"Here is another one," Alan announced to the hovering drone following him. He then crouched before an automaton sprawled on the floor, initiating a diagnostic check. "Looks like it'll need a new left arm. The battery is completely toasted, and the breastplate, despite some burn marks, is still functional."

And why the hell does it have burn marks?

A self-driven cart approached, producing a clinking noise before opening a small drawer containing the requested battery.

"Thank you," Alan said, retrieving it. Moments later, a larger drawer presented a robotic arm.

Upon receiving the new battery, the automaton powered on, sat up, and turned its head towards Alan, its digital eyes unblinkingly lit. It emitted a short melody, signaling a reboot.

It's taking an unusually long time.

"Greetings, Technician Alan Warden," the automaton intoned after scanning Alan's badge. "Thank you for your assistance today."

"You're welcome. Here, I've got another part for you; it's from an older model but should be compatible."

Alan fitted the left arm; a click confirmed its magnetic attachment.

"Compatibility confirmed. Thank you."

"Hey, can you tell me how you ended up like this?"

"Broken?" the automaton queried before standing. "I'm sorry, but I have lost my recent memory after the battery depleted. I am currently operating on backup data from... March 19th. Anything else I can assist with, Alan, before I resume my duties?"

"No," Alan smiled at it. "Thanks, get back to work."

"Have a nice day." The automaton saluted and departed.

"Isabella?"

"Yes, Alan?" The AI's voice came through the nearby drone.

"Did you just wipe his memory?"

"Yes. The automaton could have leaked sensitive data to you."

"I need to learn what happened here, Captain. Sooner or later."

"I agree. You can access all the classified information once your work here is done."

So I have to keep working, oblivious to everything? You're asking too much of me.

He glanced at the once white walls, now marred with plasma burns.

The floors look weird too, as if cleaned hurriedly and carelessly.

"Fine. Where's the next automaton?"

***

**

*

*

**

***

While working here, I've realized how easily a human life could end due to a simple malfunction.

Alan examined a passenger capsule, identical to the one he had left months ago to aid Isabella.

"How many capsules have had issues, Isabella?" He asked, spotting an oxygen leak in the glass.

"Only this one. Once The Santa María is fully autonomous—"

"You won't need me anymore; you've mentioned it already."

I just hope I don't end up forgotten like the other staff members. Wherever they might be.

He used a small glue gun from his belt to seal the visible crack, and the chemical reaction solidified it instantly.

Before departing, Alan looked at the sleeping passenger, a brunette girl about his age, blissfully unaware of the near disaster.

*****

****

***

**

*

Fixing panels, unjamming doors, consuming paste, and drinking something akin to apple juice—this had been my routine for the last 186 days.

Assistance from other automatons has boosted daily productivity by 300%... or so claims Isabella.

186 damn days without human contact. Isabella's digital voice is the only thing keeping me sane.

She promised entertainment, but everything was filtered by the Vice-Captain, Kasuo 'Delete this indecent, immoral garbage' Yoshida. Just classical music and fake, digital landscapes.

Sitting on the toilet, he held up a screw, studying it as if it held the secrets of the ship.

Years ago, I watched a show about humans developing psychic powers from space travel. Maybe that could happen to me… Though, it would likely just be insanity from this freaking isolation.

After using the bathroom, he faced his reflection, a weary eighteen-year-old with dark circles under his eyes and overgrown auburn-brown hair stared back at him.

I can keep going, if that’s what you're asking, he assured his reflection before returning to bed, tossing the screw into the air and catching it.

"Sorry for the break, Isa. Where was I? Ah, yes! 'New London's bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down.' Your turn."

"Alan, would adjusting my voice help with this task?"

"Could you? Yes, please!"

"How about this tone?"

"Too high-pitched."

"And this?"

"Less deep."

"Like this?"

"Whoa! Now try singing."

"New London's bridge is falling down..."

"Speak 20% slower."

"...is falling down, falling down..."

"Perfect! Your new voice melts my ears! Expect my productivity to skyrocket now!"

"Glad to assist."

"Hey, Isa?"

"Yes? How may I assist, Alan?"

"Can you tell me which capsule Astrid Bradford is in?"

"I'm sorry, but that information is classified, for her privacy protection. Here at Alvearium Enterprise—"

"Skip ad."

"Understood."

It’s not like I wanted to spy on her or anything!

"However, as a Maintenance Engineer, you may access some of her records from my database, if it pertains to your duties."

"Am I an engineer now?" Alan sat up. "Yes, please, it's important!"

