Genre: Science fiction, dystopian, dramatic, Introspective.
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2° book in the anthology series The Voyage of the Endeavour
"We are born and die on the voyage,
the destination is a mirage." |
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There are not many of us ex-frozen people, and it is often not difficult to distinguish us from others. They call us perfect; I think it’s more correct to use the term healthy.
Trigger Warnings: violence.
Read the first 3 chapters
May 5, 3563
What to write?
Even just holding paper feels strange. It has a texture you rarely experience: smooth to the touch but rough to the pen stroke, resistant to twisting but dry enough to feel like it might crumble between your fingers. I caused a small tear at the bottom of the page before I even started…
And who to write to?
The therapist said it doesn't matter, that it's just a way to process thoughts, but the act of writing seems to me to be something incomplete in itself, isn’t the purpose of a written word to be read? It is the act of reading that completes the writing. Maybe I’m overthinking, maybe what I need to write doesn’t need to be read. But, after a thousand years of travel, paper has become a precious commodity. Many diaries are filled to the corners, making it hard to see the yellowing of the pages, and while greenhouses are a marvel of efficiency in producing food and oxygen, they were not designed to produce paper.
No, if I must use one of the few remaining diaries, it must be worth it.
I will write as if someone will read it, one day far from now, perhaps resting their feet on soft earth, in their garden on Elpis, the grass tickling their fingers.
Yes, I prefer to write ‘for posterity’, and maybe something interesting will come out of it.
So, what to write?
In the movies they all start with ‘Dear Diary’, but it seems too late for that now, I should have thought of that before I started writing like a stream of consciousness. I will try to be more organized from now on.
My name is Tessa Taylor, and I was born one thousand nine hundred and ninety-five years ago.
Of course, that depends on what you mean by ‘born’. If you take the word to mean ‘leaving the womb’, then I am a millennial creature. If, on the other hand, you take it to also mean ‘successful completion of embryonic development’, then I am a ‘human-flavored ex-popsicle’ barely twenty years old.
I have no memory of the millennial vacation in my plate. After all, embryos have no memory, they have no neural circuits to fix it, nor do they retain experiences of any kind. So, it’s certainly not my fault if I don’t have any. The only thing I know for sure is that I can't stand the cold, but I don't think it's the cryogenics.
There are not many of us ex-frozen people, and it is often not difficult to distinguish us from others. They call us ‘perfect’, I think it is more correct to use the term ‘healthy’.
It is not easy to endure the pressure, admiration and even adoration from some crew members. There are those who bow down to me when I pass; it has been happening ever since I developed the neural circuits I mentioned earlier. I believe this is how the Sun King felt when he walked through Versailles. I think that's how so many rulers have become detached from reality.
Worship is never good for the worshipper or the worshipped.
We are just embryos, born without parents and cared for by cold machines. They look at us as if we were superior beings, calling us ‘Children of the Ship’, a hope for humanity.
In a sense it is true.
A less poetic, perhaps disillusioned way of looking at it is that we represent genetic variability. A breath of fresh air in the stale gene pool of the Endeavour people.
Which leads to another task: procreation.
As one of the few people without genetic mutations, the crew expects me to produce numerous offspring. Not the easiest of tasks when you're saddled with all of humanity’s expectations and you're a lesbian.
Even just holding paper feels strange. It has a texture you rarely experience: smooth to the touch but rough to the pen stroke, resistant to twisting but dry enough to feel like it might crumble between your fingers. I caused a small tear at the bottom of the page before I even started…
And who to write to?
The therapist said it doesn't matter, that it's just a way to process thoughts, but the act of writing seems to me to be something incomplete in itself, isn’t the purpose of a written word to be read? It is the act of reading that completes the writing. Maybe I’m overthinking, maybe what I need to write doesn’t need to be read. But, after a thousand years of travel, paper has become a precious commodity. Many diaries are filled to the corners, making it hard to see the yellowing of the pages, and while greenhouses are a marvel of efficiency in producing food and oxygen, they were not designed to produce paper.
No, if I must use one of the few remaining diaries, it must be worth it.
I will write as if someone will read it, one day far from now, perhaps resting their feet on soft earth, in their garden on Elpis, the grass tickling their fingers.
Yes, I prefer to write ‘for posterity’, and maybe something interesting will come out of it.
So, what to write?
In the movies they all start with ‘Dear Diary’, but it seems too late for that now, I should have thought of that before I started writing like a stream of consciousness. I will try to be more organized from now on.
My name is Tessa Taylor, and I was born one thousand nine hundred and ninety-five years ago.
Of course, that depends on what you mean by ‘born’. If you take the word to mean ‘leaving the womb’, then I am a millennial creature. If, on the other hand, you take it to also mean ‘successful completion of embryonic development’, then I am a ‘human-flavored ex-popsicle’ barely twenty years old.
I have no memory of the millennial vacation in my plate. After all, embryos have no memory, they have no neural circuits to fix it, nor do they retain experiences of any kind. So, it’s certainly not my fault if I don’t have any. The only thing I know for sure is that I can't stand the cold, but I don't think it's the cryogenics.
There are not many of us ex-frozen people, and it is often not difficult to distinguish us from others. They call us ‘perfect’, I think it is more correct to use the term ‘healthy’.
It is not easy to endure the pressure, admiration and even adoration from some crew members. There are those who bow down to me when I pass; it has been happening ever since I developed the neural circuits I mentioned earlier. I believe this is how the Sun King felt when he walked through Versailles. I think that's how so many rulers have become detached from reality.
Worship is never good for the worshipper or the worshipped.
We are just embryos, born without parents and cared for by cold machines. They look at us as if we were superior beings, calling us ‘Children of the Ship’, a hope for humanity.
In a sense it is true.
A less poetic, perhaps disillusioned way of looking at it is that we represent genetic variability. A breath of fresh air in the stale gene pool of the Endeavour people.
Which leads to another task: procreation.
As one of the few people without genetic mutations, the crew expects me to produce numerous offspring. Not the easiest of tasks when you're saddled with all of humanity’s expectations and you're a lesbian.
May 10, 3563
I think I have a life that is different from the ordinary, for better or worse. Only two embryos are thawed per incubation event, which occurs every five years. So, of the five hundred conscious passengers on the ship, only about thirty are like me. The others are born in a more… traditional way, to a couple selected through the Match Mate protocol, not as ‘traditional’ as you might be used to, but still… currently living parents!
I don’t want to complain anymore, the therapist says to concentrate on positive thoughts: I have a healthy genome, free of mutations. Few people can boast that.
Let’s stop focusing only on the divisive elements, one thing I have noticed instead, like the others, is… boredom.
Not that there aren’t things to do on the ship: tens of thousands of volumes are stored in the virtual library, musical instruments are available for those with the determination to learn how to play them, and the terminal screens can be used to watch every movie and TV show produced by mankind up to the time of Endeavour’s departure. Or at least those whose files have not been corrupted by a millennium of wear and tear on the systems. The same goes for books. Who knows how many works we can no longer enjoy… I hope that on later ships such data remained intact. Who knows, maybe when we get to Elpis it will be possible to integrate all the databases and fill the holes in each with data from the others. Like taking ten copies of the same jigsaw puzzle that was destroyed in a fire and putting the remaining pieces together to make one.
In any case, we do not lack entertainment, we lack meaning. All creative effort is stifled by the emptiness of existence. Ben Barrett wrote:
I don’t want to complain anymore, the therapist says to concentrate on positive thoughts: I have a healthy genome, free of mutations. Few people can boast that.
Let’s stop focusing only on the divisive elements, one thing I have noticed instead, like the others, is… boredom.
Not that there aren’t things to do on the ship: tens of thousands of volumes are stored in the virtual library, musical instruments are available for those with the determination to learn how to play them, and the terminal screens can be used to watch every movie and TV show produced by mankind up to the time of Endeavour’s departure. Or at least those whose files have not been corrupted by a millennium of wear and tear on the systems. The same goes for books. Who knows how many works we can no longer enjoy… I hope that on later ships such data remained intact. Who knows, maybe when we get to Elpis it will be possible to integrate all the databases and fill the holes in each with data from the others. Like taking ten copies of the same jigsaw puzzle that was destroyed in a fire and putting the remaining pieces together to make one.
In any case, we do not lack entertainment, we lack meaning. All creative effort is stifled by the emptiness of existence. Ben Barrett wrote:
We are born and die on the voyage,
The destination is a mirage.
The destination is a mirage.
There are few who can see through an uncertain future and find meaning in creating art that can come to Elpis after the author’s death. Whether composing music or writing books, this is the fate of the artist. No wonder there are so few of them on the ship. With the exception of Ben Barrett, few have attempted to write a novel, and I believe his will be a unique testament to the art created by the crew.
But I’m still focusing on the negative aspects… what’s positive is that I loved thrillers and detective stories. It’s the passion for mystery, the curiosity to find a solution, that makes me do what I do. Of course, there is not much crime on the ship, just a few fights that need to be put down. Most of the time there’s not much to do.
That’s why I’m so excited to have found the infant’s body!
But I’m still focusing on the negative aspects… what’s positive is that I loved thrillers and detective stories. It’s the passion for mystery, the curiosity to find a solution, that makes me do what I do. Of course, there is not much crime on the ship, just a few fights that need to be put down. Most of the time there’s not much to do.
That’s why I’m so excited to have found the infant’s body!
* * *
Tessa closed her eyelids, enjoying the arm pressing against her breasts under the soft sheets, wrapping her in a gentle embrace.
“I love you,” Teuila whispered, kissing her cheek.
Tessa smiled and turned in her arms to face the girl: a potato nose and two almond-shaped eyes looked up at her, wrapped in a cascade of black curls. Tessa stretched her back and ran a hand across her companion’s face, caressing first her cheek and then the hair at her nape.
“I love you, too,” she said, leaning her head forward.
Lips touched with gentle pressure and parted reluctantly.
“I’m afraid it’s getting late,” Teuila said, looking at the clock on the wall.
“I wonder whose fault it is…,” Tessa uttered the syllables between kisses, tracing the line of Teuila’s jaw down to her neck.
“You’re the detective,” she sighed. “Investigate!”
“I’d gladly investigate,” Tessa bit her earlobe. “Thoroughly.”
“But?”
“It would get even later…”
“You’re getting guiltier by the minute,” Teuila kissed her again, then released the embrace. “And my brother is coming all too soon.”
“What a spoilsport.”
“You’re the one who wanted to work with him at all costs…”
“But otherwise,” Tessa brushed the tip of her nose with her index finger. “We wouldn’t have met.”
“Oh, baby,” Teuila sighed. “I had my eye on you a long time ago!”
Tessa laughed and stood up.
“Where are my panties?”
“I think I threw them over there,” Teuila laughed, gesturing with her hand.
“And you blame me for being late…”
“Of course.”
Tessa walked through the booth, circled the lacquered chipboard table, and looked down at the black lace panties embroidered with a silver-petaled floral pattern.
“I found them!” she said.
The similarly patterned bra had not come that far, hanging with a cup on the table.
“Wouldn’t it be easier if you brought some of your things?” said Teuila, curling her lips.
Tessa remained silent as she slipped her arms under the shoulder straps and closed the hooks behind her back.
“You don’t have to move, just… bring something.”
“Yeah, that would be easier,” Tessa admitted, searching the room for her clothes.
Her t-shirt of thin gray fabric lay crumpled on the back of a chair, while her pants lay at the foot of the bed. She focused on her lover’s curves as she dressed, avoiding her gaze.
Teuila watched her motionlessly, biting her lip as if considering whether to press the issue. Finally, she stopped and stood up to take her turn finding her clothes.
Tessa felt guilty, as if she had hurt her, and she knew she had. Why was it so hard for her to accept this new arrangement? After all, she already spent most of her time in Teuila’s cabin, this was just a matter of moving some personal items, nothing more.
Still, she hesitated.
Seeing the disappointment in her companion’s eyes hurt her more than anything else. She clenched her fists, then sighed.
“Sorry,” Tessa murmured, hugging her from behind.
Teuila let go of her pants just above her knees and took her hands, running her thumbs down the back of them.
“Forgive me,” she said, rubbing her face with one hand. “I shouldn’t have brought it up out of the blue; I’ll wait until you’re ready.”
Tessa hugged her tightly.
“Thank you.”
Teuila bit her finger.
“Ah!” Tessa exclaimed, more in surprise than pain.
“After all,” she turned with a wry grin. “Where could you run to?”
Tessa kissed her, basking in the softness of her lips. She would take off what little she had on and throw her back onto the bed if she only had time. Her head grew lighter as her curls caressed her face.
Teuila bit her lip.
“I’d better make breakfast,” she whispered in her ear. “Or I’ll end up eating you.”
Tessa nodded, a shiver running down her spine, she could not even remember which way she was turned. She staggered towards the bathroom, crashing into the furniture.
“I just need to untangle this,” Tessa said, running the brush through her brown hair.
