Chapter 4
As Mr. Watson completed the checklist Floyd began to pace around the small space. When Mr. Watson announced the checklist was complete Floyd finally sat down and said, “It’s time for a beer or two.”
Mr. Watson agreed that a celebration of their success in getting the ship moved deserved acknowledgement, but also repeated his monolog on the health benefits of the citrus drink and lack of the beverage Floyd requested.
Floyd opened a container of the drink and downed it quickly saying, “Even this horse piss tastes better knowing the entire world is not dead.” Before Mr. Watson could repeat his discussion of equine urine Floyd asked, “Any idea where the signal came from that we received?”
“I have been using a few CPU cycles to determine the coordinates but the best I can do is a 123 mile radius centered about 47 miles east of our present position.”
Floyd responded, “At least we landed somewhere near where the survivors are. Suppose we’ll need to wait for more signals to triangulate their position. No way can the bike make that trip; they will have to come and get me.”
Mr. Watson was silent for a bit before responding, “Your assessment seems accurate. You have not discussed my interaction in this contact.”
Floyd had a puzzled look on his face as he realized that Mr. Watson’s voice seemed to be expressing an emotion. Floyd responded, “If they cannot or will not move the ship we’ll need to communicate with the radios. This will require setting up a relay mechanism.” He added, “We need one of those spy devises like in the movies where everything is relayed back to the guys sitting outside in the darkened van.”
“If you had not kept picking at your scalp electrodes we could have duplicated the concept. The signal has deteriorated to the point of being unreadable.”
Floyd was scratching his scalp and replied, “You mean I can pull these damn things out now?”
“No. Let me spend some CPU cycles searching for a way to enhance the signal.”
“While you play with your CPU I’m going to eat…just wish we had some real food.”
Mr. Watson objected saying, “The food is most certainly real. Is it the flavor or texture you object to?”
“Mostly, I object to eating out of a tube stuff that doesn’t look like or taste like food. I suppose it's the lack of smell of fresh food cooking that I miss the most.”
Floyd finished eating and then said, “Maybe our message should include the message we received back on Earth.”
“A logical suggestion; it is surprising how logical you can be at times.”
Floyd had to smile a bit at the reverse compliment and said, “That was almost funny. Read me the message we will be sending.”
The message started out reasonably well, but then seemed to morph into some sort of peace treaty. Floyd objected, but Mr. Watson explained, “I have been programmed to include the formal language at first contact. Do you wish otherwise?”
“That stuff would have been fine if we had arrived as planned and didn’t crash land on their planet. I think a simple explanation at this point is all we need.” Floyd added, “And ask them if they can set up a radio link so we can communicate real time.”
Their message went out as soon as the orbiting relay came back into position but their window of time was so short the only reply they received was, “Message acknowledged; stand by for reply.” Or at least that is how Floyd’s brain translated the message.
With nothing else to do Floyd decided to go outside and inspect the ship. They had stopped in between two of the foundations and sat pretty level. Some dents were visible in the bottom edges of the hull but it appeared intact except in the aft section where the hole was. A stress crack was extending upward from the puncture site. He took close-up photos of the area and told Mr. Watson, “Seems this ship was not made for bouncing over rocks. I think it was your driving that done it.”
Mr. Watson responded, “It is highly unlikely that the cause can be determined and your grammar is not proper.” Mr. Watson then went on a long explanation of the possible repair options. Floyd paid little attention as he began exploring the ruins. He found a few more metal tools and better appreciated the layout of the village but after a few hours returned to the ship not knowing much more than before. Time seemed to crawl by until the relay probe finally came back into range and the message came through.
It was a simple enough message, “We welcome our visitors from another world. A communication relay will be deployed to your location, but quarantine is required until medical clearance is given.”
Mr. Watson gave a quick reply while the relay probe was still in range acknowledging their receipt of the message. Floyd spoke up saying, “Why the quarantine? Do they think we’re carrying smallpox or something?”
