Chapter 14
Estelle delivered Jon and Jekel to The Captain’s Lounge, apprised them she would be next door if they needed anything, and left them to their own devices. The entire lounge consisted of three bubbled rooms connected together in a triangle, with expansive arches leading to each bubble. The most forward bubbled held the Captain’s table that accommodated twelve guests. There were couches molded to the wall, cubby spaces below the seats, and oval shaped windows that allowed people to view directly forward of the ship, when the irises were opened. They were closed during the ‘descent’ phase of their journey. The first bubble contained a bar, with a host and servants, two pool tables, and disco lit floor for dancing if any were inclined. There was a ‘stripper’ pole center of the floor. There was music playing, and the volume was lower than usual as a compromise to accommodate Jon’s hearing condition. Jon would prefer no music, so he could hear conversations better, but it was reasonable for others to have the distraction from the normal rhythm of the ship. He had a medical condition that ran him away from loud sounds: hyperacusics. He would discover later that the Admiral shared Jon’s appreciation for silence. There was a Fallon, male, dancing in a quirky bizarre way that seemed unnatural from a human perspective. The bobbing motion of the head reminded him of the actor Sedale Threatt JR from television show Siren. The third bubble was the Captain’s personal library, with shelves that wrapped around the orb space accommodating the square-ness of books and straight lines, but opening up to a variety of geometric spaces that were less book friendly but occupied well by one or two books or artifacts like crystals or gifts.
Jon and Jekel entered, arm in arm. A hostess greeted them and immediately asked if they would have a drink.
“Bartenura,” Shekel said.
The hostess nodded and looked to Jon. He indicated two, which made his ‘date’ immensely happy.
“You drink it?” Shekel asked.
“Never had it in my life,” Jon assured her. “I suspect though, we should have just got Shoko BeSakit.”
“I will make sure we have that before this journey is over,” Shekel said. She kissed his cheek affectionately. “You know my culture?”
“I am interested,” Jon said. “I don’t know enough. I think, as a gentile, and accepting of a purely traditional Jewish frame of reference, I was always jealous that I could never become a member because it was a birth right, not something one could earn through accumulation of knowledge. And quite frankly, if that path were available, I am too lazy a student to ever demonstrate the kind of learning it would take to pass the bar.”
“We are where we are, that’s it,” Jekel assured him.
Jon agreed silently. They both accepted a drink from the hostess. The glasses were illuminated, pushing light through the drink that was sparkly with bubbles, and they touched them together in salute. It was the evanescent that sold the drink to him. They turned to observe the guests more closely.
Kriss was there. He was six years old, if a day. He was explaining distance traveling to someone, utilizing holographic imagery that he manipulated with his hand. There was a funnel, representing the history of the universe, with the greater area facing up, as if he were working with half a sand dial that was draining into a singularity. The surface ‘universe’ rippled as if it were an ocean in a glass container.
“The fastest way to the far side of the Universe is not a straight line across,” Kriss was saying. “It’s faster and easier to dive down through time, when everything was closer, and then ride the wave back to the present. It’s like a shooting a cannon ball. Once you do the math and get the trajectory, we just shoot down and follow the parabola back up. As long as the shielding works, our frequency signature will always return us to our present, the same way an air bubble will always rise to the surface of the ocean. Of course, I am giving you the simplified metaphor. The actual process can’t be contained in the human brain. Only AI can hold it…”
Kriss held his audience well. Whether they understood or cared or not, they were simply entertained listening to the child. There were some humans that were generally impressed with his iteration of traveling, and they asked questions to test him. Kriss answered a question on the rate of time flowing differently from place to place, and he again compared the Universe to an ocean. ‘Gravity wells are deep water; the deeper you go, the slower time flows. The closer you get to the surface, the faster the waters move. This is an analogy.’
Each pool table was occupied by a party. One particular human male, clearly an officer in the Navy, recognized Jekel and saluted with a beer. He was Jekel’s age. He was tall and bulky in the arms and chest and thighs, suggesting he worked out a lot, or used chemical assists, like steroids, or both. His hair style was military short, but enough there to reveal he was blond. He had a scar on his cheek. The scar made Jon questioned the man’s age, as this was an artifact of old Germany, where it was fashionable for men to have earned a scar from fencing without protective gear. Jon became aware that he was studying him with equal intensity. He nodded. Jon’s nod response was more subtle, almost undetectable. The man seemed amused.
“You okay if I go talk to him?” Jekel asked.
“Absolutely. You’ll find me in the library,” Jon said.
