The world of Libertas appears around me, and by the looks of everything, it seems that everything is back to normal. Chunks of distant landscape that were once disappearing into non-existence are now perfectly visible. The wind computations are functioning normally, blowing waves across the grass and displacing a strand of my hair. But one thing does seem strange to me: it’s daylight now. Last I remembered, it was just hitting dusk.
I check the in-game clock and the real-time clock. At first, I think eight hours have passed, then realize that the date has changed. It’s been four whole days. My mind is spinning over all the lost time. In fact, I can’t seem to remember anything after I initiated the log out procedure. April had said that logging out too soon could have effects on my mind, but I didn’t think I’d forget what I was doing. The more I think and try to remember, the more my head seems to throb with a minor headache.
Shrugging, I tap through my HUD until I reach the messages screen.
Aiden Rockwell: Hey, is memory loss to be expected? I mean, I suspect that the Shield is safe and things are back to normal, considering how Libertas is running, but I don’t remember anything.
April Conway: Aiden! Glad to see you’ve returned to us. Yes, everything is fine. Your consciousness took a beating, but not in the way you might think. While you were sleeping, we made a short wake-up video for you that will break the news to you in order. Watch it. You’re a hero!
I gulp, uncertainty gripping me as April’s link appears in her next message. I don’t know what happened, but I wouldn’t consider myself a hero. I tap the link with my finger and a small video screen appears to hover before me. Pressing play, the video reveals the inside of a small, dark room with metal walls. Captain Royal is staring right at me, his bottom lip busted up and an eye swollen shut. Behind him is a doorway surrounded by blinking lights, switches, and knobs. I must be looking at the inside of the Shield’s cockpit. A wave of disconcertment washes over me when I notice a giant metal man with black lenses for eyes is standing just off to the side of Royal. The looks of the robot is menacing, giving me the creeps. It’s like I’m looking at a tissue-removed T-800 cybernetic living organism. Just then, Royal smiles and begins to talk, pulling my attention to him.
“Aiden Rockwell, I’m glad you’re alive to watch this and hope that I may somehow show you my thanks. This is a pre-recorded video, edited with a clip from another ship in the refugee fleet who also want to give you thanks. If you hadn’t guessed already, things are back to normal. Mostly, that is. The mutineers have been placed in solitary isolation in their stasis habitats with all of their options and features removed until we decide what needs to be done with them. But that’s not what this message is about.
“You know, it was a great misfortune that I didn’t believe you when you said that there was a mutiny stirring aboard. But, it is with the utmost certainty that I now proclaim that it is through your bravery and determination alone that the Shield, the Dream, and quite possibly the last remnants of humanity, still stand strong. This ship will always be in your debt, Aiden. Thank you. And about that voting thing you suggested… Maybe we gave up on Earth too soon. Myself and the other captains are going to talk about letting the people have a voice in the matter, even if it’s just to begin hypothesizing a plan. We’ll see what happens. Talk to you soon, Aiden, and thanks again. ”
The Captain nods, and the video cuts to an Asian woman with high cheekbones and a regal look about her. A moment passes and I recognize her as the captain of the Dream, Mizuki Yuni. She bows respectfully and says, “Aiden, it is my understanding that the mutineers you stopped were attempting to reach the Dream, that a member of our ship was involved with one of them. If they were to attain their goal and reach us, your ship would have passed Earth dangerously close. If the Culicidae spotted the Shield, it’s highly possible that would have spelled the end for all of us. So, it appears to me that the Dream owes you a great deal.
Mizuki’s thin fingers raise into view, cupping a small black box with a hinged lid and a cream-colored silken interior. She’s not proposing to me, because it’s not a ring, it’s a golden medal that gleams brightly in the light. With a smile, she says, “In China, before our present circumstances, the Friendship Medal was given to foreign dignitaries who contribute to peace and cooperation between our countries. It is an honor of the highest kind. While I cannot give it to you in person, know that this medal is yours, should we ever meet, and the honor is yours no matter how far away we are. Thank you for staying vigilant when no one else did. The Dream recognizes what you’ve done, and we are in your debt.”
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Wow. I never thought I’d receive an official honor like this. The notion makes me proud of what I’ve done, but I admit that I wish I could hold that shiny piece of gold in my hands. Before I get to stew on it too long, the video changes again. Now I’m looking at a video feed from inside the Shield’s pod chamber. I recognize the desk, the chair, with April sitting one leg crossed over the other, and even the menacing robot standing next to her.