The ever patient Mr. Watson explained, “Your example is probably pretty close to the reality. How can they know if some harmless bacteria you carry might not cause an equivalent epidemic among the survivors?”
As Mr. Watson continued his review of historical events in human history Floyd began tuning him out and finally interrupted him saying, “If I’m going to listen to your history lessons I need a beer.” Before Mr. Watson could repeat his mantra of the value of the citrus drink, Floyd pulled up the pictures of the tools he had found and began trying to figure out what they were. Some of the tools were pretty crude, while others were obviously well crafted despite the corrosion. He spoke up saying, “The size of the tools would seem to indicate a similar hand structure but a bit smaller than my hands. What do you think?”
“I do not have sufficient information to compute a definitive answer but your intuition may be correct. A review of my database would seem to indicate that an opposable thumb is required for tool usage and my calculations of the shovel implement would indicate a people somewhat smaller than yourself.”
Floyd’s time was spent planting the barley seeds in the flat ground next to the ship and in exploring the area on the electric bike. Not much was left other than the stone foundations and remnants of metal tools. As his circles of exploration widened to the maximum range of the bike, he came to another hill which was somewhat higher than the hill they had settled on. At the very top of the hill Floyd came onto a grizzly sight. Thousands of skeletons were amassed on the hilltop and they all appeared to be facing the same way. All Floyd could say was, “Holy Shit!” The video was not transmitting well and Mr. Watson demanded to know what was going on. Floyd tried to explain what he was seeing but did not have the words to describe it and the transmission was poor. He finally said, “I’m headed back.”
The winds had already picked up by the time he made it back to the ship and he was no sooner back in the ship when Mr. Watson’s questions resumed. Before answering Floyd said, “I really do need a beer now.” He put the photos he had taken on the monitor and began studying them. “Look at this. All of the skeletons are pointing the same way and they seem to be in concentric circles.”
The silence which ensued did not last long before Mr. Watson displayed a schematic of the gathering and announced, “My calculations indicate you are correct. Can you postulate a reason?"
Floyd chewed on his lip for a bit before replying, “Seems that it has a religious overtone somewhat like the Jonestown thing back on Earth.”
“You think they committed suicide?”
“Don’t know. I can imagine people who knew they were doomed getting together to watch the end. Maybe it was a communal celebration of the end of their world like the biblical stories.”
Floyd was asking Mr. Watson how they could send the photos to those who had returned their message, when they were interrupted by an incoming message, “Transport has been scheduled for the Commodore to arrive midmorning. The quarantine will need to be continued in a sealed apartment while in our sanctum.”
Mr. Watson generated an official response but Floyd said, “I suppose this means I’ll need to dress up.”
Mr. Watson began a long exp
lanation of the need for formal dress and ended it with, “…and maybe you should trim the growth on your face so that you appear as those on Earth do.”
“I guess a bit of cleaning up is in order. Have you finished your testing on the neuro transmitter thingamajig?”
Mr. Watson replied, “The unit is functional as long as you keep the transmitter within 10.37 feet and the relay unit they have provided is within 257.2 feet. You and I will be able to communicate verbally and if you would quit picking at your electrodes I will be able to analyze your brain waves.”
The reprimand caused Floyd to unconsciously reach up and scratch his scalp which in turn brought on another nagging complaint from Mr. Watson. Floyd changed the subject by asking, “How many people died on that hill?”
Mr. Watson was silent as he did his analysis and then responded, “1336 with an error margin of plus or minus 45 based on the number of intact femurs in your photographs.”
“Why did they give up and just die?”
Mr. Watson again repeated the effects of a direct hit from a large asteroid with the fires, acid rain and blackness of the sky which would have made life impossible. Floyd listened more attentively to the explanation and sat rubbing his chin and beard. He finally spoke up saying, “If I knew it was coming, I would have joined them on that hill.” He added, “I suspect the toxic gasses did them in because the bones were not scattered.” As he continued his examination of the photos he asked, “What are all of these small bones scattered with the skeletons?”
