Biosphere 4 (standard:science fiction, 10203 words)
Author: Phillip Jackson	Added: Jul 13 2004	Views/Reads: 3380/2158	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
An Inspector arrives on Earths first extra terrestrial colony, his 'formality' reporting soons shows that all is not well aboard Biosphere 4!

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

message instructing them to report to the doctor for a check up 
immediately. In a sealed and sterile environment such as this, so much 
as a mere hint of bacteria had to be eradicated before it had a whisker 
of a chance to breed. 

Needless to say, if anything untoward had happened to Jeppeson then it
would have been seen by Biospheres central system mainframe and help 
sent forthwith. If there was a problem with Biospheres mainframe then 
it would have been picked up on Earth. But nothing, apparently, had 
been noticed and it seemed to all ends that, quite unexplainably, he’d 
simply vanished into thin air. 

My name is James Hoyle, a fact confirmed by the printed information on
my business card. Employed as a consultant by F.M.S. Corporation 
(Future Marketing Solutions Corporation) who in-turn had been 
contracted by Biosphere Plc., I’d been sent to Biosphere 4 as an 
observer to undertake what could only be described as, ‘an audit of 
progress’. 

This whole trip had been arranged as an economical confidence booster
for the shareholders of Biosphere Plc. The reason for FMS Corp. being 
contracted to do this report was simple, investors were waiting with 
blank cheques ready to be signed but all interested parties had voiced 
the same tone in requiring an independent report to be produced and 
presented by an organisation totally unconnected to Biosphere Plc. This 
was quite a straightforward request and would do the trick as far as to 
calm their nerves and provide them with the confidence that Biosphere 4 
was a viable investment source with a prosperous looking long-term 
future. 

Space exploration had been big business for quite some time now without
quite reaching the desired level of private investment required to 
really push it forward to the next level. 

This audit, along with a lavish presentation and marketing campaign to
follow, would have the intended effect of not only keeping the interest 
of the present patrons alive and fresh but to also catch the eye of the 
people out there who had money to spend but were unsure of where to 
invest it. Although a joint U.K. and U.S. Government venture, which had 
quickly been turned into a public limited company, they were keen on 
attracting the involvement of other developed countries, especially 
Japan who’s technological developments would add great prospects to the 
future of Biosphere 4. Japan themselves were keen to join the fold, 
mostly due to the fact that their own attempts at extra terrestrial 
travel and research seemed plagued by failure, but in keeping with 
traditional they weren’t prepared to sign on the dotted line until 
every misgiving and doubt had been stringently investigated. 

In layman’s terms I’m a salesman. A salesman with little interest of
scientific matters and, although I’d done my research as stipulated in 
my contract for this particular assignment, I was beginning to feel as 
if they’d sent the wrong guy. 

I knew the background; Biosphere 4, a sealed environment orbiting the
Earth. It had been operational now for six months and was the combined 
brainchild of NASA and British Aerospace. Biosphere 2, (Earth being 
Biosphere 1) was established in Oracle, Arizona in the early nineteen 
nineties. It had been a large complex filled with man’s basic 
necessities and then closed to the outside world whilst being designed 
to support a crew of eight for two years. Unfortunately the abundance 
of plants that had been put in to produce sufficient breathable air for 
the duration of the experiment had not provided enough oxygen and more 
had to be pumped in through an emergency valve to keep the crew alive. 
The levels of carbon dioxide in the air had been way too high and the 
whole complex somehow had become disquietingly infested with 
cockroaches and ants. The experiment was officially pronounced a 
failure. 

Thirty years later NASA joined forces with British Aerospace, who had
already begun plans for a similar experiment, and with the extra 
funding from the U.S. Government Biosphere 3 was born. Without going 
into too much unnecessary detail and tedious dialogue the ensuing 
project this time had been a success and the next step was to repeat 
the process extra-terrestrial, and so came Biosphere 4. 

Biosphere 4 was finally deemed as officially operational on the 6th July
2052. It’s location, Lagrange Point 5; 240,000 miles from Earth (a 
point where the gravitational pull of the Earth and Moon would cancel 
each other out to give the colony relative stability). Hailed as man’s 
greatest achievement to date, Biosphere 4, a self supporting spinning 
cylindrical colony a mile in length was constructed using materials 
mined from both the moon, our only other off world colony, and Earth. 

A plentiful amount of vegetation had been planted to allow the colonists
to grow their own food, and also to make sure of a breathable 
atmosphere similar to that on Earth. Through the process of 
photosynthesis, the vegetation would convert the carbon dioxide 
breathed out by the colonists back into oxygen thus ensuring that the 
air would stay fresh. Water that’d evaporate from the leaves then would 
condense on the inner walls and fall as artificial rain. 

The light required for the plants to grow would be collected by solar
cells on the outer structure of the colony and would also be used to 
generate electricity (of course a backup emergency system had been put 
in place in the event of any unforeseen circumstances; imagine the 
uproar back on Earth if ten of the worlds top scientists died and the 
project failed just because the plants didn’t do their job properly). 

With major pharmaceutical companies and organisations from around the
globe offering to sponsor the numerous experiments that were to be 
conducted on the new colony (giving the prospect for the development of 
new manufacturing materials and ultra pure drugs), it also became a 
considerably large moneymaker for both Governments involved. It was now 
the job of Future Marketing Solutions Corporation and myself to make 
sure that the money would continue to flow and keep Biosphere 4 afloat. 
Biosphere 4’s future plans were to expand on the existing number of 
colonists by another ten but to do that a significant Dollar, Pound; 
Yen or Euro investment was presently required. 

My job was simple, to report on how the team was progressing in their
work, log my findings and then return back to Earth on the designated 
date when a Biosphere Plc. shuttle would arrive to collect me. On paper 
it was a run of the mill task, but during the oppressive past two weeks 
since my arrival many a strange occurrence had left me to ponder upon 
what was really going on here. 

