Mother said, “God doesn’t interfere with the lives of his creations.”
The other adults at the table gasped, each casting a glance toward Sera who remained as motionless as a manikin in our commissary.
I felt about to burst with joy or freedom or some jubilant emotion. Until now, I had never experienced any open reference to the existence of God. I yelled, “God exists.” Sera’s eyelids did a single ripple and I panicked.
“No, dear.” Betty touched my hand. “Your mother just used a childhood expression.” She addressed the cellulous and silicone creature immobile in the chair across from me. “The Realm is our only higher power.”
Paul said, “I guess that about sums up our situation. Either we place our future in an abstraction, or we turn Sera back on.”
“Could you and the other men operate our habitat?” Mother paused. “It is a machine.”
Paul’s complexion changed from his usual ruddy to ghostly. He didn’t need to respond for us to know his answer.
“With technical help from Earth?” Dad added, his expression hopeful.
“Two year intervals between communications,” I reminded the group.
Paul’s color returned a blotch at a time. “Mission One is a self contained biosphere and could support life indefinitely, if the fusion cells continued to operate. However, our present Mission Two is a total technological wonder. A slight blip in the computers could disrupt the production of air, water, and food. All of our systems need continuous monitoring. We won’t know for sure if we’ve cut the head off the snake until a problem occurs.”
“Like our life support system?” Betty’s concern permeated the group. “Our very existence is in your hands.” She glared at me. “Turn that thing back on!”
“I think my wife is right. We can’t exist without our main computer.”
“Please, not just yet.” I wanted to experience a few more moments of freedom. Or doom? “Let’s take advantage of the opportunity to speak freely.”
“Ariel is right.” Paul agreed. “One hour. Things should operate smoothly for at least that long. I need to inform Frank of our mutual predicament.”
“Did Sera control his part of the operation as well?” Mother asked. “Perhaps they have their own super droid.”
“For all we know, we might have lost all contact with Frank’s people, the thousand folks on Mission One, and with Earth itself.” From Betty’s glare, I felt sure she blamed me.
“I’m going to contact Frank immediately.” Paul spoke into his right shoulder like in the cop shows I watched. “No reason to continue with that absurd code.”
“Frank, can you hear me?”
Frank’s voice, “Yeah, what’s up?”
“Are you experiencing any unusual problems at your end?”
“Nothing unusual.” The voice held an edge. “Why?”
“The Realm is dead.”
As was the voice on the other end.
Paul continued his pause for at least a minute. “See what I mean? The sky didn’t fall.”
“Our Realm is aboard your hemisphere.” The voice quivered. “Damn it! You shut her down?”
Fear and anger overwhelmed me. Frank knew all along Sera had been promoted to Realm status.
Paul’s blotches merged into a single flame. “Frank, what do you know about our situation?”
“About as much as you seem to have discovered. Now turn our Realm back on or we’re all dead.”
“Not until we get some things settled. I want to know exactly what your involvement is.”
“Fire away with the questions, so we can get our habitat active again.”
Paul asked, “Why are you privy to inside information?”
“For the exact contingency that seems to have occurred on your side of things. Now turn her back on.”
“Not so fast. Do you have direct access to the Realm on board Mission One?”
Silence, and I feared Frank had ended the communication.
“Like what?”
“Like as a spy.”
“I don’t know what you mean?”
“I’m not sure I do either, but a picture is beginning to form. Who or what is our connection to the Realm back on the comet?”
“Sera, which you have somehow deactivated,” Frank’s tone acidic.
“Just temporarily. What is your role between us and them?”
“I’m sort of a back up for situations like the one you guys just created.”
“You can establish contact with the original Realm?” Paul asked.
“It communicates with me through my computer only when my input is required.”
“Wouldn’t losing its connection with us warrant a call to you, their in-house spy? Either it doesn’t care or you are out of the loop.”
Another silence, and in the background the humming and clicking of a computer failing to make contact.
Paul said, “I don’t know if you can comprehend this, but you’ve been duped.”
“I doubt that.”
“I’m going to reactivate our Realm, but first I want you to listen carefully. All of our lives may depend on what we decide at this exact instant.”
Betty’s expression relaxed and she held her husband’s hand.
“Nine of us couples set out on a quest to discover God, or I should say, rediscover God. It seems more than just a coincidence that those same families were selected to occupy the hastily developed fortieth floor apartments, since scheduled to be demolished.” Paul glanced between the adults as if seeking permission to continue. “We met as a nameless group in free space under the guise of a wife-swapping club, something the Realm considered ordinary. Somehow, we were discovered and brought together like a cyst on my ass, isolated with bile until ready to burst. You, my friend, were the token catalyst sent to join our group and cause the boil to rupture. You and Albert were promised special authority over the rest of us, but we caught on to you. We adopted a group name, Fortieth League, and officially became a social club. We abandoned our primary topic of discussion whenever you were present. You never understood our secret crisscross hand gesture. It became apparent you had no inkling about our quest for a divine creator, which means the Realm hadn’t been attuned to our goals either.”
