by Jerry
“Why not?”
Silence.
“Look,” I say. “The structural corridors connect us. We could meet in the control center.”
“If we were stupid.”
“Why? Why is that? What are you afraid of? Why is 2 afraid?”
“Because 2 is afraid of everybody.”
“Why? Afraid of what?”
“Two is afraid of contamination. Crew died.”
“Of disease?”
“We have no idea. They died. That’s all. And don’t you dare come over here.”
“I won’t. All right. I won’t. But you can talk to me.”
“I see no point.”
“You can at least tell me why.”
“Unit 3 is special. We are a preservation unit. We cannot have outside contact.”
“What are you preserving?”
“Diversity, if you must know. Our genotypes are ancient. We have already suffered losses. We cannot risk more.”
“What losses? What sort of losses?”
A pause.
“I don’t think you need that information.”
“What could I do with it?”
“I don’t want to feed your imagination. Say that you don’t need to know, and I am closing this conversation.”
“At least tell me what’s the matter with 2.”
“Two is crazy. That’s what’s the matter with 2.”
“Do you communicate with 4 and 5?”
“Occasionally.”
“Are they all right over there?”
A pause. “Unknowable.”
It is not what I want to hear.
“Is the ship all right?” I ask. “Are we on course? Is everybody all right?”
Robot says, “The ship is all right. We are on course. Everybody is following instructions.”
“Three? Can you hear Robot? Do you agree?”
“We are all right. We are safe. I am ending this conversation.”
“Wait!”
“Three has broken the connection,” Robot said.
“What is wrong with them? And what is wrong with 2?
A pause. “Two reports systems secure and normal. Three is secure and normal.”
“Are we all right? Is Unit 1 all right?’
“One is all right.”
“So what does 3 mean by ‘losses?’”
“I cannot give classified information.”
“So 3 is classified. Classified genes.”
“I cannot answer.”
“So what is 2? Is 2 different from 1?”
“The composition is much the same.”
“But 3 is special.”
“I cannot say.”
“Damn it, Robot. Let me talk to 4.”
“Processing.”
Lights flickered.
“One?”
“Is this 4?”
“This is 4. Are you 1?”
“Four, this is 1. I’m just wakened. Apparently my predecessor is dead in the middle of the control section and I’m trying to contact the other units. Are you all right, there?”
“Four is fine. Do you have a problem?”
“Is there just one of you in your unit?”
“There is only one Awakened per unit. Article 13…”
“I know about Article 13. What is 2’s problem? Three warned me about 2.”
“Two is crazy. That’s 2’s problem. Don’t trust either 2 or 3.”
“I hope I can trust you.”
“I never said trust me.”
Chilling, that. I feel a shiver, and suddenly don’t hold out hope for 4, either.
“So what’s the matter with 2? Can I ask that?”
“Two’s obsessed with germs. We’re all in separate containment units, but 2’s sure we’re going to spread whatever got the last of the crew.”
“The crew’s separate, too, isn’t it? Or was?”
“There are the passages. But it wasn’t only germs that got the crew. I don’t know it was contagious. Maybe it was genes. Maybe it was suicide. Maybe it was murder. It was all their problems. They weren’t shielded. They didn’t have life support the way we do. It was everything combined. They aged. Not enough kids. Not enough healthy kids. They died. That’s what we know.”
“Didn’t anyone ask?”
“Oh, ask. It won’t help. It won’t bring back the crew.”
“Did anyone go there? Did anybody try?”
“We were asleep. That’s all. Robot woke us after the fact. Robot had locked the controls against them. Robot said none of them could operate the ship.”
“Are we still on course? Are we still even functioning the way we’re supposed to?”
“I don’t know. How could I know? It just runs. You’re in the control center?”
“Yes. I think that’s where I am.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. You should go back to your unit. Your business is there.”
“Watching people sleep? Nothing’s going on.”
“That’s our job. Somebody should watch, that’s all. Being an activist, well, 2 and 3 are activists. Don’t contact them. It won’t help.”
“So we’re it.”
“We’re it.”
“Do you know where we are?”
A laugh. It sounds strange. Disconnected from reality. “In space.”
“But where in space?”
“Is there a where in space?”