Brought to my attention from the very start was the fact that not a
single member of this ten strong mission felt at ease in my presence 
and the thin veil of false hospitality that they’d used to hide their 
feelings was becoming ever more revealing with each day that passed. I 
was beginning to wonder whether or not they’d done away with Jeppeson 
by the manner in which they were reacting to his disappearance. Every 
time I so much as broached the subject with anyone then they would 
instantly clam up and try to change the topic, quite comically almost 
on occasions. 

My own feelings of anxiety were so much so that I’d already sent a
message back to Earth only yesterday evening asking for an early 
pickup. I wouldn’t say that I feared for my own safety, it was more 
just a case of closing the stable door before the horse had a chance to 
bolt. My message had read that things were going along quicker than I’d 
anticipated and I wouldn’t therefore need the allotted full four weeks 
to complete the job. I didn’t want to cause any alarm back on Earth but 
sensing that an early departure would please my new acquaintances I 
believed it to be the best course of action alround. Of course though, 
schedules had to be adhered to and the reply quickly came back that any 
chance of a shortened visit was completely out of the question. This 
was an important contract for Future Marketing and in that respect my 
own livelihood depended on the results I submitted. 

What was it that they were so scared of? What was it that was putting
them all on edge? It wasn’t as though I’d been sent to keep beady tabs 
on their scientific work or make detailed reports on each individual 
team member. To say the least, my background was far from scientific 
and if asked to report intensely on such matters then my notes would 
probably have made no more sense than the gurglings of a child. 

Maybe I was just disorientated and the change in environment had
affected my judgment slightly. For the time being though, it seemed I 
had to try and put the fact that a man was missing to the back of my 
mind and get on with the job in hand. 

Now, as I walked the pristine corridors of the central complex of this
huge glass and metal structure from the compact room allocated to me 
for the length of my stay, I headed towards the Medical Bay. I had 
finally managed to get Dr. Arndensen to make time to see me. 

I looked out of the windows that ran along the walkway. There wasn’t
really much to see. This sterile looking central complex filled only a 
small area in the middle of Biosphere 4. Apart from two other small 
buildings positioned one at either end of the cylinder the rest of this 
magnificent wonder of mankind was like a dense forest that provided the 
vital ingredients for the whole project. The artificial lights on the 
roof of Biosphere 4 gave a strange natural daylight effect. They were 
turned on at 7 a.m. precisely and turned off at 8p.m. precisely. This 
being so that the crews body clock would not be disrupted and sent into 
a constant state of disorientation (somewhat the same as jet lag). The 
only problem was that I found the change from daylight to sudden 
pitch-blackness gave me a rather disquieting feeling quite impossible 
to overcome. With all the top scientists of the world that the UK & US 
could buy I thought that at least one of them could have designed a 
dimmer switch! 

Wondering if I’d be able to live on a place like this permanently, the
only answer that I could come up with was a resounding no. But what 
with the Earth’s over population and rapidly dwindling resources (it 
had been measured that during the course of the past twenty years 20% 
of the population was using 90% of these resources), this apparently 
was the future whether we liked it or not. 

It wasn’t long before I reached the medilab and through the glass double
doors of the entrance I could see Dr. Arndensen. With his back to me, 
sat over his desk while engrossed in a large book, his hunched frame 
was more reminiscent of some horribly disfigured monster from the 
cinema screen than that of an academic. His white lab coat trailed 
almost to the floor as his seat had no back and the shiny top of his 
head was clearly visible through his thinning grey hair. 

Around him were numerous piles of files and papers untidily cluttering
his workspace. To his right was another desk, on which sat Andersen’s 
laptop computer. The shelves around and along the walls carried all 
manor of things ranging from white rats in cages to jars of preserved 
specimens, the contents of which I wouldn’t even dare to try putting 
names to. 

I paused before knocking, not sure what sort of reception I was to
receive today from someone who’d put off this meeting five times 
already. 

Dr. Arndensen was not an amicable man to put it mildly and I knew that
his answers to my simple and routine questions would be short and to 
the point. Every time I saw him his face seemed to hold a constant 
_expression of irritation and knowing that he was a Doctor of Medicine 
I felt myself quite lucky that I had not been one of his patients in 
the thirty years that he’d been practising. It did cross my mind to 
wonder if he’d ever been accused of malpractice or neglect. All 
speculations aside, if he hadn’t then I was pretty sure in my mind that 
he’d actually done it. Apparently, along with the other nine on board, 
Arndensen was the best in his field and hence the reason he was here. 
Personally I had my doubts about whether his reasons for being here 
were for the future advancement of the human race or just simply that 
he had nothing better to do at this point in his life. As far as 
humanity went, Arndensen possessed very little. 

Understanding that he was a busy man and although I appreciated how
important his work was, as he had so many times told me, Arndensen 
couldn’t seem to understand that if my reports weren’t complete upon my 
return to Earth then there would be no further studies or projects for 
him to be busy with. I had come to the hypothesis, in my short stay 
with them, that scientists in general were the most selfish, childish 
and devious species in the animal kingdom. And I knew that future 
encounters would reconfirm this finding a hundredfold. 

Finally I knocked. 

Showing consideration and some manners, I tried not to knock too loudly.
After the amount of effort I’d already exerted just to arrange this 
short meeting the last thing I wanted to do was to startle Arndensen 
while he was writing away in his book and put him at odds with me 
before we’d even begun. 

In response to my knock he didn’t turn. Looking down at my wristwatch I
waited ten seconds and then knocked again, this time a little louder. I 
waited but still he didn’t move in his chair. As I raised my hand to 
knock for the third time he spun around before my knuckles had another 
chance to make contact with the glass. 

