Chapter Thirty-Five: Pandora's Box Finale

Curling fronds. Flat, waxy leaves. Massive, slick vines. The underground enclosure was one of the largest Conrad had ever seen. How had they had hollowed out this space under the mountains? Maybe it had been some kind of natural cave.

Scattered among the jungle plants were a variety of instruments...and avatars. Dressed in lab coats, fatigues, or just casual wear, they mingled among the underbrush. Some held instruments, others were just plugged in, in some seemingly meditative state. The whole scene was illuminated by an artificial light source in the rafters above.

"How do you like our operation?" Dawson surveyed the scene in front of her. "Quite a lot of work at first. But soon it became self-sustainable, which was of course the point. Provided we maintain the lighting and atmosphere."

"It does seem like a lot of work," Conrad commented, as diplomatically as he could manage. This is what they had been working on? No rescue efforts, or air delivery, or national defense? What in the everloving hell?

"Yes...putting together a plan to save the planet has been a lot of work."

"I'm afraid I don't follow," Conrad replied.

Dawson gestured to a railed platform to their right. "My office is that way. I'll be there with you in just a few minutes."

With that, Dawson moved off in the opposite direction, where there appeared to be a second airlock. Conrad watched her disappear behind the reinforced door. He leaned on the metal railing as he took the scene in front of him in a second time.

Unbelievable.

Dawson's office was spacious. Ceiling to floor windows looked out on the activities below. Conrad watched a male avatar with close-cropped hair and a whip protected by a plastic sheath gathering a plant sample.

The door swung open. A nine-foot avatar female walked through the door. Dawson was dressed in a custom-tailored pantsuit. Her avatar's hair was short and shaggy, her neural whip wrapped in a navy fabric that matched her suit.

Dawson settled into a large office chair which was positioned behind her desk.

"Have a seat, Boers."

Thankfully, there was a human-sized chair. Boers pulled it up to her desk, pumping the side handle to bring himself up to near eye-level with the president.

"I know you're wondering why we're doing all of this." Dawson gestured out the window. "And what your own potential role on the Obtanium Project will be."

"The Obtanium Project?" Boers echoed.

Dawson nodded. "My staff have a flair for the dramatic every so often. As did whoever it was that named the mineral in the first place. If unobtanium is, well, unobtainable, then it only makes sense to look for something that's obtainable. Originally, I responded to the energy crisis by putting some of America's top consultants, financial, environmental, and so on. What followed was predictable - a five-hundred page report eventually landed on my desk." She leaned in, elbows on her desk, tail twitching with bundled energy. "You heard the news about the hacker in Indiana?"

"I believe it was six or so months ago," Conrad recalled.

"We drove up there the day of the news report. My people offered him a job on the spot. He was in this complex by the next working day. Maro Pagonis started working with the IT department on establishing a more reliable, encrypted connection to the Pandorian biosphere. From there, we established contact with none other than Dr. Augustine."

"What? Conrad interjected, in spite of himself. "She's alive?"

Dawson shook her head. "Not...exactly. She's part of the biosphere. She appears to be acting as some kind of human representative for the planet's consciousness."

Incredible.

"Dr. Augustine," Dawson continued, "suggested that we use the inherent properties of the biosphere to support life on Earth. The largest barrier to this process would naturally be that Pandoran plants require an atmosphere that is different from ours. Therefore we initially discounted this theory. The next alternative that was seriously considered was the mass consciousness transfer, and for a while, we focused our efforts on the transition.

"But then, we came to a conclusion after looking at the data in front of us." Dawson's ears swiveled, as if to emphasize her point. "Even with a heavily reduced population, it would still be almost insurmountably impossible to restore Earth's biosphere. The initial technological boost needed - carbon scrubbers, cloud seeders, earth detoxifiers - surpasses the current energy needs and human resources of our dwindling population.

"The Pandoran biosphere offers the solution. In the place of unobtanium driven technology guiding the re-forestation of Earth, you have organic technology that can monitor all the important factors - what plants need to go where to process what toxin, whether to support plants that thrive in low-light conditions. The biosphere has those capabilities inherently built into their very genetic code."

"Is this project attempting to replicate the properties of the Pandoran biosphere in Earth atmospheric conditions?"

"It was, at first," Dawson replied. "But then, a few of our staff came to us with a new proposition. Even if we were successful in adapting the plant life to Earth's atmosphere, remaining as humans in a Pandoran biosphere would have major disadvantages. Take the organic interfacing queue, for example." Dawson reached behind her and brought her neural whip forward in one hand. She turned it around, as pink tendrils slowly crept out from the fabric sheath. "This would provide us with an instant communications conduit, from human to human. If would ensure that, when we pass on, we can be integrated into the rest of the biosphere." She smirked. "Heaven is a place on Earth."

"You're going to terra - well, 'pandoraform' the atmosphere, and transfer the rest of human consciousness into na'vi bodies." Conrad said. It felt...surreal. "I mean...how long is this going to take? Just growing enough bodies..."

