Divergence

“I just need to sit here for a while,” said Judy. “I didn’t sleep too well. I heard the music. Why don’t you let me listen to you play?”

Maurice was already opening his instrument case and slotting the clarinet into its nest in the green baize inside.

“I’ve finished,” he said, making to close the case. Judy placed a hand on his elbow to stop him.

“What are they ?” she asked, pointing to the pieces of black pipe that also nestled in the baize. She ran a finger along the silver metal that formed loops over the surface of one of them. Maurice sounded almost embarrassed.

“Those?” he said. “They’re sections of another clarinet, an old one. They used to be carved from wood, not grown from plastic.” He touched the shiny black wood of one of the pieces. “The shape of them was not as efficient as the fractal forms they use nowadays. The fingering was different as well, not terribly logical.”

“Can you play it?”

“Oh, yes,” said Maurice, and he snapped the case shut with a click, firmly ending that line of conversation.

The three ships registered on the console were moving closer. Judy’s eyes looked yellow and dull; her black passive suit seemed shabby and frumpy. She gave a yawn and rubbed her hands through her hair, trying to wake herself up.

“It smells nice in here,” she said.

“It’s the apples,” said Maurice. “Judy, what is the matter? You look ill.”

Judy was drooping again. She sat up straighter.

“It’s this thing here,” she said, lethargically pointing to the back of her neck. “It’s making me feel things that aren’t real. Maurice, what do you know about the FE software?”

“Not much more than I’ve told you. Why?”

“It doesn’t feel right.” She rubbed her hands through her hair again, as if she had a headache. “What about Miss Rose? What’s she doing on this ship anyway?”

Maurice smiled. “Stealing things. Oh, and being rude to people.”

He looked back at his console. “You know, Judy, there are three FE-equipped ships within range of us at the moment, all transmitting protocols indicating they wish to trade. That’s unusual: up until now we’ve only encountered one such ship every few days or so.”

“It’ll be me,” said Judy. “I told you. Someone is arranging things so as to get me to Earth.”

“Chris?” said Maurice. “This oh-so-powerful AI that you mentioned?”

“He’s part of it,” said Judy. “But I think it runs much deeper than that.”

She shuddered and folded her hands in her lap. She looked over towards the apples, green and jolly in their crates. Maurice wondered if he should offer to fetch her one.

“Shall I…?” he began.

“Tell me about Miss Rose,” said Judy. “She wasn’t on Breizh, was she? How did she come to join you?”

Maurice was still fiddling with his console, peering intently at one of the ships indicated on the display.

“That ship there,” he said, pointing to an amber arrow, “the A Capella —I bet you it makes contact with us in the next few minutes.” He looked at Judy thoughtfully. “Miss Rose? She was on the, oh, I can’t remember its name, the Yellow River or something. They had too many passengers on board; too many minds. They were having problems with Dark Seeds. A Dark Plant had taken root somewhere in the ship, but they couldn’t find it.”

Judy shivered.

“Sorry,” he said.

“No, go on.”