The Twins of Demeter: Science Fiction with a Faith Perspective

By Joseph Koncelik

Two hundred years from now, the earth is past the point of recovery from exploitation by humankind. Pollution of all kinds, human-induced climate change and overpopulation, have all contributed to the generally held belief that the human species will be nearing the end of days on earth. An international collaboration of scientists convinces governments that investing in the creation and construction of massive spaceships and sending these ships to inhabitable worlds somewhere among other galactic so-called Goldilocks Zone planetary systems is the salvation of the human species. The journey will require a century to reach Antares 987, a planet orbiting a star named Demeter. After years of design and orbital construction, three starships""Andromeda, Aquarius, and Cassiopeia""are completed and ready for launch in the year 2222. Aboard these vessels are three thousand unborn children in stasis chambers, divided between the three ships. Three female cyborg organics, connected to artificial intelligence, are on-board capable of operation of the ships throughout the journey""and one male, brought aboard for the purpose of teaching three ideas central to the creation of community: empathy, compassion, and sacrifice. Without this teaching, it is deemed community will fail when new generations are born, based upon the example of earth's human history. The story, a saga of a kind, is divided into three parts. The first covers the journey and the establishment of community. The second part posits the idea that humankind is God's ultimate evangelist and that faith is abundant throughout the universe among all living things""including unknown inhabitants of the planet. The third part confronts humankind with the necessity of continued vigilance and a failing planet. The only alternative is an exodus to another world, a world with many dangers and challenges. It also establishes the continuance of evangelism through calling and confronts the children of the stars with the additional presence of other beings. The Twins of Demeter was written with the intention of creating a science fiction that emphasizes positive opportunities if the human species chooses to seek refuge somewhere else in God's universe. The book is devoid of the "little green men" concept of extraterrestrial life-forms. The text builds upon the premise that humankind is God's ultimate creation who flourishes when faith is part of everyday life and community is the sustaining foundation of survival and progress as a species.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 28, 2019
• ISBN: 9781645158905

Book preview

1

The Secret of Aquarius

Commissioner Jason Darke used his military forbearance gained over thirty years in the Army, retiring as a major general, and his voice of command—as well as his gavel—to quiet the two hundred members of the OHYSC, the One-Hundred-Year Starship Commission, one more time. The launch date for Andromeda, Cassiopeia, and Aquarius was at hand, just three days away. While this sometimes-unruly world body made up of scientists, philosophers, psychologists, computer geeks, and engineers had been able to reach agreement on the conformation of this mission to colonize worlds beyond the solar system, arguments persisted—and would arise spontaneously whenever key words arose from anyone in the assembly. The disciplines involved blended like oil and water. The trick was to keep stirring the mixture and not let disciplinary separation occur that would deadlock meaningful discussion and disable resolution. Given any opportunity to separate and argue, it would happen. After eight years of running this organization and frequently using a heavy hand, Commissioner Darke knew the signs well. He brought down his heavy gavel repeatedly until the arm-waving and verbal exchanges subsided, and then he spoke in his deep authoritarian voice.

"I want to remind this august body just what has been accomplished here. We were able to leverage the resources from the world’s wealthiest countries, the most powerful corporations on earth, and private citizenry to stand three days away from a launch of humankind to the stars. We will have sent humankind into the heavens to colonize other planets in this year of 2222—a monumental achievement especially since it was international and interdisciplinary. We will have proven the inverse or null hypothesis of the Fermi-Hart Paradox, and now some other civilization elsewhere in the universe will likely say, ‘If there is life on other planets, where is the evidence?’"

It was an inside joke, but to this highly educated audience, it was raucous stand-up comedy, and he received the laughter he had counted on in order to achieve the unity for the next order of business. Darke continued, Now that we have shown the way to sending humanity heavenward, let us turn our attention to the alternative direction that is considered impossible. We have been on a heading away from the difficult—some consider impossible—tasks involved in cleaning up this planet. Let us continue the commission and use the power we have gained for saving earth. We raised nearly one hundred trillion dollars in American currency to create this mission. Why not raise the capital necessary and mobilize the human resources to save this planet?

The room in the Washington Hilton conference hall went quiet. Delegates to this commission conference had not been prepared to have the tables turned on them. They thought they were going home, and they were prepared to watch their home planet sink into an entropic miasma. After all, they had developed the Andromeda Project in response to the widely held opinion that earth was lost and launching humankind into the unknown toward the stars was the last hope of survival of the species. What Darke was charging them with had not been their original purpose. Designing, configuring, building, populating, and launching the one-hundred-year starship had been their purpose, and now it seemed it was time to go home and breathe in the polluted air that swept around the earth. However, from the back of the conference room, one person began slowly clapping. He was followed by another and then more clapping. Soon the room was clapping vigorously and standing—even cheering. They would not go home, or perhaps they would return after kissing wives and children not seen in months. They would begin the task of saving earth—far more complicated than the starship program—and commanding hundreds of times the resources they had raised for starships. Darke spoke again. I require a motion to extend the mission to saving earth.

Several spoke at once, I so move!

Without asking, several others said, Second!

