”I’ve heard nothing about that.”
”Then you must be one of the few that the followers have not tried to entice with this beautiful vision of the future.”
”Evidently. But I must admit this procedure works quite pretty and attractive.”
”Aha, so you believe it?”
”It's difficult to question when you actually observe it happening.”
”But do you also believe the end of the world is nigh?”
”You know what, Dorrit, it has been like that for the past several thousands of years. In a wider perspective, the short period where people have had kind thoughts counts for nothing.”
The process of the souls' transfer to the spaceship took its time. It took place one at a time. There was a small seating between each, and there was, after all, several hundred souls going through this residence changing process.
Paragon was one of the last to be sucked up into the spaceship’s interior. The guards were left back on the asteroid. They were probably secretly driving the freight train back after several more souls, when there was a gap in the Heavenly Express' schedule, but first the Bastytjaks left in Limbo will probably capture some more souls.
How long had the Soul Service been losing soul material in this manner? Could it have lasted very long? One thing was certain. The Seventh Sky now had come to be part of the pattern, accounting for the exodus of souls. That process could have been going on for a long time in Limbo.
Paragon shuddered at the thought of what the long-term lack of supervision of Limbo could have caused.
Chapter 18
CRUISE SHIP
The spaceship's interior was designed aesthetically with clean lines, pastel colors on all surfaces and a simplicity in the appearance, that some would call futuristic. The only negative thing one might say about it, would be that the decor is too boring and predictable, and lacks visual challenges. It is without the curious detail of frilly elements that could get visitors to think 'It was actually quite interesting. To think that someone could imagine that. Well, that’s how you can also choose to do things'. Paragon would have preferred something of the sort.
He thought about his own dwelling at home. It had not occurred by chance, as its like was common in the places where people lived a lifetime, and perhaps even saved items from previous generations. There, surroundings grew automatically and got their looks gradually, evolving as time went by. In a way, it was also the most sympathetic way. It gave a natural personality to an environment. It showed a sense of belonging to a period and the conditions from which they descended. Such a thing was important. It signaled a certain calm and balance that felt comfortable to most people. Paragon appreciated that very quality.
The times he occasionally visited some of his colleagues, he always went round to see if there was something personal about the decor of their homes. Often that was not the case. Then, when he visited them later, things often looked quite different.
When asking why the interior had changed, he often got the answer that they were bored with the old decor, and had wanted to change it. They were simply tired of looking at the same old things, and had preferred something new.
”What about the old stuff?”
”We threw them out.”
”But didn’t you have a personal attachment to it?”
”What do you mean?”
”Well, something having to do with things being familiar and that you had to gotten used to them, or maybe they even reminded you of something pleasant in the past?”
”Oh, that? No, nothing much. It was more fun to get something else to look at. Change is good, you know.”
”I see.”
When Paragon asked how his official quarters should look, he didn’t know what to answer. The department of decoration was aware of that kind of uncertainty. You only know what you want, when you see it.
The interior architect had taken Paragon with him to the department's archives, where there was an entire wall unit with pictures of interior decoration and 60 volumes of 'Live Comfortable'. The display library had even more choices.
”Should it be the Victorian age or maybe French Empire? Art Nouveau or Renaissance? You can also get a monk's cell from the Middle Ages, if that would be more to your liking?”
”I really don’t...”
”Your style is probably more on the technical side. How about a bike shop? There is one here with gizmos and gadgets, oil cans and tools?”
”No, it looks too much like the place where I work.”
”I see. But what about this?”
The interior architect showed Paragon a living room with upholstered furniture and flowered wallpaper on the walls. There were checkered curtains and all kinds of trinkets on the shelves. Details just as Paragon preferred it. He pointed to a small item hanging on the wall.
”What’s that?”
”I think it’s a kind of souvenir. Let me see... Number 53. Yes, it is exactly. A small model of a clog but with a clothes brush inserted. On the clogs is a picture of a windmill and the words 'Holland'.”
”It looks funny.”
”Absolutely. This is Article 57 with some cowbells from the Black Forest. Same thing. Tourist Souvenirs. You bought them when you were on holiday. Very popular in what was called the 'post-war' period.
”I’ll have that one.”
So the decorators spent a good deal of time on organizing Paragon' lounge, living room and kitchen in that style. On the rare occasions when Paragon had people visit, they often found it hard to hide their discomfort.
”How crowded and old-fashioned. It’s hard to believe you can stand it, Paragon. I would get claustrophobic if I had to live in such a room filled with all kinds of trinkets. What's that?”
”Oh, it's a plywood model of a Viking ship. A while back, there were some drawings of it in a magazine. And one could also make this fruit tray out of plywood. It took me a few hours.”