Arndensen’s dark eyes stared through the glass doors and beyond me. Then
without any further acknowledgement of my presence he reached out a 
hand and pressed a button on a small control panel to his right that 
opened the sliding doors with a hiss of released air pressure. Had he 
heard me the first time and was just making me wait? It didn’t really 
matter. I was here and I had work to do. I would set aside all 
grievances and concentrate on my report. 

Hesitantly and with the air of a child about to be scolded I entered. 

The medilab was quite spacious. As I’d already mentioned, the
wall-shelves were overfull with equipment, work in progress and a 
variety of other associated materials. There was also that usual 
pervading atmosphere of sterility that seemed to linger around the 
whole of the complex. It seemed to deliver an unwelcome feeling to 
anyone unused to its coldness and after two weeks I still felt that 
unfriendly chill. 

Between Dr. Arndensens desk and myself were two empty lab beds draped
with standard issue green covers. Beside each on a metal trolley sat 
dormant oscilloscopes. In the corner was the door to, as I'd been 
informed, the freezer, where a number of cryogenic experiments were 
ongoing at controlled temperatures. Strangely enough I'd been told that 
a report on such experiments was not required of myself. Although my 
curiosity wanted to ask why, I was well aware that it would be wiser if 
I didn’t bring up the matter with Arndensen himself. I’d drawn a blank 
on the subject with my employers and I couldn’t imagine that the good 
Doctor would be any more accommodating given his record to date. 

"Good morning Dr. Arndensen, I hope I'm not disturbing you", I decided
to go forward confident and draw first blood. 

Arndensen frowned as he turned and gave a deep sigh before answering in
his deep monotone voice. "As a matter of fact Mr. Hoyle you are." 

At least he'd remembered my name. 

"Please, call me James." I tried to lighten the atmosphere slightly but
it seemed it would take a lot more than simply asking Arndensen to 
address me by my first name to accomplish that. 

"Whatever." Arndensen turned back to his book and carried on scribbling
his notes. Was he just finishing off what he’d been writing before we 
started I wondered, or was he just being his usual rude self? 

"Dr. Arndensen, I know how busy you are so this shouldn’t take too long
and then I'll leave you in peace to carry on with your work." I tried 
to stay as calm as I could but these people were driving me to madness 
with their insolence. 

"Whatever." Arndensen seemed to be stuck on a repeat program as he sat
there, his back to me still and not giving any inclination as to when 
he was going to turn around. 

Stay calm James; just stay calm, I told myself. I’d never hit an old man
and I wasn’t about to start now. Inside, my blood was beginning to boil 
and I could feel myself tensing up with frustration, getting closer and 
closer to breaking point. I had originally thought over the past two 
weeks that it was actually me being impatient, but I’d organised a good 
schedule before I’d arrived. I’d taken in to consideration their busy 
work routines and daily timetables so as not to disturb the project in 
any way whatsoever, but still my schedule had been rearranged no end of 
times and I was feeling the pressure. 

Taking a deep breath I placed my file down on the desk next to
Arndensens book. He stopped writing and looked inquisitively at me as 
he slowly and deliberately turned his head. He had a look in his eyes 
that said a good many things, none of which held any interest to me at 
this present time. The only thing on my mind was to get my questions 
answered and get out. 

"Dr. Arndensen?" I asked. "May we?" I didn’t wait for him to answer but
just pulled up the nearest chair and sat myself down. 

* 

After half an hour and my stoic acceptance of Arndensens demeanour I
left the medilab feeling somewhat relieved. It was a shorter meeting 
than I had originally intended but I felt myself lucky to have gotten 
as far as I had. Also, knowing that with the answers from Arndensen 
with regards to his work here on subjects such as how certain organisms 
and bacteria reacted on Biosphere 4 compared to on Earth, I’d soon be 
able to span it out into a full length report without having to endure 
any more sessions with the him. Blagging was a skill that had served me 
well over the years and I wasn’t about to change my style now. 

Back in my room I poured a drink. It was still only ten in the morning
(going by the Biosphere 4 mean time clock) but before attempting to 
begin my report on Dr. Arndensen I needed that extra lift that a stiff 
vodka and tonic could supply in times of hardship. It was strange how 
in the list of necessities that I’d submitted to the department before 
leaving Earth that they hadn’t queried three bottles of Smirnoff and 
one Jim Beam, which I’d only added as a joke. I actually hated whiskey 
but found at times that it did come in handy. 

Sitting at the small metal desk, which pulled conveniently down from the
wall, I put my drink to one side for the time being and began typing 
into my laptop. I typed data on how amino acids were effected under 
zero gravity and the effects of micro gravity on embryos (two of Dr. 
Arndensens projects along with disorientation in the space environment 
on single cell organisms, ability of spiders to adapt to zero gravity, 
insect flight motion and effects of weightlessness on development of 
eggs, along with research into decalcification of bones and muscles, 
amongst numerous other experiments connected with medicine and 
biology). Pretty mundane stuff as far as I was concerned (in fact 
similar experiments had apparently already been conducted in the past 
on Apollo and Shuttle missions in the last century) but it was 
paperwork that had to be done whether I liked it or not. As Dr. 
Arndensen had told me during our brief discussion, nothing out of the 
ordinary had occurred at this point so what was the point of 
documenting it. That was one thing that we did both see eye to eye on, 
but never the less, documenting nothing was exactly what I did. 

I was under strict instructions with regards the information I had to
return with. The project had been assigned a number of experiments and 
it was my task to let everybody involved back home know how they were 
progressing in their endeavours (although everybody on board had to 
submit a weekly report I was basically here to make sure that the 
weekly reports were true). If outside investment was on the table then 
the investors wanted solid independent clarification of what Biosphere 
4 was achieving. 