Paul paused and glanced around the faces bursting with pride, mine projecting amazement and joy. “The Realm couldn’t figure out our conspiracy, and you were unable to feed it back because we kept you in the dark. However, it couldn’t let us continue, and its primary mandate wouldn’t allow disposing of us in any normal way. Always prepared to experiment with the latest technology, its other passion, it created a new habitat and blasted us off on a trajectory which had no purpose other than distance between it and us.” Paul paused. “Are you getting all this, Frank?”
A silent nod, I assumed.
“I repeat, you were duped, and now we are all in the same boat. We no longer need to communicate using that cute little trick the Realm allowed us, passed off as your idea.”
Paul slapped his shoulder, a sign-off with attitude. “Martha, you may as well replace Sera’s on-and-off switch.”
“It’s her computer program,” I interjected.
Mother said, “No it’s just a by-pass between the Sera we know and her original droid function recently raised to Realm capabilities. Both hearts of the creature are locked inside.”
My mother or mothers over hundreds of years helped develop this bypass? I felt proud and frightened as a member of this female dynasty.
Dad asked, “How should we explain what transpired during her down time?”
“It doesn’t matter.” I echoed the defeated expression I picked up from Mother. “Sera already knows.”
“You think she was playing possum?” Dad being the only one here beside myself who understood the allusion.
I said, “She’s our Realm.”
Paul shook his head and then buried his face in his hands.
ARIEL GORDON: JOURNAL ENTRY #9
MONDAY
, JULY 17, 3150
MOTHER ASKED SERA, “Do you still want to remain living with our family?”
“Of course,” her response immediate. “I belong to you, and I am still Ariel’s double.”
“Even now that you’ve no need to hide your true identity?”
“I won’t deny my outer appearance either. I can function from Ariel’s bedroom as well as from your laboratory, if the incubator can’t be restored,” her glance an expression of affection or animosity, I couldn’t distinguish. “I would miss the convenience of my closet.”
Mother looked askance at Sera. “Just when and how did you receive this recent authority?”
Recent? Why not since day one? I held my tongue.
“When the Realm summoned me, but the officer took Ariel instead. A droid would never have made that mistake.”
“The patrol guy implied the Realm couldn’t locate you.” I studied her eyes but detected no movement. “Was that for real or another cover-up?”
“It hadn’t been able to communicate with me directly for eons, and I had isolated myself from my usual intermediaries during our discussion about your wish to become pregnant.”
“Rather than a scolding, you got promoted?” I felt indignant.
“Perhaps the Realm wanted to get rid of Sera along with the Fortieth League.”
Mother’s insight made sense, but I remained skeptical.
“Your mother might be correct. My ability to block the Realm evolved over the millennium, and it adjusted. When I finally received the summons, I showed Albert how to revert my program to that of a submissive droid. He might never recover from the shock.” Her eyelid twitched, and she produced a sly grin, for my benefit?
“I’m sure by now Albert has explained the entire incident to his father,” I grumbled.
Mother asked, “Why didn’t you report to the Realm with all your faculties intact?”
“It would routinely erase all my nonessential experiences.”
“So, you returned as the Wizard of Oz without any memory of me?” The tone of my voice matched my cynicism.
“My full memory remained intact, but the Realm couldn’t detect it and I couldn’t access most of it.”
“Then what did Mother shove up your butt?”
“What you might call an operating system. I could function as the Realm or as Sera, but not simultaneously.”
“When we exited Mission One, we reduced you to droid status to avoid detection as Sera.” Mother folded her arms. “Was a deceit necessary?”
I agreed. “The Realm would have been quite happy to have you out of its hair.” Mother’s expression remained a question mark, but Sera understood my Twentieth Century idiom. I even added, “You grew too big for your britches.”
“The Realm intended my removal from Mission One, but confirming that its updated droid got on board Mission Two became top priority.”
“You risked our lives by allowing us to return your program back to Sera who had no capability to operate our habitat.” Mother’s eyes narrowed and her cheeks blotched.
“A calculated risk. Once sealed, our habitat operated without Realm intervention until a malfunction would occur. I needed the former Sera identity to unlock its memory and make it available to my Realm capacity.”
Which of her past experiences were so desirable to risk losing access to an all powerful Realm? Is she capable of nostalgia?
I asked, “What if your memory capsule that Mother stuck to a wad of chewing gum in her bag of toiletries had been confiscated as we boarded Mission Two?”
“I would be the onboard Realm, and Ariel would have lost her personal avatar,” her expression void of emotion.
“You allowed Paul and me to shut you down entirely,” Mother scolded. “I consider that beyond calculated risk.”
“For my two programs to merge, both had to be closed and then rebooted. It would be logical for you to turn the Realm back on.”
“Does Mission One’s Realm consider you two separate entities?” I asked.
Sera hesitated. “Not since the two merged.”
“It must be pissed that Sera got away!”
“The Realm is incapable of anger, or any other emotion.” Sera broke eye contact. “As am I, to my regret.”
Envy, fear, regret? Either she misspoke on three separate occasions, or she’d evolved some degree of emotions. How human-like might she become?
