by Mack Meijers
I finally learned to listen, because the universe forced me to. Instead of learning my lesson, it's judged me. No appeal.
End Record
Warfare in space is missing family. It's about them.
— Masters At Arms Anonymous
Chapter 21
Mode Record
Anyone who has ever met me has always told me I was stubborn, too much even, for my own good. For a long time that was probably true. Growing up, even if rather late, I think it should not stand in my way, but serve as an instrument of my own choice.
I decide. My life. And it has been a good life. Not an easy one, but I have known beauty, I have had good experiences. And now that I have torn my own veil from most of them, I do have good memories. Fond ones. I understand the choice the people in Medical came to make now.
I realise I will never see mum and dad again, or anyone else I ever knew. It's fine, it is as it is. I've decided to figure out what I found in the network library and put together a crude transmitter. I found a way to hook it up to the remains of a now toothless weapon system. I'll send it out behind me, it's capable of traversing beyond that ever more distant sun.
Mum gave me that idea. She told me once about a truly ancient story, from the days when we were still bound to a single world. How man felt so alone that it made an art of listening to the sky, until it got frustrated, stomped its foot on the ground and decided to send a message of his own. Voyager's Tale. A message of mankind, forever heading out among the stars. Calling its name, bringing gifts of music and our other arts.
Always liked that story. I don't know if it's true, I don't really care if it isn't. It's a good story, and it was my mum's.
The events here, my waking, my lessons. They will be a bubble of information slowly passing through this system.
Maybe someone will pick up the signal.
A message from a ghost.
My choice.
End Record
Warfare in space is accepting choices. Yours, and of those around you.
— Masters At Arms Anonymous
Chapter 22
Mode Record
My little Voyager is on its way, slowly, and struggling. It will be some time still before it passes out of range of my armour's systems, it's slow and very limited. Even in its attempts of deceleration it's going to stay with us for quite some time. Sometimes I connect, update the data store, and listen to it. I have changed, a lot. I've become myself. But at a cost.
I won't be coming home dad, but I am taking the one you built with me. And while I didn't grow up to be just like you, I did learn from you. Even though I know it never looked that way, I truly did.
And mum, I made a home. I know you wanted many things for me, but above all just that. A place to rest, on your own, to share with others. A place not of work, but of memory and joy and where pain is alright to show.
I realise it may still be hard to understand, I hope you can forgive me, I had to know that I could be myself. And I will, maybe also just by myself, but not really on my own. If I could I would stay, but even though I am no longer in my own way I just can't. I do not have that choice. So I'll be here, staring in the distance. Looking back, forward and around me.
I hope you both know that I did grow up to be myself, and just like you. The universe has a way of teaching lessons, harshly sometimes, but perhaps I gave it no other choice.
I don't know if Dante ever did tell you about your daughter dad, I like to think he did. The universe is not just physics, there is something underneath that binds, something of a very different kind than mere calculations. I'm sorry he and I never had the time to fully meet, but I am thankful for the chance. And his gift.
I found out the rest of what Dante was trying to tell me. Another old tale, a saying, but one with truth in it. At a constant 1G acceleration a traveller will be able to traverse the universe in a single lifetime. In a way it is a shame, I don't have that luxury. It would be nice, seeing all the wonders of the universe before I die. Unfortunately this ship is not that kind of traveller, though I would not have it that way. There is another way.
Dante gave me ideas to mull about, once I figured out the remainder of his message. My stubbornness is my own, I think he recognised that, and used it to make me think. Took a while, but I did.
So, I am going to sleep for a while, it's only a few thousand years until a next solar system reaches out to us with its gravitational fields, after that another. And so on. Medical is one key, my armour's stasis mechanism is one more and my choice is yet another.
Working my armour's system with information from the core, in relative terms it won't be that long until this ship finds it way back within the arms of one of man's oldest domains. We've moved on beyond those reaches, but life still exists there. The shepherds built to last, someone will be there. Maybe it won't still carry the name of Vega, that doesn't really matter anyway.
Maybe the universe will have seen by then that I have learnt my lessons, and perhaps I will then find a way to be myself for not just me, but for those around me. My life is not my own, I understand. Somehow I know this, deep inside me. But perhaps one day it can be there for others, who might need it, or just welcome it.
Oh, and mum, I've built another little Voyager. It can't travel on its own, so I will just keep it with me on the ship. Crude maybe, limited certainly, but it will function as required. Hailing stars along the way, playing music, and sharing what I know. I know you're crying, but this might just bring a smile. A message from your daughter, carrying herself along. From time to time I'll wake, and change the tune. In the mean time I'll continue coasting, one more long step on my way.
Goodbye, both of you. I love you dearly. I will miss you, but we'll always have our home,
— Sofia
End Record
About the author
I hope you enjoyed this story. If you have the chance, I would greatly welcome a review - it's appreciated, very much so.
My name is Mack, and I enjoy reading science fiction to a point where one day I picked up old stories written long ago and started writing science fiction again.
I tend to be a bit of a private person - in the sense of valuing privacy - but I do maintain a blog and I roam around on Twitter as well as a few other places such as Goodreads. I welcome you to check in, to have a word and I always like to hear what readers think and want.
I'm a sociologist by training, originally. Expanding later on into psychology and economics. Sometimes these are fields that bring something to the stories, but not always.
I should warn you though, the characters I create can and do die. They are human after all. Not redshirts. My stories have a tendency to explore science fiction as an instrument of observing human development, extrapolating possible scenarios, digging holes and observing my characters climb out - or not. Most of the time I write the story from the eyes of one or more characters, giving the reader their private thoughts, recordings, their diaries.
The stories I write tend to play out in the fictional universe in my head known as Of Suns And Spheres. It's a pretty dark place. One where mankind has known its share of troubles during the course of its history. A universe where we have come to a point where cataclysms force our lessons on us. In Of Suns And Spheres denying the lessons from repeating the same mistakes every time no longer works.
If you'd like to know more, or engage in discussion, feel free to find me online. And if you happen to come across interesting science fiction stories, let me know, I am always looking to read more.
— Mack
Credits
Writing this was an interesting experience, I would not have been able to get it all done without quite a few things:
My father, no longer with us but remembered.
S, D, E, C and A. May they forgive me.
The patience of the cat frequenting my house as if it were his own, resisting the temptation to sleep on the keyboard when I was writing.
The many authors of science fiction who
fed my brain and heart when I was younger, and who continue to do so now that I am older. From the very old, to the very young. From the published, to the self-published.
— Mack
true