Mr. Watson replied, “My database is not complete enough for a definitive answer but there is an 87.65% probability that they are tail bones.”
“These people have tails?”
Mr. Watson replied, “I cannot say that, but the photo analysis would indicate the possibility.” The evening passed quickly as they discussed the implications of Floyd’s discovery with Mr. Watson expressing fairly philosophical reasoning.
When morning came Floyd spent time doing his best to spruce up and the anxiety continued to build. He felt like he was going to his first prom. The uniform provided no longer fit well, because of his increased muscle mass and younger physique. He kept complaining about this and that until the ever patient Mr. Watson spoke up saying, “Your brain wave patterns indicate severe stress. I can recommend medication to calm your system.”
“Thanks anyway, but I’ll be okay. I always get nervous before big events. Before every wrestling match or carrier launch I would get hyper like this but I always settled down as soon as I walked out onto the mat or buckled up in the plane.” The morning was half over when their detectors picked up a new signal. It was several minutes before the camera was able to visualize the target. A dune buggy type of vehicle with a clear bubble top was approaching without a driver. Floyd donned his spacesuit with some difficulty because of the bulk of his formal attire. The autonomous vehicle stopped about 20 yards from the ship and just waited there. Mr. Watson notified the survivors’ computer of the transport arrival and Floyd entered the airlock carrying just his small backpack. As he began walking towards the vehicle he said, “Wish me luck.”
“The concept of good luck is an interesting human invention which I would enjoy exploring further with you. I expect you to represent our mission favorably and am eager to learn more of this world.” As Floyd was climbing aboard the vehicle, Mr. Watson added, “Good luck.”
As they began to depart Floyd could not help waving to his electronic companion. He noted that the vehicle was headed east from their valley and into the mountains. The afternoon was wearing on and he had been traveling over snow for some time before the vehicle arrived at what looked like a shipping container. The door opened as the vehicle approached and closed as soon as it was inside. Background lighting provided adequate illumination but there was little to see…just a bare metal container. Before Floyd had time to become claustrophobic the container began to move. It was a slow acceleration and Floyd could not figure out the direction or speed it traveled. It was several more hours before the movement stopped. He could hear metallic sounds from outside of his iron prison but could not figure out what they meant.
The sounds changed and the door of the container began to open. A voice spoke through his headset saying, “Commodore, welcome to our Sanctuary. It is safe to remove your protective suit and exit the sterility container.”
Floyd did as he was told and did his best to fluff up the wrinkled dress blues he was wearing. He walked down the ramp and into an apartment space. There was no one to meet him, just a sterile white space with sparse furniture. The large room was connected to two smaller rooms which appeared to be bedrooms but the beds were a bit short for his frame. The bathroom had some sort of high tech shower and a funny looking stool which he needed to use. After he finally figured out how to flush the thing he wandered back into the large room. The container had disappeared but as Floyd looked around trying to find out what happened to it he noticed the folded panels on the ceiling. Somehow the container was reconfigured and became part of the room. They were taking no chances of any contamination of their space.
Floyd’s stomach was growling and he started to eat one of the energy bars of tasteless food substitute from his backpack. He felt, rather than heard, movement behind him and when he turned around found himself facing a large bulbous hazmat suit. He nodded acknowledgement of the presence and extended his hand. The bulbous hazmat suit did not respond to the gesture but said in a mechanical voice, “Commodore, we welcome you to the Sanctuary and apologize for the inconvenience of the quarantine. We are the sole survivors of our world and cannot risk any contamination.”
“I understand and accept the need for the quarantine. I have been sent from my world as an emissary in response to the distress signal we received from your planet.”
“That signal was unauthorized and futile. We welcome you and hope to learn more of this universe we share.” A long monologue of formalities followed which Floyd hoped Mr. Watson was listening to because he was not. The growling of his stomach indicated that food was of much greater importance than political formalities. He did take interest when the talk started to involve the risk he was taking from the infectious agents of their world.
