by Joe Vasicek
“Huh? Oh, thanks,” he said, taking the bowl she offered. It was warm, with a strange blend of spices that gave it a distinctly foreign aroma. How she’d figured out how to make it, he didn’t know; she must have taught herself, because this was the first time she’d made any food.
She knelt by the side of his chair and watched intently as he stirred his food. He glanced down at her for a moment, then lifted up a spoonful and tried it. It tasted delicious—not at all like the bland stuff he usually ate.
“Wow,” he said, nodding in approval. “That was … really good.”
She smiled and said something under her breath—probably like ‘yes!’ or ‘excellent!’ Funny how even though they couldn’t understand each other in some ways, in others they understood each other all too well. The thought made him laugh, probably because there was no one else to hear him except her.
“You sure are better company than the stars,” he said, eating another spoonful. She cocked her head inquisitively at him, and he pointed out the forward window.
“Stars.”
“Stars,” she repeated.
“Yes, stars! Very good.”
“Very good,” she repeated. Her gaze wandered to the display screens, eyes lighting up as they fell on Delta Oriana. She pointed at it and uttered something in a questioning tone.
“That’s right,” said Jeremiah, surprised that she recognized it so quickly. “Delta Oriana, your home. Noemi’s home.”
“Noemi home.”
She pointed to the screen showing Edenia and looked at him, asking the question with her eyes.
“That’s Edenia,” said Jeremiah. “My home.”
“Jerem-ahra home?”
He nodded. “That’s right.”
She leaned forward and stared at the screen, as if to get a better look. He shifted uncomfortably, unsure what to do.
“Home,” she said, reaching up with her finger to gently touch the screen.
“Here,” said Jeremiah, toggling the main display to show a computer generated model of Delta Oriana. “Recognize this?” He zoomed onto the third planet, circling around it a few times before bringing the camera viewpoint into line with Megiddo Station.
Noemi gasped and squealed with delight. “Home!” she said. He smiled and zoomed in a little closer, revealing exterior details of the station’s gray hull.
Her face fell a little. “Not home,” she said, pointing to the hub. Jeremiah looked at it and realized that the model was missing a number of additions that had been added since the last time the database had been updated.
“No, it’s the same,” he reassured her. “The database is just a little old, that’s all.”
“Old?”
“Yes,” said Jeremiah. “Old.” She seemed to be picking up his language pretty well. Perhaps, given enough time, they could eventually learn to communicate.
“Jerem-ahra home,” said Noemi, leaning back and pointing at the holoscreen.
“No,” he said. “That’s your home. Noemi home.”
Noemi shook her head, then pointed from the screen to him and back again. “Jerem-ahra home.”
She wants me to show her my birth world, Jeremiah realized. He took in a deep breath, hesitating for a moment. It didn’t make sense to say no, but he felt almost as if she were asking him to open his journal and divulge something deeply private.
“Oh, all right,” he muttered, toggling the display. The planet and station disappeared, replaced by the orange sun of Edenia. Four concentric circles represented the orbits of the system’s planets. He zoomed into the second circle, arriving at a brownish-yellow world covered in a thick, yellow haze. Swallowing a little, he took the camera viewpoint down through the cloud cover, into the all too familiar crater. Next to him, Noemi oohed in wonder at the scene. He brought the camera just a few dozen meters above the multi-domed complex, giving a clear view of the botanical gardens down below.
Strangely, Noemi didn’t seem particularly surprised or excited by the gardens—or anything else under the domes, for that matter.
“Earth?” she asked, pointing to the gardens on the display screen as she turned and looked at him. He nodded.
“Yeah, those are from Earth,” said Jeremiah. “Some of them, at least. Want a closer look?”
She stared at him until he brought the camera down, through the glass ceiling and foliage below down to the footpath on the surface. The details were surprisingly good; the computer must have updated them from the dream monitor over the last couple of years. In fact, it was almost as if he were looking into the simulation through the window of the display screen.
Noemi pointed, and he wordlessly moved the camera down to follow the footpath. They passed through the giant redwood trunks until they arrived at the meadow.
Jeremiah stopped. He bit his lip and lifted his fingers from the keyboard, clenching his fists in indecision. Noemi sensed that something was wrong and glanced over at him.
“That’s my home,” he whispered. Looking at the main display screen, he could almost hear his sister calling from behind the trunks—
Abruptly, he shut down the program. The screen went black, replaced by the soft glow of the starfield outside. Noemi reached out to touch his arm, but he shrugged her off and rose to his feet, storming off to the bathroom for a moment of privacy. Strange, how after all these years of wandering alone, he didn’t know whether to shut her out or to let her in.
Chapter 5
“Don’t go, Jeremy. Please don’t go.”
The deep, earthy scent of the forest seeped into Jeremiah’s bones as his sister’s face turned down in a picture of longing.
“I’m sorry,” he told her, his hands shaking. “I have to go.”
“But why? Why do you have to leave?”
“Because—”
“No!” she yelled, eyes red as tears streamed down her cheeks. “You promised me you’d stay! You promised!”
