by Thea Gregory
“Oh, thanks. I will. You’ve been too great, thank you,” she said, securing the small card in the pocket of her cotton pants.
“If some egghead gets fresh with you, just punch him. Trust me—they won’t know what hit them. And keep exercising, or going back home will not be fun,” he said with a wink.
“I can take care of myself. Just make sure you don’t humiliate the wrong poker player.”
“I’ll take my chances.” He darted in, and planted a quick kiss on her cheek before departing. She stumbled for a moment, hoping her awkwardness would go unnoticed. She then walked off, glancing back to see Sven vanish into the crowd. Her hand shot to her cheek, stroking the afterimage of his lips. Had she spent so much time in a mountain, surrounded by machines and the people equally enamored of them that she could no longer pick up on basic social cues?
The thought followed her to the terminal—Janus, the station’s AI was online and ready to assist her. She’d worked with some similar units at university, and after two attempts she was able to discover the route to the New Damascus port. She counted herself fortunate that the directions didn’t involve the rapid conveyor belts. Her instincts interpreted them as unsafe.
She walked towards her destination with a canvas bag flung over her shoulder and her luggage already on its way. The station was designed with a wing for every arm of the Milky Way galaxy. New Damascus was located near a gap in the galaxy’s Cygnus arm, and its port was in a newer part of the station. After a few minutes, she spotted the bend in the hallway and marched towards it.
A stark contrast in decor was evident as she walked through the threshold of the corridor. Gone was the polished steel and granite motif, replaced by authentic-looking ceramic tiles and warm wood tones. It was as though she’d stepped off the space station and into a cozy traditional home. The wing itself was about the size of a soccer field, and was cordoned off at the end by a large steel barrier. There were only two ports: one to the New Damascus orbital spaceport, and the other restricted to the Ithaca Colonization Initiative. The door slid open as she passed her ticket over the scanner. She took a seat by the window, and fell asleep as she awaited departure.
Four
Vivian awoke with a start, and pressed her hands against the hatch of the stasis tube in a futile attempt to force it open. Her fingers found only cold steel and no give. She was confused and groggy as the events from the hours before her entry into stasis resurfaced in her mind. She’d been asleep for four weeks, but it was as though she’d just closed her eyes moments ago. The five meter long pod she’d taken to the Extra-Galactic Observatory was un-manned; it would be up to the station’s complement of researchers to help her disembark. The staff at the New Damascus space dock had loaded her bags into the pod, and secured her in stasis before the craft embarked on its lonely voyage. It had already been filled to capacity with care packages from the crew’s families and new equipment. After seeing the cramped and disordered conditions, Vivian had welcomed traveling in stasis.
Voices murmured outside her tube, but the window above her remained dark. Banging vibrated through the tube as boxes and equipment were moved around. She hoped they were being careful; those boxes held important fragile parts for the upgrade she was going to perform on quIRK. Her work could be delayed by even the slightest scratch. The air inside the tube was growing hot and stale; its life support system had been deactivated as soon as the Extra-Galactic Observatory’s computer had cleared the docking procedure. quIRK knew she was here. Why hadn’t he told the staff?
Her cheeks blossomed pink, and she hammered her fists against the tube’s canister, the stagnant air leaving her dizzy and her sight blooming with bright red spots. How could they leave her like this for so long? The voice spoke again, and she heard the clatter of items being moved. She couldn’t make out the words, but one of the voices reverberated through the canister—it was soft, but steady and commanding. The other presence had gone quiet and occupied itself with clearing the fallen debris from on top of her pod. She reasoned that her small craft must have encountered some kind of turbulence in the interplanetary medium. She wanted to keep calm, but her heart was pounding against her burning lungs. Why was only one of them working to free her?
The lid cracked open, treating Vivian to a welcome wave of cool air which soothed her burning lungs. Inhaling, she squinted at the streak of harsh white light.
“Hey, are you okay?” She couldn’t see the speaker; he had a deep but concerned voice.
