Novels2Search

7 - Computers

I stood in the middle of an empty room, holding my hands straight to the side.

“Up.” A monotone voice commanded, and I did as instructed. “Down.”

My arms fell to my sides. This exercise seemed remarkably similar to jumping jacks but without the jumping.

“Up… Down… Up… Arms in front of chest. Straight… Down. Up. Down.”

I pushed my hands out in front of me before lowering them to my waist and felt my chest burning where the demon’s claws had dug into me. It was still healing and the movements were causing the injury to flair. For a moment I paused the exercise and clutched at my heart.

“You pause. Exercise is suboptimal?” The translator asked.

“Exercise is optimal. A previous injury is suboptimal.” I responded mimicking their dialect. “Normally I would have no problem.”

The person checking for my movement capabilities was currently outside of this small room. The shelves had been bare and moved outside so that I could perform the given exercises while they collected data on my body.

The gray metallic walls stood out against the paler tripod holding some form of chrome sphere. That device that must have been a camera, and the small box beneath the tripod was the translator I had seen before.

“Jump.” It commanded, and I jumped.

“Jump forwards.” It corrected and I did as told.

“Continue Jumping.”

In response I leapt towards the wall, then turned around and leapt towards the opposite wall. The room was small enough that I could reach one end from the other with a single jump and I repeated the exercise a few times.

“Cease action and approach the crate.”

I turned towards a moderately sized metallic box in the corner beside the other equipment. I wondered if I would be trying to leap onto the crate next. This was clearly a number of physical tests to check for how well I could perform physical labor. Though given that every so often the octopus would stop and measure a limb I could also assume they were taking measurements for some sort of protective equipment.

“Lift the crate. Leave the room. Place onto shelf.”

I sighed, this was definitely for some kind of work uniform.

The metallic crate was oddly lightweight, though still large enough to be uncomfortable while holding it. I assumed it must have been empty. When I went towards the door it opened itself without having to use the button. Walking through the doorway I located the nearest shelf and placed down my cargo.

“Place crate on highest shelf you reach.”

I paused for a moment, realizing that this was clearly a test to see how I would do at stacking boxes. Should I place the box as high as I possibly could? Or should I place it as high as I could comfortably?

I could easily toss the box up onto the highest shelf, but what if I missed and it fell back down onto me? What if they assumed there was no risk of failure because I easily tossed the box the last few inches and I was given a job without them knowing heavier packages could fall directly onto my face?

Instead I grabbed the box, stretched upwards and slotted it into the first shelf I could reach without having to pull my heels off of the ground.

“Optimal. Retrieve the crate.”

I was suddenly glad I hadn’t pushed it onto the top shelf. I reached up to lock my fingers onto the corners of the crate and began sliding it towards me. When it fell I easily caught the empty box and set it down at my feet.

“Optimal. Now. Place on shelf.”

I found myself placing it onto that shelf and taking it down repeatedly, after about a dozen sessions the translator finally spoke up.

“Task complete. Wait in place for retrieval.”

Another sigh escaped my lips as I found myself leaning against the wall. I had been told that this was part of a physical exam to check my well being. I was now realizing that their definition of ‘completely healthy’ meant ‘capable of doing work’. If my examination ended here then it was likely the only thing I would see in my near future would be crates that needed to find their shelves.

Eventually my octopus caretaker wiggled back into the hallway, a door automatically closing behind them.

“Assist me.” They stated plainly before they began to shift the shelves back into the storage room I came out of.

I rose to my feet and lifted half of an empty shelf, it screamed in protest as I dragged it towards its destination.

“Stack shelves against back wall.”

“Understood.” I answered, it appeared that we would not be using time to properly space these shelves. I wondered whether we might need this room for testing again, or if the octopus was just lazy and leaving this problem for someone else.

“Now follow.” they instructed as the last shelf cleared the doorway.

We walked down the same gray hall, passing by rows and rows of doors. Their color was ever so slightly different from the walls surrounding them. A slightly lighter metal? Or perhaps painted with a different brand of paint. I began to eye the doors, checking for possible cracks or chips that may reveal the answer.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Then I began to wonder if I was so bored that I was literally searching for signs of paint to pass the time. It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing I’d done, the weeks of nothingness that I had been subject to in my cell had led to a number of weird pointless games among me and the other captives. At one point we had ended up trying to count all of the screws in our rooms.

