by Far Freedom
“Now what?” Jon asked.
“I think he’s crying,” I replied with a painful throat. “He wanted to see his mother.”
*
“The jumpship normally carries a crew of three,” Zakiya said to the group gathered around the foot of the ramp. “We’ve made modifications so that it can accommodate at least five. I would like to add a fifth member to the crew, preferably an engineer familiar with the jumpship. If one of you would like to volunteer, please step - “
They stepped forward before Zakiya could finish: Direk, Setek-Ren, Koji, Khalanov, Wingren, and others I knew. I don’t know why there was so little hesitation.
I didn’t think Zakiya would take Direk or Setek-Ren. Jamie turned away from looking at her mother and stared sadly at Direk. Aylis hit Setek on the back and went over to stand with Jamie.
“I should not have asked for volunteers. It upsets me to see some of you apparently eager to leave those who need you.” Zakiya looked at each person, almost as if viewing them for the last time. Finally she let her gaze stay on Khalanov.
Khalanov took another step forward. Still holding his hand, Wingren stayed behind him and clearly struggled with her emotions. No one was happy; there were only degrees of sadness and disappointment. I did sense that Khalanov truly wanted to go with us. I didn’t know how important Wingren was to him but I knew her well enough to understand the potential of their relationship. Wingren had more personality than most of these ancient mariners.
“I’m sorry I want it to be you, Iggy,” Zakiya said. “I’m sorry but I’m also glad. Departure is in three days.”
I sat down on the ramp and observed the quiet actions of the people who were my friends. I was happy that couples were still a popular social unit. I was happy that I could observe decent behavior that hadn’t changed much since I last knew the human race.
I watched Setek-Ren put a hand on Aylis’s shoulder, watched her pull the shoulder away, but not too far away. She was upset he volunteered. Setek persisted, until Aylis accepted his embrace and squeezed him tightly. Perhaps too tightly. “My water just broke!”
Setek and Aylis popped off to the hospital, followed by everyone except Koji, Khalanov, and Wingren. Koji shook hands with Iggy, then grabbed him and hugged him. He walked away into the darker depths of the hangar deck. Iggy and Wingren looked over at me. It was time for me to leave. I asked the Protector for transport home, and for the first time received no response. I walked off in the direction Koji took.
I tracked Jessie to the hospital where, I was told, she talked them into letting her observe the delivery of Aylis’s baby. Sunny was being passed around the group in the waiting room. He was his usual happy self, satisfied to be the object of anyone’s attention. I thought he would be fine if Jessie and I were not able to return to him. I felt a stab of anguish as I wondered who would raise him. I looked around the room, trying to spot Sunny’s future parents. My personal choice was Jamie and Direk, but they would probably want their own baby.
I finally got my turn to hold Sunny, because he needed a fresh diaper. While changing him I looked closely at his anatomy and imagined that he was becoming more masculine. Then I saw him looking up at me with his mother’s eyes. He was so tiny, yet he seemed to be thinking about me in some serious way. He wasn’t smiling. I talked to him. “I could say something about having lost one son to the barbarians and not wanting to lose another. Or I could try to explain about Milly. No, none of that matters to a little guy who needs his parents right now. I’m sorry, Sunny.”
Aylis finally delivered.
I can’t do it. I can’t describe the final days aboard the Freedom. I especially cannot describe the last few moments Jessie and I had with Sunny. I hurt so badly, yet I knew Jessie hurt far worse. I also had to say goodbye to Sammy. I don’t think he understood that I might not be coming back. I had tried to keep him ignorant of the jumpship mission but he knew a lot of people and asked a lot of questions.
It was like a dream, a nightmare, walking up that ramp, holding tightly to Jessie’s hand. I paused at the top, and turned to look at all the people who came to see us off. Alex and Zakiya were behind us on the ramp. Jessie tried to stifle a cry of despair, but it was heard by everyone. Zakiya helped me rush her into the little ship. The portal closed quickly behind us. Iggy was already aboard.
