Regan's Reach

by Mark G Brewer

  "Ok." she replied spooning more to her mouth, "Since we're just chatting, I've been thinking about music, I mean around the ship. You have all those recordings in storage; is it possible to play them anywhere?"

  "Sure, you could make up a selection to your tastes. I suggest you sit down later and make a play list from my files, then I can use some of your software to sort out other music that fits your likes. You could make different lists with different styles then just call for them when you want."

  The very thought, while interesting, frustrated her. He was treating her like a child. Why?

  Suddenly Regan dropped her spoon to the table and stood up. "I can't do this Ham. It's no time to chat," and she headed for control. "We'll do the talking now."

  Entering the control room she sat in her usual chair and made herself comfortable. "Now, tell me how an executive makes decisions?"

  If a machine could clear its throat she was sure that was the sound she heard before Ham replied.

  "Well," he said, "let's start from the beginning; if you will just spin around I can give you the best view."

  Regan turned to see a spectacular three dimensional image of a head turning eerily in the air in the centre of the control room. The facial features were clearly her own; however it was as if it was transparent and she could see right inside.

  Ham started his explanation, "OK, here you can see your skull in profile. I'm going to overlay the device so that you can see its position. It's in the inside left of the neurochranium." A tiny cylinder appeared nestled comfortably, or so it seemed.

  "I've got to say that's much smaller than I imagined," she said, relieved.

  "It's actually about three times larger than I planned, quite dense and packed with processing power." he also sounded relieved at her reaction. "That was one of my executive decisions."

  "Uh huh . . . and the reason for that was . . . ?"

  "Well, it occurred to me that this operation was probably a oncer, and who knows, you might want to upgrade. Think of it as future proofing, that's a concept you computer geeks are familiar with, aren't you? And there did seem to be a lot of available space in there."

  "Uh huh . . . and you didn't think to ask me earlier?"

  "Would you have said yes?"

  "Hmm . . . probably not."

  "There you go then! And now you feel fine, no harm done. OK, I'm going to display the developing connections. Now, this is an active process of the unit, it's completed now and you shouldn't be alarmed by the degree of the strands you see here, they're more a visualization of a soft tissue process. These aren't wires."

  In the hologram something like strands did indeed appear, beginning at the device and branching out to both sides of the brain but mainly the left. The degree of color filling the space was alarming but she took Ham at his word. Of course those strands would just slide in . . . wouldn't they? She squirmed, I feel fine! I feel fine!

  "And," Ham continued sounding a little smug, "the unit seems to be working fine, you haven't experienced any problems have you?"

  "Well, no. But I have no idea if this thing works, I tried speaking some French and all I could manage was my schoolyard 'Je ne comprends rien', and I already knew that!

  "Well," and he sounded super smug, "You're speaking Dahlian fine."

  Regan's mouth dropped open. "Wha . . ."

  "Your Dahlian, it's good, you'll fit in like a native!" He was unbearably delighted as if he'd pulled a rabbit out of a hat. "That's how it works. I started speaking in Marin's language when you came in and the transition is seamless. The unit works with your brain and recognizes words and meaning immediately along with all the usual nuances that come from tone, volume, pace. No one usually thinks about the actual sound of a word, it's just there, people are speaking and you just understand. This is the same. The unit is as fast as or faster than your brain so that as soon as you hear the words, the meaning is in your head and guided by the unit you naturally reply in the same way. It does the work of translating so quickly you don't even have to think about it. Would you like to hear our conversation from the time you came in here?"

  "Ahh, I guess so, but won't I just hear . . . well . . . the meaning? I won't recognize the words."

  "Actually you will once you get used to it. A French woman hears French, it's just most of the time she doesn't recognize she's doing so. She just hears and responds. Your brain fooled you here because it automatically recognized meaning and replied in the same way. You understood but weren't expecting it and as you were preoccupied you didn't think about it."

  "Oh wow! So how do I hear it now?" She asked, all her anger gone.

  "Well, now you know that it's happening just listen for it consciously. You'll hear the sounds as well as understanding. If you have a problem I can turn it off."

  Immediately Ham replayed the conversation from the time she entered the control room and she found she could hear the sounds. They were strange guttural sounds that seemed to flow together. She couldn't detect any breaks in the sounds but at the same time she understood. Of course, this is exactly what any language sounds like when being spoken fluently to a non speaker.

  "Amazing," she acknowledged, "and very cool." She paused, "Ham . . . I don't miss much. This device is in my head. How can you turn it off?"

  "Ahh . . . now, that was my other executive decision."

  "Go . . . on."

  "Regan, I had the best of intentions. Look, this thing needs power and the larger unit drained more than your brain could provide without making you pass out sooo . . . it occurred to me that a means of recharging would be useful and allow higher processing functions too. So I included a charger. Then I thought it might be useful to communicate at times without words, like when we get to Dahlia. That way I could coach you without anyone knowing, so again, it seemed like a good idea to combine the wireless connectivity with the charger. This way we can talk any time silently, friendly like!" He was babbling, suspiciously nervous.

  "Ham . . . what have you done?"

  "This."

