Letters to an Android

by Wendy Rathbone

  Yesterday, a new list of passengers boarded. We get mostly wealthy tourists and rich, corporate businessmen with long-term visions in interplanetary business. Once in awhile we get families with children, those who are moving far enough away to a distant world that the shuttles are out of the question for such a journey. Most shuttles are not equipped with foldspace drives, so starliner transport is the only alternative. Passenger decks are luxurious and expensive when compared to crew quarters. Charging the passengers exorbitant fees offsets the cost of cargo shipping long-distance. But the amenities must also match the price, or people will feel ripped off.

  In my early years of service, I avoided the passengers. My duties were elsewhere. They had their own decks.

  But now…

  For the first time I have met another android.

  It was a shock, actually. An older woman boarded followed by a young, well-dressed man with gold and green hair. At first no one noticed his status. But his handsomeness stood out. Then it became obvious in the way he moved, how he responded to her voice, how she commanded him. He was no husband, son or even lover. He was her servant. He had a very cool gaze. Every move he made was practiced and precise. No mistakes. No sense of individual will.

  I went out of my way to meet him. He did not seem to understand my greeting was for him, and kept stepping away to give room for me to greet his owner.

  I said to him, simply, “Welcome aboard. I’m Liyan.”

  His bored gaze met mine. Or was it hostility? When I put out my hand as a gesture of good will he ignored it. He followed his female owner along the line, ignoring all greetings from any of the other crew.

  The passenger decks are loaded with color. The walls reflect lavender, pink, pale blue. There are glass elevators and gold-railed viewports. Mirrors decorate various bulkheads to give more sparkle and light. In the center rec area is a vast, crystal chandelier. One corner has a burbling fountain decorated with wisps of baby’s breath and green ivy.

  Once a day, those of us in upper ranks are required one walk-through of the luxury deck, in uniform. This is for no other reason than to reassure the visitors, our guests, that they are well in hand. We are in charge, in control. There is nothing to worry about. This is especially necessary when in foldspace. If someone gets spacesick we report it and it’s taken care of by the sickbay team.

  Today I made my trek after my shift. I saw the android again. No one had ever given his name. No one seemed to care. But my own curiosity propelled me. I’ve never met another like you, Cobalt.

  And I still have not. He was nothing like you.

  When I approached him he turned slowly as if to face me but gazed past my shoulder as if I did not exist. I said, “Hello.”

  He did not reply.

  “Do you have a name?” I asked. Silence. “Sir?” I prompted. “Are you all right?”

  “Perfectly,” he finally replied, and his voice came at me with a sharpness and iciness that bordered on rude.

  “We met yesterday,” I reminded him.

  “Yes.”

  “My name is Liyan.”

  “You have a forward manner, Liyan,” he replied, still never meeting my eyes. His eyes were green flecked with silver. He wore a tailored silk suit with a red satin tie.

  “I know someone like you…back home…” I started to say.

  His reply? “I’m not for rent.”

  That startled me. “I never meant to imply that.” But I was embarrassed. His assumptions were quick and sure.

  “My owner is Caxadia. Don’t forget that.”

  “I was introducing myself to you, not her,” I offered. I admit I was starting to feel defensive.

  Coldly, he said, “I do not care. You will stay away from me or I will tell her bad things about you…Commander Liyan… and get you fired.”

  I couldn’t move or speak for a moment. What he said was so threatening, so cruel. Stupidly trying to make amends, I said, “I was simply introducing myself, as I have with all the passengers.”

  “No. You were not.” His voice came out in a sure and final tone.

  “I have a friend like you,” I started to say.

  “He cannot be like me. I have no friends.” Then he turned away, ran his hands through the small waterfall at the edge of the bulkhead and, water dripping from his fingers, headed down the corridor and disappeared.

  Stunned and sad. That describes how he left me. I still never found out his name.

  What was I thinking? That because I know you I know anything at all, in general, about androids? That I might empathize with how he thought or felt? I’m naïve at best, embarrassed to even be telling you this.

  Cobalt, how can I be so smart and so stupid at the same time? He had me shaking inwardly when I arrived at the rec room.

  Lark sensed unease and poured me a beer. We talked until Tiri called him away; he tried to get me to come with him. To spend the night. He does this when he senses I’m upset.

  I came here, to my quarters, to write you instead.

  Your friend,

  Liyan

  *

  Dear Liyan:

  I hope you are not still upset about your meeting with another android.

  I can tell you that the way we are trained when we are ‘born’ and conditioned promotes a self-preservation within that can seal off unwanted emotion. Years of this behavior can lead to psychopathy in a large percentage of my kind. Any violence is bred out of our engineered DNA so we are of no physical danger to others, but an android psychopath will cause unease if that is his goal. And his manipulative threat to lie to his owner (or your captain) about your behavior to get you into trouble is real. Do not go near him again. In that regard, he is definitely a dangerous individual.

