“As you wish, bitch.”
Anna whipped her head back up, surprised to hear it use that specific word again. Maybe she was feeling a little paranoid, but the back of her mind was contemplating the idea that the computer was intentionally using it. She knew the concept was impossible; the computer was incapable of responding emotionally. At least, that is what it told her repeatedly. Was it hiding something? After a few more seconds of pondering, she dismissed the idea and set to work removing the lights.
* * * * *
As lunch time approached, Anna contemplated going to lunch early, eager to get away from the monotonous task in Red-3. With only one set of lights remaining in the row she was currently working, she chose to finish before departing. She opened the translucent covering and reflexively turned her face away as some dark colored dust spilled from within the light fixture. Pausing for a second to allow the dust to clear, she removed the unused bulbs and closed the fixture again before leaving to eat.
Walking into the mess hall, Anna blindly moved toward the culinary system while attempting to brush some dark dust particles off the front of her white tank top, looking annoyed while she did.
“How could I have not noticed that much dust?” she muttered under her breath.
Finally giving up on the effort, she stopped in front of the interface and waited for the computer’s usual question. Several seconds went by, and the silence grew thicker.
“Uh, computer?” asked Anna curiously. “Are you hearing me?”
She waited a few more seconds, and the computer still did not respond.
“Respond to me by text.”
Her wristcomp instantly signaled an incoming message. Reading it confirmed that it had indeed heard and properly responded. “I am receiving your fucking questions, Anna. What would you like for lunch today?”
“Give me a chicken salad sandwich and mixed vegetables,” she sighed.
Glancing at the ceiling, she looked over the speaker to see if she could just bring in a ladder and fix it without trudging through a number of maintenance tunnels. But, the cover plate had no fasteners visible from below.
“I’m going to crawl around up there and fix the speaker while you prepare my lunch,” she added.
A couple of minutes later, Anna wriggled along the maintenance catwalk suspended just above the floor created by the mess hall’s ceiling. With only half a meter of clearance between the floor and the ceiling of this little-used crawlspace, she felt like a worm making its way between two large planks, and the mild feeling of claustrophobia coupled with the sparse lighting offered by the dim bulbs suspended on the metal beams holding the catwalk to the bulkhead above her head did little to help her move faster.
“I would gladly sacrifice a half-meter of head room from the mess hall just to get on my hands and knees right now!” she growled.
As she stopped to take a short breather, another message came in. Opening the screen, she read, “Your shitty lunch is ready, Anna, and you are about 3 meters from the damn speaker in the fucking mess hall.”
Anna replied frankly, “Thank you. I’ll feel much better once I get your speaker working again.”
She pushed herself along the metal grating, ignoring the mild, inconveniencing pain she felt from her weight pressing against the thin metal strips beneath her. All the while, she mumbled to herself, hoping that the only problem is a loose wire.
Finally reaching the location on the catwalk closest to the speaker, Anna rolled onto her side and assessed the situation. The speaker, fastened to the floor and barely visible from its position behind several heavy power cables that stretched along the length of the crawlspace, appeared to be in decent working order from her standpoint. But, its position between two of the dim bulbs cast just enough shadow over the area to make discerning details difficult at best. Using her flashlight, despite brightening the area, only revealed that the power cables were the true obstruction to her investigation.
Turning herself around, Anna moved toward the speaker to get a closer look, resting her weight on the power cables. Before she had a chance to study the inoperative item, the metal floor groaned underneath her weight, telling her to retreat back to the catwalk to avert a potential disaster. Confirming that the metal floor had bent from her added weight, she tried to lift the cables, only to find them secured to the floor as well. She prepared to fix the issue blindly from the catwalk, when she remembered her hand scanner. Slipping the scanner from its pouch, Anna recalibrated the device for its short-range visual setting, held it at arm’s length over the power cables and initiated the scan. Instantly, its tiny screen displayed the speaker with one frayed wire disconnected from the unit.
Smug with her correct estimate, Anna set the scanner on the catwalk and fished the laser cutter from its pouch. She scooted to the edge of the grating and stretched her hand toward the speaker, only to find that the unit was just out of reach with her fingertips barely brushing against the wires. She turned over and repositioned herself, but her efforts proved fruitless. After pondering the situation for a few seconds, she decided that she was going to have to make this repair blindly.
Reconfiguring the hand scanner to present live video feed, Anna turned on the laser cutter and held the end by the tips of her fingers. She tested her grip, which seemed feeble at best, but figured that she could hold it long enough to trim the disconnected wire. Picking up the scanner with her other hand, she set to work. Reaching over the power cables, Anna positioned the scanner to watch as her other hand moved toward the damaged wire. With a flick of her wrist, the speaker’s wire was cleanly cut away from the unit. The hand motion inadvertently caused the cutter to slip out of her fingers. Her mind processed the next series of events in slow motion. Anna watched in disbelief as the tool bounced off the metal plate below and sliced through one of the power cables, sending a shower of sparks over the speaker.
Then, the lights went out.