“That’s easy mode,” Teuila said. “You should try my curls.”
The girl had taken powders from the cupboard and was mixing them in two bowls, some water smoking in the kettle.
“What delicacy are you cooking?”
“The usual, seared filet,” she added two tablespoons of amino acids and a sprinkle of vitamins to each bowl. “With a side salad.”
“For breakfast?”, Tessa raised an eyebrow.
Teuila shrugged.
“Can I ask for baked potatoes too?”
“No, but I can add an extra treat,” Teuila picked up a bag of chocolate sweetener.
“On the filet?”
“New recipe.”
Teuila put a spoon into each bowl and moved them to the table, then took the kettle and poured hot water into them until they were full. The suspended powders swirled in the current created by the trickle of water thrown at them with a gentle gurgling, turning the mixture gray and opaque.
“Et voila! It didn’t come out like in the movies, but it’s food in a container.”
Tessa wet her lips and shook her head.
“What a cook!” she said, stroking her arm and descending until their hands joined, fingers intertwined, palms pressed together.
Tessa sat down, grabbed the spoon with her free hand and dipped it into the cup, stirring the protein mixture. The powder thickened to a paste-like consistency. Tessa took a spoonful and put it in her mouth. There was no need to chew, there was never any need to chew on the Endeavour, it was amazing that humans had not forgotten how to do it. The taste was not bad, the sweetening powders did their tasty job. Of course, she couldn’t know what the food she saw in the movies tasted like, but her naive taste buds approved despite the lack of a standard.
There was a knock at the door.
“There he is,” Teuila got up and went to open the door.
A massive man with Samoan features entered and greeted her with a nod.
“Hello Sapati,” Tessa said.
“Are you ready?”
Tessa froze, spoon halfway between bowl and mouth.
“Sorry,” he said, wringing his hands. “It’s just… there’s something you need to see.”
Tessa frowned; she had never seen him so tense.
“Is everything all right?” Teuila asked.
“We may have… a small problem,” Sapati said. “I’ll tell you about it later, when maybe I know what to say…”
Tessa finished her breakfast, said goodbye to Teuila and went out with her brother. Sapati led her through the corridors of the third ring to the Gamma Bridge. The bulkheads opened with a puff and disappeared into the walls. They walked toward the fourth ring, letting their eyes wander through the tempered glass windows, contemplating the immensity of the cosmos. The Helix Nebula dominated the view, and despite Endeavour’s rotation, it remained within the field of view of every window on each of the ship’s six decks, from Alpha to Zeta. It appeared as a cloud of almost transparent whiteness, but Tessa knew from photos taken by the Hubble telescope that it looked like a giant eye returning the viewer’s gaze. Blue in the center, with an orange-yellow iris and a red outline that faded into the black infinity of space, almost like a crown of flames. No wonder it was one of the most photographed celestial objects. It was also called the Eye of God. Tessa preferred the more profane and fanciful version: the Eye of Sauron.
“Where are we going?” she asked keeping her eyes on the nebula.
“To the pool,” Sapati said.
“Then let’s go to my cabin first, I need to get my bathing suit.”
The look she got did not bode well.
“You won’t like what we found.”
The pool was a large circular room, devoid of any trappings. The pool basin, with a maximum depth of five feet, presented a clear, flat surface; no one was intent on relaxing in the water. The floor slowly descended into it, while a walkway surrounded it on either side, forming a perfect circle. Several people were clustered two radiants to the right, murmuring under their breath. One of them, with a net, was trying to catch something. Tessa and Sapati passed the group and joined their colleagues, who greeted them with nods and quiet words. Tessa flanked the man with the net to see what he was trying to retrieve.
The body of an infant.
“Fuck,” Tessa whispered. “Who found it?”
“It was old Sam,” a familiar voice said from behind her. “When he was cleaning the pool about an hour ago.”
Connor was dressed in black from his hoodie to the soles of his shoes, wore rectangular glasses, and sported his usual tight-lipped smile that made his cheeks sink into two boyish dimples.
“Hi, Connie,” Tessa said hugging him.
He was not as muscular as Sapati, but he was just as tall, and she had to stand on her toes.
“Did old Sam tell you anything else?” she asked when she came back to rest her heels.
“That’s all he noticed,” he shook his head. “We’ll have to wait for the lab analysis.”
The officer managed to grab the body and lift it, the swollen, purple skin cracking against the mesh of the net, causing foul-smelling bodily fluids to drip into the water. Tessa put her hand over her mouth and tried to stop herself from vomiting.
“Has anyone reported him missing?” she asked between her fingers.
“Not yet,” Connor said.
The pool doors opened with a puff and the sound of lone metal-soled boots echoed through the room. Father Radislav had entered and stood motionless, watching the scene. The priest wore a worn and faded brown robe, tied at the waist with a white rope. A necklace with a shiny bolt pendant dangled from his chest. Gloves with a metal plate sewn to the underside of his hand hung from his belt.
Suddenly he fell to his knees, as if his strength had left him, but he did not slump to the ground. He slipped the gloves from his belt, pulled them on, clasped his hands together as if trying to adjust them to his own size, and crouched down, tapping the metal plate on the floor with a metallic clang that broke the murmur of half-muttered conversation.
“Oh God,” Sapati huffed. “Here we go again…”
Father Radislav lowered his head until his forehead touched the floor, banging his fist more vehemently as he began to psalm.
“I love you,” Teuila whispered, kissing her cheek.
Tessa smiled and turned in her arms to face the girl: a potato nose and two almond-shaped eyes looked up at her, wrapped in a cascade of black curls. Tessa stretched her back and ran a hand across her companion’s face, caressing first her cheek and then the hair at her nape.
“I love you, too,” she said, leaning her head forward.
Lips touched with gentle pressure and parted reluctantly.
“I’m afraid it’s getting late,” Teuila said, looking at the clock on the wall.
“I wonder whose fault it is…,” Tessa uttered the syllables between kisses, tracing the line of Teuila’s jaw down to her neck.
“You’re the detective,” she sighed. “Investigate!”
“I’d gladly investigate,” Tessa bit her earlobe. “Thoroughly.”
“But?”
“It would get even later…”
“You’re getting guiltier by the minute,” Teuila kissed her again, then released the embrace. “And my brother is coming all too soon.”
“What a spoilsport.”
“You’re the one who wanted to work with him at all costs…”
“But otherwise,” Tessa brushed the tip of her nose with her index finger. “We wouldn’t have met.”
“Oh, baby,” Teuila sighed. “I had my eye on you a long time ago!”
Tessa laughed and stood up.
“Where are my panties?”
“I think I threw them over there,” Teuila laughed, gesturing with her hand.
“And you blame me for being late…”
“Of course.”
Tessa walked through the booth, circled the lacquered chipboard table, and looked down at the black lace panties embroidered with a silver-petaled floral pattern.
“I found them!” she said.
The similarly patterned bra had not come that far, hanging with a cup on the table.
“Wouldn’t it be easier if you brought some of your things?” said Teuila, curling her lips.
Tessa remained silent as she slipped her arms under the shoulder straps and closed the hooks behind her back.
“You don’t have to move, just… bring something.”
“Yeah, that would be easier,” Tessa admitted, searching the room for her clothes.
Her t-shirt of thin gray fabric lay crumpled on the back of a chair, while her pants lay at the foot of the bed. She focused on her lover’s curves as she dressed, avoiding her gaze.
Teuila watched her motionlessly, biting her lip as if considering whether to press the issue. Finally, she stopped and stood up to take her turn finding her clothes.
Tessa felt guilty, as if she had hurt her, and she knew she had. Why was it so hard for her to accept this new arrangement? After all, she already spent most of her time in Teuila’s cabin, this was just a matter of moving some personal items, nothing more.
Still, she hesitated.
Seeing the disappointment in her companion’s eyes hurt her more than anything else. She clenched her fists, then sighed.
“Sorry,” Tessa murmured, hugging her from behind.
Teuila let go of her pants just above her knees and took her hands, running her thumbs down the back of them.
“Forgive me,” she said, rubbing her face with one hand. “I shouldn’t have brought it up out of the blue; I’ll wait until you’re ready.”
Tessa hugged her tightly.
“Thank you.”
Teuila bit her finger.
“Ah!” Tessa exclaimed, more in surprise than pain.
“After all,” she turned with a wry grin. “Where could you run to?”
Tessa kissed her, basking in the softness of her lips. She would take off what little she had on and throw her back onto the bed if she only had time. Her head grew lighter as her curls caressed her face.
Teuila bit her lip.
“I’d better make breakfast,” she whispered in her ear. “Or I’ll end up eating you.”
Tessa nodded, a shiver running down her spine, she could not even remember which way she was turned. She staggered towards the bathroom, crashing into the furniture.
“I just need to untangle this,” Tessa said, running the brush through her brown hair.
“That’s easy mode,” Teuila said. “You should try my curls.”
The girl had taken powders from the cupboard and was mixing them in two bowls, some water smoking in the kettle.
“What delicacy are you cooking?”
“The usual, seared filet,” she added two tablespoons of amino acids and a sprinkle of vitamins to each bowl. “With a side salad.”
“For breakfast?”, Tessa raised an eyebrow.
Teuila shrugged.
“Can I ask for baked potatoes too?”
“No, but I can add an extra treat,” Teuila picked up a bag of chocolate sweetener.
“On the filet?”
“New recipe.”
Teuila put a spoon into each bowl and moved them to the table, then took the kettle and poured hot water into them until they were full. The suspended powders swirled in the current created by the trickle of water thrown at them with a gentle gurgling, turning the mixture gray and opaque.
“Et voila! It didn’t come out like in the movies, but it’s food in a container.”
Tessa wet her lips and shook her head.
“What a cook!” she said, stroking her arm and descending until their hands joined, fingers intertwined, palms pressed together.
Tessa sat down, grabbed the spoon with her free hand and dipped it into the cup, stirring the protein mixture. The powder thickened to a paste-like consistency. Tessa took a spoonful and put it in her mouth. There was no need to chew, there was never any need to chew on the Endeavour, it was amazing that humans had not forgotten how to do it. The taste was not bad, the sweetening powders did their tasty job. Of course, she couldn’t know what the food she saw in the movies tasted like, but her naive taste buds approved despite the lack of a standard.
There was a knock at the door.
“There he is,” Teuila got up and went to open the door.
A massive man with Samoan features entered and greeted her with a nod.
“Hello Sapati,” Tessa said.
“Are you ready?”
Tessa froze, spoon halfway between bowl and mouth.
“Sorry,” he said, wringing his hands. “It’s just… there’s something you need to see.”
Tessa frowned; she had never seen him so tense.
“Is everything all right?” Teuila asked.
“We may have… a small problem,” Sapati said. “I’ll tell you about it later, when maybe I know what to say…”
Tessa finished her breakfast, said goodbye to Teuila and went out with her brother. Sapati led her through the corridors of the third ring to the Gamma Bridge. The bulkheads opened with a puff and disappeared into the walls. They walked toward the fourth ring, letting their eyes wander through the tempered glass windows, contemplating the immensity of the cosmos. The Helix Nebula dominated the view, and despite Endeavour’s rotation, it remained within the field of view of every window on each of the ship’s six decks, from Alpha to Zeta. It appeared as a cloud of almost transparent whiteness, but Tessa knew from photos taken by the Hubble telescope that it looked like a giant eye returning the viewer’s gaze. Blue in the center, with an orange-yellow iris and a red outline that faded into the black infinity of space, almost like a crown of flames. No wonder it was one of the most photographed celestial objects. It was also called the Eye of God. Tessa preferred the more profane and fanciful version: the Eye of Sauron.
“Where are we going?” she asked keeping her eyes on the nebula.
“To the pool,” Sapati said.
“Then let’s go to my cabin first, I need to get my bathing suit.”
The look she got did not bode well.
“You won’t like what we found.”
The pool was a large circular room, devoid of any trappings. The pool basin, with a maximum depth of five feet, presented a clear, flat surface; no one was intent on relaxing in the water. The floor slowly descended into it, while a walkway surrounded it on either side, forming a perfect circle. Several people were clustered two radiants to the right, murmuring under their breath. One of them, with a net, was trying to catch something. Tessa and Sapati passed the group and joined their colleagues, who greeted them with nods and quiet words. Tessa flanked the man with the net to see what he was trying to retrieve.
The body of an infant.
“Fuck,” Tessa whispered. “Who found it?”
“It was old Sam,” a familiar voice said from behind her. “When he was cleaning the pool about an hour ago.”
Connor was dressed in black from his hoodie to the soles of his shoes, wore rectangular glasses, and sported his usual tight-lipped smile that made his cheeks sink into two boyish dimples.
“Hi, Connie,” Tessa said hugging him.
He was not as muscular as Sapati, but he was just as tall, and she had to stand on her toes.
“Did old Sam tell you anything else?” she asked when she came back to rest her heels.
“That’s all he noticed,” he shook his head. “We’ll have to wait for the lab analysis.”
