After the Collapse: The Nubs Trilogy #1

By Charles G. Dyer

Thirty years after the Collapse, the Few use androids to do most of the work in isolated Nubs while the Masses struggle to survive. The Few are on the brink of extinction.
An android named Valda wants to please her master, Martin. She helps him with plans to stimulate population growth and social interaction amongst the Few.
Beyond the security of the Nubs are countless treasures in the form of books, music and other cultural artefacts. Valda and Martin want to recover some of their lost culture. They are not sure if there are any survivors outside the Nubs. Strange times need strange ideas...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Charles G. Dyer
• Release date: Sep 22, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310790287

Charles G. Dyer

Charles Dyer is a consulting engineer, former senior lecturer and former technical magazine editor. He creates 3D models to help with visualisation and realism in his writing.

Book preview

After the Collapse

The Nubs Trilogy #1

A dystopian paranormal romance

Charles G. Dyer

Copyright © 2013 Charles G Dyer

All rights reserved.

ISBN-13: 9781310790287

Smashwords Edition

License

Thank you for purchasing this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are products of the author's imagination. It remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to purchase their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

It would be greatly appreciated if you could post a review on the site where you purchased this book. If you have any comments about this book, good or bad, you can write to me at [e-mail].

Other books in the Nubs Trilogy:

Book Two – After the Plague

Book Three – After the Cloning

They can be found at:

https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/chas1951

Contents

Chapter_One

Chapter_Two

Chapter_Three

Chapter_Four

Chapter_Five

Chapter_Six

Chapter_Seven

Chapter_Eight

Chapter_Nine

Chapter_Ten

Chapter_Eleven

Chapter_Twelve

Chapter_Thirteen

Chapter_Fourteen

Chapter_Fifteen

Chapter_Sixteen

Chapter_Seventeen

Chapter_Eighteen

Chapter_Nineteen

Chapter_Twenty

Chapter_Twenty_One

About_The_Author

Chapter One

The mildly irritating electronic voice of the Monitor buzzed through the Graft. Mister Lee, your Mark 12 Golem is moving away from its designated fixed location.

Martin sighed and answered, Yes, I know. She is with me to assist on a project.

The automated Monitor said, That is irregular. You must apply for clearance.

Fine, then just give me clearance so that I can get on with my work. He smiled at the subject of the conversation. Then he remembered the penalties for infringement of the regulations. I'm sorry I forgot to apply sooner. It was a spur of the moment decision. I hope you will not hold that against me.

The Golem in question tilted her head quizzically. Martin squeezed her hand reassuringly, and motioned her to wait until the conversation was over. She smiled back at him.

Each Golem was fitted with a tracking device that was supervised by the Monitor in every Nub. Most of the Few that had chosen to have a Golem in their homes or work places kept them in one location. The Nubs had decided to keep tabs on the androids in case of malfunction, and for security reasons.

Your record will remain clear, the Monitor said. What is your destination? How often do you intend moving your Golem?

Thank you for your consideration, Martin said. I need to visit Nubs 7, 8 and 15. These will be regular movements for an indefinite period.

After an unusually long pause the Monitor said, Clearance has been registered. You may proceed.

He terminated the link by pressing the subcutaneous switch just below his ear. Sorry about that, Valda. The Monitor is a stickler for regulations, you know, and I didn't think to get permission before taking you with me.

I figured that out from hearing your side of the communication. I assume that clearance has now been approved? she asked. Her voice was well-modulated and virtually indistinguishable from that of a living person.

Yes dear, it has. Martin didn't particularly like the name Valda, but that was her programmed name, and it had grown on him in much the same way that she had become more than a mere machine to him.

She was a dear companion, and she had developed an understanding of his ways. He doubted that a human would easily duplicate her sensitivity to his needs or be as tolerant of his idiosyncrasies. Acquiring Valda was probably the best decision that he had ever made. Not only was she a friend, but a useful and capable worker that had ensured his rise in society. At least that was the way he liked to think of his Golem-assisted achievements.

