Interstellar Caveman

by Karl Beecher

  “Engaging in combat with Collective defence vessels.”

  “Engaging in combat? They attacked me! What else are they going to accuse me of, stealing the plasma energy they shot at me?”

  Sojawotz butted in again. “Professor Ju-Desh is asking the questions here.”

  “Yes,” sighed Tyresa, “I know. I was being rhetorical. Soggybots, why don’t you go and do something useful, like clean the viewports on my ship?”

  “Don’t shout at him,” snapped Ju-Desh as Sojawotz pouted. “You’ll only make him have another panic attack. The poor devil had one yesterday after getting his sleeve stuck in a janitor-bot’s vacuum nozzle.”

  Solawotz looked at the Professor, horrified. “I can’t believe you told her that.”

  “Oh, shut up.” Ju-Desh put down the slate. “Now, Jak, tell me what led you to stir up an inter-state diplomatic incident.”

  “I was acting on a tip,” replied Tyresa. “I heard from a reliable source that the Solo star system potentially housed Predecessor artifacts.”

  “Oh,” groaned Ju-Desh, “not these contacts of yours again. What did they tell you this time?”

  “Non-natural phenomena on the third planet. Detected several weeks ago by an automated survey ship, but left uninvestigated.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Certain other factors led me to believe it was worthy of investigation.”

  “Such as?”

  Tyresa struggled for a moment. Ju-Desh wasn’t going to like her answer. “Instinct?”

  Ju-Desh closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “And for that, you deem it necessary to violate the Collective’s territory? You didn’t think for one moment to ask for their permission?”

  “There was no time, I couldn’t risk waiting and letting someone else act on the same information. Besides, you know the Collective, they’d never have given permission.”

  Sojawotz interrupted. “The Collective is party to the Archaeological Treaty. They have to allow archaeological staff to travel freely.”

  “No,” replied Tyresa. “Under terms of the treaty, they may exercise their own discretion regarding which planets may be visited. If you ever left your office and did some fieldwork, Soggywits, you might have learned that.”

  “Leave him alone,” said Ju-Desh. “You know his allergies prevent him from fieldwork.”

  “Allergic to trowels is he?” Tyresa muttered. “Look, Professor, I checked out the records. People have made requests to survey Solo before and always been refused. If I had asked to survey, they’d have refused me too, and then they’d be alerted to my interest. Instead, I decided to slip in quietly without drawing any unnecessary attention.”

  “Which is why Professor Phrizbott here told me yesterday that the Transhumanist Collective made an official complaint concerning territorial violation by a vessel registered to this university!”

  “Okay,” replied Tyresa. “So I was a little louder than I’d hoped, but it wasn’t all in vain. I found something very interesting. Some-one in fact.”

  “Ah, yes,” said Ju-Desh, picking up the slate once more. “I read your report. This hermit you found in a cave… Colin Douglass.”

  “It wasn’t a cave. It was a cavern. Man-made. And he’s not a hermit. He was in suspended animation.”

  “And you think he’s of archaeological value?”

  “Yeah. He could be real interesting to study. In fact…” Tyresa swallowed. She couldn’t believe she was about to say this. “… there’s even a chance he might be able to tell us about pre-spacefaring society.”

  “How do you figure that?” said Ju-Desh. “He must have lived during a spacefaring era. How else could he have arrived on Solo III?”

  “Well…” Tyresa fidgeted. “He claims to have been born on Solo III.”

  Professor Phrizbott finally sat forward and spoke up. “Born there?” His slow movements and powerful voice suggested a man who had never once needed to shout to make a point. “The sole inhabitant of a lifeless planet?”

  “I know, it sounds crazy,” said Tyresa. “He claims the planet used to be able to sustain life before he went into stasis. Furthermore, he says that people on his planet didn’t have space travel.”

  “So they lost it?”

  “No… He says that humans evolved on Solo III.”

  This last remark put a stupified smile on the face of Sojawotz, while Phrizbott rolled his eyes. Ju-Desh meanwhile was keeping her cards close to her chest.

