Next You Interstellar, LLC

Pavel Arican Stevens, PAS, was just waking up from what he thought was anesthesia. He couldn’t remember where he had just been. The images clearing around him were of machines that made sounds, indicating they were monitoring him. Several minutes passed, and a woman dressed as a nurse came into view.

Nurse PAS croaked, his throat feeling like an Arizona road in August. She heard him making sounds and approached with a tube of liquid. Nurse, he said after drinking something, why am I here, and where is here?

Dr. Reynolds, the patient is awake. Can we release him for reconstruction?

No we need to wait for Dr. Abrams to check on him and sign the release.

Hello, I asked a question…What about my needs?

Mr. Stevens, Dr. Reynolds said, I’m sorry, but our contract forbids us to speak with you other than addressing your physical needs. Dr. Abrams is the only one with the authority to address your questions, and he should be here in about an hour. Is there anything else I can do for you?

Okay, my physical needs? Why can’t I feel anything below my neck or move my arms?

Is there any pain?

No...

Then the answers will have to wait for Dr. Abrams. I apologize, but I can’t afford to lose this job.

Everyone left the room except of course for me. What is going on? I can’t even raise my head to look at my body. And what is that smell? Kind of like burnt meat. All I can remember is kissing my wife as we said goodbye in the corridor on my way to the suit lockout for work.

I wonder where Angelique is and when I’ll see her. This Dr. Abrams character had better have some answers, and what is it with the secrecy non-disclosure bull shit here? What the hell is wrong with the questions, ‘WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME AND WHY AM I HERE?’ On that note something whirred above me, like a fuse blowing, and I blacked out.

I woke to the clattering of metal on tile. It sounded like a shod horse was dancing around in my room. As I opened my eyes, I could see the top of a balding head just barely clearing the edge of the table on which I laid. The movement was in rhythm to the clattering I was hearing. I was content to let the movement continue without interruption, until the being decided to address me. Mr. Stevens, I am Dr. Abrams. I believe you had some questions for me to answer. If you will bear with me a minute, we can begin our conversation.

The lights dimmed and a bottle with a tube moistened my mouth. I hadn’t realized the last time I was awake, I hadn’t been able to swallow and my voice had sounded artificial or synthesized. Dr. Abrams head appeared, at least I think it was his head. The balding part was familiar, though I didn’t think he would look like a cyborg. The right side of his face was normal across the line of his nose, which transitioned into a black metal mask with sensor-like instruments protruding and articulating. Where I would expect to see an eye, a deep blue fluorescing gem pulsed with light.

Where would you like to begin Mr. Stevens? came from Dr. Abrams, though I hadn’t seen his mouth move.

I think we should start by you calling me PAS. I really hate the sound of Mr. Stevens. Why am I here?

Well PAS, at least you start with really big questions. You’re here because you had a really nasty accident. A maneuvering thruster you were repairing on the habitat where you lived ruptured and compromised your suit. The suit activated preservation protocols, sealing off the sections exposed to space, and cooling the rest to stasis temperatures. The loss of atmosphere from your suit thrust you away from the habitat, and the suit beacon did not activate because of the thruster damage. You wouldn’t be here at all if a prospecting scout hadn’t almost smeared you on her viewer while transiting the sector where your habitat used to exist.

Dr. Abrams stopped speaking, though I still can’t recall seeing him move his mouth. He apparently was giving me some time to process this. I must have lost most of my body to the protocols. The habitat used to exist? What happened to it?

The Kuiper habitat was destroyed 15 years ago by Gaian terrorists using sabotage, bombs, and a mass driver. Your body death occurred 20 years ago, during another terrorist incident of which nobody ever claimed ownership. How are you feeling?

You’re telling me I’ve been dead for 20 years. I have no home left. I feel that I should ask to see your credentials and to request not being left alone with you, for you are obviously FUCKING INSANE! Whirring noise, blown fuse sound, and the lights go out…awesome.

And I’m back again. Where has that little turd gone? I hear the sound of a goat with metal hoofs approaching. Ah, there he is, and I need answers. Before I can speak he holds up his hand, which looks kind of strange, but I get the message. Calmly he says, PAS, I need you to remain calm in our interactions because your consciousness is being supported by a neural net avatar with very light cutout fuses to keep us from losing you. It is very time consuming and self defeating to have to keep rebuilding it, so please cooperate.

Sorry, but if you would play back our conversation in your head, you might discover some needed adjustments to your bedside manner. Really, I’m dead?

