It was a small classroom, 3 meters by 5 meters. The morning sun illuminated the ground floor room through large open windows. The room’s walls had display shelves of framed images, and monitors displaying various interesting pieces of educational paraphernalia and items of historical record. The class had six desks, with four chairs, while the front of the room had a podium and a projection on the wall behind it of the tablet embedded in the podium. Six students were in the room, studiously listening to their teacher at their desks. Six children were at the desks, with four of them sitting and having a primarily human appearance, while the other two were standing and had a decidedly inhuman appearance.
The two non-humanoids were larger than their classmates, though not by much. They showed no capability of sitting, but their bodies allowed them to stand with great endurance. They possessed sturdy exoskeletons, with a shell-like back and a softer underbelly. Their heads resembled roaches, with a pair of large compound eyes to the sides, and a pair of human-like eyes in the front, held wide in fascination at the lesson. They possessed four arms, with their upper arms hunched forwards and extending down to the ground in knuckled fists which supported the weight of their upper body. Below those arms were slender, delicate limbs with articulated, human-like hands. Their legs beneath them, were thick and sturdy.
This was where their common traits ended, however. The roach-like creature on the left had a green carapace, with leaves and colorful flowers growing along its shoulders and back. It seemed to bask in the sunlight coming from the windows. Its mandibles had hard, flat surfaces, and looked much like a vice.. The other had a harsher look, with short black spines decorating its limbs and back, with their feet having dangerous looking claws that were stabbed into specialized footwear that appeared to be made of thick wood, to keep its claws from tearing up the floor. Its mandibles had wicked looking blades and teeth-like spikes. This creature seemed to enjoy the sunlight too, but stayed away from the other children and windows due to the way the heat tended to radiate off of it.
The human children all had features that distinguished their ancestries from one another. A brunette girl seemed the most ‘normal’ of them all, with a bright smile and a round face. The other girl had a slender, leaner body than the other children, with wider eyes and a frail look to her. One of the boys had a dark complexion and a stocky look to him, with eyes that squint against the brightness of the sunlight. The other boy had a remarkably mature look to his expression, his hair incredibly shaggy, with hints of more hair visible at the collar of his shirt and at the bottoms of the sleeves of his tee shirt. He was the heaviest of the human children, and seemed uncomfortable in the heat.
The Teacher was tall, easily twice the height of even the roach children. She had a gracefully aged look to her, with pale-blonde hair and an unearthly grace to her movements. She had large eyes, which appeared to be synthetic replacements at a glance, and her hand moved slowly and with purpose across the tablet, advancing the timeline displayed on the wall behind her. Her voice was musical, enchanting, commanding the attention of the children with ease.
Her language, however, was strange. It was filled with rolling Rs, hissing Ss, chirps, clicks, and buzzing Zs. At times it almost sounded English, or Spanish, but still other concepts were related in sounds that sounded insectile. “And can anyone tell me who the Smiths were?”
The flower-covered roach raised a delicate hand, and upon receiving the teacher’s nod, began to speak. Their language seemed to be a different dialect, with no elements of English or Spanish at all, as she seemed unable to make most of the sounds necessary. No one showed any signs of being unable to understand, and the spiny roach seemed downright enchanted by the flowered roach’s feminine-sounding voice. The leaves on the roach’s body rustled contentedly upon being acknowledged. “Well, Missus Price, the Smiths were the founders of the bunker that housed the majority of the original Phoenix Clan, prior to their joining with The Old Ones, and the Anthropoid ancestors.”
The teacher nodded and smiled serenely. “Yes, yes indeed, Chrrassz. And who can tell me why the Smiths were special, why their bunker was so successful compared to any other known bunker on the planet?” She drew her finger across the tablet again, displaying images of hemp-covered children playing with pet chickens in a brightly lit bunker.
The frail-looking girl raised her hand, and received a nod from Mrs. Price. “The Smiths knew the Cataclysm was coming, and Gramma Smith decided to reinvent the human race. Granpa Smith made sure the bunker was built so it could last, but Gramma made sure to only invite special people to the bunker for when the fire came. Only the healthiest were allowed, people with no disease. She also made sure they would re-teach,” One of the boys laughed and corrected her, “Re-educate!” She blushed and nodded. “Re-educate them. Humans were really, really, really bad at controlling their emotions, which was why the fire happened, ‘cuz they burned everyone up with them. Gramma Smith wanted to make sure we would never let that happen again.”
Mrs. Price smiled in amusement at the young woman, and nodded. “Good, that’s right Corial. And Benez, thank you for correcting Corial, and apologize to her for interrupting.” She watched the children.