“Robot says a hundred thirty-nine years out of Proxima.”
“That’s what Robot says.”
A pause.
“You think,” I ask, “that Robot might not be right?”
“I don’t know. Does it matter?”
“Well, yes, it matters! It bloody matters! What if Robot has a problem?”
“If it did, could we do something? I don’t think I ought to talk with you anyway. What did 2 say?”
“Two broke the connection when I asked about their people. And 3 told me that’s just the way 2 is. What does that mean?”
“I don’t know. I don’t even know you’re not like 2. I’m going to close off now.”
“How is 2 crazy?” I ask.
But the connection is dead.
“God. Robot, what is the matter? How did the crew die?”
“Death usually results from injury to brain or lungs or insufficient supply to the heart. Death can result…”
“I know how things die, Robot! I want to know how the crew died.”
“I have records for the first ninety-eight who ceased. The others did not state a reason. But in nine there was evident damage, three caused by one individual who then ceased.”
Murder. Suicide. Maybe disease. Maybe Robot itself. Two shut itself off from 1, where last crew died. Three shut itself off from 2. Four doesn’t care.
“I want to talk to 5, Robot.”
“I am calling 5.” Pause. “Five is answering.”
“This is 5,” a croaking voice says. Age, I think. Old age. Or illness.
“Five,” I say. “Five, this is 1. I’m just now waked. I’m looking for direction.”
“Robot will do everything,” 5 says. “Robot can be trusted.”
“I hope so,” I say. And I am careful not to mention 2 or 3 or 4. “I want to try to come there. Or you can come to me.”
“No!”
Upsettingly strong, that no. Fearful. “There are five of us. One of us is crazy, one is classified, and I’m not sure about Unit 4. Listen to me. We two, just we, ought to get together and find out what we have. See if we can get some sense of where we are and whether we’re on track. I’m not coming immediately. I don’t want to upset anything, but I think ultimately all five of us ought to get together and compare notes. Robot may be one robot, with one idea. But we’re human. We need to put our minds to work and have some ideas of our own. We need to know, for one thing, if we’re where we think we are.”
“Don’t play those games with me.”
“What games, 5? What games are there? Why should I
be playing games? We’re all in this together.”
“And you’re more important than anybody. Aren’t you?”
“Because I’m 1? I don’t think so. I’m just one person. I’m a human being just like you. Don’t shut down on me. Listen.”
“One plays games with all of us. You build reality. You think you can tell us what to do.”
“Listen to me! I don’t know what 1’s problem was, if… if there’s been a problem.”
“Goodbye.”
“Don’t! Don’t break off. Talk to me.”
“You don’t run things, Number 1! You won’t get in here! I swear I’ll kill you.”
“What do you think I’m doing? What do you think I’ve done? I’ve only been awake an hour!”
“And you’re already trying. Leave us alone!”
“I signed on for this. I care about surviving.”
You care about surviving. You signed on just like I did. Can’t we all say that? Didn’t we all make a choice? And didn’t we all hope we got picked for this trip and somebody else didn’t?”
“I had no place else to be. I put my name in and I got picked and I’m not better or worse than the rest. Like you. You’re another, right? Article 13? I had no more choice than you do. I’m not after anything. My number came up and I’m standing here in this damn suit awake because I haven’t got a choice any more than you do. Don’t talk like I have some damn agenda! I’m asking is there anybody else out there who knows anything useful?”
“You’ve talked to 3.”
“I said I’ve talked to 3. I’ve talked to 2 and 3 and 4. Why is that a problem?”
“Two’s crazy.”
“I understand that. Two doesn’t want to talk and 3 doesn’t trust 2 and 4 doesn’t trust either one of them. Or me. How does that make sense?”
“It doesn’t. Or it does. Go away. Just don’t call again.”
“Explain to me or I’ll come over there. I can do it!”
“Don’t you dare! I’ll kill you. I will! Robot doesn’t belong to you.”
As if Robot could. Would. Did. Why did 5 think that?
“Robot. End communication.”
“Ending communication.”
I try to understand. But none of them make sense. And talking about owning Robot scares me. I don’t own Robot.
But does one of the others?
“Robot, does one of the five units have higher authority than the others?”
“No. All units are equal.”