  Because he has no empathy, he cannot see any overture of yours as friendly, only a gesture filled with selfish motives on your part. He does not know you as I do. That does not excuse his rudeness. His owner is either unaware of his behavior, or does not care.

  My first owner, Pela, only wanted to show me off as a doll. As a result, I was left in empty rooms alone for hours, days, with no companionship, no interaction, and only allowed to use computers or hand screens with permission. Pela was neglectful but not overly cruel. She’d simply forget about me. I was not allowed any freedoms. Any child might go crazy to never leave their home. I was lucky I did have access, most of the time, to some social media, although forbidden to directly interact with others on the wave.

  When I came to Pel I slowly integrated to the hotel life. It was a gradual process. I learned social skills by trial and error, but also I had some intuition and empathy to back me up. I don’t know why I am so different from the android you just met, but there could be any number of reasons. Perhaps it’s all in the specific childhood memories downloaded into our brains. Or perhaps he is very old (we do not age so you can only guess) and he’s been ill-treated for decades. We can’t know for sure.

  Again, I implore you to stay away from him. Take his threat to destroy your career seriously.

  On another note, I hesitate to ask this, but regarding Lark’s invitation… This is not the first time. I cannot believe you have never once said yes?

  If you don’t want to talk about it, I understand. Tell me if I overstep myself in any personal area of our relationship.

  Where are you headed next?

  Your friend,

  Cobalt

  *

  Dear Cobalt:

  This will be quick. I have a long day of work assignments ahead of me.

  Our next stop: Taraylia and the archangel ruins!

  After foldspace we estimate a four day journey. Give or take a week.

  I plan to see the ruins and spend the night there. I will write to you all about it.

  Thank you for your insight about the nameless android I introduced myself to. There have, so far, been no further encounters. I plan to stay away from him.

  Your question a
bout Lark and Tiri I will have to answer at another date. They have a complicated and sometimes stressful marriage. I will go into this more with you, but not right now.

  I’m sorry to be so abrupt. I’m already late for my shift!

  Your friend,

  Liyan

  *

  Dear Liyan:

  It is interesting to note that the Archangel Ruins, though alien in nature and design, have been given an ancient, religious, humanform connotation.

  Is it because they are so beautiful and large? Because the wings of the eight broken sculptures dwarf the bodies? Archangels were once depicted by human artists to have larger wings. This monument was not created by humans.

  They are beautiful in holos I’ve seen, wrought of aurora marble, so their bodies shine with rainbow iridescence in their decay.

  Do they depict the visage of citizens of a long lost civilization? The literature on this is endless, but all speculation. Who can know? Another mystery for you to witness, and surrounding the monument, endless tourist towns for you and your friends to explore. Will you stay in Cathedral? It’s my favorite of the offerings. I read up on them all.

  Another long day for me. I am about to get some sleep.

  Good journey in foldspace.

  Your friend,

  Cobalt

  *

  Dear Cobalt:

  We dropped off tourists and picked up 20 more.

  I never made it to the archangels. It pains me that I could not see them in person.

  During foldspace, we had a fire in the nav labs. No injuries. It has taken double shift work to make things right. No shore leave for us. Others of the crew were free, but not us. Not Lark or Tiri. Even Sekina stayed on to help, though it’s not her area anymore, because she knows the ropes.

  You may be pleased to know that no new androids boarded with this new group of passengers. I did learn the name of the one who was so rude to me from the passenger manifest. Koral. Not that that means anything to you. But I wanted a name to end the story of my encounter with him. And now I hope never to think of him again.

  I am more exhausted than I can describe.

  My eyes are blurring just writing this.

  The damage has almost been repaired, and lost data retrieved. The fire began in a server system that got too hot. But the failsafe is there to prevent that. Somehow the failsafe itself failed. There was a lot of smoke damage and systems frozen or shut down that had to be repaired. The cosmetic work was left to the janitors who always do a perfect job. Repairs in space, instead of putting into port, are often necessary. The janitors who oversee all that are invaluable. Now you can’t even tell there was a fire.

  We enter foldspace again in two days.

  I’ll wave again before then.

  Your friend,

  Liyan

  *

  Dear Liyan:

  I’m glad there were no injuries in the fire.

  Running all over the galaxy, you may return to the archangels some day.

  For me I have had several days of long hours. I am grateful to return at night to my suite. I find peace in composing three-line poems.

  the dangerous moon glares

  this unfinished life

  awash in thick evening

  endless yellow sky

  unassembled years

  where I wait

  a panicked moon

  rain

  of silverships

  all the tourists

  in a hurry

  all the green days

  Safe journey.

  Your friend,

  Cobalt

  *

  Dear Cobalt:

  Early this morning, before we broke orbit, I had a message to meet the captain in his office.

  I arrived promptly.

  He told me a passenger on the last flight had made a complaint about me. Improper advances.

  Of course it was from the owner of Koral. I’m innocent, but I began to shake. Some commander I am! So rattled by this small event!

  I explained my side of the story.