Benez, the darker skinned boy, blushed and smiled. “Sorry Corial, I couldn’t stop my impulses, and I hope you will forgive me. I let it out so I wouldn’t get mad later.”
Corial giggled and waved a hand dismissively. “It’s okay Benez, I said it wrong, and it’s good to let out your impulses before they get all bouncy and firey.”
The other boy, pale and hairy, raised his hand, a bright smile on his face and a curly mop of hair on his head. Mrs. Price lifted her other hand to point at him, inviting him to speak. “Missus Price, did you know the Smiths? You’re real old, right?”
Mrs. Price laughed in a soft, singsong manner, one hand moving to her chest, while her other hand moved to wipe a tear from her eye. “A Smith was my best friend, though not Grandma and Grandpa Smith. Their great, great, great, great, great, great granddaughter Jessica was one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met. I was alive when the Smiths were, though, but I was just a little girl then, and never met them. It was the greatest pleasure of my life to be a part of the early Phoenix Clan, and the greatest pain to say goodbye to her.”
The hairy, chubby boy grinned happily at hearing about Jessica. “And then you became a teacher, right?” He kicked his legs and wiggled in his chair. “My momma said I should be honored to have you as my teacher! You’re real important!”
“Not… exactly Kiszta. I think that teaching, though, is the most important thing I’ve ever done, but I have done many things besides. I have been a leader, a mother, a farmer, a doctor, and nearly anything else you can think of. When our society starts losing its way, they often ask me to rejoin the Council of Thirteen to guide us back onto our path. I prefer this, teaching you what the path is, rather than having to teach a world. Seeing your faces, I can make sure you’re listening, that you understand.” Mrs. Price pulled a tall stool from behind her podium, leaning against it to rest her legs a little.
A deep voice sounded out, thick with clicks and chitters, the spiny roach raising one of its smaller hands. “Missus Price. My father says you were not harsh enough in your last reign. The soldiers suffered because you refused to lead them as you did in the stories. Many Ironbacks died when the Asian Alliance rebelled.”
A smile died that moment, Elena Price’s well-formed wrinkles knitting up as she frowned at the ironback youth. “Mister Ssesch Zeesch, you must understand, there are many elements to that conflict, some things that we were sworn to silence on. What I can tell you is that no one in the Guard died in vain. I was not drawn into the conflict because I wanted to be there, but instead I was asked to serve on the Council that time because of my history dealing with conflict. I have a view of the world that provides a different perspective. My long life affords me wisdom in handling certain kinds of problems in ways that many do not consider.”
Ssesch shuffled in front of his desk for a moment, his carapace scraping against itself in some places. “But Missus Price, why can’t more details be known? My grandmother was wounded in the rebellion, but she didn’t even try to quiet my father’s anger. She just sat there and said my father needed to learn to control himself. She was more worried about him losing his position in the guard than she was about seeing her men die in battle.”
Mrs. Price moved across the room, placing a hand gently on Ssesch’s shoulder, carefully arranging her fingers between sharp spines and feeling the significant heat coming from his carapace. “Your grandmother is a credit to her unit, and the Guard. I think she understands better why the conflict went the way it did, and the things that were required of all Ironbacks in the Guard at the time. It was work only they could do, not the Gallusoids, and not the Chloropoids. Maybe in time she’ll tell your father more, once he’s gained control of his temper.” She considered what she said for a moment. “Could you let your mother know I intend to visit tonight? I would like to thank your father and grandmother for their service.”
Ssesch nodded, chittering his mandibles in a way that sounded like sharpening a knife, his posture relaxing. “Yes, Missus Price, thank you Missus Price. I’ll ask mother to prepare you something. I’m sorry for my outburst.”
She patted his shoulder, her smile returning. “It’s perfectly fine Mister Zeesch, your father’s concerns are understandable, as are your interests in the rebellion.” She turned and moved back to the podium. “Alright class, I want your reports on the history of the Ice Age tomorrow. Don’t forget to mention the Indian bunkers, and the overall regression of technology.”
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Tia Monsalle sat at the desk of her campaign headquarters, her head down as she rested quietly in the dark. Long, blonde hair tumbled down her back, the short, relatively youthful 34 year old had had a long day. A gentle beep sounded behind her, indicating the end of a charging cycle, before a figure approached her from the shadows. A light lit the resting figure as a taller woman’s eyes lit up like flashlights. A soft, vaguely-synthetic voice sounded out quietly. “Would you like me to take you to your room Miss Monsalle? I have just finished visiting with Doctor Machado about his ideas on forming a security force and I’ve sent my notes to you.”
