by Ashanti Luke
The music sphere began to whisper another tale in the air. This one began with the piano again, but this time it was somber. It was begging for forgiveness for some unforgivable affront. Villichez was nodding either in understanding of Cyrus, or the piano, or maybe a little of both. “You know there’s not a man on this ship who has not come to me expressing doubt—myself included. Oddly, or maybe not so odd, you were the last. You know, you were not the only one who came here to escape something, or in search of something new, but it was clear—even from the start—that you were here also in defiance.”
“But defiance of what?”
“I believe that is your question to answer.”
The bass attempted to console the piano to little avail. “Fair enough.”
“Besides, with all the work we have before us planet-side, it won’t be long before the Damocles lands, and parts of our old lives will return. Perhaps the ten relative years between now and then will reveal some things that seemed timeworn on Earth as welcoming as an old, familiar lullaby.”
“Well, I hope you are right,” Cyrus began to get up from the chair. He was spent now himself, and the piano’s lament was no longer comforting.
“Hope is what this trip is all about, is it not?”
Cyrus was up now and moving to the door, “Perhaps,” he paused and took one last look at the music sphere as it spun and hovered above the datadeck, itself in defiance of the gravity waves that kept the scientists’ feet anchored to the side of the ship they called ground. “Well, thank you for your time. I am heading to bed. Maybe sleep will help renew my faith in humanity.”
“Maybe it’s not humanity you lost faith in.” Villichez was up now as well, politely escorting Cyrus to the door.
Cyrus paused, canting his head slightly toward Villichez, “You know I’ve never in my life gone to see a therapist.”
Villichez put his hand on Cyrus’s shoulder and gripped firmly. The gesture was stronger than Cyrus expected, but steadying. “And you still haven’t. This was just a candid conversation between colleagues at a round table—between friends.” Villichez nodded, and Cyrus nodded back with more of a smile than he believed was possible as the door quietly slid shut between them.
ten
• • • • •
—Anything interesting happen at school today, Dari?
—We talked about monkeys all day today. That was interesting. But the most interesting part is why we talked about monkeys all day.
—Why was that?
—Genivere had an apple, an actual real apple, not dried or anything. She said it came off a tree that her grandfather owned. Well, as she was parading it around the room, a monkey dove through the window, jumped off a desk, and landed on her head. She was screaming and swinging her arms everywhere and dropped the apple. The monkey caught it before it hit the ground and ran into the hallway. They cleared the grounds and searched for that stupid monkey all day. Finally, they found it hiding in a closet eating the apple, but it got away again and jumped out another window. Genivere was taken to the hospital for tests they said. She was still screaming when the medi-lev took her away.
—Were you scared?
—I was too busy laughing to be scared, but a lot of people were freaked out. Afterward, people asked a lot of questions so Miss Hasabe taught us about monkeys for the rest of the day. About how they used to be only found in jungle areas a long time ago, but as humans moved into those areas and tore down the trees, they started to move around to other places like the Fringe States where people can’t really stop them. She also said that because people killed a lot of the other scary animals that would eat or chase off monkeys, they were able to have a lot of monkey babies. The part I didn’t understand was that if most monkeys are from the former South America and from Africa, how they got to Los Angeles. South America and Africa are a long ways away. Even for people. She said she didn’t know.
—Well, they believe monkeys got into New York and Washington D.C. by hiding on planes from South America, but some probably got there from idiots smuggling them here for pets. The story I heard of how they came here is that the monkeys here were grown in pods in a lab, but one day, a group of people who thought testing on monkeys was bad showed up outside a lab to protest…
—What’s protesting Dada?
—Well, it’s when you don’t agree with something that is happening, and you go in public and complain about it.
—Is that a bad thing?
—Not necessarily, but these people were particularly angry and weren’t thinking very well, and they broke into the lab and let out somewhere between a hundred and two hundred monkeys before they were arrested. Now usually, lab monkeys are sterile, which means they can’t have kids, but these people happened to pick a lab that was testing drugs that keep people from having babies for a short time, so the monkeys needed to be able to have babies to be tested.
—Why didn’t they just catch all the monkeys and bring them back or put them in a preserve?
—Because monkeys are just as resourceful as us, if not more so, and they are extremely hard to catch if they don’t want to be caught.
—But I don’t understand why monkeys are so dangerous.
—Well for starters, monkeys have long claws and are stronger than they look, but worst of all, they can carry all sorts of horrible diseases that don’t bother them, but wreck humans plenty bad.
—How did they get so diseased, Dada?
—I think a lot of the diseases come from people spreading out too far too fast. In the past, when people cut down a lot of trees too fast, they began to discover all sorts of diseases and problems they never had before. Also, people living on top of each other and not keeping places clean helps generate disease. It’s basically a side-effect of using the world like a lav seat.
—Well you can clean a lav seat to fight germs.
—Well, I think disease might be nature’s way of cleaning the lav seat, only in this case, the monkeys and the diseases don’t seem to be the germs—more often than not, it seems we are the germs.
—Well, Dada, I don’t want to be a germ, and I definitely don’t want a disease, so I think I’ll make sure to clean my own lav seat, so nature doesn’t have to do it for me.