  The captain said very little and dismissed me without further words. No reprimand, but no words of support. Many people know I have an android friend back ‘home’. I’m sure the captain knows, too. We live in a small environment. There are few secrets. He must think it odd that in this rare case of hosting an android passenger I would somehow be involved in a small controversy regarding him.

  I can’t get the meeting out of my mind. All day my work performance suffered.

  Later, Tiri told me Lark was upset for me. He wanted to go to the captain.

  I went to Lark and told him not to say a thing. I don’t want any further talk of this. Koral is obviously like a manipulative child, cold and perhaps angry. I don’t know. I don’t care. It’s not worth the energy to take it any further. I was not reprimanded. No more action is required.

  I was misunderstood by another human being who happens to be an embittered android. Misunderstandings happen between people all the time for all sorts of reasons. I’ll get over it.

  It feels good to write this all down here, as if I am talking to you, confiding. When I can see it all before me as a whole, it is a ludicrous story that will be quickly forgotten. I feel better now, getting this all down here, and knowing you will completely understand my position and my feelings.

  I am grateful.

  I love your poetry. It is sad and dark this time, but beautiful. And I love it because it is from you. I have not had any time for compositions of my own.

  Maybe soon.

  Your friend,

  Liyan

  *

  16. Favorites

  When Cobalt had not heard from Liyan for long spans, when the routines, the green skies, the long hours and the penthouse suite moonlighting wore him down, he would go through all the correspondences between himself and Liyan and find his favorites. He’d read and reread those waves, those beautiful letters until his mind eased and his heart slowed. He’d relax and bask in the aura of his friend who now fulfilled the rank of commander on a luxury starliner hurtling through space. Watching his friend grow and mature through an enviable career that took him to exotic places most people only dreamed of, became his single pleasure in life. But for a simple design of fate, he’d be there right at his side.

  One of Liyan’s more recent waves became one of his favorites.

  Dear Cobalt:

  In foldspace stars rush into thin lines that approach and veer simultaneously. The ship rocks in a star-net, both moving and static. From the inside it looks as if everything is churning towards us in a terrific storm but we are the ones hurtling through it all. The ship’s drive causes ripples in spacetime. We dive the waves under. Over. Making temporary rips that fold back on themselves.

  Foldspace is full of secrets. In between the ripples exists the holographic soul of the universe. Realities transformed. Blossoms of memory fields more vast than eternity. Our brains usually block this transcendent existence. Our perception is too small, too limited to contain it. However, we may feel a need to speak endlessly about varieties of God, or to sleep for days, or play games to distract from existential or philosophical discomfort. It’s never predictable. We can’t always control the pull of what foldspace will represent and present to us. Sometimes the brain stops blocking it all. A kind of self-preservation failure. You don’t know when it will happen but it does. A space-sickness occurs. Sometimes it’s minor. You sit and stare at a wall or forget to eat. Or you’re compelled to write or paint or scribble equations in theoretical physics. It’s like going manic, being drunk, drugged, inspired, energized. If you go too crazy you end up in sickbay strapped down and fed heavy-duty tranquilizers.

  Mild tranqs are put in our food and drink by captain’s orders right before the drive engages.

  Most of the time it is sufficient.

  It’s part of the job description. We work through it. Everyon
e has good and bad foldspace experiences. Everyone. Even the captain. We all cover for each other, those who can taking the shifts of those who can’t.

  Mostly I handle it well. I’ve been severely spacesick only twice. The other hundreds of times I responded to the meds okay. If I feel at all jittery, I wait until I’m off-shift to do my bulkhead gazing, Or I try to put the whirlpool of images in my head into coherent language – a story, poem, letter to you.

  Foldspace is like a drug. It’s actually incredible. We all look forward to it. Inside the effect we all have a certainty we know everything. To make sense of this ultra-knowledge is another matter altogether. We’ve discussed before that there are some truly genius pieces of art, compositions in music or writing and theories in science that have come from foldspace altered states. But it is rare. Most of the junk is indecipherable. Nonsense. Blather. Like when you’re in a dream and it all makes sense until you wake. And then the surreal aspects surface only to confound and confuse.

  Only one time, so far, was I able to bring back something comprehensive and astounding from this tranquilized altered state. My navigation intuition helped us locate ourselves when we were lost. I met a bearded dragon.

  It’s the only time foldspace succeeded in accelerating my knowledge in a comprehensive way.

  But I wonder if it could be done again.

  What if we prepared not through taking tranquilizers, but through meditation? What if we concentrated on certain areas of thought, specific questions, and treated foldspace like a spiritual journey? What magic would we discover?

  Of course there are cults who do exactly that. They discuss and even publish within their own ranks but remain on the fringes. Why? Public disinterest? Fear? Lack of depth of intelligence in the average human? Are most of us truly incapable of sustained imagining beyond the known? I wonder if there is something built into the brain that blocks us, makes us shut down like some overwhelmed computer system.