Booster awoke. He examined his surroundings just by moving his eyes. He was lying on a bed in a dimly lit gray room that was the standard crew quarters on the Oracle. Of course, this room did not have his capsule as the capsule didn’t exist in scrum. He looked to the left and saw a window and the twinkling stars of outer space beyond it. He turned his head to the right. No personal belongings. These are just generic quarters and there is very little point in spending any time personalizing the Lobby as the crew spends very little time here. This is even true for the crew members that oversaw the real-world monitoring of the Oracle. They might spend a few hours here or there in the lobby every week. In truth, RETA did most of the monitoring. And when he did switch from a scrum to the lobby, he typically disappeared from wherever he was standing in the scrum and appeared directly in his control room and then back to where he was in the scrum. Thus, he hardly ever saw his quarters.
He sat up and noted that he was wearing casual clothing. A simple light blue sweatshirt and matching sweatpants. He even had shoes on already. He swung his legs over the bed. Instinctively he expected to feel stiff, but since it was an administrative scrum rather than a live scrum, that would not be the case. In the same vein, there was no smell. There was no tang of cleaning solutions or dirty laundry or even of purified air.
“Lights to normal.” He said out loud and the lights came up to pleasantly illuminate the room. He stood and stretched although it didn’t really have the expected effect. This alone would have been enough indication that they were still in a scrum. He reflexively wanted to stretch his muscles to get the oxygen and blood flowing, but since he wasn’t really waking up, it didn’t quite feel the same.
He dropped his arms feeling a bit unsatisfied. “Mission Status.”
The automated female voice of RETA spoke. “All systems normal. We are currently on day 5738 of the mission. Our position is approximately 78 light years from Earth. Our current speed is effectively 293,797 kilometers per second.”
“That means it has been,” He waggled his head side to side a couple times as he did the math in his head, “Fifteen years. How much time has passed on Earth since we left?”
“Approximately 79 years.” RETA responded.
“Hmmm,” Booster responded with a bit of melancholy. It was a bit unnerving to deal with time periods that used to represent multiple lifespans. Almost everyone living in the Sol system had been alive at least half that long when he left, but he had only been alive eighteen years before boarding the Oracle. Booster himself was nearing 33 years old if one didn’t adjust for accelerated time in the scrums. If one did, he was more like 40. On one hand, he didn’t feel that old having spent all his adult life in one simulation after another. On the other hand, he’d technically spent more time alive in simulations than not and he felt every minute of his age. “Have we been notified of a candidate planet?”
“Affirmative. Briefing is scheduled to commence in 30 minutes.”
Booster nodded. It was the only thing he could think of that would cause the leadership to end a training scenario early. We must have new data or completely different data that needs to be addressed immediately. He tried to remember what the last scrum was. It can be strange how a change of scrum will almost feel like waking from a dream. The real difference was that when waking from a dream, the dream was often hard to grasp and hold as it faded. The recall from a scrum might be foggy for a bit but it tends to get better with time. Then, he remembered. It was a rocky planet. It reminded Booster a lot of Mars. Red, barren rock. It had near earth gravity and an atmosphere that was oxygenated by a heavily salted ocean that was teeming with algae.
It had been a brutal scenario. It was without a doubt one of the most difficult ones the colonists faced. The colony had little to start with. Landing the omnilander near the ocean, they opted to desalinate the water. If there was fresh water on that planet it was well hidden. Then, they had to break up the surface rock, mix it with the algae from the ocean as well as some of the bacteria they brought with them to create topsoil.
It wasn’t the first time they had set up the desalination plant. Booster was always very satisfied with projects like that. Colony ships like the Oracle were wonders of modern technology and engineering. They were created to cope with the harshest conditions and provide a livable habitat for the colonists. They could land on a moon like Luna and make a reasonable existence for decades if it was necessary. And decades would be enough time to get back into space and find a more permanent solution.
“All hands report to the auditorium for a briefing.”
Booster jumped up and headed for the briefing. He nodded to a few other people he ran across in the hall and gave his trademark smile and finger guns to those he knew very well. He recognized everyone as he had worked with almost everyone at some point in at least one simulation or another. He reached the Auditorium and entered. For the most part, the Lobby was an exact representation of the ship. While traveling through space, there was no room for an “all hands” meeting. So, in a departure from reality, the Auditorium was on the outside of the ship. It was as if a giant bubble was placed on the outside of the ship, and they had nice comfortable chairs and a stage with a podium. Most of all, stars were streaking overhead. It was breathtaking. There was once a concert here that was amazing.