The officer managed to grab the body and lift it, the swollen, purple skin cracking against the mesh of the net, causing foul-smelling bodily fluids to drip into the water. Tessa put her hand over her mouth and tried to stop herself from vomiting.
“Has anyone reported him missing?” she asked between her fingers.
“Not yet,” Connor said.
The pool doors opened with a puff and the sound of lone metal-soled boots echoed through the room. Father Radislav had entered and stood motionless, watching the scene. The priest wore a worn and faded brown robe, tied at the waist with a white rope. A necklace with a shiny bolt pendant dangled from his chest. Gloves with a metal plate sewn to the underside of his hand hung from his belt.
Suddenly he fell to his knees, as if his strength had left him, but he did not slump to the ground. He slipped the gloves from his belt, pulled them on, clasped his hands together as if trying to adjust them to his own size, and crouched down, tapping the metal plate on the floor with a metallic clang that broke the murmur of half-muttered conversation.
“Oh God,” Sapati huffed. “Here we go again…”
Father Radislav lowered his head until his forehead touched the floor, banging his fist more vehemently as he began to psalm.
CLANG!
Hail Endeavour, full of grace,
the Rumble is with thee.
CLANG!
Blessed art thou among ships
and blessed is the algorithm of your system.
CLANG!
Sacred vessel, keeper of the hundred,
preserve us humble passengers.
CLANG!
Nourish us in life,
recycle us in death.
Amen.
CLANG!
Hail Endeavour, full of grace,
the Rumble is with thee.
CLANG!
Blessed art thou among ships
and blessed is the algorithm of your system.
CLANG!
Sacred vessel, keeper of the hundred,
preserve us humble passengers.
CLANG!
Nourish us in life,
recycle us in death.
Amen.
CLANG!
“I hope he’s not trying to improvise a Mass,” Sapati whispered.
“He’s not doing anything wrong,” Tessa said, shaking her head. “Cut him some slack.”
“May he cut my ears some slack…” the big man muttered. “He’s pounding the floor like he wants to pierce it.”
Tessa sighed and walked out of the group toward the priest. When she was close, Father Radislav raised his head and stood again.
“Today we witness the inadequacy of man,” he said, as if he had just summed up a universal truth.
“Hello, Father,” Tessa said. “I guess you heard about what happened.”
“People who did that do not deserve to be welcomed into the Ship’s Rumble,” he said, then smiled at her. “Then again, Daughter of the Endeavour, we already knew the roar of the engines was not for everyone.”
“Have any of the faithful said anything to you? No child has been reported missing, and it seems very strange to me…”
“I haven’t celebrated Mass yet today.”
“Could you do me a favor and talk to them? People feel more comfortable opening up to a priest than to the authorities.”
“Of course, but…,” he said with a wry smile. “It would be more effective if you were there as well.”
Tessa smiled back.
“It is important for the chosen ones to be seen,” Father Radislav continued. “The faithful are waiting for nothing more than to be able to interact with those chosen by the Ship. It brings them closer to the Rumble.”
Tessa sighed; she disagreed with the strange religious ideologies surrounding the Endeavour, and it always made her uncomfortable to deal with the believers who idolized her. But if it would help solve the case, what harm could it do?
“I’ll see if I can stop by.”
“You should, if only to remind me to ask.”
Tessa raised an eyebrow, but before she could respond to the blackmail, Sapati appeared at her side.
“The captain wants to see us.”
Radislav began to open his mouth.
“Now,” the big man cut him off. “In his office.”
Tessa nodded.
“See you soon, Father,” she banged her fist against Radislav’s, hitting the plate as if knocking on a door. “Don’t forget to do your duty as a good crewman,” she added with a grin.
“See you soon,” Radislav said, bowing his head. “Daughter of the Ship.”
Tessa walked to Sapati’s side and left the pool.
“Chosen children of the ship…” the big man huffed as the doors closed behind them.
“Two every five years,” Tessa shrugged.
“These guys scare me.”
“They’re a little over the top…”
“Over the top?” he looked at her, eyes wide. “They’re crazy fanatics who worship the Endeavour like a deity!”
“They’re just people trying to get on with their lives… not everyone is as lucky as we are. I mean, I didn’t have parents, but all in all I’m healthy, and you and Teuila don’t have genetic defects either, your mother was born from an embryo, like me. Many of them are in bad shape…”
“Not that this justifies them to follow the nonsense of the priests.”
“No, but put yourself in their place: they have nothing. They cling to any hope, no matter how feeble or foolish it may be.”
“Ok, fine,” Sapati surrendered, spreading his arms wide. “I’m not angry with them.”
They reached the Gamma Bridge they had come from and headed in the opposite direction. The Helix Nebula was watching their every move.
“The fact is that extraction and incubation are processes devised and programmed by Earth scientists, and there is the law signed by Felicity Green and the First Fifty that attests to the implementation of the protocols nearly a thousand years ago,” the big man resumed more vehemently. “Of course, it is the ship that selects the couples who will have the right to procreate and the embryos that will be incubated, but only because analyzing all the genetic variants of each individual requires a computing power impossible for the human mind.”
“Maybe that’s the definition of ‘god’,” Tessa said with a wicked grin.
Sapati narrowed his eyes to a slit.
“There are countless better terms without mystical connotations,” he said, dismissing the provocation with a wave of his hand. “The processes they say are of divine origin are subject to human directives, that’s what drives me crazy, how can they not see that?”
“Oh… the human mind is very good at self-deception. As long as they don’t want to see it, they can ignore it,” she drummed her knuckles on the instruments stacked on either side of the hallway. “Like I said, any faint hope, no matter how crazy, gives them the strength to keep going. The fact that the Endeavour, a force greater than any human being, at least in terms of computing power, can guide their lives, gives them confidence,” she raised her arms. “It’s a way of thinking I don’t share either, but I can understand that some people need it.”
“But… they end up living in an illusion.”
“Yes.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
“For the life we live here…,” Tessa said, tapping on the pipes that ran along the corridor, resonating with a swinging metallic sound. “As long as they’re not a danger to themselves or others, it’s not a problem.”
“A danger I don’t think, at least for now, but having to deal with them is damn annoying, it’s like talking to the wall,” Sapati said. “Even worse, at least the walls shut up… I don’t know how you put up with all those priests buzzing around you.”
“They do the same to all those born from embryos,” Tessa shrugged. “They’re a bit pushy, but Father Radislav was always kind to me, especially when I was little and lacked role models.”
“And you don’t think there was an ulterior motive? The modus operandi of religious people has been the same since the beginning of time.”
Tessa remained silent.
“‘Give them to us as babies and they will be ours forever’,” Sapati continued. “Isn’t that what they said?”
“I don’t think Father Radislav is that mean. Maybe others are, but I think he can be trusted.”
“Yet he is trying to manipulate you into going to Mass.”
Tessa looked him in the face.
“I heard the warm invitation,” he said dismissively. “‘You should, if only to remind me to ask’. Nice way to let you decide, no pressure.”
“He didn’t really mean it.”
“It was moral blackmail.”
“I’m sure he’ll question the faithful anyway.”
“Maybe, but that doesn’t change the fact that his first instinct was manipulative.”
“He only said it because I was about to refuse…”
Sapati arched his eyebrows and gave her a look that said more than a thousand words.
Tessa sighed.
The bulkheads of the third ring opened in front of them into a large hall with perpendicular corridors that arched upward, following the circumference of the ship, and stairs leading to the inner and outer ring levels. Ahead of them, a symbol above other bulkheads signaled the next section of the Gamma Deck, leading to the head of the ship.
“It seems to me that you’re justifying them more than necessary,” Sapati insisted. “That’s all I’m saying.”
“You never give up, do you?”, huffed Tessa. “All right, he’s pushy and a little manipulative, are you happy now?”
“Don’t get mad,” he said, raising his hands.
“That doesn’t make him evil or dangerous.”
“I’m saying this because I love you, you know that, right? And so does my sister. I’m worried…”
“I’m not going to join the cult,” Tessa interrupted. “You can be sure of that.”
“I just wanted to make sure because…”
“Because you’re a pain in the ass!” Tessa laughed and punched him in the shoulder.
Sapati laughed in return.
“And so, so stubborn! You save yourself because you are tender, and you have a kick-ass sister…”
“I always suspected that you were my friend to get to her.”
“Why else would I put up with all this?”, grinned Tessa, pointing at him from head to toe.
“I handed it to you on a silver platter,” Sapati sighed.
They crossed the second ring in silence, and as they entered the last section of the Gamma Bridge they had to cross, Sapati resumed speaking.
“You have a distinct intelligence; did I ever tell you that?”
“You’re usually stingy with compliments,” Tessa said, looking at him quizzically, expecting a jab. “Let me know next time and I’ll make sure to record it.”
“I’m serious, that’s why Radislav’s manipulations…”
Tessa gave him a dirty look.
“Intentional or innocent as they may be,” he hastened to add, raising his hands. “That’s why they don’t take root, but the others… it’s the others I worry about. Look at Connor, not to go that far, he got caught up in the cult.”
“Connor didn’t become a priest…”
“No, but he is a believer.”
“He just likes Father Radislav more than I do,” Tessa shrugged. “After all, he was a father figure to him as well.”
Sapati snapped his mouth.
“My mother has been fighting for a long time to change the way embryos are raised. The fact that they are left to the automaticity of the ship for so long is not good, there are several studies that point to the crucial importance of human contact, especially in the first months and years of life.”
“We are not abandoned to the machines…,” said Tessa, speaking in the plural for some reason unknown to her, perhaps making herself a spokesperson for the embryonic community. What would she do next? Start a cryogenic union? “I know I complain about it a lot, but I don’t think I missed human contact. Of course, it’s not the same as having real parents…”
“Often, though, those who volunteer to take care of the children are church members or the priests themselves, as Radislav did with you and Connor.”
“And you don’t think they do it out of the goodness of their hearts?”
“There is that too,” the big man admitted. “They see you as children of their god. Hell, you’re practically the equivalent of a Messiah.”
“Two messiahs every five years,” Tessa laughed. “Ancient Earth religions would have killed for that!”
“You see?” Sapati widened his eyes. “It would be crazy of them if they didn’t do their best to take care of you…”
“…and then put us on display to attract new believers.”
“That’s exactly what I wanted to say. They also do it to get you on their side, to get you to join the cult. Because not only do the cultists look up to you as a leader, but the entire crew does as well. You represent the future, the people who will one day reach Elpis. They need you on their side to strengthen their beliefs and recruit more followers.”
“You talk about them like a sect.”
“I don’t know what they are,” Sapati sighed. “I’m just afraid of fanatics, fanatics of any kind. If their ideas ever take hold…”
“I wouldn’t worry,” Tessa said. “As long as we have a military hierarchy and we’re not in a democracy, their opinions don’t count for anything.”
“Until we have a captain with a bolt around his neck.”
“I doubt any sane captain would ever propose a cleric as his successor, let alone be approved by the Bridge.”
They opened the bulkheads and entered the first ring, where the command deck and most of the infrastructure for proper navigation was located. They found themselves in a room not unlike any other that connected the bridge sections. The ship had been built in a modular way and it was easy to get lost if you did not know it well. The command deck and the captain’s office were near the Alpha Bridge, the names were given in clockwise order from a frontal view, counterclockwise for the entire crew, who, unlike those who had designed and built the ship, would die instantly if they stood anywhere in front of the ship. They descended the stairs to the left, feeling the gradual increase in gravity with each step and spreading their arms wide to keep their balance as they moved to a level spinning faster than the one from which they had come. They found themselves in a room identical to the one they had left. They took the corridor to the left and passed several doors, then the bulkheads of the Beta Bridge, more doors, and finally the Alpha Bridge from which they reached the captain’s office.
The door was open.
Irvin Harris had taken the helm of Endeavour a few years earlier, differing from his predecessor by a more jovial disposition, but today he was drumming his fingers on his desk and his face was dark.
“Come in and close the door,” he said in a tone that allowed no response.
Sapati hurried into the study and Tessa closed the door behind them.
“Have a seat,” Harris gestured to a chair on the other side of the desk.
Sapati looked around doubtfully.
Given the big man’s size, Tessa sometimes forgot that he was only a few years older than she was and that he sometimes got worked up over nothing, especially when the captain was in a bad mood, like a child trying to hide a mischief.
Tessa looked around; Harris rarely moved office items. On the desk were the same photos from when he first took office, a new one had appeared just the year before, when his second child had been born, and she was sure it would remain a photo of a toothless infant as long as he remained in office. On the side was the diary in which Felicity Green had drafted the Code signed by the First Fifty a thousand years earlier. When she had asked him if the back cover had been glued to the wood or if there was some other reason he always kept it in plain sight, Harris had given her a wry smile and simply replied, ‘Lest we forget’. Other volumes, technical manuals for the ship’s systems, were stacked on a dresser, and the computer screen was black. Three chairs were leaning against the right wall; she took one and placed it next to the other in front of the desk.
