Chapter 13

Death of an Immortal

Esalen Waters, CA: September 13, 2045

The Most Reverend Seti Amenope Repaul, B.A., M.A., Ph.D., D.Min. looked out upon the blue waters of Lake Tahoe. Though surrounded and revered by many, he was alone with his thoughts.

“Why can’t I make them understand?’ he thought. “I am not of this place. I must find them, wherever they are, so that I can be whole!” He projected his thoughts through The Collective with all his energy--to no avail. Nothing came back. It never did. “Would he ever find them?”

After he formed The Collective, Seti returned to Esalen. As word of his insight grew, he was often called upon to counsel world leaders. He also found himself on late-night holocasts with celebrities and their hosts. It was on one of these programs that he met Dr. James Sobol. Dr. Sobol was a student of Frank Drake at Caltech and the executive director of the SETI Institute. That night, he was describing how seti@home had become a phenomenon. Starting from an idea by astronomers at Berkeley and a few personal computers in 1995, the program running in the background of home computers had come to use most of the idle computing power of eCom. Seti was intrigued, because what Sobol was describing sounded like a computer version of The Collective. Dr. Sobol went on to explain, that even with all that computing power scientists were not able to determine any patterns that showed the existence of extraterrestrial life or even the carriers of such signals. However, science had made great strides in radio astronomy, covering all the spectra to visible light. His work with space-based receivers was very promising, hopefully enabling reception beyond the interference of Earthly transmissions.

What they needed, Dr. Sobol explained, was a radical new approach. Now that the computing power existed, he suggested that we increase receiving power. The Allen Array had worked well at Hat Creek. He suggested an array of colossal proportions. That's why he was on the holocast. It would take considerable private funding to accomplish the task.

Seti took the idea home with him that night and consulted The Collective on the way. He decided to work with the Saganites to garner the funding to accomplish the project. Starting with Compton money, he appealed to the Saganites strictly through their leader, Dr. Louis Friedman. At 105, Dr. Friedman was a cofounder of the Planetary Society with Carl Sagan. A respected member of the community of astronomers and space scientists, he had spent his last fifty years working on solar sailing craft. Retired to a mountain retreat, he still was the spiritual leader of the Society and the Saganites. That was about to change.

After preliminary emails, they decided to meet in person. Seti found Friedman where he lived--high in the Sierras. Seti arrived in the early morning. They talked while the rising sun drove the dew from the Douglas Fir needles floating gently above their breakfast table.

"I have read your work, Dr. Friedman. It is a pleasure to meet you. While I didn’t know Dr. Sagan, it is through your books and holos that I've come to know him. You were his student?"

“Yes, at Cornell. I knew and admired Carl. He was a mentor for all of us--a spiritual leader. If it hadn't been for him, much of the research we are able to do today wouldn't have been possible. I tried to take on the leadership role after he died, but I couldn’t fill his shoes. He would be amazed at how these Saganites revere him. He was most comfortable among his fellow scientists, not with all those autograph seekers. He did like talking to Johnny Carson, though. That’s where the world got to know him—a TV show." Dr. Friedman seemed to startle himself with such a profane pronouncement.

“I know, my father, Albert Repaul, was also a student of Dr. Sagan. He gave up the practice of astronomy and loathes the Saganites. While he believes Sagan’s theories are still correct, he sees no easy contact with extraterrestrials. I disagree. I have a strong sense of premonition. That’s why I’m here.” Seti paused for a moment to collect his thoughts.

"If I may be bold, Dr. Friedman, I'm here to suggest a new concept. I understand that you need a larger array, and the funds to produce and deliver it. I'm here to offer you that assistance. I too, seem to have a connection, like your Society's founder .If I may be so presumptuous, I would like to carry on Dr. Sagan's mission--to bring the concept to the people."

"Dr. Repaul, I have reviewed your considerable credentials. You've accomplished much in your short career. But what will you bring to the Planetary Society and SETI? Your right, you do seem very presumptuous!”

"I bring you my name, and my money--and much more. You may have noticed that my first name is Seti. It is no accident. I cannot explain it to you right now, but I'm the clone of an ancient pharaoh of Egypt, Seti II. It is by no coincidence that my name matches the acronym, search for extraterrestrial intelligence.”