  “Oh, please,” drawled Phrizbott. “How many planets have made that claim already? A dead ball of rock in some backwater of the galaxy, the origin of our species? Idiotic.”

  “Like I said, sounds crazy, but I think there’s reason enough to look into it.”

  “Let me get this straight,” he said. “You found some hermit on a dead planet living in a cave…”

  “Cavern,” said Tyresa. “It wasn’t a ca—”

  “… who claims that he alone knows this planet gave rise to humanity, and you give credence to this man? A man who is suffering from serious mental degeneration.”

  “It’s memory loss, not ment—”

  “I know what you’re trying to pull, Doctor Jak. You’re wildly overstating your case to try and save your skin. It won’t work with me. You’ve caused a stink by violating territorial sovereignty, and that merits disciplinary action.”

  “But what about Colin? You don’t find people hibernating underground on dead planets every day, right?”

  Phrizbott was dismissive. “Pfft. No doubt this man is a curiosity. Probably part of some strange group who put themselves into stasis because they thought doomsday was coming or something. But to take him seriously and pursue an investigation would be laughable. Not to mention dangerous. You know what can happen to people when they start questioning Erd as humanity’s origin.”

  He didn’t need to spell it out. Tyresa already knew how people who loudly questioned Erd tended to disappear or end up dead, especially the ones with serious credentials like journalists and scientists. It had even happened to some of Tyresa’s fellow archaeologists.

  Phrizbott continued. “Is this really a hill you’d choose to die on, Jak? Better scholars than you have tried and failed.”

  Tyresa felt her face go red with anger. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “I mean: humanity’s origin is a question of theory. It requires serious scholarship, and that is hardly your speciality. To put it kindly, you’re of a more… practical nature. No offence, but you’re a treasure hunter, not a high-minded scholar. Take my advice: stick with what you know.”

  “But we can’t just call him crazy or a liar and leave it at that. Suppose he’s telling the truth?” The issue was starting to feel important to her. If she wasn’t careful, she was in danger of believing her own bullshit.

  “In which case,” said Ju-Desh, “he’d have to originate before the breakdown. That would make him centuries old, perhaps close to two millennia. Have you any evidence of that?”

  Tyresa shook her head. “I didn’t bring suitable dating equipment with me for this trip. I never expected to be dating living organisms…”

  “Indeed,” said Sojawotz. “Why change the habit of a lifetime?”

  Tyresa grimaced, but resisted her urge to throw something heavy at him. “… so I’ve ordered some NND readings2 to be taken from him here at the university.”

  “NND readings?” exclaimed Sojawotz. “Oh, come now, Jak, that won’t tell you how old he is. Any number of things could have contaminated the result: neutrino spikes, variance in background radiation, even the stasis field itself.”

  Phrizbott turned to Ju-Desh. “Is this true, Professor?”

  Ju-Desh nodded. “Yes, NND is far from clear cut in this case, but Doctor Jak is a good field archaeologist, if a little wayward at times. I presume she’s taken sufficient precautions and provided careful estimates of all the unknown factors.”

  Tyresa knew that a back-handed compliment was Ju-Desh’s
highest form of praise.

  “That’s all very well,” said Phrizbott. “But what does it matter? A dozen years, a hundred, a thousand. At whatever point he went into stasis, he was already a lunatic then and so his memory can’t be trusted now.”

  “It might not matter,” said Ju-Desh. “But there again, if it’s true, it might be a chance to learn about what happened during the breakdown.”

  “Absolutely,” agreed Tyresa. “And Colin isn’t a lunatic, Professor. He has a condition that will make him lose his memory in the future. There’s no reason to doubt the stuff he remembers now.”

  Phrizbott waved her remarks aside. “I think we’re in danger of losing our way here. Let’s not forget this meeting isn’t a seminar, it’s a disciplinary hearing convened to discuss Doctor Jak’s transgression. Doctor Jak, if you’ve nothing further to add, you may be excused.”

  She shook her head. It was pointless to say any more. She knew what was coming, no reason to fight it. It always happened this way.

