by K E Lanning
A smile flitted across her face. “Thanks, Jin.” She sat down and turned on her computer. Exhausted, she blinked against the flashing lights and humming noises as the computer booted up. She sipped her coffee as the screen dissolved into a soft blue background.
A melodious voice spoke: “Welcome to the ISS, Lowry. My name is Bob, and I’ll be your assistant on board.”
Lowry smirked. “How do you spell Bob, Bob?”
“B–O—ah, I hear the smile in your voice—you’re joking with me, Lowry. Thanks, that’s a friendly gesture. I think we’ll get along very well.”
Laughing, Lowry replied, “I think so, too, Bob.”
CHAPTER 3
A week later, Lowry sniffed the shirt of her uniform, grimaced, and drew her nose back. “Getting a little ripe. Guess I’d better find the laundry room.”
She bagged up her dirty clothes and tossed her laundry bag over her shoulder. Strolling down the corridor, she spotted the laundry room. Lowry set her bag on one of the tables, and rubbing her chin, she contemplated the unfamiliar machines before her.
A young woman about Lowry’s age came into the room and glanced at her. “Do you need help?” she asked with a slight Southern drawl.
“Desperately.”
She chuckled. “My name is Zoë. Are you new?”
Lowry smiled. “Hard to tell, I know.” Sticking out her hand, she introduced herself. “I’m Lowry.”
Zoë shook her hand. “Welcome aboard. Let me show you how to use the machines.” Zoë opened the front of a machine and gestured for Lowry to dump her clothes in. “Just touch the front of the machine here.”
“Is everything keyed to our fingerprints?”
“About everything except the toilets.”
The machine started, and Lowry exhaled. “Is that it?”
“Yep, it’s one machine that does everything. You might think of it as dry cleaning rather than washing—water is too precious to waste on cleaning clothes.” Zoë pulled out her finished clothes from another machine and started folding them on the table. “The reason they assign us these clothes is because they are made with a special type of fabric for these machines.” She held up one of the shirts, curling her lip. “It’s not for fashion reasons.”
Lowry grinned. “I hear that. Do you want some help?”
“Thanks, Lowry.”
“I appreciate your help with the machine,” she said, folding some of Zoë’s clothes. “Oh, how long does the cycle take?”
Zoë stuffed her clothes in a bag and winked. “Long enough for me to buy you a drink.”
They strolled down to the nearest lounge, and Zoë sat at a large table, gesturing for Lowry to sit down.
Lowry blinked at the size of the table. “Are you expecting a crowd?”
“When one of us catches a newbie, we sit and wait for a group to gather so we can start the hazing.”
“Great, something to look forward to.”
Zoë ordered beverages on a computer screen set into the table. “What are you drinking?”
“Surprise me.”
Zoë hit the order button and sat back in her chair with a smile. “Now that the drinks are ordered, we can start the interrogation. Lowry, where are you from?”
“I was born in the States, but now I live in a small town on Antarctica.”
“Yeah, right.” Zoë smirked.
Lowry chuckled. “Seriously, our farm is on the outskirts of the mining station—my father and uncle moved down there years ago to work for the mining company. After my mother died, I joined them.” Their drinks came, and Lowry sipped her mojito. “How about you, Zoë?”
“Alabama, but went to college on a ROTC scholarship at Virginia Tech, then the Marines.”
“You were a Marine? That’s impressive,” Lowry said with raised eyebrows.
“One of our relatives was a Tuskegee airman—military service is part of our family tradition.”
A young woman waved to Zoë and wandered over to the table.
Zoë introduced Lowry. “Nura, meet Lowry Walker, a newbie to our tinker toy.” She turned back to Lowry. “I forgot to ask; what department are you working in?”
“Landsat in Section One—I’m collecting data over Antarctica for future use, perhaps opening it to homesteading.”
“Wow, I hadn’t heard that. I work in Section Two, the security department.” She turned to her friend Nura. “Section One . . . Nura, doesn’t Sevy work in Section One?”