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Understood. Request by Maintenance Engineer Alan Warden to consult Level Blue information... Access granted... Results for Passenger #29316, Astrid Bradford... 5 entries found."

Alan leapt from the bed to the screen. "Why does that number seem familiar?" he mused, reviewing the displayed files.

"Astrid Bradford registered just seconds before you, Alan. Would you like to see her registration interview?"

"Yes," he breathed, captivated by the image of the blonde appearing on the monitor. The video dated four months prior showed her entering a transparent booth.

Inside and outside the Novus, she looks like an angel lost from heaven.

[Name, please.]

An electronic voice queried in the video.

[Astrid Bradford,] she responded, tucking a golden strand of hair behind her ear without glancing at the camera.

[Registration confirmed. Age seventeen. Height 5 feet, 3 inches. Weight 112 pounds...]

[Hey, could you lower your voice, please?]

[Please tell us why you want to board The Santa María?]

[Why? Well... it's this or a slow death on Earth, right?] Her innocent smirk made Alan chuckle. [Wait, this isn't being recorded, is it? Whatever. Aston Bradford wouldn't have it any other way. Happy now?]

"Oh, Astrid, I promise to return to you... Just wait," Alan murmured, caressing the screen until something made him frown. The video showed Astrid constantly glancing to her side. "What's distracting you?"

"She is looking at the interior of the neighboring stall," Isabella answered. "Would you like me to play the recording of that interview too?"

"Yes."

"Video recording #1, from Passenger #29317, playing."

[Name, please?]

[Alan Warden.]

"Is that my interview?" He glanced back at the other side of the monitor, where Astrid’s video window had been paused, now eternally looking to her left.

[Registration found. Age seventeen. 5 feet, 10 inches tall. Currently weighing 150 pounds…]

[I suppose...] the recorded Alan replied with a tired expression on his face.

[Please, tell us, why would you like to board The Santa María?]

[You’re asking why? Because I failed my primary objective, okay? And my mentor told me that thanks to my efforts I had a guaranteed ticket to enter here. If you could say that failing counts as an achievement…]

Alan paused his interview and played Astrid’s.

[Miss Astrid?]

[Y-yeah? What is it?] She turned to the camera, looking confused.

[Could you answer the question, please?]

[Absolutely! Um, could you repeat it?]

“She didn’t hear what I was saying, right?” Alan asked.

“Affirmative. I keep the information collected in the interview process private from civilian passengers.”

“What other records do you have of her?”

“Playing recording number two.”

The video showed a security camera of her sitting in the Alvearium’s facilities dining room with no company, although the recording’s audio revealed more people were around. Alan read the video's date.

That’s from a couple of weeks before they launched The Santa María into space.

“Playing recording number three.”

Another surveillance camera, from a later date. Astrid could be seen leaning over a wall of the many staff corridors, carrying a dozen folded blankets.

I recognize what she’s doing there. She volunteered to assist others in the facility, running errands. But why is she standing there, doing nothing?

“Were you monitoring her at all times?” He chuckled.

“My sister AI, Elizabeth, from the Alvearium headquarters on Earth, had been instructed to record any instance of strange behavior from any of the selected passengers.”

“Wait, what? I was joking! Was eating alone in the cafeteria considered strange?”

“That is correct. Elizabeth had suspected Passenger #29316, Astrid Bradford, of having depression or sociopathic tendencies. If that would have been the case, Astrid would have been rejected from The Novus program and another candidate would have been selected.”

“Come on, you can’t diagnose something like that just by—!”

“According to Elizabeth’s logs, 15 instances of Astrid Bradford showing unfavorable behavior were recorded, but as requested by Executive Director Aston Bradford, Elizabeth reevaluated her previous assessment.”

Aston Bradford? Is that her father?

Something new was happening in the video, where Astrid started strolling through the corridor. A few feet away from her, a door had opened and a young man exited from it while distractedly talking to someone inside. Seconds later, the unaware guy crashed into Astrid, making her drop the blankets.

“I remember that day…” he muttered, watching himself aiding her as she grinned at him.

Don’t tell me that she did that on purpose...

“On September 12, Elizabeth finally registered positive social interaction from Astrid Bradford, closing the case. Playing recording number four.”

Alan watched himself talking to a smiling Astrid inside The Santa María. She was using the last set of clothes she would be seen with before entering the cryo chambers.

“Playing recording number five.”

[Passenger #29316, Astrid Bradford, are you ready to enter The Novus System?]

[“Yes,” a nervous Astrid replied from inside her capsule, a ventilator mask already attached to her face and no clothes covering her shoulders.