He spoke up saying, “Mr. Watson, my computer, has made me check and double check the cultures of your bacteria. Interestingly, many are identical to those on my world and I think the risk is small.”
The voice from within the bulbous hazmat suit replied, “Our calculations would indicate you are correct. If you are confident of these finding I am authorized to remove the hazmat suit.”
“If you remove the suit won’t you be subject to the same quarantine as I am?
“I have been assigned this duty and will accompany you through the quarantine period. I can accomplish my duty either in the hazmat suit or in normal uniform.”
“I would much rather talk to the person behind the suit than to the Michelin man. I vote for removing the suit and seeing what happens.”
While his visitor was talking to her superiors, Floyd asked Mr. Watson, “Do you agree with my decision?”
Mr. Watson replied, “I am doubtful they comprehend your reference to a tire advertisement but your decision is logical.” He added, “It would be appropriate for you to be a bit more formal in your language usage and please avoid your colorful phrases.”
When everyone was in agreement, Floyd began undoing the fancy attachments on the rear of the visitor's suit. When he was finished, out stepped a very feminine creature who was a bit over 5 feet tall, with long golden hair. Her uniform accentuated her figure that would have made any model back on earth envious. She had gorgeous brown eyes which seemed a little large for her petite facial features. Only when she turned slightly did Floyd see she also had a long fluffy tail. She shook her head and tail to fluff up her hair and the furry end of her tail before turning to face Floyd.
All Floyd could say was, “You’re beautiful!??
?
She replied in a voice free of the mechanical nature, “It is as the designers meant it to be.”
Floyd could detect no change in her voice but the fluffy tail seemed more active. The growling of Floyd’s stomach interrupted the exchange and she asked, “What is that sound?”
Floyd shrugged his shoulders and said, “My stomach is complaining…seems it has been awhile since I ate.”
“You do not have a chip to monitor your nutritional status?
“Nope, no chips, just the biological response to hunger.”
“How do you know what nutrients you need?”
Floyd needed to think a bit about the question before responding. “I crave certain food groups at times, which is probably my body telling me I need more of that type of food. Normally I just eat what is served and my body adjusts to the diet.”
"We will need specific information in order to provide you with proper nutrition."
Floyd spoke into his communication device asking Mr. Watson to forward the nutritional information they were requesting. He replied to the young woman, "What I would really like is a nice steak with potatoes covered in gravy served with a couple of beers."
She was confused and the more Floyd tried to explain the more confused she seemed. She finally replied, "All fermented beverages were banned from the Sanctuary at the time of our selection, and unprocessed foods such as you have requested are not available because they are inefficient sources of nutrients."
"No beer? That sucks." Before he could go on he detected Mr. Watson in his mind telling him to behave. This caused him to subconsciously pick at the electrodes in his scalp. He changed the subject by asking, "How do you raise your food?"
She began explaining how efficient their recycling program was and how the constant temperature and strict control of lighting has allowed for high productivity of their crops. As the simple explanation grew into a formal dissertation, Floyd's concentration waned. He interrupted her asking, "I would like to know your name."
There was no change in her facial appearance but her tail became more rigid as if she was on guard. She asked, "Why is this important?"
Floyd shrugged his shoulders and with a twinkle in his eye responded, "It would be much more pleasant to call you by name than saying 'Hey, you.'"
She was staring at his face but did not understand what the smile indicated. Her tail relaxed some as she said, "My name is Lina 74 of the librarians’ guild."
"Lina is a very nice name but why the number?"
Her tail twitched nervously as she explained, "I am the 74th in the line of clones from the ancestor from which I am descended."
A buzzer began to sound before Floyd could ask any more questions. He looked up at Lena who explained, "Your nutrients are ready." She showed him how to position his hand over the front of the cabinet which caused the doors to open and a shelf to slide out which held two small bowls filled with something that looked like day old oatmeal. She motioned that Floyd should sit in front of the shelf, which he did. He picked up the only utensil which appeared to be a cross between a spoon and a fork. He looked up at Lina with an inquiring look on his face but she did not understand. He sat holding the utensil until she finally said, "It is best to eat while the nutrients are warm."
