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THE SUNSET
* 2 *
"So, Milly, whattaya think?" the young Asian crewmember mumbled with a mouthful of synthetic breakfast. Legs hanging over the edge of the
walkway that ringed the Engineering end of the hovercraft, he sat with a spoon in one hand and a tin can of soupy proteins and minerals
in the other.
As the tall scarlet-haired Commander Million disassembled another section of the aft cockpit-controlled gun
battery, she thought, 'I hate it when he calls me that!' But instead, with a myriad of half-cleaned parts at her feet, and a smear of half-wiped
grease across her cheek, she sighed, "About what?"
"About my theory," the youngster said, taking another leisurely bite. "Come on, haven't you been listening?"
"I don't know, Threads," Million uttered, cleaning another opened mechanism, "Have I? Maybe it's because I'm doing all the work."
"Hang on, hang on, I'll help. Just give me a minute to finish my breakfast."
"I'll be done by then."
"But hear me out," Threads pursued. "Okay... We all know the regular reports of the Matrix depicting 'virtualities'
in the 1990s, the '80s, and even as early as the '50s..."
"Yeah."
"Who's to say that remote pockets of the Matrix aren't in the 1800s or 1700s? Or hell, why not the time of the ancient Romans, Greeks, or Egyptians?"
"You're serious?" Million paused briefly, then picked up another part.
"Sure! Think about it this way..." Threads placed his spoon in the can and the can on the walkway grating. "How many people has the fleet
successfully unplugged, let's say, in the last year? Maybe ten people?"
The commander thought about it for a moment. "That's about right."
"So over the last ninety years, we've unplugged no more than a thousand... Would you agree?"
"Okay."
"But of those thousand, the vast majority has come from the 1990s, some from the '80s, and maybe a few from the '70s and '60s. The point is--"
"And what IS the point?" Million asked impatiently.
"The point is," Threads continued, "while we've unplugged those thousand, we've only seen the tiniest fraction of the Matrix." To illustrate, he
held a half-inch of air between his thumb and forefinger. "And as far as we know, there are BILLIONS in the Matrix." This time, with arms
outstretched, he measured with both hands. "There could be THOUSANDS of 'virtualities' we'll never see, going back to the dawn of human
civilization."
"So we'll never see them," the commander reassembled a few more mechanisms. "There's no reason to."
"Whattaya mean?"
Commander Million put down her cleaning rags on one of the deactivated control consoles, and turned to the youngest member of the crew.
"Well, if I understand your 'theory' correctly, the technological gap alone would limit the possibilities... The older the 'virtuality,' the larger the
gap, and the riskier the rescue mission becomes... For one thing, the lack of telephone hardlines would be the greatest hindrance..."
"Yeah, I thought about that..." Threads put a hand to his chin. "Couldn't we use fires? You know, camp fires, torch fires, or any other controlled
fires. In an ancient civilization, they'd be the most sensible enter-and-exit transmission points."
"Interesting..." Million wondered, "I like that..." She paused, then continued, "You know what? That could actually work... We'd have to ask
Unicorn for the technical details... and maybe Hitchhiker has a few ideas... But it's all code, so the fire would have to be embedded or dug
into the ground... like a phoneline is plugged into the wall... As long as it's a hard-coded connection to the Matrix, the fire should be perfect."
"And I also thought..."
"Oh no." This time, the commander carried a hint of a smile.
"...Couldn't we trigger lightning bolts to target the fires we want to set?"
And just as quickly, the hint of her smile disappeared.
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