“Groggy, kind of.” Her voice worked to overcome her dry throat. She opened her eyes to a pair of brown eyes peeking out from under a nest of overgrown wavy, black hair.
“I told you there was a passenger, Alec.” The other voice spoke. Its tone was so perfect and even, a gentle tenor. It was a voice that resounded like a calm wave across the ocean.
“Yeah, well,” Alec said as he threw open the lid. “Last time you said that it was just that damn pair of kittens you’d ordered.” He extended a hand to Vivian. She found the conversation very odd. She could only just make out his features; he had a thin face with fine features and round, thick lips. His complexion was reddish—unlike anything she’d encountered in Aurora. She tried not to stare.
“Allow me to introduce Vivian Skye—” the speaker continued, before it was cut off by Alec.
“She’s blue! We need oxygen down here!” The young man grasped her wrist, groping for a pulse. His wide eyes searched her face. Vivian checked her arms and hands in alarm, awareness rushing back to her. She didn’t seem any bluer than usual.
“No need for alarm, Alec,” said the other voice. “She’s an Auroran, and perfectly healthy.” The voice hadn’t altered, in tone or pitch. How could he know she was healthy if he couldn’t see her?
“Wow, okay, that was unexpected. Sorry Vivian, let me get you out of that tube.” He sucked in a deep breath before pulling her to her feet with a grimace of his pouting lips. She stepped out. Her legs ached from lack of use, but the strain wasn’t unpleasant. She peered out behind Alec.
“Um, hi Alec. Who’s your friend?”
“Friend, yeah, that’s an interesting word for him,” Alec said with an exaggerated shake of his head, before drawing his face close to hers and taking a good look at her skin. She pulled back, fighting the need to cover her heating cheeks.
“Are you insinuating something, Alec?” Despite the insult, there was no anger in the voice, or any hint of emotion at all.
“Damn, he usually doesn’t catch sarcasm.” Alec rolled his eyes. “That’s just quIRK. You’ll get used to him eventually.”
“That’s quIRK?” Vivian couldn’t contain her surprise. She searched the ceiling, the walls, even the ridged metal floor. She didn’t see any cameras, flashing lights, terminals or speakers. There was nothing to indicate that any kind of computer was in the room, much less one of the most advanced artificial intelligences in the galaxy. It was so unlike how things had been at school. Alec began to laugh.
“Mind your manners, Alec. We want Vivian to feel welcome. After all, she is performing my upgrades.” quIRK’s voice had dropped, as though it were trying to whisper.
A discreet computer, how interesting, Vivian thought. “You know about that?” Vivian asked, as Alec made no effort to compose himself.
“Of course. I do have a vested interest in making sure you do a good job.”
Vivian caught herself nodding—she couldn’t believe she was empathizing with a computer. But, it was a machine which had been programmed to be a companion and social outlet for crews on isolated deep-space missions. Still, she hadn’t expected him to seem so alive. Maybe not human or even self-aware, but perhaps he was simultaneously more and less than human.
“I’ll do my best.” She was not quite sure how to respond to that statement.
“I expect nothing less.” quIRK returned his voice to full volume, and continued: “Now, Alec, you drew the antiblue quark in the probability pool, so it’s your job to finish unloading the shutt
le.”
“I drew the antiblue quark the last two cycles too. I think you’re cheating. Shouldn’t I help Vivian get to her room?” Alec spoke to the wall as his gaze followed the chaotic mess of spilled boxes surrounding him.
“I am perfectly capable of showing Miss Skye to her quarters. Probability is a bitch, Alec.” Once again, quIRK pitched his voice to a whisper.
Vivian couldn’t help but laugh.
“You laugh now; wait until he decides he wants you to draw antiblue. What the hell is antiblue anyways?” Alec asked, grumbling as he checked the label on a box.
“It’s my favorite color,” quIRK said. “Now, if you’ll follow the red panels on the floor, Vivian, I’ll show you your new home.”