  Regan looked at the image and immediately it seemed her brain disappeared, hidden behind a thick lattice. All she could see now was color with no brain visible at all; the additions shading everything else out. Another cold shiver passed through her.

  "It looks worse than it is," Ham tried to sound reassuring. "You can't really tell from the outside."

  "Where . . . is . . . my . . . BRAIN!"

  "It's there! It's still there, honestly! What you can see is only a mesh, over the skull but under the skin. It's a neural web with wireless connectivity combined with photoreceptor cells. Whenever you're in light it will charge your device and provide power to access the higher functions. It also provides extra punch to the wireless unit. Simple!" Ham sounded excited.

  "Simple! . . . Simple! . . . I'm a fucking cyborg!"

  "Hardly Regan . . . I decided against going that far, you're overreacting."

  "Oh shit! . . . You . . . you . . . . this took some planning!

  "About one thousandth of a second."

  "What?"

  "That's how long it took . . . the planning . . . one thousandth of a second."

  "Well fuck you," Regan stood and made for the door, "I'm glad you thought long and hard about it." And she was gone.

  The ghostly head hung in the air still rotating slowly. Then the image began to dissolve, melting into liquid drops, each falling slowly to puddle on the floor.

  Regan headed straight for the gym. First she increased the settings on every machine. Then she literally worked on each until she could take no more. Soaked with perspiration she made a quick stop at the mess to rehydrate then headed for level five; she would run until she dropped. Five kilometers later the outer walls began to light up revealing a soft vision of space, the Milky Way swirling about her as she pounded along. Finally, with her feet sore, Regan started back up, only stopping to check on Marin before taking the longest shower she had taken on ship. Then she crashed, face down, head buried
in the blanket bundled up beneath her head. She didn't sleep.

  Two hours later Regan rolled over and stared at the ceiling.

  "I know why," she said. "I know why you did it."

  "I just did what I thought would be best for you." Ham spoke softly, he could have been whispering.

  "Ham, I'm only twenty four years old and I can't tell you how often I've heard guys say that. The problem with men is that they truly believe what they think is best, is best. They use that argument to justify their actions." She shook her head. "Oh, what am I saying, women do it too. It's just not right. True, sometimes you have to make those calls because it's not possible to do it any other way. This wasn't one of those situations. You should have talked to me."

  "You might have said no."

  "That was my right Ham, and that would have been your risk. If you really care about someone you need to let them choose. Perhaps they'll go along with your idea, perhaps not. And if they never agree with you or compromise on anything, then perhaps they're not the best person to be with. I understand taking that risk, the fear of it. It's a risk that you will lose someone, but it's worth it, to have something real."

  . . . Silence . . .

  Regan thought for a while and then continued. "I'm not happy with how you did this. But that doesn't mean that I'm going to fight it."

  . . . Silence . . .

  "Ham?"

  "Regan . . . in the interests of full disclosure . . . there are a couple of other things, I want to clean the slate, even if . . ."

  "Ham . . . what is it?" Regan sat up nervously, the cool chill again shivering down her back.

  "I understand what you're saying," Ham continued, "I know I should have asked. I just rationalized things because you said you'd do anything. I shouldn't have gone ahead and I knew it wasn't right, not without you saying so."

  "What is it Ham? You're worrying me."

  "You said I should back up . . ."

  Regan paused, confused. Back up? She cocked her head, reality dawning. "I'm . . . your backup! Oh fuck Ham, what have you done?"

  "The unit has . . . everything."

  Regan raised her hands, stabbing her forehead with her finger, "You mean you . . . are in . . . here!"

  "Nooo, well, yes, sort of. I'm here, as usual but I'm constantly backing up in there, a copy, like you said, just in case. But don't worry, what's in there isn't active, unless you choose for it to be, to access it I mean, for information or advice or something."

  "Oh fuck Ham! I've known you less than two weeks and now we're sleeping together!" She started to pace.

  "I know this doesn't make it right Regan, but there are advantages. Through the wireless connection you now have instant mental access to all the data stored in the ship. That's got to be good for you, doesn't it? And lastly, there is something else . . ."

  "Yeeessss." Regan assumed that suspicious look, like she was thinking what - the - fuck are you going to tell me now? It was probably lost on Ham.

  He continued. "This is the last thing; I'm pretty sure, honestly . . . for the photoreceptors to work . . . you can't grow your hair back."

  There followed a few seconds of silence and then Regan sank to her knees, continuing down in one fluid motion until she was foetal hunched on the floor, rocking back and forth, knocking her head softly on the floor.

  "I'll just leave you for a bit, shall I?" Ham offered.

  "That . . . might . . . be . . . good." she replied slowly, butting the floor with each word.

  *

  One advantage of an argument, especially when one party knows they stepped over the line, is how hard they are often prepared to work to put things right. Ham was working really hard.

  Regan was determined to make life more bearable during the months of travel. Music and visuals to run to sounded like fun, and the starscape Ham had displayed on level five during her earlier anger break proved inspiring. It was just the beginning with the ship having stored visuals from virtually every favorite place she had ever visited. Moving visuals from head cams were the best and with showing just a hint of interest Ham could have her running around the Sydney waterfront or through the redwood forest in Rotorua.