They sat down.
“I assume you know what happened in the pool.”
They nodded.
“Good,” Harris said. “Or rather, bad. It’s not the first one we’ve found around the ship.”
Tessa opened her mouth wide.
“A few weeks ago, maintenance found the body of an infant in the greenhouses of the sixth ring. It was half decomposed, but it was clear that it had not gone through the recycling program. Since then, three more have been found in the same manner, two days apart, at which point I increased surveillance of the greenhouses and we haven’t found any more…”
“Until today,” Tessa concluded.
Harris nodded.
“Whoever it is is not going to stop.”
“Do you have any suspicions?”
“No, and we have no idea of the motive either,” he leaned back. “I waited until I got the results of the genetic analysis before talking to you.”
“What did you find out?”
“The reason no one has filed a complaint is that they are all unregistered children.”
“Born outside the Match Mate system?”
“Probably.”
“Illegal babies…” Tessa bit her lip. “Why kill them? They would have been sentenced to death anyway.”
“What a fucking society we live in,” Sapati sighed.
“The only one possible,” Harris said, frowning. “But not one where individuals are allowed to take justice into their own hands. There is someone on this ship who has gotten a little carried away, and no matter how much violence he dispenses under the Code, he does not have the authority to do so. I have called you to my office because you are among the best investigators we have: take the case and arrest the perpetrator.”
“He’s not doing anything wrong,” Tessa said, shaking her head. “Cut him some slack.”
“May he cut my ears some slack…” the big man muttered. “He’s pounding the floor like he wants to pierce it.”
Tessa sighed and walked out of the group toward the priest. When she was close, Father Radislav raised his head and stood again.
“Today we witness the inadequacy of man,” he said, as if he had just summed up a universal truth.
“Hello, Father,” Tessa said. “I guess you heard about what happened.”
“People who did that do not deserve to be welcomed into the Ship’s Rumble,” he said, then smiled at her. “Then again, Daughter of the Endeavour, we already knew the roar of the engines was not for everyone.”
“Have any of the faithful said anything to you? No child has been reported missing, and it seems very strange to me…”
“I haven’t celebrated Mass yet today.”
“Could you do me a favor and talk to them? People feel more comfortable opening up to a priest than to the authorities.”
“Of course, but…,” he said with a wry smile. “It would be more effective if you were there as well.”
Tessa smiled back.
“It is important for the chosen ones to be seen,” Father Radislav continued. “The faithful are waiting for nothing more than to be able to interact with those chosen by the Ship. It brings them closer to the Rumble.”
Tessa sighed; she disagreed with the strange religious ideologies surrounding the Endeavour, and it always made her uncomfortable to deal with the believers who idolized her. But if it would help solve the case, what harm could it do?
“I’ll see if I can stop by.”
“You should, if only to remind me to ask.”
Tessa raised an eyebrow, but before she could respond to the blackmail, Sapati appeared at her side.
“The captain wants to see us.”
Radislav began to open his mouth.
“Now,” the big man cut him off. “In his office.”
Tessa nodded.
“See you soon, Father,” she banged her fist against Radislav’s, hitting the plate as if knocking on a door. “Don’t forget to do your duty as a good crewman,” she added with a grin.
“See you soon,” Radislav said, bowing his head. “Daughter of the Ship.”
Tessa walked to Sapati’s side and left the pool.
“Chosen children of the ship…” the big man huffed as the doors closed behind them.
“Two every five years,” Tessa shrugged.
“These guys scare me.”
“They’re a little over the top…”
“Over the top?” he looked at her, eyes wide. “They’re crazy fanatics who worship the Endeavour like a deity!”
“They’re just people trying to get on with their lives… not everyone is as lucky as we are. I mean, I didn’t have parents, but all in all I’m healthy, and you and Teuila don’t have genetic defects either, your mother was born from an embryo, like me. Many of them are in bad shape…”
“Not that this justifies them to follow the nonsense of the priests.”
“No, but put yourself in their place: they have nothing. They cling to any hope, no matter how feeble or foolish it may be.”
“Ok, fine,” Sapati surrendered, spreading his arms wide. “I’m not angry with them.”
They reached the Gamma Bridge they had come from and headed in the opposite direction. The Helix Nebula was watching their every move.
“The fact is that extraction and incubation are processes devised and programmed by Earth scientists, and there is the law signed by Felicity Green and the First Fifty that attests to the implementation of the protocols nearly a thousand years ago,” the big man resumed more vehemently. “Of course, it is the ship that selects the couples who will have the right to procreate and the embryos that will be incubated, but only because analyzing all the genetic variants of each individual requires a computing power impossible for the human mind.”
“Maybe that’s the definition of ‘god’,” Tessa said with a wicked grin.
Sapati narrowed his eyes to a slit.
“There are countless better terms without mystical connotations,” he said, dismissing the provocation with a wave of his hand. “The processes they say are of divine origin are subject to human directives, that’s what drives me crazy, how can they not see that?”
“Oh… the human mind is very good at self-deception. As long as they don’t want to see it, they can ignore it,” she drummed her knuckles on the instruments stacked on either side of the hallway. “Like I said, any faint hope, no matter how crazy, gives them the strength to keep going. The fact that the Endeavour, a force greater than any human being, at least in terms of computing power, can guide their lives, gives them confidence,” she raised her arms. “It’s a way of thinking I don’t share either, but I can understand that some people need it.”
“But… they end up living in an illusion.”
“Yes.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
“For the life we live here…,” Tessa said, tapping on the pipes that ran along the corridor, resonating with a swinging metallic sound. “As long as they’re not a danger to themselves or others, it’s not a problem.”
“A danger I don’t think, at least for now, but having to deal with them is damn annoying, it’s like talking to the wall,” Sapati said. “Even worse, at least the walls shut up… I don’t know how you put up with all those priests buzzing around you.”
“They do the same to all those born from embryos,” Tessa shrugged. “They’re a bit pushy, but Father Radislav was always kind to me, especially when I was little and lacked role models.”
“And you don’t think there was an ulterior motive? The modus operandi of religious people has been the same since the beginning of time.”
Tessa remained silent.
“‘Give them to us as babies and they will be ours forever’,” Sapati continued. “Isn’t that what they said?”
“I don’t think Father Radislav is that mean. Maybe others are, but I think he can be trusted.”
“Yet he is trying to manipulate you into going to Mass.”
Tessa looked him in the face.
“I heard the warm invitation,” he said dismissively. “‘You should, if only to remind me to ask’. Nice way to let you decide, no pressure.”
“He didn’t really mean it.”
“It was moral blackmail.”
“I’m sure he’ll question the faithful anyway.”
“Maybe, but that doesn’t change the fact that his first instinct was manipulative.”
“He only said it because I was about to refuse…”
Sapati arched his eyebrows and gave her a look that said more than a thousand words.
Tessa sighed.
The bulkheads of the third ring opened in front of them into a large hall with perpendicular corridors that arched upward, following the circumference of the ship, and stairs leading to the inner and outer ring levels. Ahead of them, a symbol above other bulkheads signaled the next section of the Gamma Deck, leading to the head of the ship.
“It seems to me that you’re justifying them more than necessary,” Sapati insisted. “That’s all I’m saying.”
“You never give up, do you?”, huffed Tessa. “All right, he’s pushy and a little manipulative, are you happy now?”
“Don’t get mad,” he said, raising his hands.
“That doesn’t make him evil or dangerous.”
“I’m saying this because I love you, you know that, right? And so does my sister. I’m worried…”
“I’m not going to join the cult,” Tessa interrupted. “You can be sure of that.”
“I just wanted to make sure because…”
“Because you’re a pain in the ass!” Tessa laughed and punched him in the shoulder.
Sapati laughed in return.
“And so, so stubborn! You save yourself because you are tender, and you have a kick-ass sister…”
“I always suspected that you were my friend to get to her.”
“Why else would I put up with all this?”, grinned Tessa, pointing at him from head to toe.
“I handed it to you on a silver platter,” Sapati sighed.
They crossed the second ring in silence, and as they entered the last section of the Gamma Bridge they had to cross, Sapati resumed speaking.
“You have a distinct intelligence; did I ever tell you that?”
“You’re usually stingy with compliments,” Tessa said, looking at him quizzically, expecting a jab. “Let me know next time and I’ll make sure to record it.”
“I’m serious, that’s why Radislav’s manipulations…”
Tessa gave him a dirty look.
“Intentional or innocent as they may be,” he hastened to add, raising his hands. “That’s why they don’t take root, but the others… it’s the others I worry about. Look at Connor, not to go that far, he got caught up in the cult.”
“Connor didn’t become a priest…”
“No, but he is a believer.”
“He just likes Father Radislav more than I do,” Tessa shrugged. “After all, he was a father figure to him as well.”
Sapati snapped his mouth.
“My mother has been fighting for a long time to change the way embryos are raised. The fact that they are left to the automaticity of the ship for so long is not good, there are several studies that point to the crucial importance of human contact, especially in the first months and years of life.”
“We are not abandoned to the machines…,” said Tessa, speaking in the plural for some reason unknown to her, perhaps making herself a spokesperson for the embryonic community. What would she do next? Start a cryogenic union? “I know I complain about it a lot, but I don’t think I missed human contact. Of course, it’s not the same as having real parents…”
“Often, though, those who volunteer to take care of the children are church members or the priests themselves, as Radislav did with you and Connor.”
“And you don’t think they do it out of the goodness of their hearts?”
“There is that too,” the big man admitted. “They see you as children of their god. Hell, you’re practically the equivalent of a Messiah.”
“Two messiahs every five years,” Tessa laughed. “Ancient Earth religions would have killed for that!”
“You see?” Sapati widened his eyes. “It would be crazy of them if they didn’t do their best to take care of you…”
“…and then put us on display to attract new believers.”
“That’s exactly what I wanted to say. They also do it to get you on their side, to get you to join the cult. Because not only do the cultists look up to you as a leader, but the entire crew does as well. You represent the future, the people who will one day reach Elpis. They need you on their side to strengthen their beliefs and recruit more followers.”
“You talk about them like a sect.”
“I don’t know what they are,” Sapati sighed. “I’m just afraid of fanatics, fanatics of any kind. If their ideas ever take hold…”
“I wouldn’t worry,” Tessa said. “As long as we have a military hierarchy and we’re not in a democracy, their opinions don’t count for anything.”
“Until we have a captain with a bolt around his neck.”
“I doubt any sane captain would ever propose a cleric as his successor, let alone be approved by the Bridge.”
They opened the bulkheads and entered the first ring, where the command deck and most of the infrastructure for proper navigation was located. They found themselves in a room not unlike any other that connected the bridge sections. The ship had been built in a modular way and it was easy to get lost if you did not know it well. The command deck and the captain’s office were near the Alpha Bridge, the names were given in clockwise order from a frontal view, counterclockwise for the entire crew, who, unlike those who had designed and built the ship, would die instantly if they stood anywhere in front of the ship. They descended the stairs to the left, feeling the gradual increase in gravity with each step and spreading their arms wide to keep their balance as they moved to a level spinning faster than the one from which they had come. They found themselves in a room identical to the one they had left. They took the corridor to the left and passed several doors, then the bulkheads of the Beta Bridge, more doors, and finally the Alpha Bridge from which they reached the captain’s office.
The door was open.
Irvin Harris had taken the helm of Endeavour a few years earlier, differing from his predecessor by a more jovial disposition, but today he was drumming his fingers on his desk and his face was dark.
“Come in and close the door,” he said in a tone that allowed no response.
Sapati hurried into the study and Tessa closed the door behind them.
“Have a seat,” Harris gestured to a chair on the other side of the desk.
Sapati looked around doubtfully.
Given the big man’s size, Tessa sometimes forgot that he was only a few years older than she was and that he sometimes got worked up over nothing, especially when the captain was in a bad mood, like a child trying to hide a mischief.
Tessa looked around; Harris rarely moved office items. On the desk were the same photos from when he first took office, a new one had appeared just the year before, when his second child had been born, and she was sure it would remain a photo of a toothless infant as long as he remained in office. On the side was the diary in which Felicity Green had drafted the Code signed by the First Fifty a thousand years earlier. When she had asked him if the back cover had been glued to the wood or if there was some other reason he always kept it in plain sight, Harris had given her a wry smile and simply replied, ‘Lest we forget’. Other volumes, technical manuals for the ship’s systems, were stacked on a dresser, and the computer screen was black. Three chairs were leaning against the right wall; she took one and placed it next to the other in front of the desk.
They sat down.
“I assume you know what happened in the pool.”
They nodded.
“Good,” Harris said. “Or rather, bad. It’s not the first one we’ve found around the ship.”
Tessa opened her mouth wide.
“A few weeks ago, maintenance found the body of an infant in the greenhouses of the sixth ring. It was half decomposed, but it was clear that it had not gone through the recycling program. Since then, three more have been found in the same manner, two days apart, at which point I increased surveillance of the greenhouses and we haven’t found any more…”
“Until today,” Tessa concluded.