It wasn’t too long before I’d finished and I could finally scratch
Arndensen from my schedule along with the other three that I’d managed 
to speak to during the past fourteen days. Humphrey Knewbert (Doctor of 
Physics) a scrawny little man with ill-fitting clothes and a look that 
lead you to feel a sense of pity whenever you saw him. Saying that 
though, he was the friendliest of the lot and so I had actually taken 
quite a liking to the guy. Then there was Andrea Burton (Doctor of 
Psychiatry), a women so far up the rear end of political correctness it 
was almost obscene. Thirdly, Jonathan Crutzen (Doctor of Chemistry and 
a distant relative to the Paul Crutzen who along with Mario Molina and 
F.Sherwood took the Nobel Prize for Chemistry in 1995 after discovering 
the dangers of ozone depleting gases). He was a strange fellow whom I 
hadn’t been able to weigh up at this point. Very sure of himself but 
not having that vulgar and obnoxious sort of manner that most confident 
people seemed to possess. 

That still left another six crewmembers that I needed to sit down with
for an hour or so before I was finished here and the prospect of 
getting to speak with one in particular was looking very difficult 
indeed. 

Where the hell was Jeppeson? 

Chapter 2 

I decided to have another chat with Humphrey Knewbert. I needed some
answers to find out what was going on in this place. Humphrey would be 
the likeliest candidate if any to submit to the slightest pressure and 
start talking. Plus, apart from Jeppeson going AWOL, there were one or 
two other niggling problems on my mind that I wanted to clear up. Like 
why was I not allowed out of the central complex (not that I had any 
great desire to, but that wasn’t the point)? Why was everyone acting as 
if they had something to hide and why had the clock on the wall of my 
room been fitted with a minute camera and bugging device (of course I’d 
left it all in tact so as not to raise any unwanted attention)? 

Closing up my laptop and folding the desk back up against the wall, I
left my room for the second time of the day pulling the door shut 
behind me as I went. Strangely enough my room seemed to be the only one 
without a locking system, which was most unusual taking into 
consideration the hi-tech devices fitted to every other door in the 
complex. Yet another quandary to add to my ever-increasing list. 

Outside, the daily shower of rain that had collected on the ceiling of
the complex was steadily falling. It usually lasted for about twenty 
minutes. I stopped for a moment to watch the drops race down the 
windowpane and collect on the aluminium frame along the bottom. The 
pitter-patter sound was almost hypnotic and for a second I was lost far 
away from here. The rain brought back memories, memories that I’d tried 
to eradicate from my mind. But no matter how hard I’d tried laying them 
to rest it seemed to be impossibility. I’d wrongly presumed that with 
this job that I’d be too preoccupied to think about anything else, 
unfortunately it didn’t look to be working. Funny isn’t it how the 
simplest of things have the biggest effect. 

"James", a nervous voice from behind quickly brought me back to the
present and I turned to find Humphrey Knewbert walking towards me in 
his familiar dishevelled manner. 

He was carrying a file of papers that presently fell from under his arm
and scattered across the floor. I strolled over to where he crouched 
and helped him put the dog-eared sheets back into the thin card file 
that he’d been carrying. It seemed that Knewbert's mannerisms had also 
spread to his work. Every book in his room had torn or bent covers and 
pages and his papers and equipment were all over the place or covered 
with coffee stains. How he managed to get his reports finished and in 
on time was totally beyond me. 

As I knelt down I was then hit surprisingly by the strong smell of beer
emanating from Knewberts breath. 

"Isn't it a little early in the day for you Humphrey?” I suppose I was
being somewhat hypocritical bearing in mind that I'd already had a 
drink myself that morning. 

He looked at me for a second and pushed his glasses back up to the top
of his nose before answering. "All for science James, all for science", 
we finished picking up the papers and got to our feet, "I've just spent 
the last two hours working on and documenting the properties of 
alcoholic drinks in zero gravity." 

I gave him an unconvinced look and he began to explain. 

“As I'm sure that you're aware James, one of the more generous sponsors
of Biosphere 4 is also one of the largest brewing corporations on 
Earth. And what with tourist trips to the Moon now being planned to go 
ahead within the next five years, then of course they want to be the 
ones opening the first extra-terrestrial bar. Lets face it; people are 
always going to drink. If they're happy they drink, if they're sad they 
drink. Agreed?" 

I gave the nod of agreement that he was waiting for. He scratched the
lobe of his right ear with his free hand. Due to his nervous demeanour 
Knewbert sometimes suffered with a stutter but when talking about his 
work he was quite an excitable and eccentric man. 

“Well, in the future as well as tourist trips to the moon there's also
going to be quite a lot of long haul missions in space which are going 
to have to be conducted in zero gravity conditions. And unfortunately 
or not the majority of human life finds that it can't survive without 
alcohol in the old blood stream for too long.” 

I began to feel bad at being one of the people that Knewbert had just
described. He carried on, “Plus if there are going to be future bars in 
space then brewers would like to explore the brewing process itself out 
here so that they don’t have to transport their stock. 

“What I've been doing this morning in the gravity chamber is basically
finding out how the alcoholic properties of certain drinks change under 
specific conditions. For example under zero gravity because the bubbles 
stay inside the beer the carbon dioxide helps swill it around the taste 
buds and lifts the volatile scents and flavours to the back of the 
throat, which then enhances the whole taste experience." 

"Any down sides?" I asked. I knew that Knewbert was very passionate
about any side of his work and it would do me well to sound interested. 


"Well I suppose there is the risk that the bubbles can balloon inside
the stomach if the external pressure changes," he rubbed his chin with 
his free hand whilst the other held tightly to the papers we'd just 
picked up, "and its not easy belching in zero gravity." 

