Voyage to Alpha Centauri: A Novel

by Michael D. O'Brien

  “This is ridiculous”, Elf mumbled. “Doctor, I think you’ve been overstraining your imagination. Dr. McKie has infected you with his fantasies.”

  “Dr. Larson, how do you explain the fact that no one outside of Dr. McKie and myself have ever discussed Dr. McKie’s thoughts on the matter? Yet this evening you seem to be very certain he is the cause of the trouble.”

  Stron was clearly enjoying the exchange, grinning, nodding in affirmation of my points, but he held himself back from interfering. Elf looked somewhat flustered, caught red-handed, but he covered it deftly. The hundred or so people around us were listening with close attention, their eyes flicking back and forth between us.

  “You’re quite mistaken”, Elf said. “Dr. McKie’s wild opinions are common knowledge. A number of people have mentioned it to me.”

  “How many?” I asked.

  “It doesn’t matter how many. My point is, it’s common knowledge that he has some harebrained theories and expounds on them to anyone who’ll listen.”

  “That’s getting personal”, said Stron with a wicked smile.

  Elf nodded summarily, as if he had rested his case.

  “Gentlemen,” I said with an uplifting air, glancing at my co-conspirators and the surprise co-defenders too. “We’ve had a lot of excitement tonight. I’d like you all to be my guests at supper. Would anyone object to Chinese food?”

  “I would”, said Xue.

  None of the others took him seriously, so it was agreed that we would all go downstairs to the Asian restaurant on deck B.

  I turned to Elf and Skinner. The director of DSI had not yet said a word, but he was boring holes in my skull with his eyes.

  “Won’t you join us for supper?” I asked (with relative sincerity). “It might defuse the situation. I’m sure we can sort this whole thing out tomorrow. For now, maybe we should just shake off the tension and enjoy ourselves.”

  “No thank you”, said Elf. Skinner merely tightened his lips.

  With cold looks, they turned on their heels and strode away along the concourse. Me and my band of merry men, ten of us, went off in the other direction.

  We gathered around a long table in the restaurant, replaying the night’s proceedings and speculating about what would be the outcome. The mood was elevated, the banter perfect for shaking off tension. I noticed that people seated at nearby tables kept looking at us. Some may have been in the audience; others may have watched the whole thing on their maxes and experienced the disturbing sensation of sudden revulsion for their closest electronic friend. Did they see us as bearers of unwelcome news, the messengers who should be shot, I wondered, or had the message hit home?

  Xue leaned over to me from across the table and said, “Dariush asked me to send you his apologies. He wanted to attend your lecture, but he’s in bed with a bad virus.”

  “Poor man, I’ll go see him tomorrow.”

  “He said he would watch it on the max. I’m not sure if he saw the shenanigans at the end. They may have cut transmission at that point.”

  The waiters were loading platters of steaming food onto the table when a finger tapped my shoulder. I looked up. It was Dwayne. “Enjoy your book?” I asked.

  “It wasn’t a book. Sorry about the audio volume.”

  “You did that?”

  “Yup. Thought we should catch reactions. Rigged it into the ship’s public speakers too. Did a back-feed on it. There were just over four hundred people in the auditorium. Sixty-seven people watched it in their rooms.”

  “And there I was feeling hurt by your lack of attention. You really came prepared.”

  “Yup. Figured something like this would happen. You did great, by the way.”

  “Well, you were magnificent, the unsung hero of the event.”

  “Yup.”

  He looked uneasily over his shoulder.

  “Gotta go.”

  “See you tomorrow?”

  “Sure. I’m off shift at five. ‘Bye.”

  He was gone.

  My guests looked at me questioningly, wanting to know who the young man was. Due to Dwayne’s clandestine ministrations, they had been enjoying privacy in their rooms for some time now, but none of them had seen him at work, didn’t even know his name. Only Stron had met him face to face.