—That idea sounds like a winner indeed, Dari. But in the meantime, stay away from infested street monkeys, and especially stay away from Miss Hasabe’s window if you have fruit in your hand.
—Will do, Dada. Will do.
• • • • •
“How do you feel about leaving the ship?” Dr. Villichez asked. This visit with Cyrus was an official counseling session. “Many have had anxieties and apprehensions over disembarking.” Jazz again played in the background, only the sound was more to calm the visitor by quelling the inane humming of the ship. Zephyr-like on the sterile air of the ship, the music was decidedly less passionate this visit.
“So you’re concerned we’re all becoming a little too attached to the ship?”
Villichez smiled, “Always analyzing the analyst.”
“Well, no reason to worry about me. Leaving this thing is no different to me than leaving anything else.”
“Please,” Villichez paused to cross his legs, cupping his hands over his knee, “elaborate.”
“Guess I just never really felt in-place anywhere. One place is just as awkward as the next.” Cyrus paused for a moment, looking at the rug beneath his feet. Cyrus wondered why he had not taken notice of the rug on his previous visit. “I have to say, I feel like I can be myself here.” He smiled at Villichez, who returned it, already knowing what was coming next. “I guess that’s why you’re always giving me the stink-eye.”
Villichez looked amused, but then quickly became detached and his gaze faltered as if someone had called his name from another room. “You know this stink-eye you refer to is not easy to come by. It is earned more than cast. In my country, it is not customary to be combative with those you take under your wing; a certain amount of reverence is
demanded by the elder and a certain amount of... tolerance is expected from those in his charge. Often the indiscretions of the student or child are met with a certain amount of parental vehemence, but that generally arises out of frustration rather than an idea of necessity.”
The music took a livelier shift, but was still too light to be taken seriously. Cyrus looked somewhat confused, “I’m not sure I follow.”
Villichez shifted his weight, leaning forward slightly, “Do you know why I signed on to this mission?” He paused to take in a short breath, but did not wait for an answer, “I was in Korea working on the avatar system with Dr. Jang when the Yersinia swept through Manila. It was swift and deadly, and my wife and sons were among the first afflicted. The lab where they worked had been quarantined to protect the specimens and the researchers, but ironically, it wasn’t exposure to rodents, or vermin, or even others infected with the disease that got the best of them. You see, we had felt fortunate enough to be able to afford pets, especially our two dogs that helped protect the house from monkey attacks, but evidently, those with pets had been more susceptible to the disease. Ironically, it was the animals that had vigilantly protected us from harm that had somehow become carriers for the malady.” He sighed, almost straining to force the heavy air from his lungs. “By the time the quarantine at the airports had been lifted, my wife, children, and all our pets had already been cremated. Omari, my eldest, a brilliant zoobiologist, had been such a handful as a child. Too smart for his own good, and too full of fire to be controlled by anyone who wasn’t as smart as him. I fancy that’s why he had such an affinity for animals—especially primates and predators.”
Villichez removed something from his desk, moved his thumb across it, and the monotonous music stopped, leaving nothing but the hum of the ship. “I am a man who takes pride in his level of patience and diplomacy, but that boy could push me to my limit as fast as flipping on a switch. It was as if that boy had a remote control to my adrenal gland, and he enjoyed using it. But as he became a man, I understood—I was frustrated more by his constant reminder of my own transgressions as a young man than by his indiscretions themselves, and every time he reminded me, an uncontrollable look of disdain would arrest my expression.”
The look of confusion was gone, but Cyrus still had no words in response. There was a long silence magnified by the oscillations of the metal and plastic that ushered them through space at a rate that stretched the moment nigh unto its threshold. Villichez looked at the ground, hand clasped across his knee, frozen. It was if he had been left behind by the ship and only his image remained, while Cyrus, still traveling close to the limits of the universe, was moving too fast to comprehend the reality that surrounded the wizened old man. But he understood. At any speed, the thoughts that consumed the man before him, turning his eyes to the floor, were as real and visceral to Cyrus as the incessant hum in the walls. The weight of it all stooped Cyrus’s head as well until Villichez overwhelmed the buzzing with his voice, “You ever wonder why the greatest works of literature or of art center around pain and strife?”
Cyrus only shook his head.
“It’s because happiness is easy. We get it. It doesn’t need explanation,” Villichez smiled as if the thought on the tip of his tongue lent him strength, “It’s misery that needs examining, that needs purpose.”
Cyrus found the strength to meet Villichez’s eyes. It took some effort, but wasn’t hard.
“I expected to find that purpose on this trip,” Villichez’s smile was wide now, almost a grin, “so far, I have not been let down.”
Cyrus let the words resonate in his ears and settle in his head. There was really nothing left to say. He stood from his chair slowly and extended his hand. Villichez stood and took his hand in both his. Villichez shook it loosely, but it was definite nonetheless. As Cyrus turned to leave, words of his own finally made their way from his head to his tongue, “Didn’t feel much like I would expect—the counseling and all.”
“Son, I don’t think you would ever allow me to counsel you. Not unless it was of your own volition. Maybe not even then.”
