Vestige

The Office of Infrastructure held an emergency meeting that same day, facilitated by one of the Ship’s main self-actuator computerables; hours after Synthetic laborer Two had zipped Maintenance Technician Tyra Housenn’s reconnaissance within the Ship’s cordoned sector to Supervisor Mirandana Ellisante. It was not the entire employee-body of the Office, but of those who were in the major decision-making positions within the Ship.

Generations earlier, the charges of the Office of Infrastructure had the foresight to re-locate the agency within the middle section of the twenty-miles long spacecraft—that way the Office was equidistant from all sections of the Ship and travel-time was kept to a minimum! The outer hull of the Ship, Vestige, had originally been a smooth, elongated craft. But over the eon of its traversing outside Earth’s solar system ended up being encrusted with meteors and asteroid debris.

However, given that Infrastructure was not located within the coveted O’Neillian cylinder sector of the Ship—mostly reserved for residential and more professionally academic zones, the Office had a bit of a low reputation…that their whole agency was maintenance, as opposed to maintenance being a division within the Infrastructure agency. With help from the Ship’s myriad of science and engineering organizations and the Ship’s own self-actuator, Infrastructure was the agency that logistically was the one in charge of maintaining that five-mile-wide, spinning colony of two-and-a-half or so million residents of the entire generational ship that people took for granted!

Given the centerpiece of the problem was the nuclear fuel that was powering the Ship had finally reached the threshold of minimal-operational levels, scores of scientists from various disciplines had, also, attended the emergency meeting. Since the current actuator computerable was a relatively new manufactured system programmed by much older systems some decades previously, it was the main reason why the Ship’s systems were not aware of the nuclear fuel issue…in an ancient way of putting it: nuclear energy being the very source of power for the island-sized ship was Lost in Translation during the reboot of the Ship’s central systems those decades ago!

Even though she was considered low on the rung within Infrastructure, Main Tech Tyra Housenn, also, sat in on the meeting, as did her supervisor, Ellisante—All Hands On Deck, was another of the ancient aphorisms that was applicable.

The meeting, at that point, had been going on for about thirty minutes and scientists, engineers, and maintenance workers were still showing up—info devices on hand, as the late-comers pulled up a chair to the packed kiosk-tables, stationed close to each other…

“…twenty more years left,” Maintenance Garson Hanway retorted; his head swiveling around as he looked at the large group around the different kiosk-tables. “By your cerebral-message, I thought we were about to sputter to a halt in a few days!”

Agreements were voiced around the media-tables…Tyra quietly noticed that none of them were from any of the scientists.

“Maintenance Hanway,” Chemist Poul Ean replied in a bit condescending tone, “for a generational ship, we’re fortunate to have had this much time to figure out how to deal with our fuel supply…as much time it takes for the logistics of trying to find the closest planet or moon for us to park next to and orbit; then you have to think about sending out scouting missions to those planets; and, of course, all the while we have to keep feeding and facilitating almost three million residents while we do this!”

“Indeed, Maintenance Hanway, twenty years is not a lot of time to deal with our dwindling ship-fuel,” computerable physicist, Ellenain Eshe, put to the maintenance worker. She, then, turned her attention to the whole group at all the kiosk-tables—looking through projections of iconographic data that also depicted a diagram of the asteroid-encrusted ship at each table. (Ever since Tyra and her search team found that ancient signal, she had been more mindful how her generation communicated exclusively with pictographs. With the exception of math expressions.) “I’d like to hear from the Ship’s rotating crew…You all know more than anyone else of the history the last time the Ship had made port on a planet or moon…whether or not we’ve had energy surges…I guess what I’m asking is, Do we have enough energy from this nuclear thing for us to even look for a planet to dock with and utilize its natural resources?”

“—Great question!”

“—Stars, we’re in trouble if we even have to ask that!”

“—I heard a computerable report say something like a hundred years ago!”

“—Shouldn’t that be in our records?”

“Ok, let’s hear from the Ship’s crew,” Yeo, an engineer, suggested as she did a sweeping gesture with one of her hands.

The ancient ship’s main crew were scattered among the other people at the kiosk-tables, but it was evident who they were by the way they glanced at one another to see who’d speak among them, for them.

