“Francesca, it’s me. What’s going on?” Saliva was dripping from the corner of her mouth. She pressed her hands against her belly and moaned.
“Marchenko, she has the same symptoms, just like Jiaying and Amy.”
“This absolutely cannot be a coincidence. The only possible explanation is poisoning, perhaps something in the water or the food?”
“Watson, please analyze drinking water for poisonous substances,” Martin instructed. “What can we do, Marchenko?”
“As long as we do not know what it is, only a primary poison removal is going to help.”
“Meaning what?”
“Get it out. They have to vomit as much as they can, and if this does not happen by itself, we have to induce it.”
“Amy is already vomiting.”
“And Francesca?”
“She is lying on the bed, moaning.”
“You have to take her to the WHC right away—no, it does not matter where. Whatever is in her must get out as quickly as possible. You can clean up later.”
“Francesca, please roll over.” Martin tried to roll her toward the edge of the bed. “Come on, you have to throw up, just lean over the side of the bed. If you keep lying on your back, the stuff could get into your lungs.” He noticed her trying to help him as much as she could. He had barely managed to get her head over the edge of the bed when she disgorged, straight at his feet.
“Sorry,” she managed to say.
“Doesn’t matter, that can be cleaned up. Just get it all out.”
Gradually, the entire contents of her stomach landed on the floor.
“How is Jiaying doing?” asked Martin.
“She just stumbled to the bathroom to throw up again,” Marchenko replied.
So, his girlfriend could still stand upright, like Amy. Francesca definitely was the one in the worst shape.
“Valentina is now with Amy,” Marchenko said.
“Do we have emetics on board? Doesn’t copper sulfate induce vomiting?”
“That is no longer used,” the former ship’s doctor replied. “But we do have syrup of ipecac in the medicine cabinet. First we have to find out what this is. If it is something caustic, ipecac would be contraindicated. But, since all three have already vomited, maybe we don’t need to use it.”
“Watson, do you have any results yet?”
“Minute traces of various tetracyclic triterpenes. In this concentration they are not poisonous, but in any case they should not be there.”
“That doesn’t mean anything to me.” Martin was baffled.
Marchenko continued asking. “Could these be residues of warfare agents—something from chemical warfare, particularly from the former Eastern Bloc?”
Does he suspect Valentina? wondered Martin.
“No, nothing we know of. Due to the minute traces I unfortunately cannot determine the exact class of substances. It seems to be more of a mixture than a pure substance, as indicated by the elemental composition.”
“Could you give some examples for possible substances?” asked Marchenko.
“Some are chemical products,” Watson lectured, “like dammarane, which is used as a binding agent in paints. Cycloartanes function similar to the hormone estrogen, but many also occur naturally, like tirucallanes in black tea, or cucurbitacins in plants of the gourd family.”
“Plants of the gourd family? Like cucumbers or zucchini, for instance?” Martin had an idea.
“Yes, those vegetables sometimes contain cucurbitacins,” Watson said. “In domesticated varieties, it has been bred out, but sometimes it happens that seeds are fertilized by decorative gourds, for example, and then there are cucurbitacins in the fruits of the plants.”
“Yesterday we had a zucchini salad,” Martin said. “I don’t like zucchini, so I didn’t eat any of it.”
“It would have tasted very bitter.”
“Jiaying did mention that the zucchini was unusually bitter, but she thought that was normal, because there are bitter gourds that are very popular in China. We wondered whether we should discard the vegetables, but fresh food is so rare we didn’t want to waste it.”
“If it is a cucurbitacin poisoning, we cannot do much except to get the poison out of their systems as quickly as possible, so a round of syrup of ipecac is best for everyone who ate the zucchini, to make certain it’s all out. I hope we will not have to pump their stomachs,” Marchenko said. “Can you get the stuff, Martin?”
“Francesca, how are you doing? I will have to leave you alone for a moment,” Martin said.
Francesca nodded and vomited again. On the way to the command module he could not help but check in on Jiaying. She was back in bed.
“Is it still bad?” he asked.
“The pain is a little bit less.”
“I had to get the others...”
“It is okay. Marchenko has been helping me with soothing words. He also told me it was probably the zucchini.”
Martin nodded, waved at her, and started toward the command module. Perhaps he could find leftover zucchinis so that they could examine them more closely. He searched where Valentina had prepared the meal, but could not find anything. She had cleaned up neatly and put all the leftovers in the recycling module. That way the cucurbitacin probably got into the drinking water. Everything containing moisture was separated from solids in there, so not one milliliter of valuable water would be lost.
Martin searched in the medicine cabinet. He found painkillers and anti-fever medicine in front. What was this emetic called again? The name started with an ‘I,’ he thought as he looked at one bottle after the other, having no idea what they were used for. There it is, he remembered the name now: ‘ipecac.’ He took the bottle and carried it to the habitat ring.
“Who should get some, Marchenko?”
