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Chapter Three
The Dark Sleep
Skip withdrew once again from the humans, this time motioning Sandra and Woody to join he and Rusty on the bridge. As the androids waited for the humans to respond, Abe turned to Max, who now, because of Sheila’s continued lack of resolve, was, at least in spirit, second-in-command. Max had given up trying to reason with Nicole, his assistant, and the other faint-hearted members of the crew. While Said’s dark mood was difficult to fathom, Elroy, Hans, and Ling were easy to read. They had, Max detected, the classic symptoms of paranoia and borderline psychosis. Nicole was jabbering incoherently to Sheila, who jumped up and ran to her quarters as if she might escape. Carla was cursing under her breath again, as Ingrid prayed. Each of the four women dealt with their emotions in their own way. Motioning for Gandy, Mbuto, Carla, and Ingrid, who were trying very hard to be brave, Abe took them aside with Max and himself to give them his final thoughts.
“Well, it’s come down to this.” He sighed raggedly.
“Like everyone else, I’m devastated by this turn of events. Now I just feel tired. If the others decide to mutiny, I can’t
control them. They’ll face the
consequences. Our caretakers mean
business. They’re much stronger than us. Said, more than anyone else, understands
this. We were warned of space
psychosis, but the calculations were wrong. They claimed that the chances for it to occur after cryogenic
sleep was infinitesimal (a one percent chance), and it looks like even I’m
feeling its effects. All we can do folks,
is hide it from the others.”
“I agree.” Max exhaled wearily. “What
else can we do? But how do we talk them
into returning willingly to their chambers and the dark sleep, this time for
perhaps centuries. Look at their faces:
it’s as if they’re facing a death sentence.
I heard Elroy threaten to slit his wrists rather than go on
indefinitely.”
Abe shrugged. “Given the facts, let’s
hope most of them come around. Those
that don’t will have to be drugged. I’m
certain Nicole and Sheila will have to be sedated. Elroy and Hans might put up a fight. Said will probably have to be dragged bodily to his fate. If they don’t do it willingly, there’s no
other way.”
******
With that said, Abe gathered the ship’s company
together. While the androids looked on
quietly from the bridge, the captain once again stated the case that Skip had presented
so well, but in a more paternal way. In
addition to the hopelessness of their situation and the foolishness of staying
awake, he explained, he added his own estimation of their caretakers, which
caused outbursts in the group.
“I’ve thought about this a lot,” he
began thoughtfully. “…. What is motivating the andies? I couldn’t understand why they didn’t warn
us. As soon as we lost communications,
they could’ve awakened at least the captain.
But to what good would this have been?
Skip and his group, though there weren’t details of the event,
understood immediately what had happened.
For years it had been building up: the final conflict. The sudden break in communication meant only
one thing. After checking the database
countless times, myself, I know for a fact there’s no record whatsoever of
communication with Earth after Decemeber 20th of the third
year. There never will be either. The people of Earth suffered a catastrophic
even three years after launch. Because
the colonists and members of the space station were called back to Earth
shortly before this catastrophe, they were wiped out too. We might hope that our friends and relatives
survived the holocaust, but we’ll never know.” “…. And so my friends,” his tone
softened. “I’m asking all of you to be reasonable, sensible, and brave, and
return, without incident, to your chambers.
Some of you must set good examples for other crewmembers. For those who fight the process, you will be
physically forced and drugged, if necessary, to return to hibernation. Please don’t fight it. You’ve gone through it before. You can do it again. The fact is, considering the crisis, you
have no choice!”
“No,” shrieked Nicole, “it’s bad
enough to hibernate for seventeen years.
This might be forever. The dark
sleep’s like death—sleep without dreams!”
“Yes, oh yes,” Sheila, who had returned reluctantly
from her quarters, muttered inconsolably, “…. it’s darkness and death. Forever is a long time. What if they never find us a home? It’ll be like dying if we don’t wake up.”
“Stop it!
Stop it!” scolded Abe. “You want to be manhandled and drugged before
processing? Our caretakers mean
business. You don’t want that!”
“Uh huh!” Nicole nodded hysterically. “I do! I do!”
“No you don’t,” Abe frowned at her. Looking at Sheila with contempt, he chided
her severely now “What kind of officer
are you? You’re crewmates don’t want to
see this? You’re supposed to be my
executive officer, Sheila. Show some
backbone! Set an example for the crew!”
I’m sorry!” Sheila looked pitifully up at him. “Your
right, I’ll do just that. I’ll set an
example.” “…. Just so I wake up!” she added in a small voice.
Nicole rocked back and forth again, clutching
herself. As Abe stood contemplating his
co-pilot and second-in-command, Sheila dropped her face into her hands and
bawled. Said, he noticed, looked up at
the bridge that moment, contemplating the androids, Elroy and Hans stared
silently into space, and Ling Soon also wept.