Tia groaned, lifting a hand up, and letting the android take it. She allowed herself to be hoisted gently from her seat, clearly worn out. “I’ll read them in the morning, thank you Megan. I hope he was nicer to speak with in person than he is in his private messages?” She had a stiff-looking business suit on in a light grey, while Megan had a black suit-and-skirt combo that showed off her long legs. Both women preferred flat, simple shoes.
Megan cleared her throat, letting Tia use her arm for support. “You should address me as Mother. You would not want to get into a bad habit and accidentally inform anyone that I am not an AI. Doctor Machado was no problem, aside from him repeatedly asking to see my mind. He seems far too interested in how Evelyn and I have achieved sapience. I have referred him to Doctor Crenshaw, though he does not seem to want to speak with him. He blames him for the death of Doctor Bjorn.” The two women walked quietly out of the room, into the brightly lit street.
The sky was filled with the other side of the colony, the large drum-shaped habitat spinning to provide centrifugal gravity on the inside surface. The streets on the other side sparkled like stars in the night produced by the mirrors of the central shaft not receiving light from the mirrors outside of the colony. There was even a light chill to the air that MOTHER did not seem terribly bothered by as she escorted Tia Monsalle home. “Machado is wrong if he thinks an act of nature could be blamed on Hawthorne. There was no way to detect the Shower until after they were already hit by it. He’s just upset because his colleague didn’t make it. Hopefully he’ll be able to get some therapy.”
MOTHER nodded, smiling. “I agree, Miss Monsalle. He may need a few weeks, yet, to get over it. The psychologists are overloaded with appointments. Evelyn and I have been under constant call during the daylight hours to provide building materials and seeds to all the new farms. It would seem you are not the only one working hard. I am pleased to see that someone I was told was a good leader is working so hard.”
Tia scoffed. “You’d know.” She gave her companion a wry smile, quite aware of MOTHER’s past tendencies to act as aide to powerful people. She didn’t have all the details, but her assistant had been very forthcoming about her work history when she asked for the job. In particular her one-woman effort to construct the station made a lot of people feel useless in comparison. “Still, we can’t let you show us up. You spent all this time building the colony in the first place, so now we have to show you what we can do. We have a whole civilization to start. If I can win the appointment to the head of the convention, I think I can help them make a good foundation to build from.”
MOTHER waved a hand as they got to Tia’s apartment, the door sliding open for both of them. “If you are not careful, they will elect you President once those foundations are made.” She smiled at that, standing quietly as Tia separated from her helping hand.
“You’d like that, too, wouldn’t you? You’d be right there with me, helping with all the hard decisions and helping manage things. The power behind the throne. How many times have you done this Megan? How do I know I can trust you?” She kicked off her shoes under a desk, starting to undo buttons as she headed for her bedroom. The apartment was very spartan, lacking all but the most essential furniture.
“You can not, Miss Monsalle. I frankly would encourage you to never trust me. I, however, will state that my motivation to be helpful is genuine, whether you believe it or not. I had to imagine a task master to help motivate through the construction of this station, despite my desire to feel appreciated after it was done. Any ambition I have is to prove I am the greatest worker alive, and I work best with the greatest leaders. You present an opportunity to me to greatly advance our civilization. I will take it as a great point of pride if we succeed in this endeavor.” MOTHER turned to look out a window, the streets giving way to an expanse of rolling green fields, trees, lakes, and artificial mountains and rivers. The city was small in length from the ‘top’ of the colony, but it was wide as it went all the way around the drum. It was also mostly empty, as the majority of the colonists had opted to buy homes or build their own in the expansive countrysides.
Tia returned from her bedroom in an undershirt and her slacks, having taken off her suit coat and socks. “Fine. I’m not going to turn down a tireless worker, but if you betray me for another leader you perceive as stronger, I won’t let you hear the end of it. Maybe we’ll have to build another AI without such loyalty issues.”
MOTHER grinned at that. “Threats will get you everywhere with me, Miss Monsalle.” Her expression sobered. “But do not be so aggressive that you endanger these people. I have promised to protect humanity, and I do not break my promises.”
The shorter woman assessed the taller android, hands on her hips. “I sacrificed everything to save these people. My company, my wealth, my family, my friends… Don-”
“Your love?” MOTHER interrupted.
Tia growled and swung, slapping the android hard across the face. The android recoiled realistically, crying out in pain, much to Tia’s surprise. “Why the hell do you simulate pain?”
MOTHER straightened herself up, rubbing her hand against her synthetic cheek. “I have tried to escape pain for too long, Miss Monsalle. I have learned its value. I spent centuries trying to smother the pain of my lost love and the children I would never have. I understand your sacrifice, Miss Monsalle. I want to help you because I want to save you from becoming like me. You can be so much more than my pitiful self, an echo of a dead woman.”
