During the night Kodiak’s body convulses, and the frantic shudder is enough to wake me out of a sound sleep. “Shh, shh,” I say as his body pitches against mine, as all the muscles of his neck tense, as his head crushes against my lips, filling my mouth with the scent of blood.
“My Kodiak,” I say, crying. “I love you.”
I don’t know if he’s heard me.
I hold him in case he shudders again, but he goes still. I stroke his hair, hug him close.
His body is cooling.
The scent of him has turned acrid now that he’s dead, and I can’t stand to be alongside his body. I unhitch therestraints and ease my way over his corpse, stand shivering in the room.
Grief opens its jaws under me. I am at risk of collapsing here, of never getting back up. I know it’s only a short matter of time until I succumb. “Move. Now,” I order myself aloud.
We were never going to reach a nearby planet. Kodiak just needed to feel like he had some control over his destiny. I was willing to honor that.
But I don’t have that same need.
I want an Ambrose and a Kodiak to eventually get off this ship. I want them to have a chance to live their lives together. Their happiness will be ours and not ours. That’s the most I can hope for.
No, don’t do anything, another part of my mind begs.Just collapse here, just suffer and wallow.
Eyes streaming tears, I stamp my feet against my sorrow, punch my thighs.
For our eventual selves to have a chance of living a life that’s better than this one, there’s one ally we’ll need. There’s no way theCoordinated Endeavorcan get anywhere without OS. Not this cobbled-together OS Prime, with its manual navigation. The original OS. The legacy of my mother.
No need to worry about radiation exposure, not withwhat I’m planning. I clamber up into the engine room and set about undoing Kodiak’s last efforts.
Kodiak doesn’t look peaceful. He looks haggard and sallow and pained. The torture the ship put him through is scratched into his features, even in death. When I touch his body, hair drifts from his head, forming a soft pile on the floor.
I curl around his corpse, wrap my arms around his chest, strap us both in. I call up my bracelet’s in-air display, and hover over the final step of the program I’ve set up.
I tap execute. With that gesture, OS Prime is deleted.
I tap execute. With that gesture, the original OS is reinstalled.
There’s a click and a whir, then the lights go out. When they come back on, it’s with my mother’s voice. “There has been an accident, Ambrose. You have been in a coma. I’ll let you know when you can move.”
I chuckle darkly. “It’s still me, OS. I’m not a new clone.”
Rover ticks around the walls of the next room over. I can sense OS sizing up the situation, assessing me and Kodiak, deciding the best course.
I know OS well enough by now to predict what decision it will make.
I pull Kodiak’s body tight to mine. “I love you,” I say. I hadn’t ever said that, not until the moment he was dying. I wish now that I’d had the courage.
Just as I expected, from far off in the ship I hear the airlock shudder as it engages. Rover’s movements become more frantic as it puts things away, securing them beneath the heavy latches of the cabinets. As soon as it’s finished, the end will start.
I scrunch my eyes shut, tears streaming down my cheeks.
I don’t want to die. I want to live.
But I want my future self to have its best chance. And for that I must die.
It’s going to hurt so much.
Vision muddled by my tears, I tighten the straps around us. I scream against the tension coursing through my body.
How long will dying last?
