Microstory 2634: In the Doghouse

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Mandica is less than four weeks into her trip, yet 48 years have passed for the rest of the universe. She thinks about that sometimes. If she had never latched onto this relativistic ship, she would be 76 at this point. A couple of centuries ago, had she died at that age, people would have said that she lived a good, long life. Now 76 is still quite young, even for the undigitized. It’s not like she doesn’t accept any medical intervention. For the less enhanced, it’s still unusual to not make it to at least 100. But that means in about 15 or 20 days, she will have passed her own expected lifespan. Her parents were already pretty old when they had her, and she was only 22 when they died themselves. She spent the next six years carrying on their nomadic legacy, but alone...except for Mordred and her bot pack. It is finally time to move on from that. By the time this arkship comes to a full stop, it will be the 26th century. Who knows what the world will look like by then? She doesn’t even really know what it looks like now. Castlebourne isn’t open to the public yet. They only announced it early to build hype, and give ship travelers like her time to cover the expanse.

Most people have no use for the ships. Once Castlebourne does officially open, they will simply transmit their consciousnesses through the quantum network, and arrive in a matter of days at worst. She doesn’t know if they will have facsimile substrates waiting for them or skeletal android bodies, or what. She doesn’t pay attention to that stuff because it doesn’t apply to her. She has chosen to not be able to do it. Those are the values that her family instilled in her. You’re born, you live, you die. That is the cycle. That is how humans have been doing it for millions of years. That’s what life is. She honors her ancestors by becoming one of them one day. Going on this trip isn’t changing the plan, it’s just delaying it by a century, and making it happen on a different planet. If someone had invented faster-than-light travel like they have on the TV shows, she would have absolutely done it that way instead, and stayed on the schedule that her parents predicted for her. But this is what she has. She has a 108-year wait, experienced as 56 days. Then, for the next 80 or 90 years after that, she will lead the kind of life that she wants, and die peacefully on her terms.

Mandica set herself up with exigent alerts. While she can’t see outside—which is normally no problem, because there’s usually nothing to see—the pod has external sensors, keeping tabs on the environment. That environment is always shifting as they’re shooting through space at luminal speeds. That’s a new word she learned. Luminal is for those extremely high relativistic speeds that allow her to survive the journey in a reasonable amount of time. Any slower, and it’s not worth it given her lifespan. That gift isn’t enough now, though. There’s a breach in the hull. Nothing in the ship is going to die, but it needs to be dealt with, and they will send a bot out here to do that. Since there are live specimens on board, most of the vessel has to be spun to simulate gravity using centrifugal force. They don’t spin that whole thing, though. The spinning section is fully enclosed, and kept separate from the hull using electromagnets. The spinning cylinder is fine for now, but they can’t just leave that gaping hole there like that. Someone will come eventually.

The alert told that there was a problem, but it didn’t give her the whole story. A deeper dive into the “local news” explained it further. A micrometeoroid, probably the size of a grain of sand, managed to make it through the shielding, and puncture a hole in the front of the arkship. The EM shield surely slowed it down, after the plasma shield ionized it, but wasn’t enough to deflect it, and definitely could not have stopped it. Since the space between the spinning cylinder and the hull is also a vacuum, it was able to continue to fly backwards like a bullet. It then blasted another hole in the back as an exit wound. Right now, the automated systems are prioritizing that entry wound, because it makes them more vulnerable, but it’s only a matter of time before they head this way. It’s close enough to where Trilby attached the barnacle that a bot would spot her. She doesn’t know exactly how it will react, but it won’t ignore her. It will report the intrusion to a higher tier intelligence at the very least. She has to act.

But what can she do here? She can’t just move the barnacle somewhere else. This entire back section is exposed, and she is visible to anything nearby. She might be able to slowly walk around the engine nozzles, and hide behind them, but that’s a long-ass walk, and dangerous. Trilby said there’s a reason he chose to stick her in this spot. Even though the ship is coasting, and the engines aren’t on full right now, they still generate heat. Her suit, the tether, the barnacle; any of things could suffer damage during transit. She has to think, and she has to think fast. The port side maybe? That might be fine for now, but she’ll then be exposed to the kinds of micrometeoroids that just ruptured the hull. Again, that’s why Trilby put her right here. The way she sees it, she only has one choice at this point. It’s incredibly risky, but the worst that could happen is the bots finally do apprehend her. If she tries any alternative she could die instead.