Something in Seti’s manner and conviction caught Friedman’s attention. He couldn’t help like this youngster’s brashness. ”What kind of money are we talking about?"

"Trillions. I have connections with many celebrities and world leaders. I'm prepared to bring you the kind of money that only the Gates Foundation or the Oracle Foundation can provide. Are you ready to spend such vast amounts?”

"I'm tired and retired. But I know many scientists that are ready when you are. You've convinced me.”

They shook hands. Seti left with his thoughts spinning--with The Collective tuned in. Louis Friedman sat on his deck, shaded by the giant firs and contemplated what had just happened. His thoughts turned to plans he had long had for an array in space of colossal proportions and power. His solar sailer would finally be tested.

Seti and the Collective immediately launched a campaign, knocking on doors and on the holocast talk show circuit. Funds began pouring into the new fund set up for the project, the Interplanetary Research Fund. While Seti spun tales of how they would contact the help they needed to save the Earth, scientists, researchers, and contractors began the task of creating his vision--the giant array that would surpass any project as yet attempted by humankind—the Sagan Array.

The project became known as SETI II, named by public demand after its benefactor and chief proponent. Dr. Seti A. Repaul received the Nobel Peace Prize for his work in 2034.

Albert Repaul was justly proud of his son. However, his old doubt hung over him like a cloud. He couldn't cast it out. He had questioned the SETI concept from the start. Now his son was the champion of it. He hoped that he was wrong. But something told him, deep inside, that he was right. SETI II was just another big waste of time and money. No use arguing with Seti about it. He will have to find it out himself.

As the SETI II project grew and things got worse on the coast, Seti looked for a new location for the Esalen Institute. A donation by the Ponderosa Trust caught his eye. It was a 500-acre tract of land located on the north shore of Lake Tahoe. He wasted no time in moving the Institute there. While still subject to the volcanic violence that wracked the Sierras, it appeared to be safer than the coastal location. Here, he built a complex rivaled by none, where he and The Collective could commune. Great thinkers the world over came to walk the tree shaded trails, calmed by the blue water and isolation of their private bungalows.

They came to seek Seti’s advice and counsel—and to get away from the troubles besetting them. Some were asked to join The Collective, but most were not. At first, Seti thought that The Collective would be able to solve most problems easily, but he was wrong. There were no simple solutions. Even collectively, humans weren’t smart enough to save the world. Draconic measures hadn’t worked. As his fame spread and people came more and more to look to him for answers, he withdrew and sought his own savior. He immersed himself in the project. He had to contact the source of intelligence before it was too late. He became passionate about his obsession. He would succeed or die trying.

Friedman’s solar sailers, codenamed, Caravelle, had proved the concept of sailing the solar wind. Caravelles 4 and 5 had even tacked, enabling them to return to Earth after long journeys around the sun. The sailer being built for SETI at SpaceWorks, an Interplanetary Fund Company in synchronous orbit, was several orders of magnitude larger, a departure from the Caravelles. Without consulting anyone, Seti dubbed it Albatross. Albatross 1 would carry the first 81 receivers and deploy them in the Mars orbital path. The receivers would be placed precisely 5,000 meters apart. They would be individually controlled from a Mars orbiter, Sea Gull. The receivers would be synchronized and interchangeable. Eventually, there would be thousands of them, linked in a dance of discovery as they rotated the Sun and prowled the stars for a sign.

More and more, Seti took the Space Ferry to SpaceWorks, watching his baby take shape. Once deployed, he hoped that the Sagan Array would grow in power and size until it listened in on the Universe itself. Surely then, he would find the answers needed to save the Earth. Unwilling to let others run the project, he took charge. He went to the Johnson Spacecraft Center and received the deep space training his brother had before. Seti Repaul would command the Albatross.

