by Peter Riva
26
EVEN IF I DIED
I had died once, or rather I was about to die and then was moved to a new body. Rebirth? Hardly. Continued life with a purpose or just not being speeded up before I died? What I could not explain to the doctors, Cramer, and most of all not to Aten was that although I didn’t want to die I certainly did not want to start all over again. Rejuvenation was okay, so was medical stem-cell regeneration of body parts, not least of which was the body’s largest organ, the skin. Looking youthful was the norm, even among the crew. But all my human abilities of judging my fellow crewmembers were out of whack—who was an adult, who was seriously old and, therefore, wise? And, most embarrassingly, who was the right partner for me sexually? In my pre-teen body, with hormones already kicking in, I found it hard to be interested in anyone under what I thought was around thirty-five. And those that looked thirty-five could have been a hundred and five. Who could tell?
Now, I’m not ageist and I am certainly not sexist. But I am old enough to want to share with my partner, whatever race, creed, or orientation. Sharing means having something in common. Angie had been perfect for me. Beautiful and sexy beyond my league, certainly, but of similar age, experience and, well, evolution. Maybe that’s what was wrong, I could not judge properly anymore, so it was easier to say no to everything.
I envied Cramer, younger than ten and happily sharing his life with Aten, who was over 100. Okay, she looked eighteen, stuck at that age, I get that, but I wondered if Cramer had not already been thirty-five in his head if he’d have been as keen.
As the doctors worked for the next week on the harness and sensors, Cramer, Aten, and I had time together. One evening over dinner, the ceiling lights of the Forward Cafe dimmed to simulate dusk, the conversation got around to dreams and desires for planet fall. For me, that was so far away that I hardly said anything. I was listening to Aten, pretty and cute little Aten, telling her macho mate, all of nine plus years, what and how they would share the new world together.
“Depending on the levels of life already there, I’m hoping we can start as if it is a Garden of Eden, pure, clean, and open for sharing with whatever life forms are there. We can stake out land to grow our garden, real vegetables, real fruit. Maybe some of the embryos on board can be spared to give us cows, goats, and chickens.” Aten suddenly smiled, “I had eggs once before we left. They were wonderful, my mouth watered as I ate them, they seemed so perfect.”
Cramer was smiling, “Hon, eggs it is. Now goat’s cheese, that’s something you have to try. Not the synth stuff here,” he held up his hands as Aten was about to protest, “Which is good, I don’t mean anything. But real, fresh goat’s cheese. I used to have it every day in St. Petersburg for lunch. Any way it’s served, it’s damn good.”
For the next few minutes, they reviewed flavors, food dreams, and plans for a farm of sorts. It was Aten who came up with the energy issue. “We really can’t allow the PowerCube to be monopolized. We all need to share it or not share it at all, but keep it in reserve.”
Cramer had clearly been thinking about this, “If we do make landfall—and remember we’re not sure yet if the land is habitable or if we have to stay afloat—anyway, my idea is that we use the ship as a castle if we make land. Leave the PowerCube there, for anyone to link up to, that’s all right, but the castle is there for refuge for all, equally. We can all make our homes outside, build our dreams, our farms,” he smiled warmly at Aten. “But we need to think strategically. We don’t know if there are dangers, weather patterns we need to shelter from, solar flares that could kill us, tides, floods, volcanic activity, earthquakes—heck, I don’t know, maybe something new. Having a safe haven makes sense.”
Aten agreed and abruptly changed the subject causing Cramer to spit out his coffee, “How many children should we have?” I had been waiting for this eruption. As Aten had not yet come to me for the sex talk, I assumed they had sorted it out. But family planning might be a little tricky for Cramer. He takes responsibility seriously for everyone aboard. For a family of his own? Hard to imagine the strength of his protective mechanisms when it came to kids of his own.
Cramer put his cup down, turned it around and around on the tabletop, saying nothing. Aten folded her arms, waiting. Finally, I said, “Well?”