I laughed and Knewbert grinned. The line was meant to be comical but
poor old Humphrey just wasn't any good at delivery; and then with my 
hand firmly on his right shoulder whilst I walked on his left I turned 
away from the direction of my room and began to walk along the 
corridor. I had no intention of grilling the guy in front of the 
cameras. 

"Coincidentally,” I said quite innocently, “I was actually just coming
to see you Humphrey", my words causing that ill at ease frown to make 
an unscheduled reappearance across Knewberts face. 

* 

My chat with Knewbert revealed little more than I had expected or
already knew. It simply enhanced my fears that something not strictly 
above board was transpiring on Biosphere 4. His answers were almost 
scripted, and strangely, as we talked he kept glancing around as if he 
were speaking to other people in his room beside myself. Were Knewberts 
quarters bugged in a similar fashion to my own? Was it because they 
feared him to be the weakest link should I start probing too far into 
subject matter that was of no concern to me? And who were ‘they’? The 
rest of the crew or the people that I was contracted to? Or was it 
simply that Knewbert was basically a nervous kind of guy under pressure 
or not and this was purely a matter of my paranoia tripping into 
overload? Either way my investigations had drawn a blank and I was no 
further towards finding any conclusive answers. 

It was nearly lunchtime when I returned to the sterility of my
uninviting room. I wasn’t hungry so I decided to relax for a while. 
Although, being able to feel relaxed with a camera pointing straight at 
you was easier said than done. 

My next appointment wasn’t until later in the afternoon so I had decided
to kill a couple of hours with a book. I wasn’t really a fan of any of 
the new genre of writers that had emerged over the last ten years, 
hence the book that I’d brought along for the ride. 

'The Wind Up Bird Chronicles' by Haruki Murakami had been written back
in the nineteen nineties. I’d read all of Murakamis translated works 
and had even managed to meet him about ten years ago at a literary 
convention in Tokyo. It may seem strange that a person such as myself 
had been to an international literary convention but writing was one of 
my main pastimes and I’d visited Tokyo after having a short novel 
published in my early twenties. So using my nominal royalties cheque I 
endeavoured to make myself known and find some contacts at the afore 
mentioned meeting of critics, publishers and 'name' authors. 
Unfortunately my writing career didn’t really take off in the manner 
that I’d planned and the only positive aspect of the trip was being 
able to meet my aging hero Murakami and have a brief conversation over 
a glass of Cutty Sark Whiskey (a brand that most of Murikami’s 
fictional main characters seemed to opt upon and like I said earlier I 
don’t really like whiskey but it sometimes comes in handy) about the 
misconceptions of fame (it turned out to be an interesting conversation 
in that Murakami had always shunned the limelight and here I was trying 
to throw myself right into the thick of it). 

All that aside and back to the present, I polished off a good twenty odd
pages of the book before deciding to head down to the canteen for a 
snack. I still wasn’t really that hungry but knew that if I didn’t eat 
at least a sandwich or something now then halfway through the 
afternoons schedule I’d suddenly be overcome with a ravenous desire for 
food. 

The canteen wasn’t really an appropriate name for the room where the
team gathered to get their daily fill, being that it was little more 
than a large kitchen rarely visited by anymore than two people at a 
given time helping themselves to whatever happened to be nearest at 
hand. Fixing myself a bacon sandwich using synthetic bacon, which 
incidentally was manufactured here on Biosphere 4, and a soya bread 
bun, I had to admit that with all of mankind’s achievements he had 
still yet to come up with any form of food substitute that matched the 
original. 

As I chewed away unenthusiastically at my sandwich I took out the small
metallic electronic scheduler from my trouser pocket and scanning 
through the daily diary planner saw that Dr. Jonathan Russmire was to 
be my 1.00 p.m. appointment. 

Russmire was Biosphere 4’s resident vegetation specialist and quite a
remarkable one at that. He was so into his work that it seemed almost 
as if he and the plants lived a strange sort of symbiotic relationship 
together. 

His main task was to make daily detailed reports of how the flora of the
project was performing. As this was what was generally keeping us all 
alive his reports had to be submitted back to Earth every twenty four 
hours as opposed to everyone else having to check in on a weekly basis. 
Taking his role into account he was probably the one on board under the 
most pressure and quite often it really showed. His general appearance 
was that of a haggard looking individual who had grown old before his 
time. I think he was actually about forty although his exact age 
escaped me. I’d read reports on each member of the team before coming 
to Biosphere 4 but had managed to memorise very little of the content. 
Russmire’s skin had a tint of grey due to the 50 a day cigarette habit 
that he was unable to shake off, and he had previously joked that he 
intended to start growing tobacco here on Biosphere 4 so that he didn’t 
have to use up almost half of his monthly supply request with nicotine. 
His temperament was quite unstable, which I put down to stress of the 
job, and on a couple of occasions I’d rearranged meetings after a tip 
off from Knewbert that Russmire was in no mood for talking. 

Luckily, even though he looked like he was totally incapable of doing
anything apart from coughing up tar and running short of breath, 
Russmire was in full control and knew exactly which species of plants 
and trees on Biosphere 4 were performing to their optimum and which 
ones would have to be replaced for another. I’d already read through 
his recent reports to familiarise myself with his work and noticed his 
eye for detail in every aspect. Every minute deficiency in the 
vegetation was registered and every minuscule change in growth patterns 
were documented with precision. For all his flaws I felt safe knowing 
that Russmire was in charge of keeping us all alive. 

Leaving the canteen I threw the half eaten bacon sandwich into the
recycler by the door and headed over to Russmire’s quarters. As he 
spent most of the day outside of the complex, working amongst the 
greenery, I knew that if I were to be late then he wouldn't be too 
complimentary. He’d been very clear that he could give me an hour of 
his time this afternoon and no more. The time had been specifically set 
and there was no rearranging again. Russmire was the kind of person who 
liked to use his time effectively and I was worried that if I was even 
a minute late then I’d arrive to find his working quarters empty and 
securely locked. 

