Welcome back. The Transcendence journey continues.
Chapter 3 – Waiting
There were a few days off, a well‑extended weekend, during which the SEET compound changed. Radically.
The energy was pulsating with what could only be called “vacation.” Relaxed moods, small parties, the mixed smell of grills of all kinds, and different music that changed as soon as you moved from one house to the next, limited by property boundaries — almost as if someone were playing with your car’s stereo. Needless to say, this rewarding vacation extended to schools as well. The perfect time for busy parents to catch up with their kids: teaching them how to ride a bicycle or a car, flying a kite, planting flowers or mowing the grass, and even cleaning out the garage, which somehow magically filled itself with apparently useless things that no one ever dared to throw away, for obscure reasons.
“Aunt Elara, Aunt Elara!” came the voice of Amaltheia, or Alma, the ten ‑year‑old girl from the Gorowitz family across the street. Her father, Ethan, is a mechanical engineer, while his wife, Shai, is a head nurse. Alma is blonde, with striking blue eyes, and for some reason she is always seeking Elara’s company. Without being asked or taught, she started calling her “aunt,” completely ignoring Elara’s repeated requests not to — insisting, as Elara did, that she was not old enough to be anyone’s aunt.
Elara had just finished cleaning up a bit, meaning she had already filled three big black plastic bags with things destined for disposal. She was planning to review the T‑0 recordings again when Alma appeared at the door.
“It’s better not to ignore her. She’ll crawl through the window, you know that,” GAIA said, displaying four rather funny yet successful instances when Alma had used different windows as entry points.
“I know…” Elara replied, placing the tablet on the table and heading for the door.
“Coming… Morning, sweet tormentor. Missed me?” she added, opening the door with a smile and carefully catching Alma, who leapt instantly into her arms.
“Aunt Elara, can I stay with you today? Please, please, pleeease…”
“Well… your mom might have something to say about that.”
“Please, please… tell her… tell her that… that you need me to clean,” Alma said, pointing toward the filled bags.
“Actually—”
“Tomorrow there is no school. I finished all my homework. OK?”
Her look made it impossible to refuse. A charming smile, big eyes, and no blinking at all — even puppies could learn from her.
“I still need to ask your parents,” Elara said, letting Alma slip slowly from her arms. She took her hand, and before they could even cross toward Alma’s house, Ethan and Shai gave her a thumb‑up, got into their car, and drove away.
“I forgot to tell you,” Alma added, laughing as she burst back into the house, hopping from one foot to the other. “Mom and Dad are visiting grandma at the hospital. Do you need help with the cleaning?”
She immediately started moving books around the large table, then the sofa and chairs.
“GAIA, does she need cleaning?”
“Always, Alma. You know her,” GAIA replied, displaying a winking face.
“By the way, GAIA, how come you only call me Alma when I’m at Aunt Elara’s?”
“Your parents requested that I always use Amaltheia.”
“And here?”
“Here, it’s our secret — set by Elara,” GAIA replied, showing a mouse tiptoeing and pressing a finger to its lips.
“What are you two doing?” Elara asked, lifting Alma into her arms and settling down on the couch.
“Nothing,” both GAIA and Alma replied at once, making Elara laugh.
“I see… I suppose someone here enjoys math tests.”
“Noooo!” Alma protested, wrapping her arms tightly around Elara.
“OK, OK… what do you want to do then?”
“Can we look at the rockets? Did you know Dad installed all the… the… ‘antigava’ engines?”
“Antigrav, sweetie. Anti‑gravity. Ask your dad to explain how it works — I’m sure you’ll find it fascinating.”
The rest of the day passed with board games, chatting, and a bit of cleaning. A message from Alma’s parents saying they would be delayed made Elara realize it was time for dinner. Alma, although not a picky eater, preferred pasta — which, coincidentally, was already Elara’s plan. Simple pasta with olive oil, garlic, a bit of tomato juice, basil, and mozzarella or parmesan. Most likely both, as Elara rarely managed to have enough of just one.
“Aunt Elara, may I play on the tablet?”
“Sure, dear.”
“GAIA, what game should I play? Never mind…”
“You know there are no games on Elara’s work tablet. The large SEET logo on the back should tell you that. Remember, she doesn’t like it when you play on this tablet.”
“A‑ha…” Alma replied, frantically tapping as if she were playing the most engaging game ever.
“Five minutes, Alma.”
Alma didn’t answer. Almost ten minutes passed before Elara came to pick her up.
“Alma, put the tablet down. Elara is coming to you,” GAIA said, but Alma was still typing.
“Done,” she said quickly, placing the tablet beside her on the sofa as if nothing had happened, and jumping up. GAIA was already playing a Tom & Jerry episode.
“Coming…” she added, with a satisfied smile.
Dinner was joyful and easy. Afterwards, they washed the dishes and cleaned together. They were still talking about what to do next when the doorbell rang. Alma immediately began pleading.
“Please, Aunt Elara, can I sleep here tonight? Please? Can you ask Mom?”
“Let’s see…” Elara said, opening the door.