Nura arched an eyebrow. “At least Sevy says so.”
“Would you mind asking if he could join us and meet Lowry?”
“If he’s not gaming.” Nura shrugged, sending an invitation for him to join the group.
Zoë turned to Lowry. “Sevy’s into virtual reality.”
Nura snorted. “For him, it’s not virtual—it is his reality. Life is just fill-in around his VR sessions.”
In a few minutes, a young man ambled into the bar, and Zoë waved to him. “Over here, Sevy.”
Sevy cocked his head, pushing his glasses back up onto his face. His pace slowed as he neared the table.
Zoë gestured at Lowry. “This is Lowry Walker; she also works in Section One. Maybe you guys could go to lunch sometime?”
Sevy cleared his throat. “I think I saw you the other day, Lowry.” He stared at the table. “I work down from you a bit—I’m the IT guy for the space station.”
Lowry nodded. “That’s right, Sevy. It’s good to place a name to a face.”
Zoë bent toward Lowry, whispering, “Sevy’s a little shy at first, but once he warms up, he’s okay.” She gestured to a chair. “Sit down, Sevy. I’m buying a round for the table.”
A smile flitted across Sevy’s face but faded in an instant. His lips were pinched as he struggled to get the chair out and then sat down abruptly. His fingers drummed the tabletop as he stared at the computer screen inset into the surface.
“Where are you from, Sevy?” Lowry asked as the drinks arrived to the table.
“Monterrey, Mexico,” he said, staring at the foam on his beer. “My family was originally from Tampico, Mexico, before it flooded.”
“I live in Antarctica now that it’s free of ice. We’re just on the outskirts of the main mining station.” Lowry absently rolled her finger around the rim of her glass. “When I was a young child, my mother and I lived in Austin, Texas—not too far from Monterrey.”
Sevy’s face lit up, and his eyes finally met her gaze. “I love Austin—they have that huge South by Southwest festival for music and interactive reality.” He leaned forward. “I went there one year, and they had booths with all the new virtual reality and gaming software.” Sevy gestured violently, almost knocking his beer over. “You could try out all the different vendors’ games—it was crazy!”
“I never made it to that festival.”
“And you lived there?”
“Yeah, Lowry, what’s wrong with you?” Zoë looked askance at Lowry with a shit-eating grin.
Sevy’s wrist computer beeped. He gulped the rest of his beer and excused himself. “Gotta go.” His chair scraped the floor as he shoved it back. “See you tomorrow, Lowry!” He waved and then ran out of the bar.
“Once he’s out of his shell, he’s out of his shell—how do we put him back in?” Lowry grinned at Zoë.
Zoë raised an eyebrow. “Well, maybe you’ve found the key to his heart . . .”
“Yeah, but how big is his hard drive?”
***
“Lowry, push through it,” said Zoë, climbing effortlessly next to her on an elliptical machine.
Exercising was a requirement for all personnel on the space station. Lowry thought she was in good shape but struggled on the machine next to Zoë’s, replying between breaths, “This is a tad more strenuous than my last climb on Everest.”
“In the Marines, this is a walk in the park.” Zoë chuckled.
Lowry grimaced. “Thanks for making me feel better.”
“You’re in better shape now, an
d you’ve been here, what, almost a month?”
Zoë’s elliptical machine beeped the end of her time, and she stepped off the machine. She grabbed her towel, wiped her face, and then bent down into a deep stretch, touching the floor with the palms of her hands.
Lowry sucked in her breath as Zoë’s exercise pants crept up her calf, exposing a prosthetic leg. She and Zoë had become friends on the ISS, but Zoë had never discussed her deployments. Lowry chewed her lip and then dived into the question on the tip of her tongue. “Did you see action, Zoë?”
Zoë glanced up at her. “Two tours in the last war.” She pulled up the pant leg to reveal the dark brown form rising to just below her knee. “Lost my lower leg from a land mine. The road had been mined haphazardly, and the devices were clumped together, so detecting them was tricky. I had located one, but stepping away from that IED, I hit the one right next to it.” She tapped on the hard plastic shank, the sound echoing in the workout room. “I still have phantom pain occasionally, but overall, it works great.”
