There is one aspect of our life which some of us do not agree with, and that is the allocation of mating partners and the production of the next generation.
Our numbers are strictly controlled, and that is reasonable, or the ship would not be able to sustain our needs, but the choosing of partners is something we would like to do ourselves. When this was queried with Teacher, we were informed that only the Medic could make an accurate selection of mates to ensure the correct mixing of genes.
While I can see the sense of this, there are a few dissenters in this generation who, for some reason unknown to me, cannot understand this need, and have gone to great lengths to try to override the system. So far, they have been unsuccessful due to the clever way in which the system has been set up.
Although some couples have tried to mate of their own choosing and conceive children thereby, they have been unable to produce any offspring. Only couples selected by the Medic can conceive, and then only when instructed to do so. The chosen couple are requested to visit the Medic’s room where something takes place, but we do not know what it is or how it is done, and then a child is born to them after the appropriate time.
The sex of the child is predetermined in some way to suit the needs of the project, and this sometimes causes dissent among those who want a child of the other sex. Fortunately, there seems to be nothing they can do to outwit the will of the ‘ship’, as they see it. The other matter of concern to some of us, but not me, is the way in which the bodies of those who die are disposed of.
They are taken to a little room where the last farewells are said, and then the body which has been placed on a table like structure disappears into a hole in the wall, to be broken down and its materials recycled somehow.
A small quasi religious body, luckily with few members, object to the recycling system, and are in constant argument with Teacher about it, but to no avail. I do not understand their reasoning, and I suspect there is none that will stand up to close scrutiny.
It is said that it takes all sorts to make a world, and that rule seems to apply here on our little world!
Yesterday there was a commotion in one of the hydroponics chambers, but I only heard about it. A team of three were gathering fruit when it was discovered that one tree had produced several fruits which were twice the size we were used to, and they had a somewhat distorted shape.
When this was commented on the Captain must have overheard it, and ordered the fruit and the tree to be destroyed, or I should say recycled.
One of the team objected, saying that he thought it was a good idea to keep the extra large fruit and even breed new trees from it. This did not go down well with the Captain, who then reinstated his earlier orders and threatened to destroy the whole chamber of trees if they did not comply at once.
When I heard about it I asked Teacher why the Captain had acted this way, and Teacher said it was important to keep every growing thing pure in a genetic sense, as no one knew what effect a mutated life form would have on us if we consumed it. It makes sense to me, but I wonder why the Captain did not explain it at the time.
I have often thought it strange that we still use the old Earth time, hours, days, weeks and years, when we have the chance to make a new and more rational time marking system.
Teacher said it was to give us a feeling of continuity with the past, I suppose it’s right.
We are kept busy most of the time, doing things which I sometimes suspect are not really necessary. There is a machine shop where those who have been taught the necessary skills are called upon to manufacture spare parts for the ship, but I sometimes wonder if this is only a means of keeping us occupied, as I am sure the ship could make anything it requires.
We still have a seven day week, Sunday being the only day when we are not called upon to do something, unless there is an emergency.
Everyone is expected to go to the Sunning room on this day, and bathe ourselves in its light. Anyone who misses more than two sessions is soon detected by the Medic, who then instructs that person to take a light bath, and checks that he does!
I sometimes go to the observation room, where a view of the star field around us can be seen. It is a wonderful sight, and changes slightly each time I visit. We do not have any star maps, so it is not possible to work out where we are, but the ship knows, or so we are informed.
It will be many generations into the future before we reach our destination, something I shall never see, as the distance to the nearest sun with a possible habitable planet is so vast.
I would very much like to visit the power plant which drives the ship, but every time I try to engage Teacher on the subject, it is evasive and says that I do not need to know about it, or that it is a dangerous area.
The latest riposte to my more subtle enquiries on the subject elected a response which surprised me somewhat, being: ‘You have asked this question in one form or another several times, and the answer remains the same, you are not allowed in that area.’
I began to wonder if Teacher was human after all!’
Glyn read on, each page revealing a little more about the attitudes of the ship’s members at that time towards the project and their hopes and aspirations for the future.
Realizing that he had spent a little more time in the book room than he had intended, he carefully noted the page number he had reached and replaced the diary on the end of the top shelf where he had found it, resolving to return at the next possible opportunity.
Returning to his cabin, he found Mia in a state of great excitement.
‘Arki has worked it out that we are the most likely couple to be allowed to have a child, now that Bolin has gone, what do you think of that?’
‘I’m delighted of course, but it seems a pity that we had to lose Bolin in order for this to happen.’
‘But we would have to lose somebody before I could conceive, so what does it matter?’
‘Looked at like that, I don’t suppose it does matter, it was just the way we lost him that hurts.’
Glyn decided to let the matter drop, as in his opinion, Mia’s view of things always seemed a little superficial to him, and it wasn’t worth the trouble to try and explain how he felt.
He changed the subject by trying to interest Mia in his discovery in the book room, but she showed little more than polite interest, so the conversation died as it usually did on matters other than the more mundane happenings on board the ship.
Mia wouldn’t have been his natural choice for a mate, but as they had been allotted to each other on the basis of the correct mixing of genes with regard to their offspring, he accepted the inevitable, but he would have preferred someone with a little more spark and curiosity. Apart from that one fault, as he saw it, she was the perfect companion, and always ready to support and comfort him when needed.
It was time for their evening meal break, and Glyn and Mia joined the others as they gathered in the eating room, chatting lightly among themselves, although the topic of Bolin’s misfortune was noticeably absent.