Only body death. We’ve resurrected your consciousness to get information and to give you another chance at existence. Shall we continue with the questions?

Oh let’s do. What happened to my wife?

She was injured in the same accident which killed you. She suffered a traumatic brain injury and the loss of her left arm and leg. She has been reconstructed and no longer associates with humans.

Does she remember me?

She does, which is why she is on her way here. She will be here in four days.

Where is here?

This is a research and reconstruction hospital on the planet Cassius. It is a rogue planet, 1.5 times earth’s size, midway between Sol and the Alpha Centauri system. There is no sun here. The planet is kept thawed by internal plate tectonics which occur because this is a Lagrange point between the two systems.

You reconstruct people?

Beings, we reconstruct sentient beings which have met with unfortunately shortened life spans for one reason or another. The research part is more varied, including propulsion, energy alternatives, and weapons. These are sometimes incorporated into our reconstructions.

Who pays for this operation? And not that I’m not grateful, but what do you want with me?

We are a government contracted corporation called Next You. The corporation runs at a profit by reconstructing beings who agree to the process and the accompanying contract of service. As a bonus, once the contract is over, the being has the option of becoming a full citizen of any planet or colony within the four allied systems. You are obviously a sentient being, and we may be making you an offer based on your responses to tomorrow’s questioning.

Why not ask the questions now?

I am not allowed legally. You see, there are questions that the Kuiper belt authorities want answered before voting to approve any additional effort on you.

What do they want? I thought that the habitat was destroyed.

It was, but there are fourteen more mining colonies in the Kuiper belt now, and two Dyson recreation worlds with full citizenship rights. They have a constitution which contains an article maintaining that they will not contribute to the reconstruction of known terrorists, murderers, rapists, and other malcontents as appropriate in light of current culture or morals. Quite open ended don’t you think?

When I…died, we had no way of getting to another solar system in acceptable timeframes. What has happened to change that situation? Even though I’m interested in the answer, my head (or whatever this is) is now spinning with the realization that I may be on trial tomorrow. It might be good to start asking more questions regarding what is known about the accident in order to prepare for tomorrow’s…interview or interrogation.

Two years after your body death, a propulsion engineer named Vascaro, who worked for Yamagato Industries, made a breakthrough in field manipulations by observing pulsar behavior. Placing a very strong magnetic field around a ship, and not in the gravity well of a large body, enabled him to collapse fields in front and expand them to the rear. Pulsing the fields and traveling with a slow ion drive push allowed him to accelerate faster than in normal space, making it economical to approach the speed of light in human timeframes. Another scientist, a physicist named Fredericks, discovered hyperspace; which pretty much ignores Einstein. The combination of the two technologies has opened up the galaxy to human and some allied alien exploitation. As a clarification, a vascaran drive ship traveling in hyperspace can make the trip from earth to the Alpha Centauri in approximately six days.

What can you tell me about the accident?

Legally nothing more than I have before your interview. Then again, I really don’t like the Kuiper authorities and they can do nothing to me. What do you want to know?

I’m a little nervous about my future depending on tomorrow’s interview. Was it an accident or has something been claimed?

Your wife was scanned prior to reconstruction, and the results regarding her last memories of you were intriguing to say the least. She seems to think that you were struggling with someone or something just prior to the maneuvering thruster mishap. Scanning was new at that time and some mistakes were made, resulting in your wife’s decision to no longer associate with humans. The resulting detonation depressurized three decks of the habitat, effectively wiping out the ruling body and the pre-school. There were four hundred dead in total.

So they think I’m a terrorist?

They don’t know what to think, and I’m inclined to leave them that way. Do you want my help to get past the interview?

Why would you do that? Did we know each other?

Well I already told you how I view the Kuipers, or creepers as I prefer to call them; and you know this is a for profit corporation, which means I get two bonuses if you get reconstructed. If you go forward with the process, I will be with you every step until you begin your contract. It keeps me out of trouble.

Well it beats being stuck this way. Yes, I want your help, please.

Very well then, my help will consist of erasing a block of your memory with a slight current fluctuation, and I will need you to be out so that I can be precise. Anything else?

Nope. Let’s do it. Lights out again…at least no blown fuses?

Back to the Top.

Chapter2: Brother Calabrini, the Inquisitor.

There is nothing like opening one’s eyes into a nightmare. There is a two meter tall being boring holes through me with his…hers…it’s eyes. It is dressed in a purple sequined robe, and wears something between a yarmulke and a miter of bright orange. If I could see the floor, I would be expecting clown shoes with turned up spikes. It appears to be wearing makeup that has been applied with a concrete trowel.