Harris nodded.
“Whoever it is is not going to stop.”
“Do you have any suspicions?”
“No, and we have no idea of the motive either,” he leaned back. “I waited until I got the results of the genetic analysis before talking to you.”
“What did you find out?”
“The reason no one has filed a complaint is that they are all unregistered children.”
“Born outside the Match Mate system?”
“Probably.”
“Illegal babies…” Tessa bit her lip. “Why kill them? They would have been sentenced to death anyway.”
“What a fucking society we live in,” Sapati sighed.
“The only one possible,” Harris said, frowning. “But not one where individuals are allowed to take justice into their own hands. There is someone on this ship who has gotten a little carried away, and no matter how much violence he dispenses under the Code, he does not have the authority to do so. I have called you to my office because you are among the best investigators we have: take the case and arrest the perpetrator.”
* * *
At that moment, the disgust I felt at the death of those children was replaced by a mixture of terror and excitement: I had never conducted an investigation! A real investigation! Crime is rare on Endeavour, and while there are courses on every subject in the database, there is no academy where you can train. I guess I joined the ship’s ‘law enforcement’, if you can call it that, out of a combination of a love of crime shows and a lack of volunteers. I learned most of what I know about conducting an investigation from watching Lt. Columbo and reading Sherlock Holmes. That background and a flair for attention to detail and logical, deductive reasoning were deemed sufficient.
Detectives in detective stories are always ‘the best’ in their field, working day and night to solve their assigned cases, regardless of danger, and endowed with a strength of will and self-sacrifice beyond human comprehension. How I wish I had the same confidence! I have only a fraction of their experience, I do not know if I can do the job. I don’t even know if I will be as ready to face dangers that sincerely hope will not arise. To tell you the truth, I don’t even have the same spirit of self-sacrifice. I am afraid of this case, but even now all I can think of is to go back to Teuila and share it with her. I want to tell her everything, think about the clues together.
Maybe I shouldn’t involve her so much… it’s still about murdered babies, not the happiest of subjects.
This is my first real case; I don’t even know where to start.
The law established by Felicity Green and the First Fifties after the Awakening requires that any child born outside the Match Mate system be taken immediately for recycling. This is because Endeavour cannot produce resources for more than five hundred people, and births must be strictly controlled, both to ensure air, food, and water for all, and to prevent the deterioration of the human gene pool, since the survival of too small a population with limited variability causes the onset of numerous genetic diseases.
If the infant samples were not recognized by the system, it means that they were not enrolled. Each person must be entered into the database with complete biometric data, including genome sequencing, so that the ship’s systems can check the compatibility of all crew members and identify the couples most likely to produce healthy children.
The Right to Procreate is a benefit granted to a single couple each year, drawn on the anniversary of the Awakening, May seventeenth. It is therefore a special privilege, and while free love is encouraged on the ship, only those who are eligible can procreate. This should make it clear to anyone reading this journal how special it is here on Endeavour, to be able to have children of your own, and consequently how absurd it seems for anyone to get rid of them.
It is not uncommon for illegal children to be born, especially in the last rings of the ship, the ninth and tenth, where the most mutated and unfortunate people who struggle to obey the laws of procreation seek refuge, but I had never heard of anyone voluntarily getting rid of a child in secret.
It hurts to be excited about the case, but my brain cannot ignore the rush of serotonin from a fresh stimulus, something new to do.
I have never conducted an investigation before!
Detectives in detective stories are always ‘the best’ in their field, working day and night to solve their assigned cases, regardless of danger, and endowed with a strength of will and self-sacrifice beyond human comprehension. How I wish I had the same confidence! I have only a fraction of their experience, I do not know if I can do the job. I don’t even know if I will be as ready to face dangers that sincerely hope will not arise. To tell you the truth, I don’t even have the same spirit of self-sacrifice. I am afraid of this case, but even now all I can think of is to go back to Teuila and share it with her. I want to tell her everything, think about the clues together.
Maybe I shouldn’t involve her so much… it’s still about murdered babies, not the happiest of subjects.
This is my first real case; I don’t even know where to start.
The law established by Felicity Green and the First Fifties after the Awakening requires that any child born outside the Match Mate system be taken immediately for recycling. This is because Endeavour cannot produce resources for more than five hundred people, and births must be strictly controlled, both to ensure air, food, and water for all, and to prevent the deterioration of the human gene pool, since the survival of too small a population with limited variability causes the onset of numerous genetic diseases.
If the infant samples were not recognized by the system, it means that they were not enrolled. Each person must be entered into the database with complete biometric data, including genome sequencing, so that the ship’s systems can check the compatibility of all crew members and identify the couples most likely to produce healthy children.
The Right to Procreate is a benefit granted to a single couple each year, drawn on the anniversary of the Awakening, May seventeenth. It is therefore a special privilege, and while free love is encouraged on the ship, only those who are eligible can procreate. This should make it clear to anyone reading this journal how special it is here on Endeavour, to be able to have children of your own, and consequently how absurd it seems for anyone to get rid of them.
It is not uncommon for illegal children to be born, especially in the last rings of the ship, the ninth and tenth, where the most mutated and unfortunate people who struggle to obey the laws of procreation seek refuge, but I had never heard of anyone voluntarily getting rid of a child in secret.
It hurts to be excited about the case, but my brain cannot ignore the rush of serotonin from a fresh stimulus, something new to do.
I have never conducted an investigation before!
May 12, 3563
In mystery movies, the killers are always evil geniuses who plan the murder down to the last detail and have a complicated plan that remains a mystery until the very end. The investigators follow their trail with great difficulty and try to put the pieces together, unsuccessfully, until in the end a single detail brings everything together and the solution becomes clear. In reality, I don’t know if this is the case. From the news articles left in our database, it does not seem that there were many criminals who were disciplined enough to study a plan and wait for the most opportune moment. As for the investigators, I doubt that they worked late into the night every day, and that a single personal revelation was enough to connect a myriad of pieces that seemed unconnected until a moment before.
Certainly, when the Endeavour left, no one expected the crime rate to be above zero. The original two hundred passengers had been carefully selected. They were, after all, the first people chosen to terraform Elpis: they had been subjected to numerous tests and supervised by a team of psychologists to prepare them for what was to come. They were well-balanced people with a strong sense of duty and a penchant for teamwork.
Another thing no one expected was that after only fifty years, half of them would be awakened from cryogenic sleep by a collision with an asteroid, and the fifty survivors would have to form a society that could last over a thousand years, with the purpose of transporting the hundred still asleep and the cargo of embryos to their destination. All this without going mad or self-destructing, and without being able to use the autopilot for landing, since the ship’s maneuvering systems were damaged.
So we find ourselves on Endeavour with a population that is very different from the original one, most of the individuals have health problems, both physical and mental. Genetic diseases rage because of the small number of individuals, causing inevitable redundancy in the genetic code, making recessive traits homozygous that would otherwise cause no harm. Humans suffer from cramped spaces, contrived lifestyles, and a lack of purpose other than a goal projected far beyond what anyone can hope to survive.
This means that we find ourselves without the means to counteract the psychological distress in which a large portion of the passengers find themselves, and certainly at the time of departure no one had even thought to provide us with adequate preparation to counteract violent crimes. Many other ships are on their way behind ours, the first of which is expected to arrive a few decades after our landing. Barely two generations, they must have thought, surely too little time for the colonists to have trouble holding together a population born of two hundred individuals in perfect mental and physical health.
So I find myself investigating a series of murders with little more than a smattering of basic concepts: a few video courses, my instincts, and a nebula of hours spent watching detective series.
Certainly, when the Endeavour left, no one expected the crime rate to be above zero. The original two hundred passengers had been carefully selected. They were, after all, the first people chosen to terraform Elpis: they had been subjected to numerous tests and supervised by a team of psychologists to prepare them for what was to come. They were well-balanced people with a strong sense of duty and a penchant for teamwork.
Another thing no one expected was that after only fifty years, half of them would be awakened from cryogenic sleep by a collision with an asteroid, and the fifty survivors would have to form a society that could last over a thousand years, with the purpose of transporting the hundred still asleep and the cargo of embryos to their destination. All this without going mad or self-destructing, and without being able to use the autopilot for landing, since the ship’s maneuvering systems were damaged.
So we find ourselves on Endeavour with a population that is very different from the original one, most of the individuals have health problems, both physical and mental. Genetic diseases rage because of the small number of individuals, causing inevitable redundancy in the genetic code, making recessive traits homozygous that would otherwise cause no harm. Humans suffer from cramped spaces, contrived lifestyles, and a lack of purpose other than a goal projected far beyond what anyone can hope to survive.
This means that we find ourselves without the means to counteract the psychological distress in which a large portion of the passengers find themselves, and certainly at the time of departure no one had even thought to provide us with adequate preparation to counteract violent crimes. Many other ships are on their way behind ours, the first of which is expected to arrive a few decades after our landing. Barely two generations, they must have thought, surely too little time for the colonists to have trouble holding together a population born of two hundred individuals in perfect mental and physical health.
So I find myself investigating a series of murders with little more than a smattering of basic concepts: a few video courses, my instincts, and a nebula of hours spent watching detective series.
* * *
The genetic laboratory was located on the second ring, at the very spot where the asteroid impact caused the Awakening. One-third of the ring had been destroyed. The crew had salvaged and repaired whatever machinery they could and set up a makeshift laboratory on the third ring, in a warehouse emptied of the materials used to repair the damage. The new biological lab was critical for analyzing samples entering the recycling chain to prevent the release of dangerous bacteria.
Tessa had never been inside where the recycling took place; when someone she knew had died, she had always witnessed the final goodbye from the other side of the glass. She had always preferred not to think about what fertilized the soil in the greenhouses where they grew fruits and vegetables. They were all part of the great circle of life. Or, as Sapati called it, the great circle of dinner.
The doors opened disappearing into the walls, revealing a whitewashed room. Recycling workers in lab coats wandered among the steel stretchers on which corpses were covered with white sheets. A door to the last farewell room opened, and a doctor carried through a stretcher with the body of a bare-faced woman.
“She will always live in our hearts,” came the voices of friends and family from the corridor, muffled by the glass, reciting the traditional formula. “She will always live in and around us, becoming part of the ship’s ecosystem.”
The door closed again, cutting off the wakeful murmur. The doctor covered the elderly woman’s face and led the body to the bioscanner, preparing it for final analysis before beginning the recycling process. Tessa and Sapati walked across the room to another room to the right, where Connor sat slumped in his chair in front of a terminal.
“Hello Connie,” Tessa greeted him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Hi Tess,” he said without taking his eyes off the monitor.
“Any news?”
“The system finished analyzing the data a few hours ago,” he pushed his glasses up his nose. “I was just looking at it.”
Tessa and Sapati took chairs and sat on either side of him.
“After the sequencing was finished, I ran a comparative analysis against the ship’s genomic database to find the most similar parental pairs,” Connor said. “I excluded any genomes belonging to people who were dead, too young, or too old to conceive.”
“Did it return many results?” asked Sapati.
“Several: twenty-four possible parents, including fathers and mothers.”
The big man whistled widening his eyes.
“Count on a pretty large margin of error, the parental combinations that could have produced the genomes of these babies are high,” Connor said with a shrug. “Besides, the babies are unrelated.”
“That doesn’t narrow the field,” Tessa sighed. “Can’t the system tell us, for each infant, which pairs are most likely from the pool of twenty-four candidates?”
“Yes,” Connor said. “But from the error rate I’ve seen… let’s say you have the same chance of getting them right if you pointed at two random people blindfolded.”
“Then I’d say we don’t need it.”
“But there is good news: they are all between the Eighth, Ninth and Tenth.”
“At least we won’t have to walk too far to question them,” Sapati said with a sardonic smile.
The analyst sent the table of twenty-four suspects to their palmtop computer. Each name was associated with the probability, expressed as a percentage, that it had sired each of the five dead babies. The list was sorted according to the last field: the living cabin assigned to each individual.
“Thank you Connie,” Tessa said.
“As you can see, the odds are a bit…”
“They vary between…” Sapati brought his face closer to the screen.
“Forty to ninety percent,” Connor said.
Tessa tucked her hair behind her ears and tilted her head to the side, studying the numbers.
Tessa had never been inside where the recycling took place; when someone she knew had died, she had always witnessed the final goodbye from the other side of the glass. She had always preferred not to think about what fertilized the soil in the greenhouses where they grew fruits and vegetables. They were all part of the great circle of life. Or, as Sapati called it, the great circle of dinner.
The doors opened disappearing into the walls, revealing a whitewashed room. Recycling workers in lab coats wandered among the steel stretchers on which corpses were covered with white sheets. A door to the last farewell room opened, and a doctor carried through a stretcher with the body of a bare-faced woman.
“She will always live in our hearts,” came the voices of friends and family from the corridor, muffled by the glass, reciting the traditional formula. “She will always live in and around us, becoming part of the ship’s ecosystem.”