Next question. Scary question. “Robot, does one of your partitions outrank any other?”
“All my partitions are equal.”
“So any one unit could give you an order.”
“Yes.”
“And another could stop you.”
“Provisional.”
Now they were into it.
“Explain provisional, in the statement you just made.”
“Survival of two units takes precedence over the survival of one. Survival of the ship takes precedence over all but one.”
“What if I said 2 was detrimental to the ship?”
“All parts are equal.”
God.
I stand there. In the control center. Where I am the only living thing.
The Awakened from 1 came here, and died.
“Has any other Awakened ever come to this center?”
“This Awakened came.”
The dead one. On the floor. The one nobody can recycle.
“Robot. Do you recycle ceased persons in the units?”
“Crew can order recycle.”
“Robot. Why can you not wake others?”
Because I have no orders, is the answer I expect. I can argue with that.
“Awakened Individuals use more resources. Resources must be preserved.”
“You cannot act to the detriment of the ship.”
“I cannot act to the detriment of the ship.”
“Receive information. Not waking other individuals harms the ship.”
“In the event of dilemma I select at random, with bias toward standing orders. I reject your proposition pending further information.”
Damn.
“I am going to Unit 4. I am going to stay there permanently. Awaken someone else for 1.”
“Stop.”
I walk beyond the arch. I touch the control plate that leads to the corridor.
Lights in the suit go out. It freezes. Utterly stops.
“Robot!”
“Stop.”
I need circulation.
“Robot, turn suit on!”
Fans start. Lights return.
I can draw my hand back. I do not venture to reach for the plate again.
I would like to sit down.
I would like to have a drink. I can get one from the tube, if I ask it to advance. Nanos in my bloodstream deal with waste. What remains goes to a collection unit that will eject.
Nourishment comes from a cylinder that slips into a similar socket. While I slept, this happened automatically.
Robot is right. An Awakened Individual uses more resources faster.
I would like to eat, drink, and sit down. But none of those things will happen. I can only remember them and try to enjoy the memory.
“Robot. How long did the previous Awakened live after waking?”
“849,293 days.”
2,326 years. An impossible number.
Time. Relativity. Maybe. Even so… 2,326 years…
Then he came to the control room. And died. He was not even the first Awakened.
We are impossibly far off schedule if that is true.
Why is 2 paranoid? Why do 4 and 5 want to be isolate? Why is 3 secretive?
Can a mind go a thousand, two thousand years like this—and stay sane?
Can I?
“Robot. Are we accelerating or decelerating?”
“Decelerating.”
“How long since launch?”
“19,539,000 days.”
A worse, far worse number.
I stand unmoving, dazed, quite numb for a moment.
“Is that ship time or Earth time, Robot?”
“That is ship time.”
The ship drinks dark matter. Fuel is not its problem. But Robot says we are decelerating.
“Robot, do you have a fix on Proxima?”
“Yes.”
Did crew opt to pass it? What were they thinking?
Now Robot is in control. Are we are coming back?
One hundred thirty-nine years.
I will see Proxima B.
I will see passengers waked, and resources will be a crisis.
Then what is Robot’s program?
Helmet lights flare red.
Robot asks: “Are you in distress?”
I take deep breaths. I turn the telltales peaceful white. I think.
“Robot.”
“I hear you.”
“I have information for you.”
“I can receive data.”
“I am the sane one.”
“Define sane.”
“I am functioning correctly.”
“Good.”
“I have information for you.”
“I hear you.”
“Unit 2 and 3 Awakened Individuals are malfunctioning. I have yet to make a decision on 3 and 4.”
“Understood.”
“Take action.”
“Understood.”
I should have a conscience. I should.
But I will live to see Proxima.
And the ship will.
My job and Robot’s are fairly simple. Conserve supply. Keep the passengers safe. Arrive at Proxima B. We come from an unstable star. Our journey has been far, far, far longer than expected. But we are close, now. If we can believe Robot’s estimate, we are almost there. Whatever the crew did, for whatever reason, we are almost there. We do not know what has happened to civilization where we were born. But our minds package it. We contain it. We carry it with us. We are what our
civilization made us.
Right and wrong are not my problem now.
Arrival is.