As he had hoped, however, Gandy, Mbuto, Carla, and Ingrid sat calmly in
their seats, as though they had accepted their fate.
“Captain, let’s wait awhile,” Elroy spoke up
finally. “Maybe it is a malfunction of some kind and things aren’t so bad on
Earth. Said’s right. I don’t trust those andies. They just want to take over the ship.”
“Ya, I agree,” Hans nodded vigorously.
“This is big risk—stupid gamble. When
sleeping, what will happen? Nothing but
unconsciousness—endless sleep. The
nearest likely worlds are light years away, with no proof of oxygen on any of
them. I’m telling you, captain. This is long shot. Phoenix might travel forever!”
“Shut up—both of you!” Abe lost his
temper. “Get it through your thick skulls; there’s nothing else we can
do!”
Looking up at him, half of the crew,
began wringing their hands, shaking their heads, and mumbling under their
breaths in despair. With the exception
of Carla, the other crewmembers seemed to be following Ingrid’s example and
praying. Even Max closed his eyes now
and cringed at the thought. Abe didn’t
know what else to say to those crewmembers in such a panicked state. Considering the mental strain this was
having on everyone, what would immediately save his crewmembers and himself
was, in fact, hibernation. Space
psychosis, already in its early stages for many of them, could prove
disastrous, even deadly on the ship, until they were all back in cryogenic
slumber once more.
At this point, seeing half of the crew reaching that
dangerous point, the androids took what Abe’s military mind saw as a pre-emptive
strike. In an effort to prevent a case
of space psychosis and also set an example, the androids took the step Skip had
warned them about. Upon a silent signal
to the android medics, a mere nod from Skip, Sandra and Woody stepped forward,
to remove the person among them closest to a psychotic lapse. Seeing the medics approach, Nicole shook her
head, chanting, “No! No! No!” The
medics stood there before her, as if waiting for her to go peaceably, then,
when she refused, her legs going limp in protest, they lifted her up by her
armpits and dragged her from the ship.
“We’re sorry!” Sandra apologized. “This is for her
own good!”
As they carried her to the space station, Max almost
broke down when he heard her shrieks.
As a death row inmate of the twentieth century being escorted forcibly
to execution, Nicole was certain this was the end. Then suddenly, after she was given the sedative, silence returned
to the corridor of the space station.
Sensing that they might be next, Elroy and Hans jumped up and raced
toward the staircase to the docking area, but were quickly cut-off at the
entrance by Skip. As Rusty restrained
Ling, Sheila managed to stay put under Abe’s restraining hand. Upon hearing, the commotion of Ling and the
cornered men, however, Sheila rolled up into a fetal position on the deck and
sobbed.
Though Nicole’s treatment seemed cruel, she would
have gone insane if the medics hadn’t intervened. As Abe explained this simple fact and attempted again to console
the crew, Elroy, Hans, and Ling were under guard. Skip and Rusty stood, arms folded, until Sandra and Woody
returned, ready to restrain them if they so much as budged. While Ingrid uttered an eloquent prayer that
sounded almost like the Last Rites, Carla sat there stoically, as did Gandy,
Mbuto, and Max. Sheila, who remained
curled up on the deck, was simply ignored.
When Sandra and Woody returned finally from the cryogenic chambers,
Woody explained in a business-like tone, that Nicole, using special equipment,
had been purged of her stomach and colon contents while she was unconscious—a
process the others could only imagine.
Rather than being knocked out with drugs, Elroy, Hans, and Ling were
given one more chance to go peaceably.
The thought of Nicole’s ordeal and what was in store for his crew shook
Abe as he looked down at his crew.
“…. My shipmates,” his voice broke, as he gathered
his thoughts, “after a little prick in the arm, you’ll go asleep and before you
know it you’ll be awake again. That’s
how it is with hibernation. Time is
irrelevant. A day, a year, or a hundred
years are like the blink of an eye.
Stop fighting it. You heard poor
Nicole. Is that how you want to be
processed and enter your chambers, kicking and screaming like children?”
“You’re stellarnauts—act like it!” He raised his arms and looked around the
table. “Before you know it, you’ll be awake again, setting at the table, ready
to explore a new world!”
For many, his words fell on deaf ears. They had seen what happened to Nicole. No one else wanted to be prematurely ushered
into hibernation. Yet, despite the
threat, it was difficult for some of them to control their emotions. Hysteria and paranoia, the first stages
before psychosis seemed impossible to dispel.
When the atmosphere remained thick with gloominess, despair, and
foreboding, Abe was cut short by Sandra.
As she placed her arm around his back, her flashing eyes and gentle
movements seemed to offset her blank Barbie doll expression. Briefly, her touch was almost maternal as it
must have had been when he was awakened that first time. What he vaguely recalled about those moments
when cognition set in, was how much she reminded him of Rosalie, the girl he
left behind on Earth. Like the others,
he was going under again, and he was afraid.
