This Long Vigil (A Short Story) (2 page)

Dan said nothing. Finally, I decided I was hungry enough to
end my meager boycott and have some. It tasted no different than water.

“Forward and forward I go, never looking back,” Dan said as
I swallowed. “My limit no one knows; more of me do they lack. Like a river I do
flow and an eagle I fly, but am never gotten back. What am I, Orion?”

Another riddle. He knew exactly how to keep my mind occupied
when I needed it most.

“What’s an eagle?” I asked with my mouth full from another
scoop of my meal.

“Sorry for my oversight. It is an avian species indigenous
to Earth, belonging to the
Accipitridae
 family.”

“Dan ...”

“It is a large species of bird,” Dan corrected.

“Right. Bird. The animal with hollow bones and wings with
feathers, correct?”

“In simpler terms, yes. They can fly even where there is
gravity. Let me show you.”

A beam of illumination shot out from a lens embedded in my
room’s far wall. The particles of light quickly formed into the three
dimensional figure of what I assumed was an eagle. Its feathers fluttered as
the projection soared through the imagined sky. Its outstretched wings were
almost as tall as I was.

“Beautiful,” I uttered. I placed down the bowl and reached
out, my fingers slipping through the pixels of light. “Hollow bones you say?”

“Yes.”

“How strange,” I snickered as I hopped onto my bed.

“Have you arrived at an answer yet, or did I stump you
again, Orion?” Dan asked after a few minutes passed in silence.

Seeing the majestic eagle had almost caused me to forget the
question. 
My limit no one knows; more of me do they lack. 
I
reiterated a few times in my head until it started to ache. My mind was too
cluttered to think clearly. “No, but I’m not giving up yet,” I answered.

<><><> 

My attempt at taking a nap after eating mostly led to me
spending a few hours staring at the bare ceiling. Heavy as my eyelids may’ve
been, sleeping was the last thing I wanted to do. I knew I’d get plenty of rest
soon enough.

I sat up and began to rub them when suddenly an orange-hued
light shined through the viewport. It was more brilliant than any light I’d
ever seen before.

“Dan, what is that?” I stammered, my face beginning to feel
like it’d been placed in a warming oven.

“Sorry, Orion. You will have to be more specific,” Dan
replied instantly.

“That orange light coming through my viewport!”

“That is originating from Alpha Centauri B, one of the three
companion stars in the system nearest to the Earth.”

My brow furrowed. “A star?” I questioned. “Is it exploding?
I’ve never seen one like that before.”

“I assure you that you have seen many that are similar in
composition. It appears large only because it is 98,420,000 miles away.”

“Is that far?”

“It is a similar distance as that which exists between Earth
and its star, Sol.”

“So ... it’s like the sun?” My eyes widened. I stared back
toward the light until they went dry.

“From the perspective of one of this system’s planets, yes.
It could be considered a similar entity.”

“I don’t understand. Did we make it?”

“No. As I have informed you before, the programmed
destination of this vessel is the star system, Tau Ceti. The planet Pervenio
Corporation researchers have discovered orbiting that star has an eighty-three
percent chance of being able to harbor human life. That is the highest
probability of any celestial body within one thousand years of travel from
Earth, considering modern technological abilities to traverse space at the time
of the 
Hermes’
 departure.”

I frowned, but as I hung my head I pieced together something
he’d said and sprung to my feet. “But you said there are planets here! What
about them?”

“The planet in this system with the highest probability of
being habitable is nearby Luxar, with a seventy-four percent chance of being
able to harbor human life.”

I took a moment to do the math. I wasn’t anywhere near as
quick at it as Dan was. “That’s only nine percent!” I proclaimed. “If we’re
that close, why don’t we find out ourselves?” I could barely contain my
excitement. My hands were almost trembling as they wrapped around the frame of
the viewport.

“I have been programmed never to slow the 
Hermes
 until
reaching Tau Ceti. The loss of time due to deceleration would add a decade onto
the voyage. By my estimation it would then take two hundred and eleven years to
reach the system from this point.”

