“No… I have something called HBS… Don’t worry, it isn’t contagious… My nerves don’t work like other people’s is all. It’s all in my genes.” He laughed at his double entendre, though he doubted many of the crew would gather the second meaning. That was more information than Jacob wanted to share, but during his time on the ship, he’d learned to trust the crew more than most other people. Small ship, tight quarters, few other humans… the conditions bred a need for trust.
The people on the other side of the line might one day need to risk their lives to save their skin. With only a crew of nine, he grew to trust the two other people who worked his shift.
“So that means your shit downstairs don’t work?” Ava asked with a chuckle in her voice.
Allen growled, “Show some respect, woman.”
Jacob laughed before asking, “You lookin’ for a date?” It was the response he’d learned long ago when the impolite question was asked. It seemed to shut down the follow-on stupid questions about other bodily functions.
He should have known better with Ava.
Her reply came back just as quick in a sing-song voice, and with no shyness. “Maybe…”
Shit, Jacob thought. That was the first time someone called his bluff. Now he might need to find out if he could lie with a woman after all. In theory, he should be able to. He still had some control over his legs, just not enough to achieve his feet and walk without help. His junk should work as well as any other man’s. The problem is he had never let anyone close enough to test the theory. A wheelchair seemed to be the best kind of birth control for a man.
<=OO=>
AD 2050 Kuiper Belt – John Huss
Elliot sat alone in his workstation, diagnostics running on the efficiency of the connection between the human mind and AI. It was boring work, a task more suited for a trained monkey, but the data would be sent to the home station for analysis. Work Elliot was capable of doing but had been deemed outside his pay grade.
He remained happy to still have a place on this crew. Too many positions had been automated. Every day, more humans became obsolete. If this experiment worked, the day might come when humans no longer risked their lives in space. Ships staffed by AI/human-interfaced, labeled UI, craft would take over the exploration and exploitation of the solar system. Humans would be out of work.
In a way, Elliot worked towards his own obsolescence.
The image of a teenaged man, dressed in the ship’s uniform of gray coveralls, long dreadlocks held back with a bright red leather strip popped into view.
For the first time, John projected his image into the chamber filled with the proprietary Zen Mist concoction. The chamber gave the man inside the ship a holographic three-dimensional representation of himself to present to the humans he wished to interact with. The holo-tubes were placed at strategic locations throughout the ship. Places where people might congregate, bridge, mess, and engineering, the most likely spots for interaction.
Elliot had never seen the man inside the machine use the contraption before. He’d even checked the logs. The chambers had never been activated. Elliot double-checked, then triple-checked the unit’s operation. The projectors remained in full working order, if unused.
The computer tech saw no reason to ask John why he never used the containers. He left it up to one of the many oddities of being a disembodied brain inside a machine. The list of oddities seemed to grow daily.
So now, when the full-sized body sprang into life next to Elliot, he nearly jumped out of his workstation.
“Sorry… It was never my intention to startle you like that.” John’s image faded.
“No… no… It’s all right, I just didn’t expect you to show up, all at once… so fast… It surprised me.” Elliot righted himself in the chair, doing his best to regain his composure.
John’s head came back into view. “Is this better?”
Elliot shook his head. “Not really… I think the crew would accept your whole body… more than your disembodied head. I’m just saying perhaps a little slower integration into the chambers would be better… It gives people a chance to know you are there, rather than a jump scare.”
The image came into view much slower this time. “Please tell me it isn’t too weird. I feel like a ghost using this thing.” The young black man looked down at his projection.
Elliot wasn’t sure how, what, or if John could see himself. “No… not at all.” Elliot swiveled back to examine the creation more closely, comparing it to the mental image he retained from hours of studying the oil painting of the man in his older form. “Is this what you looked like in real life?”
John nodded. “At least while I was young. I was much older when they… when I decided to reach for the stars.” The image held his arms wide. “In my youth, I was a bit of a rebel…”
Elliot chucked, “Weren’t we all? Yet you became a successful businessman.” He motioned with his head to the oil painting.
“Yes… most of my friends told me I sold out.” The image cleared his throat, almost human-like. “I guess I showed them. I will still be alive and well after they are long dead.”
“You had a great run of it after all… It is my understanding you made it to over one hundred.” Elliot checked a few readings to make sure the chamber wasn’t taxing the system. With a few taps, he started the system diagnostics. “We can’t all keep the indiscretions of youth going into middle years. My father would say… we all need to grow up at some point.”
John sucked the hologram air between his teeth then added, “One hundred isn’t what it used to be.” He motioned to the painting on the wall. “I often wonder if my younger self would agree with what I had… have become…”
“I doubt the ignorance of youth would understand the decisions made by the more—”
“Old.”
“I was going to say experienced.”
“Same difference… Tell me. I have done a few calculations, and I have discovered this craft is greatly overstaffed. The ship needs only a crew of six, yet we carry twenty-five souls onboard. Do you know any reason why?”