Somewhere far behind us in the great dark gulf between galaxies a sphere of vacuum collapsed in the pressurized atmosphere of the Freedom‘s hangar deck. A special barrier protected those who came to say farewell. I could still feel a report of thunder as I held my shaking Jessie.
The narration of Samuel Lee pauses.
Section 009 Resistance Is Futile
“Why were you called Melvin?” Pan asked.
“You speak as if the name is distasteful. Does the name have a bad history?” They walked across the North American continent, unobserved by any who would glance their direction from a thousand countries floating in space above them. They walked ancient highways, the pavement all but destroyed by centuries of patient attack by the forces of nature. Melvin, who had always walked with legs folded, now walked unfolded. It told itself it was because it slowed Pan and Fred in their mad dash to suicide. Anyway, the change in Melvin’s physiology wouldn’t have time to become permanent. It was purely a matter of curiosity, both the human mystery and the mystery of the near future.
“I’m unaware of anything negative about the name Melvin,” Pan responded. “I thought perhaps it made reference to something in your own language.”
“Constant named me, and I can hardly remember the Old Language. It had so few words with which to deal with this universe of humanity. It’s like comparing Standard to English.”
“It’s interesting to hear you struggle to keep the English out of your Standard. Have you spoken English for most of your stay among humans?”
“You keep trying to pry more information out of me. It isn’t healthy for you to know too much about me.”
“But I’ve met the Lady in the Mirror. She would seem to be the key secret. I’m just interested in you.”
“Yes, why me?” Melvin asked itself aloud. It was always this way. Fortunately, in the early days, it had sensed the danger in this attraction humans had for Servants - and Servants for humans. Constant understood the danger, too, and suggested they should minimize contact with humans. But there was always Milly… Melvin finally had to separate himself from Milly and the other Servants. They were all infected, all crazy.
“I find myself attracted to you,” Pan said. “I don’t wish to bother you. Is there something wrong with me? You seem uncomfortable near me, yet you stay with us.”
Melvin stopped at a place to sit and rest. Its legs did not want to fold, but they did, slowly. “Quit staring at me!” Melvin demanded irritably. Even Old Fred wanted to stare at him. “No, there is nothing wrong with you! There is nothing wrong with me! But when humans and Servants stay together for a long period of time, we begin to change, both mentally and physically. Most of the Servants have mutated or metamorphosed into Golden Ones, so they have human limbs and false gender attributes. I saw what was beginning to happen and exiled myself centuries ago. But here I am with you, and I worry I’ll lose myself.”
Fred spoke. “Is the change not reversible?”
“I don’t know! But I can see it’s hard to stop! Intellectually, I’m in a panic, but emotionally I’m intrigued and attracted. Does that sound stupid? Pan, you’re a male. That probably means I’ll turn female. But it takes time. At least I thought it did!”
“Let us depart without you,” Fred said, looking toward Pan to see him nod assent.
Melvin raised its hand in farewell and lowered its face in sadness. Melvin heard the footfalls recede. Melvin sat until only the silence of the wind remained. It smelled like rain coming. An owl hooted in the woods. It would be dark soon. The look on Pan’s face was sorrow. It was a good face. Pan was a good man.
Melvin got up and walked in the opposite d
irection on stubby legs. It seemed like the wrong direction because it was not a new direction. Melvin always preferred a new path, new sights, new experiences. But every old ruin of a town or city was more alike than not. Melvin sighed, unfolded one leg, then the other, and turned around. It found their camp before dark.
Section 010 Interview of a Barbarian
The narration of Samuel Lee resumes.
Zakiya was anxious to launch the mission. I understood her reason for haste was her mysterious son Petros. This was news to Jessie and she treated it with sad reserve, pointing out the progression of loss for Zakiya: Sammy, Freddy, and now Petros. I don’t know if Jessie wondered at everyone’s silence on the subject of Petros but I didn’t bring it to her attention.