  “The lad’s a mysterious stranger”, he informed the others. “Comes out of nowhere, does his job, and disappears back into the night.”

  This was greeted by several knowing “ahs”. Smart people that they were, they pursued it no more. We topped off our meal with huangjiu rice wine and sips of authentic whiskey. The gathering went on until nearly midnight, at which time, we stood up rather unsteady on our feet, heartily congratulated each other on our blow for freedom, and wended our weary ways home to the privacy of our rooms.

  Day 2253:

  This morning I woke early, had a soothing shower, walked my imaginary dog in the arboretum, and listened to Mozart. At seven, the sun and the singing birds were switched on, and I went upstairs to the cafeteria on my floor. There I enjoyed a nice breakfast of poached egg on toast and a cuplet of real berry juice.

  Afterward I dropped in to see Dariush, and found him lying listless on his bed, the blanket under his chin, surrounded by water flasks and medications. A book on Sanskrit lay open on his lap. In terms of personal clutter, his room was about halfway between Stron’s and Xue’s, though the clutter was mainly books—non-digital, cloth-covered books, stacks of them.

  “I thought we’d beaten the common cold”, I said.

  He sneezed. “We have. This is another sort of virus, I am told. My physician has given me something to help with the aches and pains. It surprises me that we are still vulnerable to these invisible enemies.”

  “Me too. You would think our bio-pool is small enough to track down every last one of the varmints and exterminate them.”

  “Unfortunately, they have the habit of taking up residence in our very selves. We are ideal hosts.”

  “We’ll get ‘em, Dariush; we’ll get ‘em.”

  “Your talk was excellent, Neil. I had the pleasure of watching it here. It was a blend of fine content and quality of expression. I honor you for it.”

  “Thank you. Did you see it all?”

  “I saw everything until the lights went off in the auditorium. It was most revealing, especially the attitude of the two gentlemen who attempted to dissuade you from concluding your remarks.”

  “Yes, that was an amusing part.”

  He smiled wanly, and his eyelids closed against his will.

  “You had better rest, Dariush. I’ll look in on you later, if I may.”

  He nodded absently and I left.

  Back in my room, I was just preparing to write down in my paper journal a few more thoughts that had arisen from the foundation of my freedom-responsibility comments the night before, when there came a knock at my door.

  I said, “Open”, and there stood two serious men, staring at me as if they were apprehending a criminal in his lair. Identibadges clipped to the breasts of their suits informed me that they were representatives of DSI.

  “Won’t you come in?” I said graciously.

  “We’re here to accompany you to an interview with Dr. Larson”, the older one said.

  “I haven’t made an arrangement for an interview”, I replied. “And I’m rather busy right now. Please ask Dr. Larson to contact me if he would like to arrange a meeting. We can discuss the possibilities.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but you’re to come now.”

  “On whose authority?” I asked, more amused than anything.

  “The authority of the Department, sir.”

  “I’m a scientist”, I said. “I’m not working for DSI.”

  “Yes, but you are under its authority.”

  “Am I? This is the first I’ve heard about it.”

  “It’s in the Manual”, said the younger one, helpfully.

  “Would you show me?” I said with a smile. “Come on in and l
et’s have a look at it.”

  They stepped inside while I searched for the thing in my desk drawer. I handed the book to the older one, who keyed an entry and brought on screen the heading:

  Department of Social Infrastructure

  Subsection 128; Article B-43.

  Guidelines for authority protocol in conflict situations:

  In the event that conflict situations arise, in which one or more parties to the conflict refuses to enter into counseled negotiations, it is incumbent upon the duly appointed agents of the Department to use reasonable inducement of the said party, or parties, to cooperate with efforts to achieve a just solution.

  I looked up at my visitors. “You’re the agents?”

  They nodded. The elder pointed to a paragraph further down the page:

  Article B-44:

  In the event that a party refusing to cooperate has, by all reasonable means, been informed of his responsibility to participate in negotiations, and has persisted in non-compliance, the said agents are authorized to assist him bodily in attendance at the said negotiations.