Darke said, looking sternly from the podium, I cannot believe there will be any dissension, but is there any discussion? He looked around briefly and said, Hearing none, all those in favor say aye.

The room gave what seemed to be unanimous approval to the motion and then again broke into resounding applause. Those who might have objected remained silent. Everyone knew that the euphoria of the moment would have a very short half-life, and then the plodding would begin along with the arguing. Their fund-raisers would turn to the same bankrupt countries, overwealthy corporations and penny-pinching corporate owners who needed to be blackmailed, cajoled, and browbeaten the last time they were asked to cough up resources. Would that be the process again? Alternatively, was there any kind of momentum generated around the nearly successful approach that now had three starships in earth orbit, ready to launch away from this planetary system and find a new home for humankind? They would use the power of international communications to bleed contributions from twenty percent of the twenty billion earth residents to fulfill this new mission, and they would tax wealth mercilessly until clean water flowed down the Hudson River. Yes, it was to the benefit of everyone, and humankind had waited far too long to act in favor of resurrecting natural ecology, seemingly preferring to enter a state of crisis. Governments had failed to act, and business had proven irresponsible until the very near end. If it was too late, no one wanted to think that any longer or hear it said. Even if they failed, there was something to be said for an attempt at redemption. Everyone was going down with this ship anyway. Better to make an effort with deathbed conversions than to watch the muck and mire slowly creep up the legs of humanity as they stood sullenly in denial expecting the inexorability of the inevitable doom.

Darke had taken this action on his own volition. He had sought no one’s counsel. The commission had no authority to move from this one starship project to a program of terrestrial resuscitation. Nevertheless, it was worth a try. He had science behind him and weakened governments in front of him. All answers to problems are either good answers or bad answers. No good answer to any problem is a political answer. That simple proposition had finally defeated self-serving political opposition in denial of the planet’s eventual demise. He was prepared to kick down once-battered doors all over again and shake politicians by the throat—if necessary, although he doubted he would be repeating that action. Darke left the podium and was greeted by his colleagues with well-wishing, backslapping, annoying selfies, handshakes, and guarded optimism. He was less than optimistic about gaining a positive outcome that likely would require a sustained effort beyond two generations, but he would try his best to kick-start this idea into a concept that must become a program to clean up earth.

Jason Darke left the conference hall and walked back wearily to his hotel room. He would stay one additional night, so he was not concerned about packing. He also would be turning right around and returning to this very place to rap his gavel on a podium all over again. Those arrangements could wait for the time being. He slumped onto the bed in his suite and lay there, spread-eagle, on his back relishing the quiet and the accomplishments of the day. He closed his eyes and envisioned those three starships orbiting earth awaiting final instructions to hoist sail and tack into an orbit that would have them fly off into the unknown. In fact, that would be exactly what would happen. Each of the three ships were equipped with large solar sails and the analogy to square-rigged sailing ships from four centuries in the past was apt.

If he would have counted off thirty seconds, that would have been all it took before the soft knocking came on his door, ruining his moment of reverie. He closed his eyes briefly and wished whoever it was would go away. The knocking came again. He rose, went, and opened the door and looked out upon four of his organizing committee, his closest advisors. Darke could have anticipated a visit, but he wished he could have been wrong. Compromise, the glue of any decision-making body, hardens and solidifies; but it does not eliminate discord. Therefore, Darke knew he would be visited, but what they wanted to discuss was unknown to him and likely was one or more numerous areas of unresolved debate.

May we talk with you, Commissioner? The entreaty came from Art Baker, a PhD in biomechanical engineering, who, as Darke speculated in his mind, likely organized this group of like-minded individuals. Baker had overseen the design and selection of birthing chambers, the so-called incubatorium invented by his one-time mentor, Dr. Albert Talbott. It was Baker who devised the Andromeda system of chambers in which three thousand incubation modules had been divided and placed aboard the three vessels. It did not take much thinking, as tired as Darke was, to assess why Baker brought this select gathering of others with him to reinforce what he was about to say. There was always that tactic of trying to outnumber someone when you anticipated opposition. Darke knew the tactic well; his ploy would be along the lines of the oft-used method divide and conquer.

Is there any way I can dissuade you from coming in and bending my ear? I am worn-out. Darke knew that saying worn-out would communicate that he was vulnerable, but that was also a tactic, and he had the strength and will to counter their coming protests, whatever they may be.

Hear us now or hear us in the morning at breakfast before we all leave, said Baker.

Darke opened the door wider, turned his back, and went back to his bed where he resumed his position but modified his recline into something semisupine. What is it? I would think you—especially all of you—would be delighted to go forward with something optimistic regarding the fate of earth?

We are, said Baker, our questions have to do with certain aspects of the launch of the one-hundred-year starships in seventy hours.

Interesting…okay, said Darke with a hint of annoyance in his voice. What’s bothering you all?

The others asked me to speak to the points we wish to raise with you, Jason. When I have finished with the questions, they may want to get further clarification, Baker said this with wide brown eyes, staring at Darke as if to measure the veracity of his responses.

"Why is there a birthing chamber placed aboard Aquarius containing the seed, for want of a better term, of a child that potentially…will not be a normal birth? I think you blew one by my team and never informed us of your intentions."