The consequence of our rapid departure was an intense period of work aboard the jumpship that was better done aboard the Freedom. We trained and cross-trained on every system of the jumpship. Jessie and I also had new inbody augments to learn how to use. A fortunate consequence was that we had less time to think about those we left behind.
In the rest periods, when sorrowful thoughts might creep in, Zakiya seemed determined to keep us distracted. She had stories to tell. For instance, did you know that Zakiya was the illegitimate daughter of the president of the last nation on Earth? She was cared for by her mother’s father until he grew too weak with age or illness. Babu Muenda died bringing Zakiya to live with her aunt. Zakiya told the story so well, I could feel the old man trembling under his burden, as he carried his granddaughter up those many steps to the front door of her aunt’s house. Babu Muenda died, and even as he died he tried to protect Zakiya, keeping her from falling down the hard steps. I envied Babu Muenda his noble death.
As I sat quietly beside Alex, I knew what he was doing. He was reading Zakiya’s journal. I still found it strange to know the journal existed in a data device in Zakiya’s body, and Alex was reading her like a book, so to speak, by shiplink.
Zakiya and Jessie were in another compartment. I think their friendship deepened, and that gave me some peace of mind. There was no finer friend in the universe than Zakiya. And I didn’t want Jessie to depend on me for every social aspect of her life, if we were ever to become useful members of human society. I was curious about what they would discuss. I couldn’t imagine Zakiya lowering herself to participate in girl-talk, but anything to keep Jessie’s thoughts from Sunny.
I didn’t want to bother Alex. No, I did want to bother him. According to Zakiya and others who knew him, Alex was not the outgoing person he used to be. I wanted to talk to him and find out that he was not as frightened as I was. His silence worried me. The surplus of affection that Zakiya gave him worried me - did he need that? Alex was a genuine hero, despite his negative opinion of the morality of his heroism. I needed to know he was still a hero. I thought of him as our leader, the person who would keep us alive. I still didn’t grasp how potent Zakiya was.
“Something bothering you?” Alex asked, startling me.
I wondered for an instant if I’d failed to turn off that gadget in my brain that allowed us to have telepathic communication. “I need to start a journal.”
“That would be good.”
“Do you keep one?”
“Not exactly.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know.”
“My own thoughts will certainly be less than profound.”
“Sunny will want to know what you say.” Alex immediately added, “Please forgive me.” He had mentioned Sunny. That was what he regretted.
“I suppose he will.” I tried to swallow a tennis ball in my throat without showing any discomfort. My imagination instantly showed me a possible future scene in which my orphaned son is reading my journal, and the words aren’t enough. I write so poorly, he’ll never really know me. I shoved myself out of that imagined scene, and I must have allowed visibility to my emotions because Alex was staring at me sadly.
“It’s good to record your thoughts in the written word. I am greatly enriched by Zakiya’s journal.”
“Did you keep a journal?”
“It was too difficult for me. Words became my enemies, history became my shame. The records of Deep Space Fleet contain volumes of my writings, everything from daily reports to scientific treatises. I was so sure of everything when I was a young man. You shake your head. Why?”
“When I was young I was not sure of anything.”
“And now?”
“I’m sure of a few things.”
Alex nodded. He smiled, as though knowing what I meant. Then the smile faded. “Have you ever killed anyone, Sam?”
The question disturbed me. I surmised that Alex’s reason for asking it pertained to the prospect for danger in the near future. I almost answered incorrectly. The memory of it made me feel very old, very sad, and very ashamed. I killed Karl Moses. I may as well have put my forty-five to his head and pulled the trigger. And the others. All because I was unhappy and impatient. I tried but couldn’t remember the intensity with which I must have wanted things to change. I could only imagine the intensity. Milly was a difficult person, who occupied my thoughts almost every minute of the day back then. Our relationship had cause for intensity. The struggle to develop the Big Circuits created a continuous level of intensity. It seemed so needless now. Karl Moses didn’t need to die. “People died because of me. No, that isn’t the complete truth. I killed several people. My own shameful history.”
