The Loneliest Girl in the Universe

by Lauren James

  I open up the audio communication program, hoping it won’t take too long to learn how to initiate a transmission. On the main menu is the option to scan for transmitters within range of the ship. I start the search, chewing on my nails. By now, they’re short stubs, torn away at the skin.

  The Eternity pops up in the Contacts list, followed by a series of numbers – the International Celestial Reference Frame coordinates of the ship, probably, showing its position in space.

  Available Contacts (1)

  The Eternity [ICRFJ002133.9+472421] IM · Dial · Block

  Reference coordinates aren’t usually included in the communications software I use. I wonder how far away The Eternity is now – will the time lag be noticeably shorter today? On a map, how far apart would our ships look?

  I wonder if there’s a way to combine the communications software that J sent me with The Infinity’s guidance system. If I have the coordinates, there must be a way to display The Eternity’s location visibly. If I can set up a map, I could leave it running in the corner of the screen, and watch our ships get closer together until they finally meet and join as one. It would be so exciting to watch it.

  I open up the guidance system, loading a map of the galaxy. Then I return to the communications software and export the code that controls the coordinate scanning. After some trial and error, I manage to import the code to the guidance system and create an almost functional mapping device.

  I zoom in to the coordinates in the range [ICRFJ001500.0+300000] to [ICRFJ002400.0+500000], which I think should narrow the search field enough to pick up both mine and J’s ships visibly on the screen. Then I scan for nearby transmitters.

  The Infinity pops up first, a tiny white oval on the black map. Then The Eternity’s icon appears, a blip that, to my disappointment, is still a huge distance away from The Infinity. I suppose closeness is relative in space. Just because we can talk now doesn’t mean J’s not still millions of kilometres away.

  I’m about to shut down the map when another icon pops up on the screen. It’s labelled UPR. It’s in the same place as The Eternity.

  I freeze, staring at the screen. The program must have made a mistake. The UPR’s headquarters are on Earth – they definitely aren’t in space with J and me.

  It’s such a strange, impossible error that I restart the scanner, unsure how it could have imagined that the UPR are close by. The second time, the results are the same. The UPR pops up alongside The Eternity.

  I don’t understand. I can’t make sense of any of this. I stare at the screen as my brain refuses to accept what I’m seeing. It looks like…

  I rub my eyes, then read it again.

  There must be an error with the software. This can’t be possible.

  I shake my head and close down the program. It’s kind of funny, in a way. The Eternity and the UPR are seventeen trillion kilometres apart. I force myself to smile. What a silly mistake.

  Abruptly, I stand up and walk across the room. Then I stop and turn back to stare at the computer.

  I should prove it’s a mistake. Just to be absolutely certain. It will only take a few seconds. If I check the UPR’s emails and find their real coordinates on Earth, then it will be obvious that the scanning software has got it wrong.

  After walking back to the computer, I go into my emails. I access the source code of the raw transmission data from the last email I received from the UPR, searching for the origin coordinates. They must be hidden somewhere in the code.

  When I find them, the coordinates are listed as being somewhere in space again. Not on Earth at all. This isn’t just a malfunction with the audio program or guidance software. This is … something else. Something I don’t understand.

  Going through the last ten messages from the UPR, I plot out the coordinates and display them on my map. Every message was sent from a different place. The coordinates follow a straight line between Earth and The Infinity, as if whatever is transmitting the messages is getting closer to me every time. The messages from the UPR follow the path of The Eternity.

  The coordinates don’t lie. Every message from the UPR is coming from the same route as The Eternity.

  Nothing makes any sense. I check the origin coordinates of my messages from J, clinging desperately to the hope that there’s been some kind of computer error.

  Every email sent from J and the UPR has had matching coordinates for the last six months. Both have come from the same place every single time. How can the UPR be emailing me from The Eternity?

  I can only think of one explanation, but my mind refuses to accept it. It’s impossible.

  Fear weighs down my ribs, forcing my breaths back inside my lungs instead of letting them free.

  Someone on The Eternity has been sending emails to me as the UPR.

  No.

  It’s insane. Even just the idea is a betrayal of J, of our friendship. I don’t believe it. There’s no way in the universe that J – my lovely, sweet, considerate J – would ever, ever do anything like this. He would never hurt me.

  Would he?

  I go back and check every single message the transmitter has picked up in the last year, lining them up on my map until the evidence is undeniable. They all come from The Eternity.

  I stand up and start pacing the room again. How can I process what I’ve discovered in a way that makes sense?

  Abruptly, I return to the computer. I add Molly’s emails to the map, just to double-check that this isn’t some weird problem with the transmission data. Her old messages are all sourced as coming from Earth, just as they should be. This isn’t a strange quirk of the technology.

  I keep adding messages, trying to find the moment the error began. Finally, I add the most recent messages from Molly, when she told me that a war was starting on Earth, so she wouldn’t be able to talk to me for a while.

  They came from The Eternity.

  I redo my work to make sure I haven’t made a mistake, but it’s correct. Molly’s final messages came from The Eternity, not from Earth.