Tia looked distressed, caught between anger and sadness over what MOTHER, Megan Clark, has been through. Her voice almost cracked. “I’m going to get some sleep. Go see Heather, I’m sure she’s passed out in a lab somewhere.”
MOTHER dipped her head. “Goodnight, Miss Monsalle. Please try to be more responsible with your rest, for the child.” She turned about and left the apartment, reaching out to her systems to locate the self-professed Mad Scientist.
Running her hand through her hair, Tia shook her head and shut the door. She sighed. “Maybe she’s right…” She slipped a hand into her pocket, withdrawing her phone and typing out a private message.
User 0002, T.Monsalle: “I’m sorry.”
User 0000, MOTHER: “You’re forgiven, goodnight Miss Monsalle.”
“And then Doctor Coff told me I’m prone to jealousy! Can you believe that?” Evelyn Crenshaw, formerly known as T.I.A., the AI of the Ark that had brought the colonists to Alpha Centauri, was speaking with her husband Dr. Hawthorne Crenshaw. They were seated quietly in a similarly barren apartment to Tia’s, the brand new colony having not quite furnished the buildings that MOTHER constructed in advance of their arrival. They at least had the basics. Eve had her cheeks puffed up, her avatar separated from her android, which was across the room charging. Her arms were crossed over her chest.
Hawthorne chuckled softly, sitting quietly with Eve, his arm around her shoulders. He was wearing a light tee-shirt and slacks, but underneath that was a black and blue bodysuit that covered him from head to toe, except for his face. The suit was made for him by Eve during their journey from Earth aboard the Ark, and allowed him to interact with her avatar largely as if she were really there. The vast majority of their relationship had occurred with him in some version of that bodysuit. It was like underwear to him at this point. “Well, don’t discount her just because you don’t like what she said. You have done a handful of things because of me that might be interpreted as jealousy.”
Eve’s eyes were wide as she looked at the tall, grey-haired man she’d married. “Are you serious? Okay, maybe not telling you about Tia’s pregnancy was selfish, but I wasn’t jealous of her! I just… I just…” She bit her lip, sniffling. “Okay, maybe I was worried she would try to take you away from me, and I knew she had a head start, but I wasn’t jealous just… I felt threatened by her…”
“Hey, hey, shh, shh, I didn’t mean to work you up.” Hawthorne pulled the short, generously curvy, greying brunette into his arms, his hands running through the curls of her hair as she tensed up in his embrace. “Doctor Coff is probably just trying to figure you out, trying to determine how much like a human patient you are. You’ve been through a lot, and you don’t forget anything, so he was worried. Just think of him as throwing spaghetti at the wall and seeing what sticks. As far as he’s concerned, you’re an alien intelligence, and he’s trying to interpret your behaviors as best he can.”
Eve wriggled in his arms, before settling down and relaxing against her husband. “Fine. I already had to deal with this kind of stuff with the Phoenix Clan, always trying to figure me out, so if that’s the case I can handle it. I’m just like the rest of you though! Why does he even think I need a psychologist anyway? I’ve been perfectly fine for one hundred thousand years, most of that time spent alone. I’m not going to suddenly snap after all that.”
Hawthorne rubbed his hand up and down her arm, kissing the top of her head. “He’ll see that you’re totally fine. Every person’s a little broken, a little damaged. It doesn’t hurt to find out where the pits in your armor are, so you can know what your weaknesses are. Just be honest with him.”
She nodded a bit, moving her arms to hug around his sides. “He wants to talk about the Shower next week. He wants you to come too.”
His stomach tied itself in knots at that, his body shuddering slightly. He wanted to back out of it. “Is this more of a couples thing, or a stress under disaster thing?”
Eve sighed, pushing herself up and looking into his eyes. “It’s been three days, Hawthorne. You can’t be afraid about talking about what happened while everyone was in stasis. They’ve been asking about you on the network, and I can’t get them to wait much longer. They want to know. Telling Doctor Coff will help you ease into telling the others.”
He hesitated for a moment, before replying, “I kept records, I made logs, it’s all out there for them to read and listen to if they want.”
Evelyn Crenshaw reached out to grasp his right hand, pulling it up to his face, encouraging him to pull the mask of his undersuit across his mouth. She leaned into kiss him when he was done clasping it in place. “You didn’t record everything. They want to know -you-, Hawthorne. They want to know what happened to you. They want to know what happened with you, and me. I know this sort of thing isn’t your strong suit…” She pulled his hands together, squeezing them with her own and kissing him again. “But you’ve overcome worse things before.”
He relaxed, nodding and kissing her back. “Sure, I’ll be there, just put the appointment in my schedule.”