  She was halfway to the door when Ju-Desh said, “Wait outside, Doctor. But don’t go far. We’ll need to talk about your future.”

  19

  Colin hadn’t known what to expect before going into the bar. As soon as he was inside, he recognised something about the place instinctively.

  Something he didn’t like.

  “Oh, no,” groaned Colin. “A student bar?”

  He may have been on a different planet, light-years away from home after untold centuries in stasis, but the nauseating vibe was unmistakeable.

  The bar was dark and dingy. Like every other student bar he remembered, the ceiling was too low. Was that a universal rule of student bars? In a city of skyscrapers reaching hundreds of feet into the air, why was the ceiling so bloody low?

  It was also tightly packed with people: chirpy, young ones, loud and possessing the kind of indefatigable optimism that made Colin wretch. Typically for students, they weren’t just drinking and socialising. They had to have amusements too. In one corner, patrons were using some kind of hand-held device to take videos of themselves. The snippets of holographic footage were then added to a gallery of hundreds of others, which filled an entire wall and looked like a scene selection menu for the most tedious DVD in history. In another corner stood something resembling a pool table with various coloured balls on its surface. However, the players had no cues, instead taking turns using some kind of headset. As far as Colin could tell, they were controlling the balls telepathically. He guessed the drunker-looking of the two players was losing when, during her turn, one ball leapt from the table and struck her on the nose.

  This was the last place Colin wanted to be, but it was hard to avoid student bars when surrounded by two million students in a city that was basically a university. Still, there was one good thing about the place: in a day full of bemusement, disappointment, and stupefaction, it taught Colin that the human penchant for alcohol had persisted throughout the ages.

  The counter stretched along a whole side of the room, the wall behind which was covered by rows of bottles. With Ade trailing behind, Colin walked to the bar, looking forward to sampling some futuristic wine and daring to get his hopes up. Then the bartender approached. It looked like this wasn’t going to be easy.

  The bartender was a robot.

  It was one of several identical ‘bar-bots.’ They had angular, metallic bodies each with a red waistcoat and black bow-tie painted onto it, and heads like a motorcycle helmet. Advertisements scrolled across their visors, which were occasionally replaced with menus when people enquired what was on offer.

  The robot stared silently at Colin. Colin looked at Ade.

  “You may order your drink now, sir,” Ade told him.

  Colin ordered a wine, one which Ade assured him was considered normal. The robot possessed arms, but to Colin’s surprise, it didn’t use them to prepare his drink. Instead, while the robot used its arms to clean the bar, something like a hosepipe emerged out of the bar-bot’s back. It extended and stretched up like an enchanted snake until it connected to one of the bottles behind the bar. Liquid was pumped from the bottle into the robot’s body. A moment later, the hosepipe retracted, and a little door on the bar-bot’s chest opened.

  There inside was Colin’s drink. He turned and looked at Ade with an alarmed expression.

  Ade simply beckoned to the glass. “By all means, sir,” he said.

  “I’m supposed to reach inside the bartender’s chest and take out the drink?” asked Colin, amazed that he now lived in a time where that sentence made sense. He reached gingerly for the glass. “Incredible. If there’s some way to spoil a perfectly good experience, the future provides it.”

  He took a sip. It bore little resemblance to any wine he remembered. Colin was a dry, red sort of man. This was more sweet, green, and fizzy. Still, he was determined to enjoy it.

  He remained at the bar with Ade, drinking one glass after another and questioning the android more about the times he now inhabited. The conversation soon turned to the political map of the galaxy, which Tyresa had shown him earlier. The whole situation still confused him.

  Ade explained how humanity was split into several dozen rival states. The Alliance of Free Worlds was just one of several larger powers among whom rivalries—while never quite reaching the level of all-out war—remained tense. The dozens of remaining states were smaller, spread out and highly diverse. Some were fiercely independent; others clamoured to ally with their neighbours. Some were famed throughout the galaxy and attracted visitors in their millions; others were obscure, mysterious, and practically unknown. Many ended up as pawns of the larger powers in one great game of interstellar politics.