Jon and Jekel parted ways. Crossing over into the library was like stepping out of the club and back onto the streets. The sound of music became distant, though there was no apparent shield that might explain the dampening effect. From the library, there was an access point to a space that was the center of the three rooms. There was storage space and a ‘two man’ lift that went up one level. Above was the Admiral’s office, quarters, and ready room. Unlike most Earth submarine type vessels, Afar Lumière was not pieced together. It was practically grown, the way crystals are grown, in combination with 3D printing. In the process of creating the hull, empty spaces occurred naturally and established the ship’s resonance signature. Many of the spaces were comparable to a beehive. If Jon closed his eyes, and exerted his brain, he could see these three rooms as honeycombed pockets. There was an alien feel to it. Honeycombed structures made sound ships.
Jon gravitated directly to the books. He smiled when he recognized one by Phillip Jose Farmer: “The Other Log of Phineas Fog.” It was standing next to an original printing of “Around the World in 80 Days,” Jules Verne.
“Great read, especially if you start with Verne.”
The voice startled Jon, he had been that transfixed on the books. Standing next to him was a sturdy man, perhaps in his thirties, with general, chiseled expression that reminded Jon instantly of Rex Harrison in the role of ‘the Ghost and Mrs. Muir.’ Admiral Ian Berger was there beside him, looking at the books, holding a mimosa. Their eyes met.
“It’s one of my favorites,” Jon said.
“I know,” Berger said. “You gave them to me.” He enjoyed seeing Jon’s confusion. “The other you. The one serving with Captain Loxy.”
“Fuck me. You met them?” Jon asked.
“They saved my ass. You know what amazes me? No matter how much a pounding this ship has taken, I have never found my books or souvenirs in here on the floor,” Berger said.
Berger nodded towards the center of the library and proceeded to the circular couch. The couch was sectioned and sunk into a pit that corresponded with the lower portion of the unused sphere. Sitting on the couch allowed for one to easily access the floor space around the couch. Storage spaces ran the perimeter of the couch. Center of the space was a circular dais that served as a coffee table, or foot rest or both.
“You’ve been in Space Force a while,” Jon mused.
Berger shrugged.
“Tell me honestly. Was Jules Verne and HG Wells part of the early secret Space Force?” Jon asked.
Berger seemed amused. “How old do you suppose I am?”
“Age is irrelevant. You can tell me. I am practically in Space Force, right?” Jon said.
“You’re in,” Berger said. “How old am I?”
Jon frowned. “You appear to be thirty, but I’d bet you’d have to be in your late forties or fifties to be an admiral,” Jon said.
“I am 172 years old. I have been rejuvenated twice,” Berger said.
Jon heard a Beatles song in his head. “Yellow Submarine.” In the animated rendition of the song, the 1968 movie, the occupants of the Yellow Sub went into space. They rapidly aged. The clocks were turned back and they were regressed back to their youthful vigor. They time traveled. They went up against dinosaurs and aliens, known as the Blue Meanies. Afar Lumière was made of gold. Jon swallowed as a new song swept his brain. “When are you gonna come down?” ‘from space?’ “When are you going to land?” ‘Any planet would be nice.’ “I should have stayed on the farm.” ‘Earth!’ “I should have listened to my old man.” ‘Old man, the Admiral?’ “You know you can't hold me forever. I didn't sign up with you.” ‘Serving in Space Force is not voluntary. Everyone serves.’ “I'm not a present for your friends to open. This boy's too young to be singing, the blues. So, goodbye yellow brick road…” And then he was back to the Beatles. “All our friends are all on board. Many more of them live next door… As we live a life of ease, every one of us has all we need.”
Eos interrupted Jon. “All you need is love.”
Berger watched as Jon ‘traveled’ internally, waiting patiently for Jon’s return. Jon’s eyes focused. He seemed slightly embarrassed having been gone away for so long. He made a pretense of sipping his wine to overcome.
“You want to share?” Berger asked.
“You don’t have access?” Jon asked.
“I am sufficiently confident in myself that I don’t need to know everything,” Berger said. “I leave the mind reading stuff to the AI. Lumi would tell me if it were relevant.”
“You call her Lumi?” Jon asked.
Berger motioned with his hand. Together they were ‘seemingly’ transported. They were in the same space, as if floating, and yet simultaneously they were in a different place all together super imposed and separate. Every object in the library was visible, no shadows. It was as if this were an empty movie frame full of light with each object cut from another frame and pasted in. The pervasive light was blue, like sky blue, only it felt like sustained lightening having lit up the place. The second room was just a floor with dome canopy where Jon, Berger, Eos, and Lumi stood together in conference mode.