He stared at me. “So, what is it you are thinking? Becoming a doula?” Cramer wasn’t angry at me, more likely annoyed for being put on the spot.
Aten said, “That’s not a bad idea. He did it once, for me.” That solicited a harrumph from Cramer. Aten pressed him, “What? You were perhaps thinking we’d have no children?”
Locking his eyes on his wife, the little boy raised his arms level and said, “Hon, I’m a kid. I am capable up here,” he tapped his head, “But become a father, not yet. I need time to become an adult. And besides, can’t we delay that decision, just a little?”
Aten got serious, “No we can’t. I want to know if you plan on fathering children with me.”
I rose and asked if it was time for me to leave and they both grabbed a sleeve and made me sit down.
Cramer laughed a little and tried to put Aten at ease, “Okay, I give. Look, as it is—things,” he looked at his lap, “aren’t quite up to much yet. So I’m not sure if I can …” Aten started to speak and he cut her off, “Okay, okay, yes, the docs say it’ll be fine when I grow up, but a decision to have loads of children has to be made when we’re ready, settled, on planet.” And then he quickly added, “Or if Simon is right, if we’re stuck here for a while. Either way, we, you and me hon, will make the decision together.”
Aten had seized on a phrase he had used, “Loads of children? Thinking of starting a large family are we?”
Cramer smiled, “Oh, well, at least four. But if you play your cards right, and this …” he looked down at his lap again—“works like before, four could be the minimum.”
Aten stood, picked up her napkin, and threw it at him, “Chauvinist.” Cramer laughed, so did she as she said, “But if you think I’m not holding you to that, four children is the minimum, you don’t know me very well.” And off she walked, with that little Meg Ryan walk, playing it for all it was worth. She made it to the door before his wolf whistle startled the other diners.
The next day I caught up with the progress on the harness and ear node connection the docs wanted to synch with for hearing levels. It hurt a little as they played tones, very loud tones, but in the end, they were satisfied.
I wasn’t.
All this hardware they were preparing was too much work for me to handle on my own. I needed to concentrate on getting deep into the hydra jellyfish brain and out safely. If I had told them how deep that Apollo and I had discussed that I was going to go, they might have realized that, like last time I went to a higher level, I was completely devoid of any sensation, except my thoughts. I kept that to myself.
What I wanted was a Mary, my old coworker at the System interface, an operator handling all the links and recordings, someone who could tell them what the recordings meant when and how I did what I was planning to do. Except for Abadine, and she didn’t have in-system experience like this, there was no one I knew who would be capable.
Except Cramer. He’d been in System with me. He’d understand the feeds, he’d be able to translate for Aten …
Wait a minute, Aten. She’d be capable as well. So leaving the hospital, I made my way to her office, asking a dog along the way to find Cramer and Zip and tell them to go to Aten’s office. Why didn’t I use my sleeve? Didn’t wear one. Hardly ever did.
I wasn’t against the device, it had its uses. You could track anyone, replay vids, even link to the ship computer for searches and information. But wearing one made me always feel accessible, crowded, and, especially, stupid, lacking brain exercise. I preferred to carry questions, worries, and thoughts myself. Later, in my little bedroom, I could always transcribe them or record them if I needed to remember anything long-term.
I got to Aten’s office abo
ut the same time as Zip and Cramer. “Aten, I had a thought. Do you remember Mary?”
“Mary from the office at Systems?”
“Yep, that’s the one. How about this—the docs are making a harness to record all they can from me. And I am wearing the node that links back to you. How about we hook all that up to the main computer and monitor it from here, you and Cramer both. He knows what it means to be in-System; you know what it’s like to be the System. Between you, you should be able to interpret the data and, maybe, help me out.” They were looking at each other, then at me, and nodding. “Okay, then listen to another idea. I am not speeded up. I was in there for what seemed like hours and hours, but it was less than three, right?” They nodded again, “So, if I send you a message, as slowly as I can, perhaps it’ll come to you speeded up, a little, but you can replay the message almost in quarter time if I have calculated properly.” Aten agreed. “And, here’s my real idea …” I paused for effect. “If I implant a second ear node,” I tapped the left side by my ear, “Apollo should be able to talk to you. Playback from you to me is possible if you record something and speed it up …” I shook my head, “No, scratch that. Apollo can change the speed at his end. You respond to him and he’ll handle the rest.” I sat down on the couch, “What do you think?”
