Once, these periphery corridors had been crowded with commuters, eager to gaze upon the vastness of space for the first time. But just like with everything, people quickly grew boredwith the sight of stars and distant galaxies. And now Iris was alone, interrupted only by the occasional service staff watching media on their break. As a Vessel, he had the clearances to speak with the Doshua AI directly, but then his own, less powerful one would be jealous that its services were neglected. Here, away from the crowds and the perpetual hum of the station, Iris had the luxury of sparing the few extra minutes. He allowed VIFAI to work at its own pace and for himself to study the spaceship in blissful silence.
Centuries before Iris was born, First Earth generation ships left their cradle in search of habitable worlds. Pressured by rapidly collapsing ecosystems, those with the means looked to other planets for a second chance, leaving the majority of the population behind. Archaeological records indicated each generation ship had been largely homogenous in religious makeup, suggested by preserved artifacts and digital records. Fueled by relentless faith, the colonists had scattered across the cosmos in search of their own, personal, Edens. It was an easy exercise not to pass judgment on those who ran. If the world was burning around him and escape wasright there, Iris would have done the same.
But fate had had a different ending in mind and the simultaneous development of gate travel rendered the same ships obsolete before a single one ever reached its destination. There was no precise way to locate them, contact them, or to recover them mid-flight, so they were declared lost to the cosmos and committed to history books. Over the past hundreds of years, several had popped up in distant corners of the galaxy. They made their slow approach in silence, manned by nothing more than crumbling skeletons and ancient navigational systems. Every once in a while, the steady gravitational pull of a planet would be enough to place them in orbit until they were safelydisposed of or dissected, their carcasses dragged off to various research institutes.
TheNicaeahad already proven special. It was the first generation ship to exit gate space independently and the first to plant itself in stable orbit near a station, an object far too small to produce its own gravitational pull. Iris nursed a timid hope that aboard, he would find many oddities, treasures from First Earth, and remnants of cultures long lost to the gravity wells of time. Strange folklore and superstition, honed over years of complete isolation, usually adorned the corridors and living quarters of generation ships. He quietly yearned for a space that someone had lived in, that someone had made a home.
The Northern Temple had been “home” for many years, yet his room, now vacant, could easily be occupied by a novice, as it had by him. No one would notice the difference because there would be none. The same sleeping mat would be rolled out by the wall, the same glow sphere would cast shadows when night came. Not a single remnant of Iris would be in that space, no memory of him, a space forever borrowed and never his own.
With a faint vibration at Iris’s temple, VIFAI presented its compiled findings on theNicaeaacross his field of vision. Station AI would have completed the task in under a second; it had taken VIFAI over two minutes. Still, Iris sensed a faint, yet noticeable flare of pride from his companion, and he wouldn’t dare extinguish that fragile emotion.
TheCounsel of Nicaeahad been in flight for more than a thousand years. By a sheer miracle, it had avoided destruction by a meteor strike in its travels. The ship originally left First Earth with a little over a thousand people, although it was impossible to predict what the numbers would resemble when Iris went aboard. But a thousand souls! Generation ships never housed any surviving passengers, save for the one orbitingP’Ilani, and station AI had confirmed this with its preliminary scans moments after theNicaeaemerged from gate space. But it would still take Iris weeks, if not months, to find and lay to rest over one thousand people.
One bare foot placed carefully ahead of the other, Iris made his way to the shuttle gates as he skimmed over the files and annotations VIFAI had produced. Once there, he would board a single-person, unmanned craft, smaller than his room at the Northern Temple. The shuttle would deliver him to one of the operational airlocks on theNicaea, so the exciting part of his assignment could begin. This part of his journey had been automated for his convenience: Iris had no piloting skills, nor any inclination to develop them, convinced that his neuroses would make him jumpy at the controls.
The shuttle doors were programmed to open after completing a retinal scan, the data for which had been uploaded before Iris ever set foot on the station. Once aboard theNicaea, he could bask in glorious solitude. Maybe a station security official would accompany him once or twice, as they tended to do, until they grew bored with a Vessel’s routine and resigned to let Iris come and go as he pleased.
Long before he ever reached Doshua, Iris had decided he would spend all of his available time on theNicaea, avoiding the forty-minute commute from the station to the ship. He was hoping some of the hydroponic systems had survived, and he would be able to make his own food. If not, he could always fast. It wouldn’t be his first nor his last. Any fast up to a week was doable, but if he continued working on theNicaeafor weeks on end, he would have to return to the station to replenish his provisions, as arduous a task as it would be.Nothing quite like an automated shuttle to make you feel at ease,Iris thought cheerfully as the shuttle doors shut silently behind him.
The chances of an automated shuttle breaking down are very low, but never zero,VIFAI said with a playful tickle, an electrical nudge of laughter at Iris’s brain stem.