“Be at peace, Jon. Eos and I have you.” This was Lumi, the ship’s primary personality interface. She was regal and statuesque as Captain Janeway. Again he had the impression of age. Mrs. Muir came to mind, from the original movie, which complimented the Admiral’s look. There were other personalities one could access in the ship’s system, but she held the same rank as the Admiral, and there decisions were one and the same. She was gestalt of the ship’s AI, Admiral Berger, General Abebe, and a third that was not identified. The third was often anonymous, and not necessarily crew. The third could be a permanent resident on the ship, and didn’t have to be human. It could be a cat for that matter. Lumi was the emergent archetype, the result of merging personalities. Should any of the assigned interface die or be replace, the personality would change, not out of spite- but out of harmonic resonance. Jon knew this, but he felt the truth of it somatically here, as if he could discern Berger and Abebe in this mind space. He wondered if this was really her look, or his thoughts of Mrs. Muir influenced what he saw.
“Swing low,” Berger said.
Jon found himself back in his body’s perspective. He swallowed. Lumi was definitely a Force to reckon with.
“Nice to meet you, Lumi,” Jon said.
“Ever been High before?” Berger said, referring to ‘high conference’ where the mind is captured up into a virtual frame so that multiple parties can communicate in the ‘cloud.’
“All the time,” Jon said. “Simulations with Eos, mostly. An occasional town meeting on Mars. None were ever so bright.”
“That’s Lumi’s initiation signature,” Berge said. “Care to share your previous thought.”
“I am afraid I lost it,” Jon said.
Berger nodded, sipped his mimosa. He didn’t need to challenge Jon’s lie. Jon was about to take another sip, but was startled by the sudden presence of Jekel, climbing down to sit next to him. He closed his eyes to settle his brain. Often when returning from his mind, the real world startled him. It was louder and things coming out of the periphery took a moment to register, and when they did- they seemed more threatening- maybe because he believed he should have been aware of it.
“Nervous much?” Jekel asked, putting an arm around him.
Jon glanced at the Admiral, to see if she noticed who he was sharing company with. Her approach seems way too casual given present company.
“Yeah,” Jekel said. “I gave formal On high. My approach was green lighted.”
“I hear you two are an item,” Berger said.
Jekel smiled. Jon frowned. Jekel gave Jon a look. He sighed.
“Admiral,” Jon said.
“You know my rank. It’s Ian, or Berger. I prefer you call me Ian,” Berger corrected.
Jon nodded.
“Go on, say what you were going to say,” Jekel said.
Jon looked to Berger. “I am 52, real time earned. Jekel is 28 years old. In terms of beauty, on a ten scale, she’s a 12. I am, and will likely forever be, completely at her disposal.”
Jekel laughed and kissed him. “At least you know I am not out for your money.”
“There’s that,” Jon said.
“But you’re confused as to why a 12 might like you?” Berger said.
“I am still caught up in the old Earth, economic exchange theory of human interaction, and so yes, her interest confuses me,” Jon admitted.
“Well, I come from an older paradigm where we should respect our elders,” Jekel said.
“Respect and fuck are two different things,” Jon said.
“Not according to Aretha,” Jekel said.
“What?”
“OMG, Jon. Seriously, I have to spell it out for you?” Jekel asked.
Jekel and Berger both sang it. “R.E.S.P.E.C.T. Find out what it means for me. R.E.S.P.E.C.T. Take care, TCB…”
Jon resisted a smile. Jekel leaned in. “You love it, own it. I am with you until you say otherwise.”
“We should head to the table,” Berger said, standing.
They followed Berger to the dining table where everyone had a moment to introduce themselves. A witch, her knee length hair braided into a tail, sat on the Captain’s left. Jon realized she was staring and he refused to look away first. She had two different eye colors, not tech related. “Jillian. I am a Seer.” Everyone knew that meant she was practiced in the art of Remote Viewing. Consistent with the calling, she had given up her last name. She shifted her eyes to another guest. Kriss Perry identified himself. “I am going to be a Fleet Admiral when I grow up.” Berger said, “I will stand in good company on that day,” and they toasted drinks. Kriss had a mimosa without the alcohol; it bubbled with carbonation. The reptilian was an officer in Space Force, a scout pilot- he identified himself has Transit, and named his ship as well, as with most pilots, they didn’t consider themselves as single individuals; he was married to Mercy. He carried a Torch which contained his ship’s personality, and on entering his ship, the interface took over all tech. Rarely ever did an interface stay locked up in a scout ship, but rather followed the designated pilot the same as Eos followed Jon. In many ways, Transit was comparable to a Seeker. Most senior level officers carried a Torch, in the same tradition that the military used to present swords as symbol of service. The personal interface served as their protectors and confidants. No one in Space Force traveled alone. There were twelve guests at the table all together, not counting their companions. General Abebe was there. So was Jekel’s father. Doctor Dan Jekel. He led with a joke: “And no, I do not have a hidden personality named Hyde. I am a recombined Bruce Banner and intelligent, compassionate Hulk hybrid.” Jekel’s friend introduced himself as Tobias Becker.
