Page 24 - An Evening with Maxwell's Daemons

Invasion of the Silicates

arrive here in very small numbers and low frequency, like seeds
thrown to the wind by a dandelion in a stiff breeze. Sooner or later,
like those seeds, one might be tossed into congenial soil, take root
and grow. It is simple probability. In this case, the vast deserts of
Terra would provide that fertile ground. A silicate could find all the
raw materials there it needs to thrive. And let us hypothesize that
such organisms grow underground, like networks of roots. So
humans go on for—who knows?—eons while this thing battens
undetected on sand, reproducing geometrically or in colonies with
specialized castes like bees. Okay: that’s the premise. Now for the
story.”
“Professor G. O. Pick, the geologist, returns from a research trip
to the Kalahari Desert. On the plane crossing the Atlantic, a sudden
temporary depressurization of the cabin is survived by all the
passengers except the professor. He has a coughing fit and is unable
to breathe. On arrival his body is autopsied: he died of advanced
silicosis. Prior to departing, he had undergone a physical
examination, standard for men over fifty years of age. No
pulmonary disease had been evident in x-rays or reported
symptoms. His research materials are turned over to his university.
There they are pored over by his two top graduate students, Fred
and Sally. The mineral samples are unexceptional, but they make a
discovery. The page of the notes he was reviewing at the time he
died has latitude and longitude circled and a scrawl across it:
“silicates world danger—don’t”.
“So they get begrudging approval to retrace the path taken by his
small expedition, this time including protective breathing apparatus
as well as tools and explosives for excavation of rock strata. After a
hot slog through the desert, Fred and Sally arrive at the location
identified by Professor Pick. They find evidence of his presence,
and begin their own investigation of the area. The sand has
obviously been disturbed by the hand of man in one specific spot.
There they begin slowly, after donning their breathing apparatus,
shoveling off the loose superficial material in expectation of hitting
bedrock. Suddenly they hit something hard. Carefully sweeping

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