by Bruno, Rhett
THIS LONG VIGIL
Rhett C Bruno
THIS LONG VIGIL TEXT © 2015 RHETT BRUNO
Cover art © 2015 Anna Khlystova
All Rights Reserved
“INHABITANT 1724 IS UNDERGOING the recycling process. The birthing of replacement Inhabitant 3287 will initiate immediately afterwards,” Dan announced. He was the ship-wide artificial intelligence in command of the Interstellar Ark, Hermes.
I groaned, got up out of my bed and rubbed my eyes. “Understood, I’ll head there now,” I responded, though performing my usual duties was the last thing on my mind.
As the human Monitor of the Interstellar Ark Hermes—the sixth to be chosen for that designation since the ship departed Earth—it was my job to be awake and attentive so that I could help with the few tasks which Dan couldn’t handle alone. Typically that consisted of presiding over birthings, or fixing pieces of malfunctioning equipment, but it was always under his careful guidance. I was the pair of mobile hands able to reach the few areas of the Hermes he wasn’t able to.
Most days, however, I just spent my time waiting for my next task and talking to Dan. He had no problem carrying out his many responsibilities while simultaneously keeping me entertained. Everything I knew I had learned from him: how to speak, how to think, what Earth was like—everything. Even my name, Orion, was just the designation of a constellation of stars I’d taken a liking to in my early days as I stared out of the tiny viewport in my room. I never had human parents to give me one like I’ve heard is the customary practice back on Earth, so that was what I chose. Though I suppose you could say Dan was like my father.
I stepped out of my quarters and into the long, cambered hall of the Hermes’ Living Ring. It was a looping passage wrapping entirely around the ship’s central Conservatory and it rotated continuously in order to produce a sense of serviceable pseudo-gravity.
“What is always coming but never arrives?” Dan asked as I began my trek.
I smirked. Dan had a soft spot for riddles. Whether or not he told them to distract me or himself—if that was even possible—I’m not sure, but often times I spent days trying to come up with an answer. I got a few right from time to time, but they were always challenging.
“This is a simple one,” I replied.
“You have the answer already?” If he could sound surprised I imagined he would’ve. I never figured them out that quickly.
“Not yet, but you won’t stump me this time.”
I repeated the riddle over and over in my head as I made my way down the Living Ring. It was nice to get to think about something else besides the people floating in the glassy tubes running down both sides of the passage. They were Hermes’ Life-Chambers, holding the exactly nine hundred and ninety-nine inhabitants hibernating on the Hermes. All of them slept quietly in their artificial wombs, showing no more motion than the occasional twitch of an eyelid due to an unpleasant dream. There were never any more in stasis and never any less. According to Dan, the ship’s makers had calculated for its Conservatory to be capable of producing only the precise amount of nutrients necessary to support that population.
Only one chamber remained empty—the one I’d emerged from—and it would remain so until I turned fifty-years-old and had to return to the long sleep so that a new Monitor could take over and a new chamber would be vacated. Presently, I was forty-nine, and my birthday wasn’t far away. My time walking the halls of the ship was swiftly coming to an end, and seeing the docile faces of the inhabitants only served to remind me of that fact each and every day.
“Every day,” I said out loud. “Is the answer, tomorrow?”
“Very good, Orion,” Dan responded almost instantly. “That was your fastest time yet. Only four hundred ninety-seven seconds.”
“I must be getting smarter in my old age,” I chuckled.
Without even realizing, it’d taken me almost the entire walk to come up with the solution. I stopped and looked left at Inhabitant 1724. My smile vanished in an instant when I recognized who it was. An old man floated upright in the liquid-filled Life-Chamber. A dozen different tubes and needles were affixed to his sagging flesh, each of them performing some crucial task in order to sustain his life. His time had run out.
“I thought I recognized the number,” I said. “Poor Fish finally ending his sleep, huh?”
“Fish?” Dan questioned.
“Yeah, I ...” I considering explaining, but decided against it. Dan called him by his numerical distinction. I knew him as Fish. It was a name I’d given him because his wrinkled face looked remarkably similar to a certain type of fish from Earth which Dan had once shown me.
“Nevermind,” I said. I didn’t want Dan to think I was being foolish. He didn’t inquire further. “Are you sure his time is up?”
“Yes. He is seventy Earth-years old as of 1404 UTC today.”
I sighed. “Go ahead and initiate then.”
The point where Fish’s chamber met the ceiling fanned open, and the greenish liquid inside began to drain through it. All of the tubes and needles in his loose skin popped out. Then he was then sucked up through a dark hole and into the innards of Hermes.
“Evacuation complete,” Dan announced.
The glass face of the vacant chamber peeled open so that I could do the routine checkup following an evacuation. I stepped in and began analyzing all of the circuits and other apparatus within. Everything looked to be in fine order, even after having remained relatively untouched for the seventy years since Fish’s birth.
I opened my mouth to let Dan know it was clear, but all that came out was air. Even after helping with more than one hundred of them, the recycling of an Inhabitant always got to me. I swallowed the lump in my dry throat and forced the words out. “All looks good.”
