Humanity in the Deep

Roger stepped off the bullet train, still thinking about the impossible message he had received.

He had lived in the city of Valentine his entire life and had only left it a few times. If they hired him, he would soon be further from home than he had ever thought possible.

He exited on one of the few stops outside city limits and found the wide forest path the instructions said he was to follow. The trees were all the same height and all the same tint as the grass.

Walking down the path, he heard shouting and music. Turning the last bend, he saw dozens of colorful tents. They contrasted beautifully with the sky.

There looked to be hundreds of people in the clearing. Most were wearing very little, like pictures of beach parties he’d seen from other planets. Roger had never seen anyone wear less than long pants and a shirt in person.

He stood there, mouth agape trying not to stare when he heard, “You must be Roger Powell.”

“Yeah, sorry, yeah, I am,” Roger stuttered as he turned and saw the same woman from the Erikson’s video. In person, she looked taller and was of indeterminable age range between forty and a hundred. She wore nothing but a set of very short shorts, a shirt without a belly, and two wristcomps.

He wondered briefly how she had found him. Then he looked down at himself and realized he had more clothing on than the next ten people.

“I’m Gina. I’m the one who responded to you.”

Roger looked at her briefly then looked into the distance.

Gina sighed then told him, “You can look at me. We would hardly wear clothing like this if it bothered us for people to look.”

Roger looked at her eyes briefly with effort. Looking at the tents, he wondered what was going on.

“Those the paintings?” Gina asked, pointing at the cart.

“The ones that I haven’t sold, at least.” Roger hurried through the explanation, embarrassed by the number of unsold works.

“You want to have a look around?” Gina motioned forward.

Roger set his cart to stay behind and started to walk forward when Gina said, “Bring it with you; you may need it.” Roger looked at her questioningly but did as she asked.

---

They walked through the throng of people. They looked like anything but the stoic engineers and explorers Roger had imagined.

“Welcome to the Farewell Carnival.”

“That sounds ominous.”

She laughed with genuine mirth, “No, it just means we’re leaving on a build, and want to stretch our legs and feel the wind on our skin. Six and a half standard years is a long time to be gone from wind and grass, even for those of us not born to it.”

“You were born on the Erikson?”

“Most of us were. A great many do spend a build off it going to some kind of specialized school or just on sabbatical. Almost all our medical personnel have must train off the Erikson; we don’t have enough serious injuries to train people with. Two builds ago, I lived on the halo over Hope. A good place, I can understand why people live there.

“The Erikson isn’t just a ship; it’s a home. We’re a society with history, customs, and ways of doing things. We’ve been independent for about a hundred and sixty standard years, more than long enough to have our own sense of identity.”

Not knowing how to respond, he stayed quiet for a few moments.

“You’re...not what I expected,” Roger said.

“What were you expecting?”

“More business meeting, less... well, carnival.”

“Don’t underestimate the importance of partying, of letting go of your worries for a time.

“We may not make it on-site for two years or so, but we are hardly idle during that time. Often, we need to learn a new job entirely. We don’t have enough people for everyone to be super specialized, like on a planet or a halo. We have more than a few engineers who also are astronomers or physicists. We even have a biologist who taught himself how to compose music, and is a minor star on Hope.

“That said, we don’t allow work to be all that we are. Part of my job is making sure people aren’t overworked.”

They walked for a few minutes when Gina asked, “Would you like to auction your paintings off? If the pictures you sent did justice to your work, I know several people who will would want them. New Europe is not exactly a good place to pick up decorations, or art in general.”

Roger looked around; he couldn’t remember anyone saying that openly before.

“Sure, sure, if we have time,” He said quickly as he wondered if she had decided not to hire him already.

She tapped the shoulder of a black man who looked to be a couple of years older than Roger as he was walking past.

“This is Kyle Loke.” The man gave a short, flourished bow and said, “Kyle Loke, tailor and part-time cook at your service.”

Gina gestured to him and said, “Kyle, you mind setting up for an auction of our prospective painter’s works?”

He walked up to Roger’s cart and asked, “May I?”

Roger undid the old blanket he used to cover the paintings and handed Kyle the top one. It was of a small waterfall in an old-growth forest on Earth. The pure green grass still looked slightly wrong to him; he was used to the blue-tinted grass of New Europe.

It was one of the most complex paintings that he had ever done. There was no old-growth on all of New Europe to reference, so he’d gone to a waterfall and imagined what it would look like if it was on Earth. It was the last thing he finished before his father had been killed on the beltway by a dozer.

Kyle’s eyes went wide as he said, “Five percent commission on all sales?”

Roger hesitantly said, “Sure...” He honestly doubted they would sell, but it was worth trying.

Kyle set off at a fast pace, stopping to tell the people he passed that they were going to auction off the paintings. He and Gina followed.

Roger tried to keep his head about him and ignore the fact that everyone was too close to him. They liked to get within half a meter before introducing themselves.

“Could you paint a dragon?”

“I could, yes...” Roger looked wide-eyed at the grown man who asked the question.

It was not thirty seconds before a woman who had little more than underwear on asked, “Could you paint me in wearing accurate medieval armor?”

“If I knew what it looked like, yes.”

Others just asked basic questions, like why he wanted to go with the Erikson. He ended up just telling them that he needed work and wanted to paint more than anything. It was the best he could come up with.