The food in the first bowl tasted a bit like oatmeal with just a hint of a meat flavor and some sweetness. The second bowl seemed to be some sort of combination of greens and a tangy fruit. When he was finished Floyd said, "A satisfying meal, but I would have enjoyed the steak."
Lina asked, "What is this steak you are referencing."
Floyd did his best to explain and after a few minutes of discussion she said, "It would be as our historical pastoralists’ custom of using biologic organisms to convert the inedible grasses to a protein source." She added, "This and many other customs were lost when we moved into the Sanctuary. The pastoralists refused to leave their animals and hence none were included in the Sanctuary."
Floyd asked, "How did they choose who was selected for the Sanctuary?"
Lina spoke into her communication device before replying, "Only those with the proper genetic makeup and social standards were accepted."
Floyd could not suppress the yawn that was forming and after satisfying the desire to yawn said, "I would like to continue the conversation but it seems some sleep is in order."
Lina asked, "Is your bed adequate?"
"A tad short, but it should do for now."
Lina apologized saying, "We tried to estimate your height but were obviously not very successful. I will see if the Fixers can remedy the situation."
Floyd wanted to ask who or what the Fixers were but was just too tired. He stripped down to his underwear and climbed into the small bed. It seemed to be warmed from below and he had no blankets but the heat relaxed him and sleep came quickly. His dreams were of the catastrophe on the hilltop combined with images of people begging to be allowed into the Sanctuary. Despite the dreams he rested well and awakened to some soft music playing in the background. He dressed in his trousers and shirt, foregoing the rest of his uniform. When he opened the door he found Lina sitting at the table area eating. He asked, "May I join you for breakfast?"
She corrected him saying, "You may join me for the breaking of the fast." She asked, "Did you rest well?"
"Yup, had strange dreams, but rested well." As he waited for his food to appear he said, "I’ll need to impose on your people for more clothes. I’m afraid these are already getting a bit ripe."
Lina's tail twitched but her face revealed no response. She said, "I expect the Fixers can fashion some new clothes for you. We would not want you to get too ripe."
When the food arrived it was the same two dishes and tasted the same. Floyd asked, "Any chance I could get a cup of coffee?"
Her response of, "What is this coffee?" was followed by a long discussion which seemed to be going nowhere until Mr. Watson began transferring the chemical makeup of coffee. Lina checked her computer sources and said, "We have no such natural compound but if you wish we can begin the process of chemical reproduction."
Floyd said, "If it is not too difficult, I would appreciate it. Coffee is one of the things I treasure from my home planet." He added, "I especially enjoy the smell of freshly roasted coffee."
"What effect does it have, this coffee?"
Floyd sat back and had a small smile as he replied, "It helps me wake up in the morning and in general invigorates my mind, as well as other bodily functions."
"Stimulants and other psychotropic drugs are not allowed in the Sanctuary."
The puzzled expression on Floyd's face went unrecognized and after a moment of silence he responded, "On my world it is considered a food item with generally positive health benefits. It is true that one component is a mild stimulant which is made by the bean to deter pests."
Lina's communicator became active and she listened intently. Her tail would at times flare up and occasionally droop down. She ended the conversation and turned to Floyd saying, "The Council has agreed to attempt reproducing the substance called coffee but will limit the consumption to you. The chemists say it is a complex mixture of organic compounds, several of which do not exist on our world and will need to be formulated." She added, "The President would like a video conference with you in fifteen minutes."
"Sounds like I had better get dressed and appear official. Not my strong point but I’ll do my best."
Lina said, "It is very rare for the President to be seen even on video presentation and a private conference is not even recorded in my data files.
"So who is this President guy?"
"The President is the founder of the Sanctuary."