  Those last few messages from her, telling me about NASA’s communication problems and the war – they were emails, I realize in horror. Not her normal audio messages. I never heard her voice – her actual voice – say anything about the war. Only the emails did. The ones from The Eternity.

  Was there ever even a war at all? Was the whole thing made up? Is the UPR even real? Or is it—

  Is it fake?

  I try to swallow. My mouth tastes of the iron-rich rush of blood. Maybe there’s someone else on The Eternity sending these messages to me. It can’t be him. It’s not in J’s nature to lie. Is it?

  My brain can’t keep up with all of the new discoveries. I’m shaking. I look over my shoulder, half-expecting to see J there, staring at me.

  I feel like someone’s torn out my heart. There’s a pounding, throbbing roar in my ears.

  J did this. He invented everything. The political disputes. The communication problems. The war. The UPR.

  Even as I think it, I don’t believe it. There’s no way that it was J. It’s impossible.

  But someone made it up. Someone has been lying to me. Someone on The Eternity. And – however much I wish it wasn’t the case – that means it can only be him.

  I curl up in my bunk, staring at the walls of my silent, helpless ship and trying not to sink into another panic attack.

  This isn’t right. Someone so lovely couldn’t possibly have such horrible motives. Not my J: kind and tender.

  Could they? Could he really be anything but my lovely J?

  It’s not true.

  I can’t let it be true.

  My heart is fighting against my brain. I still don’t believe that this is possible. I must have made a mistake.

  I scour the data, reprocessing the raw binary code and checking it by hand to make sure there isn’t a translation error.

  I don’t find anything.

  If the UPR is made up, that means that all of their messages – their ins
tructions about how to preserve power, fix the malfunctioning equipment and make the ship more efficient – are actually from J.

  Why would he do that? Why would he bother to invent a war and a new government like the UPR and then just use them to help me make The Infinity better? He could have told me what to do himself, without using the UPR at all. It doesn’t make any sense. Unless…

  Oh no. No, no, no, no, no, no.

  The program. The new operating system – the one the UPR sent me. The power cuts only started after the new software was installed. The UPR were the ones who told me there was even a problem with my ship at all.

  If it was actually from J … what did he do to it?

  Why would he want to update my software? Did he add any subroutines to the new version?

  Were there ever any real problems? Or did J manipulate that? All those times when the ship failed, when the lights and heating system turned off. Was that on purpose, to torment me?

  It’s possible there was never an energy problem. It could all have been faked. If so, he stopped me from showering, from using the lights. I can’t even imagine what kind of person would ever want to do that to another human being. It’s torture. Physical and psychological torture.

  Unable to breathe properly around my fear, I search for a way to remove the software from the computer, to return it to the old version. But it’s gone. It was deleted months ago to make room for the new OS.

  I’m stuck with J’s program running my ship. Does he have access to it? He might be able to see everything I’m doing. Is he watching me, right at this moment?

  I go into the software’s settings and try to deactivate it. I’ve wasted so much time following his stupid, pointless rules. I can’t let him control me. Not any more.

  The most I can do is limit the OS’s permissions to make sure it doesn’t do anything dangerous, like shut down the life-support systems. I can’t stop it from causing power cuts. Every single time the lights flicker out, it will remind me of how stupid I was to fall for his lies. Romy the Gullible.

  At lunchtime, I hear the ding of the arrival of two new emails. It takes me over an hour to summon the courage to read them. I brace myself, trying to convince my brain that I don’t feel scared any more, that this isn’t affecting me. It’s only words, after all. I should be able to handle that. If I were strong enough, this would all slide off me.

  The worst thing is that I know if J says something gentle and sweet and tender, I won’t be able to stop my heart jumping, even when I know the evil behind it. I still want him. I hate myself for it.

  I swallow back a reflux of acid and open the first message.

  From: UPR Sent: 05/03/2066

  To: The Infinity Received: 06/12/2067

  Subject: For Attention of The Infinity

  Commander Silvers,

  In order to adhere to efficiency rulings, we request that the ambient temperature of The Infinity should be lowered an additional two degrees centigrade, from 23°C to 21°C, to conserve energy.

  This may cause some discomfort while your body acclimatizes, but please wear more clothing in the meantime.

  All hail the UPR! May the King live long and vigorously!

  From: The Eternity Sent: 06/12/2067

  To: The Infinity Received: 06/12/2067

  Romy,

  It was so nice talking to you yesterday. I’m looking forward to speaking to you again tonight.

  I want to hear more about the UPR. It’s really worrying me that you’re suffering when I can’t do anything to help. I hate the thought of them upsetting you. You’re stronger than you realize. I believe in you, Romy Silvers.

  J xxx

  It’s sickening. My chest aches; a dull throb like I’ve bruised it. Only a matter of hours ago, I was desperately in love with J, and now I can’t see anything but how horribly fake his messages are.

  He’s sending me these unnecessary requests from the UPR and then pretending that he’s worried about me doing them, all at the same time. He’s using the UPR to twist me up, to torment me.

