Letters to an Android

by Wendy Rathbone

  I never forget how fortunate I am.

  I am on the list now. Applications are in for my first command.

  My nerves. I don’t sleep much. Lark has threatened to knock me out several times. It seems everything inside me is tense and made of tremors.

  I will settle down, of course. Eventually. But I feel right now that I am such a smallness in such a vastness. The undertaking of running a ship, guiding it through expanses of nothing, finding planets like tiny gems on beaches of sand. I’m a navigator by trade and I still lose my stomach at the big picture.

  Tiri says, “Focus. Start with the first number. The smallest of areas. An inch. A foot. A single mile. Don’t look at the endless zeroes, the antiquities of the light years.”

  I’m a navigator! I know all this. But maybe I’ve lost my mind out here. Maybe it’s just too big.

  I think I want a science ship. Then I change my mind and hope for a cruise liner like the one I’m currently on. I’m also perfectly suited to captain a colony ship. Anything but a plain freight vessel, though I’d take that over nothing at all. C&C even has a line of more private transport vessels that ferry traveling circuses, performers, celebrities on tour. They go everywhere.

  Your long walks…I am so glad you have the opportunity now to take them. I think of the serenity of your gaze and it relaxes me. You do that to me. Thoughts of your heart. Your calm insights. Your whispering haiku.

  I’m the eccentric one. The weird one. The one darting around suns like a madman. There is something elegant about it all, though, and about you and me and our differing situations. How we came together, so alike, but live apart. Because I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t scour the space-dust lanes. And you wouldn’t be you if you were just any ordinary human being.

  I want you with me.

  A voice in my head keeps saying, “Figure it out.”

  But I am no help to you.

  These are the endless circles of my mind,

  Love,

  Liyan

  *

  Cobalt left his lamp on all night. When he looked up at the window on his nightly walk he saw it was pink, like a strange gateway and a comforting glow all in one.

  In his head he started composing a wave. “I am with you, Liyan, going round and round in the circles of your thoughts, my thoughts, and at the speed of space we’re never really separate.”

  But to touch and be touched. It was one wish that remained uncaught.

  *

  Liyan looked out the porthole window again and again at the sea of ships they were approaching.

  He lay on his back, pillow against the bulkhead. He was alone. Tiri was in the middle of her shift. He expected Lark to come off shift any minute.

  In space, the ships pulsed. Their auras tarnished bronze, old purple, glaze-green. First he could see the hazy mist of them floating in space, overlapping energies, more than two dozen of them creating a flickering aurora of starliners. Then as they drew closer, their gleaming hulls in focus, Liyan saw that twenty of them, the ones furthest out to “pasture,” were those too old for foldspace though their bodies still shone in equal blaze to the eight new models. Twenty were sentenced to be scuttled but the final word for each had taken years, and would take years more. Eight beauties closer to the space station waited to be commanded.

  The stateroom door opened. The living bronze light behind Lark spun through the ever-shifting fringe of his hair. In silhouette, he seemed bigger than life, and there were two crystals of light reflecting in his eyes. He said nothing but wandered to his bureau, taking off his white belt with the chrome buckle. He always hated the uniform belts, or any belt, never liking to be cinched into fancy clothing. He hung it from a handle on a drawer and it slid with a clatter disobediently to the deck.

  Lark cursed under his breath.

  Liyan’s chest tensed over a quick needle-flick of pain that came just as suddenly as it was gone.

  Still not speaking to him, Lark came over to the bed and sat on the edge. After awhile, he leaned up against the bulkhead, shoulder brushing against Liyan’s. As he looked out at the ships past Liyan’s gaze, his breaths came slow and shallow.

  Five minutes passed that way.

  Finally, Lark spoke, low and whispery. “Which one is yours?”

  “Second from the left. The one with the bluest aura.”

  “The Siren Song.”

  Liyan nodded.

  “She is gorgeous.” Lark laughed, although it came from deep inside him echoing with a sort of aching quickness.

  Liyan looked away from the porthole and up at Lark who himself was gorgeous with all the colors of the ships playing over his smooth face. He leaned into him, kissed the bottom of his jaw which was slightly rough. His breath heated the space between his mouth and Lark’s neck. When he inhaled, he smelled the static sparkly scent of the nav labs one more time, a faint alien spice.

  “After the settlement period, I’ll make sure there are placements for you and Tiri aboard her,” Liyan said.

  “That could take up to a year.”

  It was a fact he couldn’t argue. His heart skipped a little, then settled again. He said, “Then you have plenty of time to finally take your tests for commander. And I’ll have a place for you at my side.” He leaned his head against the inside curve of Lark’s neck.

  After awhile, Lark turned and pulled him into a loose embrace. Liyan turned his face and their lips met.

  He could hear the breath of the ship in its walls, the soft, low tremble.

  They got lost for a time. Lark had a slow mouth and warm, deft hands. Kisses that made the stars spiral.

  And Liyan was going to leave him.

