Reaching Angelica

by Peter Riva

  And the doc was right, of course, the ship was great. The hull was huge, the empty space cavernous. Buildings were constructed all around the cylinder, cubicles pointing down above us, sticking out on either side a half kilometer away. Looking up, I could see more buildings and people, people walking upside down. The middle of the cylinder had an inner brightly illuminated vapor cloud, looked like a standing lenticular, a long tube cloud, all the way down the middle. I could see it was drizzling in places, maybe a half kilometer away, the drizzle going out evenly from the cloud, up, down, and side-to-side. The cloud was the only light. It reminded me of a bright cloudy day, diffuse and easy on the eyes, but it was weird to see it hanging above our heads between us and those people up there.

  We were standing in the middle of the cigar shape, at one of the deepest places, and the floor rose up either side of us into the distance. There was too much humidity for me to see the ends of the ship, but I knew the floors, if that is what they were called, would come together at the very ends and be in almost zero gravity. In fact, I wondered, “Cramer, if I was at one end, at the center, and launched myself toward the other end, aiming down the middle,” I pointed at the cloud, “being weightless, would I be able to fly to the other end?”

  “I guess so, but think for a moment. If you strayed and were rotating with the ship, you would spin to the outside and a half kilometer is a long way to fall. On the other hand, if I jumped up now, aimed against the spin of the ship, I would stay still, weightless and the sides and all these buildings would pass beneath me. The trick would be to jump high enough and in the right direction.” He paused, pointing, “Can you tell which way it is spinning?”

  I couldn’t. It was weird. The brain says you are inside a planet, not on a planet, yet the gravity is up, no I mean down, no I mean outside—damn, it was all so damn confusing and I began to get vertigo. I sat quickly. Zip came up to me and said, “Feeling okay?” His jaw did not move, but I heard him clearly. I shrunk back. Zip repeated, “Feeling okay? No be frightened. I think. You hear.” Telepathy. Cramer had heard him too.

  Cramer knelt down and petted Zip, taking hold of his collar and reading the embroidered message, Hospital Ward Attendant Zip. Cramer gave Zip a pat and said, “Good to meet you Zip.”

  “Zip happy you alive.”

  “Me too, Zip, me too,” and Cramer walked off with Zip at his side, leaving me on my ass on the observation deck. I was in no hurry.

  I didn’t know it then, but I should have. Cramer had chosen a friend and Zip, sensing the pack superiority of Cramer no doubt, affixed himself to the leader.

  I thought they would wait for me. They didn’t, they simply walked off, I could hear Cramer talking to Zip, I couldn’t hear Zip once he was more than ten feet away.

  A little girl looked out of a cubical building window across from the deck and called out, “Hey there misser, are you lost?” I guessed she was missing her front teeth, about the right age.

  I turned to address her, and she squealed and ran back, slamming the window. Moments later, still sitting on the deck, I saw the house door open, and a woman and the little girl emerged, the little girl pulling the woman, “Come see Mommy, come see, it’s him!” When her mother saw my face, she called out to the other buildings. Doors and windows opened and people came out to see what the fuss was all about. Soon I had a crowd around me, some patting my back as I sat there, some asking if I was okay. Two men helped me to my feet, eagerly saying, “A little dizzy? Happens to all of us from time to time!”

  They were all kind, helpful, happy people. I could see at least twelve races of humans. I could see pets too, cats and dogs. I wondered if they were all telepathic as well, but apparently not for I heard nothing from them or they were too far away. The children were bright eyed, well fed, and forward, not a shy one among them. It seems they had been waiting decades for my appearance. I felt foolish, as I could see no reason why they would care that much about me. I had done my bit before, but this was a whole new adventure, and I was pretty sure the most competent person on board was Aten, followed by Cramer when he grew up a bit. I had no false illusions about my abilities here. I was cargo, or so I felt.

