1
Reanimation
Ember Steele tried to sit up, only to find that up didn’t exist. Her stomach lurched, and she attempted to throw her hands out to grab something—anything—but her cocoon held her arms firmly at her sides. She strained against the foamy material of her cocoon until her hands broke free. Her fingers found a solid object, and she grabbed it to stop her fall, but the falling sensation persisted. Her cocoon still covered her face, as it had for at least a minute, so she released the solid object, dug her fingers into the foam, and ripped it open to expose her mouth, her nose, her eyes. Sucking in air, she twisted her body and saw what she had let go of. It was the edge of her HopeWell chamber. Her stasis pod. She was floating above the pod, or beneath it, or beside it—she couldn’t tell.
“It’ll help if you take a deep breath and try to relax,” a voice said.
Ember craned her neck to see who had spoken. A man was floating there, holding on to a handrail attached to a white, curved wall, his feet hanging in the air, almost blocking her view of his face. He was watching her. Her stomach lurched again, threatening to force out the strawberry and quinoa salad she’d eaten a half hour ago. At least it seemed like a half hour. She swallowed. “Where am I?”
“Killer question,” he replied. “We might ought to wait until the others reanimate too.” He nodded beyond her.
Ember turned to follow his gaze. She was inside a cylindrical chamber, perhaps twenty meters long and six meters wide. Everything was white or silver. Numerous rectangular and circular hatches of various sizes, all closed, were arranged along the cylinder’s curved wall as well as its flat ends. Five more HopeWell chambers were situated end-to-end, in line with her own. Besides hers, only one chamber was open.
She turned back to the man. “What’s going on? Why are we floating like this?”
He shook his head slightly, and Ember realized his face was glistening with sweat, like he had recently been sick. He let go of the grip with one hand and pointed. “In the wall of your pod—a handy-dandy upchuck canister, just in case you need it. I needed mine.” His eyes flitted to the side, to a liter-sized silver canister slowly tumbling end over end in mid-air. Besides Ember and the man, it was the only object floating loose in the room. Fortunately, its cap was closed.
“I don’t think I’m going to throw up, not yet anyway,” Ember said. “Why isn’t there any gravity?”
“Another killer question. My advice, if you care to hear it—enjoy the next few minutes. Enjoy not knowing.”
Ember still felt like she was falling, but apparently this sensation wasn’t going to end any time soon, so she awkwardly struggled all the way out of her cocoon, yanking and kicking it over her legs and feet. Still in one piece, the empty cocoon gently floated beside her, like a thick, fleshy bodysuit suspended in oil.
“You might want to tuck that into your pod,” the man said. “It’s kind of creepy to look at.”
Noting his empty cocoon was wedged into the corner of the other open HopeWell chamber, she did the same with hers while holding on with one hand.
Ember pushed off from the side of her chamber and, in a less-than-graceful manner, drifted across the cylinder, intending to grab one of the handrails near the man. However, her body started spinning, and her feet hit the wall instead. Pulling her knees to her chin, she managed to grab one of the grips to keep from rebounding in the opposite direction. She straightened herself out, but now her body was arranged in the opposite direction of the man’s, which made her feel like one of them was upside down.
“What do you mean, not knowing?” she asked, her face now only a meter from his. “Are we in space? How can we be in space?”
“Did you hear the part about my advice?”
“Two minutes ago I was being inactivated. At HopeWell’s Stasis Center. On the ground!”
He closed his eyes, as if trying to suppress his nausea. “It only seems like two minutes ago. Trust me, it’s… longer than that.”
An avalanche of possibilities tumbled through Ember’s mind. She was dreaming, some kind of odd side effect of inactivation no one had warned her about. She was dead, and this was some kind of cruel test of her character before being allowed an afterlife. She was inside a container accidentally dropped out of a jet at high altitude and still hadn’t hit the ground. Or, she was in space, which was the only feasible explanation. “This doesn’t make any sense. Why are we in space?”
The man’ s eyes were still closed, and he didn’t reply.
“Where is everyone? Where are all the HopeWell technicians?”