The pod operator smiles. “Aiden, there’s a few things you need to know and I thought it would be a good idea to record this short video and tack it onto the others so you could see this and what’s to follow for yourself.” April motions to the metal man standing next to her and says, “Aiden, meet Aiden.”
What?
The robot waves, almost nervously, then says in a tinny voice, “Hey… Me. Well, I guess ‘hey, you’ is more accurate since from this point on we aren’t the same person, having lived different experiences.” The robot reaches a hand up behind his head, scratches, then realizes the folly of his human behavior with its hairless head.
This can’t be real.
“I suppose you’re confused right now, but it’s true. You and me are, or were, the same person. The computer that was transferring your consciousness into this body wasn’t able to finalize all the data before you interrupted the process. All of your memories were copied over, but not your consciousness, so when you tried to log out you sent an activating signal to this body and it had to create it’s own consciousness based on your memories. The result is me, essentially a copy of you in most ways. If you’ve been wondering what happened on the Shield, that’s why you can’t remember. You never left your pod, in mind or body. You didn’t log back into stasis, to get you to where you are now, and I took care of the mutiny problem. You just had a nice mind-split induced nap.” The robot half-laughs. “It’s kinda weird thinking there’s two of me now.”
You’re telling me…
“Which makes me wonder who the original is, hah. Anyways, that doesn’t matter as much as you might think it does. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be here and the Shield would be headed for certain death. So, thanks for a life, I guess. We will have to chat soon. Take it easy.”
April turns her head back to face me. “Well, that pretty much covers that. Let me know if you have any questions about this and myself and the team will address them. Like I said before, this procedure was incredibly experimental. You lucked out, and we still have a lot to learn.” She holds up a finger. “But don’t be thinking that’s where this video ends. There’s still one more thing you need to see. Something that I think will thrill you. Hope you’ve enjoyed this nice ‘wake up’ video so far.” She smiles and waves a dainty hand. “Talk to you soon, Aiden.”
The video flickers to a black screen for just a second, then shows me an image of a girl a little younger than me sitting in a strange looking cockpit. She has long curly hair and a small, pointed nose. Another metal man is standing nearby her, but it’s not the same kind as the other me. I’ve had so much information tossed at me in such a small amount of time I’m not sure what to expect now. My head is like a drunk and half-naked orc mud-wrestling a bugbear—pure chaos—and all I can do is go along with the madness.
“Hi,” the girl says. Her cheeks are red and I can tell she’s nervous. “This is a message from Earth. Specifically, an orchard in Georgia called Grier. Bean, I don’t know what to say…” She plants her face in her hands and groans in exasperation, but quickly regains her composure and continues. “I guess I’ll just say it how it is. Myself and others in my settlement need your help. With the help of a rogue Culicidae, we’ve come to realize that the invasion was never about taking humanity out of the picture entirely. It’s about colonization. Enslaving the survivors of the human race to an existence that is essentially just a food source and a means of basic labor.
“All across the globe, they’ve been constructing these special stations that serve as prisons, hangars, but also as terra-forming hubs. They mean to change the very surface of the Earth and make the air more habitable to their species. The last of us free humans who are hiding from the Culicidae in shelters and fear will die from these changes to the planet. We don’t have nearly the numbers we used to, but just in this little settlement alone there are nearly five hundred people. And there are others out there that we trade with. Hundreds of thousands, maybe even a million people, still live on Earth and we’re in danger.
“Now, this isn’t just a call begging for help. I want you to see where I’m sitting. This is a Culicidae ship. We have two of them—well, one ship isn’t ours to keep—but it is complete with all their weaponry and communications systems. We took the fight to them. Freed nearly three hundred people and blasted the station into a pile of molten metal. This is a revolution. We’re working tirelessly to weasel our way into their systems and cherry pick more targets, but we can’t do this alone. Please. If any of you ships out there get this, come home. The Earth is not lost unless you leave it behind.”
The girl sighs. “This is Cassandra Rockwell, signing off. Hah, always wanted to say that.”
The screen cuts to black. That was it. The end of the video. And here I am with my jaw literally hanging. I just can’t believe it. My sister is alive.