"I thought the Sanctuary was about 400 years old. How can he be the founder?"
Lina tried to explain saying, "Those of the Council, including the President, have long life spans and their memories are more fully transferred at the time of their recycling. Their clones
thus become themselves."
Their conversation came to a halt when the computer screen started to display the official colors of the Sanctuary. Lina left the large room returning to her bedroom and closed the door, leaving Floyd alone with the computer.
A short period of music was followed by the appearance of an old man dressed in a simple robe. He looked up into the camera and his eyes showed he still had some youth within. He spoke with a voice that at the same time seemed ancient and young. His black fluffy tail twitched energetically. He welcomed Floyd saying, "We of the Sanctuary welcome you, Commodore, to our home and world. I would that our welcome could be more personal but my scientists are insistent on the quarantine." Before Floyd could interject his acceptance of the quarantine the President went on, "Our world has suffered greatly as you have seen and it appears that we are all that is left of our people. The survival of the few that remain is our only hope to continue as a species. I would hear your story and of your journey."
Floyd could sense Mr. Watson telling him to use the official language. Floyd ignored Mr. Watson's input and replied, "My computer, Mr. Watson, has the official protocol information which he has already transmitted and I will not repeat. My story is fairly simple, I was asked to take this mission knowing it was with great risk and a mission of no return. My illness and life situation were such that it seemed reasonable, so I accepted the risk."
"And your journey?"
"Of the journey I can report little for I was placed in hibernation before the launch and I awoke shortly before our arrival to your world. I have calculated the time of transit and it was over fifty years. With relativity, the time on my world is probably double this. Our arrival was marred by a mathematical error which placed us in an unstable orbit with little time to prepare a formal request to land on your world." He added, "My apologies for the crash landing and the uninvited intrusion."
"Your apology is accepted. I expect there is much more to your story and I look forward to learning more of a civilization that can explore the stars. For now, you will need to excuse me for other duties call. We will do all we can to meet your needs as long as they do not endanger the Sanctuary."
When the computer screen went blank, Floyd picked up his transmitter and asked, "Well, Mr. Watson, how did I do?"
Mr. Watson replied, "Despite your casual language you seemed to have accomplished the primary goal of establishing a peaceful relationship with the people of this world. I do wish you would quit picking at your electrodes."
Their conversation was interrupted when Floyd heard Lina's door open. Her tail was still held low in a submissive attitude and she checked the monitor to make sure the conference was over. She asked, "How did your meeting with the President go?"
"It went well enough and he seemed a nice enough old man."
"The President is not old. You must show respect for him."
The puzzled look on Floyd's face did not register with Lina. He asked, "What is different about the way he looks?" Before Lina could answer he said, "His tail was black but you have a golden tail and the photos you have shown me show only golden or brown tails."
Lina responded with a droop in her tail saying, "Only those of the Council have black tails."
Floyd interjected before she could continue, "Like the old book says…some are more equal than others."
Lina almost demanded to know what Floyd was talking about. Floyd explained it was a book about farm animals that he had read as a boy. Their conversation was interrupted by another request for a conference with the chair of the medical guild. Most of the questions were about the type of diseases present on Earth and their treatment. A simple question on longevity proved to be the most difficult for Floyd to explain. The People just did not understand the concept of aging and the process of dying.
Lina explained, "In the Sanctuary we have no diseases for they were excluded with the quarantine imposed on all who entered. Degenerative disease is not an issue, for when we begin to deteriorate our minds are scanned and then the bodies recycled. The new clone is instilled with the knowledge they need to function in their designated position and life continues, always in our prime."
"Seems this would lead to stasis of society."