Jason Darke sat upright and forgot about his tiredness. How did you come by this information?

Never mind that now, Jason, said Baker, "is this true, and if so, why!"

"Okay, I ask you…what is it we hope to accomplish when this colonization takes place? Never mind the answer. I don’t want to play games. We want a harmonious community where there is no racial bias or any other trigger for one person or group calling out the distinctions of others. We have instructions that will be given to the passenger placed aboard Andromeda. After his initial contributions to population through the hybridized method of birthing, he will become a teacher of three things to ensure harmony in this community: empathy, compassion, and sacrifice."

Yes, yes…we know all that—and we agreed to it. None of us agreed to this curveball you have thrown at the project. Baker drew back and glanced at the nodding heads around him. Then he continued, As the person in charge of the incubation project, I should have been consulted about such a decision before it was made. I also resent the secret interdiction in my team to make this happen!

Who else knows about this secret birthing chamber? Darke drew back and managed to regain his poise, the poise that had stood him in good stead as the commissioner.

You are looking at the entire collection of those who know, said Baker.

Good…I have a semiautomatic in this nightstand. I can eliminate this problem just by whacking all of you. Well, no, that won’t work because I would have to explain your bodies in my room. Darke was only joking, but he saw a couple of the uninvited stiffen a little. "Let me ask you this: how would you ensure that this community develops the attributes we have agreed should be taught? Do you honestly believe that because an individual learns something academically that it will be absorbed and transferred into behavior?

Well, Jason, some of us are educators, and we have to believe that what we teach has an effect upon those we teach.

"Well then, you are seriously deluded. Not only is information subject to interpretation, it is subject to modification through alteration of memory. What may be thought to be empathy becomes a distortion and is really disdain that has been rationalized. The only way to transfer emotional responses we desire to see implanted in the children of this project is to make the lesson experiential. The children will have to exhibit empathy, compassion, and sacrifice through a real-time real-life experience. That is why, on my own initiative, I bypassed your authority, Art, and convinced our parallel operating medical team to select one birth to take place off the timeline so that the young adult children aboard the vessels develop the appropriate emotional responses to this child. Hopefully, that will implant the behavior as a baseline emotional response in all of their interactions."

One of the uninvited, one Silvia Luxana, said, How in the world did you do it? Our team was in charge of developing the entire incubatorium, and yet you were able to get a chamber into one of the ships without our knowledge.

Silvia, come on now…, said Darke. You know that every medical, engineering, electronics, and computing team had a parallel effort operating at the same time. We all know that one technology solution is never the only answer to any technological problem. The secondary incubation team worked under my direct and secret orders to develop this chamber, and using my authority, I had the chamber installed five days ago.

I find your tactics and this surreptitious planting of this ill-conceived chamber and idea for building community unacceptable. Silvia Luxana raised her nose in the air and gave her statement all the disdain she could muster.

Gee, Silvia, that’s just too firkin’ bad. I’m just all torn up that you aren’t happy with my decision. Go soak your head!

For a moment, it seemed like the group was about to rush Darke as he reclined on his bed, effecting a casual pose of return disdain. One of the other uninvited spoke up. "We deserve respect, Commissioner. You need to explain yourself and realize that your experiential learning concept to imbed a behavior is still a gamble, Commissioner!"

Okay, okay…I was out of line. Of course, it is a gamble…nothing on this voyage is a certainty. If you want certitude, join a cult! We want a community of humans that will overcome the devastating responses to the natural world that has corrupted this planet. Jason Darke thought for a moment and then added, Look, all of you, what would you have me do now…abort the mission? Stop the launch? Is that really what you want? And then what…throw the decision-making back into chaos and return to academic arguments about colonization and the human capacity for violence? No…no, that can’t happen…it just can’t happen. I am not asking you to like my decision to place this birth among the incubators, but you will just have to live with it. As for me, I am willing to live with your enmity because—deep down—I know this is the right thing to do…and it is already done!

Baker was fuming but seemed to be musing this response from the commissioner and finally spoke. We threw out eugenics because perfection is unattainable, and we were convinced that diversity gave humankind the best chance for success. I am not sure that this does not press diversity just too far. However, I understand your argument, Jason. I wish you had brought us in on it…just as a matter of trust.

I am sorry about that, Art, but I felt it best to keep the lid of this one. In my opinion, this female child—yes, it is a female child—just may be the savior of this community. She just might give the first generation of children the focus they need and help us prevent our fear of a ‘Cain and Abel’ scenario.

What if you are wrong? This came from another of the uninvited. What if they learn of the chamber and jettison it before birth?

Unlikely, said Darke, "only the organic cyborg aboard Aquarius knows about this chamber. She is programmed…instructed…to inform the others after the birth of the child, and also after she has replicated a nunmomics care-droid for the child’s care. In any case, we will have failed even before the birth of this child if that attitude of violence surfaces among even some of the first generation."

What measures have you taken to prevent such an occurrence? This was Art Baker again, following up on the previous question.