“Thank you, Orion. Please proceed to Inhabitant 2678’s chamber. She has been prepped for birthing.”
I stepped out of Fish’s chamber and when it resealed behind me I released a mouthful of air. “Bye, Fish,” I whispered.
<><><>
It was a short stroll around the Living Ring in order to reach the Life-Chamber of Inhabitant 2678. This time I couldn’t help but stare at the bodies of various ages and sizes floating beside me along the route. Every one of them was unique, down to the tiniest strands of hair on their bodies. It was important to Hermes’ builders to make sure that the ages of those on board remained staggered. Apparently, variety was going to be crucial for the development of a new society at Hermes’ destination. That was why the builders didn’t just send frozen embryos.
When I reached the pregnant inhabitant, I turned my back to her chamber. It never seemed right to me to watch them give birth. The tubes attached to her would lift her legs and spread them so that a spindly apparatus descending from the ceiling could draw out her offspring. When I finally turned around, that metallic arm was lifting a bloody infant up through the opened ceiling. I made sure her readings were satisfactory while I waited for it to disappear. Everything went perfectly, as usual. The red-stained fluid in the chamber was flushed and replaced straightaway, clean as ever.
“A male,” Dan announced.
I nodded before traveling back to Fish’s vacated tube. By the time I got there it was refilled and the unclothed newborn had already been lowered in. The infant’s tiny arms flailed and the face on his oversized head was scrunched as if he was in pain. He cried silently behind a mask of bubbles until a respirator tube entered his mouth. Then he quickly fell into an unconscious state, allowing the chamber’s many needles and tubes to painlessly fasten themselves to his flesh. I checked the chambers readings twice to be sure. Again, everything was fine.
“Inhabitant 3287 has successfully
been planted. Thank you, Orion,” Dan said.
“You’re quite welcome, Dan. Always happy to help,” I replied.
With my task completed I began to make my way back to my quarters. After a few steps I noticed out of the corner of my eye that I was standing beside the only empty Life-Chamber on the Hermes. My eyes froze on it. My heart sank. I decided to go the other way.
“I notice that your pulse is quickening. Are you alright?” Dan asked.
“Fine,” I lied. “Just been thinking a lot.”
“Still considering which inhabitant will be your successor again?” he asked.
“Not exactly,” I grumbled.
“In twenty-three hours you will be fifty-years-old. As you know, I was programmed by my maker to ensure that there is always an able-bodied human on watch—”
“I know that!” I snapped, somewhat unintentionally. Last time he told me it was thirty-seven hours. There was less than one day until my eyes would never open again. It was going by too fast. “Sorry. I just ... I don’t want to mess this up,” I said.
“You can’t. There are two hundred and eleven members of this crew who are of the required age and size to be awakened.”
“Yet only one to choose. I wish it was easier.”
As soon as I said that I found myself staring at the Life-Chamber positioned directly adjacent to my quarters. The woman inside was around the same age I was when the previous Monitor chose to wake me; however, there was something different about her. Something which drew me that I didn’t really understand and that Dan could never manage to explain.
“Perhaps Inhabitant 2781 is the one?” Dan said suddenly, startling me. “You’ve spent approximately fifteen hours of the last week studying her Life-Chamber.”
“Maybe,” I said softly.
I knew he was right. I’d decided on her almost a year prior. As much as I may have wanted to let Dan know, however, I couldn’t tell him the reason why I was taking so long; that I wanted to be there when she took her first wobbly steps even though I knew I couldn’t. I wanted to grasp her smooth hands and welcome her to the realm of the living; to feel the pulse of her veins beneath her skin—real human contact. Sometimes I’d watch as her chest gently heaved from the air she unconsciously breathed in through her respirator, and that was often enough to get my heart racing. All my wakened life I enjoyed taking the time to name inhabitants like Fish. I’d make up stories about what their ancestors might’ve been like or what they would’ve done if they’d never left Earth. I could never think of any tale fitting for her. I couldn’t even think of a worthy name.
“Who am I to get to choose who wakes up and who doesn’t?” I asked. I placed my fingers against the glass. It was warm to the touch.
“You are the sixth Monitor of the Interstellar Ark, Hermes. Constructed on Luna Station in 2334 C.E. by Pervenio Corporation.”
“Imparted with the task of ensuring the completion of our exploratory journey,” I finished for him. I took a long stride back from the chamber and sighed. “Did the other Monitors take this long to decide?” I asked.
“They were under the same restrictions that you are. Consequently, their decisions all arrived by the required time.”
“Was it hard for them too then?”
“I could sometimes detect elevated levels of anxiety in them as the date of their return to stasis drew closer, though I am sorry that I cannot be one hundred percent positive as to what the origin of that anxiety was in each particular case.”
“You didn’t talk to them about it?”
“We conversed about a great many subjects. However, they never shared their feelings on this topic with me as explicitly as you have. I found that all five of your predecessors remained very reclusive throughout the final year of their service.”
“Were you like a father to them as well?” I questioned, a hint of jealousy creeping into my tone.