“As an experiment, the crew is mostly here to determine the efficacy and practicality of the new UI ships,” Elliot lied. He knew the real reason for such a large crew was only partially there to monitor the experiment. The major reason for the extra bodies was, in case of total system failure, they would take over control of the ship systems.
John didn’t question the reason. “Ah, my judge and jury as it were…”
“You knew this going in. Even as a brilliant businessman, you have no experience running a spacecraft. The company would not place you in a multimillion-dollar ship and set you free.”
“Hence, the firewalls blocking our access to the major systems of the ship.”
Elliot paused for a moment before asking, “Our?”
“Sorry… the integration between the AI and myself is… We have no pronouns to properly describe how we feel right now.”
“I didn’t mean to question. It just seems a little strange to hear people talking about themselves in the third person. Perhaps the term nous would work.”
“French for us?”
“Yes.”
The pause was slight. In machine time, Elliot knew it was ages while John contemplated the new descriptive word. “I like it.” The next pause was even longer.
Elliot watched as furrows appeared between the brows on the projection. The detail of human interaction was amazing.
“What do the others of the crew think of me?” John asked.
The question caught Elliot by complete surprise. “I’m not sure what you mean…”
A series of news headlines flashed on the screen before Elliot. Each one more hysterical than the last, all decrying the AI and human augmentation and the dangers they create to the human race.
Elliot shook his head. “You knew all this going in. The people of Earth are a skittery lot. You lived through this ancient history more than I did…”
“I know about Earth… but how does the crew feel about me?” The words came broken, like fear drove the question.
“I’m sure I don’t know…” Elliot lied once again.
Despite extensive testing and background checks for the crew, he knew more than a few members whispered concerns about the new use of UI and the dire effects the ships might have on humankind. He didn’t know of any plot to sabotage the experiment, but somehow John must have picked up on the feeling of unease on the ship. They sailed into uncharted space, metaphysically as well as physically.
“Maybe if you interacted with the crew more… like you are with me, they would be less inclined to—”
“Fear me?” John cut him off.
The words caught Elliot by surprise. “No. I was going to say question the experiment.”
John nodded. The change of subject surprised Elliot. “I need control of the spiders. I detect a subsystem failure outside the skin of the ship.”
Elliot shook his head. “You know that is outside current control parameters. Tell me where it is, and I will direct maintenance to see to it.”
Once John controlled the spiders, he would not need any of the humans. Several safeguards had been placed that required a human touch to manually switch positions. The spiders were there for when the ship might run without humans on board.
Elliot was certain that would be the end of human space travel.
The words came with a close approximation of a sigh. “Starboard forward, centerline thruster is leaking. The escaping gas is causing a course drift of point-oh-oh-one degrees per second.”
Elliot shook his head. “That is nonconsequential… the navigator will correct the error with each system update.”
“But I can make it more… perfect.”
“The world never needs to be too perfect. Sometimes just good enough will do.”
Curtly, John said, “I disagree.” He cut off and disappeared in one swift action.
Chapter 02:
AD 2100 Earth Western-Alliance – San Francisco
Over the years, private ground transportation became a luxury few could afford. It wasn’t only the monetary cost of traveling alone, it was the more painful risk of life and limb. The very act of riding alone in any transportation marked an individual as a user. A person willing to murder the planet to boost their sense of self-worth. In many eyes, users should be put to death to protect Mother Earth. No matter the century or the number of people on the planet, the fanatical people seemed to thrive.
Any person caught entering or exiting personal transportation ran the risk of being doxed via social media. An easy target for New Beginnings, Earth First, AFL, ELF, and an alphabet of other extremist organizations, both from the political right and left. Zealots had never met a political agenda they wouldn’t commandeer.
Never mind if the vehicle was made from recycled materials. The pollution-free electric motors hummed on the bulletproof transport, batteries charged by renewable energy, all made by a European combine with an international reputation for quality. Simple things like facts mattered little to the ecoterrorists that prowled the civilization Lea lived in.
Out of a nervous habit, Lea checked her pale makeup once more. The creams did a wonderful job of hiding the fine lines the past thirty-nine years had etched into her face. Dye made her hair any color in fashion at the time, anything to hide the telltale silver.
Soon she would need to make a trip to a certain Southeast Asian country known for their advancements in antiaging treatments. She didn’t need to bathe in the blood of virgins to look younger, but she would…
The three-pointed star emblazoned on the grill became a glaring symbol of excess to the ecoterrorist groups of the world. A target most would never pass up. A perfect bullseye, dead center of the car, easy to aim for.
Cream-colored leather seats caressed Lea in luxury. The disguised speakers in the car played a melodic instrumental. Across from her sat an unused, fully stocked bar, all to keep the passengers comfortable on the long leisurely ride.