  Walking laps through the virtual redwoods Regan reflected on her attitude following Ham's revelation. More than anything it was not being asked that bothered her. As someone interested in technology, and in particular the mind technology link, the potential of what Ham had done excited her.

  "You did want a complete change." she whispered to herself.

  It was time to move on. She wanted to build a bridge.

  "Ham, I want to share something with you." She continued walking as she talked.

  "At home, in my family, we never argued."

  "O . . . K?"

  "But we did have discussions." She paused. "The thing is Ham, some of those, 'discussions', could be heard three doors away from our house, right down the street."

  "What are you saying?"

  "I'm saying Ham, that even though we argued, loudly and even if we had differences, we always stayed family."

  There was silence for a few minutes and Ham didn't comment, but soon, as if nothing had happened, they were talking, another long rambling conversation about life, family, Dahlia, politics and even religion. After a while, still talking, Regan moved back to her room to lie on the bed. As they chatted she could tell that Ham was truly enjoying the company. This is a frustrated mind, she thought, he is a lonely personality who has been lonely for a long time. She wondered at Ham's relationship with Marin, if there was one. Then . . . there came an insight. Ham's care for Marin, the risks he was prepared to take, even his subtle manipulation of her told a different story. Ham felt responsible for Marin, perhaps like an older brother. Like Kevin.

  Regan's head began to nod, once, twice, then it dropped to her chest and she slipped slowly into sleep. The lights dimmed in the room.

  With lights gently brightening Regan opened her eyes and checked her watch. It was three in the morning. Morning she thought. What does that mean here? Since day one she'd followed earth timing by her watch but the last few days had thrown her sleep patterns out completely. Nothing for it now, I'm wide awake. She lay a while longer staring at the ceiling trying to recall the detail of the dream she had just been having, running toward a man but not able to reach him. Sitting up and shaking her head Regan decided to get up. Ham was always up.

  She went straight to the mess for coffee then proceeded up to control. Taking her seat she looked at the star view before her and marveled for a moment. It always appeared the same.

  "This is an early rise for you, Regan?" Ham had that interested, questioning tone as if to say, are you alright?

  "I woke and knew I wouldn't get back to sleep. I'm used to Earth's twenty four hour day but this last week I've been all over the place. I need to get back to a regular cycle. What's it going to be like on an orbital?"

  "Not that different to what you know. All animals need sleep and without a regular cycle they break down, humanoids especially. On Marin's orbital day night cycles are maintained artificially, at twenty five of your hours. That's twenty five hours with ten hours darkness. Temperature wise it's like a perpetual Earth summer, you'll like it."

  Looking out at the starscape she realized something had been nagging at her, "The view Ham, it doesn't seem right. I remember you saying we would be going to FTL yet I've always imagined we wouldn't see stars? The FTL crest, have I missed it?"

  "No, my friend, I kept the jump for you. A couple of extra days on the journey hardly seemed important."

  'Friend,' – the word took Regan by surprise. My friend! Two words casually dropped into the conversation and she was speechless.

  "Remember we don't hit a crest, we make the crest then surf it. Actually it's more like a bubble but the key things are, contracted space ahead, expanded space behind and then we ride the wave baby! There's no reason not to do it now. If you're ready, we'll make our wave and then talk as we surf it, how abou
t it?"

  "Oh yes! Let's have a countdown?" Regan fixed her eyes on the perfect, pin prick stars and star clouds that filled the screen, no idea where they were heading, but totally relaxed, expectant

  "Yes ma'am, counting down: five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . . . . . . . ."

  . . . Nothing . . .

  . . . Nothing . . .

  It really was nothing, no stars, no lights, no flash, and no sense of acceleration.

  She felt underwhelmed. "That's it?"

  "That's it!" Ham replied, incredulous. "That . . . was a marvel. That . . . was a miracle of modern science. That . . . is something so far ahead of anything your scientists have managed that their accomplishments rank only a little ahead of apes breaking heads with bones? That's how far you are behind us. That . . ."

  She jumped in, "That . . . was underwhelming. That . . . was an anti climax. There was nothing to see! I'm going to top up my coffee then I'll come back and you can tell me more about executive decision making. Now that . . . should be a blast." She stood.

  Exasperated, Ham let out a long despairing sigh. "Get it from the galley; I've put coffee in there too."

  Regan skipped from the room.

  Filling her cup she chuckled, "You know Ham; I think I'm starting to find your limits . . . it's been fun!"

  *

  The War Room, Riverside, Hutt Valley, NZ

  ". . . So, how did it go?" Stephanie asked.

  She, Kevin, Mary, Mitch, Kutch and Marcus all sat around the new central table. They had reorganized the room quickly after Regan's call and there had been little reason for celebration since. Events had continued to unfold disturbingly in the two weeks since Regan's message and much of their time had been consumed by the developing situation.

  The battle had developed on several fronts, each needing to be addressed in its own way. The first challenge came three days after receiving Regan’s message and they were grateful for the time they had to plan. Kevin had received the call, from the US State Department. They wanted to talk and a letter was on the way; the State Department advised them to read it carefully as preparation.