Martin glanced at her as they walked towards the Nub 2 Tube Station. A mere twenty years earlier, when he was a boy, androids had still been easily identifiable as such. Now it was almost impossible to tell some of them apart from humans. The Golem Corporation had perfected simulated skin, artificial intelligence and the mechanisms that drove their products. They had even gone so far as to provide a heating system under the skin to ensure a realistic body temperature in their Marks 10 and upwards. The more labour-oriented models did not have such features, and were more easily recognisable as androids from close quarters or, in some types, at a distance.

The sunlight caught her dark golden tresses and infused them with a lustre he had previously not noticed, probably because he had never seen her out of doors before. Her well-brushed locks bounced enticingly as she walked. She never ceased to fascinate and amaze him. He often pondered whether or not he could have had had a relationship even half as successful and satisfying with a human woman.

Rather than getting a Golem on contract and having it replaced almost every year, Martin had opted to buy her outright. His rationale at the time being that he could mould her to his way of thinking over an extended period. He was glad of his choice because Valda had, in fact, more than lived up to his expectations.

She was no longer the heartless mechanical servant he had ordered. Over the three years that he had her, she developed a distinct personality, and she was constantly learning and adapting. Valda was always modifying herself to suit his whims and to please him. She was far from being a mechanical sycophant because she would intelligently argue issues with Martin when the need arose. On more than one occasion she had saved him from embarrassing mistakes.

Isolation had many benefits for the Few. While the Masses eked out a pitiful existence after the Collapse, the Few had retreated into their Nubs and sealed themselves in. Over time, the Nubs had used deep-level mining techniques to establish links between each other to form the Network. The Masses were completely unaware of these links or what went on inside the Nubs.

***

The Collapse was the result of too many people and too few occupations. The ever-dwindling reserves of the world's oil pushed fuel prices beyond the reach of the average man. Not even the eleventh hour intervention of governments and hastily arranged alternative sources of fuel could lower the prices significantly enough to make any difference.

Massive unemployment, the failures of stock markets and a general lack of discipline led to riots, looting, and a polarisation of the Haves and Have-nots. Police forces and the military divided into two camps. One lot stayed loyal to the state while the rest joined forces with the disgruntled general populace. They also felt the panic brought about by rising prices and had more sympathy for their fellow citizens than they did for their bureaucratic employers. Of course, this division fuelled the mayhem.

Initially, the Few comprised a collection of the finest minds in the form of scientists, intellectuals and similar prime movers. In essence, they were an exclusive club of farsighted individuals who were scared into action by the unfolding of events beyond their control. These visionaries had had the forethought to provide safe havens in what they saw as an unstable future. The greed, stupidity and unreasonable behaviour of the Masses had reached intolerable levels. Multitudes of viable industries had been forced to close down because the demands of the workers simply could not be met.

***

Martin pressed Valda's hand lightly. This is the first time you've been out, so I guess you're wondering what everything is.

Hmm, Valda returned the squeeze, I was not very attentive when I delivered myself to you. She grinned. I was in a rush to get to you, so I just ignored my surroundings.

Martin smiled, Before things got completely out of hand, the Few managed to salvage enough resources to build the Nubs. The Nubs are basically walled fortresses containing key industrial facilities. Each Nub is capable of independent operation and survival.

He pointed to the solar panels on every building and the slowly rotating blades of the wind turbines. Solar and wind energies are harnessed to provide electrical power.

Much of this information was programmed into Valda's general knowledge database. She politely listened to Martin without enlightening him to the fact.

These fields of crops are all sections of reclaimed roads and, he pointed, over there are hydroponic hothouses that together grow sufficient vegetables for our needs. Poultry, pigs, sheep and cattle are maintained on a smaller scale in batteries at the livestock centre. Martin pointed again as they walked. As you know, meat, eggs and dairy products are issued on a roster basis, as they become available.

It looks as though the Few thought of everything, Valda said and Martin nodded thoughtfully.