The door closed again, cutting off the wakeful murmur. The doctor covered the elderly woman’s face and led the body to the bioscanner, preparing it for final analysis before beginning the recycling process. Tessa and Sapati walked across the room to another room to the right, where Connor sat slumped in his chair in front of a terminal.
“Hello Connie,” Tessa greeted him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Hi Tess,” he said without taking his eyes off the monitor.
“Any news?”
“The system finished analyzing the data a few hours ago,” he pushed his glasses up his nose. “I was just looking at it.”
Tessa and Sapati took chairs and sat on either side of him.
“After the sequencing was finished, I ran a comparative analysis against the ship’s genomic database to find the most similar parental pairs,” Connor said. “I excluded any genomes belonging to people who were dead, too young, or too old to conceive.”
“Did it return many results?” asked Sapati.
“Several: twenty-four possible parents, including fathers and mothers.”
The big man whistled widening his eyes.
“Count on a pretty large margin of error, the parental combinations that could have produced the genomes of these babies are high,” Connor said with a shrug. “Besides, the babies are unrelated.”
“That doesn’t narrow the field,” Tessa sighed. “Can’t the system tell us, for each infant, which pairs are most likely from the pool of twenty-four candidates?”
“Yes,” Connor said. “But from the error rate I’ve seen… let’s say you have the same chance of getting them right if you pointed at two random people blindfolded.”
“Then I’d say we don’t need it.”
“But there is good news: they are all between the Eighth, Ninth and Tenth.”
“At least we won’t have to walk too far to question them,” Sapati said with a sardonic smile.
The analyst sent the table of twenty-four suspects to their palmtop computer. Each name was associated with the probability, expressed as a percentage, that it had sired each of the five dead babies. The list was sorted according to the last field: the living cabin assigned to each individual.
“Thank you Connie,” Tessa said.
“As you can see, the odds are a bit…”
“They vary between…” Sapati brought his face closer to the screen.
“Forty to ninety percent,” Connor said.
Tessa tucked her hair behind her ears and tilted her head to the side, studying the numbers.
Name - B1 - B2 - B3 - B4 - B5 - Ring - Cabin
Emma Johnson - 53% - 68% - 65% - 76% - 75% - 8 - 365
Ethan Thomson - 71% - 53% - 43% - 56% - 54% - 8 - 374
Olivia Davis - 66% - 47% - 79% - 68% - 66% - 8 - 380
Noah Wilson - 42% - 86% - 47% - 43% - 42% - 8 - 386
Sophia Roberts - 75% - 40% - 86% - 82% - 83% - 8 - 393
Liam Anderson - 82% - 73% - 41% - 62% - 61% - 8 - 396
Ava Martinez - 58% - 57% - 72% - 45% - 44% - 8 - 398
Mason Lee - 49% - 81% - 56% - 89% - 89% - 9 - 405
Isabella Scott - 85% - 62% - 84% - 52% - 51% - 9 - 409
Lucas Wright - 45% - 44% - 66% - 79% - 79% - 9 - 411
Mia Phillips - 79% - 78% - 49% - 47% - 46% - 9 - 422
Aiden Adams - 63% - 51% - 88% - 84% - 85% - 9 - 432
Harper Riguez - 43% - 88% - 60% - 66% - 67% - 9 - 437
Elijah Hernan - 89% - 65% - 45% - 40% - 41% - 9 - 448
Charlotte Bailey - 52% - 42% - 81% - 74% - 73% - 10 - 452
Logan Foster - 67% - 76% - 69% - 58% - 59% - 10 - 459
Amelia Campbell - 76% - 50% - 53% - 42% - 43% - 10 - 471
Benjamin Reed - 48% - 89% - 40% - 87% - 88% - 10 - 476
Abigail Turner - 81% - 59% - 77% - 54% - 53% - 10 - 482
James Morgan - 55% - 46% - 58% - 81% - 82% - 10 - 483
Evelyn Collins - 69% - 84% - 89% - 63% - 64% - 10 - 487
Daniel Cooper - 44% - 70% - 63% - 49% - 48% - 10 - 494
Emily Parker - 87% - 55% - 42% - 88% - 87% - 10 - 495
Samuel Mitchell - 60% - 41% - 75% - 70% - 70% - 10 - 498
Emma Johnson - 53% - 68% - 65% - 76% - 75% - 8 - 365
Ethan Thomson - 71% - 53% - 43% - 56% - 54% - 8 - 374
Olivia Davis - 66% - 47% - 79% - 68% - 66% - 8 - 380
Noah Wilson - 42% - 86% - 47% - 43% - 42% - 8 - 386
Sophia Roberts - 75% - 40% - 86% - 82% - 83% - 8 - 393
Liam Anderson - 82% - 73% - 41% - 62% - 61% - 8 - 396
Ava Martinez - 58% - 57% - 72% - 45% - 44% - 8 - 398
Mason Lee - 49% - 81% - 56% - 89% - 89% - 9 - 405
Isabella Scott - 85% - 62% - 84% - 52% - 51% - 9 - 409
Lucas Wright - 45% - 44% - 66% - 79% - 79% - 9 - 411
Mia Phillips - 79% - 78% - 49% - 47% - 46% - 9 - 422
Aiden Adams - 63% - 51% - 88% - 84% - 85% - 9 - 432
Harper Riguez - 43% - 88% - 60% - 66% - 67% - 9 - 437
Elijah Hernan - 89% - 65% - 45% - 40% - 41% - 9 - 448
Charlotte Bailey - 52% - 42% - 81% - 74% - 73% - 10 - 452
Logan Foster - 67% - 76% - 69% - 58% - 59% - 10 - 459
Amelia Campbell - 76% - 50% - 53% - 42% - 43% - 10 - 471
Benjamin Reed - 48% - 89% - 40% - 87% - 88% - 10 - 476
Abigail Turner - 81% - 59% - 77% - 54% - 53% - 10 - 482
James Morgan - 55% - 46% - 58% - 81% - 82% - 10 - 483
Evelyn Collins - 69% - 84% - 89% - 63% - 64% - 10 - 487
Daniel Cooper - 44% - 70% - 63% - 49% - 48% - 10 - 494
Emily Parker - 87% - 55% - 42% - 88% - 87% - 10 - 495
Samuel Mitchell - 60% - 41% - 75% - 70% - 70% - 10 - 498
Some crew members, such as Noah Wilson and Elijah Hernan, had very high percentages for one of the infants and much more modest percentages for all the others. Looking at them this way, it seemed glaring that Noah could be the father of the second baby while Elijah was the father of the first. Similarly, Ava Martinez and Amelia Campbell could be linked, albeit by more modest margins, to the third and first babies, respectively. Everything was working like clockwork until names like Sophia Roberts, Mason Lee, Aiden Adams, and Emily Parker, who had very high percentages of multiple newborns, were noted.
“You said the children were unrelated?” Tessa said.
“That’s right,” Connor pushed his glasses up his nose.
“Then how come a good portion of the leads are associated with multiple babies with a probability of more than eighty percent? I mean, look at Benjamin Reed, almost ninety percent for infants two, four and five.”
“That’s why I warned you, the error bars are huge,” Connor dropped his head between his shoulders and turned his palms up. “I’m afraid the samples were not in the best condition, the DNA was partially degraded and the analysis suffered.”
Tessa huffed.
“That’s why we found so many matches,” the analyst continued. “And if I had changed the cut-off from forty to thirty percent, they would have doubled… I would tell you not to put too much faith in the numbers in this case.”
“Then do something good,” Sapati grunted. “Eliminate those useless percentages.”
“Well, let’s not exaggerate, I wouldn’t say those are useless…”
“Those would only end up creating a mental bias for us as to who might be whose parents,” the big man interrupted. “Instead, check the assignments and put them in the table, I don’t want to spend hours waiting for them at the door.”
“That’s fine, just don’t take it out on me,” Connor laughed as he started typing on the keyboard. “This will only take a moment.”
The command lines followed one another as the analyst worked, and after a few minutes he sent them the correct table.
“You said the children were unrelated?” Tessa said.
“That’s right,” Connor pushed his glasses up his nose.
“Then how come a good portion of the leads are associated with multiple babies with a probability of more than eighty percent? I mean, look at Benjamin Reed, almost ninety percent for infants two, four and five.”
“That’s why I warned you, the error bars are huge,” Connor dropped his head between his shoulders and turned his palms up. “I’m afraid the samples were not in the best condition, the DNA was partially degraded and the analysis suffered.”
Tessa huffed.
“That’s why we found so many matches,” the analyst continued. “And if I had changed the cut-off from forty to thirty percent, they would have doubled… I would tell you not to put too much faith in the numbers in this case.”
“Then do something good,” Sapati grunted. “Eliminate those useless percentages.”
“Well, let’s not exaggerate, I wouldn’t say those are useless…”
“Those would only end up creating a mental bias for us as to who might be whose parents,” the big man interrupted. “Instead, check the assignments and put them in the table, I don’t want to spend hours waiting for them at the door.”
“That’s fine, just don’t take it out on me,” Connor laughed as he started typing on the keyboard. “This will only take a moment.”
The command lines followed one another as the analyst worked, and after a few minutes he sent them the correct table.
Name - Assignment - Ring - Cabin
Emma Johnson - Systems maintenance - 8 - 365
Ethan Thomson - Environmental control - 8 - 374
Olivia Davis - Surveillance - 8 - 380
Noah Wilson - Hull maintenance - 8 - 386
Sophia Roberts - Life support - 8 - 393
Liam Anderson - Storage - 8 - 396
Ava Martinez - Greenhouse maintenance - 8 - 398
Mason Lee - Environmental control - 9 - 405
Isabella Scott - Life support - 9 - 409
Lucas Wright - Storage - 9 - 411
Mia Phillips - Surveillance - 9 - 422
Aiden Adams - Systems maintenance - 9 - 432
Harper Riguez - Hull maintenance - 9 - 437
Elijah Hernan - Environmental control - 9 - 448
Charlotte Bailey - Surveillance - 10 - 452
Logan Foster - Greenhouse maintenance - 10 - 459
Amelia Campbell - Storage - 10 - 471
Benjamin Reed - Life support - 10 - 476
Abigail Turner - Surveillance - 10 - 482
James Morgan - Hull maintenance - 10 - 483
Evelyn Collins - Systems maintenance - 10 - 487
Daniel Cooper - Environmental control - 10 - 494
Emily Parker - Storage - 10 - 495
Samuel Mitchell - Life support - 10 - 498
Emma Johnson - Systems maintenance - 8 - 365
Ethan Thomson - Environmental control - 8 - 374
Olivia Davis - Surveillance - 8 - 380
Noah Wilson - Hull maintenance - 8 - 386
Sophia Roberts - Life support - 8 - 393
Liam Anderson - Storage - 8 - 396
Ava Martinez - Greenhouse maintenance - 8 - 398
Mason Lee - Environmental control - 9 - 405
Isabella Scott - Life support - 9 - 409
Lucas Wright - Storage - 9 - 411
Mia Phillips - Surveillance - 9 - 422
Aiden Adams - Systems maintenance - 9 - 432
Harper Riguez - Hull maintenance - 9 - 437
Elijah Hernan - Environmental control - 9 - 448
Charlotte Bailey - Surveillance - 10 - 452
Logan Foster - Greenhouse maintenance - 10 - 459
Amelia Campbell - Storage - 10 - 471
Benjamin Reed - Life support - 10 - 476
Abigail Turner - Surveillance - 10 - 482
James Morgan - Hull maintenance - 10 - 483
Evelyn Collins - Systems maintenance - 10 - 487
Daniel Cooper - Environmental control - 10 - 494
Emily Parker - Storage - 10 - 495
Samuel Mitchell - Life support - 10 - 498
“Great!” said Tessa as she hugged her incubating brother.
“Keep me updated.” Connor said.
“Should be a matter of days.”
They left the recycling department, retraced their steps, and after reaching Alpha Deck, walked to the rear of the ship.
“It won’t be easy questioning them,” Tessa sighed as she scrolled through the table on her PDA.
“It’s never easy to deal with the people of the last rings,” Sapati said. “And I’m not surprised that they’re the ones who get involved; it’s at the end of the ship that the ban on procreation is most often broken.”
“They’re less law-abiding,” Tessa agreed. “But I don’t think they are to blame; many aren’t thinking straight because of the state they’re in.”
“You’re right,” the big man scratched his head. “Sometimes I forget how lucky Teuila and I are to be descended so closely from an incubated embryo.”
“That’s why Father Radislav preaches more mixing of the rings. Your mother has spoken several times on the same subject.”
“The head rings choose to ignore the tail rings, and that is why they will become a problem for everyone,” Sapati said, setting his voice. “I remember some of her speeches as if it were only yesterday that she was lecturing to half the crew. She had such an effect on us that I repeat the same words over and over without even realizing it.”
“I don’t think it’s bad.”
“And without the need to worship a means of transportation.”