”Unbelievable.”
”Yes, isn’t it?”
Paragon was then called back to reality by a comment from Anders.
”Where are we going?”
It was an obvious question, and Paragon was supposed to know more about the overlying systems, so maybe he knew something about this, too?
”I wish I knew, but I don’t. I had counted upon my incident plotter as a lifeline back to the Soul Center, but it’s reaching the limit of its range. I didn’t imagine we would start out on a journey out into space.”
The souls were allowed to roam throughout most of the space ship, since there was no danger they could disappear. They didn’t care though, because in a way they felt better here than they had for a long time.
Certainly, they had become detached from their self-imposed connection to Limbo, but they saw that now almost as a relief. Forced to think about something else, the changing surroundings helped in that process.
Paragon quietly went around and looked at the staff's routines and procedures. It all took place very peaceful, because everything worked almost fully automatically. The staff would probably look upon their work as being highly desirable. Of course, it could be standard living at the places from which they had come.
Paragon had not heard of such a clean society, and he was aware that he wouldn’t thrive there. But maybe there was talk about a higher level of development, which had laid behind many of the small everyday problems and annoyances?
It was something he had heard one could imagine as progress. On Earth, just after the Second World War, was a period where you had had an unbridled faith in the future and all its seemingly limitless options.
This naïve belief in progress was destroyed by the dubious choices and situations humans had foisted upon themselves and the globe. As time went by, they came to the realization that the Earth couldn’t handle such a luxurious lifestyle for everyone.
There were simply not enough resources for people to maintain that progression of unbridled consumption. They had come to realize that they
had to adopt a more frugal and responsible way of life, for the planet to continue to be a reasonable place for people to live.
It was, of course, a completely different direction to agree on a new common approach to pursue that goal, as no one was prepared to give up his personal property for the benefit of a diffuse improved ideal community sometime in the future.
The only place souls felt they were not allowed to enter was the spaceship's control room. It was also quite obvious. Of course no one would allow anything to disturb the trip. Clearly, there was a specific destination and a solid programming behind the abduction. In a way, it reassured Paragon.
If there had been talk about some kind of advanced vandalism, where outside forces would sabotage the entire system of soul management Paragon would have been more worried. Then you would not know what to expect, because destruction and disturbance would be the primary goal.
However, that situation didn’t seem to apply. This carefully crafted soul transport indicated there was something else going on. It was a high cost operation sending space vessels on long voyages in space, and the managers operating the mission would have to be in control over significant resources.
”It's hard to understand that rude and clumsy creatures like the Bastytjaks can control such a beautiful spaceship like this, with all its clean smooth surfaces and the beautiful accommodations.”
”Well, then look at yourself, Anders. You don’t look appealing, and you are probably not happy to be judged on your looks as the situation is right now.”
”You’re right, Paragon, yet it’s not easy to understand. What do you suggest?”
”I've been around and formed an overview of the ship. Right next to the control room is a storeroom, which offers access to the navigation area, and it borders the control room. I suggest we try to get into the depot space during the time in which they dim the lights to preserve a sense of our usual daily rhythm.”
”Can we do that?”
”I’ve observed the place. There’s no lock on the door to the depot compartment. The handle is just missing. Service staff has a simple twist with a transverse handle and the part they stick into the hole in the door is incredibly simple. I can open it with two nails.”
”But do you have two nails, Paragon?”
”My dear Anders, although my body has changed looks, I still have my overalls on, with the pockets filled with small machine parts, construction supplies, and tools. I am not a janitor and service man in the Seventh Sky for nothing.”
Paragon had watched staff routines, so at some point during the twilight period all three of them tiptoed to the depot compartment door. With his small pencil lamp, he had already examined the key cut, so he knew what tools he needed.
There were alarms associated with certain doors and gates in the vessel, but not to the depot space. Within a short time, the experienced Paragon opened the door and Anders and Dorrit followed him into the cubicle.
Pretty cramped since there was not supposed to be three people in the room at the same time, Anders knocked over a mop and a bucket.
”Be careful, Anders!”
”Sorry...”
Dorrit had to know.
”What are you doing now, Paragon?”
Paragon had removed a sign with rules of conduct, which hung on the room's opposite wall.
”I’ll try to make a hole in the wall into the navigation room with my cutter. There is no one in there right now.”
”Can you cut into the wall just like that?”
”We’ll know soon. I think it’s a thin partition of something resembling fiberglass or laminate. Yes, I was right.”
Paragon's utility knife worked. Quickly, he had carved a crack so they could twist the wall out of position and force their way through.
”Aren’t you going to cut on the opposite side of the opening?”
”No.”
When all three had pushed through, Anders understood why. The elastic material swung back into its original position, which was the smallest stress state within the material.