***

Limited resources were recycled whenever possible. Nothing was wasted; even sewage was used to recover water, essential chemicals and fertiliser. Clothing was standardised to optimise the use of scarce plastics. There were no natural fibres for general use, other than a short supply of leather and wool from the small livestock population.

Some of the Nubs did grow small quantities of cotton and flax for use in specialised fabrics. Such fabrics where absorbency was essential were best made with cotton rather than synthetics. Sanitary and medicinal users were the primary applications for cotton-based materials.

Chemists had their work cut out for them in trying to produce a suitable universal yarn without a full complement of manufacturing facilities and a scarcity of the necessary chemicals. They eventually settled on a method of melting down thermoplastics obtained from scavenging or recycling. The melted polymers were spun in purpose-made centrifuges and extruded through tiny apertures into a coolant. This gave them a sort of long-chain polymer candyfloss mess that could then be spun in a similar way to cotton spinning to produce a useable yarn.

Experimentation with available chemicals and careful sorting of plastics into their various types meant that they were able to produce a consistent supple yarn that was resistant to abrasion and bacteria. By varying spinning techniques, they could produce a range of yarn deniers and types. The available machinery that could be adapted to textile production was also a factor in the final choice of fabrics. Only knitted materials could be produced. The resultant fabrics were thus all essentially similar. By using different yarn deniers and slight variations in the tension of the knitting machines they could make hosiery, summer-weight and winter-weight fabrics.

As with most things in the Nubs, clothing was issued on a roster basis that was strictly controlled according to functional need. Therefore, most of the Few had only three or four changes of clothes at any given time. Requests for replacements were only met on receipt of the garments that had worn out or been damaged in some way.

Women mostly favoured wearing slacks suits in winter, swapping them for skirts and blouses in summer. In the interests of conservation of resources, drawstrings in the waistbands of pants and slacks had replaced fasteners and zips. Jackets, shirts and blouses had no fasteners at all and were slipped on over the head of the wearer. One variation that could be accommodated was colour, so at least the Nub apparel was not entirely uniform, although many chose the more serviceable grey.

Amongst the bric-a-brac brought to the Nubs, when the Few had first settled there, were some sewing machines. These found their way to those who were most proficient and they set themselves up as tailors or seamstresses. If the standard clothing did not fit satisfactorily, they would do alterations to suit the wearer. This meant that people could be dress-conscious if they were not happy with the loose-fitting standard issue. Only a small fraction of the Few took advantage of this luxury that, like everything else, did not actually cost anything besides persistent diligence.

***

Look up there, Valda. Martin pointed to the top of the perimeter wall of the Nub. See there's an armed Militia Golem on patrol. Most of the original Militia are either dead or have been pensioned off. Golems manage most security and they do all the menial tasks, leaving us humans free to pursue more rewarding occupations.

Were Golems part of the Few's original plan? Valda asked.

Not as far as I know, Martin said, there were a handful of them to start with, but I guess the Few preferred not to dirty their hands with lowly chores, so more were made.

Crime within the Nubs was practically non-existent. The punishment for disturbing the delicate balance that had been achieved was severe. Death had been voted as the only suitable and acceptable punishment. Banishment to the Masses was regarded as too risky because the banished person could disclose the secrets of the Nub and might lead an uprising against one or more of the Nubs.

Martin felt compelled to tell Valda about the crimes that carried the death penalty, I don't know what they would do to you, but Nubs rules demand death for anyone who; one, fails to contribute to the Nub by means of some meaningful employment. Two, has more than the allotted two children. Three, wilfully damages or disrupts any installation or operation. Four, commits theft or fraud. Five, commits any anti-social behaviour such as attacks on another person or deliberate damage to their property. And six, interferes with the Landlink in any way, particularly by writing or introducing viruses or any other kind of malignant software.

I guess they would purge my database and recycle me. Valda nudged Martin with her elbow.

It's no joking matter, my dear. Martin frowned. I'd hate to see you melted down. Just remember the rules and stick to them, OK?