The Auditorium was abuzz with anticipation. The dozen heads of staff were milling about and chatting animatedly. It had been forever since he’d been in the Lobby with the whole crew in one place. As he spent most of his time in a live scenario with the crew spread out over a place the size of a small nation, it felt good to see everyone here.
Booster saw a few friends from the security force sitting together and hurried over to join them. Med would probably join them soon. “Hey guys,” He reached out to fist bump the others, “Boso, Squid, Fixer, Juggs.”
Juggernaut set his mouth and looked at Booster seriously, “Don’t call me that. It’s Juggernaut.”
Booster nodded noncommittally. “Ok. Sorry.” Everyone called him that. Good luck changing it.
Medusa joined them a few minutes later, nodding to each of them. “Booster, Boso, Squid, Fixer, Juggs.”
Juggernaut turned toward the stage with disgust and muttered a few curses.
“What’s his problem?” Medusa sat.
“He’s getting tired of everyone calling him Juggs.” Boso offered. “He says it sounds like a guy with moobs.”
Medusa shook her head. “Good luck changing that. Everyone calls him that.”
“I know, right?” Booster sat up.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“Ahem,” Booster heard a familiar voice to his left and looked up to see his father. His father was some 20 years older than Booster. The family resemblance was undeniable except for his father’s shaved head that was the result of thinning hair. It would be a simple matter to regrow the hair or permanently replace it but, of course his parents, being part of the Originists, would have nothing to do with anything like that. They firmly believed that humanity’s soul was tied to their experience as humans. Any genetic or cybernetic alteration to humans watered down their experience and therefore diluted their humanity. “Greetings gentlemen,” His father spoke in his somewhat archaic manner as he nodded to them. He also looked at Medusa and somewhat stated more curtly without seeming to be particularly friendly or unfriendly, “...and lady. Anatol, your mother and I would like you to join us. Please come with me.” He stood back and held his arm out to indicate the direction they would be going.
It wasn’t a question or a request no matter how pleasantly it was stated. While Booster was an adult, he still usually decided to go along with his parents’ requests rather than make a scene. Booster nodded and stood. “Sure, see you guys later.” He said failing to hide his irritation. His friends responded with their farewells.
The group watched as Booster and his father moved toward “their section.” Juggernaut spoke up. “Those guys are total douches. They act like they are better than everyone even though they are the least likely to survive.”
Juggernaut spoke from experience. Scrum after scrum, the Originists had fared poorly. In some cases, their lack of adaptability has created problems for the rest of the colony. By insisting they be allowed to naturally adapt to the environment and, at times, refusing life-saving genetic or cybernetic treatments, they had a dramatically higher mortality rate. It also didn’t help that they acted superior to those with genetic and cybernetic enhancements. The Originists only made up about 200 of the 6000 colonists.
They chose to dress differently. They always tried to farm their own food using their own special “heritage” seed stock. While they were willing to use some tech to at the start, such as growing livestock, they always swore off any tech they felt like they didn’t need. Sometimes, even when they clearly needed it. They even wanted to live in mud huts and grow their own materials for clothing rather than use fabricators to manufacture living structures and clothing and tools.
Fixer nodded. “Well, it sounds like a problem that will take care of itself.”
Medusa glared at him. Fixer held up his hands. “I don’t mean Booster. He’s nova. I mean assuming he doesn’t choose to stay as strict as his parents and the other Ginnys.”
Medusa looked back at Booster and his father walking away. She hoped that was the case.
Booster made his way to the seating available next to his mother. She smiled fondly at him and patted the seat next to her. “Thank you for joining us, Anatol. It’s good to see you in a moment of relaxation. It’s not quite as nice as seeing you outside of this damnable simulation, but we’ll take what I can get.”
“Of course, Mother. It’s good to see you too.” Booster said reflexively as he sat down.
“I know, you’d probably prefer to sit with your friends, but as you’ve stated before, since you are an adult, there’s no certainty that we’ll end up in the same scrum.” His father said while managing to make the word 'scrum' sound like an epithet. “We need to seize upon any chance we can to spend time together.”
“Yes, Father.” Booster replied.
“Dear,” His mother started, “who was the woman you were sitting with?”
