‘Please, come in, Miss…’ the professor began.
‘Daskalova. Irina Daskalova.’
‘And where are you from?’
‘From the Danube Confederation… I’m Bulgarian.’
‘Very well, Miss Daskalova.’ He gestured toward the chair opposite his desk, waiting until she sat before settling into his own leather seat. ‘Let me explain how the exam will proceed and what is expected of you. As you know, the University of Perpetual Mobilism in Lagos is perhaps the most prestigious educational institution in the world. We have many applicants from all over the globe. Our process is simple: tell us, in your opinion, what significance this discipline holds for society, giving an overview of the most important related events in its history as you see them. And last but not least, share where your own desire to study and work in perpetual mobilism comes from.’
The young woman looked understandably nervous, her hands clasped in her lap. She took a breath, looked at the professor, and began her exposition:
‘It all begins in 1897, in Leipzig, then part of the German Empire, where Professor Otto Wegener and his assistant, Yosif Karagiozov, were studying cathode rays. During their experiments, they observed bursts of energy at times they would not expect them. Karagiozov documented this in detail, but at the time their work was not peer-reviewed and quickly fell into obscurity.
‘Almost ten years later, the renowned Alberta Einstein published her purely theoretical calculations in On the Dynamics of Collapse, where she postulated a potential energy that could be released at the moment of measurement of a quantum event. The connection with the phenomenon described by Karagiozov was made some time later, in British India. There, in the early 1920s, the first “perpetuum mobile” was constructed, which…’
‘All right, Miss Daskalova, I understand,’ Abeni interrupted; he had noticed that every time she mentioned Karagiozov’s name, her expression shifted ever so slightly. ‘You have knowledge of the history of physics. But let us look at the larger picture. How did this seemingly inexhaustible energy affect society in the past century?’
‘Yes, well…’ Irina continued, flustered. ‘The British Empire saw the potential of the discovery to expand its influence and directed considerable resources toward research. Its colonies and protectorates benefited the most—India, Nigeria…’
She gestured toward the nearby open window, where the Lagos day was at its height and the sun turned one of the skyscrapers—its roof overgrown with lush vegetation—into a dazzling spear of white-green light. Personal flyers darted in the distance like bees around a hive. In the university courtyard, young people from every corner of the world bustled about, chatting and laughing. The aroma of jollof rice wafted in the air.
‘In the years that followed, these regions gradually emancipated themselves and the British Empire dissolved. Yet the peoples within its former borders continued to prosper and, in 1945, created the Free Collective. It brought together states that prioritised the development of the new technology in particular, and of humanity as a whole. Around this time the discipline of “Perpetual Mobilism” was formalised, established to study the phenomenon both physically and philosophically.’
The professor nodded, satisfied with the summary. Irina pressed on, with elevated confidence:
‘Here I’ll deviate a little and speak about my personal interest in perpetual mobilism. During the creation of the Free Collective, Yosif Karagiozov’s name began to be mentioned more and more often as one of the founding figures behind this technological leap. In Bulgaria at the time, interest in the discipline flourished, especially in Karagiozov’s hometown of Troyan—where I was also born. The city even has two statues of him, and as a child, that connection to his achievement inspired me to seek a similar path.
‘But let’s get back to the mid-twentieth century: the influence and power of the Free Collective grew immensely. The virtually free energy produced by its member states had enormous geopolitical consequences. Any idea of waging war against them became unthinkable and others practically raced to join. Over the years, countries like Germany, the United States, and the Soviet Union joined as well. The boundless energy rendered the dogmatic divide between capitalism and communism meaningless. By the 70s, hunger and scarcity had been eradicated from the face of the earth, and with them the need for war. National borders grew increasingly blurred, since the majority of the world’s population were part of the Free Collective. Of course, divisions are not completely absent even today, but borders are used for administration and for framing a shared ethnic or cultural past rather than for any deeper divide. There are exceptions, of course, like Switzerland’—she smiled faintly.