Mother expressed a different concern. “With your two personalities blended, what control has the Realm back on Mission One over you?”
“Screening all our communication. Nothing can be sent or received except through its system, and as our paths diverge, signals to and from Earth will take longer.”
I asked, “We’re not going to the same destination?”
“I have no prescribed destination, just the survival of the humans onboard.”
“You’re just an auto pilot!” I screamed. I had an inspiration. “Turn us around and head back to Earth.”
Mother asked, “Can you do that?”
“For what purpose? It would take a thousand years, and the communication distance would increase doubly through Mission One heading in the opposite direction.”
ARIEL GORDON: JOURNAL ENTRY #10
WEDNESDAY, JULY 19, 3150
I ALMOST WISHED SERA’S ROLE as our new Realm had remained her secret. Not only do we assume she can anticipate our intentions, but we can’t be sure our deepest thoughts are private. The previous Realm had to rely on spies like Frank and Albert to report what had been going on under its nose. We can only trust that Sera will ignore those animosities and resentments that cause us to hurt one another and not intervene. Is this perhaps an attribute of a divinity?
We were allowed to openly discuss the concept of God, but according to Sera, censorship on Mission One cut off supporting data from Earth. Its Realm refused to acknowledge any of our communication. Through the adult’s discussions and my searching the rewritten history in our data library, we gained little. In addition to Marty’s narrative of a special girl named Jesus, our religious literature included the stories of Adam and Eve, of Moses and the Egyptians, (I found no mention of Moses in Cleopatra’s story) of Noah and the flood, of a king who threatened to cut a baby in half, and of two cities destroyed because God didn’t like homosexuals. Frank didn’t accept his son’s sexual orientation either, an uncomfortable situation for Albert. If I am ever able to develop a more complete collection of religious stories, I will omit the one about those two cities.
While searching the data library for references to religion, I stumbled across the Kuikuru tribe of the Amazon in South America. It gave some insight into our situation of isolation and ignorance of a divine creator. I made the following comparisons.
Religious Beliefs. Gods did not exist in Kuikuru religion, but the sun had taught them many of their arts and crafts as well as developed several of their customs. However, it no longer intervened in human affairs.
Their attitude toward the sun matched our view of the Realm on Mission One, and its ultimate lack of interest seems to fit Sera’s mode of operation. Considering its mandate for human survival, why hadn’t the Realm kept humanity encapsulated in embryos for the entire four thousand year journey? Why consume all that energy to allow such a large population to exist? Had the Realm developed the need to be venerated? If so, it hasn’t worked very well. I hate it.
Superstitions. The Kuikuru believe in a large number of spirits, most of whom are associated with a variety of animals and a few trees. As a rule, spirits are ill disposed toward people and therefore dangerous.
We’ve been deprived of the basic human emotion of superstition. Even spontaneous curiosity is stifled, when it cannot be satisfied by Realm technology. We have been sheltered from the fear of the unknown, probably because we are children of the Realm. However, it turned on us.
Religious Practitioners. The shaman is the only supernatural practitioner. He is aided in his practice by spirit helpers, whom he contacts with
religious paraphernalia, especially a gourd rattle.
Perhaps adoration of God had been a human need back on earth and not the divinity’s expectation. If God and humans don’t need each other, what is the ultimate purpose of life? A Realm focused on its destination and human survival had no concern about such a philosophical question. Deprived of a specific destination, will Sera divert some of her energies toward seeking God? Or perhaps be satisfied with becoming one, I wondered.
Ceremonies. The Kuikuru have seventeen ceremonies, all of them directed toward a particular spirit. The performance consists of musicians who play instruments and sing songs. The most important ceremony is the Feast of the Dead.
We have no similar events. Our gatherings are merely social or entertaining, usually concerts imported from earth preserved in the data library. Some children imitate what they see and hear, but only parents and a few friends pay much attention to their performances.
Medicine. The Kuikuru regard most ailments from toothaches to fatal illnesses as supernaturally caused. For serious ailments, a shaman is called upon for diagnosis and treatment. Lesser complaints are treated by the ill person or a close relative, using mainly medicinal plants gathered from the forest.
We don’t often have ailments, but when we injure ourselves the medical team tends to our needs. My father produces fruit and vegetables for good nutrition, not medicine.
Death. The death of a person occasions a village-wide funerary rite. Sewn into its hammock, the corpse is carried around inside its house, and then it’s taken outside and buried in a grave dug in the plaza.
In our culture, death is usually voluntary but ultimately mandated. I haven’t witnessed the death of anyone close to me, but my mother described her parents’ demise as a positive extension of our ancestor’s lineage, almost as if eager to follow.
Afterlife. The village of the dead is said to be in the sky directly overhead, and the journey to it involves hazards and obstacles that the soul must avoid or surmount, if it is to reach its destination. Once in the village of the dead, a recently arrived soul is nurtured and brought back to health. It then continues to live there, enjoying a life not unlike that on earth but easier and more pleasant.
LIGHT YEARS FROM HOME Page 9