Billamont Harvester, one of the Ship’s rotating crew members, cleared his throat and, apprehensively, responded. “A few of us were discussing this while on the way here over our cerebral-comms…and you are actually on the point, Physicist Eshe, about the need to divert the Ship to an astronomic body in order to compensate our fuel-loss…”

“Why do I hear a, But, coming from you, Crew-Harvester,” Astrophysicist Cairo an Preun pointed out from across the headquarters’ conference hall. He kept his eyes on the shipmate while everyone else shifted in their respective seats to get a look at Billamont.

The shipmate’s eyes uneasily flitted to his crewmates scattered around those media-tables before he responded. “Look, you can’t expect a ship that started off with some thousands of residents thousands of years ago to ignore the issues related to that ship’s fuel supply…years ago, we Crewmembers did discuss—more speculation, really—what we might have to do should the Ship run into some near-fatal incident with one of those meteor storms. Back then, when I was a new recruit, some of the elders suggested that we scrap our long-held philosophy of drifting about in space in a big ship and just find a habitable planet or moon to settle onto…”

There was a stir that began among some within the large meeting. Crew-Harvester went on.

“Well, like I said, it was more idle speculation than a serious policy to look into…” He shrugged, in a defeatist way, main tech Tyra noticed. “And that was pretty much it, sisters and brothers…it was kind of a sore spot to discuss this—almost political! Sadly, some of the crewmembers back in my young days as a shipmate wanted nothing to do with migrating to a planet or moon. I don’t know…I guess one could’ve called them a kind of ‘purist’ movement within the Ship’s crewmembers. You know; what’s the point in constructing a generational ship just to dock it within a geo-centric orbit around, yet, another planet…?”

There were some tacit nods to that point, but the majority of the engineers, scientists, and even among the maintenance workers, were all looking upon Crew-Harvester with suspicious eyes! This was not lost on him.

“I guess the thrust of what I’m saying is, even though I, personally, was open to looking to settle onto a planet—and a few other crewmembers—the majority of the rotating crew were not! Between that mindset of the Ship’s crew and our updated actuator systems not configuring the older systems with the programming of the nuclear fuel with them…” Now Crew-Harvester, in earnest, looked around at everyone in the conference hall, seated at those kiosk-tables. “This is how we got into this mess, apparently!”

For the first time of the emergency meeting, there was a ruckus!

“I ask that all in attendance please be respectful and keep all interactions courteous,” the Ship’s synthetic voice sternly put; its audible booming above. No doubt, there was some psychology at play in such gesture!

“You realize we’ve passed two planets since you’ve been a recruit, Crew-Harvester,” maintenance tech Bennie Dotansk put to all the rotating shipmates as she looked around the gathering.

There was a chorus of consent, as the attendees tried measuring their responses after the warning from the Ship’s actuator!

“What’s the next planet the Ship will run across,” Geologist Fillip Natsome threw out to anyone.

“We’ve been in the periphery of the Canis Major Dwarf minor-galaxy for the past three years now,” the Ship’s actuator answered before any human scientists had a chance of even thinking on the subject! “During the era when the Ship was originally constructed, humans did not know a lot of details of the Virgo Supercluster, much less the planets within those galaxies…”

Just then, the Ship’s actuator changed the projected iconographics hovering above the center of each kiosk-table. The projection now featured a colorful rendering of the irregular galaxy the Ship had just crossed into a few years ago. Icono-telemetry floating about, depicting where the Ship was and the various galaxy in the astronomic cluster.

“Even now,” the audible continued as the computerable enlarged the Canis Major system’s graphics, “we still have not given proper names to these systems…but to answer your question, Geologist Natsome, there is one planet in the Ship’s current trajectory, and it has potential hospitable conditions for humans!”

There were gasps of hope among those attending the emergency meeting—some even tearing up.

“Mind you, it is nearly one year out from us at the Ship’s current velocity,” the audible actuator qualified, but this did not seem to dissuade the humans!

At that point, the colorful projection enlarged even further and depicted a relatively large planet with three small moons orbiting it. “We’ve utilized the Bayer nomenclature of deep-antiquities, but for this planet, and we’ve designated it as cMaj—named after the Canis Major system…conversely, the air is a bit thick for humans—oxygen levels is around twenty-five percent and since it’s a much bigger terrestrial planet than where humans originated from, the gravity and the atmosphere are a lot heavier than you would like—”

“I recommend we increase the speed of the terrestrial cylinder to match the gravity of cMaj,” Astrophysicist Keyton venBot blurted out; optimism on his countenance—also, he stood straight up from his chair while doing so! “That way our sisters and brothers of the Ship can acclimate to the planet!”