“She was right,” Tessa said, ignoring the taunt. “Indifference to a problem can only make it worse. It is not healthy for people to separate on the basis of genome purity.”
“It’s not like it’s such a conscious division.”
Tessa squared him, raising her eyebrows.
“I’m just saying that they are not being deported to the final rings…”
“Of course not, but the effect is the same: they are slowly segregated at the bottom of the ship.”
“But there is no malice in it. It’s just that the healthy part of the crew finds them grotesque and reluctantly puts up with them,” the big man wrinkled his face. “That came out pretty bad, it didn’t sound so cruel in my head…”
“Sometimes it’s hard to deal with them, I agree,” Tessa said. “But don’t you think the separation just makes it worse?”
“Without a doubt. It’s just that I find it hard to come to a peaceful coexistence. Just talking to some of them for more than five minutes makes your brain boil: they lack the most basic social skills, express themselves cryptically, have mood swings, and are generally unaccommodating.”
“Well let’s say that patience is not really in the ‘top ten’ of your qualities…”
“It’s amazing that you were able to come up with ten!” Sapati laughed enthusiastically.
“I’ll cross one out to make room for self-deprecation.”
The big man got serious.
“Which one would you erase?”
“You don’t want to know, trust me.”
Sapati laughed again.
“Anyway,” he continued. “Humans have their own problems, there are so many who play on the razor’s edge. Mental health, I mean. You can’t ask them to bear them as well.”
“I’m not saying you’re not right,” Tessa said. “But we’re all on this ship together, and we’re going to stay on it until we die. It’s worth trying to eliminate an unhealthy division before it becomes a serious problem.”
“Assuming it is not already.”
“According to Father Radislav, there is time.”
“About the priest,” Sapati said. “That guy creeps me out! Him and his cult…”
“I wouldn’t call it a cult,” Tessa said, looking over the tempered glass where the stars were just bright dots. “It sounds so derogatory… they are good people after all.”
“Don’t mistake madness for kindness.”
“I don’t think you can mistake one for the other…”
“They worship the Endeavour as if it were a deity, Tessa,” continued the big man in a huff. “A fucking deity!”
“They need to believe in something…”
“How do you think it is possible to deal with these people every day? Imagine if they held Mass in every—”
“I’ve been dealing with it forever,” Tessa interrupted. “And I seem to have survived.”
“That’s because the priests have been close to you since birth. You and all those born from embryos have gotten used to their nonsense, those of you who have not fallen prey to the same nonsense have at least acclimatized to it and no longer bother you. There is premeditation in this behavior, and that’s what scares me.”
Tessa furrowed her brow and shifted her gaze to the floor. Born without parents, she had never known maternal affection, raised by the ship’s automatons and the caretakers, the first human to approach her as a parent was Father Radislav. He was the one who comforted her when she felt lonely, who answered her questions when they became too many for the counselors. He was also the first person she had confessed her attraction to girls, and he had told her something she had never forgotten: ‘You are a Daughter of the Ship, and if the Endeavour chose you, it means you are perfect just as you are’. She had felt right, safe, free to express who she really was. Growing up, she had moved away from the priest’s view on many things, wisdom and study could not have done otherwise, but she remained with a feeling of affection for the father figure Radislav had represented.
“Sorry…” Sapati said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I went too far.”
Tessa gave him a strained smile and took his hand in hers.
“Let’s get to work, we have a good round of questions to ask.”
The bulkhead of the Alpha Bridge opened and they entered the conjunction room. Tessa took the PDA and opened the list; there were seven residents in the eighth ring, and with no other clue, she decided to start with the first and go in cabin order.
They found Emma Johnson in her cabin, about to take a footbath to remove the scales of dead skin from her lower limbs, a symptom of ichthyosis, of which she had a severe form that made her skin resemble that of a reptile in perpetual molting. She could not remember where she was on the nights before the newborns were found but claimed to move infrequently from the apartment. Ethan Thompson was in the boiler room, behind the door of a panel, working on the electrical circuit that controlled its on and off. He squirted thick mucus from his cystic fibrosis into a handkerchief and was breathing hard. He said he didn’t know or care. Olivia Davis was in her cabin, but was a victim of Huntington’s chorea and could not answer questions coherently; she just stammered and it was not even clear if she understood what they were asking her. Noah Wilson roamed the greenhouses, sweeping the floor, swinging his broom in a slow, rhythmic motion, one step at a time. The whitish complexion, due to sickle cell anemia, made him look like a ghost in the bright light of the greenhouse. He turned toward them in slow motion and, one breath after another, concatenated terse responses to a series of racist insults that Sapati let slide.
They spent several hours walking around the ship, talking to crew members, never finding answers to their questions. Halfway through the list, Tessa decided they had enough for one day, and they ended the tour in the ninth ring, at cabin four hundred and twenty-two, near greenhouse seventeen, near the Gamma Bridge. Tired and demoralized.
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to endure another dose of Father Radislav today,” Tessa said, hoping she didn’t give him the death blow. “He’s celebrating Mass nearby at this hour.”
“He may have been luckier than us,” Sapati sighed. “These are his people, after all.”
They walked through the corridors of the Ninth to the bulkhead of Alpha Bridge, then turned toward the center of the ring and ascended to the third floor, the one the cult considered most sacred because it was closest to the ship’s axis of rotation. Tessa suspected that the priests would have held mass in the central body of the Endeavour, next to the antimatter engines, if only the area were not restricted and under strict control.
As they approached the room used as a chapel, they heard metal on metal banging. About ten of the faithful were kneeling on the floor, their palms and foreheads pressed to the cold floor. Father Radislav was in the same pose, wearing plate gloves and pounding the floor with his fist as he psalmed.
“Keep me updated.” Connor said.
“Should be a matter of days.”
They left the recycling department, retraced their steps, and after reaching Alpha Deck, walked to the rear of the ship.
“It won’t be easy questioning them,” Tessa sighed as she scrolled through the table on her PDA.
“It’s never easy to deal with the people of the last rings,” Sapati said. “And I’m not surprised that they’re the ones who get involved; it’s at the end of the ship that the ban on procreation is most often broken.”
“They’re less law-abiding,” Tessa agreed. “But I don’t think they are to blame; many aren’t thinking straight because of the state they’re in.”
“You’re right,” the big man scratched his head. “Sometimes I forget how lucky Teuila and I are to be descended so closely from an incubated embryo.”
“That’s why Father Radislav preaches more mixing of the rings. Your mother has spoken several times on the same subject.”
“The head rings choose to ignore the tail rings, and that is why they will become a problem for everyone,” Sapati said, setting his voice. “I remember some of her speeches as if it were only yesterday that she was lecturing to half the crew. She had such an effect on us that I repeat the same words over and over without even realizing it.”
“I don’t think it’s bad.”
“And without the need to worship a means of transportation.”
“She was right,” Tessa said, ignoring the taunt. “Indifference to a problem can only make it worse. It is not healthy for people to separate on the basis of genome purity.”
“It’s not like it’s such a conscious division.”
Tessa squared him, raising her eyebrows.
“I’m just saying that they are not being deported to the final rings…”
“Of course not, but the effect is the same: they are slowly segregated at the bottom of the ship.”
“But there is no malice in it. It’s just that the healthy part of the crew finds them grotesque and reluctantly puts up with them,” the big man wrinkled his face. “That came out pretty bad, it didn’t sound so cruel in my head…”
“Sometimes it’s hard to deal with them, I agree,” Tessa said. “But don’t you think the separation just makes it worse?”
“Without a doubt. It’s just that I find it hard to come to a peaceful coexistence. Just talking to some of them for more than five minutes makes your brain boil: they lack the most basic social skills, express themselves cryptically, have mood swings, and are generally unaccommodating.”
“Well let’s say that patience is not really in the ‘top ten’ of your qualities…”
“It’s amazing that you were able to come up with ten!” Sapati laughed enthusiastically.
“I’ll cross one out to make room for self-deprecation.”
The big man got serious.
“Which one would you erase?”
“You don’t want to know, trust me.”
Sapati laughed again.
“Anyway,” he continued. “Humans have their own problems, there are so many who play on the razor’s edge. Mental health, I mean. You can’t ask them to bear them as well.”
“I’m not saying you’re not right,” Tessa said. “But we’re all on this ship together, and we’re going to stay on it until we die. It’s worth trying to eliminate an unhealthy division before it becomes a serious problem.”
“Assuming it is not already.”
“According to Father Radislav, there is time.”
“About the priest,” Sapati said. “That guy creeps me out! Him and his cult…”
“I wouldn’t call it a cult,” Tessa said, looking over the tempered glass where the stars were just bright dots. “It sounds so derogatory… they are good people after all.”
“Don’t mistake madness for kindness.”
“I don’t think you can mistake one for the other…”
“They worship the Endeavour as if it were a deity, Tessa,” continued the big man in a huff. “A fucking deity!”
“They need to believe in something…”
“How do you think it is possible to deal with these people every day? Imagine if they held Mass in every—”
“I’ve been dealing with it forever,” Tessa interrupted. “And I seem to have survived.”
“That’s because the priests have been close to you since birth. You and all those born from embryos have gotten used to their nonsense, those of you who have not fallen prey to the same nonsense have at least acclimatized to it and no longer bother you. There is premeditation in this behavior, and that’s what scares me.”
Tessa furrowed her brow and shifted her gaze to the floor. Born without parents, she had never known maternal affection, raised by the ship’s automatons and the caretakers, the first human to approach her as a parent was Father Radislav. He was the one who comforted her when she felt lonely, who answered her questions when they became too many for the counselors. He was also the first person she had confessed her attraction to girls, and he had told her something she had never forgotten: ‘You are a Daughter of the Ship, and if the Endeavour chose you, it means you are perfect just as you are’. She had felt right, safe, free to express who she really was. Growing up, she had moved away from the priest’s view on many things, wisdom and study could not have done otherwise, but she remained with a feeling of affection for the father figure Radislav had represented.
“Sorry…” Sapati said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I went too far.”
Tessa gave him a strained smile and took his hand in hers.
“Let’s get to work, we have a good round of questions to ask.”
The bulkhead of the Alpha Bridge opened and they entered the conjunction room. Tessa took the PDA and opened the list; there were seven residents in the eighth ring, and with no other clue, she decided to start with the first and go in cabin order.
They found Emma Johnson in her cabin, about to take a footbath to remove the scales of dead skin from her lower limbs, a symptom of ichthyosis, of which she had a severe form that made her skin resemble that of a reptile in perpetual molting. She could not remember where she was on the nights before the newborns were found but claimed to move infrequently from the apartment. Ethan Thompson was in the boiler room, behind the door of a panel, working on the electrical circuit that controlled its on and off. He squirted thick mucus from his cystic fibrosis into a handkerchief and was breathing hard. He said he didn’t know or care. Olivia Davis was in her cabin, but was a victim of Huntington’s chorea and could not answer questions coherently; she just stammered and it was not even clear if she understood what they were asking her. Noah Wilson roamed the greenhouses, sweeping the floor, swinging his broom in a slow, rhythmic motion, one step at a time. The whitish complexion, due to sickle cell anemia, made him look like a ghost in the bright light of the greenhouse. He turned toward them in slow motion and, one breath after another, concatenated terse responses to a series of racist insults that Sapati let slide.
They spent several hours walking around the ship, talking to crew members, never finding answers to their questions. Halfway through the list, Tessa decided they had enough for one day, and they ended the tour in the ninth ring, at cabin four hundred and twenty-two, near greenhouse seventeen, near the Gamma Bridge. Tired and demoralized.
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to endure another dose of Father Radislav today,” Tessa said, hoping she didn’t give him the death blow. “He’s celebrating Mass nearby at this hour.”
“He may have been luckier than us,” Sapati sighed. “These are his people, after all.”
They walked through the corridors of the Ninth to the bulkhead of Alpha Bridge, then turned toward the center of the ring and ascended to the third floor, the one the cult considered most sacred because it was closest to the ship’s axis of rotation. Tessa suspected that the priests would have held mass in the central body of the Endeavour, next to the antimatter engines, if only the area were not restricted and under strict control.
As they approached the room used as a chapel, they heard metal on metal banging. About ten of the faithful were kneeling on the floor, their palms and foreheads pressed to the cold floor. Father Radislav was in the same pose, wearing plate gloves and pounding the floor with his fist as he psalmed.
CLANG!
Vessel of steel that sail through space,
hallowed be thy name.
CLANG!
Thou who guide us in our darkest moments,
thy will be done.
CLANG!
Thou who gave us life,
nourish our unhealthy bodies today,
as in the past so in the future.
CLANG!
Thou who guard our genomes,
analyze our code
and free us from disease.
CLANG!
Thine is the Kingdom,
the power and the glory,
forever and ever.
Amen.
CLANG!
Vessel of steel that sail through space,
hallowed be thy name.
CLANG!
Thou who guide us in our darkest moments,
thy will be done.
CLANG!
Thou who gave us life,
nourish our unhealthy bodies today,
as in the past so in the future.