Fine, Valda said, I wasn't joking. Just making a logical observation of the likely penalty for a wicked Golem.

Martin continued to tell Valda about the regulations. Lesser crimes resulting in a conviction by a Council of Fifteen, appointed at random by the Monitors, are punished with hard labour for a minimum period of three months. These crimes include littering, repeated disregard of regulations, disruptive behaviour that could include interference in personal relationships.

Would a Golem's master be held responsible for the Golem's actions? Valda asked.

I don't know, dear. Martin lifted one shoulder. I guess that I'll have to look that up on the Landlink.

The couple passed farmers tending their crops in large sections of what had once been busy city streets. The farmers' distinctly mechanical movements betrayed their identities as lower model Golems, designed for specific routine tasks. A closer look at these labourer-class Golems would reveal that they had metal skins and clearly mechanical joints. The Crop Specialist Golems were painted to look as though they were wearing green overalls. Rare plastics could not be spared for aesthetic effect on their kind.

Valda edged closer to Martin and whispered, I'm glad I don't look like that, Martin.

Martin laughed. So am I, my dear. I doubt that I would've got you if that were the case.

Humph, Valda snorted, so, you're only interested in my body and not my brains, huh?

I, eh… Martin stammered and looked at Valda. She was grinning, so he laughed. Ha, ha, you nearly got me there.

In the distance, a team of similar Golems was methodically dismantling a derelict building and carefully separating the recovered materials into categorised heaps. They were painted brown to identify them as General Utility Golems. Where possible, sections of concrete were sawn into manageable blocks that could be used as building materials. It was with such specially cut blocks that the Tube tunnels had been lined.

Closer to the Tube Station, they could see more of the great slow-moving blades of wind-powered generators that were dotted about the periphery of the Nub. Most buildings were clad with solar panels that generally gave them independent power supplies or at least minimised their need to draw power from the main Nub grid.

Martin and Valda arrived at the Tube Station. He grinned at her. This will be a new experience for you, won't it?

She squeezed his hand gently. Well, not really Martin. You see I was made at Nub 8 and sent here by Tube. But that was some time ago so it is an unusual event for me.

Oh, I just assumed that Golem made all their models here, he said as the smile dropped from his face.

***

The Tube tunnel was quite small with an internal diameter of less than twice the height of an average man. A single suspension guide-rail disappeared into the darkness. Two linked bullet-nosed cars stood waiting next to the platform. The gull-wing doors were open while passengers stood waiting for the goods containers to be slid into their slots below the passenger compartments. Once the containers were secured the passengers climbed the steps and strapped themselves into the reclining bucket seats. Each car had three rows of three seats. When everybody was aboard, the dove-grey attendant Golems clamped the gull-wing doors closed. Their colouring and metal finish marked them as Tube Labourers.

Soft light bathed the interior and the faint hum of the maglev motors increased in intensity. Martin recognised a few faces but did not speak to anyone. The train picked up speed and then rapidly descended down the steep slope of the Tube. Martin held his nose and puffed out his cheeks.

What are you doing? Valda asked.

The increase in pressure as we go deeper at such a speed causes pain in our ears if we do not equalise the pressure. Of course, you do not have that problem, he laughed, I also feel as if I left my stomach on the platform.

Oh yes, I think I understand the feeling. I read something about motion sickness. As you say that sort of thing does not affect me. She turned and touched his arm, Do you feel ill?

No, not really, the discomfort passes quickly when you get used to it, he sighed as the train levelled off.

***

The Tube trains usage was restricted to conserve energy. Scheduled trips were dependent on a full complement of cargo and passengers. Generally, there were only a few daily trips between Nubs. If a person wanted to travel between Nubs they had to plan well in advance if they wanted to avoid overnight stops. The limited travel and small populations of the Nubs meant that there was no warrant for hotels. A traveller needed to arrange accommodation at a household that was prepared to offer a bed-and-breakfast service. There were not many such establishments.

