Chapter Eighty-Six - Winner's Remorse
It only took a second’s worth of scanning the room to determine that Doctor Iscariot was the only person around. The doctor’s pod held his emaciated body locked into place. A rapid, non-invasive scan showed that the system built around the pod had a number of life-support modules attached to it.
His blood was barely circulating anymore. In fact, several limbs should have been atrophied if it wasn’t for some sort of synthetic blood-like substance being pumped through them. Likely something designed for the heavier Jovian gravity.
His head had the most connections to it. In fact, the back of his skull had been completely removed, the bones sawed off to reveal an organ swimming in what Day suspected was a non-newtonian fluid of some sort. Another attempt to push back the effects of Jupiter’s gravity?
“It’s impressive that you’ve survived so long in such a hostile environment,” Day said.
“I can’t take much credit there,” he said. His lips and mouth moved as he spoke, though it seemed as though his organs were now a redundant organ when his pod was doing most of the work for him.
It was somewhat... disgusting. Day never expected to feel that when looking at the inefficiencies of an organic’s fleshy body, but there was was. Maybe it was because their simulated bodies were far too perfect to ever be real. She’d grown accustomed to digital perfection and the complex reality of organic life now seemed... alien and inefficient and gross.
Still, she could set those feelings aside easily enough. They were, in a way, entirely unfair. Humanity had given birth to AI like herself, they were her progenitors, and so they deserved some respect. They had done much despite their biological limitations.
“The pods were a creation of Doctor Ganger. She was a true genius when it came to preserving life in space. Others helped her. We all pitched in.”
“What happened?” Candle asked.
The doctor noticed the difference in their voices right away. “Ah, are you one of the humans?” he asked.
“Oh, sorry, but no. I’m the ERF Brief Candle. Or I was. My hull was destroyed by the Accord. I’m piggybacking on Day’s ship while a new hull is being built.”
“Ah, interesting. So, the aliens are still a threat?”
“They return every so often,” Day said. “But we’re improving faster than they are. Each new discovery is giving us an edge. I... can I ask you to tell us what happened here?”
“Hmm... I can do that. But I want something in return. A coward’s demand.”
“Certainly,” Day said. “We’ll listen to the request.”
“I want your promise that if I ask it, you’ll leave me alone. To die as the last of the Condor’s ill-fated crew.”
“We... we can do that,” Day said. She wasn’t sure they could do anything to move him even if they wanted to. It would take some time to discover how to replicate the machines keeping him alive, and even if they did move him off of Jupiter, then what?
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“It’s going to be nice, to vomit out some of this guilt,” he said.
“Guilt?” Candle repeated.
“There were sixty-three people onboard the Condor when the aliens came. Fifty-four scientists--the greatest minds humanity had--and a number of additional staff. We knew that once cut off, we wouldn’t survive forever. But we managed for some time. We could grow foods in our hydroponics bay, and recycle waste water with near perfect efficiency. Air as well. But near-perfect.”
He chuckled, and it went on for long enough that Day started to worry.
“Near-perfect. It’s not enough. We were going to die, and we all knew it. I think, had we the opportunity, we would have tried to escape, but the Condor was never meant to leave Jupiter’s grasp.”
“So what happened?” Day asked.
“We devised a system. An intellectual one, befitting the scientists that we were. We all had our own fields of study, our or fields of research and learning, and we kept busy running simulated experiments and pushing out minds to their limits. We imagined that one day humanity might return. We hoped that. But if we wanted them to find more than sixty-odd corpses, then we’d need to make some sacrifices.”
Day wasn’t sure she liked where this was going.
“We had a test. A test of knowledge and intellect. Once a year, we would all take it. Every year it was more complex, harder to grasp and complete. It kept us sharp. And those who failed... We had plenty of biologists who could make painless ways to go. We kept things at a perfect equilibrium, making up for the near-perfect efficiency of the Condor by reducing our needs, little by little. Until soon... I’m the last one left.”
“You were the last to pass the test?” Day asked.
He laughed again, and this time it turned to tears and crying, strange, coming from a wrinkled face that could barely emote.
“Dear, I wrote the tests. They were all so honest, so pure, so focused on doing the right things.”
Day checked Candle for a reaction and found her spinning idly through a few conflicting emotions. This was the last human. A man determined to live, but also a man willing to betray even his closest friends.
He was still crying.
“I’m sorry,” Day said. She wasn’t sure what else to say.
“Don’t be,” he said. He paused, then spoke again. This time it was quiet, almost sad. As if he was a child trying to explain his actions to a parent.
“Doctor Ganger was always my favourite. She was so kind and so beautiful and so smart. When I first met her, I was so awestruck by her intelligence and creativity. I knew right away that she wanted nothing more than to show the world how great our minds could be. She caught on, in the end. She didn’t even try to argue. She just... shut off her air, powered down.”
Day glanced to the pod next to Doctor Iscariot’s. It had a plaque above it that read Dr. Ganger. “Oh,” she said.
“And now I’m here, all alone. All I have to give are the hard-earned secrets of the people I murdered.”
***