The desperation in his voice cut him to the core, making his heart leap into his mouth. He opened his arms to hug her, but she turned and fled from him, running blindly through the ancient, monolithic trunks.
“Sarah—wait! Come back!”
He tried to run after her, but his legs barely moved, as if they were caught in thick mud and the gravity had suddenly jumped to twice its normal level. He strained as hard as he could to move, but to no avail.
“Sarah! Come back!”
He was trapped now, caught in the darkening shadows of the unmoving trees. Beyond the dome, the purple haze of twilight faded into blackness, as if the Edenian sun was falling out of existence. The air became cold and clammy, and the rich scent of mulch and humus turned to mold and recycled air. His vision swirled, and he felt suddenly claustrophobic, as if the trees were caving in on him, leaving him nowhere to run.
He screamed a primal scream of terror, and the trees gave way to the infinite, unblinking void of space. The stars shone cold and distant all around him, offering no warmth. Here in the endless void between worlds, he could run all his life and still never escape.
Unworthy, a voice in his head told him. Cast out of paradise, doomed to wander—
“Sarah!” he screamed.
The stars were fading now, leaving him trapped in a universe of darkness. He tried to move his arms and legs, but they were utterly unresponsive.
Unworthy.
* * * * *
Jeremiah woke in a cold sweat, his body stiff and sore from sleeping in the cockpit seat. As he moaned a little, he felt a hand on his shoulder—Noemi. He glanced up and saw her standing above him, wearing her loose yellow chemise. She looked down at him with her soft green eyes.
“Get back,” he said, pushing her away. To his surprise, she almost fell to the floor. He hadn’t intended to be so violent, but the way the room spun around him, it was as if he was fast losing his grip on reality.
The nightmares had never been this bad before. They’d come close a few months ago, but never to the point where he felt trapped in utter
darkness. Even thinking about it gave him shivers—not two standard weeks into the voyage, and already he was breaking down. This was bad—very bad.
The cold sweat on his chest and forehead made his jumpsuit cling uncomfortably to his skin. He considered getting up to splash his face—maybe when Noemi was down again. After all, he didn’t want to—
He felt a sharp tug on his sleeve. Noemi said something in a chiding tone, making him glance up at her.
“What is it?” he barked.
Noemi fidgeted as if unsure of herself, then tugged at his shoulder again, harder this time.
“What?” Jeremiah said, sitting up.
Noemi was pointing through the doorway to the cabin. From the tone of her chattering and the energetic way in which she motioned for him to follow her, Jeremiah realized that she had something serious to show him.
“All right, all right,” he said, knowing full well she couldn’t understand him. “What’s going on?”
She took his sleeve again and tugged him some more, until he rose to his feet and followed her into the cabin.
“What is it?” he asked again. “There’s nothing in here. What do you want to show me?”
She brought him over to the cot and sat him down. Unable to stay in one place, he made as if to stand up, but a stern glance and a hand against his chest kept him down. With her free hand, she reached up and pulled down the dream monitor from its compartment.
“Yes, that’s the dream monitor,” he said. “It plugs you into a simulation so you don’t have to deal with this crapsack reality. Good job.”
Noemi gave him another look and shot back with a comment that could only mean ‘shut up and plug in.’
With a heavy sigh, Jeremiah fitted the monitor over his head and plugged the jacks into the socket at the back of his neck. Noemi spent a few moments configuring the simulation via the external datapad on the helmet’s side, leaning in so that her face was inches from his own. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes—
—and found himself standing among the towering redwoods of the Edenian gardens.
He walked barefoot across the mulchy earth, breathing the clean, fresh air. How did she get into this simulation? He must have left it on after he’d used it the first day. Everything, from the scent of the forest to the texture of the deeply furrowed bark was exactly as he remembered—and yet, he couldn’t help but notice a number of subtle differences. The sun, for example, was a little brighter—no, fuller, more yellow. The branches overhead rustled a little, and a cool breeze caressed his cheek. That was odd—he didn’t ever remember feeling much of a breeze in the enclosed space of the gardens.
And that was another thing: far from driving him to madness, this place was practically soothing. He took a deep breath of the pure, clean air and felt the tension melt right out of him. Had she programmed it to do that? Was that what she wanted him to see? Even if it was unintentional, he had to admit it was profoundly calming.
Off in the distance, he heard the familiar laughter of a small girl. His muscles tensed; it was his little sister. Had Noemi uncovered even that secret part of him? Probably—but his subconscious was projecting onto the simulation as well. She would have seen only the shadow of a ghost, a trace of the memories that haunted him.
He followed the sound of the laughter, legs slowly breaking into a run. Up ahead, his sister darted out from behind a giant gnarled root, shrieking in delight as she saw him give chase. Something was different, though: she had a garland of pure white flowers in her hair, and wore a bright yellow dress that he couldn’t remember seeing before. Had Noemi tampered with this part of the simulation, too? If she had, she must have gone especially deep.
It’s some kind of message, he realized, feeling intuitively that it was true. A powerful urge to catch up to his sister overtook him, and he ran faster, his chest heaving as the sweet, clean air filled his lungs.