Ethan and Shai were standing there, visibly tired after a long day, yet still managing warm smiles.
“Good evening, Elara. Thank you so much for your help. We’re sorry we couldn’t let you know earlier.”
From the look in Shai’s eyes, Elara could tell something wasn’t right.
“Amaltheia, please go to your dad. I need a word with Aunt Elara,” Shai said, making a gentle downward gesture with her palm — no room for negotiation.
Alma raised her arms toward Elara, who bent down and kissed both her cheeks, receiving one in return. Alma took her father’s hand and left, waving with the other.
“Mom…” Shai continued, her voice trembling. “My mom… Amaltheia’s grandmother… she’s not doing very well. We… we’re preparing for the worst. So, I was wondering…”
“No problem, Shai. Anytime. Alma can stay with me. She can even come to work with me. She’s a good girl.”
“Thank you,” Shai said, taking Elara’s hands in hers. “Thank you.”
“I understand. She’s young. We should protect her.”
“Thank you. We’ll let you know. Good night, Elara.”
“Good night.”
Alma’s grandmother took her place among the stars a day later. Sadness filled the district. Out of respect, the days became quiet — after the funeral, until work resumed. No barbecues, no music, no noisy gatherings. During the service, Alma was unexpectedly brave, holding Elara’s hand the entire time. Before parting ways, they sat on the terrace near the entrance, on the swing Ethan had built for Alma, and gazed at the stars. No words were needed. They both looked up at the new star that had taken its place in the universe.
“Aunt Elara, I think I did something bad… will you forgive me?”
“You’re a bright, clever girl. Whatever it is, you can tell me, dear. I’m sure there’s nothing that cannot be forgiven.”
“Yes. You said it,” Alma replied, jumping off the swing. “I think I fixed one of your movies.” And she ran away.
Elara smiled. It was the first time in days that Alma seemed fully herself again — playful, joyful, and witty in the best possible way.
The following weeks at work were filled mostly with administrative tasks which, after previous years, felt like crawling through the days. But everyone knew the full‑adrenaline period was approaching. T‑one week until touchdown on Hestia — or ahestialization, the newly adopted term of the International Planetary Union.
The final week before ahestialization followed a different rhythm: task preparation, multiple telemetry checks, environmental reviews, chemical component availability, construction blueprint verification, and roadmaps.
Elara returned to her office after yet another meeting with her team, reviewing assembly procedures, power‑up, and network initiation for all fifty PARE120 units. Even though all data confirmed nothing could go wrong — just as with previous PARE deployments — she still reviewed the intervention procedures. She had never needed to change anything onsite beyond routine initialization checks. Still, the four‑minute delay before receiving data from Hestia was always the hardest part, even though a bit over three minutes with Moon’s colony are no longer am issue.
She took a sip of coffee from her mug — SEET logo on one side, a new antigrav rocket on the other — and kept it in her hand while scrolling through the checklist on her tablet.
“GAIA… did I miss anything?” she asked softly, more to herself than to GAIA.
“You’ve checked the list twice already. Everything is in order.”
“How about… the T‑0 checks confirmation?” she asked, looking for the saved folder.
“Would you like me to play it for you? The version stored on your tablet appears to have been altered.”
“Altered? What do you mean — altered? Load them side by side.”
“I’m sorry, Elara. Action denied. Loading tampered files into the network is not allowed.”
“Right… load your version to my tablet.”
Once the files were loaded, with a smooth movement of her finger, she sent each recording to a separate display. She had a strong feeling that if something was wrong or different, it had to be in the PARE120 Program Upload Completion, so she fast‑forwarded directly to that point.
It didn’t take long for one recording to display:
WARNING: Autonomy Risk Detected. Level: HIGH.
She pressed Stop and froze.
What does this mean? It was… real. It did happen. But how? she thought, tapping her fingernails lightly on the tablet’s display.
“GAIA…” she started softly. “Didn’t you upload this record to my tablet? How can they be different now?”
The question was followed by a long pause — entirely out of character for GAIA, which could instantly recalculate Hestia’s orbital trajectory while maintaining SEET’s systems and supporting every department at once.
“Not enough data, Dr. Song.”
“All right. Be that as it may… show me the file access logs, side by side.”
The first entries matched perfectly. Then they diverged.
The SEET master record hadn’t been accessed for weeks. Her local copy showed access by Miss Amaltheia Gorowitz — 12 minutes and 38 seconds.
Elara remembered Alma’s words: “I think I fixed one of your movies.”
Alma was among the brightest students in machine‑language coding and programming. Elara had often imagined her working here one day.
She said “fixed.” Alma rarely misspoke when it came to coding. That means…
Elara took a piece of paper, wrote a short note, folded it, and placed it in her bag — an old habit from times when something was too important to entrust to GAIA. An unusual choice for someone leading PARE coding.
“Nothing we can do for now,” she thought. “We’ll see in a week.”
“GAIA, I’m off. See you later.”
The lights dimmed. One by one, the monitors went dark.
Coming up: Chapter 4 – Decision
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