by F P Adriani
The golden lighting here was very strong, as if a sunny day were locked inside the space, and on the right side of the room at the front, there was a lit-up console, which the worker Devin was operating. He wasn’t wearing an orange worksuit, however. Neither was Kostas when she walked in from a doorway near him. They were both wearing worksuits that looked like the same shape and fit as the orange ones, but these suits were red-wine colored.
“What’s with the new suits?” I blurted out, my voice slightly echoing in the cavernous space—though I thought that the wine color of the suits was definitely an improvement for human skin tones, and the color looked especially regal on Kostas’ tall, straight posture.
“Hello again, Captain Zarro and everyone else from the Demeter,” Kostas said now in a serious voice as she stopped at the head of the room, quite close to where Devin’s quick, dark hands were moving over that console. “Based on some of your complaints and on some new functions we wanted to introduce, we’ve created this new suit design. Devin and I have been testing it. We’ve used a different material, one that’s more flexible.”
“Kostas, when the orange suits disintegrated on my ship, they left puddles of goo on the floors, but then the goo quickly hardened into flat plates.” I jerked a thumb over my shoulder, meaning it for Jim. “Jim collected all the orange plates; he’s got them in his cabin.” I looked over my shoulder for him, but my eyes couldn’t locate him in the crowd of my crew. A few of my crewmembers smiled at me, including Gary.
I smiled back, my eyes lingering on his face, till Kostas said, “The orange material is from another galaxy, as is this red material. We will recycle the orange plates for another use.” She seemed to straighten up even more. “Now, we must get started. Oh—thank you for coming; I wanted to say that before we got started. I am improving in my interactions with you, I hope.”
I almost laughed at the mechanical way she’d said that, but her thank you was definitely better than the way she’d talked the first time I’d met her. So I smiled at her now.
She glanced at Devin. “Devin?”
“I’ve got the images loaded,” he said.
Kostas moved to the right side of the room even more, and the dark plane of the wide front wall suddenly brightened as the strong golden light above us dimmed.
My crew behind me were very silent; I wondered if some of them were sleeping. I hoped not, but I didn’t look at them again. I wanted to give my complete attention to the front of the room….
Moving images suddenly sprang to life on the wide wall, and those images made me and a bunch of my crewmembers catch our breath.
My eyes roamed over the vast collection of large, sparkling, planetary spheres floating in the cosmos on the wall; between the spheres, there were bright dots and threads of connecting matter, which seemed to be holding the spheres up in a framework in the black of space. There must have been thousands of spheres, and as I watched them, it seemed as if I was moving past them, through the overall structure, while the spheres somehow kept disappearing into the distance, kept getting smaller and smaller, till they were just points of light and the framework was no longer visible.
Now Kostas began, “You are looking through an area of this universe that humans have never accessed; you probably would not be able to access it with only human technology. Accessing it is a lengthy, staged process even for the Keepers. This area is inhabited by various species who are hard to understand and difficult to deal with….” I had to hold back a laugh at this point: the words “pot-meet-kettle” were going through my head. “…One of these species has been at war with its own kind on its own planet for many years,” Kostas continued. “It is not a conventional war by human standards. This is literally a war of words, but it has physical consequences, especially as territory and other goods are often turned over by the loser of each battle, assuming a battle ends, and some battles there don’t end.
“Unfortunately, the situation there has been escalating for some time, but it’s been a slow, predictable escalation—”
“Hang on a second—I’m confused,” I said on a frown. “What does all this have to do with you Keepers? Why do you bother with things in the present? Jim also mentioned you do this sometimes, but doesn’t that interfere with your archiving work?”
Kostas nodded, quite fast. “Most certainly. But some things are so important that we must take action, especially if we’re asked to intervene. We don’t prefer this, we don’t prefer altering live history, or any path, like we had to do in your case,” Kostas finished, looking right at me now. “However, based on our analyses of the future in our path-library, if we do not interfere here, we are quite sure there would be a war-caused event that would lead to the collapse of the interplanetary framework pictured on the wall, which collapse would be so catastrophic that spacetime would begin vibrating, causing massive, destructive waves that would reverberate throughout this universe, especially in the layer the Earth is in, as this interplanetary framework is connected to that layer. Now do you see how important dealing with this problem is?”
No one from my ship responded—maybe because all of our mouths were dangling open. My heart was pumping much too hard; I felt someone grab my right hand—Gary. His brown eyes softened at me, but his mouth below was curled into a sad expression.
“Months ago,” Kostas continued, “we had examined your likely future path again and saw an intersection with the warring species, but the intersection was not supposed to happen till years from now. However, something has changed, and had you not come here today, the catastrophic framework collapse would have definitely happened, and in a much shorter period of time. That you continue on the current path you’re on is very important to the future.
“We workers have less than six weeks to solve this crisis and train you and your crew as if you are workers, so you can help us address this issue with more knowledge and experience.”
My mouth fell open again. “How long did it take you to train?”
“Several years—”
Loud groans from me and my crew. Then I said, “And you expect us to do it in weeks?!”