  *

  Dear Cobalt:

  We came upon the fleet of ships, incandescent against a backdrop of velvet dark. The old ones looked still new. But they’d been stripped of working parts, consoles, systems, memory. They were hulks waiting for their deaths by fire.

  By far the most beautiful ship there, Siren Song, blazed forth like a silver-blue gem. An A-Class Cruiser. Bigger. Newer. A starliner for touring celebrities, musicians, actors, sports teams, politicians and royalty. And the very rich.

  My ship.

  No, I don’t own her.

  No, I don’t have delusions that I don’t answer to higher orders.

  But she is mine to command. And that’s the most important part of it all to me.

  I leave tonight.

  Lark and Tiri can’t go with me. Not yet.

  It seems I’m too often in the position of leaving those I love behind. My priorities feel like a mess and yet I am single-minded. Is that wrong?

  Am I a fool?

  Of course now isn’t the time to start questioning my decisions. I’ll be making important ones all day, every day from now on. I can’t appear in any way less than confident.

  I will bring Lark and Tiri aboard when the time is right. They know this.

  But it doesn’t make leaving easier. Not at all. There is a weight of tension in my chest that was never there before.

  My ship awaits.

  I can’t breathe.

  Love,

  Liyan

  *

  He watched the old starliners recede on the front screen.

  His old ship with Lark and Tiri still aboard had already left, its bluish trail dissipating into the stars.

  He turned to his crew. All strangers.

  Liyan’s pulse beat hard in his throat as he gave the orders and the heading for their first voyage. Only a shakedown cruise. No passengers. The crew wasn’t sorted out yet. Everything was rough. But they were off. Stars billowing as if in a wild wind.

  He looked around him. The console lights flared pink and gold. Silver-faced, square screens rose above each station. Black leather chairs affixed to the decks, steering, helm, engineering, communications and, most important, navigation. The woman who sat there was named Raen. He didn’t know her. She came highly recom
mended. But he wanted Tiri. Of course Raen would not be unreliable, but Tiri was his confidant. Who would these new people be to him?

  And of course he wanted Lark there. Exuberantly supportive. Quietly, but so intensely in love with him even when all Liyan could talk about was Cobalt.

  He couldn’t stop thinking of their good-bye.

  The tight hugs from both Lark and Tiri. The salty kisses on his forehead, temples, both cheeks.

  He trembled, seeing all the effortless functioning of the vessel’s bridge under his power, his voice, his decisions. It was such a great advancement.

  But the cost might’ve been too much.

  *

  Part Six

  26. Siren Song

  Dear Cobalt:

  I am not sleeping well at all.

  I am nerve-wracked.

  I work 12 hours or more a day.

  I am in love.

  This starliner is so luscious and so new it still smells of fresh oil, disinfectant, cool wind. She is trim and graceful in her moves. They all are but this ship seems more so, turning her sleek body under the starlight as if to bathe in it, never jerking, never hesitant, humming her smooth song as she goes.

  I command her and my heart feels too big for my chest. This is where I’ve come to land out here in the dark. I stand on the deck and ride the magnetic tides of this ancient galaxy. My own ego could overwhelm me if I let it. It’s more likely I’m still in shock. This quick move. This grand adventure. And me in charge.

  I miss you and Lark and Tiri so much, but I’m so busy I don’t have time to be maudlin over it. Yet.

  Right now I am working hard to bring them aboard…so much paperwork, so much shuffling, and analysis, a never-ending array of tasks that have nothing to do with standing on the bridge and giving orders, really, except to inform me all that I need to know about everything from the people who work here, from the tight schedules to the functioning of the ship’s sewage system (which was apparently its only hitch on our first outing, fixed now, but could have led to disaster…don’t laugh.)

  I must make space for Lark and Tiri. It is a priority. In my most exhausted moments, lying on my bunk, I worry that they are arguing too much again, fighting but not making up like they used to. After I came to them, to their bedroom, things between them lightened up. I never heard them argue…maybe once or twice. The tension between them, and between the three of us became a different sort, a welcome sort. And even when it was Lark’s attentions I craved the most, Tiri understood, she was never jealous, only welcoming, happier because now she had both of us. I always thought in our friendship, before we all got together, that I was like ‘the third wheel’, in the way, an extra fixture that is not yet needed. But I realize in hindsight that Tiri felt that way about herself even in the beginning by my and Lark’s close friendship, that she was in the way, left out of our special rapport. I didn’t realize that she knew all along Lark was in love with me.

  And then there was the added complication of them (and me) not wanting to interfere with my feelings for you.

  Some days I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m in a spin. I can’t stop wondering if I’m even now where I am supposed to be.

  But if you love where you are, isn’t that all right? But what of the loves you’ve left behind?

  I still think about how you almost died. Every day. And when you got hurt I wasn’t there. I came later, of course, when you woke, but so many weeks had passed before that in worry and frustration.

  How selfish I seem to myself sometimes.