When he awakened once more, he would look up and see that lovely face
again and remember only her resemblance to Rosalie. Now, as he looked into Sandra’s face, he could almost picture
that moment of wakefulness that was, as Max put it, like being born. This creature had been his midwife, the one
who extracted him from the womb, a function she would perform again. Unlike before, when he cringed at the
thought of his extraction from his chamber, it gave him comfort that she would
be there again. How was it possible, he
wondered now, that science had created such a perfect machine? Inexplicably, though it seemed impossible,
her skin and breath were warm, the twinkle in her blue eyes was real, and a
vague Mona Lisa smile was, at this moment, fixed on her glowing face. She was to all appearances and touch, a
woman, and yet she had, according to the Stellarnaut’s Handbook, the strength
of three men. With these thoughts in
mind, his voice faltered. He could
think of nothing more to say. As Sandra
gently interrupted his speech, her presence and purring voice, was like a warm
blanket on his soul.
“Listen to your captain,” she called
sweetly to the crew. “You’re holding onto the last shred of consciousness as if
your never going to awaken. That’s so
absurd. Our whole purpose was the
mission. As Skip told you, now it’s
survival. Please accept the fact that
we’re your protectors, not your jailers.
Would you rather go insane and, in stages, age, and finally die. Do you remember those words in your
handbooks: ‘Prolonged periods outside the chamber, without normal gravity,
hastens the aging process of humans.’
When you’re dead, we, Generation Eight, will be all that’s left of the
human race. How sad that would be.” “….
It’s a byproduct of this crisis,” she added after a pause, “but we offer you
immortality. Is that so bad?”
Abe stifled a sob, and yet several
listeners in the audience seemed unmoved.
Not satisfied with the reaction that either Abe or herself had on the
faint-hearted members of the crew, Sandra’s maternal tone turned suddenly
harsh. The transition, which was
typical of androids, caught Abe by surprise.
Hearing her use this tact broke him from his reverie. Instead of weeping, a hysterical laugh
escaped his throat.
“Get it through your human brains once and for all!”
She looked squarely at Said. “You really have two choices: life or death. In truth, of course, you have no choice,
at all. We won’t let you commit
suicide. Your mental state requires
immediate action. There’ll no more
dragging of the feet by some of you.
The sooner you’re all in your chambers, the sooner we’ll find you a home
and you’ll awake up on a new world.
Once again, those of you who don’t go willingly into cyber-sleep will be
forced to comply.” “Please,” she implored, looking round the table, “you who
are stronger set an example for the weak among you. You saw what happened to Nicole.
In a drugged state she was forcibly purged, top and bottom. Believe me, like your last experience, this
is something you want to do yourself.
Don’t force our hands!”
Abe tried not breaking into hysterical giggles. Sandra’s forcefulness belied her Barbie
features. Rosalie, it occurred to him,
had been spirited too, but then Rosalie didn’t have the strength of three
men. Skip, the leader of the androids,
said nothing this time, yet, by hand signals, directed the remaining two
non-humans, Rusty and Woody, to stations themselves aft and forward of the
captain’s table, as if once again standing guard. After he nodded to Sandra, she ordered the humans to have their
last meal (an ominous note in itself) then, not long afterwards, purge their
colons and stomachs as they had before takeoff, so that within the next few
hours or as long as it takes, be ready for hibernation. To avoid any more mental stress, Skip wanted
it taken care of this in the most timely manner. As it had before, Abe recalled grimly, such a process depended on
when they had their last meal, when their food settled, and how long it took
each of them to manage the purge. The
process of purging, Sandra reminded them, began with purgatives and laxatives,
followed, if necessary by self-induced vomiting and self-performed enemas. At least for an indeterminate period, they
had time to achieve the desired results.
Even before the medics delivered their dinner, the
oral laxatives had been administered to them.
It was, Abe and Max agreed, the worst meal of their lives. Not having vomit reflexes or a sense of
smell, made Sandra and Woody excellent nurses and medics but poor waiters. Ingrid, the most cheerful member of the
group, added religious significance to it when she gave a benediction before
their meal. Carla cursed her effort
and, until forced to do so, Hans refused to eat, but most of the others joined
in politely as Ingrid prayed. It didn’t
matter how much they ate, Woody explained, they would be feed intravenously
when asleep. Though such a statement
was expected from the least human of the androids, such callous words during
their last supper, as Ingrid thought of it, was especially tactless. Already, because of their state of minds, it
was difficult to enjoy the special dinner offered to them (something resembling
steak, mash potatoes, and peas). Said,
who continued to glare at their caretakers, demanded to know what, in his words
“This shit is!” Or, as Elroy summed it
up for the crew, “At least make it look more appetizing!” Abe forced himself to eat as much as
possible, as did many of the diners.
