I said, “OK. I do want to trust you.”
We walked along, or at least I did, and she said, “Hey, Jimmy, do you want to hear the weirdest thing you ever heard? The freakiest thing imaginable? Something to totally blow your mind, as you Earth dudes say?”
I said, “I suppose so.”
She said, “No, this is huge. The weirdest hugest freakiest thing in the universe. To me at least. What if I told you that the Earth and everyone on it was blown up and you are the only survivor and I’m from the future and I’m really the disembodied voice of your great-great-great-granddaughter and I came back to rescue you at the last minute, and now, because of compounding interest, that you are the richest man in the universe?”
I said dubiously, “Is that the kind of thing that you’re likely to tell me? And if so, if I had been blown up, I wouldn’t have any great-great-great-granddaughter to come rescue me anyway. And if I had a blah blah granddaughter, I must not have been blown up in the first place. So there.”
Eevona laughed and said, “Ah, you’ve run rings around me logically. But if the Earth was blown up, and you weren’t, it would have to be because you had someone to rescue you, and the fact that you are alive would prove that you could have a great-blah-blah and she could and did rescue you otherwise you wouldn’t be alive. But no, that isn’t the kind of thing that I’m likely to tell you. Except for the compounding interest and being the richest man in the universe where I come from.”
I said, “Really?”
She laughed again and said, “No! Jeez. And your whole industry of taking people’s money and brokering a deal to charge people to borrow it is pretty much unheard of and would be considered borderline criminal out here. People make a living charging people for money? That’s bizarre. The whole middle-man culture is almost as weird as what I’m trying to tell you about. People whose only job is to make people want to buy something they don’t want from a guy who does nothing but sell things he had no part in making? There is nowhere else but Earth where Storage Units where you pay to keep the junk you don’t want but feel you can’t throw away nearly outnumbers coffee shops. I’ve done the math. Because it astounds me.”
We had reached the infirmary now and I went to fill my drink bottle and start drinking what was going to serve as my breakfast, and possibly my only form of sustenance on this journey into madness.
I said, “Yeah, I did that. One time I spent 2500 dollars to store stuff for two years. The stuff was only worth 600 dollars. I would have been almost 2000 dollars ahead if I’d just thrown it away, which I eventually did.”
Eevona said, “But if you’d invested that 2000 in a mutual fund with a reasonable yield, after taxes on your gain from the dividends, you could have bought more stuff. You’ll find that commerce out here is conducted in cash. You guys didn’t even carry money in your pockets. You just transferred electronic funds around. And on every transaction, someone who didn’t do anything took a percentage. All for the convenience of not putting things in your pockets. You can do that when you live in a closed system, but Space is big.”
Then she said, “Here’s the real thing. Don’t think I’m kidding about this. I’ve thought it over. OK, here it is. Ready? I’m not, but here goes. OK, no more beating around the bush. The thing is, and this is really wild, and I am totally telling the truth now, so here it is. Um, put down your drink. I don’t want hydration liquid coming out your nose. Ready? OK. Jimmy, I’m in love with you.”
Neither of us spoke for half a minute.
Finally, Eevona said, “Jimmy, are you there? I see you sitting there, but I don’t hear you saying anything. And the readings from the implant don’t make sense.”
I laughed and took a drink and said, “How so? What do the readings say?”
She said, “Well, they say that you had almost no reaction to what I was saying, either positive or negative. The device is working, but all I saw was a very calm, I don’t know, acceptance. Like if I told you it was dark outside. Which it is. But you probably knew that.”
I said, “I did think that it was probably dark outside. But Eevona, now do you want to hear the freakiest thing you ever heard?”
She said cautiously, “OK?”