CLANG!
Thou who guard our genomes,
analyze our code
and free us from disease.
CLANG!
Thine is the Kingdom,
the power and the glory,
forever and ever.
Amen.
CLANG!
The worshippers lifted their foreheads from the ground and began to sway from side to side, intoning a low, guttural note that resembled the sound of the engines rattling the hull.
“Let the Rumble permeate you,” Father Radislav said. “Do you feel it? It reaches you from the floor, caressing your limbs. Let it in. Take a deep breath and welcome it, let it spread throughout your body. Tune in to it.”
The priest joined the chorus and they harmonized with his note.
Sapati gave her a sideways glance.
Tessa shrugged, some church customs were… peculiar.
The guttural note became piercing as the worshippers tried to match the roar of the ship, adding high harmonics until some of them began to howl like wolves. They had their eyes closed, but somehow their chaotic swaying became a synchronized motion, like a team of dancers performing a choreography. At one point, Father Radislav stopped chanting and opened his eyes.
“You are one with the Ship.”
The worshippers fell silent and raised their eyelids.
“We are one with the Ship,” they said in unison.
“May the Rumble be with you,” the priest said, joining hands and bowing his head.
“And with your genome.”
They stood up and walked out of the chapel in single file, not giving them a glance. Father Radislav, on the other hand, kept his eyes on them as the procession left the room, seeming not to blink until they were inside. The chapel was bare, the only elements besides the floor and walls being a pile of metal plates in one corner and a pile of bolts in another.
“The Rumble be with you, Daughter of the Ship,” he said nodding to her, then sketched a smile in Sapati’s direction. “It is good to see you at Mass.”
“Hello Father,” Tessa said. “I didn’t come for Mass, but to ask you if you’ve asked the questions you said you would.”
“Any luck with the investigation?”
“I would say no luck with the investigation,” she approached the priest as Sapati leaned against the wall, his back to the Eye of Sauron. “Hopefully they will be more inclined to talk to one of their spiritual guides.”
“Isn’t it amazing?”, Radislav approached the window. “It’s as if the universe itself is keeping an eye on us, like a loving father…”
He looked into their eyes.
“…or as if the universe itself had opened its eye to observe the most interesting of all phenomena: the eternal flight of a god and the followers it carries within.”
“It’s a nebula that looks like an eye,” Sapati said with a hint of harshness in his voice. “Not the other way around.”
“You always took things too literally,” the priest said.
Sapati furrowed his brow and detached his back from the wall. Tessa feared for a moment that he would pounce on the emaciated old man and beat him to a pulp, but the big man just glared.
“Get to the point, Father.”
“The point is, just like the Eye of God, I am here to watch my flock, to see them grow and prosper,” he turned away from the window and went to close the door. “I am here to guide them, not to control them.”
“In other words,” Sapati said. “You haven’t had any luck either.”
“That’s another way of saying it, yes,” Radislav said as he walked to the center of the chapel. “Have a seat.”
Tessa and Sapati looked around.
“On the floor,” Radislav urged them as he sat down. “In contact with the hull!”
Tessa shrugged and sat cross-legged, Sapati mimicked her with a grunt.
The steel was cold, flat, and hard.
“Do you know why I built the chapel here? We are on the third floor, closest to the heart of the Endeavour, and directly above us is one of the three decks that connect the Ninth to the central structure of the ship, right near the aft antimatter engine.”
Tessa and Sapati looked at each other.
“It means that this chamber is one of the places on the ship where the vibrations from the engines propagate most strongly; it is the perfect place for prayer,” the priest continued, then closed his eyes. “Listen to it, the Rumble, the living pulse of the Endeavour. It reaches this room which serves as the epicenter for its propagation to the rest of the ring. Listen to it. So faint, yet constant and soothing.”
“We didn’t come for a commercial,” Sapati said. “Nor to hear your nonsense.”
“Blessed are those who vibrate in sync with the Ship,” Radislav said, addressing him with a tugged smile that revealed blackened teeth. “For some, however, there is no hope.”
“We’re all on the same side,” Tessa said. “Leave the theological discussions for another time.”
“What I was trying to get you to understand,” the priest said. “Is that none of the believers would ever lie, nor would they omit the truth or conceal that of others in case they knew about it.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because lying to me, especially in this place, would be like lying to the Ship.”
“You are a sect, all right,” Sapati said. “I already knew that.”
“We are transparent,” Radislav corrected him. “We are honest with our brothers and sisters because our actions are guided by the Ship and not by selfish impulses as is the case with others.”
“Are you saying that no one has been able to tell you anything?” asked Tessa.
“And?” pressed Radislav.
Tessa frowned.
“And that the people involved are not churchgoers.”
“That’s right. Now get up and go, the Endeavour’s Rumble be with you.”
“And with your genome,” Tessa said, surprising herself as she uttered the ritual words.
They left the chapel and walked back across the decks towards the ship’s head, returning to the third ring where they had their quarters.
“Do you believe him?” Sapati asked.
“I think he’s sincere,” Tessa said. “That doesn’t mean he’s right.”
“Let the Rumble permeate you,” Father Radislav said. “Do you feel it? It reaches you from the floor, caressing your limbs. Let it in. Take a deep breath and welcome it, let it spread throughout your body. Tune in to it.”
The priest joined the chorus and they harmonized with his note.
Sapati gave her a sideways glance.
Tessa shrugged, some church customs were… peculiar.
The guttural note became piercing as the worshippers tried to match the roar of the ship, adding high harmonics until some of them began to howl like wolves. They had their eyes closed, but somehow their chaotic swaying became a synchronized motion, like a team of dancers performing a choreography. At one point, Father Radislav stopped chanting and opened his eyes.
“You are one with the Ship.”
The worshippers fell silent and raised their eyelids.
“We are one with the Ship,” they said in unison.
“May the Rumble be with you,” the priest said, joining hands and bowing his head.
“And with your genome.”
They stood up and walked out of the chapel in single file, not giving them a glance. Father Radislav, on the other hand, kept his eyes on them as the procession left the room, seeming not to blink until they were inside. The chapel was bare, the only elements besides the floor and walls being a pile of metal plates in one corner and a pile of bolts in another.
“The Rumble be with you, Daughter of the Ship,” he said nodding to her, then sketched a smile in Sapati’s direction. “It is good to see you at Mass.”
“Hello Father,” Tessa said. “I didn’t come for Mass, but to ask you if you’ve asked the questions you said you would.”
“Any luck with the investigation?”
“I would say no luck with the investigation,” she approached the priest as Sapati leaned against the wall, his back to the Eye of Sauron. “Hopefully they will be more inclined to talk to one of their spiritual guides.”
“Isn’t it amazing?”, Radislav approached the window. “It’s as if the universe itself is keeping an eye on us, like a loving father…”
He looked into their eyes.
“…or as if the universe itself had opened its eye to observe the most interesting of all phenomena: the eternal flight of a god and the followers it carries within.”
“It’s a nebula that looks like an eye,” Sapati said with a hint of harshness in his voice. “Not the other way around.”
“You always took things too literally,” the priest said.
Sapati furrowed his brow and detached his back from the wall. Tessa feared for a moment that he would pounce on the emaciated old man and beat him to a pulp, but the big man just glared.
“Get to the point, Father.”
“The point is, just like the Eye of God, I am here to watch my flock, to see them grow and prosper,” he turned away from the window and went to close the door. “I am here to guide them, not to control them.”
“In other words,” Sapati said. “You haven’t had any luck either.”
“That’s another way of saying it, yes,” Radislav said as he walked to the center of the chapel. “Have a seat.”
Tessa and Sapati looked around.
“On the floor,” Radislav urged them as he sat down. “In contact with the hull!”
Tessa shrugged and sat cross-legged, Sapati mimicked her with a grunt.
The steel was cold, flat, and hard.
“Do you know why I built the chapel here? We are on the third floor, closest to the heart of the Endeavour, and directly above us is one of the three decks that connect the Ninth to the central structure of the ship, right near the aft antimatter engine.”
Tessa and Sapati looked at each other.
“It means that this chamber is one of the places on the ship where the vibrations from the engines propagate most strongly; it is the perfect place for prayer,” the priest continued, then closed his eyes. “Listen to it, the Rumble, the living pulse of the Endeavour. It reaches this room which serves as the epicenter for its propagation to the rest of the ring. Listen to it. So faint, yet constant and soothing.”
“We didn’t come for a commercial,” Sapati said. “Nor to hear your nonsense.”
“Blessed are those who vibrate in sync with the Ship,” Radislav said, addressing him with a tugged smile that revealed blackened teeth. “For some, however, there is no hope.”
“We’re all on the same side,” Tessa said. “Leave the theological discussions for another time.”
“What I was trying to get you to understand,” the priest said. “Is that none of the believers would ever lie, nor would they omit the truth or conceal that of others in case they knew about it.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because lying to me, especially in this place, would be like lying to the Ship.”
“You are a sect, all right,” Sapati said. “I already knew that.”
“We are transparent,” Radislav corrected him. “We are honest with our brothers and sisters because our actions are guided by the Ship and not by selfish impulses as is the case with others.”
“Are you saying that no one has been able to tell you anything?” asked Tessa.
“And?” pressed Radislav.
Tessa frowned.
“And that the people involved are not churchgoers.”
“That’s right. Now get up and go, the Endeavour’s Rumble be with you.”
“And with your genome,” Tessa said, surprising herself as she uttered the ritual words.
They left the chapel and walked back across the decks towards the ship’s head, returning to the third ring where they had their quarters.
“Do you believe him?” Sapati asked.
“I think he’s sincere,” Tessa said. “That doesn’t mean he’s right.”
* * *
One of the main reasons I never joined the Church, besides the general absurdity of the worship, was to see them all praying together. Father Radislav took me to Mass a few times when I was little, to introduce me to the other incubates who had joined the church and, I later realized, to show me off to the faithful as a trophy, as if I were a living relic of their metal god. It always had a certain effect on me to see them perform their rituals. Seeing them sway in synchro, howl in chorus and press their foreheads to the floor to get in tune with the vibration of the engines. I felt a sense of anxiety and uneasiness that I could not identify.
Then, one night, while watching a movie with Sapati and Teuila, it became clear to me and I focused on the problem: they reminded me of the Kali worshippers in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.
If anyone ever reads this diary: the data on this movie is deteriorating, you can see some dust throughout the duration, and some frames have been corrupted since long before I was born. Some scenes are incomplete, I asked everyone on the ship, but I couldn’t find out if they ate the monkey brain or not. Honestly, I hope not… in any case, I hope the movie arrived on Elpis intact, it is a worthy work that deserves to be seen and is necessary to understand the parallels. I will not be offended if, after reading these words, you feel the need to close the diary and watch the movie before going back to poking your nose into my business. Perhaps I will destroy it (the diary, not the movie) before I die, thus removing your temptation…
What makes me uncomfortable is the obnubilation of their minds. I abhor the very idea of surrendering control of my actions to the will of someone else, of something else. It seems to me an easy way to remove any weight from one’s own decisions, to evade responsibility. A way to commit the worst crimes and at the same time feel that one’s conscience is clear, cleared by a non-existent superior being.
Despite my concerns about the Church, Father Radislav’s words have an irrefutable logic: the faithful would never procreate outside the Match Mate system. They regard the algorithm as an emanation of the sacredness of the vessel and the right to procreate as a divine gift. They would not dare commit such a sacrilege against the Endeavour. Whoever conceived those babies could not be a member of the Church. This reasoning, however, does not apply to whoever executed them.
Then, one night, while watching a movie with Sapati and Teuila, it became clear to me and I focused on the problem: they reminded me of the Kali worshippers in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.
If anyone ever reads this diary: the data on this movie is deteriorating, you can see some dust throughout the duration, and some frames have been corrupted since long before I was born. Some scenes are incomplete, I asked everyone on the ship, but I couldn’t find out if they ate the monkey brain or not. Honestly, I hope not… in any case, I hope the movie arrived on Elpis intact, it is a worthy work that deserves to be seen and is necessary to understand the parallels. I will not be offended if, after reading these words, you feel the need to close the diary and watch the movie before going back to poking your nose into my business. Perhaps I will destroy it (the diary, not the movie) before I die, thus removing your temptation…
What makes me uncomfortable is the obnubilation of their minds. I abhor the very idea of surrendering control of my actions to the will of someone else, of something else. It seems to me an easy way to remove any weight from one’s own decisions, to evade responsibility. A way to commit the worst crimes and at the same time feel that one’s conscience is clear, cleared by a non-existent superior being.
Despite my concerns about the Church, Father Radislav’s words have an irrefutable logic: the faithful would never procreate outside the Match Mate system. They regard the algorithm as an emanation of the sacredness of the vessel and the right to procreate as a divine gift. They would not dare commit such a sacrilege against the Endeavour. Whoever conceived those babies could not be a member of the Church. This reasoning, however, does not apply to whoever executed them.