“You did not let me finish my sentence,” Kostas said on a sigh. “I am a full worker. You will be using worker tools, because I’m assuming you do not want to be full workers. You don’t need to know so much, at least not yet, if you won’t be remaining over the long term. And you will always have us full workers and of course the Keepers around while you’re training. You will not be here alone now.
“We Keepers have also decided that we want to acquire more people—more humans we trust—to learn what our work is, in case we should fail someday or evolve away from what we do. Then there would at least be an outside record of the steps that can be taken so others can continue to do our work.”
My astonished eyes were fixed on Kostas’ face as I said, “I’m honestly beginning to question your grasp on reality…. What can we really do? According to you, it would take years for us to reach your level, and then it would only be subject to human abilities still.”
“There are many things that need to be done,” Kostas said, “and there are possibly many ways to do them. Just like beings evolve, so might the notion of what a worker is, and what a worker does, also evolve.
“But let me take one step at a time. I’ve gone too far ahead because I’ve been talking about two separate issues: One, the specific case of the current problem we need your help on, and, Two, our relationship in the long term.
“Let’s focus on the current problem. Don’t worry too much about the future, especially its specifics. Just be aware of the importance of the future. I think that should be enough to help you make the correct decisions in it, decisions that will be best for everybody, including you.”
“Well,” I said, “right now, I need more specifics about what you want me and my crew to do.”
Kostas’ dark eyes seemed to pierce my face. “We all must move forward as soon as possible to address this current threat. Part
of that will be your making a decision now—to come with us.”
A majorly loud silence fell over the room—like, everyone-was-holding-her-fucking-breath loud.
When I spoke now, my voice came out a bit squeaky. “Come with you—how and to where? While I don’t have any jobs planned for right now, something could come up—”
“Never mind jobs on your ship. You must remain on our ship,” Kostas said.
“Hey,” I said now, my face hotly reddening, “what the fuck are you talking about—especially with that MUST. I don’t MUST do anything with you. How many times have I been over this, including with Jim?” I glanced over at him—shot an angry look over at him really; he had finally appeared, and he was standing not that far from me. “He hasn’t told you that?”
“There’s no need,” Kostas said. “We know how you feel about interacting with us. I don’t blame you. There are risks, but there are also rewards. What if I told you you’d get to see Upal and Settaly again?”
My heart was pounding too hard for comfort. I blinked, finally letting out a hard breath, through my nose. “You do know how to be persuasive. But are you just bullshitting me? You once told me I wouldn’t be able to see them again.”
“Things would change if you were working with us on a more permanent basis, but I’m getting ahead of the issue again. A problem we believe you now have is: how long do you think your ship will last, given the amount of work you get across the galaxy? It seems to me—and probably to you if you admit it—that you haven’t really planned for that. Can you afford to buy a whole new ship? If you work with us, you won’t have to.”
Kostas flicked a hand toward Devin, and he manipulated his console; the images on the wall dropped away till the wall looked back to normal, and the golden light above us strengthened again.
Kostas walked to the middle of the wall, then turned to face me and my crew. “And then there is this other problem: the universe where the Keepers originated from is connected to this universe. And one of the entryways from there is near The Reimark Layer.”
My eyes shot toward Kostas’ eyes as I began to see where she had been going with all of this. And on my right, Gary’s feet in his brown shoes nervously shift around on the gray floor.
“Not all sects of Keepers agree on how Keepers should lead their lives,” Kostas said, her voice containing a slightly dry tinge. “And, though it is hard for us to admit it, the truth is that there are rogue Keepers.”
“Well, that’s awesome,” someone said. It sounded like Steve’s deep tones, but I was too stunned by Kostas’ words to turn around. It didn’t help that when she moved her hands now, I saw that they were shaking a little.
She sighed now, a long drawn-out sound. “Captain Zarro, had you gone to Barton-2, a crewmember of Claudius’ ship would not have spotted your ship at Makron Station, as he has indeed done. And then Claudius wouldn’t have used a certain device he now possesses to scan the area…and then he wouldn’t have found Jim on your ship. All workers have a Keeper chip inserted in their anatomy somewhere, especially to more readily accept Keeper mind-links. Some devices from other places in the universes can detect Keeper materials.”
Jim’s mouth had fallen open at Kostas’ words, just like my mouth had. Apparently, even he hadn’t been told about everything that was going on, including, it seemed, the part related to his existence and possible welfare.
I said fast to Kostas now, “So that’s when my crew and I would have died.”
I probably shouldn’t have blurted out that whopper; the room erupted—my crew gasped in shock and started shuffling around.
Shirley yelled, “What?!”
And someone else said in a nervous voice, “Can we go back to the Demeter now and get the hell out of here?”
“Please, everyone,” Kostas said, her voice loudening, “let me explain: when you left Makron, it seems Claudius would have kidnapped Jim and destroyed your ship. But, we’ve intervened and prevented that from happening, which was not as difficult as it seems when the kidnapping wasn’t supposed to happen in the first place, at least that appears to be the case.”