On a sunny morning, May 10^th, 2047, Dr. Seti Repaul and a crew of five, set sail for Mars. It was only a metaphor. It was always sunny at SpaceWorks. Morning was an Earth concept, carefully nurtured to keep the occupants in touch with their Earthly rhythms. After the people pod was rotated to achieve Earthly gravity, and rockets nudged the giant Albatross into position, the sails were deployed. Ever so slowly, particles beaming from the Sun reached it and imparted their gentle force. By the end of the first day, they were doing .3 knot and accelerating, taking them on a course outward, ahead of Earth, to match the orbit of Mars in 21.359 months. It would be six years before Seti would return to his followers on Earth. Until then they would monitor his course on eCom.

Dominic was six months into his own mission to Ganymede. Their conventional nuclear pulse rocket-powered craft, Red Storm, was named after the huge red storm on Jupiter that would occupy much of their research while at the giant moon. He, too, expected to return in six years.

Seti liked it on the Albatross. He could be alone with his thoughts. Only two of the crew were members of The Collective, and he was not close to them. Weekly, he composed holos and sent them to Earth. Otherwise, he was not in direct correspondence. As soon as they left the pull of Earth's gravity, the communication gap widened.

After a month, normal conversation was impossible. Seti could no longer commune with Saul, John, and Seala. He missed that. Seala had become his closest confidant, someone he could count on to give him the truth about what world leaders were thinking.

He often thought of his last conversation with her just after he embarked.

"Seali, I am both excited and calmed by the prospect. It was so anticlimactic. The thruster's just pushed us off gently, and then we just sat there. There was a feeling of movement when the sails deployed, then we just sat there again. I guess I expected more. Something like the adrenalin kick I got each time I took the Ferry up here."

"Oh Seti, you know what to expect. It will take a long time for the minute force of the solar wind to accelerate Albatross to any speed at all. Try not looking out at SpaceWorks too often, and then you will see if you're moving. I guess it's a good time to think about what you're doing."

"What are they thinking--your friends over at the United Nations? Are they concerned? Do they want me to succeed or fail? I'm interested."

"Oh, they are as expected. Some are for you and some against. Delegates from the poorest countries seem to be backing you the most. They've got nothing to lose. But some of the wealthier delegates, like those from Finland, think your venture is a waste of money. I wouldn't pay them any mind. The nay Sayers are a rich, but small, minority."

"I have a premonition. I don't know what it is exactly. But I think I'm going to make contact on this trip. Please don't tell anyone. You know I haven't shared it with The Collective. I've known it for some time. That's why I'm here instead of watching from Earth. I'm going to meet my destiny. I'm sure of it. Still, if it does not come to pass, I don't want to let the millions who count on me down. Promise not to tell anyone, even Dom?"

"I promise. But now you've got be intrigued. Tell me more."

"There isn't much to tell, just a premonition. But it's strong. And has something to do with the Sun. It must be in this seed, this genetic code that’s in me--being a descendant of the Sun God, Ra."

"I know what you mean. Sometimes I have thoughts and dreams that take me back to a place like Africa. They teach me things I cannot tell others, because they don't understand. I’m given fire and tools to use. I suddenly have a language to speak and the tools to write it. I learn how to tame animals so that they will respond to my voice. For our sake, I hope your premonition is true. So many here are counting on you to come up something that will help save them from the wretched lives they lead. … Godspeed."

"Nanospeed for now. God will have to come later, when I am near the speed of light. Goodbye for now, my sweet sister."

The world watched as the Albatross gradually picked up speed and disappeared from the cameras on SpaceWorks. Seti's weekly holos to the masses leaked clues to what he was thinking like droplets on the ocean. Some picked up what he was thinking. Some did not. The Collective sensed it first.

Six Months Later: November 8, 2047

It had been three weeks since the Albatross passed the point, on the backside of the Sun, where interference blocked direct communication with Earth. Of the two relays available, Red Storm and Mars eCom, Red Storm was closer. Communication took 17.36 minutes to reach Red Storm. Relayed from there, it took another 36.12 minutes to reach Earth. One-way, it took over forty-five minutes for a transmission to reach Earth. On Red Storm, Dominic heard sooner.