For a second Booster was caught off guard and looked back to where he was sitting. It was Medusa they were talking about. “Uh, that is Medusa. She’s on the security team.”
His mother nodded and haltingly, if not sternly, pushed, “And... she’s a ... friend?”
“Yes?” Booster narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. “Why?”
His father responded. “We would like to ensure it remains... a friendship.”
Booster was irritated. “Mother. Father. I love and appreciate you, but that is hardly your business. I am an adult. Not even a young adult, but I have been considered an adult for 15 years and more if one includes the time acceleration within the scrums. I’m not a child and I will not be treated like one.”
“Anatol,” His mother tried to sooth him. “I’ll not mince words. You know very well why we are here and the goals we seek to accomplish. We understand that you may have your... escapades within the scrum, but once we land on a planet, we need to be prepared to match up with those like us. We are approaching a potential and likely planet upon which we can settle. We need to circle the wagons, so to speak.”
“I am no longer certain I am on the same page as the Originists.” Booster crossed his arms.
“What?” His father hissed trying to keep his voice down in some attempt to maintain a decorum that was shallow at best. “Is this because of some red-eyed cyberfreak? I knew we shouldn’t have...”
And there it is.
“That is out of line, Father!” Booster made little attempt to keep his voice low.
Simultaneously, his mother attempted damage control, “Dear, your father overreacted because he is passionate about the future of humanity.”
“Yes! I am passionate about the idea that my grandchild might look up into the devil-red glowing eyes of his mother! That is unnatural!”
“Unbelievable! Father, you and mother both have cybernetic and genetic enhancements. This seems a little hypocritical.” Booster knew this argument was weak.
“We did what was demanded of us in order to go to another world where we might have a chance to start over. We are scrabbling on the edge of a precipice struggling to give humanity a new home where humans are not required sacrifice mind, body, and soul, to the machinations of corporations merely to survive. If we could have done this without any enhancements,” His father spit that word like it was foul language. He was breathing heavy in ferocious anger. “We would have done so. And you know that.”
“Still, are you saying you intend to reverse all your genetic enhancements? Are you going to go back to normal aging? Are you going to try and live on a new planet with a standard immune system?”
“Eventually, yes.” Father stated matter-of-factly.
Booster knew this conversation was coming. He hoped it wouldn’t happen until he had time to really consider his position. He agreed with a lot of what the Originists believed, but he also felt like there was a middle ground. Their methods would not only potentially restore humans to their natural evolution, but it would restore the potential of many genetic diseases and disorders. It would shorten human lifespans to less than 100 years. It would handicap their intellect. At least, it would be handicapped compared to what it was now. They claimed to want to restore humanity to a natural experience, but Booster didn’t think they really understood how awful human existence was throughout time. They could understand but they chose to only see reality the way they wanted to see it.
His father saw Booster was contemplating and thought he was winning the argument. “Don’t choose these half-machines, half-monsters over your family and our attempt to restore humanity.”
That, of course, was a step too far.
“If that attitude towards other members of humanity is what it means to stand with you then, I think I will choose them.” Booster started to walk back to the other group. He stopped and turned. "I'll make certain that your epitaph notes that you died for your principles."
"Fear of a natural death has no hold upon me." His father stood and put his hand on Booster’s shoulder. “Please. This is a mistake. You must realize that they are no longer human.”
Booster shrugged. “Maybe I don’t want to be human. Not if it means enduring old age and disease and disabilities and starvation. Maybe it’s time for humans to move beyond ‘humanity’ or at least what humanity has been. Survival of the fittest is what made humans what they are. I don’t think using all the tools available to us is somehow cheating the system or even that we need to stay what we always have been.”
“You don’t mean that.” Mother gasped. She placed her hand over her mouth. Booster could see her eyes water.
Booster looked at her. Her reaction seemed to be a little over the top and she was normally very levelheaded. “That...uncharitable attitude toward others is not how I was raised. You are asking me to think about my future. Perhaps you both should think about the same. Humans will likely need every advantage they have if we are going to survive on a new planet. Throwing some of those advantages away for the sake of ideology seems...short-sighted at best. And it’s potentially lethal at worst.”
Booster made his way back to the seat next to Medusa and plopped down with a sigh.
“You, ok?” she asked quietly.
“Yeah.” Booster lied and kept his eyes forward and focused on nothing.
“If you need to talk about it,” she continued in a soft, concerned voice. She gently placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “Maybe later you can flog it.”
“I hate you.”