“If we do not bring him into the station, he will die,” said Sophia flatly. “Our indicators show that he has lost consciousness and the oxygen remaining in his ship will not last much longer.”
“But if we allow him into the station, we will break the cardinal rule of Samian law for the first time ever.”
“So we should just let him die then?”
“Sophia,” Thales tried to approach her in a conciliatory tone, “there is no doubt that his motives are hostile. Let's look at the facts here. We did not receive any alerts from Samos about the visit. He arrived in a Pythagorean ship, which he obtained through unknown means. The only explanation I can conjure up is that the ship is stolen! How could he have reached Samos if he did not know its location? It’s very likely that this information fell into his hands illicitly. In my opinion, we should not let him in. Best case scenario, he's not a threat. Worst case scenario, he is a pirate or a Gnostic in a ploy to infiltrate Samos.”
“I cannot let him die!” said Sophia determinedly.
“Never has a stranger set foot in Samos!” This time he was more forceful.
“Never has the master of the ship been required to decide if it is better to allow a stranger to be buried in his ship and drift forever in space inside his lost vessel.”
Thales was silent.
“I want you to moor him at the dock yourself, and afterwards take him to the infirmary.”
Thales knew the discussion was over. He did all in his power to stave off a fatal mistake, but the decision had been made and now it was his job to carry it out.
“Yes, Station Master.” He dug himself out of the couch's deep comfort and turned toward the surface sphere.
“What is his medical condition?” Sophia asked Janis, the doctor.
“We got to him in time. He has not suffered damage from oxygen deprivation and, to be frank, I cannot understand why he has not yet regained consciousness,” replied the doctor.
“How much time will that take?”
“He may wake up in the next few hours or he may remain in this state forever. Though we understand the holographic structure of the universe, we have yet to fully delve into the recesses of the human mind.”
She squeezed the strangers hand gently in hopes of receiving some sort of sign.
“I am Sophia,” she whispered.
“I am Sophia,” she repeated five more times, slowly and patiently, but to no response.
“Signal to me by nodding your head,” she asked in vain.
“Squeeze my hand,” she continued a number of times, again in vain.
“Who is he?” asked Janis curiously.
“We can only know that once he wakes,” said Sophia as she stood up and walked away before Janis had a chance to challenge her with additional questions.
The rounded walls of the corridors gave off soft, warm shades of brown and yellow light. The edge of the hall was lit more brightly and led through an arched opening to the infirmary. Doctor Janis, brow furrowed with wrinkles of age and worry, sat at the head of the stranger's bed.
“How is he doing?” The stranger heard a woman's voice inquire through the mists that covered his consciousness. He did not know it, but this woman had been visiting him in the infirmary every single day for the past week.
“No change,” replied Janis.
“No response?”
“No clear response. He sometimes nods his head but not consistently.”
“Open your eyes,” she told the stranger.
He did not respond.
She repeated the sentence, as had become her habit every day for the past week, but to no avail.
“Squeeze my hand,” she tried a different approach. On the fifth time, she felt something. Euphoria rushed over her.
“Squeeze my hand again,” she requested.
After a few long seconds, he squeezed her hand again.
He had begun to wake up. His eyes were still shut. He felt a sense of warmth enveloping him in nearly perfect comfort, save for an irritating tingling in his left hand. He slowly lifted his heavy eyelids. He found himself in a small room with rounded walls that was hardly bigger than the bed he was laying in. In addition to the bed, the room contained a chair and transparent display. The bed and walls were in shades of white, blue and pink, softly lit in a way that made him think of being inside a large shell. The opening in one of the walls seemed to lead to a hallway in shades of brown and yellow.
He tried to move his body and immediately identified the source of the irritating tingle. A small monitoring device that was attached to his left hand softly chimed at that moment. A man with silvery hair and a light brown robe stood at his side, examining the data on the display. A silhouette blocked the light coming from the opening. He identified a woman in a blue gown, and when she approached he saw her eyes: blue like deep, clear lakes. Her hair was brown, her face round and beautiful and her expression was kindhearted. He suddenly felt an intense dryness in his mouth and throat.
“I'm thirsty,” he muttered.
'He speaks Interstellar,' she thought. 'That means he is a member of one of the enlightened cultures, but his accent is not Pythagorean. Was Thales correct in thinking that he is a pirate?' She brought close to his mouth a small tube inside a small container which slowly dispensed a sweet liquid, delicious and foreign. He sat up slightly in the bed and cleared his throat. “Where am I?”
The woman smiled and helped him sit upright. “You are in the Samos Space Station. This is Janis, the station's doctor, and I am Sophia, the station master. Who are you?” He looked at her curiously.
When he tried to respond, it became clear to him that he had no answer. He could not remember a single thing. Neither his name nor the place he came from. A vast expanse of emptiness remained where his memories used to be. He was silent.
“Who are you?” she repeated her question.
Finally, he answered, “I do not know.”
He felt a painful pressure in his head. He looked around for hints of memories that may aid him in recalling his identity. Nothing.