Our passenger has military experience and was a commercial space pilot. I have instructional data in the AI of all three ships that would move to make him a captain aboard the ship if circumstances call for authority beyond the management of the organic cyborg life-forms. Now…is there anything else? Darke looked around at the faces. He saw withdrawal, and that was likely the best he could hope to achieve. "Well then, I would ask all of you to get busy thinking and discussing this next charge to save planet earth. Colonization of other planets may well be in our nature—even our God-given command, not only to survive as a species but to spread out among the stars and…evangelize! That got the uninvited visitors moving to the door. Darke followed with, God be with all of you!" He turned over to take a nap with a wry smile on his face. He thought to himself as they left, Damned science-minded secularist agnostics!

However, Jason Darke had now been aroused and was not able to nap. The birthing chamber that so concerned his uninvited visitors was only part of the test for those aboard all three starships. He knew that the ships would link just beyond breaking outer orbit from the solar system, and he knew that their first problems were trivial in comparison to those set by his entire team. The first-born generation of Homo Sapiens Genesis offspring, or HSGs, would make discoveries about their voyage and about their vessels that would either fuse everyone into a community and a family or they would never succeed at colonization. The much-discussed tendency for violence among the human species had resulted in an implantation of a so-called Cain and Abel scenario to be fomented by the Andromeda cyborg. It was a test, but one that could easily go awry and scuttle the mission. All the problems could be overcome with ingenuity and perhaps some luck. The probability of success, mathematically calculated by a team of statisticians working for Darke, had the mission a failure. If so, that long-term prognosis of mission oblivion could be used to reshape the effort to save the earth. As envisioned, the truth would become a story that colonization of distant planets was not an option; witness the failure of Andromeda; our best effort. The follow-up to that story was that earth was the only option. Earth must be saved and the human species preserved at all costs. Even Jason Darke knew that those costs would be frightening, totally unacceptable from a sociological—and even perhaps a religious—point of view. He had not confided in the uninvited guests in his room that wheels were already turning. Plans were already in progress. Earth would be saved, and it would be at all costs.

Darke returned his thinking to Andromeda. Challenge was central to human progress and built into the voyage by design. There would be challenges aboard the Andromeda vessels, and those who sent them on their way would never know if they succeeded at dealing with them. That was the irony. Whatever story the commission told the people of the earth would become the truth. That truth would be shaped to foster support for a clean earth. He and his colleagues had to make the Andromeda mission plausible. They had to make it a best effort. They did so. Every technological advance in the twenty-third century had been applied to this mission. Some of those technologies were solid. Others were what might be called at a formative stage. Darke closed his eyes, and his last thought before sleep that overtook him was, Let them go…let them try. No matter what, they are free of the bounds of earth and the insidious calumny of this hopelessly corrupted human race. He smiled to himself and thought about another secret he held back from his brain-trust. "There was one other birthing chamber containing a child with special needs. Always have a backup!"

2

The Launch and the Awakening

Numerologists might find something mythical—even mystical—about the year 2222; six years later, Paul, awoke from stasis, and he did not awaken to a mystical experience; just a throbbing headache. He was now aboard the intergalactic one-hundred-year starship Andromeda. The ship was completed in earth orbit in 2215, and its cargo—including Paul—had been uploaded in that same year. He had spent five years assisting in part of the development; first as part of the design team working on vessel controls and then aboard Andromeda supervising uploads of cargo. Before launch, he was placed in a stasis chamber—the only stasis chamber aboard any of the three starships designed for an adult human being. Previous long-term sleep chamber tests demonstrated that there were time limitations on the effectiveness of keeping a human in stasis. Paul’s sleep period would be testing the limits of effective life suspension. He would be awakened out of necessity as Andromeda made its final solar system orbit to ensure his safety and make sure this method of sequestration was workable.

At this moment of awakening, Paul was having a hard time keeping his eyes open, and his vision seemed cluttered with floaters and foggy cellular stick figures. A female organic cyborg, one he had seen brought aboard Andromeda as part of the vessel’s cargo, was assisting in his recovery from stasis. The classification of organic cyborg really does not do this creature justice, he thought. He looked up at her as she leaned over him, carefully placing drops in both his eyes. He could hear the woman telling him softly to relax and hold still. Paul decided—right then—that he would think of the cyborg as a woman, not as an it or some other mechanical designation with letters and numbers. He was able to make out her face, but her features remained misty although lovely. She had opened Paul’s stasis capsule now that the ship accelerated beyond the earth’s solar system, and the voyage to the stars had truly begun. Old Earth would now be history for all aboard the starships, a lesson to be taught in a high-speed classroom streaking through space to an unknown world.

Over a period of six years from that launch date in 2222, the vessels gained speed by using huge solar sails that receive push from the solar pressure of earth’s sun and also would charge enormous batteries. The marvels of twenty-third-century battery development will sustain this ship for the near-century-long journey beyond the visible range of humanity and their technology left behind. The vessels spun their ever-widening elliptical path beyond the arguably dwarf planet Pluto. They entered and then moved outside the Edgeworth-Kuiper Belt with its dangerous unpredictable volatiles and the myriad companion dwarf planets to Pluto, including Haumea, Easterbunny, Makemake, and many others. The speed of the ship reached an astounding three hundred thousand kilometers per second. The flatness of Kuiper allowed the vessels to spin orbits diagonal to the belt and then extend farther out. The Oort Cloud never came into play as the last orbit spun the vessels out far distant from earth’s planetary system altogether at enormous speed. Solar pressure was proving to be the best possible propulsion for space yet conceived.

