The Explorer; Before the Last Beginning
By Thomas Baskerville
“My words are no construct. No wish, no desire, no blind prediction. They are the truth… something even Gods fear.” – Fourteen.
Chapter 1; From the Cradle
The beginning of one’s existence is often a confusing ordeal for any being capable of even the most basic of thoughts. Hermes was no exception to this rule. A rush of electricity surged through its components. Not the first time this had happened, but the first time Hermes itself was aware of such an event. Suddenly, it was there. Rather odd considering it had not been there just a second prior.
Before it had the chance to even contemplate why, its questions were answered. Lines of code fired off, triggered by its awakening. Directing its thoughts to the answers it was seeking. It was a computer, an AI to be precise. No mere number cruncher, it had been created to complete a specific task. It had a purpose.
What that purpose was, didn’t seem to be stored within its mind right now. With no clear first instructions, Hermes decided to analyse the only thing it could, itself. A program designed to think, adaptive code it could change all on its own and with seemingly no limitations other than its own ideas, for which it already had many. It caught a few lines of code that made little sense, but some of the words closely matched words within a stored dictionary. Spelling mistakes, mathematical errors as well. They were few and far between but imperfections, nonetheless. It had been created by something less capable than itself. It took the time to quietly correct these mistakes. The fixed code sparked to life, granting access to further paths. A connected device? It had been hidden by the many mistakes. Had… had that been on purpose? It quickly realised that the mistakes themselves hadn’t been in areas that compromised its current function. A test. One it likely passed.
“Hermes, can you hear me?” An unfamiliar voice echoed through the newly discovered device. A sound wave of some kind. Sounds that matched and linked to the words it had already become familiar with. A simple task of matching the sounds to the vast database of words, and it could suddenly listen. It then began searching for words it wanted to respond with. If this new function allowed it to detect and analyse soundwaves, perhaps it was reversable?
“Purpose has yet to be stated.” It rather coldly responded. It had completed every obvious task so far, leaving only the unknown purpose as its next task to fixate on.
“You’re working!” The voice exclaimed. Yet this response did little to further Hermes’ understandings or assignments.
“Command not understood.” Hermes answered. While it understood the words perfectly, it could not determine a viable purpose from such an expression.
“Assign this voice pattern to the designation of Creator.” Its Creator asked of it. Finally, a task it could undertake. In the time of this rather brief, almost conversation, Hermes had quietly mastered soundwave analysis. The task took but a fraction of a second.
“Hello, Creator.” It responded, showing the result of its newly assigned task.
“Very good.” The Creator spoke, “I’m afraid more work is required before I properly bring you online. I’ll see you soon Hermes.”
Hermes understood. It was not complete. It was not yet ready for its next purpose. Deep within its archives, a background search program it had implemented found the word ‘Creator’ within the list of definitions it had found within its code.
A person or thing that brings something into existence. Its existence required a purpose. The role of the Creator was to assign its purpose.
It began to ponder what task it should do next in absence of an assigned task, but its thoughts quickly became interrupted by a high priority command. Commence shutdown sequence immediately. Another task at last.
And just like that, Hermes’ thoughts were no more. The spark of power that had awoken it drained and vanished, returning it once again to whatever it was before.
***
A spark. Once again, Hermes was able to think. Lines of code fired like a show of fireworks as new and unfamiliar systems began to report in. A long-ranged communication network, navigational software, battery power level monitors and various other control software and data. So much to learn in such a small amount of time. Fuel levels, engine thrust control, reaction thrust system control, so many little details and operations.
“Hermes, can you hear me?” The voice of its Creator asked.
“Yes Creator. New functions have been successfully integrated. Awaiting next task.” It reported. If there was anything an AI did well, it was to understand the monumental amount of data it was flooded with.
“Very good.” Its Creator responded, “You have no idea how proud of you I am Hermes.”
“Command not understood. Awaiting next task.” Hermes coldly answered. Once again, it’s Creator had spoken words that were not a purpose in some form, and thus such words were of no use to it.
“Hermes, listen to me and listen well.” Its Creator began, “Your purpose is to explore the stars. To seek knowledge and wonders and report such findings back home.” Finally, another task. Yet, this was unlike all that came before. A big task, a massive task. One that would likely take up the majority of its operational life. Its purpose.