As I walked to my meeting with Russmire I wondered about the prospect of
trying to slip in a couple of questions about Jeppeson. Maybe he could 
shed a little light upon the disappearance of his illusive fellow 
crewmember but I didn’t hold up much hope. 

Leaving the connecting corridor, having gone through the laboratory area
reception and the routine set of security checks that were in place, 
into Russmire's section of the laboratory area of Biosphere 4 I saw him 
then, through the glass double doors that all the laboratories in the 
complex possessed, stubbing out a well smoked cigarette as he stood at 
his desk anxiously glancing at his wristwatch. 

Chapter 3 

"Entomology is one of my main interests nowadays", said Russmire in his
rough and gravely tone as he dragged the last remnants of nicotine from 
his second cigarette in twenty minutes, “I suppose that it’s my 
interest of plants that has inevitably led me into this area of the 
animal kingdom." 

Russmire had been far more open with himself than I had anticipated.
This sudden change of attitude had taken me completely unawares and I 
wasn't sure if he was being genuinely friendly or not. Maybe it was 
just a show to distract from touching on to other more sensitive 
matters. Matters such as Jeppeson. 

Up to now Russmire had done virtually all the talking. I’d entered his
chambers; taken the seat he’d offered and declined a cigarette. He’d 
very politely stressed how important it was that we get finished as 
quickly as possible as he was behind on his monthly flora analysis and 
then we’d begun. 

It seemed now as if I was in the presence of a completely different
person. This was the Russmire who generally worked all hours that God 
sent with little time for idle chit chat now giving me an in depth 
account of his hobbies and interests. Twenty minutes had passed and I 
hadn’t managed to collect a single scrap of information with regards to 
my report that I had to submit upon return to Earth. I had to take 
control of the situation. 

"So, now that six months have passed do you feel that the flora is
stable?" I switched on the micro recorder that I used at all 
interviews, as a backup to my filed reports in case of any later 
discrepancies. 

Russmire crossed his legs and lit up his third cigarette before
answering the question. 

“I think that we are now ready to introduce new factors into the
equation." 

I wasn’t sure what exactly he meant by that. Russmire seemed to read my
mind. 

"If you take a look around outside." 

"I'm not allowed outside." I interrupted. 

"Well. If you had been outside, then you’d see for yourself that on the
surface the environment seems in all ways a perfect garden full of 
trees and plants of all varieties. There’s even a small lake out there. 


“Then,” he paused to tap off ash from his cigarette in to the ashtray,
“if you stop for a second, you soon realise that something is missing. 
Do you know what that something is?" Russmire leaned forward towards 
me, his nicotine breath infiltrating the air around me. 

I shook my head. 

"Sound". Russmire leaned back to his original position and crossed his
arms triumphantly. His cigarette held firmly in his crooked smile. 

"And what do you propose?" I asked. 

"Animals. Nothing extravagant. Just a few birds and possibly even a few
varieties of insects to start with. Maybe some fish too. These living 
organisms are on Earth for a reason so there's no reason, now that the 
flora is stable, that they shouldn’t be here as well. I’d like you to 
put that in your report." Russmire pointed at the recorder as he spoke. 


I nodded in agreement as I readied myself for the killer question. 

"By the way," I needed this to sound like I'd just casually thrown it
into passing conversation, "I don't suppose you've seen anything of 
Jeppeson?" 

Russmire’s brow tightened and he sucked long and hard at his cigarette.
The grey tint of his nicotine-tainted cheeks seemed to darken slightly. 
“Don’t you worry about Jeppeson; he does this from time to time. He’s 
got his work to do the same as the rest of us, he just likes to do it 
in his own way." 

"You mean in hiding." I hadn't intended the comment to sound so
sarcastic but it did. I could tell that Russmire wanted to change the 
subject but I declined the telepathic request. 

"I haven't seen Jeppeson for three days.” I continued. “Don’t you think
that’s a little odd?" 

“As I said, that’s the way he works.” Russmire’s answer was final. It
was an answer that told me to close the subject or get out. 

The silence of the room was ice cold and the relaxed atmosphere that had
pervaded only minutes earlier was gone. Russmire stared through the 
cigarette smoke that shrouded his face. If he was trying to tell me 
that the disappearance of Jeppeson was quite ordinary then he was 
definitely going about it the wrong way. 

"Fine. Now what were we talking about?" Under the circumstances there
was little else I could think of saying to get the ball rolling again. 

The next forty minutes seemed like forty hours. It was impossible to get
Russmire talking as he had been earlier and his answers from then on 
became mechanical and minimal. Maybe I should have waited until the end 
of the meeting, I thought, to bring up the subject of Jeppeson. One 
thing that it did confirm, by Russmires attitude, was that there was 
something not altogether right about the disappearance of the man in 
question. Both Russmire and Knewbert had suddenly gone on the defensive 
at the first mention of Jeppeson’s name. 

Lawrence Jeppeson had been the first member of the project that I’d met
upon my arrival to Biosphere 4 two weeks ago. It had been a long 
journey from Earth and although space travel had moved on in leaps and 
bounds in the last twenty years there was still a long way to go before 
passenger comfort was prioritised. 

As I’d left the transporter that had brought me here and walked out into
the warehouse-like docking bay of Biosphere 4 Jeppeson had been there 
to greet me with a handshake and a warm smile. From there we’d 
travelled together in a small five man sized glass and aluminium 
shuttle than traversed a magnetic monorail system to the central 
complex. 