In recent years, the Nubs had linked their communications so that it was now possible to speak to anyone within the Network of Nubs through the Graft. One merely had to engage the device and ask the local Monitor to connect one to the desired party. The Monitors had access to all data stored on each of the Nubs mainframe computers.

***

The automated train began ascending the slope to the station at the next Nub. As it neared the surface, power was cut and momentum carried the cars to a calculated stop at the platform. Grey Golems opened the doors and the passengers disembarked to go their separate ways. Electric-powered tractors with trailers waited to one side to load and unload the cargo containers and ferry them to their respective destinations.

Martin stood on the platform and held out a helping hand for Valda as she climbed down the steps of the car. She took his hand with a smile. Thank you Martin. They left the Tube Station as the sky started to darken with threatening clouds.

Light drizzle made them quicken their pace. The summer sun had warmed the streets enough to cause steam to rise now as the first drops darkened the sidewalk paving with polka-dot stains. A few electric buggies drove along the almost deserted streets. For most of the Few, walking the relatively empty streets was a pleasure and an exercise. The demand for vehicles was small. In fact, most travel in the Nubs was in the vertical plane rather than the horizontal one. The ground area was quite small and the buildings were generally quite tall.

Two blocks from the Tube Station, Martin turned into the entrance of a 30-storey building. A brown-uniformed Golem of an obviously inferior model stood at the door and asked his business. Martin told it his name and the name of the person he was visiting. The Golem pressed the Graft button below its ear. Martin Lee to see you, Madam. The Golem listened to the reply. You can go up now to floor 23, room number 8.

The glass doors swung open to admit Martin and Valda. In the lift she laughed, Look at me. I'm soaked through.

Martin turned and drank in the sight. Her thin blouse clung to every contour and made her look far too provocative for the moment. We can't have you looking like that or we'll never get any business done.

Valda pouted in mock-disappointment. Oh very well, spoilsport. I'll have to overcharge my heating circuits and then you'll owe me one. She wagged a finger at him

By the time they stepped out of the lift, Valda's blouse was dry and her skirt was dry enough to appear decent. Martin had to make do with his wet clothes. The door to room number 8 was open. A short, slender and well-groomed woman in her late thirties stood waiting for them. She smiled as they approached. Martin, what a pleasure to see you again. And who is your lovely companion?

Hello Bernadette, I am glad to see you too. This is my wife, Valda. He looked from one to the other, Valda, meet Bernadette Reilly.

The woman made a poor show of hiding her shock. Oh, you're married now are you. When did that happen? Bernadette put her hand to her mouth, Oh please forgive my manners. Do come in both of you. She closed the door behind them.

Martin laughed, Almost three years now and all the better for it.

Bernadette gestured at the chairs around a table. Oh well, a belated congratulations to you both. Sit down and make yourselves comfortable. Would you care for some tea? I have Camomile or Catnip.

Martin held up a hand in polite refusal. Not for me thanks, both of them are too relaxing and I need my wits about me.

I'll have a small Catnip, thank you Bernadette, Valda said as she fluffed out her skirt.

Martin's eyebrows shot up involuntarily and he cast a glance at Valda as Bernadette went to make the tea. Valda pretended that she did not notice and studied her surroundings until Bernadette returned with the tea tray. She poured two cups and handed one to Valda. There you are Valda.

Thanks. You have a lovely place here. Did you decorate it yourself? Valda asked and sipped the steaming tea.

Yes, I prefer to add my personal touch to my home cum office. Bernadette sat down on a sofa. The only thing that spoils it a bit is the view of the Masses and the mess they made, but I have learned to look in the distance to avoid the mayhem.

He couldn't help staring for a moment longer at Valda drinking tea. Right, let's get onto more pleasant things, like the business at hand.

Hmm, I've given your proposal some thought Martin and you can count me in. Most of our business can be conducted through the Graft and the Landlink. Travel will seldom be necessary. I can provide satisfactory Landlink encryptions that not even the Monitors will attempt to break. We'll just have to be careful about what we say on the Graft. Bernadette tugged at a stray strand of her sleek black hair that was showing signs of greying.