Seti was in the exercise room, burning carbs and watching a holo of Seala’s vacation at New Wilderness. Oh, how he missed that place at times like this--watching Seala and Thuy swimming and fishing, laughing and talking like school children. Just relaxing and enjoying the variety of experience available there. When he had been there, he thought he was alone and isolated. He wanted to get out into the real world he saw on eCom. Now, he longed to get back in that familiar place. If he found them, maybe they could get him back. The sterile bioscape the designers had created for the Albatross was like a dungeon when compared to the natural world. Tears welled up in his eyes. He missed that place. He missed them. It was the price of his calling.

Suddenly, a shock ran through the craft. He was thrown from his exercycle as the lights went out. He was clinging to the carpet and struggling to his knees when emergency lighting bathed the room in a yellow glow and auditory alarms competed in a cacophony. All of the visuals were gone, but the gravity was still on, there was air, and the Albatross was stable as he crawled for the door, already sensing his crewmates collective fear.

“Everyone all right?” Instantly, everyone affirmed that they were-- above the din of the alarms.

“What was that?” No one seemed to know. Seti reached the command center, where two of the crew had been on duty. The others joined them from the sleeping quarters and mess. After rebooting the main computer, the lights came back up and most of the alarms subsided. The jolt had forced the system past the backup to the auxiliary, emergency mode, hence the emergency lighting. Sensors, alarms and visuals clearly showed the problem.

“Oh my God,” Taylor Gordon, flight commander cried. “It’s gone!” The sail was torn away, and had disappeared from sight. The main mast was sheared off. Cameras showed a dirty smear on its shiny stub where it had been struck by something large. How large?

The external cameras had caught it coming--and going. It was an irregular piece of chondrite about a meter across. It probably weighed about a thousand pounds, and was traveling about 47 kilometers per second. They were lucky to be alive.

But they were not lucky. “Look at that!” Taylor exclaimed again after the main console came back up. “Our trajectory has declined 32%!” There was despair in her voice as she choked it out.

Seti did the calculations in his head. They could nudge the craft a bit with their rockets until they ran out of fuel. They could try to rebuild the solar sail to get thrust and direction. They could rig solar panels to generate electrical power they could use to create fuel from their water. None of these efforts would make a dent in the holo before them--collision with the Sun in nineteen months. The meteorite had set their angle. Their velocity of 37.328 kilometers per second had been reached by months of slow acceleration to overtake Mars. They were now headlong back toward Earth orbit. The Sun’s gravity would do the rest. The Albatross would melt long before it reached the surface.

Undaunted, The Collective, assisted by the best minds in the International Space Federation spent a month trying to come up with a scenario for rescue. Dominic’s Red Storm, already past Mars orbit, did not have enough fuel to reverse course, affect a rescue, and pull out of the pull of the Sun’s gravity. It would be too late, anyway. The same problem existed with the three Mars Ferries underway. Attempts to use the gravity of Mars, Earth, or Venus to alter course failed because Albatross lacked any ability to maneuver into position close to any of these bodies on its plunge to the Sun.

Eventually, after that month of frantic searching, inevitability set in. Seti had already come to that conclusion within hours of the accident. He had let the others try because he knew they had to exhaust all possibilities--all hope. He let his spiritual side take over. Soon, he began to think that it had been ordained. He forgot himself and rose to meet the pain of those who had counted on him so much. Even with the difficult communication involved, he spent sessions lasting many hours trying to relieve the concerns of his growing band of followers on Earth.

Looking for a sign, the disenfranchised masses flocked to Seti in proportion unheard of in modern history. He was overwhelmed trying to answer their questions. So, he stopped. He went into isolation in his small quarters for thirteen months. While each crewmember on Albatross contemplated his or her own fate, they could no longer commune with him. It was hard—hard not having his spiritual leadership on board. Alone, they had to come to peace with themselves before facing their inevitable death.

When Seti came out, he glowed with a peace and tranquility that soothed the crew and radiated to the masses. He had produced a tome that he called, The Universal Truth. In, it, he outlined a storehouse of truth that he called, The Universal Intelligence. The Collective would operate in everyday life, collecting the universal truth to be included in the Universal Intelligence. Universal Intelligence defined humans and set them apart as intelligent beings. The Universal Intelligence would guide the future of human development and provide the essence of Earthly intelligence for any contact with any other intelligence.