“In 1986?”
“Yes.”
“I find that difficult to believe. You’re a gentle person, Samuel Lee, and I think you must always have been a gentle person. Perhaps your memory is flawed.”
“It is, but not in this instance.”
“Would you tell me about it?”
I had never told Jessie of those events on a Sunday morning in the late 20th century on Earth. Yet, not a day passed that I didn’t relive that memory. I must have distanced myself from the memory in recent times, giving it just a glance when it arose from the depths and sank back. Even the great change in my brain did not smother it. I struggled to find the words to describe to Alex what happened, not because the images faded, but because they retained their power and detail. It hurt to gather the necessary verbs and adjectives to make a person of the future, like Alex, comprehend what happened in the winter of 1986 in a small town in Kansas. I didn’t spare myself of any painful detail.
I had reached the end of my narrative and Alex was looking at me very thoughtfully, when Jessie and Zakiya entered the room. Jessie was happy about something. She saw me and instantly was no longer happy. Jessie almost began to weep. I jumped up and put my arms around her. Zakiya had succeeded in making Jessie ignore the loss of Sunny for a few moments. When Jessie looked upon my sorrowful face, with the death of Karl Moses still fresh in my mind, she thought I was thinking of Sunny. The anvil of grief returned to rest upon my heart. “Hey, what’s wrong? You looked like you were in a real good mood, until you saw me.”
“I was teaching Jessie to sing,” Zakiya explained when Jessie hesitated to reply. “I think she has talent. Did you ever sing with her, Sam?”
“Me? Sing?”
“He did!” Jessie forced herself to recover her composure, grasping at anything to pull herself up from despair. “He sang to me.”
“I don’t remember.” I wanted Jessie to continue thinking of something other than our baby. “What did I ever sing to you?”
“Love songs.” Jessie stretched out the word “love” for comic effect. She wiped her eyes and smiled up at me.
“Music was never of much interest to me. Are you sure about this?”
“You lie like a rug!” Jessie was playing the game with me, making her face feathers wave at me. She turned around in my arms and wrapped my arms across her stomach. I could see this pose as a classic for a man-woman duet and wondered where Jessie saw it. Some old movie?
Jessie tried to sing a tune which was popular in the 60’s - the 1960’s. The lyrics were wrong,
but that was because they were lyrics I composed when I was unable to remember the original lyrics. I sensed what Jessie was planning, and by the time she tapped me on the arm to join her, I had a copy of the original lyrics in my new intra-ocular database augmentation. I felt very selfconscious trying to sing in Zakiya’s presence, but I had nothing to prove. I just wanted Jessie to be happy for a few moments longer.
Jessie and I sang a verse of our duet, as I wondered what other songs we might try. I was surprised when Alex sang a tune from my era on Earth. He had an excellent baritone voice. Zakiya let him solo for a few measures, then she joined him.
“You should make a quartet,” Igor Khalanov suggested, having joined us between the fifth and sixth songs. “You have a good mix of vocal ranges.”
“Thank you, Iggy!” Zakiya declared. “What a wonderful idea!”
Dear Sunny,
I don’t know how much of this musical distraction went back to the Freedom by way of cryptikon. We were desperate to keep the pain of leaving you from overwhelming us. If you find yourself watching a recording of us singing and appearing to be happy, know that we were singing because of you, and that the cheerful mood never lasted long.
Perhaps singing is a boring thing for a young man your age. I wonder how old you’ll be when you first read this journal. Perhaps you’ll be quite young. Nothing bad has happened yet. If there are bad things ahead, please wait until you are more mature to read them. I won’t leave out the scary and violent parts - if there are any - but I urge you never to regard them as innocent adventure.
Fear hurts, violence hurts, and they change you forever - perhaps not for the better. Be a gentle person, if the universe will allow it.
Your Loving Father,