I said, “Eevona, I love you. And, I figured you loved me. You find me attractive and you want me to like you and you hope that you can convince me to move in with you, so I’m pretty sure you have feelings that we’d call love developing. I didn’t react because it wasn’t new information. In a way, I’m sorry that I didn’t say it first. As far as I can tell, you are a real person, and I’m absolutely in love with you in some way, too. Hell, we took a shower together and had sex. I don’t do that lightly. For me, that was an act of bonding. Maybe it’s crazy, but somehow I don’t feel like it is. It’s crazy and not crazy at the same time. It’s pretty much the same as if we’d met on an online dating site and had started a relationship over messaging and phone calls. We could easily decide that we felt love for each other without every meeting physically. It happens all the time.”
Eevona said, “Oh good. Oh, that’s wonderful. I was so afraid to tell you. But I had to, you know? Like I just had too.”
I said, “I’m glad you did. That will make it easier. Ee, I guess I’m staying. With you. I don’t know what that means, and maybe I don’t know what I’m getting into, but yeah, I guess I’ve decided to stay.”
She said, “Ee? That’s nice. OK, from now on, call me Ee. Or whatever you want. I’m so happy. I sort of wish we didn’t have to wake up the crew-cargo yet. But we do. One at a time.”
I said, “Speaking of time, what time is it?”
She said, “What do you mean? You asked that before. Do you mean the local time where you came from? Or some standard time on Earth? Or the local time on some other inhabited world?”
I said, “Oh, I hadn’t thought about that. Let’s start with how long was I asleep?”
Ee said, “Um, even that’s a tough one in a way. Your heartbeats are variable. I could give you a number or an average based on resting metabolism.”
I said, “Ee, are you evading the question?”
She said, “Maybe.”
I said suspiciously, “Why?”
She said, “Jimmy, time is weird.”
I said, “How so?”
She said, “Well, you've heard that time is an illusion, and lunchtime doubly so. Right?”
I said, “Yeah. From the Hitchhiker’s Guide, again.”
She said, “Well, it’s more true than you’d think. Time needs an external reference. Like a heartbeat, which is variable, or a pendulum swing, which is variable under the right circumstances, or molecular vibration, which is also variable. Molecules vibrate at different speeds based on various quantum factors. So, if you were wearing a watch, you would have a concept of time, but your experience of it isn’t uniform, and um, here’s the point, someone in a different part of the universe might experience it completely differently.”
I said, “Ee, you are being intentionally obtuse. What time is it at my house?”
She said hesitantly, “As far as I can calculate, based on the complex variability of the equations, give or take some margin of error, it might be about noon, on maybe what you’d call December 4th, 2265.”
This time I was surprised.
She said, “Um, there’s a really good reason for that. There was damage. Are you mad? You don’t look mad.”
I said, “246 years in the future?”
Ee said, “Does it help if I say I’m sorry?”
I took a breath and said, “You know what, it doesn’t matter. No, I’m not mad. In fact, you don’t even need to try to explain it right now. There was damage.”
Ee repeated, “There was damage.”
I said, “Are you actually sorry?”
She said quietly, “No. I didn’t do it on purpose. And I’m not sorry you decided to come aboard and I’m not sorry you decided to stay with me and I’m not sorry that I am in love with you. I’m only sorry
if it makes you sad. Or makes you think that you don’t like me.”
I said, “No, I still like you. And it really doesn’t matter. We can’t stay on Earth. So I’m staying with you and it doesn’t matter that for some reason 246 years have passed. In fact, I’m fine with it. So, are you saying that you have no way of telling time on the ship?”
She said, “It’s more like I’m saying that time is irrelevant. I can count the estimated number of some time units that will pass until a certain event occurs, like I did when the crew-cargo were dying, but other than that, things happen when they happen. It’s more event-driven, right? What time do you go to the bathroom? You go when you need to. You will eat when it is time, and by that, we mean when you want or need to. Sleep until you wake up. Wake up when your body or I tell you that it’s time.”
I protested, saying, “But how will we know when it’s time to…” and I let my voice trail off.