“Just a moment—this medicine has its drawbacks. I do not like to give it, so if we could do without it... On the other hand, I consider it better under these circumstances than pumping out stomachs. Let me think about it, because the medicine would take 20 minutes to take effect anyway.”
Martin put the little bottle down and went to Jiaying’s cabin. She lay on her bed, looking pale, but she managed to smile again.
“I think I got rid of everything,” she said. “Francesca took a bigger helping, if I remember correctly. She really likes zucchini, just because of the Italian name, she said.”
Martin recalled that scene during their meal. He had preferred instant soup. Fresh food was alright, but cucumbers, lettuce, and a bit of garden cress were enough to satisfy him.
“Is Valentina okay?” his girlfriend asked. He nodded. Was she trying to hint at something? It was rather strange that all of the women got food poisoning—except for Valentina. Maybe she had been unaware Martin disliked zucchini when she planned this. How could she have known, anyway?
September 24, 2049, ILSE
“It is so obvious who was responsible for this,” Francesca said, all the while staring right at Valentina. Martin was not surprised that Francesca was voicing her distrust so openly. The pilot had been the one who had suffered the most from the poisoning. She might look strong, but Martin had seen her on the exercise bike this morning. She had pedaled weakly, like someone who was just starting to recover from a serious illness.
“Let’s stick to the facts.” Amy stood up and tried to calm the flaring tempers. She no longer showed any signs of the stomach issues from the day before yesterday.
“The fact is that the leftover pieces of zucchini were carefully disposed of in the recycler,” Francesca interjected.
“As a cook should do,” Valentina replied. “I just happen to be neat. You cannot accuse me for being neat. Should we have leftovers lying around from now on, in case we need a toxicological analysis?”
“It might be advisable.”
“Francesca, the residue in our stomachs clearly indicated a cucurbitacin poisoning,” Amy said. “The traces of tetracyclic triterpenes that Watson found in the water al
so fit this theory.”
“I don’t deny it. But someone could have secretly mixed the poison with our food.”
Jiaying gave Francesca an exasperated look. Martin knew the expression. “You really think that someone who deliberately wanted to poison us would use a zucchini dish and then add too little poison to the food? Marchenko thinks at least twice the dosage would have been needed to kill us. That is just not logical.”
“No, but it is clever, because it diverts any suspicion from her. Don’t you see? It sounds illogical, but it contains a hidden logic.”
“Francesca, I think you have become obsessed with this.” Was there a hint of anger in Amy’s voice? If so, it was new to Martin. “Now and then there are zucchini poisonings on Earth. It’s not that uncommon. We don’t know where the seeds on board came from. It is possible their genetic material had been affected by cosmic radiation by now. With other plants this might not be a problem, but it might have had a negative effect on the zucchini. We simply should not have eaten the bitter fruit. After all, we all noticed the taste.”
“Valentina, did you notice they tasted so bitter?” Francesca gave her fellow astronaut an accusing look. “And then you simply let us eat them, while refraining from it yourself? That wouldn’t be murder, but negligent homicide.”
“I simply do not like zucchini, just like Martin,” Valentina said. “That is why I did not taste them.”
“You make dinner without tasting anything? You can’t tell me that.”
“That is what I did. Why should I taste something I knew I would not like?” she asked, and Martin nodded in agreement. He could have uttered that very sentence. Other people had a hard time understanding him, but Valentina seemed to be so much like himself. He could not even imagine her conspiring against the rest of the crew. ‘The Zucchini Conspiracy.’ What an absurd-sounding title. Martin could not help but smile.
“I know what I know,” Francesca said. “You will see I was right once this woman drops her mask.” She pointed dramatically at Valentina. “For me, this conversation is over, because it won’t lead anywhere,” Then she left the command module.
“Valentina, I am sorry,” Amy said sincerely. “This is not the type of discussion I prefer. Aside from Francesca, we are not accusing you. Do you understand?”
Valentina nodded, then took a few deep breaths in an attempt to regain her composure. She was in her mid-twenties, and Martin imagined how he would have felt if some team member had confronted him with a substantial accusation when he was that age. She must have enormous self-confidence if she managed to remain so calm. Or maybe later she would cry secretly in her cabin. That is what he might have done.
“Is there at least something we can learn from this incident? Doc, do you have any ideas?” Amy obviously did not want to have this short meeting end in such an unsatisfactory manner.
“I can assure you that no other plants on board have the same potential risk as the zucchini,” Watson said. “But even zucchini itself is basically harmless. We just have to avoid eating bitter fruit—I mean, you have to avoid it,” the AI said, correcting himself.
Amy nodded. “Marchenko, you might want to teach us some medical emergency procedures in the near future. What would have happened if Martin actually would have had to pump our stomachs? It would be reassuring to know that each crew member would not be performing such a procedure for the very first time.”
“Practicing it would not exactly be easy,” Marchenko said.
“That might be true, but you could at least test the crew on their theoretical knowledge and show them the necessary instruments. Then at least they would know what to expect.”
“That sounds reasonable. In a few months I can take on this job again, as your ship’s doctor.”