“How could I resist? See you later, Alec.” Vivian bit back a rush of questions. Butterflies danced in her stomach. She was alone with quIRK! The computer at her university couldn’t speak, much less antagonize humans with a favorite color. She told herself that it was just a sophisticated psychological subroutine. There was no way quIRK could be sentient and allowed to continue to exist. He’d have been reported years ago.
She walked out of the dark shuttle, and she was surprised to be met by warm, cream-colored walls and a beige-tiled floor. None of this was as she expected. From her own limited research back on Aurora, she’d expected a clinical and metallic decor to the egg-shaped station. The external pictures that had accompanied her Aurora-friendly information package showed an oblong monstrosity with two hemispherical indents on each side that were lined with hexagonal telescope inputs, its grey-alloy surface only marred by a bisecting streak of windows. As quIRK guided her way down the hall by illuminating tiles, she could still hear his calm, impassive voice in the distance, debating the merits of antiblue with Alec.
Five
Vivian didn’t see another person during her short walk through the facility. The red tiles blinked ahead of her down the curved hallway, like in some of the old movies she’d watched. She tried to step on one, hoping that the color would change or flash, but instead the iridescent red vanished beneath her intruding foot. The fog of stasis was lifting from her mind, though her legs were still too light. She was glad to leave her bags behind with Alec, if only because she didn’t want to accidentally break anything.
Something else bothered her, something that made the little hairs on the back of her neck stand up. It was quIRK. She’d anticipated a cold, obvious mechanical voice and a basic, utilitarian personality. That thing had a favorite color—although she doubted that antiblue could be described in the visual spectrum. Humans usually claimed puce as their preferred color when trying to annoy others. Perhaps antiblue could be interpreted as the quantum computer equivalent of puce? quIRK had not spoken, so she assumed that he was still arguing with Alec about quarks. She couldn’t decide which of them was more ridiculous: quIRK for having a favorite color, or Alec for arguing with a computer about its favorite color.
“This is your room, Vivian,” quIRK said as the tiles returned to their non-luminous state. The door slid open without a sound, and she stepped inside. “This station has one long elliptical hallway. While getting lost is theoretically impossible, some humans have managed to do so. Please ask me should you need further assistance.”
“Thanks,” she said, unsure of how to speak to it. Were manners even necessary? Also troubling was the concept of getting lost in a space station that had only one hallway.
“I have prepared these quarters for you. If you like, I can adjust the gravity and oxygen levels to be closer to the Auroran standard,” quIRK continued. The door slid closed behind her, but she still couldn’t discern where his voice was coming from. The effect was disconcerting, heightening the sense that quIRK was an all-seeing, omnipresent being.
“That would be great!” she said, relieved that even if she was a long way from home on a strange space station for the next year or more, she could at least be comfortable in her own room. The lightness in her limbs and chest subsided. She rolled her shoulders while she walked over to the window that spanned the length and height of her room. There were a few distant specs of light, but otherwise the interstellar vista was a dark and lonely void.
“You look more relaxed already. Alec will be along with your bags shortly. If you need anything, just call. I am everywhere,” quIRK said. Vivian was a little unnerved by the concept of being watched by a computer, but at least he was a thoughtful computer.
Vivian rubbed down the stand of gooseflesh on her arms as she examined her small room; compared to the cramped and overcrowded dormitory room she’d shared with three other girls at the Auroran Technological Institute, it was luxurious. The bed was about double the size of her old cot, and, after a test-flop, she estimated that it was several decades newer. There was a simple metal dresser and mirror built into the wall by the foot of the bed. Across the room sat a computer terminal and a comfortable chair made of a shiny black material. Vivian ran a finger along it, trying to place the fabric. There was a small, private bathroom set in polished metal just behind the desk. She’d never had her own bathroom before—her home back on Aurora had been small and cramped, with her parents and two brothers. They had all shared a single bathroom, and she had been the only child with the privilege of having her own room.