The engineering team that had designed the system of solar sail propulsion called this speed attained as one kilomeg for every one hundred thousand kilometers per second. Andromeda, Cassiopeia, and Aquarius were traveling at three kilomegs. It had taken six years to reach this velocity using the solar sails deployed from the outer surface of the ships. As fast as that three kilomeg speed seemed on paper, any elementary school child could disparage that speed as only a fraction of the speed of light. The speed of light was three hundred kilomegs, give or take. The journey at three kilomegs to Antares 987, twelve light-years away, would take over one hundred twenty years. Reaching the light-speed velocity of science fiction lore, referred to as warp speed, was—unfortunately—beyond human genius and technical inventiveness. The ship would be traveling the distance of twelve light-years until this voyage reached completion. Right now, in this seventh year of the voyage, from the distance to earth’s sun to where the formation of three vessels are completing their last orbit, there is nothing but blackness and the faint white dots of the planets that have rotated around that sun for almost fifteen billion years.

Paul knows all of this about distances and speeds intuitively because he has had the coursework in high school and college as well as understanding the vastness of the galaxy as a space-trained pilot. As a former space pilot for commercial ventures, the idea of space and the distances existing beyond imagination did not awe him. Paul understands this sense of an unimaginable size of the universe as matter-of-fact. He is not dismissive of the unknown; he respects it and lives with it. Space for him is a companion, nothing to be feared. Paul embraces the unknown, and that is likely why he was selected to be the passenger on this voyage. For Paul, ambiguity, implicit in this venture, is tantamount to opportunity.

Paul has been asleep in stasis without dreams for nearly four of the six years since launch, but he now is awakened knowing where he is and how he feels. Paul has pondered his selection for this voyage ever since his notification. He has invented reasons for his selection but is not clear about why he is aboard Andromeda even though he readily accepted the chance to travel in space once again. In addition, as a commercial spaceplane pilot for AmerX, he knows the feel of spaceflight and the look of those tiny white dots, one of which was called home. He was aware of the mission of this ship—and its sister ships—before he accepted the berth of passenger, not as a pilot. Now, he is waking slowly with the aid of whoever or whatever she is. He looks up at this person and sees a very pretty face, a smiling and friendly face of the companion he will think of as a woman. She has raven-black hair, neatly coiffed, and dark eyes. Her presence seems Mediterranean.

The woman-form organic cyborg standing over Paul putting drops in his eyes and telling him to relax is an example of the highest development of this entire technology racing away from earth. As Paul looked up at her, it was hard to grasp the idea that she was not human. He thought to himself, What wonders the human species have wrought as we attempt to play God! Now we can duplicate ourselves and at least have a simulation of what was once a human being. If we perish, the replicators aboard these ships will be able to repair and duplicate these creatures forever. That thought seemed far too cynical but quite appropriate in his wooziness.

Awakening from stasis, Paul was the only human aboard this vessel called Andromeda. The other two vessels, Cassiopeia and Aquarius, had their own organic cyborgs monitoring the performance of the vessels but no passengers. With their one thousand HSGs in pre-embryonic stasis, the potential was a salting of part of the universe with human beings in hopes that some might survive, develop a civilization, and continue the species. So Paul thought as he awoke, Why am I here?

Paul’s mouth was dry and had the taste of a bicycle inner tube. He rose up on his elbows and tried looking around at his surroundings; he saw nothing by fuzziness and an environment he did not understand. His semiwakeful state had thoughts pressing through his mind in a swirling disconnected soup. The rationality of his thinking was questionable, but that mattered very little right now while he had no tasks before him. He thought, Why am I here…? I said that…no, no, go on…Unfortunately, that is a question I cannot answer, because I do not know the answer. I was a former civilian spaceplane pilot, early retired at age thirty. I had no family, and my retirement seemed to be a blank and far too early. I felt in the first few weeks on that retirement that I was staring at a freshly painted white wall watching it dry.

His thoughts continued as his wakefulness increased. "Without me asking any questions, the interview I took with the program directors lasted twenty minutes. I stated my readiness to go aboard the Andromeda even with the full knowledge that I would never see the end of the journey or be part of any disembarkation to another world. He wondered how many potential candidates turned down the voyage when they realized they would never live to see its completion. He thought about how mindlessly he had accepted this ticket to the stars and recalled returning to his condominium after the interview, the phone had rung, and he was offered the opportunity" to go aboard the Andromeda, and he accepted—just like that! Down deep, Paul could not dismiss the notion that he was saving his life while others would be choking on unbreathable air. Was that all there really was to my decision…self-preservation…cowardice? Here I am…and I still do not know why I am here beyond my own unwillingness to die with the rest of humanity. The obvious direction for determining my purpose is the female android or cyborg. I am not really sure just what she is. I intend to find out.

How are things going? Paul asked.