  “Assist me bodily, hmmm? Am I being arrested?”

  “No, no”, they hastened to assure me.

  “Sounds like police to me. Sounds like I’m being taken into custody against my will.”

  They looked embarrassed, but would not budge.

  “You have to come now, sir”, said the elder.

  They didn’t clap me in manacles, but they did walk me down the concourse to the elevators, an agent on either side of me, just to make sure I wouldn’t get lost on the way to the offices of DSI, and would arrive without mishap. My gendarmes were not hostile, though they were resolute about fulfilling their duties.

  As we walked along, I told myself: “If you have nothing to hide, there’s nothing to fear. They cannot intimidate you for no reason at all—it’s a free planet. You have a right to be yourself. And if they try their cold, official tricks on you, just remember that deep inside they all crave love, maybe collect butterflies for a hobby, and every one of them has a mother somewhere!”

  My spirits were not uplifted by my pep talk. I did indeed have something to hide, in fact a good deal to hide. There was, for example, the clandestine privatization of at least twelve maxes, maybe more than that. Did they know about it? Had they guessed? And if so, would they want to discover who had done it? Would they interrogate me relentlessly? Would the other scientists who had stood with me on the stage be called in for questioning? If so, would they make a reference to the Mysterious Stranger? Would this provide the authorities with a lead that would become a track winding deep into the forest, a trail of bread crumbs ending at Dwayne? And if that happened, would he be penalized in some fashion?

  It was possible that none of the aforementioned would happen. It was possible that Xue’s call for an investigative committee would be heeded and the surveillance brought to a halt. Maybe. I hoped so. It would depend on the plausibility of our allegations and on how convinced the audience had been. I wondered if they would stand firm in the face of official denials and intangible evidence. The greater majority of people on board were highly intelligent and highly disciplined in their own fields. But how would they handle a problem based on no clear empirical data, on accusations that looked too much like unprovable theory? They were scientists, and this was a strength of sorts. But the fatal flaw of scientists was their tendency to ignore or downplay anything beyond observable and recordable phenomena. They were as liable to emotional influence as anyone else—perhaps more so.

  I was duly delivered to the front office and handed over to the winsome secretary. Her earlier enthusiasm seemed to have waned. She did not enthuse at all, she did not smile, she did not take my hands in hers and pump them. Guardedly, politely, she led me into the inner office. The Grand Elf rose from his desk and, surprisingly, stuck forward his hand for a shake. I shook it. The secretary absented herself and closed the door behind her.

  Exquisitely nuanced sparring ensued. As is now my custom when encountering officials, I had set my lapel button to voice-activate recording. As camouflage, I had also brought my fountain pen and a sheet of paper, on which I would jot down disposable notes.

  “I see you want to make notes”, he said.

  “My memory isn’t what it used to be. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all.”

  He folded his hands across his belly and regarded me with a thoughtful expression.

  Exhaling a mixture of regret and perplexity, he said, “I can’t understand why you did such a thing. It was really irresponsible.”

  “So is invasion of privacy.”

  “There has been no invasion of privacy.”

  I did not bother to reply to this. I felt calm, buoyed by certainty about the justice of my position. I merely watched him, and my silence communicated volumes. There was nothing hostile in his expression, not even a mote of defensiveness. We just looked at each other, and as the seconds ticked away, I began to realize the extent of the abyss between us. It also struck me that he was as convinced of his position as I was of mine. There were no signs of guilt in his face or manner. Unless he was a gifted actor (which in hindsight, I think he was), he appeared to be a man with nothing burdening his conscience.

  “I repeat”, he said to break the silence. “There has been no invasion of privacy.”

  “A moot point, if official policy—stated or unstated—is based on the belief that there is no privacy to invade.”

  “Stated or unstated, you have privacy.”