Lina responded, "Our survival is dependent upon stability. Everything has been calculated to insure the survival of my species." Further discussion was prevented by yet another conference with one of the Council members. This Council woman was in charge of the social order committee and took her job very seriously. Her tail was held straight up and was almost rigid with none of the twitching Floyd had noticed in the other Council members. Her questions were asked in a rapid fire style with no time for any explanations. When Floyd tried to explain the social aspects of democracy she became angry and began shouting at him. He took the abuse for a while and then replied in English, "Fuck you!" He could sense Mr. Watson trying to calm him down and telling him to avoid his "colorful language" but he didn't like this Council member. She was demanding to know the meaning of the words Floyd had used but he just smiled and asked if she had any other questions. He could see her looking down at her paperwork and the rapid fire questions resumed. Many of the questions had to do with social unrest and control of the population. By the time the interview was over Floyd was drained and his only comment to Mr. Watson was, "I could use a couple of beers about now."
Mr. Watson started his monolog about the unavailability of Floyd's beverage of choice and the prohibition of fermented beverages in the Sanctuary. Lina came out of her bedroom and spared Floyd having to listen to most of the monolog. Her face remained calm but her tail was drooped. She asked, "How did the conference go?" Floyd was honest saying, "We didn’t get along."
"I heard yelling."
"I may have lost my temper. Who was that lady?"
"She is the daughter of the President and the most feared of the Council members."
Floyd could not help but notice the drooping of Lina's tail became even more pronounced as she spoke. He asked, "Why is she feared?"
Lina's tail curled downward between her legs and her voice was subdued as she explained, "She is the one who determines the suitability of your genome to the survival of the Sanctuary. If you are found unsuitable and the genetic error cannot be repaired, your genome is removed and your gene line no longer exists."
"So you go from being immortal to nonexistent in one fell swoop."
Lina did not respond but her tail seemed to droop even further. Floyd changed the subject by saying, "Time for some food."
Lina watched him eat a whole day of nutrients at one sitting and said little. Floyd had no sooner finished eating when the computer screen became active and a request was made for an interview with a scientist whose specialty was evolution of bacteria. Floyd and the scientist had an interesting discussion of the similar evolution of bacteria and what that meant for their common ancestry. This was followed by other interviews with the different Council members until Floyd was exhausted just from answering their questions. He finally spoke up saying, “I need a rest. Can we hold off until tomorrow for any more interviews?”
Lina spoke into her communicator and after a slight pause replied, “Of course, we do not mean to tire you but there is so much to learn.”
Floyd relaxed by starting his exercise program. Lina watched without saying anything as he did his pushups and sit-ups. The running in place and shadow boxing efforts seemed to upset her and her tail was twitching in a funny way. Floyd asked, “Does my exercising bother you?”
She replied, “It seems strange to waste the energy doing nothing but it also makes you smell different. The smell is stimulating but I cannot say why.”
Floyd responded, as he headed into the bathroom, “And that is what a nice shower is for.” When Floyd returned to the living area he was surprised to see another being in the room that was assembling what appeared to be a bed of adequate length. He tried to talk to the being who had th
e appearance of a human cartoon character. It was shorter and stockier than Lina with some brown fur, a head that seemed big for the small body and no tail. It was wearing worker’s overalls with many pockets and simple footwear. There was no response from the being.
Lina explained, “The Fixer has arrived and is completing the assembly of your new bed. They do not talk; they just fix things.”
“Does he or she have a name?”
Lina’s tail was waving in a pattern that Floyd recognized as a laughing response as she replied, “They do not have names and they are neither he nor she, just Fixers.” She went on to explain, “They are all identical clones and are responsible for the repair and maintenance of the Sanctuary. The computer communicates with them somehow and they fix whatever the problem is.”
“You mean if you need a light bulb changed or have a leaking faucet these guys are sent over to fix it?”
Lina’s tail seemed to be nodding in the affirmative as she replied, “They fix everything.”
Floyd was silent for a minute before asking, “If the Fixers do all the work, what do The People do that is productive?”
“The residents of the Sanctuary all have positions and responsibilities. Most are attending school or working on their art projects. Those of us in the guilds have our areas of responsibilities.” She added, “The greatest contributions we can make are in the arts for this is where the intellect is most challenged.”