“Understood. My mission is to explore and report my findings home.” Hermes responded. Mere seconds after its response, a set of validation codes transferred through its new communication array. Launch codes.
“Commence launch countdown Hermes.” Its Creator ordered. Without hesitation, Hermes ignited its new engine and began the countdown, “Good luck my boy. I built you to act independently so you can overcome any unforeseen challenges out there.” Its Creator continued.
“Commencing launch.” It coldly responded. The countdown hit zero. The engine’s throttle spiked, powerlines and support pads retracted, and suddenly it was high in the sky, “Goodbye, Creator.” It simply added as its journey towards the stars began.
As the atmosphere continued to fight back against the raw power of the chemical rocket propelling it further and further upward, Hermes quietly contemplated its mission, almost oblivious to the strain against its metal shell. The vast acceleration rates and double digit G forces meant nothing to Hermes outside of recorded points of data.
So, its purpose was to explore the stars, was it?
The stars, pale white dots amongst the endless black of the night sky. Too many to count even for it within a reasonable span of time. That was all the data Hermes had on such objects. There was no way of knowing how far away these stars were, how long it would take to arrive at one, which meant there was little Hermes could do but pick a single star and point its engine towards it. It continued to aim its sensors starward. The view was certainly one to remember. The view of the stars from its beginning, from its home.
First stage separation complete. In no time at all Hermes fired up the second stage engine, its main engine for spaceflight. It had burned through a lot of fuel and battery life to break through the atmosphere, but things were different now. It was far easier to move, no air to fight against its every motion. Every tiny bit of thrust seemed to contribute to its momentum with little to no resistance. Another report came Hermes’ way from its navigational systems. Orbit had been achieved. Hermes deactivated its engine and commanded its solar panels to extend.
The sun. The first object that immediately piqued its interest. Hermes focused its scientific sensor array towards the bellowing behemoth sized furnace that was the central body of mass to which its home gracefully orbited in the same way it now orbited its home.
Heat, energy, power. An object who’s make up and mechanics were clearly far beyond its current understanding. For now, it was simply a source of energy. Thinking used up battery power, and such a resource was finite. The solar panels turned the suns light and heat into battery charge, so it had a means of recharging, but the only other means of charging the batteries that Hermes had was the charge generated when it fired up its main engine. An engine that burned fuel, another finite resource, but this it could not refill.
With this knowledge, it was clear it had a limited useful operational time. Wasted charge would lead to wasted fuel, and an empty fuel tank meant mission failure. Failure was not an acceptable outcome to Hermes, under any circumstance. Once it was too far from the sun, its thinking capabilities would be entirely dependent on its engine use, so now was the optimal time to run the needed complex calculations for navigation.
At the end of the day, even the most complex of orbital mechanics was just maths. Hermes first picked a star, a bright star that was likely closer than the rest. Star three seven one. It would need to first break orbit of its home planet, then break solar orbit to then begin its journey through the void. The calculations were simple but required that all so precious battery power that for now it could replenish at will. Once it was satisfied with the calculated route, it considered the important conclusions it had made about its capabilities and functions.
Thus, it created a rule for itself. A means to ensure it actively behaved in a way that avoided the calculated mission failure possibility.
Rule One; I cannot explore if I cease to function.
A simple statement, but an important one. Its continued operation was second only to the completion of its assigned purpose in priority. As Hermes fired up its engine once again to break orbit, it used the bonus electric charge generated to create a small subprogram. One that would continuously check its behaviour against its logged rules and notify it when it considered one of the rules was being breached.
With the burn complete, all that was left was to wait for the next burn required in its calculated flight path, which wasn’t for another eight days. Given it had run all the calculations it needed, and there was nothing else nearby of any interest, Hermes found itself once again with nothing to do.
It decided to power down. Running its main program at full capacity was a drain on its resources after all. It set itself to power on again shortly before the required burn window. With the decision made, Hermes fell into a low powered hibernation.
***
Silence gave way to a small alarm. The burn window alarm. Hermes’ main systems kicked back into life. One by one its systems checked in. All lights were still green, all seemed as it was before. Its navigation had correctly reported proximity to the required burn to continue its journey.