He spoke with his eyes shut. “They’re long gone. Under the sod, if you know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t know what the hell you mean! Why in God’s name are we in space?” Ember choked on the last few words. Great, now she was going to cry, which certainly wouldn’t help matters.
He opened his eyes and gazed at her. “I’m sorry. I know part of the story, but I swear I don’t know why we’re in space. I reanimated no more than ten minutes before you. I think we’re going to find out more soon, after the others get their wiggle on.” Again he nodded toward the four chambers that were still closed.
“How do you know we’ll find out more?”
He glanced around at the walls of the cylinder. “This is some kind of spaceship. It has a computer—an AI—that seems pretty smart, although maybe a little weird. It talked to me for a few minutes, after I tossed my cookies and before you reanimated. It’s a she, I guess. Sounded like a member of the gentler sex. Said she’d tell us more after we’re all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.”
“A spaceship,” Ember stated. She didn’t know what else to say. She stared at him, feeling utterly lost. The man was dirty, with streaks and smudges on his face and neck, some of which looked like dried blood. His long-sleeve t-shirt and blue jeans were soiled and torn. He wore running shoes that might have been green at one point. His stringy brown hair flounced about in the zero gravity, revealing a receding hairline. Honestly, he looked like a homeless man who had just been run over, albeit one who used phrases like the gentler sex.
“Name’s Seven,” he said.
“Seven?”
“Like the number. Last name’s Dyson. You don’t know it yet, but you and me—we’re an endangered species.”
She stared at him, feeling even more lost than before. She closed her eyes to subdue a wave of nausea. When she opened them, Seven was gazing at one of the HopeWell pods.
“Damn, would you look at that,” he said. “Can’t even tell if it’s a he or she.”
One of the other chambers had popped open, and a writhing, cocooned figure was floating toward the center of the cylinder. With a forceful heave, its hands and arms broke through the thick foam. Its fingers grasped at its face and ripped the foam away, revealing the round face of a woman. A girl, actually, no older than about twenty. She gasped, trying to suck in oxygen. Her wavy, sand-colored hair began swirling in the air around her head.
Seven gasped. “Kami, it’s you! Damn, you are one mighty fine sight for sore eyes.”
The girl’s eyes were wide as she floundered to grab hold of something. “What’s happening? Why am I floating like this?”
Seven told her about the motion-sickness canister in the side of her pod, but she seemed too distressed to comprehend. Still mostly in her cocoon, she was now drifting toward the far wall.
“Grab one of the handrails,” Ember offered.
The girl—Kami—managed to do this. “Where are we, Seven? What happened? What went wrong?”
“Just relax and get yourself undiscombobulated. We’ll find out more soon. It might help to get that irksome cocoon all the way off.”
The girl fell silent and started working her way out of her cocoon while still holding the handrail. As the cocoon started coming off, Ember saw that Kami’s clothes were just as dirty and torn as Seven’s.
Ember turned to Seven. “You two know each other?”
He nodded once. “A long story. We’ve been through a few things. Didn’t know if I’d ever see her again.”
Kami grunted as she yanked the cocoon down her legs and off her feet. She was a stocky, muscular girl. In fact… Ember stared at her face.
“I know who you are! You’re the athlete from over on Maple Street, the property behind mine. Discus and shot put at SIU, right? Kami Falconer?”
The girl looked confused. She spoke in a hissing whisper. “What went wrong, Seven?”
“Your guess is as good as—”
A low pop cut off his words, and one of the other pods gaped open. A silent, cocooned figure tried to sit up, just as Ember had, then it started floating away from the pod. Two hands pushed out of the foam.
Almost simultaneously, the remaining two HopeWell chambers popped open, and two more cocooned figures emerged, wriggling to break free so they could breathe again.