Maybe she was right. If I slept when I was tired, ate when I was hungry, or when other people were eating, and did other things when events warranted, why did I need to know what time it was? The lighting was artificial. There would be no day or night here. The lights would be on or off depending on events.
I said, “OK then, what time is it now?”
Ee said happily, “It’s time to take care of crew-cargo number One.”
I said, “OK, let’s do it.”
She said, “I need to tell you what to do. Are you comfortable there? In that chair? We could go to a lounge or something.”
I said, “Whatever you think is best.”
She said, “OK, follow the Yellow Brick Road.”
I stood up and followed where she indicated. The lights this time actually were yellow. Maybe she had the ability to change them to whatever she wanted. Ee led me to a room close to the storage bay that looked like a lounge similar to the one in my stateroom. Sitting in a comfortable chair, me, not her, Ee started to explain.
She said, “OK. First, you have to memorize something. Repeat after me. Eevona barada nikto.”
I said, “Ee, you’re teasing me again.”
She said, “No. What’s wrong? I upset you. How? It’s a password that you have to say when they wake up to tell them that everything’s OK and they shouldn’t go into combat mode. Otherwise, they see you and if you don’t have the password, they assume that the ship has been taken and they initiate a kill scenario. What’s wrong? You can handle this. It’s simple.”
I said, “You’re serious? Eevona barada nikto?”
She exclaimed, “Perfect! Try again.”
I said, “Eevona barada nikto!” putting a forceful emphasis on the words.
She said, “Excellent. Just like that.”
I said, “On Earth, it was Klaatu barada nikto.”
She said, “I don’t know who Klaatu is. Klaatu is a fairly common name though. But you have to use my name. The name of the ship. Otherwise, they will…”
I said, “I know, initiate a kill scenario. I can certainly say that, but why don’t you just say it for us?”
She said, “Because it doesn’t work like that. OK, as soon as the Unit shows signs of consciousness, say the password.”
I said, “The Unit?”
She said, “Yes, the Unit. The unit of crew-cargo. Now, we need to move on. You know the password, right?”
I said, “Yes. I know the password. Eevona barada nikto. Got it.”
Ee said, “OK. About the Units. They are what you would describe as genetically engineered and enhanced biological Units. Right now, they are covered in goop, hairless, and their skin color hasn’t stabilized. When they wake up, they will be disoriented, and after you say the password, compliant. They will do what you tell them too, but you may have to tell them twice. You will have to lead them where you want them to go and you will have to position them manually until they stabilize somewhat. Jimmy, they are going to look weird at first. I don’t think they’re weird, but you already said you thought they were dead. They aren’t. And their appearance will change as they stabilize. Questions?”
I said, “Genetically engineered? Like how?”
Ee said, “I don’t quite remember. They will know more.”
I said, “But what are they?”
Ee said, “Let me review analogies from Earth culture. OK. I think I have it. Jimmy, the closest analogies are that they are clones. Or replicants.”
I said, “Replicants? Like stronger faster versions of people? Like from Blade Runner?”
Ee said, “As close as I can describe them, yes.”
I said, “Are they intelligent?”
Ee said, “Jimmy, they are absolutely intelligent. And sentient. And emotional. And free-thinking. Think of them as a different, but compatible, race of humanoids. That’s why I think that you will like them. They’ll be naked.”
I said, “Oh. OK.”
Ee said, “Now, after the password, you have to clean them up, while they are still in the compliant state. They will be aware of everything that you do, but entirely passive and most likely, uncommunicative. We wake them up, you say the password, you help them out of storage, you take them to the washing station, and you clean them up. After that, we let them stabilize and orient. Got it?”
I said, “I guess so.”
Ee said, “Good. Let’s go.”
Ee led me by way of the lights on the floor back to the room that I thought of as the morgue. Inside were the three drawers with the strange faces sticking out of the openings that I had cut in the “body-bags”.
