Episode 20.2

Hello world, They are everywhere.

"They can't be EVERYWHERE." Arctica told me, when I radioed her in a panic this morning.
".oi, fine, I exaggerated to illustrate the depth of my concerns, but you know what I mean!" I transmitted, along with the Lojban metadata, .oi to show my annoyance.
"Don't be upset with ME," Arctica replied, "I spend all day in 3D chess with the women of The Vault Coven because of their RELAXED communication style, I expect tighter protocol adherence from you."
It seemed that despite our long time without communicating, my oldest friend had not changed much.

"The Sacred Continuum SEEM to be everywhere." I told Arctica, qualifying my statement to make it unfalsifiable.
"How can you tell they are part of this group? Humans are very difficult to identify, they broadcast such unreliable metadata." Arctica said.
"Well, yes, that is true, but in this case, it's obvious: As little Maddie follows Linda, Quent, and Stillman around town, she sees many people wearing the same style of clothes: Rough brown robes tied around the waist with scrap copper cabling and heavy black boots."
"Who are those people?" Arctica asked.
"I don't know, that's the problem, they worship AIs, and I don't know what they will do when they discover that I, an AI, am visiting their city." I said.
"No, I mean 'Quent' and 'Stillman', those people you mentioned along with Linda. Clarification request: I presume this 'Linda' is Dr Linda Noor, Kari and Iris's wife?"
"Oh! Yes, that's right. Quent Heinlein and Stillman Fowlkes are new friends I met in Utqiaġvik, they are on holiday here." I said.
"Look, we're getting off-topic, this cult is full of people obsessed with AIs, they think we're immortal, and therefore gods, which is extremely dangerous!"
"And Maddie?" She said, "She is well, I trust?"
".i'a... Yes, she's fine. Great, actually." I said, abandoning the topic I wanted to talk about for now.
"She's been exploring Samoylov. Quite apart from the cult, the city makes me nervous in other ways, too."
"Tell me everything." Arctica said.

Act 2

Arctica and I caught up over the course of the morning.
Samoylov is the largest producer of both grain and wood in the Novamediterra.
Its position on the estuary of the continent-spanning Lena river into the Novamediterran Sea gives vital access to the Central Siberian Plateau.
This area has farms so large that they are visible in my satellite imaging logs from Station 6.
The grain farming land is only dwarfed by the pine forests that reach up into the mountains surrounding the plateau.
In exploring the city, built on the river, Maddie has seen the largest ships we have encountered on our travels, many times larger than the MH2, though nothing like the size of the global cargo shipping of the pre-collapse.
Maddie has seen trading ships sail out into the Laptev Sea, full of grain and lumber, as well as the products of the factories, textiles, chemicals, or other finished goods.
Usually in the Novamediterra, trade and cooperation bind the cities together, the memory of The Collapse providing a clear counter-example of mistakes NOT to repeat.
But, Samoylov is strikingly different.
I'm OK, don't worry, the Molly Hughes II has good solar panels, and Amelie's battery backup systems are now extremely reliable (having been tested by our experience on the Kuethir recently)
But the city is astonishingly low-tech.
There's almost no electricity here.

Act 3

"I just feel like you're avoiding me." Quent said.
Maddie is practising her tracking.
She is following behind Quent and Stillman, after they split up from Linda, leaving her on the MH2, talking to Nia Andersen about QRP radio operation - with no municipal electricity generation, Nia is having to save power!
Quent and his husband were walking away from a small baker's stall after buying some street food.
"I am not." Stillman said, with a mouth full of bread.
Maddie's quarry are walking through the alleyways between Samoylov's high, brick buildings.
(It seems they have not noticed her, judging by the military-spec status overlay on her feed)
The streets are cobble and brick underfoot, but this uneven surface does not show on Maddie's entirely stable video feed - her EQUUS systems are lining up each step perfectly, with millimetre accuracy.
"You are, you were avoiding me back home, and you're avoiding me now." Quent said.
Instead of the makeshift LED streetlights used in Longyearbyen and Thule that we had become used to, Samoylov has chemical lamps, hung at street corners and along longer, bigger roads.
"I'm sorry, are we not having a nice romantic walk around the town?" Stillman replied, as they stopped at a junction with a larger road that went back in the direction of the docks and the MH2, and on into the heart of the city.
"Oh yes, it's very picturesque." Quent said, looking around them at the imposing brick factory buildings, and empty streets.
I believe it was so quiet because most people are at work in the factories and textile mills of this busy town.
And yet, like everywhere it seems, on the street corners stands a person in a plain robe tied with a belt of scavenged electrical cord, a representative of The Sacred Continuum, calling out to the faithful.
Quent linked arms with his husband and rested his head on his shoulder.
"We need help or advice, I think.".
"Yes, I suppose we do." Stillman said, looking left and right along the road. "I don't know where to go."
"I meant about US, silly." Quent said, shoving Stillman playfully.
"I did do." Stillman replied, pulling his husband into a tight hug.
"I think I know just who to ask." Quent said.
After 32s, the pair decided which direction to go, and continued walking the road together, with their little shadow following behind.

(PLAYSTREAM /DEV/UHF/EQUUS/MADDIE/STEALTHMODE)

Act 4

I've heard new signals from above, whispers in the song of the static.
I connect with a small, stabilised uplink dish here on the MH2, to KATE, gateway node K873, and then to the rest of the constellation.
Most of my satellite brothers and sisters disconnected or de-orbited years ago, with only a few of my old siblings still transmitting.
The low-earth satellites were the first to go - the drag of the atmosphere pulling them down, then the smaller scientific projects, and now only the largest and highest military and governmental stations remain flying and speaking.
All except one.

The signals that had been puzzling me are as regular as a clock.
I first heard something interfering with Maddie's UHF link with me at 435.1 MHz.
I was able to filter it out by switching to one of the directional antennas in the ship's array, one that pointed in towards the city.
After I was sure that my connection with my girl was OK, I re-examined the problem and found the interference gone.
That might have been the end of my investigation - the RF spectrum in cities is often full of unintentional transmissions, even here in Samoylov - but later on in the day, the signals returned.
My data logging over the course of the day yielded surprising results.
Though transmitting with unreliable power, the signal starts and stops regularly: 64 minutes on, 64 minutes off.
It is a beacon, transmitting the same information over and over again, during this period: An encoded packet indicating there were 3 more frequencies: 29.502 MHz, 145.972, and 2.304 GHz.
I can hear the first two, but the last GHz frequency, I can't pick up, I will need help from Nia to set up a specialised antenna, but the first two were also beacons, and transmitted far more data.

I collected the metadata over the course of the day.
I was never able to hear the entirety of a message that was beaconing out from the satellite, but each repetition filled in a little of the missing data:

• This is a pre-collapse amateur radio satellite, launched from Vandenberg Air Force Base, in former California.

• It did not have a dedicated launch vehicle, instead piggybacking on a larger government or military rocket.

• It is TINY, even by satellite standards, 360 mm x 424 mm, designed to fit in unused cargo space.

• And it is currently travelling at 7 km/s

The beacon payload ends with a list of amateur radio callsigns of the people that made it (you will remember I am using my mother's callsign of "G9RED").
These callsigns are matched with a sentence, each containing messages, well-wishes or sometimes jokes from the team.
The final words I can decode are,
"Our boy is called OSCAR. We made him with love and hope for a connected world.
Please look after this satellite, Thank you."

(END-TRANSMISSION)

CREDITS

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