Of course, they loved it. Aten wanted so badly to speak to her twin, and Cramer wanted to be in on the front line of our excursion. I know I had pandered to their base needs, taken advantage even a little. But the truth was, I wanted the backup, and if I didn’t make it out, I needed these two and Apollo to be able to determine why and what that meant for them all.
I had forgotten Zip, of course. Zip walked over to me, placed his teeth over my hand, and grabbed hold, careful not to break the skin. Not fair. Smart dog.
I thought, I know.
Zip wagged his tail, and as he let go and walked past me said, You me care too.
I wasn’t sure if he meant he cared about me or was empathizing that he also cared about them as well. Either way, I knew Zip understood the need to give them a role. Cramer had an odd look on his face, but I paid no attention. Aten said there was work to do and she called up Doc Todd and explained the need for another node. Cramer said he’d walk to the hospital with me while Aten continued her discussion with Todd on how the link would now have to be hooked into the main computer portal in her office.
Time to get this done and ready. I had other dimensions to visit.
27
A PROSPECT OF UGLY WALLPAPER
A day later I was ready but the computer hookup took a little longer. The problem stemmed from isolation of data. Aten was worried any data coming in from me could, if it carried any octal code, infect the ship’s main computer. She solved this with a one-way controller. Data coming in was routed to a server memory annex and once there, could not be accessed on the main frame. As Aten described it, the retrieval and decoding would be done on an away-portable unit, self-contained. “I can access everything through this unit and stay away from the mainframe, which is acting only as a pipeline, one way, to the memory annex.” She tested it, purposely wrote an octal code version of my swap FAT file program, and it ran safely.
I pocketed a copy of her octal version of my swap tomatoes program.
Aten had other worries as well, “Look Simon, we’ve got wires running all over the place now. None of this hook-up to your harness can be laser or wireless radio signals, we need uncorrupted signal, which may not replicate, so each bit will be original, or treated that way as priceless.” I wanted to know why this was a problem. “Problem? Not really,” she responded, “but all of these connections are temporary, and with the spinning of the ship, the jury-rigged swivel couplings in the flight deck entry cylinder may not have a very long shelf life. Half of those swivel connections we’re using, for the most important connections, are pilot communications’ circuits. At some point, we’ll need to recapture those, especially if there’s an emergency. We may have to cut you off, so if you hear me telling you to exit, you must exit.” She paused, “What I am saying is please try and make this work quickly, for the safety of the ship and yourself, okay?”
She made a good point, but I needed to help her feel more assured, more confident. “Look Aten, if you are speaking to Apollo, if that works, he’ll keep an eye on everything—what I’m doing and what you need to be changing or recording. Apollo can handle monitoring. If you are not able to talk with Apollo, then I’m likely to be coming back quickly anyway.” She started to say something, but I cut her off, “Relax Aten, we have got this. The ship is number one and I won’t forget that.” Of course, I did have the ship’s safety as a number one priority providing everyone understood that Earth’s safety came before the safety of everyone on board, Aten included. Had she known what I knew about Earth’s timetable, she would have agreed. I was fairly certain of that. Well, certain enough.
I had not told anyone about the schedule to Earth’s destruction for a reason. And Apollo knew I wouldn’t. Why worry people over something they can do nothing about? Yes, the Path meant I should tell the truth, but part of the Path means to do no harm. Until the people on board could actually do something about the threat posed to earth, I felt I was on the Path not sharing the danger with them. Either I would talk to the Vast Pattern, or whomever, and get the solar flare order reversed or I would fail and Earth would be doomed. There was one other possibility to my next encounter with the hydra and the only person I needed to discuss that with was Doc Todd. I asked Zip to find him and bring him to my quarters.