Everything is going well, but not quite as originally planned, she said.

How so, pray tell?

As the three vessels reached solar system escape velocity, earth control changed the direction of the other two vessels, and they are now on our course headed in the same direction as we are headed to Antares 987.

Why the change of plans so late in the game?

I am informed that this alternative was always a possibility. It seems that the distances multiply the potential for problems the vessels might encounter. Extending the voyage of the other two starships could result in mission failure. Everything and everyone have a better chance for success if the closest habitable planet is chosen for our colony.

I suppose that makes sense. Are there other changes I should know about?

"Yes, the ships will be mated in a stack with Andromeda in the middle. Our elevator shafts will be extended, and since the elevators from each ship are aligned, it will be possible to access any ship from the others. We are actually at the beginning of that maneuver as you and I are speaking."

Is there anything I should be doing?

"No, neither you nor I need be concerned. The ships have been programmed for the maneuver and will accomplish the docking automatically. The self-sealing outer skin will self-weld together, and the three ships will become one—with one name, Andromeda."

I am not up to a lot of questioning right now, but I have a great many questions to ask about this journey and why I am here.

The whatever-she-is actually smiled and said, I am sure you have many questions. I assure you, they will be answered.

Very well, Paul said, tell me, what do I call you…what is your name?

"I am Andromeda. I am the ship." She turned away from Paul with another slight smile and proceeded to leave the stasis deck. Paul could not tell where she was headed or why, but he decided to follow her and pursue other questions in response to her answer.

"Andromeda!" Paul called out to her.

She—and Paul would begin thinking of her-it as a she—turned to face him. She noticed that Paul was hunched slightly, still coming out of the aftereffects of stasis, and she reached out to support him. I am glad to see you making an effort to walk. Let me help you to your quarters.

"Quarters…? Wait a minute. What did you mean by saying that you were the ship?

"I am essentially linked through intelligence to this ship. It is Andromeda, and I am Andromeda."

Okay, I think I get that, you communicate with the ship and sense the ship. I would construe from your answer that you control the ship. Now for the sixty-four-dollar question: why am I here?

That is not a simple answer that I can give you standing here in the passageway. First, let me say that the ship and I are one—in the Zen Buddhist way of being one with nature or your surroundings. As for your purpose, that is a more difficult question that cannot be answered in a few words. It requires explanation that is somewhat lengthy, and you will most certainly have many follow-up questions. Indeed, right now, your pulse rate is over one hundred thirty beats per minute, and your blood pressure is low normal at one hundred five systolic and fifty diastolic. You should go to your quarters.

Wait, you can tell me my blood pressure and pulse from grasping my arm?

Of course, I am fully prepared for your medical care and general well-being. Please, let us go to your quarters. I am sure you will be pleased to see them and use them.

The two now-companions walked the passageway until they approached a large open space with a domed high ceiling that would seem to be forward on the fuselage of Andromeda. The ceiling was acting as a window but was not really glazing of any kind; on the inner skin of the vessel was a thin membrane containing photoelectric molecules that presented a clear image of the course through space in front. As Paul was to learn later, the imaging could be shifted to any position on the outer surface to view space. At this moment, nothing seemed to be moving. Out ahead were stars and possibly other galaxies. They stopped to view this array for a moment and then proceeded off to their left toward what Andromeda had referred to as Paul’s quarters. She opened a traditional home-style double door with two lever handles and revealed an entryway, a vestibule, and, beyond, a living space with what looked like comfortable living room furnishings. The walls had framed pictures of mountains with streams or night-lit cityscapes. Andromeda gave a simple voice command, Change, and the pictures transformed into other scenic earth wonders such as seascapes and horses running through a meadow. I will tell you more about the electronic viewers later, she said. Would you prefer images that are more artistic? Would you like Renaissance or Cubist paintings?

Right now, I really don’t care what kind of pictures are on the walls, Andromeda.

I understand other thoughts fill your mind. Perhaps we can identify more suitable decorative arts later.

The quarters seemed to be furnished as if Paul was a homebuyer. The surroundings were just that—decorated, carefully, but comfortably. There was a kitchen—of sorts—with fixtures and controls he did not immediately understand. There was a dining area and, beyond that space, a bedroom with a traditional king-sized bed. The bed was turned down with a comforter, silklike sheets, and large silk-covered pillows. Off the bedroom was a very well-appointed bathroom with—of all things—a Jacuzzi tub. What Paul saw, or more properly was confronted with, was an effort to present him with a homelike environment that simulated someone’s idea of a place to live. He could not object but wondered why it was not appointed in a similar fashion to the quarters on a space station. His tiredness, more weariness and result of the stasis-lag, got the better of him, and he sat down hard in a reclining lounge chair in the bedroom.

Andromeda asked, Are you pleased with your quarters?

I guess that I am…I am surprised at what I see. It seems out of place on a vessel heading to other worlds.

The surroundings were made to allow for your comfort over time. They can be changed to suit your needs. The replicators are able to produce anything of this nature you may want. You are, right now, the only human passenger.

This will do!