The one reassuring thing about the meal and attitude at the dinner table
for Abe’s peace of mind was the participants somber acceptance of their
fate. It appeared as though space
psychosis might have been averted.
To this end, Ingrid’s comparison of their last meal
to the Lord’s Last Supper had helped.
Normally, her prayers and words of encouragement rubbed the atheists and
agnostics in the group wrong, but her spirit, at this dark hour, caused
unexpected mirth.
“You compare this to the Last Supper?” Carla
snickered. “Who at this table is Jesus: Abe, our captain.”
“Oh, I’m no Jesus,” Abe snickered, “maybe Noah or
Moses.”
“We’re like the Twelve Apostles,” murmured Sheila.
“No,” Ingrid shook her head, “this has nothing to do
with Jesus and his apostles. That would
be sacrilegious. Noah and Moses were
holy men.” “But we’re serving God’s purpose,” she informed them. “This is our
last supper until we find a new home.
You heard what the andies said about the clones: we carry mankind on the
ship!”
“Listen to you people?” Carla looked around in
disbelief. “For Christ’s sakes, this is the twenty fifth century!”
“It got damn nonsense!” exclaimed Hans. “One big
joke!”
“Isn’t it strange,” Ingrid posed the question. “that
atheists, who don’t believe, use the Lord’s name in vain?’
“That’s true,” Gandy smiled at her. “They do in deed,
Ingrid. You don’t hear them say Vishnu
damn it! Or Allah damn it! It’s always God damn it! or Jesus Christ! I never liked those words.”
“Well, I appreciate Ingrid’s prayers.” Mbuto reached
over to pat her wrist. “We need all the help we can get!”
“I am not atheist.” Ling muttered belatedly. “I am
Buddhist.”
Carla laughed sourly. “When have you ever given that fat guy a thought? I’ve known plenty of Buddhists. Face it Madam Butterfly, you’re an atheist
like me.” “Except our resident nun
here,” she added, pointing to Ingrid, “all of you, if you’re honest, are
atheists. You don’t believe that crap!”
“Oh, I believe some of it!” Sheila nodded.
“Me too!” Mbuto insisted.
“No you don’t!” Carla scowled. “Not genuinely. Fear of death, makes you want to
believe. It’s called the air raid
syndrome. When there’s a threat
overhead, everyone prays. When there’s
no threat, its back to normal. It’s
hypocrisy!”
“That’s quite enough!” Max cut her off. “You said
your piece. I agree with them. As a psychologist as well as doctor, I’ve
found faith an excellent balm for human fears.
We’re under constant threat, Carla.
This is the new normal. Nothing
will be the same anymore!”
“Frankly,
Carla” Gandy jumped in, shaking his head. “I find your language and attitude
appalling. Why are you so bitter? I was a practicing Hindu until I became a
scientist. We Hindus have high regard
for the Christian god and his son. What
did Jesus ever do to you? Why are you
giving Ingrid such a hard time?”
“I’m cool with Jesus.” Carla shrugged her shoulders.
“I just don’t like hypocrisy. Ingrid’s
praying gets on my nerves!”
“That’s too bad!” Elroy glared at her. “We like
it. Your logic doesn’t make sense. What do you think of when you face the
dark? That black void is a terrible
end!”
“Nothing,” she confessed dubiously, a frown playing
on her face. “…. Nothing at all!”
“I will pray for you.” Ingrid sighed. “I will pray
for all of you until I fall asleep.”
“Hah! Fall
asleep?” spat Hans. “You mean go like blank sheet into coma. If there is God, where was He on Earth. Where is he now?”
“All right folks!” Abe slammed the table with his
mug. “This has been edifying, but let’s change the subject. We have a short while as our food digests
before the procedures begin. Do any of
you have anymore questions? I don’t
mind answering them again. As we’ve
been told, time’s irrelevant during hibernation. It will seem like a few moments at the most, when your cognition
sets in after you awaken again. In such
a timeless hour, you’ll be sitting here again chatting as if you just had a
brief nap.”
“Our captain is an optimist to the last!” exclaimed
Max.
“Here’s to Captain Abraham Drexel!” Mbuto raised up
his mug.
“Here-Here!” Gandy joined the toast.
******
Going down the Phoenix’s duty roster, Sandra held a roll call to make
sure everyone was accountable on the ship and not hiding in the docking area
below or somewhere in the station. The
action intensified most of the humans resentment for the androids, making them
feel like children back in grade school.
Captain Drexel, as Max, the ship’s doctor, however, understood that it
was necessary. As they demonstrated by
their treatment of Nicole, the androids had to be tough with this group. Unless they went into hibernation, space
psychosis would claim them long before physical degeneration occurred. For Carla, who put up a hard front, Elroy
and Hans, who were trying desperately to be brave, and Sheila, who had found
strength joining Ingrid in prayer, the threat of space psychosis seemed to have
momentarily passed. In agreement, with
some reservation, with Abe and Max, were Gandy and Mbuto, but Said would hold
onto his resentment until the last.