The first universal tenet, “Nature knows best,” outlined what Albert Repaul and others already knew, that attempting to shape a planet’s evolutionary forces with meager intelligence is a recipe for disaster. The second tenet, “Intelligence is benign,” outlined the folly of wasting resources to attempt to defend oneself from higher intelligent life forms. The third, “Power is infinite,” referred to the energy available to be used intelligently. And so on. While The Universal Truth was hard for some to understand, it was hailed by religious and scientific scholars as the greatest book since the Holy Bible. The masses, regardless of their religious affiliation, saw it as a sign of the second coming. The Collective saw it for what it was--a guidebook to the stars.

There wasn’t much time left. The crew sent and received holos with their loved ones. Seti conferred with world leaders and his following, now numbering, some said as much as 70% of the world’s populous.

On April 24th, 2049, Seti’s 31^st Birthday, they gathered wherever people gather. The Mall amid the cherry blossoms, Times Square, Tianamin Square, Red Square, St. Paul's, sports arenas, and meeting places large and small, to honor the not yet dead in a memorial service for the six souls on the Albatross. For the first time in recorded history, the soon to be dead would participate in their own funeral service. The event was simoholocast the world over and coordinated by the minions at Esalen Waters. Saul Rubinski eulogized Seti:

"I stand before you, a lowly, humble man. For I am not worthy to honor such a man as Seti Amenope Repaul. For he stands out among the minds of the 21st century, and is perhaps, the greatest mind that ever lived. He came from humble beginnings, and for a time, in his youth, led a very troubled life. However, he came up from that to serve us in ways we are just beginning to imagine. Among us, he has formed The Collective. Lest you fear its name, The Collective is no more than a meeting of minds. As a member myself, I am humbled to think that I have shared thoughts with the great Dr. Repaul. But that's the way he is. He accepts everyone, and is most willing to share his thoughts. For that's all he has, … all he's ever had, … and all we will ever learn from him. In his final months among us, he has brought us the truth, the universal truth. Long after he is gone, we will ponder what he has brought us, … how he has touched us, … and how he has raised our spirit. While you can still hear me, Seti, I promise that those of us in The Collective--indeed, the world over, will carry on your mission and contact extraterrestrial intelligence before it's too late."

Seala then rose to speak to the thousands gathered by the reflecting pond. Anne and Albert stood at her side. The statue of Lincoln sitting behind her formed a fitting backdrop. First, she showed a holo from Dominic, older brother and fellow space traveler. Dom was apologetic. He cried to think that all the Federation and The Collective knew could not save his brother. He promised to carry on, to seek out the intelligence Seti believed would save the Earth. Seala then spoke of growing up “wild” as “twins” and soul mates. How Seti had miraculously changed to become what he now was, “…The hope of humankind.” Her voice quavered as she said her last goodbyes.

Eulogies were said for the others. The world sang together and prayed. In 45 minutes, a holo appeared. The Rev. Seti Repaul made his last comments to the world:

"Weep not for me, or for this brave crew. For we have come to peace with ourselves knowing that we serve a greater purpose. That you will carry on. I am saddened to think that I will not see the coming of our saviors. I'm saddened that I will not be the one to greet them. But, I know that you will carry on. I know that most of you will live to see that great day when we make contact and the world will be saved. Have faith and carry on. That's all I ask. That's all anyone can ask. We will soon leave you. But our spirit will be with you, … always."

The other crewmembers spoke, each in turn, and then there was silence. The only sound that came from the Albatross was its communication carrier signal. Soon, that too, disappeared.

It was hot, unbearably hot. They could feel the pull of the giant out there that they could no longer bear to look at, even through highly protective glass. Seti and the others gathered around the yellow glow of the exercise room, conserving their energy to stave off the heat. They each took a pill, one by one, and said their last words to each other. They washed down the pills with the last of the ship's water. It was a fast acting, painless poison. And then, one by one, they sat down on the mats, fell over, and died.

They were cremated in situ a month before the hurtling molten mass that remained of the Albatross passed the orbit of Mercury, accelerating rapidly into the flaming maw of its source, Ra, the Sun.

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