My musing was interrupted by the only break in my monotonous surroundings I had found thus far. An open door. As we passed it I could see into the room, eyeing the small work station with tools I did not recognize. But among those tools was something I quickly understood.

A computer, its dark background still provided enough light to catch my attention in the unlit room. The green text on the screen was too far away to disconcert, even if I could somehow make out the language.

We moved on, continuing down the hall passing door after door until the octopus found the correct door. They then turned to me.

“This may take long time. Do not move. Understood?”

“I understand.” I answered as they turned away. I leaned against a nearby wall to sit. My limbs were still thin and I found myself exhausted from things I could do effortlessly before the abduction. Malnutrition and injury had robbed me of my strength. Even now I made an effort to not touch my chest where that demon had once cut into me.

“Brandon, Chell Armette. Diane Tykia. Lucas Bretton-” I went over the names again, Lucas had exercised regularly and would probably know more about physical recovery than I did. Would he recommend bedrest or exercise? I could easily perform squats or run, would that help me recover faster?

My body ached regardless of how much I did physically. I felt bruises and scrapes along my limbs even beside the burning pain I felt in my chest every time I stretched my arms to the side. It was difficult for me to feel comfortable no matter how I sat down.

I massaged the small of my back and stood for a moment before pushing a leg out and stretching forwards. This is probably what a health expert would tell me to do. As I rose I raised my arms upwards towards the ceiling. I then pulled my leg to my chest before kicking it straight out. Stepping forward I did the same thing on the opposite side.

“Why walk is incorrect? Injury?”

I turned to the door, seeing a familiar octopus staring at me.

“No, I am stretching.” I corrected.

“Why?”

“My muscles are tight and they need to be stretched.”

“Why?” It began staring at me and I managed to recognize curiosity.

The truth was I didn’t know why humans needed to stretch, I knew I had been told to but not why humans physically needed it.

“If I don’t then I may injure myself while doing physical labor.”

“Optimal // research.” It answered in the same translated monotone, I wondered if it had used a word with a double meaning? Possibly something the alien found both interesting and wanted to investigate? It slowly backed away from the door, receding into the room. “Continue, research later.”

I nodded subconsciously before responding, “Understood.”

The door shut and I continued, first pulling my knee up and outward, then stepping forward into a lunge. I slowly made my way down the hall, twisting and leaning as necessary. Trying to copy what I remembered from highschool gym class.

I lunged forwards and then twisted to the left, catching a view of the computer. I caught my breath and my chest began to flare up.

I stood, clutching at myself and trying to suck in air. I leaned against the doorway and sank to my knees. Pain flooded my mind as I seized onto the ground and pushed my head onto the cold floor. I forced myself to breathe through the feeling of burning flesh and tearing muscles. Had I cramped? Pulled a muscle? Or maybe I had stretched the freshly closed wounds back open.

As the pain receded I began gingerly dabbing at my breast and wincing as my hand came back bloodied. Red streaks stained my shirt and I wobbled as I rose to my feet, gasping for air like a fish out of water.

I stood, free from the pain and stared forwards at the glowing computer monitor across from me. The room was not large, I could end up in front of that machine in two steps. I saw what passed for a keyboard. It had been built into the desk so as to not go flying across the room if the ship suddenly lost gravity. On the left side of the board were a series of arrows, and many of the keys resembled human letters or symbols. A modified ‘Q’ appeared four times with various slight changes.

My wounds twinged and I looked down at the bloody stains on my chest. The pattern of symbols that had been carved into my flesh, an arrow, a backwards three, a-

My eyes began searching the console, desperate to match a pattern I found.

~

I felt myself turning slightly gray, the amount of tedious work I was expected to perform for a random unclassified alien was a boring irritation.

My species was expected to perform management work, learned work. We were not the types to go scouring through data sheets and engineering books to design a hazard suit for some primitive that had barely escaped vivisection. I flared red for a moment. I had to do this work on paper! Paper, as in the stuff you made from plants. The primitive could recognize that and it likely hadn’t even reached space travel.