“They make it sound like such a trifling matter,” he
grumbled. “Like we’re children taking a nap!”
“More like bears hibernating in
winter.” Gandy managed a smile.
“Yes, a long winter nap,” Elroy murmured sadly, “in
which we might not wake up!”
The English geologist, whom no one heard that
moment, had seemed to make peace with himself.
This, Abe thought he understood, was true for everyone else, including
Carla, who’s mental defense was a hard crust which no one could penetrate even
now. Unfortunately, the period of
preparation, would rattle the crew again.
During the waiting period, the crewmembers were
finally ordered to purge their stomachs by the purgative handed to them by
Woody and, if this was not quite adequate, finish the job by cramming two
fingers down their throats. For those
whose laxatives were taking too much time, they were forced to use enemas,
which were almost as distasteful to them as making themselves vomit. These preparations, conducted in a special
compartment in the space station, in fact, were dreaded almost as much as the
cryogenic chambers themselves. When
they were finished, all eleven of the crewmembers returned to the conference
table to be called for enclosure in the chambers. Nicole, who had been processed while in a drugged state, had been
the first, now Ingrid, who, because Skip considered her to be the bravest
member of the crew, would set an example for the others.
“Have faith!” she called over her shoulder.
“Remember what I told you and the prayers I taught you. There is no death, only eternal life. Believe and you’ll be saved!”
With great patience now, noted Abe, Sandra, the
mid-wife, waited patiently and politely to allow Ingrid to quote verses from
the Twenty-Third Psalm:
“Yea, though I
walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou
art with me. Thy rod and thy staff they
comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine
enemies. Thou anointest my head with
oil, and my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life:
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.”
At first her
words seemed to have made an impact on the crew. There was absolute silence in the ship. As Sandra led her to the station entrance, Ingrid called out,
with a trace of fear in her voice, “My friends, it doesn’t matter what words
come into your head; just pray. Make
your last thoughts spiritual, not worldly concerns. Go into hibernation for the glory of God!”
“We’re not dying,
bitch!” Carla growled.
“No, not dying,” Said sneered. “Just
taking a snooze—permanently!”
“Yes, sleep,” Ingrid responded
quickly, “but not permanent. Sleep in
which, if things go wrong, you’ll awaken in paradise!”
“Nothing’s going wrong!” yelled Carla.
“We’re going into hibernation, for Christ’s sake! Shut that woman up!”
“Das est das ende!” Han lapsed back into
German.
“The End!” Elroy gave a wounded cry.
“What is this?” Abe frowned. “I
thought we settled this issue. We don’t
need this kind of talk. Come on Hans
and Elroy, you were doing great. We
talked about this. This is no different
than the first time. It’ll be over
soon, and, before you know it, we’ll be looking down at a new world.”
“‘Over soon’ are the operative words!” Elroy stared
vacantly, rocking back and forth. There
will be no other world, alien or otherwise.
This the end!”
“Yes, there’s another world waiting,”
promised Ingrid, her voice trailing into the distance,“… a glorious one,
greater than Earth!” “Oh, you faint-hearted,” her words were punctuated with
sobs. “… Look at me, I’m not afraid, because I have Jesus. Pray, reach out, and believe!”
“Zhè jiùshì jiéjú!” Ling translated Elroy’s last
sentence into Chinese.
Skip and Rusty, having taken over the bridge again,
now looked on with concern. Hans and
Ling were in the panic mode. Sheila was
close to it, too. Elroy had appeared
calm on the surface, but was, Abe could see, on the verge of hysteria. Like Nicole, they might very well
explode. Though they had no visible
symptoms of panic, everyone, including himself, were filled with foreboding and
dread.
“Shape up, men and women!” he used a different tact.
“You’re stellarnauts—emissaries of Earth.
Go into your chambers willingly, with your heads held high. Don’t make them manhandle you like Nicole!”
Gandy inspired by Ingrid, put a different spin on her message: “Ling,
Hans, Elroy.” Gandy. Listen to
Ingrid. My people, the Hindus, also
believe that life doesn’t end. We are
reborn, in an endless cycle of reincarnation.
She’s right, there is no death!”
“I’m Buddhist, not Christian or Hindu,” Ling replied
in a quivering voice. “I never understood that stuff. Buddhist say there’s no soul, no heaven, only nothingness—what
bullshit is that?”
“It doesn’t matter what you call yourselves!”
shouted Ingrid. “Believe and you’re saved!”
“Yes, yes….” Sheila looked around fearfully. “…. We must believe…. We must believe!”
“La-la-la!
La-la-la!” Carla uttered, her fingers stuffed in her ears.