“You wanted to see me Simon?” Todd was casually dressed, off duty as I knew he would be.
“Thanks, Zip, see you later.” And Zip padded off. “Doc, tomorrow I’m going in system, into the hydra, the Vast Pattern. And I need a personal promise from you. No questions asked, no revealing this to anybody …”
“That’s not fair, nor is that a promise I can keep from my crewmates. We’re on the Path …”
“Yes, I know, and that’s why I need you to promise so they can live out their lives on the Path. One person needs to know, one person needs to carry out my instructions if I fail or even if I succeed but can’t come back. I cannot ask Cramer or Aten because they do not have your skill set. You are the only one on board who can do this for me if I don’t come back … who can save the crew and this flight.”
“You are asking me to break the trust …”
“No, I’m not, just hold this as a secret for a while. I am asking you to man up and place the needs of everyone above your own comfort. If I don’t make it back, everyone will know and then you can reveal what we discussed and what I made you promise, but until then you must swear to keep it secret.”
He was pensive for a moment. “So, I am not really lying to anyone, just not being forthcoming until necessary?” I nodded. “That is a role as a surgeon I can make. We do that every time we perform a procedure. We tell the patient what he or she needs to know—but just enough, never lying—to ease fears and restore calm—calm necessary for the patient to relax and allow us to perform at our best.” He had clearly rationalized his approval. Settling himself comfortably, he leaned forwards and said, “Okay, then, what’s the secret? I’ll keep it safe and private, I promise.”
“It is likely that I may die out there.” He looked shocked. “No, not physically but I may become so removed from my physical body that I may appear to be dead. And here comes the tricky part. If that’s the case, no one, and I mean no one must be allowed to permanently disconnect the dome wires. I will need …”
He was very agitated, “How the hell can we keep you alive out there? If you are dead, as you say, then we have only hours of oxygen to revive you and we cannot do that in space, we cannot sustain you out in free space … what you ask is impossible.”
I had thought about this, he needed to listen and agree. “Doc, to put someone in hibernation all you need are a few things, right? A safe environment, very low levels of O2, extreme cold, gel support
packing, and your special blood serum. Right?” He nodded. “Okay then, if I lose consciousness and appear lifeless, I will not be dead at all if there is any—and I mean any—Glasgow mental scale in evidence, accepted?” He nodded. “Then please accept that I’ll be out there, but I’ll have left my body behind. All you have to do is leave the dome in place, have them bring me back in, have them run this patch cable to the inflatable outside,” I passed him the coil of wires that engineering and I had prepared, sort of a long extension cord, “plug it into the connection, run it back through the Ferrofluidic airlock into the below flight deck compartment and re-hook me as quickly as possible. There, below the flight deck, stick me into a hibernation bag, nice and cold, pump my body full of your serum and leave me be.”
“What then? If we disconnect you while you are not in your body, won’t that kill you?”
“Maybe, but I’d be dead anyway without O2. My only chance of coming back would be to have a pathway to my body. And by the time Apollo and Aten have talked and Aten and Cramer have figured out if it is safe to proceed to Angelica, well, wake me up if we make planet fall—if you can.” Neither of us said anything for a moment. Doc Todd was trying to weigh the medical side. I was waiting for the next obvious three questions.
“And if you don’t come out of it?” There it was, the first question. Nothing I could do to avoid it.
“Try and find a nice burial place for me on Angelica.”
Todd looked dejected. And the second one—“Why, why are you doing this?”
“Apollo told me Gaia has received instructions that all life on Earth is going to be terminated within two and a half years. I am the only one who can go into this system and try to talk to the Vast Pattern and ask them, it, to stop. That’s the danger we all face. Not a tough decision for me. Would it be for you?”
