Cold Fusion - Lance Parkin [39]
‘It’s still being broadcast?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ The Protector continued his report. ‘By analysing the signal, our computers have made contact with the operating system of the Machine.’
Whitfield didn’t look back at her deputy. ‘Is it trying to communicate with us?’
‘Not in any way that we can recognize. We’ve run every first contact protocol on file, and we’ve got hold of some new translation software. Some patterns have emerged:
“letters” in the machine code “alphabet”. After an hour, our computers have already identified over ten million individual “letters”, If it is a language, it’s the most complex one we’ve ever encountered.’
‘English-speakers can compose every word they need with twenty-six letters, Whitfield whispered. ‘What sort of mind needs over ten million letters to express its thoughts?’ It could be a language that uses pictograms.
Chinese has nearly fifty thousand characters. On the other hand it could be an incredibly inefficient system.
It was an interesting suggestion. ‘A primitive language with very long words. Possibly it’s not a language at all, but a Lacanian pre-Oedipal communication.
‘A stream of consciousness?’
‘Possibly. It’s not my field. I’m not sure how we would test for it. Is there any evidence that the operating system is sentient?’
‘Possibly. It’s adaptive, certainly. If it uses that much energy, it’s got to be powerful enough to...’
‘That’s supposition. The first computers filled a room, needed their own special power supplies but could only do simple maths. The Machine’s force field and self-repair systems alone must take much of the energy.’
‘That is true, Chief Scientist – What do you think it is?
It was not the first time they had asked that question, but they were no nearer the answer. Whitfield continued to stare out of the window. ‘Have you heard of Stonehenge, Protector?’
‘No ma’am,’ he admitted.
‘It was one of the earliest scientific instruments, on Earth. A prehistoric method of predicting solar eclipses, and other astronomical events – stones arranged in a circle, marking off points in the heavens. On certain days, at certain times, the sun and moon would appear between the gaps in the stones. The blocks it was built from were imported from Wales, several hundred miles away. It doesn’t sound far now but it took fourteen hundred years to finish. The equivalent now would be to ship a billion tonnes of material to Andromeda to build an autobservatory.’
‘Who built it?’
‘The priest-scientists of ancient Britain, so that they could know how the universe worked just a little better.
Every primitive society from the Mayans to the Egyptians spent centuries building structures that allowed them to make astronomical measurements. Ever since, there has been an unbroken line of men and women dedicated to that task, willing to defy authority, to risk death, because of what they knew to be true. Our methods have changed, become infinitely more sophisticated, and now we walk among the stars, but we are the descendants of those druids.’
‘Is that what the Machine is for? To explain how the universe works?’ The Protector’s face was reflected in the plastic window. Outside, the Machine stood, vast as ever. It was a thousand times older than Stonehenge, built before man was walking upright.
‘Yes,’ she concluded.
The Doctor plucked the sonic screwdriver from his pocket, and levelled it at the lock. After a moment he withdrew it and adjusted the setting.
‘Is it working?’ Adric asked him.
The Doctor stepped back, beaming. There was a snap as the bolts drew back. The Doctor looked around, but no one had heard the noise. He reached forward and tapped the handle. The hatch drifted smoothly open on power-assisted hinges. Through the circular portal it was dark.
Adric stepped in first, the Doctor following closely behind.
‘We’d better close the door,’ the Doctor advised. The corridor outside was the only source of light. He pulled a couple of torches from his pocket and handed one to Adric.
They were in an anteroom, ahead of them was a smaller metal hatch. The Doctor opened