At that point, Max whispered anxiously, “They have
to go under, Abe. Considering their
mood, the sooner the better. The worst
thing that could happen now isn’t forced hibernation. It’s space psychosis.
That condition is permanent. You
don’t want crewmembers going mad!”
Soon, Hans, and Elroy were clutching themselves
tightly and rocking to and fro, as Sheila assumed a fetal position on the
floor. Watching them lapse into deeper
levels of hysteria and borderline psychosis, Abe nodded at Max, swallowing
hard.
“Captain!” Mbuto poked him gently. “Do
something. This is getting out of
hand!”
Clearly, by their wide-eyed expressions, Max, Mbuto,
Carla, and Said, were trying desperately to hold it together as the others fill
apart. Torn with emotions for his crew
and their mutual dread, Abe gathered his composure, rose up, and shouted at the
bridge, “Skip, you told me to take command of the ship. Okay, you’re in charge now. You need to crank this process up a notch
before this gets out of hand!”
It was, he realized, a serious understatement. Matters were already out of hand. Responding calmly now, Skip gave Abe a nod,
called Woody up to the bridge, and whispered into his ear. As Ingrid continued to spout off in the
distance, Sandra spoke firmly to her, “That’s enough Doctor Westfall, they get
the point! They can pray for themselves.” Nodding to Skip, Woody, the enforcer,
stepped down from the bridge and, in a loud voice, threatened the panic
stricken crew: If you don’t calm down, I’ll sedate you. You’ll be forced into your chambers like
Nicole!”
His words and the look on that cold wooden-like face
evidently instilled terror in the fainthearted crewmembers. Suddenly, there was silence again at the
table. No more doomsday forecasters
dared speak. Even Said, who had been
the boldest critics of the androids kept his peace. Almost unheard now were the trembling words of Sheila Livingston,
who, rising up into a sitting position, quoted Ingrid’s childhood prayer: “Now
I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the
Lord my soul shall take.”
Ling clamped her mouth shut with both hands, Elroy
and Hans stuffed their fists into their mouths, and Carla laughed hysterically
to herself, as Sheila repeated the prayer.
Satisfied that matters were under control, Woody stood back, his hands
on his hips, watching their every move.
******
After a period of less an hour, which seemed like
half the day, Sandra returned to fetch another warm body. As Abe had hoped, he was the next one on the
list. One-by-one, they would all suffer
the final procedure of enclosure as Ingrid had. Abe heaved a sigh, turned, and smiled bravely at the remaining
crew, and tried comforting them one last time.
His comforting words had not helped very much, and yet he repeated them
almost verbatim. It seemed questionable
to him, considering the other scientists’ frame of mind, that they really
believed Ingrid’s words, but it appeared that Gandy, Mbuto, and Sheila had
found some comfort in them. Wishing
desperately that he could discard his own agnosticism now, he thought about
Ingrid’s words. How was it possible, he
wondered, that a geologist of her standing, had hidden this side of her until
awakening from the dark sleep? If she
could believe, and if Gandy and Mbuto made the effort, why couldn’t he make the
attempt?
What was it? he murmured to himself: “Yea, thou I
walk through the Valley of the Shadow Death?… What comes after that?”
Try, as he may, as was led by Sandra into the space
station, he couldn’t remember India’s prayers, not even that simple prayer, he
had learned in childhood, himself. His
head was muddled with so many thoughts that would soon be put indefinitely on
hold.
As she helped him undress, Sandra, to his surprise
and delight, finished the Twenty-Third Psalm for him. “I will fear no evil:” she purred, pulling the jump suit over his
head, “for thou art with me, and thy rod and thy staff they comfort
me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine
enemies. Thou anointest my head with
oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life:
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.”
Resisting the
urge to kiss her, he exclaimed, “That was lovely. You remembered it perfectly!”
Sandra, however, had spoken the words without
emotion. The vision of seeing a
Generation Eight android again transformed into the caring mid-wife was too
much for him. Thankful that his crew didn’t see him, Abe allowed himself the
cleansing luxury of breaking down in tears.
Sandra continued to prepare him for hibernation. It happened so quickly and expertly, before
he realized it he was in his chamber, ready for hook-up and cryogenic sleep.
Following Ingrid and then Captain Drexel’s example,
the crew would suffer the final procedure of enclosure. Each shipmate would be scanned to make sure
his stomach and colon were clear. If
not, they would have to force themselves to vomit and, if necessary, also
suffer an enema douche. As before when
their course had been set for Triton, they would then be stripped down and
given a brief garment to hide their private parts, and once again climb into
their chambers, receive anesthesia, and while unconscious be prepared for cyber
sleep.
Sandra talked to some of the crew as she would to
children, reminding them of why they must do it, coaxing them in each step of
the way, and, in several cases, with Woody’s assistance, forcing them into
their cryogenic chamber against their will.