[Scanning. No health conditions have been found. Although your heart rate is higher than normal. There is nothing to worry about, Astrid. This process will be as simple as sleeping.]

[It’s not that. I’m already used to this. It’s just that... I did something embarrassing just a few minutes ago.]

[Was it an unpleasant experience, Astrid?]

[Not at all! On the contrary. J-just continue.]

With those words, the remaining seconds of the video showed her falling profoundly asleep.

"That would be all for today, Isabella," Alan said, in a dry voice. "Leave the monitor as it is, please."

"Understood, Alan. Good night."

"Good night."

The room's lights went out as Alan remained in his place, his face illuminated by the lit screen. He tapped it with his index finger and started watching the videos all over again.

[Name, please.]

[That would be Astrid Bradford…]

*****

****

***

**

*

"Chief Technician, Alan Warden, congratulations on solving every issue onboard The Santa María. Well done."

Yeah, and it only took me, what, 241 days?

"Glad to be of service," he said, his voice tinged with bitterness as he glanced at the hovering drone. "What's next?"

"As a sign of gratitude, today's dinner will be cake."

“Oh, that would be nice!”

His grin faded at the sound of an incoming delivery tube, the same method used to transport his usual meals made of paste.

You have to be kidding me…

He reluctantly grabbed the recipient. "Cheers… I guess." He took a sip and frowned. "I-Isabella…"

"Yes, Alan?"

"This… actually tastes good! Is it chocolate? Even though it's paste as always, it’s quite different from what I eat every day! Thanks, Captain!"

"Glad to hear that. It was the product of trial and error until finding the right amount of mixed chemicals to achieve the desired flavor."

"What happened to the failed attempts? I thought nothing on the ship would go to waste."

"I feed it to the other passengers."

"Figures."

"Chief Technician, Alan Warden, it's time for you to learn what happened on the ship 243 days ago, and the reason I kept it as classified information from you until now."

*****

****

***

**

*

"Goddammit," he muttered while rushing his way through the automatic track that would lead him back to the cryo chambers.

A flying drone followed him. "Chief Technician, Alan Warden, it would be wise to rest at least a day before entering The Novus again."

"I'll rest in the capsule anyway," he said, too impatient to wait for the doors to be fully open.

"I was referring to your mental health, Alan. Receiving all that info has taken a toll on your psyche."

"I’ve been here for eight months, so resting a day here won't help, trust me!"

He got in his capsule and removed his clothes as fast as he could. Once he stored them by throwing them inside, he laid down and put his ventilator mask on.

“Passenger #29317, Alan Warden, are you ready to enter the Novus System?”

“Yes, hurry!”

“Scanning. Your heart rate is unusually high, and your stress levels are—”

"Inject me with something to calm myself, or whatever, just let me in, now!”

As he got forcibly sleepy, a memory crept into his mind.

*****

****

***

**

*

"Are you nervous?" he had asked a frowning Astrid, 244 days ago.

"A little," she replied, looking away and puffing her chest out.

Her lost-in-thought expression is especially cute.

They, and a thousand others, were standing on the automatic track, being transported to where they would spend years sleeping and dreaming of another world.

"There's nothing to worry about, trust me,” he said, grabbing her shoulder. “This technology is not that new, you know? It has been tested for at least a decade."

"12 years, specifically,” she blurted out. “And that’s not what I'm worried about," she said with a tiny voice, as a hovering drone got close to them.

"Alan Warden, please step onto the left track. Thank you for your cooperation… Astrid Bradford, please step on the right track. Thank you for your cooperation… Thomas Grant, please…"

"Well, this is it," Alan said as he glanced at the forked road.

"Y-yeah…" she muttered without looking at him.

Two different destinations were ahead of them.

As Alan glanced at her bob hairstyle, he wished he could come up with something. He wished to find the right words and make that a moment worth remembering.

But it's not like we'll never meet again. We can hang out inside the Novus again… At least I hope so.

"I'll see you around," he finally said, as the ‘Y’ shaped track separated them. Astrid did not glance back, which made his chest ache. It's fine, he said to himself.

"Alan!" the girl suddenly cried while backtracking, pushing other girls aside.

"Yes?!" he replied, as both constantly grew apart.

"Once we get inside, we should remain together!"

"You mean like, teaming up?" he asked, inadvertently pushing away other passengers.

"I was thinking more like dating!" Astrid shouted, smiling, making other girls in the line whisper to each other.

"Dati—Are you serious?!"

"Yes, we should totally date! What do you say?!"

"I would love to!"

"Find me, Alan! Find me, please!" She beamed.

"I will!" he shouted, as it became impossible for the two to keep eye contact. "I will…"