  J has been lying to me the whole time that I’ve known him. He’s had me wrapped around his little finger for months. It’s obvious now.

  I can’t ignore the evidence, or what it means. He faked the UPR. He invented the war. He’s made me spend almost a year worrying and panicking and obsessing over what was happening to the people on Earth.

  He can’t have done that for any reason other than cruelty. He’s been tormenting me long distance, the only way that he can. Everything the UPR made me do – from sitting in darkness until I wet myself to living covered in grease and sweat without showering – was really because of J. He made up a complicated lie and even took over my computer so he could do those things to me.

  How could he put me through that? Why would he even want to?

  I read every email, desperate for some evidence that our connection is real, that it can’t be J doing this. A particular line from one of his recent messages jumps out at me:

  I wonder if we would have been friends, if we had been meeting in less exceptional circumstances. I hope so. I really do, neighbor.

  Something about that particular phrase sounds familiar. Meeting in less exceptional circumstances.

  I can’t place it. I think about it all afternoon. Where have I heard that before?

  Then it hits me: it’s a line from one of my fics.

  Jayden says that to Lyra, in a fic I wrote back before I ever met J.

  “You’re OK,” he said, his voice a low, calming murmur in her ear. “Relax.”

  Lyra sagged under his – very solid – chest.

  “Thanks,” she said, her voice cracking in an embarrassing way. “I’m Lyra.”

  “Jayden. It’s great to meet you, neighbour,” Jayden continued. “I just wish we were meeting in less exceptional circumstances!”

  I wrote that line. And J used it in an email to me.

  It might just be chance, but … it’s exactly the same.

  I check the date I sent the fic to Molly and run some calculations. The transmission would have crossed The Eternity’s path almost six months ago – giving J more than enough time to pick up the transmission, read it and include a quote in an email to me.

  Is that possible? Would he really do that? Even now, I’m hoping that it’s a coincidence.

  I read J’s emails again one by one, carefully analysing the words.

  I find ten more lines, taken word for word from Jayden’s dialogue in my other fics.

  Is it OK if I call you tonight at 7 p.m.? If it isn’t, just don’t answer. But I hope you do. I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long. I haven’t been able to think about anything but speaking to you. I can’t wait to hear your voice.

  “I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long,” Jayden said, nose pressed into her cheekbone. “I haven’t been able to think about anything but speaking to you.”

  I want to hear more about the UPR. It’s really worrying me that you’re suffering when I can’t do anything to help. I hate the thought of them upsetting you. You’re stronger than you realize. I believe in you, Romy Silvers.

  “You’re stronger than you realize. I believe in you, Lyra Loch.”

  Don’t you give up on me, Romy, not yet. I’m coming – just hold on a little longer. It will be easier when we’re together.

  “Lyra! Don’t you give up on me, Lyra, not yet. I need you. Just hold on a little longer.”

  I keep finding more. I can’t find an email where J hasn’t copied something from one of my fics. Not one. Even his earliest messages contain lines from fics I wrote when I was thirteen, sent to Molly long before I even knew The Eternity existed.

  He’s been using my own words against me.

  The bile rises in my throat and I run to the bathroom and vomit until my stomach is empty. Then I press my sweaty forehead against the side of the toilet seat and cry until I feel like there’s nothing left inside me but fear.

  Why? Why would he— />
  Was he pretending to be Jayden? Was he trying to make me like him by mimicking Jayden Ness?

  If he has been pretending to be Jayden this whole time then who am I even talking to? A scream bubbles up in my throat and gets trapped somewhere behind my tonsils, sharp and terrified.

  If everything I thought I knew about J is fiction (made up by me), then who is J at all? Who is he?

  Who is this person who forges messages from Earth and creates something as horrible as the war and the UPR? Why would anyone ever pretend to be a fictional character?

  Why would he spend all this time playing with me? Who am I talking to?

  He took a character that he knew I liked and adored. He posed as him. He made me like him, made me love him.

  He’s been trying to destroy me, piece by careful piece, while I romanticized every second of it.

  For the first time, the number of days until The Eternity catches up with me aren’t exciting – they’re terrifying.

  Eighty-one days.

  That’s it.

  I try to increase the speed of the ship, rerouting power to the thrusters to stretch out the time left before we meet, but The Infinity is already travelling at its maximum speed. There’s nothing I can do.

  In only a few months I’m going to have to meet whoever is on board the other ship. I’m going to have to face him, after everything he’s done to me.

  I can’t trust anything he says, not any more. I don’t even know who I’m talking to. If he’s lied to me about this, then what else?

  I have no idea what to do, no way of even beginning to make a plan. How can I stop him coming for me? How can I escape?

  I can’t.

  At seven, a shrill ringing sound comes from the computer. J’s calling. Right on schedule.

  I’m not going to answer it.

  There’s no way I can talk to him. I can’t hear his voice and pretend I don’t know what he’s doing to me. I’ll sound like a completely different person to yesterday.