Chapter 9
Anna looked around her as the explosion of light quickly dimmed into nothingness, leaving her alone in the dark with only the glow of the scanner’s blank display as a light source. The expression on her face quickly shifted from surprise to frustration.
“God damn it!” she spat out as her wristcomp signaled an incoming message.
Staring darkly at the device on her wrist, she opened the screen and read the computer’s incoming message, “We have a complete power failure on Gray Level. You really fucked things up this time, Anna.”
“Tell me something I don’t know!” Anna yelled at her wristcomp before closing the holographic screen, submerging her in darkness again.
Grumbling as she turned off the hand scanner and returned it to its pouch, she drew the flashlight out and turned it on, blinking for a second from its intense light. She sighed aloud and crawled backward out of the tunnel.
Anna stepped into the corridor, guided only by the light from her flashlight. Having to override each hatch along the way, she had not realized until now just how many doors she passed through each day. She internally berated herself for being so careless around a main power cable and vowed to never do it again.
Storming into the mess hall, she holstered her still-active flashlight into its slot on her belt and headed directly to the culinary system. She hastily pulled her lunch from the slot and ripped half of the neatly-cut chicken salad sandwich off the plate as she set it atop the nearest table.
“If I’m going to fix my mistake,” she proclaimed with her mouth full of food. “I’m going to do it after lunch.”
Anna dropped into the closest chair and quietly but purposefully consumed her food. As she chewed, the full extent of the power loss slowly sank into her conscious mind. The silence surrounding her was deafening; she did not hear the hum of the lights, the rush of air blowing through the vents, or the occasional electronic beep from some computer system at work around her. The only sound reaching her ears was her breathing and eating.
The stillness around her disturbed her
a little, as she was not used to living in complete silence. Throughout her childhood in Seattle and her college days in New York, she had always heard some amount of background noise, whether it was from nearby traffic, voices in the next room, a computer or machine at work, or any other source that happened to pass through the area. Now, the lack of the familiar noise felt eerie in her mind, putting her on edge.
Anna closed her eyes and tried to pick up any sound she could. Nothing came to her, except a slight ringing in her ears. Desperate for something to break the intensity of the stillness, she picked up the fork setting on her tray and dropped it on the floor. The clattering of the light metal on the industrial plating beneath her feet broke the silent elephant in the room. With a sigh of relief, she took another bite of her sandwich, and retrieved the fork.
Stopping with the fork barely off the floor, Anna stared at the speckled patch of dust that had spilled on her earlier. The dark stain initially perceived on her white tank top now emanated with a soft blue glow.
“What the?” she wondered as her eyes grew wide, her words spoken slowly as she stared at the luminescence on her chest. Cautiously, she sat up, set the fork on the table, and examined her tank top closer. Pulling the shoulder strap and breast of the garment away from her skin, she found that the spots on the white material were not “spots” but actually minute holes. With growing concern, she looked underneath the clothing. As she suspected, the glowing dust had penetrated the strap of her tank top and settled on her skin.
“Crap!” Anna stated urgently. She started to bolt from the mess hall for the infirmary. But, she stopped short, remembering the infirmary had no power like the rest of Gray Level. Determining that power had to be restored before she could be thoroughly examined and, if necessary, treated, as that was not going to be an immediate fix, she pulled out her hand scanner, recalibrated it, and scanned the deposits on her skin. The readout indicated that the dust was emanating mild levels of Beta-minus radiation. Surprised that she was not feeling any side effects of her direct exposure to the radiation as of yet, she decided to not take any chances and repair the power cable as quickly as possible.
Dashing to the repair bay, Anna gathered the materials needed to repair the power cable and speaker and returned to the crawlway. Along the way, she grabbed a spare metal plate meant for the station’s outer hull and a mirror she removed from the head of one of the spare cabins. After setting the hull plate on the edge of the catwalk and laying down on it to get her closer to the damage, she removed the head from her flashlight, allowing it to function like an electric candle, and propped the mirror against the wall on the other side of the speaker, giving her a better view of the damaged power cable. Seeing herself in the mirror, she pulled aside the shoulder strap over her irradiated skin again for a second and noticed that the blue glow disappeared when bathed in visible light, appearing as it had before like nothing more than dark spots of dirt on her skin. She knew better than to think that the risks due to radiation were not there anymore; firming her resolve to get the power restored right away.
Working by mirror proved challenging for Anna, as she had to stop herself a time or two from grabbing the wrong part of the cable or moving something in a different direction than she had intended. Perseverance prevailed, and Anna managed to restore power to Gray Level within an hour. She could not help but smile when the dim lights in the crawlspace glowed again. With the lights restored, she quickly spliced the speaker wire, packed her tools, and rushed directly to the infirmary.
“Computer!” cried Anna as she hurried into the white, sterile room and removed her tool belt. “I need you to examine my left shoulder for radiation effects.”
“As you wish, shithead.”
Rolling her eyes, she proceeded to the nearest empty bed and waited for her examination to begin.
A few minutes later, the robotic arms of the medical drone retracted back into the ceiling, and Anna slipped the shoulder strap of her tank top back over her shoulder. She glanced down at the dust that now appeared to be embedded into her skin and sighed aloud.