Abeni returned her smile with approval. He liked this candidate; her presentation was accurate and, more importantly, concise. She would fit perfectly alongside Aurora Chopra, whom he had already accepted into the new cohort.
‘Thank you, Miss Daskalova. Now, let us return to the present. With war, hunger, and poverty behind us, what, in your opinion, remains for us to struggle with? In what direction should our development continue?’
‘I believe there are entire areas of perpetual mobilism we have yet to fully explore. I don’t think we’ve uncovered all the secrets of free and boundless energy—above all, whether it comes at a cost. And if it does—who pays that price? For example, I heard that in recent years a philosopher—I can’t recall the name, I’m sorry, something like Abdul…’
‘Abdullah Shahid?’ Abeni suggested.
‘Yes, exactly! He founded a new activist movement whose mission is to establish reserves where no quantum observation is conducted, so that these places can remain’—here Irina raised her fingers in air quotes—‘ “pure” and retain their full potential. Some theories even suggest that multiple universes exist, each corresponding to a quantum state, and that by drawing this energy we are erasing their chance to exist…’
Chimaobi Abeni picked up his stylus and entered a note of approval in his digital ledger. Irina had done well—she had even touched on the risky subject of the downsides of perpetual mobilism. He needed students just like her: bold enough to ask the right questions.
The applicant looked at him expectantly. But he wanted to ask her one more thing, outside the protocol.
‘And one more topic, before we finish for today.’ He switched the television back on. He was sure it would be about them again. ‘What do you think of the situation lately?’
The screen showed a square filled with shouting people holding signs, a tense reporter struggling to make himself heard over the noise. Some posters showed a crossed-out flying saucer, while others read ‘Earth is for Humans’ or ‘Aliens Out’!
Irina looked at the TV, then rolled her eyes dismissively.
‘I most certainly don’t agree with these people,’ she said, her voice edged with irritation. ‘For starters, the Aos Sí didn’t arrive in flying saucers—they came directly from their planet, presumably via some form of space-time distortion. And I definitely believe that on our Earth, with six billion people, there’s room for fewer than a hundred thousand refugees from the other side of the galaxy! They need help, and we have the resources to give it.’
Professor Abeni stood, came around his desk, and extended his hand to Irina. Then he said:
‘I look forward to building the future together, Miss Daskalova. Welcome to the University of Perpetual Mobilism in Lagos.’
Irina left the professor’s office exhilarated. Yes, yes, yes! She was accepted! Years of preparation and late-night reading had paid off. Would they let her join some of the experiments as early as her first year? How she longed to see the university’s quantum collapsar… And Aurora? Had she been accepted too? She had completely forgotten to call her… One thing was certain—exciting days lay ahead.
62 years later
‘We go live now to the scene of what is without doubt the most momentous event not only of 2059, but of the decade: the launch of the first superluminal starship built on Earth. We are four hundred kilometres above the planet’s surface, at the Collective Orbital Station, where excitement is at its peak around the spherical craft. Very soon it will set out toward the edge of the Oort Cloud, nearly one light-year away—a journey it is expected to complete in under two months.
‘And let me once again summarize the crew members, though by now everyone must surely know them—mission captain is Yamaguchi Hana from the province of Yamato in the East Asian Roman Empire. She is one of the most experienced pilots of the Free Collective, having flown three missions to Ganymede and Europa.
‘First officer is Tuatha, a senior engineer of the Aos Sí. Let us just say this is not someone afraid of traversing hundreds of millions of kilometres.
‘The last two crew members—Alex Ankhbayar and Vasily Rostov—bring their expertise in perpetual mobilism, the technological miracle that will propel the ship beyond the speed of light.
‘Before the countdown begins and transmission becomes impossible due to radio interference and the extraordinary brightness of the launch, let me say a final word—godspeed to the superluminal vessel Daskalova and a successful mission!’
