Generations

by Francis Rosenfeld

  Sarah smiled, then looked out the window, preoccupied.

  "Busy?" Sys asked.

  "It's the StreamPath, we're adjusting the settings and charting the paths but it's going slowly, the currents are very complex," Sarah said.

  "You do know you are using Purple's communication system for travel, right?" Sys said, matter-of-fact.

  "What?" Sarah asked astounded.

  "The currents, Purple uses them to communicate between the colonies, you are kind of distorting the messages when you travel. It's not a big deal, Purple can clean them up, they just thought you should know," Sys said.

  "Well, that's..." Sarah didn't know what to say. It was one of those effects a human couldn't naturally anticipate, there was no telling how many things their group might have disturbed as they plowed ahead unaware in their pioneering efforts.

  "Purple likes you very much," Sys said like the good child it was.

  "I know," Sarah smiled. "Sarah. Sister."

  "They said something about you being one of them, or something like that. They said you remember," Sys continued.

  "Remember what?" Sarah asked.

  "They didn't say," Sys continued to brush Gua's fur, focused on removing a piece of bramble tangled in the glyph's tail. Sarah frowned. She didn't feel comfortable admitting to the externally imparted memories that sometimes made her feel as if she woke up in some one else's house without warning.

  "I guess a part of your physical make-up is integral to their collective," Seth emphasized through the interlink increasing Sarah's uneasiness.

  "I don't like talking about that, do you mind?" Sarah startled, obviously annoyed. "I am not purple, can't you understand I don't want to be two entities? I like me, I'm used to being me, I don't want to have a voting conference in my head for every decision I make. Should I have another piece of candy? Don't mind if I do! Au contraire, ma chérie, you had enough sugar already. Every single time! You wouldn't tolerate it and neither will I!" she continued, more and more upset.

  "It doesn't work like that," Sys said, as if it were common knowledge.

  "How does it work?" Sarah asked aloud, irate.

  "What is the natural background radiation on Terra Two on the twenty fifth cycle during the zenith-nadir suns configuration?" Sys asked without skipping a beat.

  "6.2 millirem at 10.1 N barometric pressure and 18% atmospheric oxygenation level" Sarah answered without thinking. "Now how in the world would I know that?" she exclaimed.

  "That's how it works," Sys continued simply.

  "Me. Purple?" said Sarah, almost amused. "It sounds more like an external hard drive with data," the redhead continued.

  "Not only data," Sys continued, and Sarah suddenly remembered a very complex three-dimensional weaving of currents and merging patterns, something she vaguely recognized although she couldn't say why. The warmth of an unidentified positive emotion swept over her psyche.

  "Pretty, isn't it?" Sys asked smiling.

  "I'm not sure I'm particularly comfortable with that," Sarah objected somewhat unconvinced.

  "Nonsense!" Seth interjected. "Knowledge is knowledge. Would you feel more righteous if you pored over a whole library shelf for a week to get this information?" she continued practically. "If I were you I'd ask them about the meaning of life," she cajoled.

  "They don't know. Darn it!" Sarah exclaimed aggravated. "I can't turn this thing off! What if they ask me to do something bad?"

  "Break Sys!" Purple ordered.

  "Right, like that's ever going to happen!" Sarah answered sarcastically.

  "And there you go," Sys completed her presentation.

  ***

  Sarah spent some time in silence and solitude while Sys was outside playing with the other children. Um's creative endeavors had resumed, a bit toned down by Seth's plea to keep the environment recognizable at all times.

  Watching um through the open window Sarah wondered how it could act so normal and child-like around its friends, this little springy curled encyclopedia on legs who couldn't sit still for even a second and was always searching for something new to sate its curiosity.

  The thought of her microscopic inhabitants preoccupied Sarah. Not in the way she pondered the fate of her immortal soul, which was defined by clear rules and had predictable outcomes. There were no rules about her interaction with Purple who obviously loved her, she could do absolutely no wrong as far as they were concerned. They were not of a different, superior essence like angels but flesh and consciousness just like her, with moods and flaws, creatures of dust prone to error, just like her, even though their dust was older than light itself.

  Their presence didn't daunt her like eternal beings would and Sarah forgot most of the time that she was communicating with creatures who witnessed the birth of her universe. She wondered if they knew more about what was before or outside of it, or if there was an outside at all. Sarah had trouble visualizing a universe that stretched out infinitely in all directions.

  "How does one hold on to two different kinds of eternity?" Sarah asked herself, but her lesser, material immortal self didn't seem to interfere with her spiritual forever self, not interfere but not interested either, as if the concept of religion never occurred to Purple.

  "Do you have a belief system?" Sarah asked, almost afraid to listen to the answer.

  "God." said the immortals.

  "What is your God like?" Sarah asked.

  "God." they answered.

  "Do you have a soul?" Sarah asked.

  "Purple. Immortal. No. Transfer." they whispered.

  "Of course," Sarah thought, "how stupid of me, why would you need one, you are one, and matter at the same time."