Are you fully aware Mr. Stevens? the thing screeched.

"Yes, can you use your inside voice please?

Surely, it said in a deep bass. That was when I realized its lips were not moving. Wow stands for freakier.

I am called Brother Calabrini or BC, and as I have adjusted my output to your liking, I would appreciate a likewise effort on your part to bury your opinions of my appearance since they are most unkind. Dr. Abrams says that you prefer to be called PAS. Is this correct?

I had the feeling it wasn’t trying to be friendly, just confirming information. Yes, PAS will do.

Excellent, I am male by the way. Your response will serve as a baseline.

Are you a lie detector? I really need to get control of my responses.

I am a stress and subversion detector. You need to get past me to be reconstructed.

I’m really creeped out by this conversation with a mannequin, and no lip movement at all.

I will point out PAS that at this moment you possess no lips of your own. You are speaking using the avatar synthesizer.

Well that was something I hadn’t thought about.

Good, let us begin.

I am a member of a brotherhood of investigation specialists, and I am under contract to the Kuiper authorities to conduct this interview because they are the only dissenters in your reconstruction. They want to know if you caused that accident fifteen years ago.

I left the airlock and maneuvered to the thruster pack. En route I caught my foot on an object I hadn’t seen due to it being thin to the point of invisibility. The impact sent me into an out of control spiral, followed by a blinding noiseless explosion and blackness.

I was… BCs hand rose to stop me.

I have the picture. Goodbye, and good luck with your reconstruction PAS.

Whatever this existence is, I was left awake or turned on literally and for the first time since my death. That’s weird. I find myself alone with my thoughts. What is reconstruction. Maybe I should have asked that question first? I wonder who, if anybody, Angelique associates with now that she shuns humans. I wonder if she still wants me, or is just returning to pay her last respects or divorce. I guess I still have the ability to make one decision, yes or no. Will I ever have a sense of time again? Hello, is anyone about? I could use some help here.

A couple of moments later the same doctor I had originally woken up to came into view. Can you help me please?

That really depends on what it is you require. What’s the problem?

Here’s the deal. If you guys aren’t going to interact with me until this reconstruction process gets underway, could you just switch me off during the lull times? This crap of being unable to move and alone with my thoughts right now really sucks.

I can do you one better. Dr. Abrams has approved the reconstruction preparation, which includes a neural net training on meditation.

A neural net what?

The training is a contribution from a reconstructed yoga master who used it to keep her sanity during the down times. The program is the first step in reconstruction these days, and you’re scheduled to receive it now that you’ve been approved by BC.

Your lips move when you talk. Are you a reconstruct?

No, I’m a space-born human trying to earn my citizenship for Luna.

Yes, please proceed with the neural net thingy. I appear to need some help organizing myself. I didn’t black out this time, but found myself in a bright room with a springy floor and bamboo paneled walls. The walls had big, open, glassless windows; and there was a beach outside with five to six foot waves rhythmically crashing into the shoreline. There were two mats in the center of the room, and a woman who looked to be in her twenties appeared.

I became very conscious of my appearance all of a sudden, and began examining my body. I had form and I was standing on my feet. My hands were tanned and calloused. I felt a light growth of beard on my face. The woman cleared her throat to get my attention and pointed to the ceiling. Looking up I discovered that the entire ceiling was a mirror, and that I looked how I remembered I looked when I was eighteen, fresh out of mandatory exchange school.

I am Rebecca. I was a yoga instructor on Kuiper Dyson two before my…accident. My avatar is here to help you gain skills that will assist in your reconstruction, physically and mentally. Please sit on the mat with me and we will begin with the centering routines.

I sat down thinking I might consider spending the rest of my existence in this room. She’s HOT! Would you want me to change my appearance to help you focus? she said with a mischievous smile.

No, please don’t. Will everyone I encounter from here on be able to read minds? The lack of mental privacy is really beginning to wear on me.

No, but many will have that ability, and part of our training will allow you to shield things that would be awkward to reveal. A lit candle appeared between us that had not been there before, which reminded me that this was a virtual room. This shouldn’t be a surprise to me as I seem to now be living a virtual life.

Observe the point of the flame, relax your eyes, and allow them to follow the flicker of the point of the flame. Allow the rhythm of the surf to infuse your body, and imagine you are floating with it. Do not relax to the point of sleep, as we have much to accomplish. Do you feel more settled?

