Carpathian Forty-Three

Carpathian Forty-Three - Part 19

Sometimes I dream about the Chorus. It's been years, and still, I hear the voices, the thoughts, the emotions, the togetherness, when I'm quiet, my mind idle. Meditation helps, when I can find time to do it, to concentrate on just being settled, just being Stephen. I don't know what a normal person's mind is like, don't know what it's like to have only my own thoughts pulling my attention this way and that. There are still echoes of the Chorus, snippets of thought, smells, feelings that aren't mine, that were lodged there when I was connected to the rest of the Enhanced Humans and the Quantum Sentience on Luna.

The dreams are pale memories compared to the dreaming of The Chorus. Thousands of unconscious minds, exploring the communal id, guided by the Sentience that runs on quantum computers in datacenters scattered across the surface and below the surface of Luna. It was a gentle guiding, a suggestion of a direction, the hint of a breadcrumb trail as we explored our fears, our desires, ideas, and concepts beyond the ken of a single mind. They were so clear when I was part of The Chorus. Now they are pale, fuzzy shadows of idea, memory, like looking at a beautiful tapestry through a gauze covered tube.

Medical is Ward's domain, but Ward's not here. Asleep, I suppose. Carpathian Forty-Three isn't different on the night shift than the day shift. Some people are asleep. Other than that, everything is the same. The lighting from the strips of LEDs isn't turned down for the night shift because they're never turned up for the day shift. Night and Day are Earth ideas. Luna has Night and Day; they last a month and have little to do with when you wake or sleep.

Miki's breathing is slow and steady. I can almost hear it, almost feel it, but mostly I watch their chest rise and fall slowly. I wonder if they dream the same pale memory of The Chorus as I do. I'm avoiding the anxiety at hand. I'm avoiding contemplating what I'll experience in such proximity to their mind, when I get past my current self-righteous huff and take over operations of the ship. I'm not ready to admit that I'll do it to the rest of the crew, I still have some anger to smolder. I'm afraid though, more than anything. Afraid of what sliver of The Chorus I'll connect with in Miki, what memory of me, of Acosta is there. I'm afraid of my own memories, leaking through, sharing the pain we all felt that day.

"You don't need to be afraid, Stephen."

Fort sees everything, everywhere. They know us all so well. So much goes unsaid. Sometimes they'll drop a sentence into a conversation, or a moment when you need it. Like now. When I need to hear a little bit of reassurance.

Fort's gone. My mind made up the reassurance. It's a trick of imagination and desire, stress looking for connection where none is to be had.

I hear Thak approaching before I see them. The deck plating on The Ring is stamped iron alloy covered with an afterthought of carpeting, now worn thin, to the point that the alloy underneath is visible in places. It echoes footsteps across The Ring, well ahead of whoever trod there. It must be Thak because the footsteps are light. Ward is more brutish, thicker.

"Wondered if you'd be here," they say, walking into medical.

"I'm here," I say.

I didn't want to remember Acosta. Obviously, I did though. Ward of all people. They got me to talk about it? I'm amused at the whole concept.

"How are they?" Thak asks, settling into a chair next to the bed. They deflate into it. It's been a lot these last few days.

"Fine? I suppose? They seem peaceful enough."

"Oh. I thought maybe... Well. You've been angry long enough. I supposed you'd dove into the ship's systems."

"Not yet. Not without telling them first," I say. Thak is the pragmatist. They see the ebbs and flows of people. It's how they work our contracts and money. They know when to buy fuel, air, water. Understand the cycles of the vendors and our customers, maximize our sales, minimize our purchases. It's no wonder they know the crew's cycles as well.

"Rhi and Roz?" I ask.

The captain and engineer have a past, and a present apparently. Rhianu was ready to fling Miki out the airlock after the accident the knocked Beta off the outside of the ship. Well, maybe not actually fling them, but Rhi has been more emotional than we're used to.

"I dunno," Thak says, dismissively. "I don't pretend to know why they keep separating and then crashing back into each other. I don't want to know I suppose. They're crashed into each other now it would seem. There was yelling and throwing of objects if the sounds are any indication. They're fine."

I don't know how I feel about that. Good? I suppose? They each need someone. Rhianu is dealing with cancer diagnosis. Rosalie is dealing with the decision to wake Miki. We're all dealing with the loss of Fort. It's a lot. More for them, than the rest of us.

"You didn't push," I say, about the decision that I'll take on Operations of the ship, to take Fort's place, as much as I can. We still need Miki's computational power to execute the braking and rendezvous burn, but the day-to-day running of the ship, my dormant implants can handle that.

"'Eh, not much time to, and I knew you'd do the right thing."

"I'm that transparent?"

"You are."

I sigh, thinking I was mysterious.

"What are you worried about?" Thak asks.

Everything. Can I handle the mass of input from the ship? Will it give me flashbacks? Will I see memories of me in the grain of Chorus that lives in Miki? Will I infect her with the memory of the building collapse that the Quantum Sentience of the Chorus couldn't handle?

"A few things," I say sheepishly.

Thak watches Miki for a moment, the whirring of air handlers and ticking of the medical monitors filling the space.

"I don't blame her. It's a lot to take on, be thrust into. They keep sending them out younger and younger, don't they?"

"You're just old Thak," I say.

"True enough. It's not going to matter who they see when they wake up. Well. It'd be bad if Rhi was here when they wake up. Why don't you get some sleep? I can sit watch."

I consider it. Am I tired? That I must ask myself is telling. I want to be the one that's here when Miki wakes up. It's not particularly logical, but we're all running on more than a bit of adrenaline.

I let my shoulders relax, feel the tension drop out of them down to the deck. Yeah. I'm tired. Thak takes it all in. I don't need to answer, they already see it. I get up to head to my quarters.

"Stephen. Thank you. I don't know why it's difficult, but I see it's difficult. Thank you," they say, reaching that dark, stubby Martian hand to grab my skinny, pale forearm. They don't want to know why. They don't need to know why unless I want them to. I don't.

"Yeah. Thanks Thak," I say.