I would have to draft a suit for the human manually onto this paper, then manufacture it to specifications. It would likely take half a dozen prototypes to match its joints correctly and-

I felt myself turning gray again. Paper-models were time consuming, if I had access to a computer I could upload the data I took onto a modeling-program then auto-update a suit that would match his physique before correcting the finished product. It would be finished in a few hours, maybe half a day at most.

Instead I would be designing a suit, writing down the exact measurements to everything myself, then grinding the materials by hand until it fits. This was most definitely lower-rank work. I should be commanding a team on this.

But orders were clear. Most of the systems were shut down, or to be more accurate inaccessible. Our makeshift slave rebellion had been countered in the simplest possible method. We did not know the password to get onto the ship’s computer systems, nothing other than the most bare essential systems were online.

Thus there was not enough high-work to perform. Without most of our computer systems no one could perform simple tasks and even something as mundane as a hazard-suit would need to be drafted without a computer’s automated correction algorithm. Only using pure mathematics and skill.

If I could somehow guess the password to a single computer we could not only use a password reset function to access the entire ship and cease spinning in the middle of the void, but I could complete days worth of work and prototyping in a few hours of simulations.

I turned towards a tablet displaying some of the video I had taken, the cameras were not considered dangerous in the wrong hands so I could record the way his ligaments moved. I supposed I should start with his head, as that seemed the least mobile and jointed part of his body.

A simple helmet could protect against accidental blunt force trauma, his eyes were firmly anchored onto the front of his face, he breathed through the small tube-thing directly under his eyes. The sound came from a detachable, bone-opening directly under the breathing-tube that was also used for ingestion.

One tube ingested air, food, water and exhaled his sound-speak. I shuttered.

Then I paused my draft for a moment, had I actually measured how far the bone opening could go? When he spoke, how much room did he need in his helmet to properly form words or eat?

I flushed red in irritation, if this was a real time computer modeling program I could just point a camera on him and have him mimic movements as I designed a rigid helmet to protect from toxic inhalants and blunt force trauma. Instead I would need to remeasure every time I realized I lacked data on a body part.

What data had I missed? I got important joint movements in the limbs but did I know what the feet looked like? He wore shoes during the exercises didn’t he? Would I need to strip him naked and prance him around in circles so that I could get the interiors of this suit correct?

His body was alien and unfamiliar, how many times would I design something only to realize that his arm shrank in diameter at various points? For all I knew I could design a suit and watch him molt in three weeks rendering everything I have done incorrect.

Inefficient.

I resented being given busywork just because there wasn’t anything else to do. Even if there were no designated tasks for me I shouldn’t be given such a low value and endless objective, what use could one biped be in a ship of this size? He would need to be micromanaged because he was a primitive who couldn’t tell an airlock from a food dispenser but that didn’t mean they needed me to do it. Anyone could follow him around and swat his hand when he tried to press buttons.

As I crawled out of the door I turned through the hallway, I went from a red of frustration and indignation to a dark crimson of fury.

The human had wandered off.

That primate was now loose on the ship, running around and touching who knows what.

“Human, approach now.” The machine’s monotone was no louder or more urgent than any other speech it emulated. I set the device to repeat. “Human, approach now. Human, approach now. Hu-”

I dragged myself down the hall, first in one direction then the other. Eyeing the sides of the walkway for some sort of sleeping form. Surely the human was intelligent enough to not run about and get himself lost? He must be napping somewhere, that was an optimal course of action.

I tried to explain the rage. Enough intelligence to not get lost on an alien ship? Intelligent enough to not run from its one sole caretaker? Intelligent enough to understand the innate risks of space travel?

No. Those were all excuses, the truth was that he should know better than to drive his sole caretaker into an all consuming rage.

I saw a flash of light, a teal coloration leaking from a doorway and wrapped myself around the wall before tearing into an officer rank personal chamber. My longest limb wrapped around the human’s waist before he even detected my presence and lifted him into the air.

He had run off when I told him not to! He was touching ship equipment, an action which I had explicitly forbidden! He had-

I glanced at the screen to assess the damage he had done and what I saw destroyed my line of thought. I subconsciously released the human who fell onto the ground with more force than I would have preferred.

This computer had been unlocked.