Mandica gathers everything she can, namely the half-complement of dayfruit growers. After a quiet goodbye to her temporary home, she untethers herself from the barnacle, initiates the release procedures, and watches it fly off into the nothingness. Now she’s staring into the black. It’s haunting. Nothing on Earth is as black as this. No stars, no debris, just endless void. Everything is completely redshifted and invisible to the naked eye. They are simply moving too far away from it all. She shudders and turns away. It shouldn’t be her concern right now. There is no way to know how soon the repair bots will come. She trudges across the hull as fast as she can, which isn’t very fast. Her magboots have to be on maximum, unlike they would be if she were on the inside since a misstep out here could cost someone their life. She sees it with her flashlight now. It’s the hole. Man, is it huge. She was worried about being able to fit, but it’s not going to be a problem at all. You could send a truck through this thing if you had to.

She carefully contorts her leg to magnetize against the edge. To a giant, it would be an edge, but to her, the hull is so thick, it’s like its own wall. She walks along it until she’s fully inside. Now she’s looking at the rotating cylinder, moving at about one rotation every two minutes. It seems to be holding up. She watches it go by, looking for something—anything—to grasp onto. There, that’s it. It’s some kind of access panel. Hopefully, it grants her access to the inside, and not just wiring, or something. She leaps. The microthrusters on her PRU are designed for helium and neon, so they’re not particularly powerful, but they keep her pointed in the right direction. She grabs the handle, and holds on. Then she turns it and pulls. It’s unlocked, which makes sense, because who would they be worried about breaking in? Pirates? Insane human stowaways? She crawls up the tunnel, and comes out through a hatch in the ground, surrounded by timber wolves. “Hm. Could be worse.” It is here that she spends the next four weeks trying to figure out how she’s going to get off the ship unnoticed.

Microstory 2633: Riding the Blinds

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It’s the year 2424, and the trip to Castlebourne will take 108 years, because it is 108 light years away, and the ship will be able to travel at just under light speed. Due to special relativity, however, it will only feel like a couple of months for anyone on the ship. That preposition is more appropriate for Mandica than for anyone or anything else. They will actually be inside of it while she’ll be on the outside, like a parasite.

“That’s not the right term,” her pilot argues. “It makes it sound like you’re hurting the ship. I promise, it won’t even notice you. You’re not a parasite, it’s...” He trails off as he looks it up on his device. “Phoretic. You’re a phoresy. Yeah, that sounds better.”

“You literally called the pod The Barnacle,” Mandica argues.

“It’s a joke,” he defends.

“That hat is a joke,” she snaps back. She knows, she shouldn’t be so mean.

“Uh, it’s a trilby, and it’s what we call retro-stylish,” he boasts.

“All right, Trilby.” She notices that he seems to like that nickname. “Tell me how this works so I don’t vaporize myself in the middle of interstellar space.”

Trilby literally pulls back the curtain to show the little pod that she’ll be in. It looks like the inside of a nutshell, but only half of it. There is no other half. This will evidently be sealed against the hull, so the hull acts as the fourth wall, and if that seal ever breaks, she’ll be exposed to the vacuum of outer space. “Okay. You’ll have to be in your Integrated Multipurpose Suit when we begin, helmet and all. You can hold onto these handles so you don’t slip off. Of course, you’ll be tethered, but if you slip out during the process, the seal will snap that tether, and you’ll start to float away.”

“Got it. Hold on tight.”

“Right,” he agrees. “Once it’s sealed, I wouldn’t unseal it until you reach your destination, or you’ll be screwed. It can be resealed, but you would have to keep your grip on it for that to work, so just don’t do it. There’s no door. You can only get out by detaching from the hull. I assume you’re halfway decent with computers. Everything you need is on this console, and it will interface with your suit. It has its own powersource, but it’s minimal, so I suggest you let it siphon from the arkship. Don’t worry, it’s a small pod, and you’re only one person, so the power draw will be well within the margin of error. As long as you don’t do anything crazy, you won’t be detected.”

“Can I take my helmet off in transit, or even my suit?”

“Helmet off should be fine. This thing has its own climate control. I would leave the suit on most of the time, however. If you do remove it, do it in short bursts to let your body breathe, but don’t fall asleep like that, or anything. It’ll be a tight seal, but I won’t be there to fix any issues. It will all be up to you.” He lifts a flap on the end of the console. “Here’s a copy of the operator’s manual, in paper form. There’s obviously a virtual version of it, but this is just in case. He opens a small cupboard. It also has dayfruit growers, but I could only fit four of them, so you’ll want to supplement with the meal bars below it, and your dayfruit smoothie in your Portable Resource Unit. I don’t remember how long regular humans can go without food, so rationing will be up to you. Just be careful and pay attention to your supplies.”