“But ...” I stuttered before I was swiftly rendered silent
by what I saw. I assume the Living Ring rotated too far and eclipsed the star
because the light vanished as quickly as it had appeared. I leaned back, my jaw
hanging open. For Dan maybe hundreds more years of travel might’ve seemed worth
it over nine percent, but to me it felt like I’d just been punched in the gut.
Never had I been so close to anything in the universe beyond the ship I knew.

“Have you figured out the riddle yet, Orion?” Dan asked,
attempting to distract me. His monotone voice didn’t change, but after nearly
thirty years I could somehow always tell when he knew I was dismayed.

“No,” I muttered. I continued to stare through the viewport,
waiting anxiously for the sun to reappear.

“You only have nineteen hours remaining—”

“Stop!” I bellowed, so loud that if the Life-Chambers
weren’t filled with liquid I might’ve woken half of the inhabitants outside my
quarters. I leaned my head against the cold metal wall beneath the viewport and
stopped myself right before my clenched fist slammed into it. “Just stop.”

Dan went silent. I turned around and caught a glimpse of
Inhabitant 2781’s Life-Chamber outside of my room. I decided that I needed to
get as far away from the chambers as possible to clear my head. I hurried out
of my room and around the Living Ring, staring at the floor so I could avoid
seeing any of the inhabitants.

I finally stopped in front of the ladder up to the cramped
corridor which bridged to the Conservatory. Dan unsealed the entry for me
without a word and I began to climb. Humid air greeted my nostrils, making it
slightly more difficult to breathe than in the rest of the ship. As I reached
the top of the ladder, zero-g gently lifted my body. I drifted into the space—a
tremendous, hollow sphere around which the Living Ring rotated. Rows of
plantings and heat lamps wrapped in 360 degree arcs as if I were in a sea of
green. Dan’s many appendages tended to the crops, probably using Fish’s remains
to fertilize them.

“Would you like to tend a crop?” Dan asked me. “I can
deactivate a single one of my arms to be replaced by you for the time being.”

I thought about it for a moment. It was nice that Dan
trusted me with something so crucial. It took him many years before he was
willing to let me help with the crops for the first time. I found it to be a
calming exercise even though I knew he didn’t actually need any assistance. His
plants never struggled. Their leaves never even wilted.

“Thanks, Dan, but it’s alright,” I responded as I pushed off
of the rounded wall and floated toward the center of the sphere. I wasn’t in
the mood to perform another menial task. From time to time I didn’t mind just
letting the universe cradle me.

“Are you positive?”

“Positive. I just want to float here.”

I closed my eyes, laid back and pretended that for the first
time I was in space. The darkness of my eyelids made it easy to picture as I
hovered weightlessly. I imagined stars glimmering all around me, constructing a
universe of infinite possibilities. I imagined what the planet Luxar was like.
If it had cloudy skies like the Earth Dan had taught me about, or green grass...

“Time,” I whispered suddenly.

“Sorry, Orion, I could not hear what you said,” Dan replied.

I cleared my throat. “Time,” I repeated. “
More of me they
do lack.
 That’s the answer to your riddle, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Dan replied. To me he sounded like he was almost
proud. “I thought I was going to stump you.”

“Not this time.” I opened my eyes and smiled. Then I pushed
off a nearby crop and let the momentum carry me back to the bridge leading out
of the Conservatory. As I caught onto the wall and gazed upon the crops, the
truth behind the riddle hit me.

“Dan,” I began. “I know it’s wrong of me, but ... I’m not
ready to die.” I had never said it out loud. As I finally did, it was hard to
keep my lips from trembling. A tear lifted off of my cheek and floated away.

There was a short pause. Then Dan said: “You are not going
to be recycled for many years, Orion. You are just going to be placed in a hibernate
status like the other inhabitants.”

“Don’t you see? It’s all the same. I know I’m supposed to,
but I don’t feel old. I want to visit the stars outside of these walls. I want
to be there when this ship’s mission is complete.”

“I do not wish to unsettle you further, but you know that
neither of those desires are possible.”

I wiped my cheeks. “I know, and I know that you can’t
understand what I’m feeling,” I said. “I barely do myself and I learned
everything I know from you. But I’m begging you, let me see the stars one time
without shielded glass in my way. Let me gaze upon Alpha Centauri at least,
with my own two eyes.”