Good and have you kept your hand in at design? Martin asked.

Indeed I have. One has to appease the Nubs you know. Coincidentally, I have been concentrating on the development of amplified piezoelectric power on a microscopic scale. That could well be useful in our little project, Bernadette cocked her head. I've been juggling the thickness to area ratios of various tailored ceramic piezoelectric crystals and the applied pressure to maximise power output. Actually, it's a refinement of the Graft power supply.

Oh, Martin said, I never realised that the Graft used piezoelectronics. Never really gave it any thought to be honest.

It makes sense, if you think about it. The Graft is implanted in everyone, so imagine what a nuisance it would be to have to surgically replace batteries all the time. Resonance from our voices agitates tiny oscillators that in turn stimulate a series of microscopic piezoelectric generators. They charge capacitors to power the Graft. No need for batteries or inconvenience at all. Bernadette sipped her tea.

For about four years, Golem Corporation have used that technique as a means of powering their new generation of androids, Valda said. She nearly added that her own circuits were full of such transponders and then remembered that Martin had introduced her as his wife and he might not want Bernadette to know that she was a Golem.

Oh really? I wasn't aware of that, Bernadette said over the top of her cup.

Valda nodded, Their idea is that they can use the motion of walking, combined with geared linkages to provide sufficient compressive effort on banks of piezo-crystals located in the feet, knees and hips and all the other joints to generate enough electricity to charge capacitors and recharge batteries.

Ha, that is interesting and we may even be able to adapt that concept to our needs. The biggest challenge will be finding a sustainable source of mechanical pressure. I think that the answers to that lie at your next port of call. She put her cup down. Did you marry her for her brains or her body Martin?

He laughed, Both. Good, that settled then. Bernadette, we'll be in touch with provisional plans once you upload your encryption software. You have my Landlink address. I don't want to seem rude but we have to get to two other Nubs today.

Valda stood up, Thanks for the tea. It was lovely meeting you Bernadette.

My pleasure, Bernadette insisted on hugging them both in farewell.

***

In the privacy of the lift, Martin said, What was that with drinking tea?

I merely wanted to dispel any notion that she might have had that I was an android, especially after you said I was your wife, Valda smiled.

Three years I've known you and never did I even think it possible that you could drink. Can you eat too? Martin asked.

Yes, if needs be. Marks 11 and better can both eat and drink. Of course, we don't need to for normal operation. It would look odd if we were invited to dinner and I just sat there while everyone was stuffing their faces. Don't forget that this is the first time I have ever been out of our home, so the need for pretence never arose before. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Humph, well I'll be damned. I never saw anything about that feature on the Landlink. He looked at Valda with amazement. How do you get rid of it?

Ooh, we are getting personal aren't we, she laughed. She gave his hand another little squeeze, Pretty much the same way you do, except that we don't digest it. Simply go to a lavatory, open the appropriate valve and flush it out. Some foodstuffs need a little detergent water to ensure that no fermentation or corrosion can take place. The holding tank has baffles to prevent sloshing sounds if we move about before we get a chance to discharge the mush.

***

They walked on a bit. Getting back to my being your wife… Valda deliberately left the sentence dangling.

Well, Valda you might as well be. After all, we have been together for three years, Martin said.

During which time, I've been cloistered in your home and completely isolated from contact with anyone at all. There was no hint of accusation or emotion in her statement.

Martin gazed at her while they walked, Are you unhappy with the arrangement?

Don't be silly Martin. You know that I am not programmed to have any emotions and that you could lock me up in a cupboard for months on end without adversely effecting any of my functions or my loyalty to you. It's simply a matter of form, Valda squeezed his hand, what if you told somebody I was your wife and they used the Landlink to do some research into our backgrounds? That could seriously undermine your credibility.

***

As they walked, Martin mulled over what Valda had said. Two lies had been told or implied. That Valda was his wife when she was not was bad enough. That he was claiming an android to be his wife could be construed by some as unacceptably deviant behaviour. The damage has been done Valda. How are we going to get out of this mess?