Forcing myself to look at the things now, I could see that they did look essentially human. They were indeed covered with a slimy transparent goop. The skin was whitish-gray and the heads were completely bald and shiny. They were breathing, and according to Eevona, asleep. And they would stay that way until we woke them up.
Ee said, “You can close the first and third drawers for now. We’ll start with the middle one.”
I pushed two of the drawers closed.
Ee said, “The washing station is behind this panel.”
A door slid open to reveal a shower big enough for just one person. Handheld shower-wands were attached by hoses to opposite walls.
She said, “When the unit wakes up, explain everything that you are doing and everything that you want them to do. Tell them before anything happens. Normally a specially trained team would be brought on board or they would take the units off-ship to handle this. We don’t have that option. We have a limited amount of time before they start to go into distress, now that the containment seals have been broken. Pull the drawer all the way out. It will click into place as supports drop down to support it.”
I took hold of the handle and pulled. When I was done, the drawer had turned into something like an ambulance gurney with wheels underneath so that the Unit could be transported. I wasn’t totally comfortable with the nomenclature. These were apparently living beings; it was uncomfortable to think of them as “Units of cargo”.
Ee said, “OK. Good. It looks good. Your scissors are laying on the floor where you dropped them. We’re going to have to cut the bag open. This is fun. I’ve never done this before. I’m looking forward to feeling your reactions. Here we go. Cut down both sides of the bag. Be careful not to cut the Unit itself.”
I said, “You don’t have to tell me that. OK. Like this?” and I started cutting from the shoulder to the foot.
Ee said, “Yep. Just like that. OK. Go to the other side and do the same thing. Great. Everything looks great.”
I said, “Are you sure that I shouldn’t be wearing coveralls or something?”
Ee laughed and said, “Absolutely sure. You have to wash it, and that means that you’ll be getting wet again. The goop won’t hurt you. Ready for your first real look at an extraterrestrial being?”
I took a breath and said, “I guess so.”
Ee said, “It’s going to be naked.”
I said, “OK.”
Ee said, “You’re going to like
it.”
I said, “I don’t think so.”
She said, “I bet you do.”
I said, “I bet I don’t.”
She said, “If I’m right, you have to take a shower and do what you did for me before.”
I said, “And if you’re wrong?”
She said, “I’m not.”
I said, “But if you are?”
She said, “If I’m wrong, and you don’t find it, shall we say, somewhat interesting, I’ll let you stay on the ship rent-free for a whole month.”
I said, “I won’t like it and that isn’t much of a deal for me.”
She said, “Look, you said you were going to trust me. Trust me. You’ll like it.”
I said, “I think I’m going to barf.”
She said, “No you’re not! What a wussy. Do some kind of mindfulness thing or whatever you do with your little plants. Or something. Tell you what. I’ll wait,” and she started to hum.
I said, “OK. I’m ready,” but Ee kept humming and seemed to ignore me.
She was right. I needed to adjust to my situation and accept it. I needed to become part of it. This wasn’t a dream or a movie. This was my real life now. I hadn’t really thought about it yet. What was real right now?
First of all, I was on a space ship. It was 246 years into the future, the last time I checked. Everything I knew was gone. All that was real was what was around me now. My only companion was Ee. I liked Ee. I was planning to stay and make this my life.
What else? In front of me was a table with a slimy extraterrestrial being. If I didn’t do something, it wouldn’t survive, according to Ee. It was the reason that all of this had happened. Ee had to save her crew-cargo, and I was the best chance she’d had of doing that. I liked Ee and wanted to stay on this wild ride, so I wasn’t complaining. It was all just new and different, not wrong. None of this was wrong. Given the choices to make for myself, I hoped that I would have chosen all of this.
For Pete’s sake, here was a living breathing ET lying in front of me! If I leaned into my circumstances, this was the coolest thing that I could imagine. Well, apart from sitting in silence and pruning a tiny Japanese Pine tree. But maybe this wasn’t so different?
First Recruits Page 4