  Colin pondered over what Ade had told him. “It’s a sh–hic… a shame really,” said Colin, suddenly realising how much wine he’d drunk.

  “A shame, sir?”

  “Yeah. Humans all split up like this. You know, I had friends back on Earth, Jeremy and Martin. Nice guys, but they were into science fi–hic—tion, poor devils. Science fiction… not one of my things, I have to say. But, one has to give it credit: it gave some people hope.”

  “Indeed, sir?”

  “There was a TV show in my time. All about the crew of a sharstip… starship… who went from planet to planet and took on the bad guys and sorted out the problems. It was called… um… well, I’ll be damned, I can’t remember its name. Huh! Must be the drink. Anyway, on that TV show, all humanity was united together. They all lived and worked together in peace and… and… peacefulness.”

  “A most inspiring notion, sir.”

  “Of course, I didn’t care for the show, but I must admit it was nice to hope that one day we’d finally sort out our differences and live together as one. And just think, out of all the people on Earth, all those millions who dreamed and hoped about the future, I’m the only one who knows it didn’t turn out that way.” He leaned farther onto the counter and ran his finger on the rim of his glass. “I guess it’s for the best that the guys aren’t here to see it. They’d have been disappointed to see we’re still a bunch of squabbling apes. Still, it’d be nice to have them here. At least there’d be someone for me to relate to.”

  Colin stared at his half-empty glass of wine. A melancholic feeling crept over him. Now he definitely knew he’d drunk too much. This always happened when he got sloshed.

  “Excuse me,” came a voice from behind. “Are you the man found by Tyresa Jak?”

  “Ugh,” groaned Colin, turning around. “Not another—” He stopped mid-flow, his senses overawed by colour. Standing there were two young ladies both with long, neon-coloured hair (one bright red, the other green), wearing psychedelic dresses that would have been deemed too excessive for Woodstock and an array of jewellery that flickered and flashed like miniature models of Las Vegas. If Colin suffered from epilepsy, he was about to find out. “Um… sorry?”

  The red-haired of the two—who seemed the more enthusiastic one—said, “The man found on Solo III
? Is that you?”

  “Oh, him, I mean, yes… yes, that’s me.”

  “Oh, my dog!” she said. “It’s really you. You’re the caveman!”

  There it was again. Caveman. It was like a little bit of Colin died every time he heard that word.

  “Were you really found in a cave?”

  “No,” said Colin, “it wasn’t a cave, it was a cavern—”

  “I told you it was him!” the red-haired one said to her friend, too excited to let Colin finish.

  “All right, calm down,” said the green-haired lady. She turned to Colin. “She’s been so excited about you.”

  “She has?”

  “Yeah,” said green. “She says you’re the answer to her prayers.”

  Colin gulped nervously. “I am?”

  “Uh-huh,” said red. “I’m taking Doctor Jak’s anthropology module next semester. I’ll have to write a dissertation for her, but I have no subject yet. And, to be honest, my grades aren’t so good. But now you’ve come along, I’ve got this wild idea. It’s going to be so galactic. I want to make you the subject of my dissertation.”

  “Oh, I see,” said Colin, relieved. “So you’re archaeology students?”

  “She is,” said green. “I’m not. I do metachemistry. She’s the practical one, can’t you tell?”

  Colin just smiled awkwardly.

  “So would that be okay with you?” said red. “I think it would really impress Doctor Jak if I did my dissertation on her own work. She’d give me a galactic grade, I’m sure of it.”

  “Her work?” echoed Colin. “I’m her work?”

  “It’s really clever,” she said. “You see, professors are all egoists. It’s all about them and their work. If I pretend to be really interested in her own research, she’s bound to grade me higher. So what do you say? I’ll conduct a few interviews, get some DNA, do a neuro scan.”

  “Well, I don’t—” said Colin.

  “Oh, some isotopic tests too. I can see it now, it’s going to be great. I could find out all sorts of things about you.”

  “You should have sex with him too,” said green. “That’ll teach you a few things.”