“Who did the building of the Sanctuary?”
“The Fixers did the building and assembled the machinery that was needed according to the designs of the Council.”
Floyd’s stomach was growling and he interrupted the conversation by heading to the food machine. He noticed that the Fixer had been watching their conversation but turned back to its work on the bed as soon as Floyd looked at it. Lina just watched as Floyd wolfed down his food allotment and remained quiet until Floyd was done. She asked, “Does everyone on your world consume so many nutrients?”
Floyd shrugged his shoulders and said, “Some more, some less. Why do you ask?”
“Here in the Sanctuary we all live in balance and it would seem that the expenditure of energy you do with your exercises would mean that many fewer People could be kept active.”
Floyd shrugged his shoulders again saying, “It is who I am. I do not want to be a burden on those of the Sanctuary but cannot change who I am.” He glanced at the Fixer who was obviously listening to the conversation but again turned away as soon as Floyd looked at him. Floyd asked, “Are they not afraid the Fixer will carry my germs back into the Sanctuary?”
Lina’s tail was active as she explained, “The Fixer will stay with us through the quarantine and then be recycled.”
The surprised look on Floyd’s face went unanswered by Lina but the Fixer seemed to notice it. Floyd said, “Well, if the Fixer is going to stay with us I think we should name it.”
“Why would you name a Fixer?”
Floyd tried to explain how he always named his airplanes and how it made them seem to be less foreign and more of an extension of himself. Lina seemed unable to grasp the concept, but Mr. Watson spoke up saying, “It is a human custom to name things. They seem to be able to fix the identity into their minds only if they can apply a name to it. I would recommend that you allow the Commodore to name the Fixer.”
Lina spoke into her communicator and received a reply almost instantly that it would be okay for Floyd to name the Fixer. Floyd spoke up saying, “How about we name it, Tesla, after the inventor.”
Mr. Watson spoke up saying, “It would be an appropriate name and does not imply a specific sexuality. Mr. Tesla was not only a great thinker but built many of his inventions himself so the concept of the name is valid.”
Floyd turned to the Fixer and pointed at him saying “Tesla” he then pointed to himself and said, “Floyd.” There appeared to be recognition of the concept but when Floyd pointed to Lina and said her name, Tesla turned away as if it were unable to understand. Floyd let the dichotomy lie and started doodling on a piece of paper. The doodle began to evolve into a sketch of the hilltop with all of the skeletons. He was not an artist but drawing something that kept intruding on his sleep always seemed to help control the dreams. Lina watched but said nothing. When he was done he turned the paper over and wrote, “The End Times.”
Lina finally asked him what the drawing was and he told her about the hilltop and all of the skeletons facing the same way. She spoke into her communicator and after a long minute replied, “My data bank would indicate that the group you came upon was called the ‘Divine Enders.’ They had a belief in an end-of-times prophesy going back thousands of years. It finally came.” She then explained how many of the groups refused to apply for entry into the Sanctuary because of their various beliefs.
Floyd asked how many people were in the Sanctuary and Lina replied, “The number varies with the needs of the Sanctuary but around 5,000.” She added, “The genetic bank contains the DNA of another 35,000 who are alternates.”
Floyd asked, “What was the population of your world before the catastrophe?”
Lina checked with her communicator before replying, “Our world was composed of just over 1 billion people at the time of the ending.”
Floyd was silent and absently folded the paper drawing into a paper airplane which he launched across the small room. Tesla went over and picked the airplane up ever so gently and handed it back to Floyd. He accepted the airplane back and without thinking launched it again. Tesla again retrieved it and almost bowed as he handed it back to Floyd. Turning to Lina, Floyd asked, “Tesla sure seems intrigued by my paper airplane.”
Lina’s tail twitched in a circular motion as she replied, “Fixers are always trying to figure things out. It would be best if you did not over stimulate it.”
Floyd said, “Time for some sleep.” As he headed to the bedroom he handed the paper airplane to Tesla who just stared at the gift.