“They never articulated it, so it is possible that they did not feel that way,” Dan admitted. “My maker left me with many recordings about your species’ history, but the data does not account for how each individual human develops unique, social tendencies. It has been remarkable to analyze firsthand.”
I lowered my gaze from the woman and began shuffling away. “You’re all I have, Dan,” I replied solemnly.
He didn’t respond right away, which usually meant that he noticed from my tone that I was dismayed. He could be peculiar that way. A few times when I was younger his logical responses only served to frustrate me more. It seemed he’d learned from those instances.
While he was quiet I turned out of the Living Ring and into my private quarters. It was a small nook tucked onto the outside of the circular structure, where the Hermes’ pseudo-gravity was the strongest. In it there was little more than a bed and a closet filled with a dozen identical boiler suits, but it was the tiny viewport sunken into the far wall which always drew my interest.
I sat on my bed stared through it. The glass was dense and tinted with shielding agents in order to protect me from radiation. It made the countless stars that shone through it appear like blurry, white specs, but it was the best view of the world beyond that the Hermes had to offer. I was grateful to its builders for at least providing me with something to show me that the interior of the ship wasn’t my entire universe, though I’d longed to step outside for my entire life.
“It is around time for your feeding, Orion,” Dan said, finally. A circular seal in the counter adjacent to my bed peeled open to reveal a hollow tube. A bowl filled with lumpy, brown-colored soup rose through it, spoon already resting on the rim. The sight of it made me grimace.
“I’m not hungry,” I replied.
“I must insist that you do not refuse another meal. As the active Monitor, your continued health is imperative.”
“Not for long,” I grumbled. I reached over, grabbed the bowl and twirled the spoon around in the goop. There wasn’t any name for it besides food, but it’s what I ate every single day. According to Dan it bore all of the nutrients necessary for keeping me healthy. I lifted a spoonful, but instead of bringing it to my mouth I tilted the spoon and allowed it to tumble over the edge.
Dan said nothing. Finally, I decided I was hungry enough to end my meager boycott and have some. It tasted no different than water.
“Forward and forward I go, never looking back,” Dan said as I swallowed. “My limit no one knows; more of me do they lack. Like a river I do flow and an eagle I fly, but am never gotten back. What am I, Orion?”
Another riddle. He knew exactly how to keep my mind occupied when I needed it most.
“What’s an eagle?” I asked with my mouth full from another scoop of my meal.
“Sorry for my oversight. It is an avian species indigenous to Earth, belonging to the Accipitridae family.”
“Dan ...”
“It is a large species of bird,” Dan corrected.
“Right. Bird. The animal with hollow bones and wings with feathers, correct?”
“In simpler terms, yes. They can fly even where there is gravity. Let me show you.”
A beam of illumination shot out from a lens embedded in my room’s far wall. The particles of light quickly formed into the three dimensional figure of what I assumed was an eagle. Its feathers fluttered as the projection soared through the imagined sky. Its outstretched wings were almost as tall as I was.
“Beautiful,” I uttered. I placed down the bowl and reached out, my fingers slipping through the pixels of light. “Hollow bones you say?”
“Yes.”
“How strange,” I snickered as I hopped onto my bed.
“Have you arrived at an answer yet, or did I stump you again, Orion?” Dan asked after a few minutes passed in silence.
Seeing the majestic eagle had almost caused me to forget the question. My limit no one knows; more of me do they lack. I reiterated a few times in my head until it started to ache. My mind was too cluttered to think clearly. “No, but I’m not giving up yet,” I ans
wered.
<><><>
My attempt at taking a nap after eating mostly led to me spending a few hours staring at the bare ceiling. Heavy as my eyelids may’ve been, sleeping was the last thing I wanted to do. I knew I’d get plenty of rest soon enough.
I sat up and began to rub them when suddenly an orange-hued light shined through the viewport. It was more brilliant than any light I’d ever seen before.
“Dan, what is that?” I stammered, my face beginning to feel like it’d been placed in a warming oven.
“Sorry, Orion. You will have to be more specific,” Dan replied instantly.
“That orange light coming through my viewport!”
“That is originating from Alpha Centauri B, one of the three companion stars in the system nearest to the Earth.”
My brow furrowed. “A star?” I questioned. “Is it exploding? I’ve never seen one like that before.”
“I assure you that you have seen many that are similar in composition. It appears large only because it is 98,420,000 miles away.”
“Is that far?”
“It is a similar distance as that which exists between Earth and its star, Sol.”
“So ... it’s like the sun?” My eyes widened. I stared back toward the light until they went dry.
“From the perspective of one of this system’s planets, yes. It could be considered a similar entity.”
“I don’t understand. Did we make it?”
“No. As I have informed you before, the programmed destination of this vessel is the star system, Tau Ceti. The planet Pervenio Corporation researchers have discovered orbiting that star has an eighty-three percent chance of being able to harbor human life. That is the highest probability of any celestial body within one thousand years of travel from Earth, considering modern technological abilities to traverse space at the time of the Hermes’ departure.”
I frowned, but as I hung my head I pieced together something he’d said and sprung to my feet. “But you said there are planets here! What about them?”
