The Darkness Outside Us

by Eliot Schrefer

His olive skin is smooth and unmarred, except where thick stubble shades his jawline. Even his stubble looks like it could take me in a fight.

A couple words in particular won’t quit my mind: Princelet. Dates. The contempt in Kodiak’s voice when he said each one. In Fédération, we pride ourselves on having moved far beyond the prejudices of the past. I nearly got a skinprint between my pecs saying Labels are the Root of Violence. But it’s like the Dimokratíans are still living in the twenty-first century. Backward, bigoted, homophobic, transphobic. Idiots.

space innovation moved from state-sponsored to private ventures, and the trend continued into the present era, when suborbital quinceañeras have become a thing. Once corporations got involved, there was moon travel, weekend sightseeing orbits, and space station vacations. Cusk has been leading the astrotech industry for generations. I’ve always been well aware we were rich, that we were among the few people who could afford high land, that our wealth let me grow up in a walled compound safe from the massive migrations of the starving, from the plagues and superstorms, from droughts and floods and epidemics and radioactive winds.

She pointed out the ruins of abandoned cities, the debris-clogged seashore that was once high land. “Maybe we could have stopped this, maybe we could have held on to the species we’ve lost, maybe we could have prevented the polycarb seas. But it doesn’t matter now.”

Not sure I can be comfortable with this all-too-plausible future right now. Especially since one more backward step has been taken in our selfish devolution. Since reality is going to suck harder and harder regardless of my wistful dreaming that a majority of humans actually have any care for their fellows, I prefer my fantasy reading to be less centered on how the Elon Musks of the world are going to survive by further trashing the planet so they can escape it unscathed.

At the thought of my endless debugging list I find myself on my back, staring at the ceiling. I feel like I can do nothing that will help Minerva, and “learned helplessness” is most biologists’ definition of depression.

A memory comes of my mom and me at a garden table on the Cusk mountaintop estate, the roaring sandstorms that were obliterating refugee camps in the distance reduced to a mere hush. I’d just been playing the Mendelssohn concerto, and Mom had come out to listen.

Nero fiddling while Rome burns? "Let them eat cake."? Liechentracher zum wache? Also, the name "Cusk" bears an uncomfortable resemblance to "Musk", as in The Donald's good buddy Elon.

science fiction epics humans have written about artificial intelligence run amok,” OS says, “and what they all get wrong is that I do not have the urge to dominate. That urge is ingrained in humans by millions of years of primate social group competition, but I do not have that evolutionary history. I have no reason to want to dominate you.

“If I experience two mutually exclusive commands, I will simply tell you so and let you choose what I should do, rather than act on either one of them.” My leg is shaking. Adrenaline. But this isn’t the sort of fight where adrenaline’s useful. “Unless telling me so is forbidden. Don’t forget that you were coded by competitive primates.”

Kodiak closes the door in Aurora Rover’s face. “We get it. You don’t want us sharing information.” I beckon Kodiak to kneel next to me. I’m pretty sure there’s no masking anything we say from OS, no matter how quietly we whisper. The ship uses audio to keep track of our pulse—there’s no hiding any words. But here I go, trying anyway. “I’m going to create a blind room,” I say. “No Rover tracks, no microphones or cameras. Then we can continue this conversation. Once I do that, we’ll figure out the truth of what’s going on here. Until then, it’s safest that we perform the part of good little spacefarers.”

"Open the pod bay door, HAL."

I’m your host, Ibu Putu. Remember, our intelligence might be low, but at least it’s not artificial.”

Back in World Civ class we learned this term, schismogenesis,

The gist is this: when two parties are in direct interaction and have complementary reactions to each other, those reactions will heighten until they rupture.

It works for people, too. If Person A turns submissive when Person B gets bullying, and B’s response is to get even more bullying as a result, that will cause increased submissiveness from A, then increased bullying from B, resulting in increased submissiveness again, until eventually you have a fatal level of aggression from B. Normally it doesn’t get that far, because no one exists within a vacuum. Person C interrupts A and B. Cold wars can be best stopped by the wild card of a third country, or an external crisis. On this spaceship, there is no third spacefarer. Especially if we’re now disregarding the communications from a hostile OS. We are quite literally within a vacuum.

Or that our solar system might be an atom in a much larger solar system.

I wonder, does everybody have this thought at some point? It doesn't seem all that outlandish to me as a possibility, and didn't seem so fifty-plus years ago when it entered my stoned teenage brain...