She noticed his scared expression. 'He does not look like a pirate to me,' she wondered, 'but who knows?' He squeezed her hand again, as if she could anchor him to reality and prevent him from falling into the abyss of unconsciousness.
Sophia continued in a soft, calming voice. “You arrived here in a Pythagorean space ship. Did you come from Octavia?”
He straightened his back and shrugged his shoulders. The place that she mentioned was unfamiliar to him.
“Do you remember anything, perhaps a sound or a color? Does my name, Sophia, or the station's name, Samos, mean anything to you? Did you plan on coming here?”
He shrugged his shoulders and the corners of his mouth contorted in despair. Her questions did not bring back any memories. Sophia decided to let him be for the time being and hoped that he would soon be able to answer her questions.
“Perhaps it is better to provide him with information rather than trying to extract information from him?” she asked the doctor. “Would that help him remember?”
“We could try.”
“I will tell you about us and maybe that will help jog your memory.”
He nodded.
“Samos is a research station in the part of space belonging to the Pythagorean Brotherhood.”
“Pythagoreans?”
“Yes. Have you heard of us?”
“I... I don't remember. Please, continue.”
“We found you in a single-person ship coasting outside the spheres of our space station. The ship was sending out distress signals, so I sent scouts to see what happened. They brought you here, to the residential sphere, unconscious.”
“How long have I been here?”
“A week.”
“What happened to me?”
“We don't know for sure. We found no problems in the ship's oxygen supply and the temperature and pressure gauges were both normal. No organic problems were found during the physical scan
. According to the flight log, you were alert enough to be able to operate the manual navigation up until a number of hours before you entered the range of our transmission receptivity. It is unclear what caused you to lose consciousness.”
“It appears like you are suffering from temporary amnesia,” said the doctor.
“You said that you dispatched scouts. Are you the commander of this station?”
Sophia smiled again. “I am the master of the station. You could say that I am the commander but military terminology is foreign to us. I am the head scientist who manages this station. We don't have commanders and subordinates here—we have leaders and scientists who have all taken the Pythagorean oath of monasticism. The rest of Samos' inhabitants are mainly engineers, technicians and free Pythagoreans, some of whom also raise families.”
He leaned back and tried to make order of the things she had just told him. She waited patiently by his side.
“Did you find anything in my flight log that indicated my destination? My origin? My name?”
“Your ship's computer wiped out all records of your previous flight logs. That's why we have no idea where you came from and what your destination was. But don't exert yourself now. You must rest.”
“I don't want to rest!” he exclaimed angrily and shot upwards. “I have rested enough. I want to understand who I am and what is going on here!”
Sophia laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Unconsciousness hardly constitutes rest. Try to sleep, to dream. I will try to be here when you awake, and then we will try to understand together what happened. Don't worry. You are safer here than anywhere else in the world. And now, you must rest.” She uttered a vocal command and a complex and strange harmony began to play softly throughout the rounded room, gently echoing toward him from the walls. He closed his eyes and sunk deeply into the music, his body becoming ever calmer until he was asleep. When she left, the doctor sat in the bedside chair and continued examining the display. He understood that the stranger had not come to Samos with a permit, but he knew Sophia and trusted her judgment.
Thales steered the submarine through the depths of the Earth’s Indian Ocean. They passed beneath the shadow of a giant manta ray, between crimson coral reefs and over the mouths of dark caverns. Despite his anger about her decision to break the taboo and allow a stranger into Samos, he did not pass up the opportunity to watch her marvel at the beauty of the ocean.
“Who is the man?” asked Thales.
“Good question. He himself does not know.”
“How is that possible?”
“Amnesia. Janis says that sometimes, people suffer from temporary memory loss during space expeditions. It's likely that he is not used to space travel. There are some people who become overpowered by the infinite abyss surrounding them. What is that blue cove on the left?”
“That is exactly where I wanted to take you.” Thales veered the submarine to the left and down a dark shaft, lit only by the submarine's headlights. “So, where do you suppose he came from?”
“He's not from Octavia—they would have informed us. He doesn't look disheveled like the inhabitants of Earth and he speaks Interstellar, so I figure he came from one of the colonies.”
Thales was silent for a moment to marvel at a silvery flash of sardines that caressed the submarine in a circulatory motion and continued forward. “I scanned the ship. I did not find a single object, garment or instrument that would enable us to identify him. Strange, no?”
“What are you implying?” she asked.
“It's weird. He doesn't remember who he is at all and there is not even one identifiable object on his ship. And as if that were not enough, he was flying a stolen vessel. Sophia,” Thales tried to formulate his words delicately, “everything here points to the notion that he is highly suspect. It's likely that he is a pirate out to steal our particle processor, a Gnostic spy or someone else that I cannot identify. But it is clear that his intentions are not pure.”
“I believe that his amnesia is real and so does Janis. Taking this into account, though, I agree with you that the lack of identifiable objects is noteworthy, but could also be attributed to less sinister reasons. Perhaps he was forced to flee because of his identity and it's possible that Samos was not even his intended destination.”