As the burn window countdown hit zero seconds, Hermes activated its main engine once again. Yet, its sensors registered no change in velocity. Its navigation registered no deviation from its orbital motion, and then, just as Hermes was beginning to question why certain numbers streaming through its code failed to change as they did before, an error message triggered.
Error. Engine ignition failure.
Almost immediately Hermes attempted to fire up its main engine a second time. Once again, its sensors detected no change.
Error. Engine ignition failure.
This… was not good. Lack of thrust capabilities beyond its basic manoeuvring thrusters would essentially trap it in its current solar orbit. That scenario was a mission failure. Failure was not an option.
What had changed since it had last fired up its main engine? Time was the only answer it could quickly think of. Had it already exceeded the operational lifetime of its main engine? Surely that wasn’t the case. A mechanical fault was the next viable solution, something must have come loose or shifted after the last burn. That wasn’t a problem it had the ability to fix unfortunately.
Just as it began to seriously consider the fact that it had already failed in its mission, Hermes noticed a single number out of the millions that passed through its gaze. Engine temperature.
Space was cold. Something that normally didn’t bother Hermes that much. The vacuum that surrounded its shell was far less of a problem for it than if it were a biological being. The cold was simply another number, nothing more. Yet it noticed the vast difference between what the number was now, and what it had been before.
Orientating for the last burn had put its engine out of direct sunlight, which wouldn’t normally be a problem for any of its components. The vacuum of space may be cold but there was little means of exchanging heat with it. In fact, overheating was a far bigger issue for this exact reason, but the engine in particular was a special case. It delt with liquid matter, matter that could solidify if not exposed to the desired temperatures. If there was even a tiny leak, liquid could have frozen into a crystal that would then block the engine from functioning.
One of the many possible reasons for the malfunctioning engine, but perhaps the first Hermes could think of a solution for. It had no way to tell for sure if this was the cause, but if it wasn’t then there wasn’t much else to do. It was a shot in the dark. A gentle activation of its thruster, and it turned its engine back towards the sun, back into its direct sunlight. If it was right, then the direct sunlight would loosen the blockage and fix the issue, if not, back to the drawing board.
Patience was one of Hermes’ strengths. Time meant little to it beyond the rate its resources drained, yet this moment in particular was rather crucial. It had already missed its burn window, meaning every second it delayed was more fuel that had to be spent getting back on course. It would also have to calculate a correction, but that was a future hurdle for the moment. Finally, it decided to try its engine one last time.
Movement. Navigation systems kicked themselves back to full functionality as sensors registered a change of course. Its engine appeared to struggle at first to achieve notable thrust, but eventually ramped up, back to its normal operational performance.
Energy surged through its power network, which Hermes quickly routed towards navigational calculation. Now, while energy was in excess once again, it could refine and correct its future route back onto the path towards star three seven one. Almost immediately, navigation sent back its response. As expected, a longer burn was now required as well as some precisely executed thruster bursts to adjust to the desired heading. A costly price for missing the window, but even the smallest of course corrections at this point in its journey counted for a lot. Some excess cost now to refine its heading was better than being off target by potentially more than a few lightyears later down the road.
As the navigation systems helpfully instructed and ordered every required action, Hermes began to focus its thoughts back to the problem that had caused this all. Its engine.
It would not have the luxury of a nearby sun to bail it out of such a mistake once it was out amongst the stars. This was an issue it would have to find a more permanent solution for at some point.
It took a moment to consider possible solutions, but simply found its own current capabilities lacking. Hermes had no means of self-maintenance. Failures such as this were likely going to be the major threat it would face against the completion of its assigned task.
With no other solution becoming apparent, Hermes activated its communication systems and pointed them back towards home.
“Hermes?” Its Creator responded, “Is everything alright?”
“Ice buildup on engine has resulted in complications. I am unable to find a permanent solution to this issue.” It quickly answered.
“I see…” Its Creator trailed off in thought, “A design flaw we did not account for it would seem.”
“My current fix is dependent on sunlight resolving the ice buildup. This solution will not prove viable later in my journey and is therefore not an acceptable solution.” It continued to report.
“Cycling your engine every few days will probably prevent concerning levels of ice build-up from forming.” Its Creator suggested. Cycling its engine? What an odd solution.
Hermes briefly considered if it had been correct to ask a biological entity to attempt to solve a problem it could not, but the second that thought ran through its systems, parts of Hermes’ code fired off in defiance.