Sarah turned abruptly and dashed out into the open meadow by the edge of the glass. He followed her, and realized that the dome was gone. A small stone fence traced a path where it used to be, but beyond it the meadow extended all the way to the edge of the crater. On the rim high above, the craggy rocks jutted out from the undergrowth, covered in moss and lichen.
Jeremiah slowed to a walk and marveled at the sight. It was so beautiful—so full of life. White puffy clouds drifted across the pure blue sky, while birds chirped in the distance. A gust sent shimmering waves running across the verdant grass, while clumps of little blue and purple flowers danced in the gentle breeze. It was beautiful—more beautiful than anything he’d ever seen.
His sister stopped and turned to face him. Her eyes shone bright and innocent, but the expression on her face wasn’t one of pleading or desperation. Instead, she seemed much more serene, like a goddess—ten years old and yet a thousand at the same time.
“Sarah,” he said, running breathlessly up to her. “You’re—you’re here.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry,” he stammered, a lump rising in his throat. “I didn’t mean to leave you—not like that. I should have—”
“No,” she said softly, reaching up to touch his arm. “I’m sorry for not letting you go. We all have to say goodbye sometime.”
Jeremiah’s lip began to quiver, and he drew in a shaky breath as tears burned in his eyes. The simulation felt so real, it couldn’t be just a message; it was something much greater, something he barely understood.
“Do you forgive me?” he whispered.
Sarah smiled. “Of course.”
They embraced. As he held his sister close, Jeremiah felt a new warmth spread through him; one of sadness bittersweet, but also of hope and joy.
“You know she needs you,” Sarah said.
“Who?”
She stepped back and pointed off to the right. He turned and saw Noemi in a pure white dress, standing in a patch of light blue flowers. Her light brown hair danced in the breeze, and as her deep green eyes met his own, his heart skipped a beat.
How did she get in here? he wondered—then, remembering that that was impossible, how did she program herself into the simulation? Even a simple image of a familiar face would have been almost impossible to construct so realistically—yet here in the dream world, she seemed as real to him as she ever had.
It’s because my subconscious is projecting her, he realized with a start. She’s here because my dream would be incomplete without her.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Sarah asked, the familiar laughter rising in her voice.
“I—”
“Go on!”
Jeremiah took a hesitant step forward, wondering what he should say. Noemi gave him a coy smile, and his cheeks burned with shyness. He felt as if he were fourteen again, new to the feelings and desires that had started to consume him. This is ridiculous, he thought to himself. She isn’t even real.
But he knew where to find her.
He turned to face his sister. Their eyes met, and the still-fresh emotions rose once again in his heart.
“Goodbye,” he said.
She smiled a kind, forgiving smile. “Goodbye.”
He lingered only a moment before jacking out.
* * * * *
Noemi—the real Noemi—watched intently as Jeremiah lifted the dream monitor from his head and slipped it into the compartment in the ceiling. She sat cross legged at the end of the cot, facing him with an anxious expression on her face. He smiled to set her at ease.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
She looked at him expectantly, her whole body tense with anticipation. He felt a sudden urge to hold her, to feel her lips against his and know that he wasn’t alone.
Slowly, tentatively, he reached up with his hand and began to stroke her cheek. She smiled and leaned in, as if to encourage him. “Noemi,” he said softly—and then, remembering that she couldn’t understand his language, gently pulled her towards him. For a moment, their hearts stopped, the tension between them almost elect
ric—and then they were in each others arms, lips pressed together, their pent-up feelings released in a sudden flood of passion.
As his hands gravitated to her waist, she pulled down the zipper of his jumpsuit and slowly unclasped the belt around his waist. Though his heart pounded in his chest, he made no move to resist her.
You can’t follow through without making a commitment, he realized with some trepidation. She’ll be yours—your responsibility, your burden.
She pulled his jumpsuit down off of his bare shoulders, then reached down and pulled her chemise over her head, letting it fall to the floor. In her eyes, he saw a trace of the nervous anxiety that had possessed her the first night, but there was also the same trust as before—as well as a hunger that reflected his own.
Will this work? You don’t even speak the same language!
No, he told himself, but we can learn. We’ll make it work.
The feel of her body against his filled him with a warm vitality, gradually dispelling the long years of loneliness. His chest rose with hers, and her breath fell into sync with his own, giving him a sense of oneness with her. She gazed down at him and smiled, and he knew she felt the same way. They kissed again, tenderly this time, and he knew that he would no longer wander the stars alone.
Part II: Fidelity
Chapter 6
The stars shone noticeably dimmer as Jeremiah negotiated the final approach to Oriana Station. Outside the cockpit window, the gas giant Madrigalna loomed large in the sky, its wide bands of white and yellow clouds churning with blood-red storms. Next to the enormous planet, the twin wheels of Oriana Station seemed pitifully small, even this far up the gravity well. After a three month voyage, though, any sign of human habitation stood out like a beacon in the starry deep.
“Ariadne, this is station control,” came the voice of the docking operator over the radio. “We are having difficulty finding a docking vector for your ship. Please maintain your current orbit and await further directions.”