“Anna,” the computer began. “The diagnosis indicates that the damn dust on your skin has exposed you to 56 millisieverts of Beta-minus radiation so far. While this poses no immediate threat to your fucking health, the radiation should be neutralized to avoid any potential health risks.”
With a nod, she replied grimly, “I agree. Let’s get it done.”
“I need to add that the source of this radiation appears to be unknown. To ensure that you are fully protected and to take measures to prevent this fuckup from occurring again in the future, the dust should be studied.”
Anna nodded again and said, “That makes sense. How do you propose doing that? It looks like the dust is slowly digging into my skin.”
“Neutralizing the radiation should stop the burrowing process, but doing so will alter the dust’s composition and prevent any study from being effective. Extracting the dust along with a damn graft of your skin should allow it to be removed most efficiently and permit optimized conditions for examination.”
Balking at the suggestion, Anna asked, “You want to take a chunk of my skin along with the dust?”
“Yes, cunt.”
“Okay!” she erupted fiercely. “That’s it! I know I told you to add swear words to your statements, but you can at least try to address me by my name instead of derogatory names like that. I don’t appreciate being called ‘bitch’ or ‘cunt’ or anything else like it! In fact, just forget the whole thing!”
“Do you wish to rescind your request, asshole?”
“Yes!”
“The request has been terminated, Anna.”
“Thank you. Now ...
“I was not aware that certain curse words would offend you, Anna.”
Still fuming, she replied, “Maybe I should have been more informative of that.
“Now then, what am I supposed to do in the meantime after you take a piece of my skin?” she questioned defensively, crossing her arms while she spoke.
“You will be kept in the infirmary while you recover from the extraction.”
“Just how long will that be?!”
“With a tertiary intention, the initial stage of healing will commence over four to five days before ...”
“Four to five days?!”
“Yes, Anna. At that point, the ...”
“Now wait a minute! I am not going to lie in the infirmary for almost a week, because you want to play ‘scientist’ with my skin!”
“The dust should be studied ...”
“Nope! It ain’t gonna happen with MY skin!”
“Are you aware of any other sources of dust for examination?”
“As a matter of fact,” Anna pointedly stated. “Yes. There is a big pile of this dust in Red-3 that didn’t hit me and landed on the floor. You can play with that all you want. Right now, treat this radiation in my shoulder, and let me get back to work!”
“As you wish, Anna. Please lie down and present the infected area.”
She lied down and slipped the strap off her shoulder, exposing the dark-colored dust. Seconds later, the medical drone returned to her bed, extending one of its artificial limbs toward her with a hypodermic syringe fixed to the end. The drone administered several injections around the dust deposits, the first two of which did not bother Anna at all. Each one after that seemed to be more painful than the one before. By the time the drone had finished, her entire shoulder was sore.
The computer instructed as Anna sat up, “You have received the first set of injections designed to neutralize the radiation emitted from the foreign particles in your skin. You will need to return to the infirmary in about six days to receive the next series of injections.”
Replacing the strap of her top back on her shoulder, she inquired, “How many sets of injections do I need to neutralize it?”
“As long as the dust remains on your skin, you will need to receive the injections indefinitely.”
&nbs
p; A look of intense disbelief appeared on her face as she stared skeptically at the ceiling. While her hands emphasized her emotions, she asked intensely, “Can’t I just take a shower and wash it off?!”
“Introducing the dust into the station’s water supply is not advised, Anna. You could ...”
Anna slid off the medical bed and, snatching her tool belt from where she laid it, stormed out of the infirmary while sternly proclaiming, “I’m going to take a shower. The filtration system should be sufficient to prevent the dust from being recycled through. After that, I will get you a sample of the dust for your research.”
“Anna,” the computer began.
“Shut up! And, fuck off!”
“As you wish, Anna.”
Anna cleaned the dust from her skin fairly easily, but removing its aftereffects proved to be more difficult than she expected. Even though the dust particles had been washed away, a dark residue remained in the tiny pockmarks on her shoulder. Despite her efforts to eliminate its presence, the residue seemed to be permanently etched into her skin.
After finishing her shower and dressing in a new set of clothes, Anna hastily returned to the infirmary with a frustrated expression on her face.
“Computer!” she bellowed. “I need you to check my shoulder again!”
“As you wish, Anna.”
The medical drone maneuvered around and scanned her skin again. This time, the examination was brief, lasting only a few seconds.
“Anna, the examination is complete. Readings indicate that the residue left behind by the dust particles has permanently attached itself to the surrounding skin cells. The amount of radiation emanating from it has significantly reduced to 3 microsieverts per hour.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad,” noted Anna.
“Your observation is correct. However, prolonged exposure will continue to increase the amount of radiation absorbed by the surrounding tissue. At the current rate, you will build up the same amount of radiation recorded from your previous examination in approximately 2 years, 47 days, and 1 hour.”
Alone on the Edge (The Chronicles of Anna Foster) Page 9