She sighed when she thought about her family, and gazed out into the barren twilight of intergalactic space. Her parents had been ardent traditionalist luddites who believed that advanced technology was enslaving the human spirit. They also despised Caesareans, for reasons beyond Vivian’s comprehension. For a long time, she’d tried to hide her passion for technology and quantum informatics from them. She’d passed her intense study off as wanting to become a botanist, to follow in her mother’s footsteps. However, when the time came to finalize her specialization, she picked quantum informatics at the only school on Aurora that was equipped to teach it. Her mother had been heartbroken, prompting her father to issue an ultimatum: school or family. The choice still tormented her, but she knew she could never be happy or even fulfilled taking over her mother’s bluespargus and rice farm, or being apprenticed to a trade. Her older brother, Gareth, had been more supportive—he had helped her move into the dorms and written her letters after she’d been kicked out of the house, but after a few months he’d stopped replying. After that final abandonment, she’d flung herself at her schoolwork and made friends who were more than happy to be her new family, many of whom had also experienced a similar falling out. The pressure of rebuilding her social network after leaving Aurora was daunting, but she’d already met Sven, and Alec seemed like a nice person, if he could get used to her being a bit blue. She wasn’t sure how quIRK figured into the picture. An eccentric uncle seemed the most apt comparison she could make to the supercomputer’s personality.
The door buzzed, shattering her daydream, and she turned from the window. She walked towards it and pushed the small button on the panel next to the door. It slid open, and Alec was standing in front of her with a too-big smile on his face and her bags in his hands. “Room service has arrived. Where do you want your bags?” he asked, presenting a mouth that held the illusion of having too many teeth.
“Just leave them by the bed, please.” She stepped out of the way and motioned him in.
“Alright,” Alec said. But, as he crossed the threshold, he stumbled under the weight of the bags. “Oh shit!” he cried out, and he fell to his knees. The bags toppled to the floor, her effects clattering inside.
“Are you alright?” Vivian rushed to help Alec to his feet. It hadn’t occurred to her to warn him about the gravity. It was so normal to her, and usually visitors to Aurora were well aware of the challenges inherent to visiting that planet.
“A little warning next time. Did quIRK put you up to that?” Alec tried to push himself to his feet, but needed a moment to gather his strength. He pulled away from her, forcing himself to an upright position. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
“No, no of course not,” she said
, taking a step back. A seed of doubt had been planted—did quIRK intentionally suggest the gravity change as a prank? As far as she knew, no computer was programmed with a sense of humor.
“Come now, Alec. Vivian can have her quarters any way she likes.” The smooth, clear voice was unmoved by the spectacle.
“You like it like this? What the hell?” Alec protested as he shambled to the door.
Vivian stifled a laugh. “It’s how my world is! quIRK offered to change it so I would be more comfortable!”
“quIRK. I knew he was in on this,” Alec said, grumbling as he stepped out of the room.
“Is twenty-five percent extra gravity really that difficult of an adaptation for a human?” quIRK asked.
“I’m from Elyssia, damn it. Normal gravity took me weeks of strength training to get used to.” Alec sighed. He ran his hand through his messy hair. The wavelets tumbled back into place.
“I had no idea, I’m sorry,” Vivian said. She realized that everything in her room would weigh close to double what he was accustomed to.
“See quIRK, she’s sorry. What about you?” Alec talked to the ceiling, shaking his fist.
“I cannot perceive how this situation could be interpreted as my fault. Perhaps you should exercise more.”
Alec walked off down the hall without so much as a goodbye while he continued to berate quIRK. “You are evil, quIRK. I hope she does upgrade you, you no-good particle-brained—”
Vivian remained silent, and slipped back into her room. The door closed behind her. She hefted her bags off the floor and carried them to the bed. Despite her disastrous reception so far, it was time to unpack, and to make sure her more fragile personal effects were not damaged during the trip to the station, or when Alec dropped them.