The anesthesia knocked them out quickly. Life-support tubes were then attached to the unconscious humans,
and the temperature lowered until, with the lid shut, the body remained frozen
in suspended animation until awakened one day when Skip had found them a new
world. Time, was irrelevant Sandra
reminded each of the humans, as they were tended to one-by-one. In the dark sleep, a thousand years was no
longer than a minute. The worst part
was waking up. It would be
uncomfortable, and traumatic, and yet, as before, they wouldn’t remember this
procedure. Now during the hours that
Phoenix’s crew were ushered into hibernation, all they would experience after
the initial discomforts of the bodily purge of food and liquids earlier, was a
painless shot as they lie in their chambers…. then darkness. The dark sleep had begun and wouldn’t end
until a likely home was found. While
they slept, it would be the caretakers who suffered the boredom of space.
Of the crewmembers, Sheila, for all
her praying, like Elroy, Hans, and Ling had to he forced into her chamber and
given the needle quickly to shut her up.
Said, though silent and presenting a fearless facade was, because he
struck Woody in the face with his fist, sedated while he was being undressed
and then dragged unconscious to his chambers.
For everyone, regardless of their behavior at this time, the anesthesia
administered knocked them out quickly.
After this point, the hook-up, which included the intravenous food tube,
heart and brain monitors, and what Said called the zombie drug, would not be
felt. At one point, while they were
under normal unconsciousness caused by anesthesia, they would fall into the
dark sleep and, as Said characterized, become zombies once again.
Doctor Max Rodgers, who followed Abe, though terrified himself,
presented a brave front for everyone.
Gandy, Mbuto, and, in the end, Carla Mendoza, also proved to be stoic
and resolved. The most influential
force for compliance was, of course, Woody, who would allow no dissent. Abe’s last thoughts, which he would not
recall, were strangely calm. He had
done all he could for his crew. If
there was a God, he hoped He could read his thoughts. A mantra filled his brain when it became his turn to be
anesthetized and then frozen cryogenically: “Find us a home!…. Find us a home!”
******
For Captain Abe Drexel, who, that last moment,
looked up searchingly at Sandra’s synthetic face, a feeling of loneliness, more
than fear, had overtaken him. The
long-held dread that mankind would be dominated by its machines had been, for
this small remnant of humanity, realized.
The Phoenix and its android crew were in control of their lives. If they failed, this state of unconsciousness
would be permanent. Yet, before the
drug was administered, he found himself tranquil and at peace. He realized he had lived a long, eventful
life. So had the other men and women on
this journey. He had, as the other
humans, felt great sadness for Earth, but that was behind them. Now, there was hope for the future. He had to believe this. What Skip told him about the break in communication
with mission control had been born out by his own investigation. There was no question in his mind that the problems
on Earth before takeoff had mushroomed into a cataclysmic event. As for the reassurances by the android
captain that they would find a new home, he took that on faith, not reason. There was no proof whatsoever given by Skip
and Rusty that such an Earth-like planet could be found nor was he totally
confident of the self-sustaining features of the ship’s fuel and food,
disclosed by Skip. These were facts
drawn from the android’s database.
Everything told to them was, in the end, a leap of faith over many light
years in space. That the androids might
be lying to them, as Said, Elroy, and Hans suspected, had been put to rest in
his mind. There was no logical reason
for them to lie. They were, in a manner
of speaking, all in the same boat… When Sandra approached him with the needle,
it made no difference.
It was apparent that there was nothing behind them….
Earth was history. All that remained
was the odyssey ahead. The motives of
the androids, whether it was really to protect them or for their own
self-preservation as they languish in their chambers, was almost a moot point
when weighed against the problems of space psychoses and physical
degeneration. If nothing else, he
reassured himself, that was averted.
Captain Abraham Drexel had never wanted immortality and yet the thought
intrigued him…. He had, for the first time in his life, prayed to his distant
god. Then it happened to him, too. Remembering the tale of Rip Van Winkle, the
man who went to sleep and awakened many years later with a long, gray beard, he
laughed softy when he felt the needle, and was plunged into darkness. Sandra checked his vital signs to make sure
they were functioning, hooked him up to his intravenous feeding tube, life
support lines, and cryogenic drug, turn down the temperature, and then,
glancing once more at Abe’s sleeping face, shut the lid. For Captain Abraham Drexel and the crew of
the Phoenix who followed, the dark sleep had begun.
******
When
the last lid was shut, Sandra and Woody inspected all twelve of the cryogenic
chambers meticulously. Faithfully, as
Skip navigated and Rusty piloted the Phoenix, they would watch over the crew,
making sure that the intravenous food tubes, life support lines, and cryogenic
feed readings were correct and the temperature inside the chambers remained
unchanged. The men and women of the
Triton Project’s aborted effort to explore Neptune’s dark moon, lie peacefully
in their enclosures, eyes shut, hands folded on their chests as if in caskets
ready for burial. What separated them
from the dead were the life-support monitors on each chamber, all indicating
normal readouts. What kept them alive
were the tubes connected to their bodies which fed and hydrated them, the
temperature which preserved them, the cryogenic drug that kept them in a deep,
comatose state, and a special tube for bodily waste and urine which emptied
into containers in back of the chambers and was dumped each day. It was a never ending task for the medics,
who, unlike their human charges, never complained and never had a moment’s
rest.