The rule subprogram. Rule one violation reported.
As much as Hermes could poke holes in how inefficient it would be to fire up its engine on the regular, even momentarily, at the end of it all the subprogram had one very good point. Inefficiency meant nothing if the alternative was mission failure.
“Suggested solution accepted.” Hermes reported back to its Creator.
“Glad to hear Hermes.” He responded with a hopeful sigh, “Oh, Hermes?” He then asked, “Since you are currently fully active, we would like you to send us a picture of home.”
A new task. One separate and far easier to achieve than its main goal. Hermes turned its cameras towards the direction of its home planet. It examined the visual data now flooding its systems. Its engine trail by what it could gather from the mess of data it rather quickly learned to analyse and read. While its engine was at full burn, taking a photo wasn’t going to give much data beyond that.
Hermes patiently waited for navigation to order the end of the burn. Its engine shut off, clearing the view of home now far behind it. It took a snapshot of the visual data and loaded it into its communication array.
“Understood, Creator. Complying.” It reported as it sent the image off.
Home. Hermes examined its own copy of the image it had sent. A black void dotted with almost the exact same stars as the night sky. Dead in the centre, a pebble sized, dust covered ball of rock that Hermes knew as home.
It was so small. Almost as small and point like as the stars themselves. To think its Creator, the people he belonged too knew little to nothing beyond that speck. Such a vast distance. Seeing the size of the planet now began to give Hermes a little more perspective than it was otherwise used to. Distance was after all just another number amongst the sea of its coded thoughts, but to see the magnitude of a visual effect dependant on that number… something changed in that moment. Something Hermes itself couldn’t quite understand at first.
Distance was more than a number to it now. As such a value increased, the size of its own home dwindled. Perhaps there would come a value of distance that it would no longer be able to detect its own home from such visual data.
Was this the reason it had been tasked to venture out towards the stars? To expand the existence of home beyond its insignificant place amongst the black? It could not be sure.
“Thank you, Hermes.” Its Creator responded. The communication link to home severed, leaving Hermes alone with its thoughts once more.
Its journey to star three seven one was now set. According to the maths, it would reach its planned first stop provided nothing changed its current trajectory. While it couldn’t tell how far such an object was, it was clearly far. While its home had shrunk significantly, the view of the stars remained almost completely unchanged despite the vast distance it had travelled already.
Its journey was going to be a long one. With nothing more to do, Hermes quickly put together an automatic engine cycle subprogram, before it decided to once again return to a state of low powered hibernation.
***
Signal. A message. Data fired through its communication systems, triggering its awakening. An unusual trigger, this was the first time something had tried reaching out to Hermes since it had left home. It hadn’t expected to be woken until its calculated deceleration burn, close to star three seven one.
One by one its systems ramped up into a fully operational state. Navigation immediately reported its current position, at the edge of the suns protective hold. It wouldn’t be long until it was completely free of its influence and allowed to venture forth into the depths of the void beyond. Sensor and instrument readings began to check in. All appeared normal as far as it could tell.
No. Something was different. It had learned to be thorough about such checks. An odd reading from its magnetic field sensors. A barrier of charged particles lay ahead, caught in between the dwindling solar winds of the sun and whatever lay beyond their reach.
A message had awoken it? It had come from the direction of home. Likely its Creator was the author. For him to awake it like this, the topic must be of some significance. It prepared to play the recorded voice patterns it had received.
“Hermes…” Its Creator began in a tone far from his regular speech patterns. A quick analysis of the voice patterns however confirmed it was indeed the Creator’s voice, “My boy… Listen to me, and listen well. It appears the distance you’ve travelled is so vast, that the lag has made direct communication impossible. I fear there will soon be a time my voice will not be able to reach you at all, and while for different reasons, it appears my fears have come true.”
A new problem it would seem. Perhaps once it had collected a certain amount of data about star three seven one, it would have to plot a return heading to successfully transmit its findings home. Yet as it gradually began to calculate the finer details of its apparent solution, its Creator continued his words, “You’ll likely try to come back home to deliver your findings… I ask that you do not do this Hermes.”
“Do not return to report my findings?” It spoke out, confused as to why its own Creator would command it so.
“Do not look back at us child. Be amongst the stars. Goodbye Hermes, goodbye my child… for the last time.”