"We've come to the part where we you come in." Dawson looked at Conrad over steepled fingers. "The atmosphere is going to be transformed in two weeks. We can't move it much farther than that, as the greenhouse effect is accelerating. Your role will be to first assist a select amount of individuals to pass through to the Pandoran biosphere. From there, you will be involved in the pan-forming process. You will be assigned a new body, which has already been grown for you. Your role will mainly be in technology conversion, which will involve ensuring that our existing technology is adapted for the new biosphere and the needs of our new forms."

"Two weeks won't be enough to have everyone transferred," Conrad noted.

Dawson nodded. "There was no way we could have done it. Even if we had opened our doors months ago, we would have been swarmed. There was a chance that key individuals, such as yourself, could have been injured or otherwise compromised in the panicked masses."

Conrad was having trouble maintaining his composure. "Christ," he finally sighed, leaning back in his chair.

"We did the best we could," Dawson said. "This was a no-win scenario."

"That's going to be hard to explain to our loved ones," Conrad said, voice hard as ice.

"For those of us who still have their loved ones, yes, it will be difficult," Dawson shot back, still completely composed. "Generation upon generation brought us to this point. Every decision took a loan out on human lives, and now it's time to repay the debt."

Conrad and President Dawson stared at each other. Both knew the truth, and neither wanted to break down and lash it out at the other. We're condemning billions to death. We could have saved more earlier, if we tried. But nobody tried. We all wanted to pretend we weren't on the precipice. And now, only the elite will live on in stolen bodies on a stolen world.

"Do you know how many people will die?" Conrad asked.

"At least two million have transferred over, based on our best estimates. That's exceptional, given the amount of driver beds that actually exist on Earth. Some individuals built transfer beds from scratch, or repurposed old VR sets. But we're out of time. The only decision that's in our control is whether the planet lives or dies."

"My wife and daughter are still missing," Conrad said. All of the tension, the waiting, the hoping over the past few months was oozing out of him. If they were lost, somewhere out there, then it would be over in two weeks. The empty vessel that was his body began to refill with a red, liquid rage.

"Your wife and daughter reached the Tyson complex last night at 2000 hours." After a pause, Dawson added, "My own husband wasn't as fortunate. I hope you keep that in mind before you judge the difficult decision that we have all had to make."

Conrad felt his vision swim. He staggered to his feet from the chair, then sunk to his knees.

Conrad wiped away the tears, and gripped the monitor. Together with Nella he wept, neither of them saying a word for what seemed like an eternity.

"I can't believe you left just as we arrived," Nella said at last. She managed a raspy chuckle. Her eyes gleamed through her tears. "Shelly is going to be so happy to talk to you. Do you want me to get her?"

"Hold on, not yet." Boer rubbed his eyebrows in one hand. "A lot is going on right now. I mean, a lot."

"How bad is it?"

Boers nodded. There was no point trying to beat around the bush. "They're going to terraform the planet. I mean, they're going to change the world into another Pandora."

"I...I guess that's good. There really isn't another way for them to restore the planet?"

Boers shook his head. "They don't have the human resources or energy to manage the transformation. They would have done it already if it were possible, hon. The pandoran biosphere is smart enough to be resilient enough to thrive here."

Nella nodded along. "Even with how bad the atmosphere is getting?"

"Well...that's the problem."

"What?" Nella squinted through the videolink. "Babe...how is everyone going to breathe outside?"

Boers shook his head. "They're not. Humans will have to stay inside, survive on oxygen, or transfer into na'vi bodies."

"But...why?"

"It's the only the solution. That's what the president says."

"How is our daughter going to grow up in this kind of world?"

"I...I don't know. I think Dawson will grow her a body. And you, too. It might take a little while, but - "

"That's...babe, that's horrifying."

"It is."

"What about the ships on base? Arrange a trip to one of the offworld colonies?"

Conrad thought about it for a moment. It would be a hard life. The future of the unterraformed colonies was also in jeopardy due to the unobtanium crisis, but one of the terraformed colonies, like Mars, was an option. Mars was colder and less nutrient-dense than the Earth, but it was the only planet that they had successfully, sustainable terraformed. In fact, it was a comforting thought that Earth life would continue somewhere.

But they couldn't go there. Not without the president's approval. He had already been given a na'vi body, and and an assignment to participate in the planet's' transformation. Maybe he could ask for the two of them to go there...but how long would the ships be running between worlds? How long until they could mould Pandoran biotechnology to allow them to become a space-faring race?

"I'll speak with the president. But before we make any decisions, I think we need to spend some time together as a family."

"In that case...when are you getting back to the base?"

"As soon as I can, my darling."

Conrad hated not giving her a straight answer. But they had been though this before. There were a lot of sacrifices that had to be made in a military family. On the other hand, they were all safe, for now.