“Toby?” Jon made the mistake saying out loud.
“No one calls me Toby,” Becker said.
“Not Toby,” Jon corrected himself.
“That is the question,” Berger said.
Only Jekel laughed. “Come on. Toby or not Toby. That’s funny.”
“Please, be seated,” Berger said. He was the last to sit.
Jon immediately fell on the Kibbeh and Potato Latke. He seemed startled by a server who reached past him to take the empty plate.
“You seem a bit jumpy,” Becker said.
“He doesn’t like space travel,” Jillian said.
“How can you not like space travel?” Kriss asked.
“It’s a bit noisy,” Jon said.
“No noise means you’re dead,” Becker said. “If you ever hear silence, you have maybe six minutes to get to a life raft or suit.”
Jon nodded. He understood that. Still the noise bothered him. The vibration through the deck plate bothered him. Many people likened the sound to that of a cat’s purr, but he likened to that of a lioness comforting its prey even as it ate it.
“You seem a bit melancholy for a Seeker,” Becker said.
Becker’s eyes shifted to daughter Jekel who flashed disproval in his direction.
“What? We’re free to speak our minds here,” Becker said.
Berger affirmed this table was designated free speech.
“There’s are children present,” Jekel said.
“Not at this table,” Kriss said.
“Sorry,” Jekel said, reverently.
“The way I see it, you’re a danger to this mission. Your negativity could get us all killed,” Becker said.
Jekel was going to say something but she felt Jon’s hand squeeze her knee. He finished chewing his Kibbeh, sipped his wine, and then waited a second. The fact that no one responded or filled in the silence was impressive, almost as if it were a test. If it was uncomfortable, it was only uncomfortable for Jon. Jillian stared hard, studying him. Transit kept eating. Dan seemed curious why his daughter was silent, as if he had never experienced that person before.
Jon stared at his drink. “It must be difficult being positive all the time.”
“What do you mean?” Becker said.
“Well, we all can’t be you, Gaston,” Jon said.
Jekel almost choked on her drink.
“Yeah we can,” Becker argued. “You just set your mind to it.”
“That’s the difficulty I am referring to. Holding an ‘I can do anything’ mindset in a limited human container, sir, is more likely to get you killed than a natural pessimism that’s built on a rational sense that it’s not all good,” Jon said. “Dead puppies suck. Babies with cancer suck. If you’re not appropriately affected by this, I would have to wonder about your set point.”
“You can’t get stuck on things. You got to push forwards and overcome,” Becker said. “You’re fucking the hottest woman on the ship and you’re still melancholy? You have access to more material wealth and knowledge than everyone on Earth, and you’re still sucking the life out of this room.”
Jon nodded. “I apologize to the room,” Jon said. “If it helps anyone, I know I am intensely introverted at times, but I assure you, I am perfectly content. I am listening. I am aware of the emotions around me. I am extremely grateful for this community.”
“Contentment is insufficient to drive you to success. You have to want it. You have to fight for it,” Becker said.
“That doesn’t seem artificial to you?” Jon asked. “I mean, if you only surround yourself with positive people, no negativity- when something disastrous happens, you’re not going to be able to tolerate the fall out. They set up cancer groups to help people have a sense of community, but if you get excommunicated because you had one day where depression was greater than your positivity, that rather defeats the purpose of the group. ‘Sorry, you’re bringing us down, Bruce. You’re off the show-goodbye weakest link.’”
“This not a cancer group,” Becker said. “Nor is it a recovery group for depression.”
“Good, cause I am not depressed, but I will resist your forced positivity,” Jon said.
“I guess that’s why they brought me on, to save your ass despite yourself,” Becker said.
“Actually, that’s my job,” Jekel said.
“To save me from the Blue Meanies?” Jon asked.
“You have blue balls?” Kriss asked.
Jon blushed.
“No. I cured him,” Jekel said.
“That means you did have it? It’s like cooties?” Kriss asked.
“I am uncomfortable with the direction this conversation is going,” Doctor Jekel said.
“He’s going to get you killed,” Becker told daughter Jekel.
“No,” Jillian said. “She will survive. I see her in a future moment. She is well. So is her child.”
“What?” both Jekels, Becker, and Jon said.
“Who is going to die?” Kriss asked.
“We never ask that,” Abebe said.
“Well, I just asked that,” Kriss said.
Jillian’s eyes were distant- her mind was answering the question.
“Don’t speak it,” Berger instructed.
“The cast is set,” Jillian said. “The game is in play.”
“That sounds ominous,” Transit said. He raised his glass. “To the future children.”
Glasses came up to salute, some hesitantly.