“I am sorry, Orion. I have been programmed not to permit the
release of any of this vessel’s airlocks unless it is absolutely necessary.”

I chortled under my breath. I wasn’t sure what else I
expected to hear. Regardless of whether or not his riddles were his own
conception, Dan was never one to defy his maker. Neither had I been, for I was
a product of Dan as much as he was of his programming.

“I am reading an elevated heart rate again,” Dan said.

He was right. I was as anxious as I was thrilled. For the
first time in my life I knew exactly what 
I 
wanted. I didn’t
want to waste my final hours distracting myself with a few more menial tasks.
First I’d have to make my selection, and then I was going to see the stars for
real. No matter what.

“Dan,” I said. “I think I’ve finally chosen my replacement.”

<><><> 

I quickly traversed the Living Ring. When I reached
Inhabitant 2781, I stopped and got as close to the glass enclosure of her
Life-Chamber as I could.

“You’ll have to find a name as well,” I whispered to her. “I
don’t think I’ll be here, but be kind to Dan. He tries his best.” I placed my
hand against the tube. My fingers curled as if they were threading through
hers. It wouldn’t be fair of me to wake her against regulations just so
that 
I
 could hold her hand. She’d have to find her own destiny
as the 
Hermes’ 
Monitor, as I did.

“Dan, you were right,” I said. I gazed down the hall at the
Life-Chambers vanishing around the bend. For whatever reason I knew that all of
them would be safe in her hands. “She should be the next Monitor.”

“You have made your selection?” Dan asked.

“For you, yes. Inhabitant 2781 is to be the seventh Monitor
of the Interstellar Ark,
Hermes
.”

“She is a suitable choice. There are eighteen hours until
your shift will come to an end and she will be awakened. Is there anything you
would like to do before you must return to your Life-Chamber, Orion? I can generate
another riddle.”

Without answering, I rounded the Living Ring and climbed
into the long cylindrical passageway which branched off toward the engine room.
In that corridor, which like the Conservatory lacked any sensation of
pseudo-gravity, was the ship’s central airlock exiting into space. I’d
performed minor repairs there before, but only then did I see it as anything
more than another hallway.

Spacesuits hung along the walls across from it, exactly a
thousand of them. They were all empty and faceless, as if filled by ghosts. I
drew my weightless body in front of one and stared at it.

“Orion, what are you doing?” Dan asked calmly.

“Dan,” I said.

“Yes?”

“I’ve always wondered. Did any of the other Monitors ever
get to go outside these walls?”

“The opportunity never presented itself. A Monitor would
only need to perform reparations from space if the ship’s radiation plating
were damaged.”

“Did they ever ask to go?”

“There were certainly periods of curiosity, but, like you,
they were content to remain within the safety of this vessel. A vacuum is no
place for organic beings.”

I removed the suit from the wall and noticed that my fingers
were quaking with excitement as I did. I pulled it open and began to slip into
the bulky outfit, carefully checking all of the seals as I did so. It wasn’t
difficult to figure out. I grabbed the bulbous helmet off of a shelf and held
it up. I could see my face in the reflection of the visor. My eyebrows were
graying and my flesh was soft and pale, with a patch of shallow wrinkles forming
beneath my hazel eyes.

“Dan, open the central airlock,” I requested. “I would like
to survey the integrity of the hull before I pass along my duties to Inhabitant
2781.”

“Request denied. I assure you that the Hermes’ exterior
remains in optimal condition.”

I knew that. Dan had unbelievably perceptive sensors all
throughout the 
Hermes
. If he could tell when my pulse was raised,
of course he would’ve informed me if there was anything wrong with the
radiation plating. I sighed. There was no use trying to trick him. “Dan,
please. I only want to see.”

“As I have already explained, I cannot permit you to exit at
this time. Is there anything else you would like to do?”

Convincing Dan may have been out of the question, but I
remembered that I’d opened up more panels on the 
Hermes
 for
maintenance than I cared to count. Even though manual overrides were forbidden,
I was intent on seeing space before the long sleep took me. It pained me to
know that doing so would go against Dan’s wishes, but he didn’t understand. He
couldn’t. He may have raised me, but something inside of me was different.