“What do you mean ‘appears to be’?” I said in a more alarmed voice now. “Can it happen later than you thought—Claudius knows Jim was on my ship—can he find this ship now? Could Jim be tagged somehow?” I glanced at him again, saw that his mouth had clamped shut and his eyelids were weirdly twitching. Geena had also moved to stand on his other side. And her open mouth trembled….
At the front of the room, Kostas was frowning. “We’ve found no evidence that Jim has been ‘tagged,’ but, we can’t completely discount it, considering we now know Claudius has at least one device he shouldn’t possess. It’s possible he has more.”
“How the hell did you let this happen!” I said in a harsh voice, harsh because I was worried and angry at the same time, though not really at the Keepers—but at that scumbag, Claudius.
Kostas’ frown deepened. “How many times have I indicated that we can’t control everything?”
“And what, specifically, do you want us to do?” Matt asked from somewhere in the room.
“We want you to become part of the crew of this ship,” Kostas said simply.
“What?!” one of my crewmembers said.
“Hell no,” said another.
Then Sam said on a weary, long sigh, “I’m too old for all this.”
“No one is too old for anything,” Kostas said. “This is especially the case inside the worker-suits: the longer you’ve been wearing them, the more they slow down the aging process. As you know, they are capable of giving medical treatment. You just need to know how to work the controls. You’ve had a little taste of that on Rintu. Getting more than a taste, again, takes time. It is your choice what to do with your time.”
Matt spoke up again: “This is all well and good, but, newsflash: some of us have family and friends elsewhere. I want to see my mom again on Diamond.”
“We never said you would be unable to talk to other humans again, especially if you don’t actually become full workers with us. But how much of a change would more permanently remaining on here really be? You’re all out in space on the Demeter for most of the year. You don’t see your relations then.”
I had to admit, Kostas had a point there. Although it did sound like she was saying my crew and I would have to remain as a part of the Monument’s crew for the rest of our lives….
Kostas stepped closer to us. “We must work together at least temporarily on the current issue of the potential framework collapse. You don’t have to make a decision about a permanent presence on the Monument yet. But, please understand that if you choose to not work with us over the long-term, we will have to block some information inside your minds.”
There were sharp intakes of breath around me.
“Crap,” I said, my face flushing—not that I hadn’t expected what Kostas just said. The Keepers had certainly had no problem wiping information from my ship before.
“You know what?” Gary said now. “I don’t relish the idea of becoming an automaton like you crowd. Sorry for the insult, but I don’t really want to be a worker. I want to be part of a normal spaceship crew.”
Kostas’ dark-haired head nodded fast. “But you will be; only the ship you’ll be in won’t be normal. As I’ve said, you will not really be workers on here. You will be you, but you’ll have daily interactions with us automatons.” There was something in Kostas’ voice; she had visibly directed it at Gary, but I got the feeling she was also talking to herself.
And I wondered then that if we normal humans and the worker humans spent more time together, maybe we normal humans wouldn’t be the only ones learning things.
“We need some time to think about all of this,” I said now, exhaling loudly. “We’re exhausted—this has been a completely crazy day for us, don’t forget.”
Kostas took another step closer to me and my crew. “Of course, but I do believe that once we show you more of the Monument,
it will make your decision-making easier.”
“You mean that once we see this fab ship, we’ll be more likely to wanna remain on it?” I said.
Kostas’ mouth twitched, as if she was on the verge of laughing. “You know us well,” she finally said.
*
Really, though, we didn’t know the workers and the Keepers well, and maybe that was indeed a problem: as my crew and I began walking out of the meeting room toward the hangar, Kostas stopped us and said she wanted to take us on a tour of the Monument right then. And I decided to go on the tour.
I had to make extremely important decisions now, and I hated basing decisions on too-little information; going on a tour of this place would probably yield me more information.
Kostas used a control on the meeting room’s right side-wall, and the wall parted. My crew and I followed her through the opening and into a small space containing stone furnishings and dark cushions arranged in a large circle on the floor; then we moved beneath an archway and into a long, narrow hallway. It was darker in here and, for some reason, I suddenly remembered the Demeter’s damages.
“Kostas,” I said, “whether we stay or not, what about my ship?”
She glanced over her shoulder at me. “What about it?
“You know, the damage? Or do you not know?”
“I know about it,” she said. “We’ll deal with that later.”
“But I’m aggravated here—you gave me and my crew bad instructions through Jim—I don’t know what happened, but one of the weapon-systems I just bought is damaged now, and you say Claudius is after me again. Why didn’t you make sure my ship was safe—or did you damage it on purpose so we’d be stranded here?”
Kostas stopped walking so fast that I almost bumped into her.
She turned around. “I didn’t realize you had such an active imagination where we’re concerned. You are entirely misconstruing the situation here.” She sighed abruptly, and her dark eyes seemed to lose focus. “Yes…I agree, Thura.” Kostas’ eyes whipped to mine now. “Change of plan. Back up, everyone, into the previous room, and we will head in another direction.”
