my role
was… sorry, sorry, I should move on.
To continue:
In order to create Heimdall, a fleet of spacecraft was built. (This was before my time, I concede.) Each ship was massive,
and constructed with total redundancy. Nanocomputers were installed to do the work; but every system had a backup, every backup
had a backup. And each ship was crewed by five hundred potential space colonists, with a cargo of human sperm and every conceivable
seed and animal embryo in deep store.
The first vessel in the fleet was called the
Mayflower
. Tragically, all five hundred crew members died in deep space, after a collision with a dark-matter tornado. This was a phenomenon
we hadn’t even known about until it killed the world’s finest men and women. The names of those five hundred are engraved
in a plaque in New York Plaza, and in my heart. And in the history books.
But even though the crew was dead, the computers carried on sailing the spaceship. On and on it went on its long journey.
Using state-of-the-art fusion engines, it could reach speeds of almost two-thirds light speed.
After fifty years the
Mayflower
stopped. Its cargo of human embryos was unfrozen and carefully grown by robot nannies. Seeds were germinated and planted.
A Quantum Beacon was built by the pre-programmed robots and nanobots. And, once it was installed, instantaneous messages could
be transmitted between the
Mayflower
in its new home, and Earth.
And after that, vidphone and webcam links were created. Robots were then remotely built in humanoid form, complete with touch
and olfactory sub-programs. We could now see everything the robots could see, and feel what they felt, the moment that they
saw or felt it. Which means:
It’s as if we were there ourselves
. Suddenly, space had shrunk… with the help of virtual technology, a citizen of Earth could find him or her self on an
alien planet.
This first Quantum Beacon planet orbited a star which I named Asgard, after the home of the Norse Gods. And the virtual link
that connected us was called Heimdall, after the Rainbow Bridge that connected Asgard with Earth.
And meanwhile, all the time, other colony ships were landing. Other Beacons were being built. And the map of space was filled
with the dots of human settlements . . .
It took four hundred years for Heimdall to become the masterpiece it now is. Quantum Beacons are dotted across all of known
space, and the virtual Rainbow Bridge that is Heimdall allows instant communications between all the regions of humanity.
And, all those years ago, actual control of the first space colonies was literally in my hands, and in my eyes. With the help
of a virtual bodysuit connected to robot bodies on the colony planets, I could walk on alien soil. I could move tractors across
arid plains. I could choose the music that played on the colony’s intercom, I could devise menus for the children who I was
growing there. I could do anything!
My focus in those early years was almost exclusively on the colonists of the Asgard star system. I named their planet Hope,
and it became my joy. I studied them, and encouraged them, and help shape their society.
But I was at pains to be sure that the new colonists did not ever become resentful of their “master” in a faraway land. The
settlers of Hope were my children, not my slaves. I became the perfect parent; all-seeing, all-protective, indulgent, and
immune to insult.
And much to my delight, the new colony of Hope turned into a wild and dangerous place. It was the first civilisation in human
history to have only one generation, grown from embryo by robots with unerring care. All the babies were babies together;
they all went to kindergarten together; and they all graduated to primary school level together. And then they became teenagers
together; they were thirteen together, they were fourteen together, they were fifteen together.
And thus, the children grew into adulthood. Every
was… sorry, sorry, I should move on.
To continue:
In order to create Heimdall, a fleet of spacecraft was built. (This was before my time, I concede.) Each ship was massive,
and constructed with total redundancy. Nanocomputers were installed to do the work; but every system had a backup, every backup
had a backup. And each ship was crewed by five hundred potential space colonists, with a cargo of human sperm and every conceivable
seed and animal embryo in deep store.
The first vessel in the fleet was called the
Mayflower
. Tragically, all five hundred crew members died in deep space, after a collision with a dark-matter tornado. This was a phenomenon
we hadn’t even known about until it killed the world’s finest men and women. The names of those five hundred are engraved
in a plaque in New York Plaza, and in my heart. And in the history books.
But even though the crew was dead, the computers carried on sailing the spaceship. On and on it went on its long journey.
Using state-of-the-art fusion engines, it could reach speeds of almost two-thirds light speed.
After fifty years the
Mayflower
stopped. Its cargo of human embryos was unfrozen and carefully grown by robot nannies. Seeds were germinated and planted.
A Quantum Beacon was built by the pre-programmed robots and nanobots. And, once it was installed, instantaneous messages could
be transmitted between the
Mayflower
in its new home, and Earth.
And after that, vidphone and webcam links were created. Robots were then remotely built in humanoid form, complete with touch
and olfactory sub-programs. We could now see everything the robots could see, and feel what they felt, the moment that they
saw or felt it. Which means:
It’s as if we were there ourselves
. Suddenly, space had shrunk… with the help of virtual technology, a citizen of Earth could find him or her self on an
alien planet.
This first Quantum Beacon planet orbited a star which I named Asgard, after the home of the Norse Gods. And the virtual link
that connected us was called Heimdall, after the Rainbow Bridge that connected Asgard with Earth.
And meanwhile, all the time, other colony ships were landing. Other Beacons were being built. And the map of space was filled
with the dots of human settlements . . .
It took four hundred years for Heimdall to become the masterpiece it now is. Quantum Beacons are dotted across all of known
space, and the virtual Rainbow Bridge that is Heimdall allows instant communications between all the regions of humanity.
And, all those years ago, actual control of the first space colonies was literally in my hands, and in my eyes. With the help
of a virtual bodysuit connected to robot bodies on the colony planets, I could walk on alien soil. I could move tractors across
arid plains. I could choose the music that played on the colony’s intercom, I could devise menus for the children who I was
growing there. I could do anything!
My focus in those early years was almost exclusively on the colonists of the Asgard star system. I named their planet Hope,
and it became my joy. I studied them, and encouraged them, and help shape their society.
But I was at pains to be sure that the new colonists did not ever become resentful of their “master” in a faraway land. The
settlers of Hope were my children, not my slaves. I became the perfect parent; all-seeing, all-protective, indulgent, and
immune to insult.
And much to my delight, the new colony of Hope turned into a wild and dangerous place. It was the first civilisation in human
history to have only one generation, grown from embryo by robots with unerring care. All the babies were babies together;
they all went to kindergarten together; and they all graduated to primary school level together. And then they became teenagers
together; they were thirteen together, they were fourteen together, they were fifteen together.
And thus, the children grew into adulthood. Every
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