Mandica sighs and looks over her little lifeboat. “Any exercise equipment? I’ve actually never been to space before today, and I spent most of the time hiding in that shipping container. But I hear that we regular humans have trouble with zero-g over long periods of time. I assume I’m subject to the inertial dampeners, or I simply wouldn’t survive high relativistic speeds at all anyway.”

Trilby nods. “The pod will leech from the inertial dampeners, but it’s weird because of how it attaches.” He points to some of the controls. “You’ll be able to tune it, however. If you just turn this dial, it will lower the effects slightly, allowing you to make the back of the pod down. Don’t be scared of it, you will not be able to turn your private dampeners so far down that you splatter against the wall. And this isn’t even the wall. Think of it as the floor. See? Here’s your bed.” He slides the bed lid away. Because of this little shuttle’s own inertial dampeners, it looks like the bed is up against the wall, but that will change once she’s attached and on the move. “You can still do exercise. Your suit has a number of programs built in, which you can peruse yourself. Just be sure to narrow the results to close-quarters, or it may try to get you to run away.”

Mandica nods repeatedly. She’s growing quite nervous. It was bad enough when he snuck her onto the space elevator, but now she will be completely alone. If this fragile thing pops off, and she manages to survive that, she won’t be able to get into the ship. She won’t be able to ask for help. Even in an emergency—even if she’s willing to get caught—the arkship may be fully automated, and help may be difficult. Some bots don’t respond to black swan events. They won’t know how to respond to her pleas. And she’s not going to ask this guy if there will be any intelligence present, because nothing should go wrong at all. She will be tucked away safely for two months, and be free of Core World rule forever. She doesn’t hate the establishment, but she wants to remove herself from it, and this is the only way. She can’t afford the energy credits for anything else.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Trilby says to her.

“Have you done this before?”

“Not this exact thing, but I’ve tested the barnacle pod. It will work, as long as you treat it right, and don’t push the wrong buttons.”

“No pressure,” she says.

He takes a chance and places a hand upon her shoulder. “You’ll do well.”

She doesn’t know him, but he’s been helping her, and risking a lot to do it, so she decides to go for it and give him a hug. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He looks over at his screen. “We’re comin’ up on it. Remember what I taught you, and for everything else, rely on your survival instincts. Digitized people don’t have those anymore, but yours will know what to do. Better put on your other two IMS layers, but first, fix your inner layer. You have it on backwards. The autozipper goes in back. Let me know when you’re ready. I have to seal the bulkhead before I open the airlock, but we’ll be able to talk on comms. I’ll stay with you until I get out of range myself, or the arkship launches, and you speed away in a flash.”

“All right.” She puts her suit all the way on, and tethers herself to the barnacle pod. He opens the airlock, and lets the pod drift out for a little bit before seizing it with his grabber claws. He maneuvers the barnacle in front of his shuttle as he makes his approach. She wants to close her eyes, but that would just be unsafe, so she watches. She looks around for any cameras, drones, or lurking spacewalkers. No one. No one will know she’s here. The claws push the pod forward, and automated systems automatically latch on. The vacuum seal engages until she’s fully secure. They spend the next few hours getting to know each other better before the arkship powers up and flies away.

Microstory 2632: Pet Project

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Mandica Kolar is a perfectly normal human, which is rare in her time. The transhumanism movement might have begun in the middle of the 20th century, but it did not gain any real traction for many decades, when the science started to catch up with the ideas. Over the next few centuries, the population of undigitized organic humans (UDOs) gradually diminished. They weren’t being killed or replaced. It was just that fewer and fewer people were deciding to tolerate natural aging limitations, aches and pains, and kind of being sidelined. They have become a silent minority. Posthumans hold most of the power now, not out of some nefarious plan, but because that is how the math works out. Whether consciously or subconsciously, some undigitized people feel that they’re being treated as pets, or maybe children. They are so fragile, and people just wanted to protect that. This mindset can be problematic because it often leads to the UDOs being patronized, but honestly, most mean no disrespect. One little plane crash or massive explosion, and a UDO would die...forever. Most everyone else is constantly backing up their consciousness to a remote server somewhere, and don’t worry about such things. In fact, their virtual immortality often makes their lives pretty boring, especially since these adaptations come with other technological improvements, leading to higher quality of life in a post-scarcity society. They have turned to entertainment, and the most popular of these involve some level of simulated danger. They can’t die for real, but they can make believe, and the best systems do better at making them forget that the stakes are genuinely quite low.