  "Don't sweat it, cat-brains," sister Joseph interrupted the conversation. "Mind your own soul, that's the one going on the scales in the thereafter if we ever get to experience that blessed moment. To be honest with you this whole concept of spending eternity with all of you is starting to get on my nerves."

  "We don't know we're going to live forever," Sarah doubted.

  "Really? You can seriously say that to me when your kin is thirteen billion years old?" asked sister Joseph rhetorically.

  "That doesn't mean I am going to go on and on, maybe there is a limit to how many times human cells can be repaired," the redhead commented.

  "No, there isn't," Sys offered from the playground. Sarah looked at um and noticed it had built a zip line from one end of the beach to the other and the children were sliding fast above the tree canopy with excited whoops and cheers. Jimmy was leading the pack and jumped enthusiastically on the two story high air mattress at the end of the course.

  "God help us all!" sister Joseph cried out, both shocked and annoyed. "Maybe it is a blessing we can't die!"

  Sarah stopped to evaluate exactly how long eternity was and what she was going to do with the rest of her time. Human brains are wired to plan and execute for only a few decades; infinite wisdom doesn't waste capacity on systems not meant to last very long.

  ***

  "How is the language coming?" Sarah asked Seth who had let herself in the apothecary and was studying the syrupy green liquid in a round-bottom boiling flask.

  "It's an oxidation-proof coating for metal," the redhead clarified. Seth sniffed the narrow neck of the flask and grimaced because of the pungent smell.

  "Acetone?" she asked.

  "Among other things," the redhead replied.

  "It's going well, quite developed," Seth answered the original question. "Too bad some of us still use one word sentences as a matter of course, we'll never convince the immortals to follow grammar rules," she said with reproach.

  Sarah smiled, guilty. The leader continued.

  "Actually I came here to get your opinion on this," Seth pulled a thick book from under her coat and handed it to Sarah. The pages were filled with strange cursive flourish, the rows were flowing streams picking up speed around the stones in a river bed, mingling and crossing each other without intersecting, like
warp in a weave.

  "You didn't find the symphonic pieces challenging enough?" Sarah joked, looking at the gravure language.

  "Look closer," the leader coaxed her. The images were printed on the sheets but had depth and moved with perspective, revealing more overlapping layers underneath.

  "It's a three-dimensional music score, I'm trying to get a more accurate representation of the symbols," she commented.

  "What was wrong with normal music, at least you can play four lines of harmony at the same time?" Sarah asked.

  "Not with different meanings," the leader argued.

  "Do you understand any of this scribble?" Sarah asked incredulously.

  "Parts of it, I don't think we can grasp all the messages at the same time, it's very complex," Seth said.

  "You have forever to think about it, you can pace yourself," sister Joseph commented from the field where she still enjoyed planting tomatoes with her own hands even though the whole process was now completely automated.

  "She almost makes it sound like punishment," Seth frowned.

  "Talk to me in a few hundred years about that," Sarah answered. A cloud of worry passed over her eyes but was instantly dispersed by the delight of Sys's arrival to the apothecary. Um sat down at one of the tables and lifted the perfume samples to her tiny quivering nose.

  "What is punishment?" Sys asked.

  "Give me strength!" sister Joseph retorted, revolted.

  ***

  To prove that expectations are defined by perspective the children had no misgivings about the infinite span of their lives or worries about the safety of their immortal soul, they were born to this strange life and embraced it wholeheartedly. Lily, Jimmy and Jenna led unruly packs of children through the rainforest or rides on the currents (yes, overprotective parents and teachers finally yielded to their tireless demands) disappearing for hours at a time in this enchanted land one third virtual reality, one third transformed matter and one third archipelago of paisley islands under a coffee colored sky studded with artificial stars.

  After a while nobody, not even the sisters could remember what was real and what was not because even when they turned off the VR compilers Sys's creations stood as material and undeniable as the rest of the environment; many of them bore uncanny resemblances to the enchanted emerald cave program or the training documentaries about the cultivation of soybeans, so there really was no telling whether what they saw was original, a photonic illusion or reconstituted matter.

  To make everybody's life tolerable the sisters agreed to define as real whatever they could see in front of their eyes at any point in time, drawing the line at changing artifacts or landscapes of great sentimental value. Since some of those too were accidentally modified and later recomposed to the last detail by the remorseful um nobody could swear they held the original objects they brought with them from Earth, thus breaking the last bond that kept them attached to the cradle of humanity.

  Some of the children had visited Earth, hyperspace travel was commonplace, but the youngsters found the mother planet too cold, too bright, too old, with too many restrictions and too much land between the oceans. Its vegetation looked stunted and meager to the dwellers of luxuriant paradise and the solitaire yellow sun hurt their eyes and bored them senseless with its predictable path across the sky. Their little bodies felt heavier than lead in the stronger gravitational field that rendered their rambunctious muscles clumsy and awkward as if loaded with loose bags of potatoes that shifted their center of gravity constantly and without warning. After a few educational trips to the graviton energy fields and the orbital greenhouse labs they started missing home and daydreamed about the enticing patterns of the ocean currents and the chocolate raspberry sunrises with shiny metallic containers bedazzling the sky.