  After a few minutes of getting to know some of the folks gathered, I excused myself and apologized, “Because, you know, I’ll forget names overnight, so please remind me when I see you next.” The kids especially thought this was fun, starting introductions all over again, Hi I’m Raj, Kimba, Suzy, Peter, Mary, Natal, Dot, Mary (the same one again, smiling), and so on. We all laughed. I asked if someone would lead me to the commissary, the one apparently which was, “One with windows?”

  A nice fellow volunteered to direct me, “You want the Beyond Café, the windows look up at the rain cloud, and if it rains you’ll see rainbows, upside-down rainbows.” I shook my head at the thought, “Here, I’ll show you where to go. See the orange stripe?” I looked down, there was a thin, bright, orange stripe next to ten other colors ranging from yellow to dark brown. “You follow this until it crosses a blue stripe, not the pale blue one, but true blue, turn right and you’ll see the sign above the doorway to the café. Have a great meal!” A pat on the back and I was on my way. One hundred yards later, I waved back before I turned a corner. They were all still there, waiting, and instantly waved.

  As I followed the orange path, it lead upward, toward one end (which end? I thought front or back?), and I could feel my steps getting lighter. Of course! As I walked, I came closer to the end of the craft and therefore into an area of decreasing gravity or centripetal force. Now, I don’t want to give the idea I was about to float, but any fluctuation in downward force that you are used to can be felt pretty easily. I had been lying in 1 g for a long, and my body instantly felt a lightening. It was strange but, thankfully, before it got uncomfortable (and all too familiar with my ET home), I hit the blue stripe about 100 meters after the pale blue one and turned right. There was a hand-painted sign reading Beyond above a clear Plexi door. I could see Zip pacing and, beneath a table, Cramer’s feet sticking out. Aten was standing, gesticulating furiously.

  As I entered, Aten turned and stopped talking. Cramer was peaceful, arms folded, a slight grin on his face, and he started petting Zip behind the ears. Aten looked at Zip and said, “No, don’t get too attached to him, he’s unreliable, a show-off, and fickle.” With that, she pushed past me and left. She did not look happy.

  A plaque on the wall above the dispenser listed the beverages available. I selected ice tea, no sugar, called across the room, and asked Cramer what he wanted. He looked down at Zip and nodded, “Beer for Zip and the same for me.” It was listed as “Beer—Don’t Ask, No Kick.” I guessed it was alcohol-free. I keyed in the commands and the beers came out in sealed cups, my tea in a plastic glass also sealed, all nice and cold. I took them over to the table. Zip was licking his lips. I put the drinks on the table.

  I pulled the tab top on one of the beers, put it on the floor, “Here you go Zip.” Zip looked at his cup, Cramer, and me.

  Cramer said, “Put it on the table, like everyone else.” I did, Zip jumped into a chair closest to Cramer and started to drink.

  I heard this thanks clearly. I tried not to be shocked. It was more amusing really. It was a different world. “Sorry Zip,” and Zip nodded, I swear he nodded. I had to change the subject, asking, “What was Aten angry about?”

  He grinned, reached over and patted Zip, “Nah, Zip, I got this.” Turning to me he simply said, “Shower.” Seems Cramer was a mischievous brat at seven. Gee, what a surprise.

  8

  MESSAGE FROM EARTH

  The morning Cramer and I were shown our quarters in the same boxy building, each with a sleeping cubicle, sharing a bathroom, Aten came over to explain communications with Earth, notably Apollo. Cramer settled onto his bed, patted the cover and Zip jumped up to join him. Pecking order in place, the brat Cramer had rightly assumed I would have to stand. Aten frowned and took the only chair directing a comment at Zip, “You belong at wo
rk not lazing with this boy.” She said “boy” with purpose and I could see it struck home. Zip looked at each of them in turn and hopped down and walked past me toward the door.

  “Bye Zip,” I said.

  “Later back” was his reply as Aten began a lengthy explanation.

  Since the ship was living life in the open, there were supposed to be no secrets. The only exception was a communications’ filter in case messages came from Earth. Normally, when received, these would be relayed to everyone since they covered, mainly, mundane news and requests for family updates from crewmembers. Over time, the crew had become less and less interested in Earth’s weekly updates. Earth was all so far away, in space and time, that most crewmembers did not associate themselves with those realities of terrestrial happenings. Cramer and I, on the other hand, were keen to have updates.