Lowry exhaled and stepped off her machine as her session ended. “I thought they had robots for mine removal.”
“We had one, but it got taken out by an enemy drone.” Zoë pulled her pant leg down over the prosthetic. “My commander told me that the road had to be cleared and our unit had to do it. Besides, he said, ‘You’re cheaper than the robot.’” She shrugged. “Luckily, the Marines have a good education program for their wounded veterans and trained me for cyber-security after my injury. The pay is great on the space station, so I took this job.”
Zoë stared dully into the mirror facing them. “I used to wear short skirts and sandals, but not now.” She smoothed back her tightly curled hair. “My counselor warned me that it’s harder on women than men to lose a limb. We are visually held to a higher standard, and this ‘flaw’ affects your sense of worthiness as a woman.”
Zoë picked up her bag. “Let’s get some steam.” They moved into the steam-room area and undressed.
“I’m amazed they have a steam-room,” Lowry said.
“They found that humans need more humidity than the electronics of the station can withstand, so they included steam-rooms. Besides, the water just recycles through it.”
Zoë touched the pad to start the steam, and they moved into the room. Steam billowed from the center of the floor. They stretched out on the benches with rolled up towels under their heads. The steam filled the room, and Lowry relaxed in the warmth. Then her eyes shot open as Zoë’s voice broke into her consciousness.
“Men see my prosthetic, and somehow, I never get to the next date.” Her voice trembled. “I go to dinner with a man and perhaps cross my legs or get out of the car. They see the prosthetic, and I can almost feel them flinch away from me.” Zoë exhaled. “You can’t imagine the pain of that moment. I know they don’t mean to be that way, but women are expected to be beautiful—and perfect.”
Through the rising steam, Lowry stared at the dim light above her head. “Why do we have to make life harder than it already is by waging insane wars?”
“My brother says the rich and powerful will always wage war. Too much money lining too many pockets.”
“You’re intelligent and a lovely young woman. At some point, you’ll find someone who’s not so shallow. I would think that military men would be empathetic?”
Zoë’s brow furrowed. “Empathy is one thing; marrying someone who is a constant reminder of your own torment is another. Normalcy is sacred to soldiers coming home from war.” Zoë pursed her lips. “Maybe when I get off this spinning hula hoop, I’ll find someone who loves me, prosthetic and all.”
She turned, smiling at Lowry. “Enough about my dismal love life—I’m tired of hearing myself talk.” Casting her hand dramatically into the air, she said, “I want to live vicariously, so tell me about yours . . . maybe you’ve already hooked up with Sevy?”
Lowry made a face. “I doubt you want to channel my love life. I’m recently divorced with the bruises to prove it. After the wedding, I filled out a rental agreement, accidentally typing ‘marred’ instead of ‘married’—a prophetic slip.” She propped herself up on her elbow and took a drag on her water bottle. “I came up here as a retreat from all that, I guess. Romance for me is in the ditch, and there’s not much hope for rescue.”
Zoë raised an eyebrow. “He wasn’t the man of your dreams?”
“Sometimes dreams turn to nightmares.”
Lowry lay back down and closed her eyes as the clouds of steam enveloped her body. She clenched her hands against the pain cutting into her heart. Turning away from Zoë, she wrapped her arms over her despair, struggling to not break down.
Whether in war or relationships, there is a seed deep in humanity—the strong dominating the weak—poisoning all it touches. Is power over another human worth more than love—or peace? Lowry breathed in the warm, moist air as a tear seeped from her eye, merging with the sweat on her face.
The Earth warmed. The ice caps melted and the rising oceans crept onto the land like a cat upon its prey. Storms swept tides farther inland, breaking down the low-lying coastal towns, and washing them away. Erosion sculpted the coastlines into a new world.