  Love,

  Liyan

  *

  Dear Liyan:

  Do you think it is wrong to go after your dreams? To want what you want? Everyone makes sacrifices in life. Some people just seem to have a wider range of choice than others in that act.

  Think about it. If you came here to live and be with me, you would not be ‘who’ you are to me, the far-journeyer, the seeker, the dreamer. Would I be true to love if I kept you cooped up, working with me in a hotel that is merely a stop-off in the hurry and bustle of daily life? To cage you, confine you, would that even work for any kind of relationship? For us? I would always think it was me who kept you leashed, my condition that made you hold back. My life is as it is. Written in code before I was born. But not yours. Is that fair? No. But would it be fair of me to put my limitations upon you? No.

  I want you out there commanding your beautiful starliner. I want you working your fantastic math, having your foldspace breakdowns, navigating yourself through the mouths of quasar dragons, visiting worlds made of ocean or hiking through giant robot sculptures on a hundred miles of cliffs. I want you to see, smell, and taste all of it and then write to me about it so I can smell and taste it, too. I want to see the swan-boats, gulp the air of fairy tale alien forests, read of your graceful love for Lark and Tiri. It fills me up on a level I cannot define. It makes me whole.

  I have no self of my own. I do live through you, in your every wave. That is true. But I am expanded for it. My own self is greater, stronger, happier these days. Do you believe me? You must. If you find yourself hesitating at all, remember that every journey, every life, every death is solitary. We are born individual and die individual. We try to connect with those like us along the way, and we feel great things about those connections, but the truth of the soul, I’ve learned in all these years, is to journey where you most need to go to become more than the flesh, more than just the name of who you are. I cannot do that. I am free only in my mind. But you are free in body and mind. You need to be where you are. I need to share in that with you. This is the only way.

  You are captain of a big starship now. I can write those amazing words because they are true. 20 years old when you left. Now nearing 30. Look at what you’ve done in that period of time. I have shared in it all. It is not a movie or a novel, it is your life. And my life is richer for it. How could I ever thank you enough?

  Love,

  Cobalt

  *

  Dear Cobalt:

  Our first passengers boarded today. Two casts of two different plays on tour. Three musical groups. A small traveling ballet troupe.

  I put in requisitions for Lark and Tiri to join the crew. I don’t see too many obstacles except the red tape. It could take up to six months for the transfer to be complete.

  Your last wave means everything to me. Your words could not have come at a better time. Thank you.

  Lark and Tiri also wave me often now. Knowing I have such good friends surrounding and supporting me gives me extra confidence in this.

  I have not had any problems to speak of with the crew. A medic in sickbay asked me in a sarcastic tone, even though he had my chart in front of him and knew the answer, “How old are you?”

  “My date of birth is on record,” I told him. He gave me a little fake smile so I knew then and there my age could be a factor against me in learning to win the trust of all new people who do not know me, or each other, and who have never seen me work.

  But really my biggest problem with the crew is keeping them fit. The boredom of space can be a hindrance. Many work only at whatever is requested and seek no more on their own. Some show up looking bored or tired or hung-over. A paycheck is their bigger concern. That is the way it was when I worked in the shipyards. I didn’t notice it so much once I got stationed because I became friends with a group of more eager and active people not yet jaded by their jobs. In hindsight I can see that it was their passion for the work, same as mine, that led us all to be friends. Oh, and the fact that we all worked in nav.

  But isn’t this the most luxurious living? And our passengers are far from boring, all artists, all sought after, brilliant in their trades. We will be making so many exotic port o’ calls. Davenda. Nod. Citron. And more.

  What can I do to inspire my crew? Passion for the ship, the journey, the work as well as the play, the planetfalls, the voyage of discovery? We’re more than a simple ferry-boat. T
hey are all very experienced, but over-experience can also lead to slogging routine.

  Oh well, I’ll figure it all out. Yes, most certainly.

  Love,

  Liyan

  *

  Dear Liyan:

  I would tell your crew to go for long walks to the edge of their town. Look at the streets, the buildings, the skies, the weather, the lights. It helps. But since the ship is of limited space, they will not be able to go very far. And they won’t be able to look back and see where they have been, and look at it from a distance in the varying hues of day or night or false atmospheres of asteroid repair stations.

  I think maybe an insistence that all your crew make as many planetfalls as possible could be an option. Your waves to me soared when you spoke of your off-ship ventures.

  To see where the vessel they work within takes them should be a requirement. They can then view how far they’ve come, and how much further they’re going even if they make return stop-offs to planets and solar systems they’ve been to before.

  It is also important to me, as someone who loves you, that you have Lark and Tiri with you as soon as possible. You are where you want to be but I dislike, after all this time, thinking of you alone among strangers.

  I realize I took a lot for granted in knowing they were with you all the time, that should anything upset you they would be there for you, take care of you.

  Please wave me soon. Tell me everything.

  Love,

  Cobalt