Maybe my heart can be a more insightful organ than my brain. Your heart is only good for pumping your blood, says my brain. I am the source of both what you feel and what you think.

Insanity used to be a stranger that lived on the other side of the world. Now it’s moved next door. It’s only a matter of time until it becomes shipmate, lover, self.

Kodiak’s against the airlock, turning the handle. OS speaks, but I can’t make out its words in the roaring bright. The handle turns and turns forever under Kodiak’s sure hands. “We’re going to pass this test,” Kodiak says. “Stop,” I gasp. But he doesn’t stop. Kodiak looks back to me. “Sunlight, Ambrose! Think of all the sunlight!” The airlock door shudders as he gives it a final turn. Kodiak throws his arm over his eyes, as if to protect his vision from the brightness to come. The airlock opens, and the universe roars. The thunder on the other side is not full of light. It is only dark, and so cold.

So far, this makes just about as much sense as the Aliens series (that is, none)---but without the fun special-effects monsters. Ditto 2001: Space Odyssey. It Is a decent speculation on the effects all this nonsense might have on the human psyche, I guess. Just, so far, as either romance or science fiction it's not winning me. As suspense it's pretty great, but I prefer a tiny bit more plausibility, and definitely more romance in my romance.

was thinking this morning that this aleyet we’re looking at, I guess ‘view’ is the closest word in Fédération, if we truly groya it, I guess ‘understand’ is the closest to that—” He starts to chew his lip, clearly frustrated at Fédération vocabulary. It suddenly strikes me as unfair that we speak Fédération all the time. That’s just the language the Cusk

Corporation always uses. What other unfairnesses might I not have considered until now?

“This understanding of our view takes some of the sting out of our situation. Plenty of organisms live for a season, in order for those who come next to have a chance. Mayflies, daffodils, the octopus. We can accept that?” “Well, we’re hardwired not to accept our own demise. Daffodils are a lot more chill about it.” “Okay, but we can be like daffodils together.”

“Actually,” I say, “I guess it was my first time. Officially. But it wasn’t Ambrose’s.” He pulls me in closer. “We have lots of time to practice.” I think for a second. “Wait, did you mean my first time at all, or my first time welcoming?” “Welcoming? What does that mean?” “What we just did. You donated, and I welcomed.” Kodiak snorts, and makes a hand gesture I don’t recognize, bent shaking fingers. “Oh, Fédération softy lingo.” I roll my eyes. “Do you still use hut and shihut, top and bottom?” “Of course. It makes more sense.” “Unless the shihut is literally on top.” “So sensitive.” “It’s a hierarchy, Kodiak. Top and bottom are not value-neutral terms. One implies more worth, which is all about homophobia.

And homophobia is really all about misogyny, because in Dimokratía eyes to welcome is to be female, and to be female is to be lesser. Words matter.”

Kodiak makes two quick steps toward Rover. It’s instantly in motion, whipping its arms forward. . . . which is when I toss the EMP bomb.

Hey, I could take that role! My kids tell me I must give off EMPs whenever I get near an electronic device. Har. Can't say I disagree; computers, cell phones, tablets, all love to wonk out in ways nobody else experiences.

“Do not do this! You are jeopardizing the only future for humankind.” Kodiak holds the polycarb blade to his clone’s neck. “This is murder!” comes OS’s drowned cry. “History will judge you harshly.” “Go judge yourself,” Kodiak mutters as he drags the blade across the clone’s throat.

We found out that we have around twelve thousand years of travel to go before we arrive at the exoplanet. We’d better get moisturizing if we want to look good when we arrive.

LOL

This planet is a soft yellow-green color, rocky, all its surfaces covered in a heath of algae. It’s a little like how the early Earth might have looked. The sun and the wind and the cold are the only enemies, and without predators and prey, life has no need to move around, to have eyes and teeth. It can be . . . soft.

I stand alongside him, arm draped across his shoulders. He’s a stranger, a lover, and my life partner. We have lived and died lifetimes together, and it makes me shiver every time that odd truth comes over me.

The sky is a violent crush of greens and pinks and purples, Minerva’s distant second sun jagging it all with reds and oranges. “It’s so beautiful,” I whisper. Kodiak presses against me, arms wrapping around my torso as he pulls me in tight. “Don’t get me wrong. I love being here with you. I am in awe of what we’re doing together. It’s terrifying and wonderful, all at the same time. But it’s ours. Not theirs. Ours.” I nod, grateful for the warmth of Kodiak’s body against my back, his arms holding me so near. Grateful for the simplicity of what he’s just said. We never watch the rest of the recordings.