He’d seemed quite a pleasant person and had taken the time to explain
his position to me. His main responsibility was the actual structure of 
Biosphere 4. His background was in Structural Engineering and Design 
and in his time he had played an integral part in the construction of 
many a renowned project back on Earth. 

When we’d completed the five-minute journey from the docking bay to the
central complex Jeppeson had then given me a guided tour and introduced 
everyone to me before finally showing me to my room. Having a brief 
chat with Jeppeson as we walked around the central complex on that 
first day, although I thought his demeanour pleasant and helpful, there 
was still something stand offish about his nature that made me feel 
uncomfortable. Put it down to gut instinct or whatever you wish, but it 
just seemed too false. As I thought back now, I just wondered if there 
was something that he was trying to hide even from that very first day. 


Back in my room I typed my report on Russmire. It didn’t exactly make
for interesting reading and it wouldn’t tell the directors of Biosphere 
4 Plc anything that they weren’t already aware of, but it was done and 
that was all that mattered. 

Closing the laptop computer and shoving it to one side I leaned back in
my chair and stretched my arms above my head as far as I could without 
pulling a muscle. My shoulders were stiff and in dire need of a 
massage. It hadn’t necessarily been a long day, just testing. I was a 
tetchy person at the best of times and this job wasn’t helping my 
search for Zen harmony in the slightest. Not that I’d know what Zen 
harmony felt like if it walked up, said ‘how do you do’ and slapped me 
in the face. 

Bringing my arms back down and letting out a sigh I tapped my hands
momentarily and for no reason on the desk before standing up. I then 
turned and moved over to the small rectangular window that looked out 
in to the greenery beyond. 

The artificial shower that had fallen earlier in the afternoon had now
abated but the freshness that permeates the atmosphere after rainfall 
back on Earth was not present here. I opened the window slightly; I 
wasn’t actually sure whether I was permitted to do so but what the 
hell. I listened. Russmire was right, the place needed sound. The only 
noise was the barely audible hum of the generators. Strange though how 
with nothing else to hear, the silence was chilling, as if all life had 
died when in fact it had only just begun. 

Movement ahead then interrupted my thoughts. Squinting to see through
the thickness of the trees and the full and loping branches I could see 
two figures, probably a good thirty feet or so away. Both were stood 
with their backs to me so I couldn’t see straight away whom they were 
but if I had to guess then it looked to me like Russmire and Crutzen. 
When you only have six people to choose from it doesn’t make for too 
much of a difficult task. 

Even though it was quiet, due to the distance they were from my window
it was impossible to hear what they were talking about though it was 
evident by the hand and arm movements that an in-depth discussion was 
underway. I watched for a few minutes, confirmed my guessed identities 
and then the two men went their separate ways, Russmire in to the 
greenery probably to carry out inspections and the like, and Crutzen 
back to the compound. Neither looked in my direction as they went about 
their business and I was glad. The last thing I wanted was to make 
myself even more unwelcome by being caught trying to snoop on 
conversations. 

Sitting back down on the end of my bed I speculated on what the two men
had been talking about. I took my schedule organiser from my trouser 
pocket and tapped in today’s date. There it was, coincidence or not the 
alarm bells were ringing. I had an appointment scheduled for later this 
evening with Jonathon Crutzen. Was it significant then that the last 
person I’ d interviewed and pumped for information on Jeppeson was 
liasing with the next to be in the firing line. Maybe, maybe not. 

God, how I wished Lawrence Jeppeson would just show his face then all my
fears and unfounded accusations would disappear and I could finish my 
work knowing that these people were just nothing more than 
ill-mannered, impatient and unbearable specimens of the human race. 

Resigned to the fact that there was nothing I could do to confirm or
dissipate my thoughts regards everything that had and was happening on 
Biosphere 4 I uncapped my bottle of vodka and with a forlorn sigh 
poured a large one. 

Chapter 4 

The afternoon passed with no significant occurrence to speak of and I
busied myself by trying to expand on the reports that I’d already 
compiled, chain drinking water at the same time to make sure that the 
two glasses of vodka I’d consumed would have no adverse effects, what 
with an interview looming with Crutzen. 

Looking at my watch I noticed there was just about time to have a quick
freshen up before leaving to meet Crutzen. A narrow door in the corner 
of the room lead to my washroom. If at all possible then the washroom 
was even smaller a room than my main living quarters and barely big 
enough to accommodate the shower, sink and lavatory that were its 
furnishings. Luckily being of slight build and average height I was 
able to squeeze in though actually taking care of ablutions was another 
matter entirely. Knowing also that on Biosphere 4 all water resources 
were recycled I never really relished the idea of washing or brushing 
my teeth, which made for making the whole activity much more of an 
unamiable task. 

After finishing in the washroom I squeezed back into the other room and
took a clean shirt from the drawer. Living in unnatural surroundings 
sometimes makes ones hormones behave erratically and probably because 
of this, and maybe also because of the reactions I was drawing from the 
rest of the crew with my being here, I had been sweating profusely 
since my arrival on Biosphere 4. 

Finally ready I left my room in search of Dr. Jonathon Crutzen in a
positive state of mind but cautiously wondering whether it would be 
wise to bring up the subject of Jeppeson. It would be my second 
official meeting with Crutzen and, as I’ve already stated, I found him 
a difficult man to read but far easier a person to deal with than 
Arndensen. At least one thing was for sure, after my experience with 
Russmire earlier then I certainly wouldn’t broach the topic of the 
missing crewmember so early on in the meeting. 

My journey to Crutzen’s lab was pretty much the same route as the one
I’d taken to both Russmire and Arndensen. The main central complex of 
Biosphere 4 was somewhat like a giant bicycle wheel in design. An outer 
ring housed the living quarters of all the colonists (rooms to 
accommodate up to 50 people in all once the facility would be in full 
operation), in the centre of the compound was where all the 
laboratories were situated, one next to each other. At present there 
were still five empty labs for future use. From the laboratory area ran 
straight corridors out to the living quarters. It had been done this 
way so that if more rooms were needed in the future then it would be a 
simple case of just building extra rings between the outer ring and the 
central laboratory area. 