Taking a seat at the piloting console—purely ceremonial as he would have no ability to steer the shuttle—Iris unwound the mala from his wrist and ran the strand between his fingers. With each count, he uttered a mantra to accompany the bead.
“I am free from hatred and from anger. I am free from desire and craving. I am the empty Vessel of the cosmos, the mouthpiece of the Light.” The shuttle began to vibrate and hum as it initiated the launch sequence. Space travel was relatively safe. Yet, being intimately aware of just how many people perished every year in its relative safety, Iris was inclined to err on the side of caution.
“Speak through me and only in virtue will I repeat your words. Speak through me so that I may be the balm for those needing relief. Command my body to move in your image, and I will be the guide to those lost and seeking you.” Iris’s top lip twitched in a small smirk. Those words did not belong to him. They were reserved for the Beacons, whose sole responsibility was to travel and teach the word of the Starlit. He had picked up the verses while scrubbing the gaps between the hallway tiles and eavesdropping on the Beacons’ prayer. He had a foul habit of doing that.
A faint sandalwood aroma wafted through the cramped shuttle cabin as Iris ran the beads through his fingers. “My friend, rejoice, for there is no you, and there is no me. The Light is your flesh as it is starlight. The Light is these words as it is the blood in your veins. Rejoice that in the touch of a lover you know the touch of the Divine. Rejoice that in your last breath you learn what it is to be the cosmos.” Iris opened his eyes, not realizing he had closed them. This was his favourite one,the five verses reserved only for the Vessels. Five verses that he would say over every single passenger he found aboard theNicaeaas he returned them to the One Beginning. These five verses werehisand his alone.
Outside the palm-sized observation window, the station fell away, quickly replaced by the growing hull of theNicaea, dark and imposing. Growing closer, the imperfections and hundreds of patches along the once-smooth exterior were hard to ignore. Meteorites, blown apart by the canons, had rained debris along the tight paneling, scratching deep gashes as they passed. Over and over, for a thousand years. TheNicaeahad taken beating after beating without reprieve.
What a wreck,VIFAI said.
She was strong enough to get this far.
It doesn’t take much to follow inertia,VIFAI chimed up as the shuttle came to a stop with a last burst from the stabilizers. Now came the important part: The shuttle would “knock” and the ship would “answer” before any doors opened or any docking took place. Even old ships, without an AI construct navigating their journeys, could perform a function this simple.
Well, this isn’t good.
Problem?
This ship is so old it has no general operating system or AI pilot running it. Not that I can find. Doshua should have told me about this. Station is getting forgetful in its old age. I won’t get any information about what we can expect to find inside. I’m effectively blind and mute.
Without a general operating system running a ship or a ship AI presiding over it, VIFAI had no one to ask questions and no one to give it answers. It lacked the configuration to speak to all the various parts of the ship or open doors, shut off lights, or really do much of anything of value. Yet, when the shuttle “knocked,” blindly following protocol, the ship welcomed itinside and presented the closest airlock for docking. The lights were clearly on, even when no one could possibly be home. Still following protocol and without questioning the peculiarity of what had just transpired, the shuttle fired its stabilizing thrusters and moved to dock.
Odd.
Maybe you missed it,Iris suggested cautiously, ignoring the rising hairs along his neck.
A ship this size, me missing its AI would be like you missing a temple while standing at its gates,VIFAI bit back.
A foolish remark, Iris admitted. He picked up his duffel bag from the floor and walked over to the airlock. The instant the doors parted, a current of warm, humid air filled the modest airlock to the brim. A cacophony of earthy smells from otherworldly florals and other abundant alien flora flooded Iris’s senses with their sweet musk. The heavy silks of Vessel robes, made to withstand dry heat were instantly soaked with fresh sweat and condensation and clinging to his back and thighs. “Feels like home,” he said with a small chuckle as he wiped his forehead.
A dark, moss-lined corridor greeted him just beyond the airlock doors. Moss covered every surface, running up the walls and weaving a patchwork of green around the flickering light panels. In some spots, it bled a deep blue, so heavy it was nearly black. Fat droplets of condensation settled along most horizontal spots, clear and bulbous. Iris wriggled his toes against the soft, squishy ground with every step.
Down the corridor, the carpet of moss gave way to an array of vines. Their lithe bodies had pried open the doors, pulling the two halves apart. Large, yellow blossoms ran along their length, reaching through cracks in the composite of ceiling panels. Breaking the first rule of walking barefoot through generationships, Iris reached out and placed his palm flat against one of the vines. A pulse played beneath his fingers with the steady rhythm of an unseen heart.Peculiar,Iris told VIFAI.Make a recording of this, please.
Above him, the vines converged in an organic trellis, punctuated with more heavy, yellow blossoms. When Iris removed his hand from the vine, the flower closest to him furled its three petals inwards and released a fragrant puff before retreating into the vine at once. Ignoring the second rule of walking barefoot through generation ships, Iris inhaled the sweet perfume the flower had left for him.