  “In the bathroom, you mean?”

  “In every cubic centimeter of your quarters.”

  “Is the max considered my personal possession?”

  “It’s ship property. But, of course, it’s entirely yours during the voyage.”

  “Yet, I suppose an argument could be made that it is both entirely mine and entirely yours. We are a team, after all.”

  “Yes, we’re a team.”

  “A community.”

  He frowned. “Your behavior last night significantly undermined the sense of community on the Kosmos. I’d like to know why you took it upon yourself to do that.”

  His tone of voice was not threatening, with no hint of the police interrogation. It was a friendly little chat tone, man-to-man. Nevertheless, I felt my defensiveness rising.

  “It was my duty to do so”, I replied evenly.

  “Your duty? A duty based on speculation and gossip?”

  “Based on an experiment.”

  “What experiment?”

  “Elf, I’m not quite clear why you’ve brought me here today. Is this an interrogation? If it is an interrogation, I would like to know on what authority you’re conducting it.”

  “The full authority of my Department, which has been entrusted with the social security of the community during the flight.”

  “To the point of arresting people?”

  “Call it what you will. The stipulations in the Manual clearly define—”

  “I’ve read the pertinent paragraphs in the Manual”, I interrupted. “They’re vague legalese. They could mean anything you want them to mean.”

  “Not at all. They are clearly spelled out.”

  “With nauseating euphemisms.”

  “There’s no need to become emotional, Dr. Hoyos. Why are you so emotional about this?”

  “Why are you so emotional, Dr. Larson, though you are masking it very well? Very well indeed, I must say.”

  He emitted a mild snort along with a scowl.

  “You referred to an experiment. If it’s such a conclusive one, why not tell me about it? If you think something is wrong about the conduct of shipboard life, this is the very place to raise the issue.”

  “Unless you, yourself, Dr. Larson, are the problematic issue.”

  “What do you mean?” he said in a quiet voice.

  “When Dr. McKie and I discussed the surveillance, we did it through our maxes. Hot on the heels of that I received your kind invita
tion to meet, even though during the previous six years I had neither seen you nor heard about you.”

  “Purely coincidence.”

  “And during that first conversation you ever so subtly brought up the topic of Dr. McKie and his harebrained theories.”

  “I did not say ‘harebrained’.”

  “You have a good memory. And you are correct: at our first meeting you used the word ‘wild’. Last night it changed into ‘harebrained’. There had been an emotional shift in the wind.”

  “Of course there had been. Something insignificant had become a threat to the collective health of the community.”

  “In what way had it become a threat?”

  “You know very well that these kinds of suspicions breed unrest and divisions, setting off a chain reaction that can create havoc for efficient social communications, not to mention undermining scientific research on AC-A-7.”

  “Efficient social communications? I wonder what that is? I wonder, too, if mankind has ever achieved such a thing?”

  “Part of my job is to ensure that it happens.”

  “Whether we want it or not?”

  “Do you like confusion and suspicion? Do you enjoy those feelings, Dr. Hoyos?”

  “Not very much, Dr. Larson. But they are preferable, by far, to imposed serenity.”

  “Imposed!” he snorted again.

  “Subtly imposed, insidiously and relentlessly imposed without our knowledge. I think you have fallen into a very old mental trap, Dr. Larson. You mistake uniformity for unity.”

  “A play on words. They are the same thing.”

  “They are very much not the same thing. Uniformity is brought about through manipulation. Unity comes about through a conscious effort made by free and responsible people.”

  “You call yourself responsible, I suppose?”

  “Yes, I do. Your Department would lift certain responsibilities off our shoulders, wouldn’t it? You would do it for the highest motives, wouldn’t you? But have you considered what is lost in the process?”

  “For the sake of your hypothetical argument, I would say that strife is lost, as well as division, inefficiency, confusion, the irrational tendencies in human nature. And you wish to preserve these?”