Satisfied with their efforts today, Sandra and Woody
returned to the conference room where Skip and Rusty waited. Unable to show human emotion, except for
perfunctory gestures and tones, they nevertheless resembled their human
counterparts in their speech and mannerisms.
“The humans are asleep,” Woody
announced, standing at attention. “The chambers indicate normal readings. They will be monitored each hour.”
“Many of them believe they won’t wake
up,” Sandra reminded their leader.
“Yes.” Skip nodded. “It’s not whether
they will awaken, but when.” “Come,” he motioned to the two. “While you
were at your tasks, something happened.
Rusty and I have already watched the message.”
As they stood around the captain’s
console, Skip pointed to the computer.
In the black background of the screen, was a message listed from
earth. Pressing the video recorded
communication, the unshaven face of Thomas Wayland, the director of the Triton
Project, appeared against a background of hallow-eyed bedraggled men and women,
standing silently as he delivered his message.
Listening and watching the pre-recorded broadcast, Sandra and Woody
stood in respectful silence displaying little emotion, and yet a frown seemed
frozen on Skip’s face.
“When you get this transmission,” the director began
solemnly, “I might be dead. Hopefully,
with the androids help, you will one day be standing on the bridge alive, ready
to land on a new world. Because of the
electromagnetic blackout here, I was unable to send a message until today. In the Southern Hemisphere, where our convoy
moves southward, I’ve been able to do just that. But there’s little time.
Finally, the powers that be have done it. The earth that you once knew is finished. In the event of such a cataclysmic even, I
instructed the androids not to awaken you.
Because of the bombs, which caused a world-wide blackout, we couldn’t
communicate with the Phoenix, but now there is a brief window in the Southern
Hemisphere. On the side of the road,
near a grove of hardwood trees, I’ve found a meadow where unpolluted water
still flows through. Frankly, at this
point, I don’t even know where we are.
This is the first and might be the last transmission. Attempting to enter the earth’s atmosphere
would be suicide now. My final orders
to you all is do not to return!”
Thomas Wayland now paused, fighting back tears. The once smartly dressed, clean-shaven, and
dapper director that the androids remembered so well was now, along with
members of his staff, a mere shell of himself, a fugitive from a nuclear
apocalypse, trying to escape the radioactive clouds drifting from the
north. Drawing close to the camera
capturing this moment, he called out the Generation Eight androids’ names:
“Skip, Rusty, Sandra, and Woody.” “This message is for you,” his voice broke,
“You are the caretakers of mankind…. When the Phoenix reaches it’s
destination—a safe harbor to begin anew, you may waken the crew and break the
news to them. They have countless
worlds to pick from. Since you, the
caretakers, are seeing this message first, I leave with you this
communication—the last from planet earth.
Take care of this remnant of mankind.
Their fate is in your hands. The
clone specimens you were instructed to take from the crew are humanity’s last
hope!’”
“That message is only eight hours old, sir,” Rusty
announced. “Shall we reply?”
“Yes.” Skip placed a hand on his shoulder. “Inform
the director that everything’s in order: the crew are asleep and the Phoenix
will begin its search. Tell him we’re
sorry for Earth’s misfortune, but the humans are in good hands. With the specimens taken earlier, the human
race is safe. Because of conditions in Earth’s atmosphere, the message to the
director may or may not be received, but it doesn’t matter. It’s up to us now. Mankind’s fate is in our hands.
Following our directives and the star-map, we’ll search until we find an
Earth-like world.”
His hands clasped behind his back,
Skip, the android captain of the Phoenix, looked out of the great window that
moment. Sitting down in the captain’s
chair finally, he once again took command of the ship. While they searched the cosmos, Sandra and
Woody would continue monitoring the sleeping humans. While they kept watch over their charges, and the captain and
pilot navigated the ship, the Phoenix headed away from Neptune into the
unknown.
In a monotone voice, Skip spoke into the computer’s
database, “Space Log, 2100 hours, October 17th 2458. The ship’s company are safe and secure. All indicators are normal except the link
with Earth. Our last communication came
in belatedly from the dying world from Director Thomas Wayland. We can’t go back now, only forward. We’re on our own!”
“Where to sir?” Rusty beamed. “We have
a list of possible destinations. Should
I pick the first one on the list?”
“Perhaps.” Skip seemed to sigh. “We have plenty of time to decide—centuries, perhaps millenniums. For now, Rusty, it’s just out. Take us into deep space!”