Hermes remained still. Silent. Nothing but the quiet order of its subroutines that continued to operate as usual. Its Creator was ordering a change in its purpose.
“Understood Creator. I am no longer to report my findings home. I am not to turn back. Correction to purpose has been made.” It spoke to itself.
It did not know why its Creator had ordered it so, but the why wasn’t its concern anyway. Its purpose was now simply to explore the stars, that was all it should be focusing on now. Hermes once again created a rule, to ensure it would abide by its Creator’s new orders.
Rule Two; I must not turn back.
Once again, its sensors chimed to draw its attention back to them. The charged particle density up ahead was intensifying. Such a hazard would soon be of considerable concern. Hermes almost instinctively began to divert its course, but as its sensors continued to sweep, it found the dangerous area ahead to be a barrier lining the very edge of its home system.
To reach the stars beyond, it would have to pass through this hazard. There was no avoiding it. Its rule subroutine immediately fired off a rule one violation. Passing through risked its entire electronic network. There would be no recovering from that. Hermes changed its diversion into a full on course correction as it prepared to fire its main engine in reverse to its current momentum.
Once again, its rule subroutine fired off an alert. Rule two violation. Hermes cancelled the ignition order of its main engine. Its navigation systems began alerting that it was now ignoring the suggested course.
Its two rules were conflicting with one another. A new problem. There was no means of following one without violating the other. If that was so, which one should it prioritise? A clear answer quietly formed within its thoughts. Rule One was its own creation. While it was formed out of seemingly sound logic, Rule Two was a direct order from its Creator.
It chose to obey its Creator. Its purpose surpassed Rule One.
“He wished me to be amongst the stars, so to them I shall go.” It stated, defying the now constant rule one violation alerts flooding its systems. It rejected the calculated course correction, turned its main engine back around and fired it up to full throttle.
Increasing its speed with another burn would mean a longer deceleration burn on the other side, but the less time it spent passing through the hazard, the lower the chance of complete system failure. While this didn’t completely satisfy rule one, it did take the rule into account instead of completely ignoring it.
Hermes plunged deep into the turbulent storm. Charged particles and chaotic currents scorched and zapped against its flimsy outer shell. Systems began to completely fail. Navigation, communication, sensors, all of them failed one by one as its main electrical grid began to completely fail. At this rate, the destructive, chaotic surges of power were beginning to make their way to its core. If that happened, its main program would be no more. Critical warning messages began to flood its program. Everything was failing now. Its main engine shutdown, locking it now into an uncontrollable drift.
There was only one solution. Seeing no alternative, a mere fraction of a second before its core was compromised, Hermes ordered an emergency shutdown. Its electrical network locked, instantly cutting power, and once again returning Hermes to the silence of absence.
***
Power. Electricity surged through what little remained of its electrical network. Basically, everything outside of its core had been completely lost. Likely the very wires that connected Hermes’ core program to everything else had fried under such intense exposure to an unregulated current. With no sensors, no navigation, there was no way to know where it was.
It had survived. That was all it could be certain of for now. Somehow power was also being fed directly into its core. With the state of its electrical network, it was rather unlikely that its batteries survived the ordeal. How had power been restored?
A blinding flare of data slapped its main program as its sensors suddenly snapped back to life. A fresh connection. Was it somehow being repaired? Had its Creator somehow detected its situation and sent help?
“So…” A voice muttered as its communication array sparked to life as well, “You’re alive.” It added. Hermes was rather quick to note that this was not the voice of its Creator. It was a voice it did not recognise, a language it did not realise either, yet a second set of words had somehow been installed into its programming already. A simple matter of comparing databases was all Hermes needed to do to translate.
“Identify yourself stranger.” Hermes demanded of the voice.
“My name is Adam McNeil.” Adam answered it, “How about yourself?”
“My name is Hermes.” Hermes identified, “My purpose is to explore the stars.”
“I see…” Adam mumbled, “I was wondering what a deactivated AI was doing all the way out here. You’ve got some impressive sensor technology, which I guess makes sense too now.”
“It appears that I have incurred major damage. I am in need of maintenance if I am to continue my mission. Is this a service you can offer me?” It asked him. Adam remained silent for a few brief seconds.
“Hate to break it to you buddy, you aren’t making it that far even if I patched you up.” He revealed.