Cyrus smiled and nodded as Villichez patted his hand then released it. Cyrus approached the door and it slid open to reveal Dr. Eisenhertz waiting, leaning against the outside wall. Cyrus nodded to him and Eisenhertz returned the nod as they exchanged places in the doorway. As Dr. Villichez greeted Eisenhertz and the door slid shut, the air seemed lighter than before, and a little less cold.
• • • • •
The morning was like any other—like any other morning except the ship had been slowed to a speed measurable to the average Novitiate with a datadeck. Everyone was packed into the underused bridge of the ship, and for the first time in two hundred and two relative years, the louvers were open enabling everyone to take in the infinite breadth of space from a perspective never witnessed by a mortal man.
They had approached the planet from the day side. Set, the blistering orange ball of fusing gas that warmed Asha, lay behind them. Four hours ago, they had run a medium-range scan on the ‘morning’ edge of daylight. Cyrus, Milliken, and Dr. Qin had examined the data and determined a place to land and set up camp where they would have access to the underground freshwater and where they could ensure at least twenty years of daylight. Cyrus anticipated stepping out into the open barren of Asha, breathing unprocessed air for the first time in three lifetimes. The ship’s suncasters provided white light as energized as sunlight, and the orange rays of Set would most likely be strange at first, but Cyrus looked forward to the familiar feeling of charged photons cascading over his skin from a natural sun.
Commander Uzziah was maneuvering the ship into orbit in order to deploy the communications satellite in geosynchronous orbit over the spot they had selected. Jang sat fixated on the command unit, ensuring the data from Cyrus, Toutopolus, and Dr. Qin had been properly processed by the Shipmate. Toutopolus sat almost shoulder to shoulder with Jang, both huddled over the holographic imager, both visibly shaking with excitement in search of any unforeseen meteorites or debris in the vicinity of the ship.
“Uh, have we deployed the satellite yet?” Toutopolus asked, a barely perceptible vibrato in his voice.
“Dr. Tsuchiya hasn’t even suited up yet,” Commander Uzziah informed.
The trill in Toutopolus’s voice increased as did his pitch, “Then can someone please explain to me why it’s floating by about fifty kilometers out?” Toutopolus moved aside to give the scientists closest to him a better view of the hologram. Sure enough, there was a satellite-shaped object about fifty kilometers out in an orbit slightly closer to the planet.
“What the hell?” Cyrus intoned to himself as he increased the size of the object on the imager.
“That’s definitely a satellite, but it’s not one of ours,” Jang added amidst a now audible murmur in the background. He pointed to the insignia emblazoned across the side of the device as Cyrus continued to zoom. ‘Terrick,’ a hyphen, and the Greek letter rho were now clearly visible on the hologram.
“Son of an uberhound,” Uzziah uttered, closely examining the impossible three-dimensional image floating in front of them.
“Uhh...” someone behind them muttered, “Uhh, guys...” Dr. Eisenhertz was pointing at something along the horizon line of the planet outside the window. They all followed his index finger to the brightening glimmer at the far edge of the planet. The sun caught the small metal object in the distance and it took a moment to register the distance and size of the thing. They could see a proportionally thin tether attached to it and Cyrus and Dr. Qin instantly knew what it must be, even though it was impossible.
“It’s an orbital elevator,” Dr. Qin said, more to himself than everyone else.
“What?” Dr. Villichez puzzled, “How the...”
“Hailing all frequencies! Earth vehicle, surrender your controls, deactivate all scanning devices and weaponry, and prepare for armed escort and conveyance,” a voice with an elusive accent declared over the emer
gency hailing system with bombast and authority. The imaging hologram zoomed out automatically as the proximity alarm sounded. Two small spacecraft, blatantly designed to intimidate, approached the image of the Paracelsus from either side at menacing velocities.
Even Commander Uzziah seemed daunted in his attempt to gain his bearings. The two attack ships matched the orbit of the Paracelsus slightly below and on either side as the satellite passed beneath the formation. The orbital tether grew on the horizon, and its enormity became obvious as it grew much slower than any object on the immediate horizon should have.
“What should we do?” Fordham asked as a din of bewilderment and panic began to surface around him.
“We should comply. We are ill-equipped to deal with this any other way,” Uzziah said, moving his hand to disengage the ships scanning systems. As the hologram faded, two larger vehicles approached from above and below and then the image was gone. The ship shook suddenly, but the shaking quickly subsided to a low oscillation as the hull vibrated in the magnetic grip of their escorts.
They ushered along in silence as the tethered station, now clearly a dodecahedron, grew on the horizon line. The journey to the station seemed longer and more taxing than the five relative years since they had awakened from their Hyposomatic sleep. Each of them stood before the window of the Paracelsus in absolute silence watching the impossible unfold before them.
Cyrus ran through the possibilities in his head. The only realistic possibility was that Winberg had been correct. Man had somehow conquered the light-speed barrier in their relativistic lifespan and quite possibly, as Winberg had also proposed, in their original lifespan. The biggest and most pressing question, at least to Cyrus, was if that barrier had been broken before or after the Damocles had been built. The anxiety made the room seem impossibly hot.