CHAPTER 4
Lowry rubbed her eyes to clear her head. For weeks, she had been immersed in mapping the surface topography of Antarctica, now unveiled to the eyes of the world. Through the satellite images, she was the first person to experience the breathtaking beauty of the unexplored land of snow-capped mountains and glacially carved valleys away from the mining station where she grew up.
Lowry leaned back in her chair, reflecting on the technology that she used for her mapping. Within the environment of the Virtual Cave, she literally dug with her hands, walked with her feet, and even flew within the data to find the signatures of water reservoirs revealing themselves with variations of color and sound.
But she was a mere human—with too much time buried in her data, desperately needing a break from her imaging project. She sipped her coffee, musing on the intricate systems of the space station, where efficiency was mandatory and humans were the weak link in the system. The monitor began to blink annoyingly as it waited for her to set up the next Landsat collection pass. With a sigh, she pressed her fingers against the side of her aching head. Technology is the master, and we’re the slaves.
Her computer asked smoothly, “Lowry, we’re approaching another pass over Antarctica—are you ready to start the next topographic scan?”
Lowry replied, “Shut up, Bob.”
The computer went silent and began a screensaver of landscapes.
Lowry looked at the screen. “Bob, did you know that because of you, we’ve lost the human race? It’s all your fault, Bob.”
“I really wouldn’t know about that, Lowry,” Bob calmly replied.
Lowry set her coffee down, mumbling, “Computers—can’t live with ’em, can’t live without ’em.”
She tapped in the parameters, coordinating the drone cameras positioned on the ground to begin synchronously videoing the terrain while the Landsat was recorded. Then she said, “Go ahead, Bob. I’m sorry I snapped at you; please start the scan.”
“It’s okay, Lowry; I understand.”
Sure, Bob.
Lowry pulled her video goggles on, streaming images from one of the drones close enough to the mining station to have a wireless signal. The drone banked over a ridge and descended into a large valley, and like a bird in flight over the land, she soared over a large river with elegant branching streams feeding it—an exquisite dendritic drainage pattern. Patches of green laced through the land: flora taking hold in the soils of Antarctica. She touched her cheek. But where was the wind on her face?
The data collection ceased as the space station flew past Antarctica and over the open ocean. She pushed her goggles onto her forehead as they glided serenely over Africa and Europe—far above the drowned coastlines and humans fleeing the influx of an uncaring ocean.
A voice came
from behind her. “Ready for lunch?” Sevy’s face hung over the wall of her cubicle.
“I guess.” She shrugged, pulling the goggles off her head.
Sevy rested his hand on top of the cubicle wall, and his wrist sported the latest e-ware watch. “That’s cool headgear—virtual?”
“Not virtual—real videos streamed in real time to sync with the satellite images I’m recording over Antarctica. I just check to make sure they’re recording properly.” She massaged her temples and stood up, stretching her body. “My brain is fried anyway—let’s go.”
“Don’t be so enthusiastic. Food’s not that bad.”
They walked down the corridor toward the food court through a gauntlet of pop music spewing from speakers. Lowry quickened her pace, but there was no hope of escape from the endless din permeating the space station.
Sevy’s pet rog—a robotic dog—leapt down the hall like a cute puppy. Sevy snapped his fingers and said, “Poppy!” The rog immediately heeled to his side. Sevy leaned down, petting Poppy as they stopped at the cafeteria door.
Poppy’s body was covered with a soft, silky material warm to the touch. Rogs were programmed to have no bad habits, no hair to shed, no need to eat nor defecate—ideal for the space station. But Lowry felt her skin crawl as the rog looked up at him with “affection.” It was all a bit antiseptic to her.
They walked into the cafeteria, waving at colleagues as they perused the food selections. Lowry supposed the designers of the space station had attempted to make the cafeteria pleasing to the eye, but to her, it looked like a food court in a mall, down to the plastic pictures of food choices. She was assaulted by the blend of smells from the myriad of multicultural foods; they were appealing one at a time, but the mix was insidious.