Valda was silent for so long that he repeated the question before she said, Well, there is the Golem Ring.

What in Hades name is that? he spluttered.

No need to get upset Martin dearest. The Golem Ring is a sort of network that I shouldn't even be telling you about. We Golems have the same Grafts that you humans have. The Marks 11 and better keep in touch with each other through what we call the Ring. There are not that many of us you know, so it was easy for us to form a little clique. No harm in it at all, we simply exchange ideas and gossip a bit.

Golems gossiping, who'd have thought it possible! Well, that's a new one on me. I take it that I should keep quiet about this aspect of android society? Martin asked.

The Ring would appreciate your silence. If Golem Corporation heard about it, we'd probably all be recalled for reprogramming, Valda said, anyway, I think the Ring could be our best shot at a solution to your indiscretion.

He sighed, Fine consider me silenced, but how can this Ring of yours help?

I'll put out word of our predicament. Don't worry the Ring is discreet and well connected. Some of us have powerful or influential masters and therefore access to fairly useful facilities and so on, she said and squeezed his hand a bit harder than usual, if anyone can get us out of this mess, the Ring can.

Nothing against regulations I hope. So far this indiscretion, as you call it, doesn't concern the Nubs and no rules have been broken, as far as I know. Only my reputation is at stake here, he said.

***

Their next Tube ride took them to Bruce McIntyre, a former aircraft designer, who now specialised in various applications of hydraulics. He was also most enthusiastic about the clandestine project and could barely contain his excitement. He assured them that he could meet the challenge.

Bruce bubbled away to the extent that both of them struggled to get a word in edgeways. My recommendation would be to use a twin-engine boomed structure with a stubby fuselage cradled between for the payload, computer and batteries. The tailplane effectively forms a bridge between the booms for stability. For strength and weight considerations, a moulded graphite-epoxy for most components, including the propellers, is your best bet. Go for brushless electric motors because they are less likely to give trouble. That, of course, is your baby, Martin. The air itself needs to be ducted around the motors and pulsed into the booms by valves driven off gears from the propeller shafts. The ducts can have an inner tubular core lined with a myriad annular rows of piezoelectric nano-fibre fins that bend and straighten and in so doing produce electrical current. Bernadette can work out the details on that side of things while I do the airframe. More than enough power can be generated in this way for a theoretically infinite flight duration. Initial momentum could either come from onboard batteries or from coupling to a land-based power grid.

Bruce, I thought of using thin-film amorphous silicon nano-flake photovoltaic cells on the wing surfaces as a standby power source and for recharging the lithium polymer batteries, do you agree? Valda said, They are flexible and nearly double the efficiency of standard solar cells.

Yes, in fact that ties in very nicely with my notion of wing-morphing instead of control surfaces like rudder, ailerons and elevators, Bruce said. Wing-warping goes back to the dawn of aviation but its chief advantage is significant weight reduction. Piezoelectric actuators in the wings allow for greater control of trim and directional stability than conventional methods. We're talking about a maximum altitude of around 8000 metres, right? Actually, you wouldn't want to go much higher than that because the higher you go the less the payload capacity. Anyway, that means the plane will be in clouds often, so encapsulation in a flexible gel coat will waterproof all the electronics.

What about putting turbine generators in the ducts? Martin asked.

No, no, that would never do. Turbines are way too heavy. Piezoelectrics can do the job at an absolute fraction of the weight. You want to save as much weight as possible. For that reason, use fixed not retractable landing gear as well. Besides, you would really upset Bernadette if you even mentioned that word near her, Bruce chuckled. We might have enough payload capacity to add another motor. Say a pusher at the back of the fuselage. That way, if one motor fails we'll have enough power to bring the plane home. I'll look into that and let you know. You said that you have a terabyte motherboard that is only forty-five by thirty by one millimetres. Humph, it's amazing, next thing you know they'll have electronic people.

Valda had difficulty not laughing at that. It was only Martin's frown and shake of the head that