There were applauds upon Astrophysicist venBot’s suggestion!

“That is highly recommended, Astrophysicist venBot,” the stern actuator of the Ship commented. “I might also recommend we do the same to match the atmospheric makeup of cMaj…are there any objections from the humans attending this meeting?”

Everyone in the conference room looked around and just about every one of them shook their heads; having no objections. The way things were governed on the ancient generational ship was mostly communal. But de facto, the Ship’s actuator systems functioned as the leader of that human-communal organization of scientists, engineers, maintenance crew, and the various civilian and military agencies that ran the ancient society on a daily basis.

The generational Ship was not a democracy; nor was it an autocratic system. It simply seemed logical to the humans within that asteroid-sized ship to let the computerable system take the lead on, literally, steering the ship of humans that would prove too complicated for them!

“We’ll need to come up with a media campaign,” Mirandana Ellisante, Tyra’s boss, threw out to the group. She directed her attention to a group of professionals seated at a kiosk-table a bit further back…most of them were from the civilian agencies that dealt with human health-related subjects and societal issues. “It probably would be nice to have projected mediums and personal-public engagements about the upcoming changes to the cylindrical sector of the Ship—so the populace won’t be afraid and would have time to adjust.”

There were several affirmations from the group, the optimism from the meeting emanating from the civilian professionals as well.

“Do we really need to tell them,” Dambudzo, a well-known psychologist, curtly put to the meeting. There was an uncomfortable silence after her question, but she continued. “Trust me, sisters and brothers, in my field we have a long history of humanity acting as a river of consciousness that is not necessarily bad; but nor is it necessarily good! I wonder how an enclosed spaceship of two-and-a-half-million people will behave when they’ve learned we are low on fuel for the very thing that’s kept them and their civilization alive for an eon!”

Once again, there was a stir in the large meeting.

“Psychologist-Dambudzo,” this time it was main tech Tyra Housenn that decided to jump in, “are you suggesting that we wait until the Ship is closer to cMaj a little less than a year from now, or that we do not tell the populace at all?”

“I say we never tell them at all!” Again, a stirring among the large group of humans at the various kiosk-tables. The psychologist tried to clarify for them. “Remember some of the more recent political movements we’ve had with some in society…like the group that tried to convince all of the elderly in the populace to commit euthanasia so they could make more room for the younger citizens on the Ship! How many of our elderly had we lost to those avaricious idiots?”

“Hundreds,” main tech Housenn responded grimly; given that she was the one to question the psychologist.

Psychologist-Dambudzo gave a terse nod. “Indeed, Maintenance Technician Housenn, many speculate that some of those suicides were not suicides at all! And, now, we’re going to tell those very same people our planet-ship is about to run out of fuel in just two decades…”

The psychologist’s retort was poignant. Indeed, Tyra was able to see that she was the perfect fit for such profession!

“Psychologist-Dambudzo raises a very important issue,” the Ship’s actuator audible came back into the meeting. “Shall this gathering inform the greater-populace of the nuclear fuel issue or not?”

It was with this issue that the humans in charge of running the generational Ship truly found complicated! They all looked around their respective kiosk-tables; uncertain how they should respond!

“Perhaps the humans should vote on it—via the raising of hands?” the actuator asked.

The large group of humans, as if demonstrating that river of consciousness that Psychologist-Dambudzo had just addressed, automatically fell in line.

“All for informing the populace,” the Ship’s audible system stated—approximately one-third of the governing humans voted for it with upheld hands.

“All for not informing the populace…” This time, the two-thirds that did not vote with the first group all held up their hands.

A bit of mumbled conversations after the vote, but the actuator went on. “It is official, then…the attendees of this meeting must respect the vote of this governing body by its majority. I’ve recorded the vote—indeed, the whole proceedings—so it is incumbent on each member not to inform the greater population of this ship’s dwindling fuel.”

That included maintenance tech Tyra Housenn…whom, in fact, voted to inform the public…