Lea was in no mood for the lavish journey. Arriving in the city by ground transport greatly increased the chances her car and person would be searched. For that reason alone, she brought no firearms with her. With the Western-Alliance’s draconian laws concerning gun ownership, it wasn’t worth the risk. The lack of a proper weapon made her feel… naked.
Knowing the state of the city streets, she left an hour earlier than required. She wanted time to recon the building and the area surrounding the structure before she risked her life attending any gathering. Often, she didn’t know the people she worked for. That was part of her job, discretion and confidentiality. A huge part of her marketing campaign.
She risked a glance outside the thick, sealed window to her right. Below the orange bridge railing and through the smog, she spotted the sea wall that protected most of San Francisco from the Pacific Ocean. Crews were busy reinforcing the uppermost portions of the barrier. Anything to keep the breaking waves out of the city.
When the seas began to rise, an intelligent race might have changed the way they lived, taken drastic steps to save themselves from the inevitable destruction.
Humankind did nothing of the sort.
If anything, they doubled down on their collective insanity, using technology and geoengineering to try to mitigate the worst climate change had to offer. Each failed attempt only brought on the next insane idea to save the world.
The audacious plans all failed. CO2 scrubbers, solar blankets, mechanical trees, even the sea walls proved to be too little too late. The Earth couldn’t take the pollution, runaway population, and overwhelming strain on the ecosystem. Something needed to give, or the Earth would become uninhabitable.
More and more people left the countryside and flooded into the cities for opportunity and safety. They found neither. The local city governments were never prepared to handle the influx of migrants. Slums became overcrowded, illness spread, but still the people came.
The impending doom provided ammunition for various cults and ecowarriors to spring into being. When words failed, many of the groups turned to naked aggression. Violence, the oldest form of protest, came back into vogue. Banned in most areas, old copies of The Anarchist Cookbook were passed around, arming new generations of the disenfranchised.
The most dangerous of the groups pushed for negative population growth as its main objective. Over the years, they proved they were more than willing to help the depopulation along. Chemical, biological attacks, and public bombings became their calling card. SELP, they called themselves. A fragmented collection of Earth first groups. The acronym held many meanings, depending on who you spoke with. Most believed the letters stood for Save Earth Lower Population. The name didn’t matter, really. The deadliest terror attacks over the past fifty years had been linked or outright claimed by self-proclaimed members of SELP.
The human intervention didn’t slow the destruction of the environment. Despite the corporate claims of manifest destiny or anthropocentrism, humans were not the axle of the universe.
To protect itself, the Earth fought back. Each week, some new dire prediction came over Lea’s newsfeed. Not that the general population much cared. When a person worried if they would survive to the next dole payment, some long-forgotten illness ravaging the far-off land of I-Don’t-Care wouldn’t hit their radar. Most people just had too much to worry about today. Tomorrow would need to take care of itself.
Lea craved a smoke, but she knew as soon as a match touched the tip of a cigarette, the alarm would sound and the fire suppression system would fill the car. Damn the nanny state and their rules.
Dropping down to the old 101, Lea Roy leaned back and watched the homeless who littered this part of the city slip past. The parks of the Presidio had been changed into a massive tent city. Lea was certain if the roadway hadn’t been elevated, her transport would have been attacked in this slum city. There was simply too much want for the common man to not lash out. Yet the
common man kept shitting out children like the doom would never reach their doorstep. Idiots remained the largest demographic of the world.
There was always the hope. A few every year made the good news section of the web. Some feel-good story on how a child pulled themselves up by their own bootstraps and turned a lifetime of want into opportunity. The fake news always seemed to forget the fact that for every one that somehow made it out of the shithole, thousands more struggled to survive the squalor with little to no hope to rise above the crushing poverty.
In this cesspool, torment fomented rebellion.
Tags of every shape and size adorned the accessible vertical surfaces. Old favorites like the circle A, Ⓐ, mixed with an ever-growing crop of new symbols calling for change and rebellion. The world died, and the people at the lowest layer of society felt the effects first. The fear oozed from the gutters to strike out at the rich.
She was used to seeing the dregs, the worst the cites of the world had to offer. That didn’t mean she liked the huddled masses. Tolerated was a better word. The last thing she wanted to do was return to the wretched refuse her planet offered. Better to die alone in a mansion than a shanty surrounded by… people.
Long gone was the famed San Francisco of yesteryear. Now it was a hell pit like every other city on Earth, waiting for the inevitable disintegration.
Times like these reminded her why she preferred the foil-wrapped sterility of space. The stations in the belt had their own problems, but they were a different sort to the social decay left on Earth.
On the corner stood a man, both eyes missing, dressed in white robes. He held high a sign, “Them are coming.” It looked written in blood. Lea cringed at the sight of the empty sockets nearly as much as the grammar error. The poor and ignorant were always willing to fall into the claws of some cult.
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