“Which is exactly why the computer, and not some politician, was placed in charge of the Omega Project.” The man forcing his way into the conversation was in his early sixties, his gray hairline receding, his paunchy physique poorly concealed beneath a tailored Italian business suit. “Sebastian Koch, Koch Fusion Industries. KFI is the power company that funded a significant amount of this lunar venture. I’ve met with Dr. DeFriend, and she and I agree this computer of yours is acting in all of our best interests.”

“How can you be so sure?” Thomas asked.

“I’m sure because GOLEM isn’t a politician, it’s a machine designed to think … to adapt. Unlike some of the people in this room, it won’t massage the message in order to remain in office, or spend time defending its own scientific theories in order to justify its employment. GOLEM ceased operations on the moon because it refused to waste any more time, money, or KFI resources on a course of action that it knew would fail to meet the mission’s objectives. Instead, it located a suitable source of helium-3, designed the habitat required to secure the compound from Europa, then put together the talent necessary to complete the mission as efficiently and as cost-effectively as possible.”

Vice President Udelsman slammed both palms on the table. “Under whose authority is GOLEM operating, Mr. Koch? Last time I checked, my office was in charge of the Space Energy Agency. Not KFI. Not Dr. DeFriend. And certainly not some goddamn computer!”

“The computer’s programmed to safeguard humanity. It doesn’t need your permission,” said Koch.

“Easy, fellas,” I said, attempting to quell the crossfire. “The underlying question that needs to be answered is whether GOLEM’s evaluation of the moon’s helium-3 is correct.”

“Agreed,” my uncle said. “Next week, the lunar shuttle should finally be ready to launch, transporting thirty-seven geologists, sixteen fusion engineers, and another twenty scientists to Alpha Colony. Their job is to analyze every sample of lunar soil collected over the last two years to determine whether the computer’s evaluation is correct.”

“So why am I here?”

The vice president leaned forward in his chair. “You’re here because you were the key scientist involved with the development of GOLEM’s biological matrix. You’re here because I want to know if this souped-up mechanical brain of yours has gone rogue like the computer from that 2001: A Space Odyssey movie … What was its name, Amanda?”

The auburn-haired civilian seated next to Udelsman answered without looking up from her h-phone. “HAL.”

“HAL. Right. Damn thing took over the astronauts’ ship.”