Someone is paraterraforming an entire planet for these reasons. Instead of virtual simulations, they will be physical. Some might even alter a visitor’s memories to forget who they are, making them feel like life is still precious and fleeting. Tens of thousands of domes, each with its own theme, are being constructed on the surface of Castlebourne. Mandica isn’t necessarily interested in the simulations, but she does want to leave Earth, and she happens to know of a ship that is heading in that direction. There are too many restrictions here. She doesn’t want to feel like a pet anymore. She wants to live somewhere that will let her be herself. To accomplish this, she needs to move to a Charter Planet. Lying between 50 and 200 light years from Earth, Charter Worlds are not subject to the same laws that the Core Worlds and Stellar Neighborhood systems are. They have to protect themselves, but they often do so by chartering resources from other systems. Castlebourne is set to receive a shipment of lower lifeforms from Earth. They have already been sent one arkship, so this is a second wave with additional specimens, many of which are live. It will probably be Mandica’s last chance to get to where she wants to be. Arkships are rare, and Castlebourne is lucky to get two. They may not receive anything else ever again as most other resources can be found and processed in situ. The problem is, this ship is not for her. There was no chance that they were ever going to let her on it, so she has decided to stow away.

Mandica is a nomad, but she’s still a citizen of the state, and is entitled to certain amenities. Most people in this post-scarcity society get what they need from their local Resource Allocation Committees, which they voted for. As she has no local rights or responsibilities, an At-Large Allocation Board (ALAB) decides what she gets, and what she doesn’t. The people who sit on the board are reportedly mostly former RAC members, but she has never even met even one of them. All of her dealings have been fully automated, which she prefers. She accepts the bureaucracy, but that doesn’t mean she has to participate in government. Since life is so dangerous for nomads, she never goes anywhere truly alone. She possesses a bot pack of drones to aid her in her travels, and protect her. They practically force the pack on her, but she likes animals, and they’re quite convincing, so she doesn’t mind. Others in her situation have outright refused, or disabled them permanently.

There is something else that is different when it comes to Mandica. In addition to the horse, dog, hawk, and flutterby, she’s also accompanied by an android. This is fairly rare for nomads. It’s more of a hermit thing, and of course, there is overlap, but there is a clear distinction. Hermits live alone, and reject the state’s authority, which is why most of them have gone off-world by now. Nomads, on the other hand, frequently get involved in community affairs, they just like to shift between communities at will. They don’t typically need an android for human companionship, because they’re getting plenty of socialization through more conventional—albeit ephemeral—relationships. Mandica visits populated regions as well, but she spends a lot more time in the wilderness, exploring, hiking, and just enjoying the solitude. So why bother with an android? Well, Mordred provides something she might be able to get from others, but with a lot fewer complications. He gives her the sexual satisfaction she needs without all the emotional baggage. Well...there might be a little bit of emotion involved.

“But I don’t understand why I cannot go with you.” Mordred was programmed to adore Mandica, perhaps a little too much.

“Because I need you to stay behind to fake my death,” she explains once again.

He was also programmed to be able to forget things, act a little dumb, and be generally confused. “But I love you, my love. We said we would stay together forever.”

“It was only a fantasy. I must away to start my new life. If you truly love me, you’ll set me free, erase the animals’ memories, and protect me from being discovered.”

Mordred looks down at Mandica’s bioprinted facsimile. It’s state of the art, and looks just like her, down to the scars. A dedicated medical examiner could plausibly tell the difference, but they will hopefully not even bother with a post mortem. It will be a simple fall from an extremely high cliff, which is perfectly believable, given her lifestyle, and nomads aren’t exactly top priority. “This golem of yours...does she feel as you do? Does she love me as well?”

“She feels nothing. She is not a she at all, but only a husk. Her sole job is to pretend to be me...in her death.”

“Will we ever see each other again?” he presses. “One day?”

“I told you that I would never lie to you, Mordred, and I shan’t. I’m afraid you will never see me again. As the brightest candle burns the fastest, our love must end.”

“How can I go on without you? I shall end my own life.”

“You can do that, but only after you show others that I am dead. Please, this is of the utmost importance. I cannot have them looking for me.”

“I will, my beautiful flower,” Mordred promises. “Now turn away. If I see your face for one second more, I will not be able to say goodbye. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye!” he shouts melodramatically.

“Goodbye, dear Mordred. I’ll think of you always.” Mandica walks down the trail, and heads for the launch site. Castlebourne calls to her from the distant sky.