After what felt like hours, they made it to an empty stall between two large tents. The crowd following them started to spread out, and the tents to the side were quickly taken down.

“Gentlemen, ladies—please be quiet!” Kyle shouted with a good-natured smile on his face. He was standing on top of a crate in front of everyone.

Gina gently led Roger to the side of the podium. Kyle continued, “Now, as you all obviously have heard, we are having an auction of Roger Powell, our prospective painter’s works.” He gestured with his hand at Roger.

“Now we have thirty-three paintings, and as this is the last day of the carnival, we can’t take all day.

“Ping me with your bids, starting at fifty coins.”

If the exchange rate he was told was correct, that was more than he had gotten for any of his paintings in a long time.

Few things made him happier than selling his paintings. Even when he made little money from it, knowing they would be appreciated was a large part of why he painted.

In less than an hour, all the paintings were gone, and he was surrounded by people shaking his hand and asking him more questions.

He was both exhausted and exhilarated. He was going to have more money in his pocket than he had ever had. Even if they did not hire him, he would be better off than he had been for a long time. For a while, anyway.

It was almost sunset when they got back to the edge of the carnival. Gina motioned inside a tent with two chairs and a table with some odd-looking equipment on it.

She said, “Assuming you pass one last test, I am willing to offer you the job.”

Roger looked at her, dumbfounded.

“Last test? Did I miss the others?” he asked with skepticism.

With seriousness, she said, “That’s what today was about, yes. I was watching you closely and seeing how you would react to us. You are quite earnest and accepting of us. Even though you were uncomfortable, you pushed through it.

“And, of course, you’re a talented artist. That much was clear from looking at the images you sent.”

After a short pause, Roger sat down and said, “So, what’s the final test?”

Gina said, “Just a mental examination. I show you images, and we see what parts of your brain show activity. For example, we can tell if you don’t feel empathy when we show you someone in pain.”

“What, like if I was a murderer?”

“No, it can’t detect that. It would, however, tell us if you were a sociopath. In fact, that’s one of the easier things to test for. The test’s purpose is to look for psychological disorders or conditions that would affect your safety or ours. Lacking empathy would put all of us in danger. We need to know that we can count on you during emergencies.” She started to attach some monitors she picked up from a nearby box to Roger’s fingers.

She attached some others to Roger’s head then she sat back down.

She took her wristcomp off, set it to tablet mode, and propped it on the table. “I’m sorry, but some of these will be shocking; they have to be to work.” She then slid her finger along her other wristcomp.

A series of images were shown on the comp. It showed people horribly burned, children smiling with parents, and a dozen others. Each was shown just long enough to be seen and understood. After five minutes, it ended.

Gina spent a short amount of time looking at what Roger assumed were the results, then she said, “You passed.” She made a motion just over her wristcomp in Roger’s direction. “I just gave you a copy of your results if you’re interested, as well as our charter and laws.

“You will be an adult passenger, not a citizen. In practice, the only differences are that as a passenger you won’t be able to vote, stand for election, or become an officer.

“You’ll also need to get safety qualified, but that’s not hard. You’ll need to learn how to wear a suit, how to put on an emergency mask, etc. I’ll make sure someone helps you with it.”

“You have your own laws?”

“We are a ship of about five thousand people who have no contact with the outside world for up to eight years at a time. We have to have our own laws, and government to function. We are technically a small nation, as I said before. I suggest you review the charter. Our legal system may be simpler than yours, but it is no less important.”

She must have seen the look on his face because, she quickly added, “Just don’t put anyone in danger, and you should be fine. We also have a full bill of rights.

“You are being hired for one build, after which you may leave if you want. If there are no major problems, you should be offered full citizenship.”

She sighed, “We usually try and give people a week or two to think this over but we’re leaving the planet over the next two days. You’re going to have to decide before fourteen-thirty local tomorrow. I suggest you mingle more to see if this is right for you.

---

It took a depressingly short amount of time to put his affairs in order. He sold or gave most of his belongings away to Evelyn. For once, he had no debts; his landlord was never happier.

He had little left except some old-fashioned books his father had given him and his brushes. The rest of his windfall was spent on new sketchbooks and pencils. Sketching on a comp was never the same as using real pencils made of actual wood.

Surprisingly, they were not going to take a car to the Halo. A large ship called the Hermes had landed at the seldom-used spaceport for the trip, and he was to meet up with them there.

He and Evelyn were speeding out to the spaceport in a small rented car. She was silent the entire trip out, he assumed she was worried. He was too. It was the biggest change he had ever made in his life. He hoped he wouldn’t screw it up.

When they arrived, he saw that the Hermes was huge, over a hundred meters in length. It loomed over them.

A long line of people were waiting to board the craft, talking to each other, some singing, or playing games.

Evelyn put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “You’re doing the right thing.” Her eyes softened, “I know you doubt yourself, but remember that they want you. They’re not just buying you a cheap ticket up the tether to the orbital ring; they’re taking you up on a ship. They would not do that for someone they don’t think is worth it.

“Your father would be proud. You need people in your life; you need to be more than a painter.”

She suddenly hugged him like she was afraid to let him go, then quickly turned away. Roger would miss her. Evelyn was the only person he really knew and was probably the only reason he had survived his father’s death. He owed her more than he could ever repay.

At that point, they reached the sonic cargo lift.

He looked back when he was almost inside the ship and saw Evelyn in the distance. He watched as the last link to his home got smaller with each passing second.