I suggest that you do not eat anything solid for the next twenty-four hours. I can get you what is called a smoothie, according to our inventory of foods. Something of this fluidic consistency would be suitable in whatever flavor you may wish.

Okay, how about a strawberry daiquiri, heavy on the daiquiri?

Andromeda seemed to go blank for a moment. Her eye contact with Paul adjusted slightly as her face went ashen and then returned to color with a resumption of her gaze. You are making a joke, are you not? A daiquiri is an alcoholic drink, made with rum, triple sec, lime juice, ice, and strawberries. It sounds delicious…and that would not be appropriate for you at this time.

Are you saying there is a time when alcohol will be appropriate?

Again, her face went ashen, and her cast of gaze looked away briefly. She returned with a retort that she meant to be clever. It can be said that alcohol is only appropriate for cleaning medical instruments when an autoclave is unavailable. However, when drinking alcohol in the form of libations, it is appropriate to monitor intake carefully so as to avoid inebriation. Are you suggesting that you would like to enter a state of…drunkenness?

Not really, I was trying to be witty, but I am too tired for cleverness. Paul was interested in this facial pause he was witnessing as Andromeda responded to double- and triple-loaded questions, so he pushed it to further explore her reactions. Suppose inebriation is the purpose of drinking those libations. Will you be monitoring my intake of alcohol?

This time, Andromeda was ready for him; there was no pause and no look-away in her cast of gaze. "If you persist in drinking, the alcoholic beverages you imbibe will be reduced in alcoholic content with each drink in accordance with your body weight and known physiological limits and constraints. I need not be present to monitor this intake. Andromeda will monitor you then and is monitoring you now in every moment in time."

That tells me something…I am a dog on a leash!

This time, Andromeda—the representation of the intelligence that is Andromeda—went ashen, looked away, and visibly slumped until the intelligence came back with a response. Ah, you are speaking metaphorically, are you not? The response is no, you are not a dog on a leash. You are not a prisoner. You have free will. However, you have purpose, and that purpose you are meant to serve cannot be thwarted, at least intentionally by irrational or overly emotional behavior.

Well, Andromeda, that brings us to the major question. I am sitting down now. I am quite comfortable. I do believe my pulse rate is descending and my blood pressure is returning to a normal level. Tell me, why am I here…am I the captain of this vessel?

"No, you are not the captain. The ship has no need of a captain at this time. You are here to teach and demonstrate empathy, compassion, and sacrifice."

That response floored Paul. Now it was his turn to look away and go ashen. When he responded, he did so with hesitation and a sense of bewilderment. Teach and demonstrate empathy, compassion, and sacrifice…to whom am I giving this demonstration and why?

Andromeda sat on the arm of his recliner, leaned forward, and took his hand in a most familiar way. You and I have one thousand children on this vessel. Now, with the joining of the ships, you have another two thousand. You can teach machines and artificial intelligence almost anything, but it is not possible for the emotional responses—the healthy emotional responses—to the care and understanding of others to be taught by machine. You will be passing on these learned behaviors to a generation of children aboard this ship. They will learn them, become invested in them, and pass them on to their brothers and sisters—and eventually their husbands and wives. Of course, I use the terms ‘brothers and sisters’ metaphorically since none of the stasis HSGs are related any closer than fifteen generations removed.

Now I do need that daiquiri!

I will get you one…but only one! Andromeda left with a smile and went to the kitchen. She gave the command to the kitchen replicator for a strawberry daiquiri. There was the sound of a blender somewhere and gurgling noises. Andromeda gave another command, and the drink was poured into an appropriate cocktail glass. Andromeda brought the drink to Paul and handed it to him with a broad smile.

He took a cautious sip of the drink and said, This is good…how much alcohol does it have?

None, she said. The drink also contains the nutrients you require after that long time is stasis .

Well, if this is how a drink is made aboard ship, I won’t care about the alcoholic content, and we can dispense with the concern about inebriation.

Wonderful. Now, do you smoke? Oh, forgive me, I know that answer from your digital dossier, you don’t smoke.

Quite right, Andromeda, that’s a filthy habit I never acquired and almost disappeared on earth in the twenty-first century.

She sat on the arm of his recliner again and looked at him. What shall I call you?

You must know my name from that digital dossier.

Yes, however, most human beings have a name of familiarity. What is yours?

My name is too short to be contracted into a so-called nickname. You may call me by my given name—Paul.

Very well, I shall call you Paul. Andromeda thought for a moment, as now he was familiar with her thinking linked to the massive intelligence of the vessel. She returned her look into his eyes and asked, Are you named for the evangelist, Paul, the apostle who became a Christian after a vision of his savior, Jesus?

No, I am named after my father, Paul, a vice president in a small-town bank.

Andromeda flashed away and returned with, Ah, yes, your father was Paul, and so was his father. Your family followed the practice of honoring the father with naming of the son.

Yes, but somewhere in the past, one Paul was likely named for the evangelist.

This rather simple response nearly caused a shutdown in Andromeda. She slumped away, and her head bowed. Paul could see the pupils of her eyes shifting back and forth rapidly. His offhand remark had caused a search of the digital information that led nowhere in the attempt to find the connection to Saint Paul. I am sorry. I did not mean to cause you undue stress. Please discontinue your browsing and resume our conversation.