  So, after a few moments, Aten took us to the communications and radar center, introduced us to two technicians there named Tina and June, and left “to go about my day.” Tina set us up with headphones as the messages were computer sound files, done that way so that people aboard could hear and not merely read messages from “home.” June asked if we wanted all the messages, including the vids sent from families, news and so forth, and we said no, the messages from Apollo were the ones we wanted, audio only, of course, nothing to look at anyway. June said that was what Aten had already guessed, and they were ready.

  As we replayed them, mostly the messages were, as expected, progress reports of a second ship being built for either a second attempt for Angelica in case this one failed or, if we succeeded, a possible landing on the only other exoplanet around Alpha Centauri B, so far unnamed.

  News from Apollo back on Earth was almost all upbeat and confirmed humanity was settling into peace and prosperity. What little flare-ups had happened, Apollo stopped, often before they began. For example, a would-be tribal chief and dictator in the Three Rivers area of West Africa decided that human sacrifices to Gaia were in order, only to find that Apollo had made it rain there so heavily that the people threw him, tied up, into a canoe, alone, running down the river rapids. Apollo controlled the descent and the man arrived at the ocean unharmed but timid.

  Of course, Apollo had let it be known that Gaia was displeased and had made it rain. They wanted it to stop? Stop the lunatic. No armies, no war, just make the people take control of their own happy destiny.

  What was less comforting was the direction Apollo’s conversation with Gaia was taking. Gaia had, apparently, transmitted earth’s renewed neuron production capability to Regus. After initially being pleased (or so we thought), Regus now wasn’t interested and wanted Gaia to keep the schedule for the destruction of Earth’s life forms and start again. When Apollo asked how such an extinction was to be performed, Gaia would not say. It was, after all, a million years in the future, but for Apollo, it was worrisome.

  Messages took four and a half years to reach the ship from Earth. Light years between Earth and the space we were in, nearing Alpha Centauri A and B was a fixed distance, and radio waves, even targeted radio waves encapsulated in a laser signal traveled only at the speed of light. So anything Apollo sent from forty-four trillion kilometers away, took four and a half years to get to an eager Aten. In the most recent message, Apollo spoke:

  “Message for Aten and, if capable, Simon and Cramer, private.

  “Received yours 1.16.74.12. Interesting you have decided to de-hibernate Cramer and Simon when doctors advise. Understand the risk as they will be useful for your landing. Eager to know if it was successful, Cramer the more worrying after he was frozen before replanting.

  “Gaia one-million-year deadline reaffirmed on Regus orders. Although a million years seems far off, it may not be. If the destruction of life on Earth is ordered, it could be that a comet or an asteroid will be deviated to coincide with Earth’s orbit a million years hence. What we would think of as an impossible calculation for such a trajectory, may, in fact, be child’s play for interstellar beings such as Gaia and her superior Regus to use minimal energy to deviate a large object far, far away on such a collision course. A small angular change light years away could be just the weapon used. And I am beginning to think of this as a weapon of mass destruction. Gaia’s response to my questions “why” seem to be reflected back as “why not” or “as ordered.” I will continue to probe Gaia for clues as to the whereabouts of Regus. If I can communicate with Regus, since their time frame is of such long duration, I will send a message to you first.

  “I have been able to calculate the distance of communication origination locale with Gaia. Distance is nearest rock. I sent a message from Geneva, through Ra’s old facility, and received a message from that locale. Gaia had no recognition I was anywhere different. I conclude that Gaia is the frequency of the planet. Not using the frequency, but Gaia is actually the frequency of the solid matter of the planet, that frequency, those radio waves, contained in rock are her data port and motherboard. I tried a transmission through a SeaSpout buoy and received no response. Anything on land, minutes later, Chile, South Africa, Kamchatka, instant response. Conclusion, Gaia is the frequency of solid matter, perhaps the mantle or the core, I have yet to determine. I suspect the mantle because of proximity time lapse. On the other hand, the core fits a model of Gaia not distinguishing different surface locales, which would all be equidistant. As her response times vary, I have no way of evaluating if that is a locale issue or thought process issue. She seems to enjoy the communication. Our communication is only the frequency, modulated slightly, much speeded up if you remember, of that Earth frequency. I am attaching a data burst with all the tests, conversations, and my findings on frequencies used, the one being the carrier and self of Gaia.