  Even the sisters had to admit, if maybe not out loud, that they weren't used to Earth anymore. Two hundred years is a long time after all. They missed their home while away, the lush green of the fields, the piercing turquoise of the ocean, the crazy suns, the fragrant cats, and especially the warmth of the equatorial climate that soothed their bodies like a spa. What Sarah found hardest to admit was that she missed Purple. She missed it as if it were a very dear friend, as if she were separated from a part of herself.

  Chapter Ten

  Of the Meaning of Life

  "Watching the herbs grow?" Seth joked. Sarah was standing in one of the window alcoves of the communal kitchen watching little rays of sunshine move abruptly like spotlights over the lush greenery of the herb garden. The vegetable beds were so finely manicured they looked almost painted in shades of green, magenta, rose and purple, accented by tiny catmint and thyme flowers.

  A little wicker basket filled with lemon balm, marjoram, rosemary and lavender was sitting on the corner of the table and the greenery was wilting a little in the warmth of the afternoon.

  "Don't you need to put those in water?" Seth continued. Sarah turned around as if awakened from a dream.

  "No need, I was planning on drying them," she answered with an enigmatic smile. She kept watching the greenery with an enchanted look on her face, following the buzz of bees around the blooming mint that draped over the heated flagstones of the pathway like a fragrant blanket.

  "Are you on kitchen duty?" Seth asked.

  "One would hope, given that she is in the kitchen," mumbled sister Roberta from behind the stove. She was struggling with a large pot of beans and glared at the two, frustrated. "Do you mind? A little help?" Seth and Sarah jumped to assist in moving dinner from the stove to the countertop.

  "This could use more rosemary," Sarah commented with her mouth full.

  "Are you here in an advisory capacity? Where is the pot roast?" Roberta admonished her.

  "Haven't started it yet," Sarah smiled. "It's still in the pantry, marinating."

  "Do we plan on having any of it tonight?" Roberta asked. Sarah didn't answer, but picked up the pot roast from the pantry, added a few fresh herbs and a little pepper and placed it in the oven.

  "What happened? You look like you're in another world." Seth asked, amused.

  "Have you noticed how beautiful mint flowers are?" Sarah said, still absent-minded.

  "What's with her?" Seth asked sister Roberta, who shrugged and continued cooking, just as puzzled by the musing redhead as the leader.

  "Hi, mom," Sys zoomed through the kitchen, sniffed the wilting herbs and sat down at one end of the table. "What's for dinner?"

  "What do you care?" sister Roberta asked, but quickly lowered her gaze under Sarah's reproachful eye. "Pot roast and beans. Well, at least the beans are for sure." A delightful aroma of roast meat came out of the oven, as if to contradict her.

  "Hi, sweetheart!" Sarah's eyes lit up at the sight of um. "Did you have a good day at school?"

  "Mhh," Sys tentatively mumbled an answer. Um busied itself with a three dimensional puzzle she made up on the spot, trying to draw very little attention to itself. Um liked to keep quiet until the sisters forgot it was in the kitchen and watch them go about their daily chores unnoticed like a little ghost. Sometimes it curled up on top of the sill of one of the deep window alcoves and watched the play of light and shadow on the greenery, or the quick rain shower fascicles playing their unexpected dances on the overheated herbs.

  As Sarah spied um from the corner of her eye she almost felt as if she was watching herself transposed two hundred years into the future, finding peace and shelter in the arched opening, safe and at home. Sarah smiled again. The stone floors of the kitchen bounced off echoes of footsteps and chitchat and the aroma of food mingled with the fragrance of the aromatic herbs as the afternoon wound down.

  "So, what's with the reverie?" sister Roberta didn't let off. She was a curious person and wouldn't let go of an unusual happenstance without a satisfactory explanation. Sarah kept chopping rosemary and marjoram for the beans, paused to gather her thoughts and answered.

  "You know, with everything that happened during all this time I
can still see my aunts' refectory and kitchen in every last detail when I close my eyes. It looks very much like this one, actually, garden and all," she concluded. "You wouldn't think I'd get so much alien DNA and still stay me," she continued with a slightly tired gaze.

  "And why is that supposed to be a good thing?" asked sister Joseph through the interlink.

  "Alien is in the eyes of the beholder," commented sister Roberta. "I think on this planet the aliens are us. Have you made any progress with the language?" she asked Seth.

  "Yes," the latter replied, without elaborating. "Have you made any progress with the StreamPath?" she retorted.

  "Yes," sister Roberta replied, without elaborating.

  "Well, it's good you've been talking. Have you made any progress with dinner?" sister Joseph mocked through the interlink.

  "Yes," the three replied, without elaborating.

  "Is it burned? I don't want to get my hopes up," sister Joseph optimistically anticipated.