”If we push that console back towards the crack when we return, it will not be discovered. And on the other side, the sign with the house rules is hanging.”
It was dark in the navigation room, but green and yellow lamps lit it up around the different appliance control panels, so one could easily become oriented. Paragon spent a little time trying to find out the use of each instrument.
Dorrit and Anders were surprised. Sounds came from the next room. The door to the adjacent room, was ajar. It was the spaceship control room. It was not surprising to Paragon. In spite of all the fully automated machinery, the control room was always equipped to adjust the maneuvering of the vessel.
”Is it far yet?”
Then, even Paragon got surprised. Maybe he shouldn’t have been. But he was, nevertheless. In the next room, the crew was speaking in their language. Paragon had turned on his transmutator, as they passed through the opening from the depot, so inside the navigation room Paragon quickly muted the volume.
”What did you say?”
”I think there were some echoes?”
”There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong. Perhaps a feedback from the speakers?”
”Yes, maybe.”
”Well, what about the arrival time?”
”It will be sometime tomorrow afternoon, if all goes well.”
”And they have the fuel at the space station?”
”So they say. Maybe not the exact derivative, but it should be useable. It’s virtually impossible to find the fuel we are used to in this solar system.”
”But will that refueling be enough for the rest of the journey?”
”It should last until we reach Taurus X. And we must reload there, regardless.”
”So it will work out, then.”
Paragon and the others listened in the next room but in her eagerness to listen, Dorrit leaned on a console. However, it was equipped with wheels, so when she leaned forward, she inadvertently pushed it so hard that it rolled and bumped into another device. It made a sound, which was heard inside the control room next door.
”What was that?”
”Was it something inside the navigation room?”
”I didn’t hear anything.”
The one who had heard something just wanted to be certain.
”Is that you, Kvarkam?”
Paragon quickly turned the selector switch to its forward position.
”Yes, it's just me.”
”What are you doing in there at this time?”
”I am looking for a map.”
”Do you have to do that now?”
”No, I was just curious. About Taurus X.”
”There’s a map on the shelf right below the chart plotter. Is there something wrong with the monitor?”
”What was the password?”
”You should be able to remember. 'Fjankmol4'. Think of the Vice-Consul.”
”Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
”Not at all.”
Paragon turned the transmutator off and whispered.
”It's best you two go back the way you came. I’ll roll the console back to hide the crack.”
”What about you?”
Paragon took off his overalls.
”Take my pants along. I use the uniform jacket hanging on the chair. I might also use the cap.”
”You can’t walk out through the control room?”
”I have to. They expect Kvarkam is in here and will return the proper way.”
”Well yes, but then... good luck.”
”See you.”
”Yes, hopefully.”
Paragon stayed in the navigation room and investigated some things. Then he put the uniform jacket on and folded the collar up. He pulled the cap down over his forehead.
Then he slipped quietly out of the control room, where the two Bastytjaks sat in their high-back reclining seats with their backs turned and the instruments within sight.
> Paragon got the door pulled up. It opened inwards. He managed to get on the outside, before he said anything.
”Well, I’ll go back. Have a nice time.”
One of the Bastytjaks turned his chair.
”I think you sound like you have a little cold, Kvarkam?”
”Yes, I’ll go over and lie down.”
Take a grog with Blamsyl before you sleep. It usually helps.”
”I probably will. Good night.”
”Good night, buddy, and a speedy recovery.”
Chapter 19
SPACE STATION
”HXP 3773 requesting permission to dock.”
In the port office on the upper deck, the head of the approach control Dimitrius Donovan kept his three eyes on everything occurring around the space station.
”What’s this vessel?”
His assistant, Fyodor, had the task of calculating the spaceship maneuvering and check the records of Lloyds Universe.
Ever since the explosion of the tank vessel Belphegore Dock, Dimitrius had been fussy about the type of vessels approaching the space station ‘Limbo’. That naturally includes all vessels who had requested to dock. But the latter was a normal work procedure.
”I'm not quite sure. I have to look it up.”
”What happened to the good old names like 'Galactica' and 'Enterprise Ultra'?”
”I think they disappeared when space traffic exploded.”
”Not that word please, Fyodor.”
”Sorry, boss. I meant expanded.”
Dimitrius checked communication.
”They need a special fuel, Litvol Xtra, which we happen to have in stock. Where do they use that?”
”Not here in this solar system. I think it’s in one of the more distant nebulae.”
”Then maybe she's far away from home?”
”Now I’ve found it. HXP 3773 also nicknamed 'Kilkabaran'. It means something like a wing flier hovering long over the vastness of the ocean.”
Paragon- Ghost Hunters Page 15