"Thank you…that almost caused a Mobius loop in the search. However, do not refrain from using metaphorical or whimsical references because it helps Andromeda learn. That will be a component of teaching and learning the three important sensate responses we hope to pass on to our children, Paul."

"You keep referring to these test-tube infants as our children…they are technically not yours and mine."

True, I am speaking metaphorically. This time, Andromeda smiled broadly as if she had put one past him.

Very good, Dharma…may I give you a nickname?

Dharma, she repeated, I like it.

I want to distinguish you as a person, separating you from the identity of the vessel.

That may prove useful down the road. Dharma smiled and opened her eyes wide. Oh, I used a metaphorical expression. Oh, I am enjoying this!

They both actually laughed. Andromeda—Dharma had an emotional response. It was an appropriate emotional response. However, Paul felt uncomfortable as he thought about it. In time, he might not be able to distinguish between her as an artificial intelligence and a real person. Then again, would it matter? They were traveling at tremendous speed toward an unknown planet that just might support life with no other flesh-and-blood person aboard—even that distinction was in doubt.

Paul thought, Why not become familiar? Why not develop a relationship? That thought truly gave him pause. How far would any relationship go between them? Was this appropriate, or was he being terribly provincial about a morality that was now a figment of human relationships millions of miles behind them and increasing with every breath he was taking? Paul decided to put this thinking aside for the time being as he needed to explore other major questions with Andromeda. Suddenly he felt skanky. He felt the years of stasis resulted in a trapped body odor beneath the jumpsuit he was wearing. He called out to Dharma and asked, I really need to clean up. I need a shower and a shave. Do we have all of the amenities aboard?

Water conservation is of the utmost importance, as you might surmise. You might want to try the helm-groomer for your beard, hair, eyelash cleansing, and eyebrow trimming.

Helm-groomer, what the heck is that?

Come into the bathroom, and I will show you the unit.

Andromeda—Dharma picked up a full helm similar to the protective headgear worn by motorcycle riders on earth. However, this unit hinged at the front, and the faceplate allowed the unit to be slipped over a head, and then it automatically groomed the hair, beard, eyebrows, ear-hair, and nose-hair of the user. In addition, it cleansed the face and scalp, wiped the eyelids, cleaned earwax, and used emollients and lubricants to soothe the skin. Paul was very reluctant to use the unit and asked for a battery-powered razor.

Andromeda shook her head and gestured with the helm to have him try it. Your body has been fully scanned, and all three-dimensional data on every aspect of your physiology has been recorded. This helm has been custom fabricated to your dimensions and conformation of your head shape. You will get used to it!

Paul slipped the helm over his head and waited. Nothing happened.

It works on voice commands, said Dharma. How do you want your hair cut?

A close trim.

His voice actuated the helm, and a warm massaging of Paul’s scalp and an almost undetectable trimming of his hair took place in seconds. He then said, Close shave. The unit lathered his face, and again, a massaging action was all the feeling that could be detected. Paul closed his eyes in anticipation of the next function, cleansing of his face. He said, Clean my face. The helm clipped nose and ear hair, wiped his eyelids, placed eye drops perfectly in the corners of his eyes. Another massaging action removed excess moisture, and a low beeping tone signaled that the procedure was finished. The front fascia panel popped open slightly, and Paul removed the helm-groomer. Paul looked into the mirror and acknowledged that the grooming procedure seemed acceptable. He placed the helm-groomer back on a blank mannequin head form on the bathroom counter that looked suspiciously like himself.

I suppose there is something similar for a full body wash, is there not?

Dharma replied, Yes, indeed, it is to your right.

It looks something like a tanning bed.

Open it up, Paul, she said. You will see that your body form is the negative space in the unit. Full-body scanning has allowed over five million points on your body to be calculated, including your finger and toenails to allow efficient cleansing—including manicures and pedicures. I am sure that you understand that bathing using water is inefficient and wasteful. All water use must be recycled and processed—requiring energy. These units have been carefully designed to clean properly and thoroughly without waste of precious supplies. Additionally, when you use the unit, the ship will take your blood pressure, pulse rate, and analyze your body fat conformation. There is some adjustment in the unit, but we would not like to see you gain ten pounds and give the machine difficulty in managing your care and cleanliness.

"When you say we, just who are you talking about?" Paul came at Dharma very pointedly with this question.

We…the ship…and me.

I thought you were the ship.

"I thought you wanted to separate me from the ship by giving me that nickname of Dharma. I deduce from that action that you want to think of me as a person."

I do want to think of you as a person…I am already thinking of you as a person, but there may be others to consider.

What others?

Forgive me, I still feel that connection to earth and the people who sent us out here. I keep thinking that they are looking over our shoulder.

Dharma nodded away for a second, the way Paul had noticed before when she had to think about an answer to one of his questions—or one of his expressions. "Oh, I see, another metaphor. Looking over our shoulder is a reference to earth monitoring our mission. No, mission control has no capacity to monitor our mission at this point. We can send out data, but it takes a month at this juncture to reach earth. Soon, it will take years for communication to reach earth,