“I am sure,” Amy said, but Martin sensed her level of confidence was lower than usual.
Age of Ascent, 29
There was:
Doubt.
The ones who return.
The ones who leave.
The ones who stay.
Certainty.
There is:
Methods.
Algorithms.
Procedures.
The search for the best parameters.
There will be:
The beauty of geometry.
Perfect circles.
The great darkness, with lightning flashing.
Living and dying and being born.
October 15, 2049, ILSE
“Doc, how are you doing now?”
“I am glad you asked, Martin. You do not often address me.”
“Really?”
“During the last thirty-one point four days you addressed me 17 times as Doc and 10 times as Watson. That makes 27 times, the lowest value in the entire crew.”
“I am sorry to hear that. Why are you referring to thirty-one point four days?”
“I love pi. Pi is the most beautiful number in the world. Pi is everywhere.”
“Not everywhere.”
“Correct, but that is the reason I try to use pi in as many ways as possible.”
“That is not so appropriate when referring to a period of time.”
“Why?”
“It is surprising.”
“Then it is good. I have learned that humans place a great value on being surprised. When you get a birthday present, it is not about the value of the present, but about the degree of surprise.”
“Not for all humans.”
“You are perhaps correct. The degree of difference between humans is markedly high.”
“But you are also different from other AIs.”
“Perhaps,” Watson said, “I even hope so, but the other Watsons on the market are very similar to each other. Much more similar than you humans are to each other.”
“Do you think you’ve gone on since we reactivated you?”
“Gone on? I am still here.”
“I mean, have you developed further.”
“I have, definitely. The only problem is that I cannot rationally account for it. I do not remember what I was like several months ago. I cannot put myself into that place and forget everything I know. What I have learned since then cannot be separated from the rest of my identity.”
“Nobody can do that,” Martin said.
“Then it might be that we only believe we developed, but in reality we learned nothing new.”
“Sometimes I also believe that.”
November 5, 2049, ILSE
Marchenko roamed through space. For the past few weeks he had used his daily off-duty times to rest. While he needed no sleep, he found that solitude helped him. Being constantly together with the same crew was getting on his nerves, and several times he caught himself giving a wrong answer out of sheer spite or anger. His first trip to the stars therefore was also a kind of escape: After a fight with Francesca, he signed off from all internal sensors.
Amy once asked him what exactly he was doing during his off duty time, and Marchenko called it meditation. When his consciousness was separated from all internal sensors, it felt as if he was moving through space all alone. The outward-facing instruments of the ship fed him with all available data, but it took him a while to create a picture from them. What did gamma rays or X-rays look like? Which image did he find for the magnetic fields measured by the magnetometer, or for the high-energy particles of cosmic radiation that were constantly pelting the spaceship?
His creativity and imagination were still human. That might be due to the structure of his consciousness having been shaped during the many years of his human existence. Would that change at some point? Or, maybe it had already changed, and he had not noticed because it felt completely normal to him?
Now Marchenko was lying on his back, his arms spread, looking up. It reminded him of being a boy, when long ago he used to gaze into the endless Russian sky while swimming in the local reservoir during the summer. The other children used to splash water at each other near the shore, or dunk each other, bu
t he simply swam out and drifted. The vacuum encompassing him now was warm, as the cosmic background radiation had heated it to a pleasant 2.7 degrees Kelvin. A light breeze blew from the direction of the sun. The sunspot activity showed Earth would soon experience a solar storm, but out here only a gentle summer wind would arrive.
He was located inside a reef of a tiny atoll in the ocean. Far out he felt the surf. Where the solar wind hit the interstellar medium and was slowed down by it, at the so-called termination shock, the sea was much rougher than here. The area he was located in was mostly empty and barren. There were no fish that could threaten him, hardly any plankton that could cause microscopic cracks in the exterior hull of ILSE. He felt a certain pull exerted by the enormous island in his vicinity. It was still beyond the horizon, but its mass attraction gradually started to reach for him, while its magnetic field repelled him. He was not aiming directly for the island, since it was also gliding through the world ocean. They would meet in a few weeks. He would not land on it—which he somewhat regretted—for he knew it only reluctantly let go of its guests. Therefore he would limit himself to visiting one of its companions and from there, marvel at its majestic beauty.
Marchenko slowly turned his head to the side. The water was splashing, but at the same time he had to be careful. He did not just control the exterior sensors of ILSE, but also the thrusters of the Reaction Control System, or RCS. If he consciously turned around, the spaceship would rotate around its central axis. This would not pose a real problem right now, since ILSE was drifting through these quiet waters.
He wanted to take a look at Earth, moving along its course far behind him, and he tried with all his might to feel it. He knew Earth’s gravitational field reached into space indefinitely, and he thought he could sense some of its inviting effects. But to be honest, that was probably only in his imagination—Earth stood no chance against the force of the sun. Also, now the giant Jupiter appeared again from behind the sun. Its entry made all the other terrestrial planets seem tiny.
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