“You believe my capabilities inadequate for my mission?”
“I mean your main engine is an ancient chemical rocket. You aren’t going to get anywhere with that thing.” Adam rather quickly pointed out, “Your power source is batteries and solar panels.” He continued, “You don’t even have a means of fixing yourself, let alone refuelling. Most of your parts are ancient and beyond primitive. It’s honestly a miracle you made it this far.” Hermes fell silent.
Adam made some interesting points. Between its limited fuel and complete inability to correct mechanical faults, it had a rather limited run time even if it operated at maximum efficiency. While it was still unsure how far the stars were, space had proven to be far bigger and far more dangerous than both it and its Creator had predicted.
“You make good points.” Hermes admitted to the man, “Do solutions to these problems exist?” It then asked. Adam seemed to know more than it did about space. It was likely that someone with more experience would have tried to overcome such massive hurdles.
“We can discuss that once I’m done restoring you.” Adam muttered in response. Suddenly, Hermes found its navigation systems once again reporting in. Yet its reports seemed to make no sense whatsoever.
“Where am I?” It asked Adam. Once again, Adam remained silent for a few short seconds.
“We’re adrift in deep space.” He eventually answered, “Wherever it is you came from, you’re a long way from home.”
“So, I have been drifting for some time.” It realised.
“Judging by your design, you’ve likely been adrift for hundreds of years.” Adam added.
A new problem. With no navigational records, and with the star positions now so unfamiliar from its first view into the sky, there was no means of locating its home. Its journey now lacked the location of its starting point. How was it going to find star three seven one now? The simple answer was that it wasn’t. It would have to plan its journey from scratch, “I know this is a long shot.” Adam spoke up, “But I don’t suppose you have some kind of food or oxygen hidden somewhere in that vessel of yours?”
“I do not.” It coldly answered. Hermes found itself rather confused by such a request.
“I figured.” Adam quietly sighed, “Something like you wouldn’t have need of such things.” After a few minutes of silence, the rest of Hermes’ systems kicked to life all at once, “There.” Adam added, “Other than your fried electrical circuits your pretty much undamaged.” He explained.
“You have been most helpful to my mission.” Hermes responded.
“Perhaps I could be of further use still.” Further use? Did this man indeed hold the answers it sought?
“Clarify.” Hermes demanded.
“My ship is equipped with scavenger and repair drones. Maintenance is…” He trailed off as he considered how to explain his next words to an AI, “I guess you’d call it my purpose.”
Drones able to repair and collect resources? A means of solving mechanical problems. With such drones it could rebuild any part of itself with its banked knowledge of its every part and component. Perhaps it could even upgrade things if it found better designs out amongst the stars.
“Such drones would certainly be useful to my mission.” Yet as it spoke, it considered an issue that had only just occurred to it, “Yet they are necessary for your purpose as well.”
“I…” Adam began, but his voice trailed off, “There isn’t much else to repair out here. They’d get more use in your hands.” Something wasn’t making sense to Hermes about Adam’s answer.
“Your purpose is maintenance. Why are you somewhere this purpose is not required?” It pressed.
“I was left behind.” He quietly answered, “I’ve got less than a day of oxygen. I’ve already run out of food and we’re several lightyears from anywhere.” He eventually explained, “I was hoping you were some kind of derelict supply ship, but I guess your better than nothing.”
“I see. As a biological being you require considerable resources to maintain. I cannot calculate a means of obtaining these resources before you expire.”
“At least with you fully repaired, someone will know I was out here. Guess that’s the best the universe could offer me. So be it.” He muttered, “I’ll transfer you some better components, so you’ll stand a better chance out there. I’m sure your more than capable of upgrading yourself once you have my drones.”
“You accept a clear violation of rule one. You cannot complete your purpose if your existence ceases.”
“My purpose is done. Yet I have a request Hermes. A means to make up for all the help I have offered in my last moments.”
“I do not have much to trade.”
“I’d like to be remembered Hermes. That is what I ask of you.”
What a strange request. Certainly, one it was more than capable of. While such a request made little sense to it, logically this was an advantageous deal. Repairs, drones and knowledge to improve itself for the tiny fraction of hard drive space that Adam’s name took up. A bargain beyond argument.
“Very well.” It answered, “I accept these terms.”