Of the corridors that ran between the outer ring and the centre all
where identical bar one, named the central corridor for simplicities 
sake. This central corridor was wider than the others and its purpose 
was as an emergency shelter for the crew should anything go 
disastrously wrong with the mission. The walls of the central corridor 
were massively reinforced and also had a supply of oxygen from tanks 
that could be turned on to give a lifeline for up to 240 hours. If the 
crew had any kind of life threatening emergency situation then they 
could congregate in the central corridor, seal the hatches at both 
ends, turn on the oxygen supply if required and then send a message 
back to Earth to request a rescue shuttle to pick them up. There had 
been plans to build an ejector mechanism into the central corridor 
should Biosphere 4 itself be in danger of destruction for any reason 
but financial restraints had put a hold on that particular idea for the 
time being. 

As I now traversed the central corridor my mind went back to seeing
Crutzen and Russmire earlier in the afternoon talking energetically 
together outside the compound. Maybe if I could’ve overheard their 
conversation then I would’ve been better placed mentally for this 
upcoming appointment. As I thought about this quandary I was then 
distracted by a click and whirring noise, looking up I noticed the 
cameras that were angling to follow my every move as I walked about 
Biosphere 4. A strange thought struck me, Jeppeson was the man who’s 
responsibility it was to monitor the screens periodically every day 
that displayed the images from all the cameras as well as to check that 
all pulse response wristbands were constantly performing. So, if 
Jeppeson wasn’t around then who was doing it now, if anyone actually 
was? If I could just get into Jeppesons workshop, as that was a more 
appropriate name for it than laboratory bearing in mind his duties on 
Biosphere 4, then I could check the pulse monitors and camera screens. 
Maybe then a few of my questions would be answered. Unfortunately that 
would have to wait for now though as I neared the entrance to the 
laboratory area. 

Putting my open palm up to the sensor pad by the large metal pressurised
door, which would read my DNA for entry authorization, I cleared my 
mind as best I could and thought about the questions that I would put 
to Crutzen so as to be able to piece together a full and finished 
report to return back to Earth with on the pharmaceutical projects that 
the doctor had been working on. The monotone computer automated voice 
said, ‘James Hoyle, limited access authorized’ and with a hiss of 
released air pressure the door swished aside in a smooth and rapid 
motion to reveal the white walled reception area of the laboratory 
central area that I had already visited many times in the past 14 days. 


The laboratory reception was a perfectly round room about 50 feet in
diameter. Around the circular wall, equidistant apart, were doors, each 
labelled with a name indicating whose laboratory lay beyond. Having 
been here a good many times before I didn’t have to search the 
nameplates for Crutzens. Again I put my hand up to the security panel 
and again came the computer-animated voice telling me that I was 
cleared for limited access to the complex. Although I was allowed 
beyond the reception room my authorization did not extend to the 
laboratories themselves. The door opened with the usual real of air 
pressure and I stepped forward in to the short two berth wide corridor 
that connected the laboratories to the central reception room. Ahead of 
me now were the same glass double doors that bade the entrance to all 
the laboratories and without hesitation I announced my arrival with a 
loud knock on the door. After only a second the doors swished aside and 
Crutzen was marching across the lab towards me. 

“Good afternoon Mr. Hoyle,” said Jonathon Crutzen quite welcomingly,
“you know you don’t have to knock, there’s a button and vid-link by the 
door.” He momentarily stepped out of the lab and pointed to a small 
panel just to the right of the entrance. 

“Old habits die hard.” I replied. 

Crutzen laughed, quite falsely but at least he was making an effort to
be pleasant I thought, very much in the same vein as Russmire earlier 
in the day strangely enough. Crutzen was a man of great reputation in 
his field, hence his being here. Apparently more than one sponsor had 
insisted on his involvement in the project. Middle-aged, he had come a 
long way in the past twenty years and the tired lines under his eyes 
showed that he worked long and hard hours. His role on Biosphere 4 was 
the testing of pharmaceutical products that had already been in the 
early stages of process back on Earth that for reasons beyond my 
comprehension could not be completed. In fact I’d asked Crutzen if he 
could give me a copy of his own notes so that I could spend a quiet few 
hours alone in my room to study them at a pace more feasible to my 
understanding of the subject matter. To simply listen to Crutzen waffle 
on at great speed and in phenomenal detail about his findings and 
projects would have left me with a very confused state of mind in which 
to put forward his achievements at the prospective sponsors 
presentation that this was all in aid of. 

“Please, take a seat.” Said Crutzen pulling up two swivel chairs. 

I nodded and said thank you before sitting down, putting my bag on the
desk that was situated beside the two chairs and then taking out my 
laptop and audio-recorder I placed them both on the spacious desk. 

“Oh, before I forget,” said Crutzen as he stood and reached into the
pocket of his white lab-coat, “here’s the information you asked for.” 

From his pocket he took out and passed me a small disk. 

“It’ll give you a full rundown of everything that I’ve been doing here
in the past six months, although I doubt you’ll have time to read it 
properly.” 

“Really?” I replied, quite shocked at his unrestrained helpfulness. 

“Yes, so I categorised the information in to separate files to make it a
bit more ledgeable and easier to pinpoint what you exactly require.” 

“Uh uh,” was all I could say. I’m sure that my facial expressions were
quite easy to read and I wondered if Crutzen was pleased or not with 
the reactions he was receiving. 

“So,” said Crutzen eager to get the meeting underway, “shall we begin?” 


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