“Sophia,” Thales made an effort to respond quietly, “You know just as well as I that it is impossible to get here by accident. We are not on any of the interplanetary routes between the colonized planets; Samos' location is kept completely and absolutely secret; and what's more, our station continually emits jamming signals that keep us covered by interfering with all types of detection technology in existence.”
Thales was right about the facts, but she interpreted the situation differently. “His motives are not sinister,” Sophia stated assertively. “The ways of the cosmos are mysterious. We do not know why he was sent to us, with or without his knowledge. For nothing happens without a reason and we must therefore regard him as a messenger.”
Thales hesitated and considered whether he should express what was on his mind. A Pythagorean was supposed to have faith in the cosmic order and see the positive aspect in everything. He decided to say it. “As the chief scout responsible for the station's security, I must say something.”
“Speak!”
“I have said it before. What if he is only pretending to suffer from amnesia but is really a Gnostic sent here to spy on our technological secrets, to learn about the particle processor?”
Sophia shot him an admonishing look.
“Even the infirmary found no organic signs of amnesia,” he tried to argue.
“Space amnesia leaves no physiological symptoms like an injury would. The medical examination revealed scars here and there but no ritual scars nor any Gnostic tattoos or the like. I believe that he is not a Gnostic and that he comes in peace.”
“But what if he is an agent who is not a Gnostic himself but was sent by the Gnostics?”
“As chief scout, your function is to care for the welfare of the station, but I do not see any danger in a man who cannot even remember who he is,” she said indulgently.
When he understood that he was not going to influence her opinion, Thales decided to quit arguing, though he was still extremely distraught. 'This stranger is dangerous for us,' he said to himself.
The shaft opened into an enormous empty chamber whose rounded walls were trimmed with hexagonal crystal formations.
“It's very beautiful here, but why the sly grin?”
“Are you ready?”
“What are you up to now, Thales?”
Thales turned off the submarine's headlights and Sophia caught her breath. Only in the complete darkness could she see that they were surrounded by tiny luminescent creatures that looked like phosphorescent cloudbursts; larger creatures that sparkled like stars; and even larger creatures that painted the expanse with streaks of blue and green light in the shapes of spirals, discs, chains and balls of yarn. The squids and jellyfish, like the other luminescent creatures, moved about them in a cadence of contraction and expansion.
“Thank you, Thales,” she gasped in awe. “Even after the volcanic lakes of Sirius, you continue to stun me every time anew.”
The beaming Thales was likewise enchanted by the sight as seen through Sophia's eyes. “Yes, it is truly amazing.” He hesitated again and finally decided to say, “Maybe it would be beneficial to connect the stranger to the simulator. Then we could see glimpses of his consciousness and understand who he is and where he came from.”
“In his state, the simulator could create a reality that comes from his imagination and then afterwards record this imagination in his consciousness as if he were remembering reality. The simulator could blur his understanding of fantasy and reality. As you know, the simulator can be very dangerous. If he is not used to the simulated state, he may experience memories and fantasies as if they were real, and become confused to a degree that may threaten his very life. We will use the simulat
or only if there is an urgent need for it. In the meantime, there is no such need. You worry too much, Thales.”
He sat awkwardly in silence.
“Never mind.” She smiled and he told himself that it would be worth it to err over and over again in order to merit her forgiveness. She was not afraid of the stranger, though she was well aware of breaking taboo by deciding to allow him into the station. Not only that, she could not refute the logic that gave credence to Thales' fears. She found it difficult to explain even to herself why she was so sure of her decision.
Her workday was about to end. After supervising the dozens of scientists, technicians and scouts of the station and having devoted some time to Thales, Sophia set off on her final task of the day: the daily calibration of the station. Only after that would she be free to conduct the nightly introspection ceremony.
With her fingers, she traced a few quick lines on the display, a wavering line, another point planted with the tap of her finger and then a pause for a few seconds. Transparent balls in shades of pink, orange, mustard and turquoise appeared on the screen, swirling into each other. In the Academy of the Pythagorean Brotherhood, the students were taught how to operate highly complex technological systems by attuning themselves to the aesthetics of sound, color and shape. For Sophia, musical melody was far clearer than any computerized output. When she was five years old, she played with the sound processor for the first time. She had to adjust the note on the computer's display to match what she heard, within one tenth of a tonal degree. Many instruments could have easily performed this task, but the Pythagoreans viewed the exact adjustment of sound to tone, or shade of color to each spiritual ceremony, as a sort of expression of the harmony between man and nature by means of his senses and thoughts.
The space station was comprised of round spheres moving in rotating motions inside of each other. Sophia's skill enabled her to listen to the music of each sphere and thereby identify the speed and angle of the revolutions. She controlled the sliders on the display and calibrated each sphere to its optimal speed and angle, as if she were plucking a harp string. Ever since she completed her training, she did not stop delighting in her mastery, her extraordinary precision, and she felt this rush each time she calibrated the station anew.
Mesopotamia - The Redeemer Page 5