I feel great.

Think of a picture of a box. The box has large sides, and the material is duryllium, safe from all known radiation. This box has a door which only you can control. When you have thoughts that would offend others or compromise you, you can place them in the box for later examination and they will be guarded from others because you are in control. Repeat after me ‘Safe for me’.

Safe for me.

This is your mantra-code for control of the box. For the moment, be still and contemplate the box. It is yours. Moments passed, measured by 16 wave crashes, which I didn’t know I was counting. How strange. Inhale and visualize your belly button approaching your spine, exhale. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Are you ready to proceed?

Yes please. We continued practicing, apparently for weeks. We took meals, slept-non sexually, and bathed together. This continued until one day I opened my eyes and saw Dr. Abrams staring down at me.

Have I mastered yoga and meditation?

We will see, you were only in neural programming mode for two minutes. Usually reconstructs are on this task for twelve hours. How did it go?

Fine I think. It seemed like weeks passed in there. So that was a virtual environment built specifically for me to practice in?

It was what your consciousness needed for the training task to be completed. Shall we begin making reconstruction choices? We need to decide what the next you will be.

I was quietly processing what I wanted to be when I realized I still didn’t know what I was. What is there to start with? What’s left of me? Can I see?

Do you think you could control your emotions if I just describe this verbally? Or do you want to risk blowing another fuse by having a visual image?

Well, I guess if that programming really worked, maybe we could test it with this; so why don’t you show me in a mirror. It should go faster.

Yes, well, mirrors are forbidden in the reconstruction hospital, but I will shoot you a visual from my augment camera. Let me know when you’re ready.

Go ahead. Before I finished the last word, I had a picture of a plastic bowl with wires and hoses attached, that had a camera lens staring directly at me. There was an orifice below the lens that must be where the vocal synthesis emitted. So that’s me. Not much to look at. No organic left except maybe what is in the bowl or helmet, whatever…

So what is the first augment, a ladle? Safe for me, safe for me…

Dr. Abrams just looked at me. I guess he was waiting for the fuse to blow or his augments didn’t include much in the way of humor. Then he began trembling, leading to a large enough belly laugh that caused him to fall to the floor in spasms, with all four feet kicking expensive electronic and medical things.

Really, you think that was funny?

When he could speak again he said, You really need to experience it with the image.

We were both quiet for a few moments before I spoke. What are my options?

I can grant you access to the species library. You could browse it for an hour or so. We could base decisions on the environments that you prefer. We could look to see what’s in demand right now for reconstructs.

Is my wife non-human?

Legally she’s no longer your wife, but no she is not human. She had a very unique selection of augments, enabling her to breathe water or air, and swim at up to ten kph. Would you like a visual?

No longer my wife. I guess death did us part. Sure.

This image of a two meter tall Amazonian goddess appeared, who was beautifully tanned, with green eyes and green hair. I thought she was wearing a wetsuit, but I saw nipples and realized she had scales and a tail. At least she still had breasts, and another female human fun part. Why had she chosen this? And should I allow this to influence my choices, since we were no longer married?

What is my widow’s status? Is she still under contract?

She finished her contract as a mercenary scout two years ago and is currently a citizen of Myrmidon, a world of 96 percent water. The four percent land is a megopolis and spaceport on terraformed volcanic plate. She is not currently in a monogamist relationship.

Do you know why she picked her augments?

She said she loved swimming and water, hated space, and wanted to get her contract completed in the minimal amount of time. At the time of her reconstruction, there was a civil war on the planet Rios; which true to its name, has a lot of rivers. The food guild had a vested interest in getting the planet back into production, so they contracted for 300 augmented marines to take out the hawkish elements on each side. When hostilities ended, there were forty marines remaining. Some had been depth-charged, and others eaten by larger biologics. Your widow was exceptional, with the highest number of exterminations. The forty survivors accepted citizenship on Myrmidon and coexist with the native sentient amphibians.

Are her augments available?

I don’t know, BC may have a say in that.

What the fuck? Safe for me…. What does he still need with me? I thought I passed his screening.

He fulfilled his primary contract as far as the Creepers were concerned, and now his secondary contract is with the intersystem reconstruction authority in negotiating contracts. Basically he is the broker that supplies what the authority wants. Let’s hope those wants align with your desires. Do you desire to be augmented as your widow?

"I don’t know. Can I have an hour to look at the species library, and also the