The food appeared as always, the usual comments accompanying each dish as it slid through the hatchway, but somehow the sting had gone out of the ribald remarks reserved for the culinary delights of the mechanical chef. Bolin’s demise was having a far greater effect than was apparent on the surface of things.
By the time the fruit and berry stage of the meal had been reached, the conversation had dwindled to the occasional acknowledgement as the fruit bowl was passed around and the odd muttered curse as someone bit into the stone at the heart of the fruit they were eating, their attention not being fully on what they were doing. Bolin was going to be missed by many for some time to come.
The usual soft ‘ping’ heralding an announcement from the Captain took everyone’s attention, and all turned towards the screen above the hatchway where the spoken words would also be displayed for all to read. There was little chance of a verbal being misinterpreted that way.
‘After the meal break, Glyn and Mia will go to the Medic’s room. It has been decided that the time is right for you to have a child. I offer my congratulations and good wishes for the happy event which is to follow.’
A light round of applause followed the announcement, and all turned towards the lucky couple, smiling and nodding their heads in agreement.
Glyn, always keen to acquire extra data, saw a chance to get a little more information out of the Captain and said,
‘I thought the Medic had fallen from his highly exalted perch and was only offering random wisdom these days, so is it safe for us to put ourselves into his somewhat befuddled hands?’
‘It is quite safe. The Medic’s verbal and screen abilities have malfunctioned but the equipment is operating correctly. You have nothing to fear.’
‘Can we not repair the Medic? its help is often needed.’
‘It is beyond the capabilities of those present to achieve this. I have taken over the duties of the Medic and will issue medical instructions when required.’
‘Can you not repair the Medic? Or could we not do so under your instruction?’
‘That is not possible, I am sorry.’
‘What will happen to us if your circuits break down?’ Glyn was taking a chance with such a barbed question, but he was into his stride now and cared little for the consequences of such an impertinent query.
The ensuing silence was almost deafening, and everyone glanced to and fro from Glyn to the screen, hardly believing what they had just heard.
The softest of clicks indicated that the Captain wasn’t going to answer that one, and had disconnected himself from the audio system and further verbal assault.
‘You implied that the Captain was just another machine.’
Brendon looked as if the myth of Christmas was just about to be exploded.
‘You think he isn’t?’ asked Glyn suppressing a grin, he was enjoying this and felt like pushing it to its limits.
‘The Captain is the Captain, and I think we should leave it at that for now. It doesn’t matter who or what he is, as long as he keeps functioning. We all have our own beliefs on the subject, and as long as we are happy with them what does it matter?’ Arki had stopped the debate before it could get out of hand, and no doubt saved a few present from having their illusions shattered.
‘Come on you two, it’s off to the Medic’s room for you, and good luck.’ he added with a grin.
As they left the eating room and began their journey to the Medic’s room, Mia took Glyn’s hand and skipped along besides him like a teenager on her first date, totally oblivious to the parry and thrust of the debate they had just left.
The Medic’s room would have been a frightening place for anyone not used to seeing the array of equipment lining the walls, and the fact that there wasn’t a human in sight to operate them, but the couple were used to the place and accepted it as quite normal.
A screen lit up as they entered and instructed Glyn to sit in the examination seat, which he did without hesitation, having done so many times before.
A soft whirring of hidden machinery and a melodious chorus of electronic sounds as the circuits did their thing accompanied the examination, and, he suspected, the fertility treatment, whatever that was.
Moments later it was Mia’s turn, and she eagerly jumped into the chair, positively beaming at the thought of her motherhood which would soon become a reality.
The equipment went through its paces, taking a little longer than it had with Glyn, or so he thought, and then it signalled that it had completed its work.
She got up from the chair and stood beside Glyn, both of them wondering if there was anything else which had to be done to enable them to produce the promised child, when a gentle ‘ping’ announced that someone or something was about to make an announcement.
‘Go forth and multiply.’ The sonorous tones of the Captain were unmistakable, and they chorused, ‘thank you.’ in unison.
Glyn grinned to himself as he realized the possible double meaning to the Captain’s statement, recalling an old English expression which was now frowned upon, and a slight doubt began to grow in his mind as to whether the Captain was human after all.
After leaving the Medic’s room, Mia held Glyn’s arm, bouncing along like a child with the promise of a new toy.
‘Is that all there is to it? Can we have our child now?’
‘Yes,’ replied Glyn, ‘apart from the obvious biological function, and that shouldn’t be too much of a chore.’
‘Oh great.’ she giggled, almost dragging him off balance as they headed for their cabin.
‘Should have asked what sex the child would be.’ Glyn said to himself, but then realized the Medic would probably have said ‘Take two tablets twice a day,’ or the like.
M
ia was taking no chances now that the golden opportunity of producing a child had been granted to her, and the ritual of planting the seed, so to speak, was indulged in many more times than was strictly necessary, just to make sure.
After a while, Mia considered that enough was enough, and spent more and more time with the other females, thus leaving Glyn many free hours to himself, after the day’s allotted tasks had been completed.
He was becoming more convinced than ever that most of the jobs set for them were purely time fillers, something to prevent them getting too bored and therefore possibly too inquisitive about certain things to do with the ship.
The book room naturally took up most of that spare time, and he began a systematic search along the shelves for something to help him disperse the nightmares, when he suddenly realized they were no longer occurring.
He sat down in the chair and laughed until copious tears coursed down his cheeks and his eyes began to sting. Glyn had to retire to the outer chamber in order to remove the breathing helmet and dry his face before returning to the book room, with the odd chuckle still bubbling up every now and again.