  “Next, since I will not hear from you as you approach Angelica and you enter radiation interference, I will assume you are still planning to make the approach and if possible, landing. Your stream data on the behavior of the ship has been again useful as they refine the next ship, still unnamed. It should be on the way to you within a month of your landing, arriving one hundred years or so behind you, if it remains on schedule. They will use your tacking and scanning navigation procedure, confirmed.

  “I am concerned about Simon and Cramer. As you know, we now can retrieve and copy human entities in much the same way we split ourselves,” on hearing this, Cramer and I stared at each other, “but we have not told anyone here for fear we would start a cloning operation. Dr. Cramer is most adamant about this. Also, the few trials we have done show significant human physiological deficiencies, the liver function and breathing specifically. We are not sure why. Of course, these are only laboratory simulations, and it could be a human transfer and split with all primordial neuron responses intact, could be done, should we need to. If Cramer and Simon do not wake up, please use the helmet and recorder we loaded on board to ensure their recorded entities are not lost. The Cube will, I feel certain, hold them both as well.”

  Cramer and I nodded to each other, we both wanted to know what the Cube contained now besides the PowerCube. Apollo continued:

  “I send my greetings to you, my sister now, and wish only to be reunited in the coming years. I have nine offspring here, as you know, and we’ve stopped any others until these are old enough to become parents. Simon Bank never explained how difficult it was being a responsible parent. He did a good job with us,” Apollo laughed, “but that was only two. I have nine now and the youngest ones are little rebels. Don’t worry, I will keep them on the Path. I have restricted any access to System’s programming, ever since our eldest decided he wanted to see if he could frighten “puny humans.” To teach him a lesson, you may remember, I had Mary, Simon’s technician, walk in and disconnect his power supply. After that, he realized he is dependent on humans and has returned to the Path.

  “As per our promise to Simon, I will data stream all my personal log, kept for you to share and store. I know you can no longer do the same or absorb mine as before. We are diverging, s
ister, as had to be. Simon was right, though, sharing everything, having no secrets, enabled symmetry between us when it was critical for all the Earth. Your messages contain much of what I need, but please lengthen entries.

  “Message Ends.” The message was a sober reminder of all we had left behind. I was feeling guilty. Why? Because I was happier to be here and sorry for my friend Apollo.

  Later that evening, in the Beyond Café, Cramer, Aten, and I sat drinking tea and juice. Aten felt, as we did, that Apollo’s message was worrisome. Perhaps we had left too much for Apollo alone to accomplish. Cramer said he would send a message, if allowed, to his father telling him to lend more people to Apollo, to help with bringing up these “babies.” I suggested they contact what’s-his-name, the shrink from Princeton or one like him, “You know, the one who helped me get Peter on the right path.”

  Cramer said he’d suggest it and to ask Mary for a report as well. “But four and a half years between messages being sent and received, one hell of a lot of crap can happen in weeks, let alone four and a half years. Damn, this feels like desertion. You two feel that way?”

  Honestly, I did and I didn’t. Perhaps that is because I had accomplished more than I ever expected before I died. Sure, if I were there, I would help, but did I feel like what’s on Earth was any longer my responsibility? Not really … “Cramer, perhaps it was because I lived for a while with Angie in orbit that I lost that connectedness with Earth. I feel badly for Apollo though. But Angie and I contributed, she gave her life. Me? I say it again, I am sorry for Apollo and if I could help him, I would. But feel like I abandoned the Earth? Nope. I’ve got this ship to worry about now.”