Ember silently held her own breath as she watched the figures struggle to free their hands then rip the foam from their faces. They were no doubt as bewildered as she had been—HopeWell technicians were supposed to be here to remove their cocoons for them, and they sure as hell weren’t supposed to be experiencing weightlessness. HopeWell stasis was a strange process even under normal circumstances. Inactivation and reanimation were both instantaneous, and you experienced no passing of time in between—almost as if nothing had happened. However, it took thirty seconds for the cocoon to form, and another thirty seconds or more for it to be removed, so you had to hold your breath for at least a full minute. The time you were in stasis didn’t count, as your body was completely inactivated and didn’t require oxygen.
Seconds later, cries of confusion and fear reverberated through the cylinder.
As the newcomers struggled to get their frantic movements under control, Ember stared at each person in turn. She knew them all, even if not by name. For years, Ember had taken daily runs or walks within three miles of her house, and she had encountered everyone in her subdivision. Except for Seven, these people were her neighbors. Now she suspected all of them had been terminally contaminated by stasis waves from the HopeWell facility’s disastrous accident. As she had.
Anger, confusion, tears, and vomiting were inevitable, and they all occurred within minutes. Eventually, the cylinder became calm enough for some rudimentary conversation. Kami remained somber and quiet, perhaps in shock, but Ember and Seven managed to get the others to at least share their names.
The most striking in appearance was Arizona Redfern, an artist in her late twenties. Ember had seen her walking to her car a few times, over on Dogwood Street. Now, the long green dreadlocks floating around the woman’s head made her look like a hydra with tattoos, piercings, and supernaturally intense eyes.
Joshie, who seemed too distressed to remember his own last name, was a lanky, corkscrew-haired teen. A good-looking kid, probably popular at his high school, which made Ember wonder why he’d been at home at the time of the HopeWell accident. Probably sick or skipping school, thinking he had his whole life ahead of him.
Then there was Vernon Beatty. The man was a habitual walker, and Ember had said hello to him hundreds of times without ever asking his name. In his sixties, with wispy gray hair, he had a kind face. Now he was silently taking everything in, as if he thought he could make sense of the situation if he studied it hard enough.
Finally, everyone fell silent for several seconds.
Joshie, the high-school kid, said, “Um, does this mean they didn’t find the cure?”
Ember glanced at Seven. He was frowning.
“Perhaps I can answer your question,” a soft female voice said, seemingly coming from all sides of the cylinder at once.
Everyone exchanged looks.
“That’s her,” Seven said. “The computer that talked to me when I rejoined the living.”
The voice spoke again. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance. My sincere apologies, as I delayed addressing you until I was quite convinced you were all wakeful and cognizant. You have had quite the nap. And I must say, you all appear disgustingly disheveled. You look like something I’d draw with my left hand.”
More exchanged looks, now with even more confusion.
“Please identify yourself,” Vernon Beatty said.
“Of course. I am Hortense. This lovely name was chosen to help you feel more at home, as it apparently was a popular name during your time.”
The teenager Joshie huffed. “I’ve never heard of anyone named Hortense.”
“What do you mean, during our time?” Ember asked. “How long have we been in stasis?”
Seven let out a low moan. “Oh man, here we go. Hold on to your butts.”
“I understand your confusion,” Hortense said. “After all, you dunderheads could not even pour water out of a boot with instructions on the heel. Which is why I have prepared an explanation following a logical, progressive path, which will help you acquire the understanding needed to carry out your mission.”
“Mission?” Arizona Redfern shouted. “There’s been a mistake. We were supposed to be reanimated when HopeWell found a cure for what they caused! Why in freaking hell are we in space?”
“Please do not be angry,” the voice said. “I am not equipped to properly handle human anger, especially from someone who resembles an illustrated palm tree.”
The woman’s eyes became even more intense than before. “What the hell?”
Seven held out his free hand to calm the group. “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we all shut our pie holes long enough to let Hortense explain.” He looked from one person to the next, apparently assuming eye contact would help. Several of the others nodded.
After a moment of silence, the computer said, “Thank you, Seven. You are quite helpful, despite being a puke-faced ringtosser.”
“Hey!” Seven shouted. “What’s up with the insults?”
“Are they not helpful?” Hortense asked.
“Why would they be helpful?”
