Mind Over Ship

“LUISA SAYS THEY’RE all failing,” Mando said. “Some of them already ‘died’ and are discarded. They’re pulling others off-line.”

That was a surprise. Mary had made the whole Leena problem seem like an act, a means of increasing ratings. Of course, she hadn’t said much of anything about anything lately except about the futility of trying to accomplish anything real in one’s life.

“What about Luisa, herself?” Fred said, unsure how to approach his fear. “Is she acting — strange?”

Mando took his time replying. He sipped beer from his bulb and drummed his fingers on the table. “No. I mean yes. She’s doing nothing strange, but she is depressed. That’s not strange; people are depressed sometimes. And you know our evangelines. For them life is more novela than fiesta, but they don’t stay depressed for long. At first I thought it was because I am here, but she only grows worse. And she says these crazy things.”

This was what Fred was waiting for. “What kind of crazy things?”

“Yesterday she says she is glad there are no more children in the world because children are the biggest lie of all.”

Fred let the statement roll around in his head. He could easily hear it coming from Mary. “What does it mean?”

Mando shrugged his shoulders.

FOR EACH OF the familiar russ sites, such as the Wall of Honor or List of Lists, there seemed to be a more ribald alternative — Russes Behaving Badly or The Secret Lists. What Fred saw on them was, frankly, shocking: vurt feelies of russ-on-hink action, and even — inconceivably — russes torturing helpless prisoners! This was a whole other side to his germline. Even if they were only fantasies, they were as perverse as those of the retrokid prostitutes.

The scholarly journals were there: Russ Neurobiology and Russology. But unfamiliar ones, too, including the New Russ Review. It was in the NRR that Fred came across his first scholarly examination of the russ’s “Original Flaw.”

The idea that the russ germline had an original flaw was something Fred first came across way back in Russ School. It was a hammer that the older brothers wielded to keep the younger boys in line. There were many locker- room theories as to what it might have been, everything from a propensity to wet the bed to the disgusting practice of cramming things up one’s nose. Marcus had refuted all such theories and punished the boys who promoted them.

The NRR article made a case that Thomas A. Russ’s actual flaw had been obsessive/compulsive disorder, but that it had been identified and treated in utero. According to the article, Thomas A.’s fascination with list keeping was a vestigial echo of the full-blown disorder. His unstinting sense of loyalty to his clients was another, but a useful one that made his clones so commercially invaluable.

Because the DNA Privacy Act was still in effect in 2010 when Thomas A. was born, his parents were able to seal the records of his retrosomal gene patch. Not even his clones had the power to unseal them, and thus the article’s thesis was pure speculation.

Fred usually lay on his stateroom couch as he browsed the russ metaverse because twice he had grown faint from the immensity of his discoveries. And once he became so wrapped up in his exploration he had been late for duty muster. Another demerit, but well worth it.

The Original Flaw became something of an obsession for him, a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy. He felt the need to understand it before he could hope to understand clone fatigue. Yet, for all the thousands of references to it, he could not uncover a clear, definitive explanation of what it entailed. It seemed that everyone had a theory, but no one had the facts.

MANDO SAID, “I asked about emergency family leave.”

It came as no surprise; Fred had been thinking about doing the same. Maybe it was time to go down and handle the situation in person. “When do you leave?”

“I’m not leaving, at least not soon. Earth Girl says there are eight hundred russes already on the waiting list. Every brother with an evangeline spouse wants to go home. So, I have to wait my turn for a ship.”

“How long?”

“No sooner than six months, she says. Maybe not till my tour is up anyway.”

This was bad news for both of them. “What will you do?”

“I try to buy someone’s ticket on the Barter Board. If you have a ticket you go to the front of the line.”

After returning to his stateroom, Fred also put his name on the waiting list. And he instructed his sidekick to watch the Barter Board for ticket offers.

FROM THE DISTANT perspective of the docking spars, the Oships under construction in the Aria space yards had the appearance of frosted donuts surrounded by angry hornets. But now that he had actually crossed into the yards aboard a shuttle, he could make out the individual components. The donut frosting was the hull plating that giant builderbeitors were laying down on the habitation drum frames. The hornets were shuttles, tenders, and debris scuppers, as well as the chains of shipping shells that were hurtling toward capture fields. What looked like chaos from afar was actually Earth Girl’s highly choreographed traffic control.

The ESV Garden Hybris, Fred’s destination, was one of the Lucky Five. Its construction was complete, and the only craft visiting it were tenders and shuttles. When Fred’s shuttle docked at a hoop frame portal between two ponderous, revolving hab drums, his shuttle’s VIP passenger, a Myr Seetharaman Singh, thanked him for his service. But Fred informed him that his assignment was to accompany the mentars all the way to the vault.

“Splendid!” Singh said. “Then I will show you the ship.” The portly man was very animated and had taken a shine to Fred during the short trip over. He had even introduced Fred to the four mentars in his shipping shell who would accompany the Hybris to the Gliese 581 system, the so- called Ymir Star. The mentars were less gracious than the man and had barely acknowledged Fred.

“I would appreciate that, Myr Singh,” Fred said. “This is my first time aboard one of these Oships.”

“In that case, it will be the grand tour!”

TWO DONALDS STEERED the shell from the docking portal, up a dozen levels, to one of the paste vaults where a reception by crew and plankholders awaited them. Singh palmed the shell open, revealing the four paste canisters. They were placed side by side on a sticky table, and the ship’s captain officially welcomed them and Singh. Then he swore in the mentar that had been designated the ship’s first Decadal Mentar, a post overlapping the captain’s own term of office. Finally, the donalds installed the canisters in their individual cubbies inside the paste vault.

The cubbies were, in effect, mini-vaults within the larger vault. Each was shielded against cosmic rays, fire, and other hazards. They were linked to the ship via thick optical cables and required the palms of two people — the Decadal Captain and civilian President — to unlock.

Fred inspected each mentar canister’s seating in its cubby and its cable connections before shutting and locking it in.

THE MAJORITY OF Hybris passengers would spend most of the millennial voyage in biostasis in the stasis crypts. Therefore, it was necessary to maintain only two of the thirty-two tandem pairs of habitation drums in a quickened state. Singh showed Fred one of these called Nightlight. The hab drum wasn’t as grand or imposing as Fred had expected. It did have Earth Standard gravity that was much smoother than the rez wheels, but missing were the futuristic cities with broad boulevards, sports arenas, and public squares that were hyped up in the promotional vids. Instead, Fred found a loose collection of one- and two-story bungalows amid green and purple soybimi fields. Only one of the three core suns was ignited, leaving the distant end of the drum in darkness.

“Don’t let that fool you,” Singh said. “Every 250 years we will hold a General Awakening in which sleepers will be encouraged to quicken and stay up for ten or twenty years. During that time we will have great cities, music,