“I was informed that humans of your time took great pleasure in hurling insults and being habitually argumentative.”
“Well, your information is wrong.”
“Exactly what you would say if you were being argumentative.”
“I’m telling you the damn truth!”
“Oh dear. This is unfortunate. I will attempt to adjust, but I have relatively little control over my cognitive parameters and speech patterns. After all, I was created to accomplish a specific task and little more. Please have patience and allow me to continue. First, I will point out that I am aware all of you were in the vicinity of the HopeWell research facility at the time of the aforementioned accident. Indeed, it is the reason you are here now. You may think of your molecular contamination as a tragic misfortune, when in fact it is quite fortuitous. Your condition makes you the only humans capable of completing this mission.”
“Did they find a cure?” Joshie asked again.
“Treatment is available and will be provided when you have completed your mission.”
Ember wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or alarmed to hear this news. Without a cure, their bodies would degrade with every passing day. Within four or five months, their cognitive and bodily functions would deteriorate to the point of eliminating any kind of quality of life. By six or seven months, they’d all be dead.
“We want to be treated now!” Arizona demanded.
“Please do not be angry,” the computer said again. “As Seven suggested, perhaps you should all shut your pie holes and let me explain.”
The chamber became silent again.
“You were transported to this location and reanimated because of your current condition. Your condition will allow you to survive a certain process that would kill other humans. If you receive your treatment now, you will not be able to survive the process. This is why you will receive the treatment after you have completed your mission. Do you understand? Or are you simply too god-awful dense? Oh dear, I did it again. You may ignore that insult.”
“We get it,” said the older man Vernon. “Please continue.”
“To put it succinctly, your mission is to save the original human species from extinction.”
This resulted in looks of speechless shock. Except for Seven and Kami—they didn’t appear surprised at all.
“Some of us already know all that,” Seven said. “What we don’t know is why we’re now in space.”
“You are in space because of a grand plan to save the original human species from extinction. This plan requires you to make use of an off-world facility constructed many years ago. We have arrived at the facility, which is why you have been reanimated. Now it is time for you bumbling nincompoops to carry out your mission. Oh dear.”
More silence.
Ember feared the answer, but she had to ask anyway. “How long were we in stasis?”
“If you don’t mind, first I would prefer to firmly establish a sense of our current location. For reasons I will soon reveal, this facility was constructed in a location well beyond the most significant gravitational effects of our solar system, approximately 6.65 trillion kilometers from Earth. If you prefer, that is the equivalent of 0.7 light years. Transporting you from Earth to this facility took 105 years.”
“You gotta be kidding me,” Seven groaned.
“We’ve been in stasis 105 years?” Arizona shouted.
Seven muttered again. “You’re gonna wish that’s all it’s been.”
“I am still establishing a sense of our current location, you impatient ignoramuses,” Hortense stated. “Perhaps you will understand if you see your surroundings. To assist in this endeavor, I have deployed a drone equipped with a camera. Please direct your attention to the video monitor.”
A two-meter area of the curved wall between some of the hatches abruptly turned from white to black. Not completely black—pinpoints of light were scattered randomly over the entire image. It was a black sky full of stars.
“I will rotate the drone,” Hortense said.
The stars streaked across the screen for about two seconds then stopped. Now portions of the screen were completely black, without any stars at all.
“I will activate the drone’s guidance lights.”
The visible stars didn’t change, but the black areas of the screen instantly transformed into two white structures, obviously man-made. One structure was cylinder shaped, with circular hatches on its curved shell and numerous ping-pong-ball spheres arranged around the perimeter of one end. The other white structure was only partially visible on the screen, indicating it was probably larger than the cylinder. The distance between the two structures was steadily shrinking. When they were almost touching, Hortense said, “Hold on, as our vessel may experience a slight jostle.”
A low thump came from the end of the cylinder to Ember’s left. Her body drifted gently in that direction, but she easily got herself under control. On the screen, the two structures were now one.
The computer’s voice came from all directions. “Excellent. A perfect docking sequence. Ladies and germs, welcome to Peregrine Outpost.”