Aurora

  Eventually Freya’s class was taught by the youth Jochi, now even taller for his age, still shy in manner, his face as dark as Badim’s, topped with curly black hair. He had moved from Olympia to Nova Scotia to join the math group there, thus somehow fulfilling the import of his name, which in Mongolian meant “guest.”

  Quickly Freya and her fellow students found that although he was so shy he mostly looked at the floor, he could explain statistical operations to them better even than Gauss. In fact there were times when he corrected Gauss, or at least muttered qualifications to what Gauss said, things that they never understood. Once Gauss objected to one of Jochi’s corrections concerning a Boolean operation, and then after discussion had to admit Jochi was correct. “Guest’s gate guesses grate great Gauss,” Jochi suggested, looking at the floor. The other students made that into one of their tongue twisters. It was hard for them to understand what made Jochi so hesitant or fearful, given the utter decisiveness of what he said about math. “Jochi is not jokey,” they would say, “but he sure knows his math.”

  Badim’s friend Aram was now hosting Jochi in the spare room of his apartment, apparently so he could teach their class. Freya enjoyed asking him to explain things, as it resembled her questionnaire evenings in the cafés, and she could understand him too, so that the rudiments of statistics slowly got easier; at least temporarily, at the end of a lesson. Often the next week she had to learn it all again.

  One morning a couple of adults they did not know joined them, and sat at the back watching the class, which at first made people nervous, but as they were unobtrusive and said nothing, eventually the class ran about as usual. Jochi could not get any shyer than he already was, and ran them through the exercises in his usual downcast way, but also as firm and clear as ever.

  At the end of the class Aram and Delwin joined them too, and Freya was asked to stay along with Jochi. She made tea for them at the adults’ request, while they spoke with Jochi in gentle tones. What did he think of this, what did he think of that. Clearly he did not like these questions, but he answered them, his gaze directed at the floor. The adults nodded as if this were the way people always looked when they spoke, and indeed one of the strangers always looked at the ceiling, so maybe for them it was. They were mathematicians, part of the ship’s math group. This was a small, tight community, and odd as they were, they were well represented by Aram and Delwin on the executive council. Freya got the impression from the conversation that even though Jochi was already part of the math group, they wanted him to take on even more.

  Jochi was unhappy in the face of all this attention. He didn’t want them to be asking him to do any more than he already was. Freya watched him closely, and it was possible his expression reminded her of Devi, as it resembled the look on Devi’s face when she faced a problem she did not understand. And yet Jochi was so young and helpless.

  So Freya sat beside him, and distracted him between their questions, and asked questions of her own about what the mathematicians were up to, and all the while leaned gently against him, so that he might relax a little while he answered them. And he leaned back into her, the side of his curly head against her shoulder as he quivered and fought his own hesitations. Aram and Delwin and the mathematicians from elsewhere watched the two of them, and nodded, and looked at each other, and talked to Jochi some more.

  It was not statistics they spoke of; everyone there but Freya thought statistics was easy. What they were interested in was quantum mechanics. It had to do with the ship’s AI, which included a quantum computer, and therefore represented a challenge for the math group, and for the engineers tasked with maintaining the computer. There were always only a few people alive in the ship at any given time who had a real understanding of how the quantum computer worked, or even what it was. Now that group was smaller than ever before. In fact maybe no one had ever understood what it was. But these people thought Jochi could help them with that. Already they were asking him questions not to test him, but to get his views on problems that were troubling them, to elucidate their own understanding. As he spoke to the floor they watched him as if they were falcons looking at a mouse, or at an eagle. At one point Aram glanced at Delwin and smiled. They had first visited Jochi in Olympia only two years before.

  After that meeting, Aram and Jochi walked home with Freya, and Badim welcomed them, and soon after that Devi showed up, home early for once. She welcomed the tall boy with a cheeriness that Freya hadn’t seen in years. They ate together talking around him, and very slowly he began to relax, warmed by the sound of their voices.

  When Aram and Jochi left, Badim explained to Freya that Jochi had been an unapproved birth. His parents had undone their infertility, and broken the law to have him. If too many people did that, they would be doomed; so it wasn’t allowed. Freya nodded as Badim explained this, cutting him off with a wave of the hand: “I’ve heard all about this, believe me. People hate this rule.”

  Jochi’s parents, Badim continued, had gone feral and escaped into the wilderness of Amazonia, where they were said to be living under the roots of a tree on a half-drowned island, with the monkeys and jaguars. No one had been sure what to do about that, but some of their own generation in Amazonia felt cheated by their act, and were angry with them. Some of these people had hunted the couple down, in an attempt to bring them to an accounting, and during this hunt the young father had been killed resisting capture. This had caused further grief and anger, because the man who had killed the father was charged with the crime, and exiled to Ring A, indeed to Siberia (metaphor or historical reference), and there forced to perform hard labor or face confinement. Meanwhile, back in Amazonia, the surviving mother and her illicit child were blamed for these sanctions against the supposedly law-abiding but inadvertent person who had killed the father; and the young mother, in her own grief for her murdered partner, had seemed to reject the child. That part of the story was unclear, but in any case, there were relatives of hers who didn’t want her to be bringing him up. So he had been neglected, even mistreated, which was very rare in the ship. A solution had had to be found, and then it was realized that he had some kind of gift with numbers, a gift so esoteric people didn’t even know what it was. Aram and Delwin had visited and examined the boy, and then Aram had asked to foster him, but that request had taken a long time to come to fruition. But now it had.

  “Poor Jochi,” Freya said when Badim finished the story. “All that family stuff, and then a gift too. It’s more than anyone should have to bear.”

  “There’s no such thing!” Devi shouted from the kitchen. She clattered dishes in the sink, took a long swig from the bottle of wine by the stove.

  Ship came within the heliopause of Tau Ceti. They were soon to reach their destination. The local Oort cloud, ten times denser than the solar system’s, was nevertheless still not particularly dense; only three small course adjustments sufficed to allow ship to thread a route between ice planetesimals and continue with the final deceleration. Slower and slower they approached Planet E and E’s moon. They were just about there.

  “Just about there,” Devi would repeat hoarsely when Badim or Freya said this. “Just in time, you mean!”

  She was continuing to worry about a nematode infestation, the missing phosphorus, the bonded minerals, the corrosion, and all the other metabolic rifts. And her own health. She had a non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, Badim’s medical team had decided. There were thirty identified kinds of non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, and hers was said to be one of the more problematic ones. Lymphocytes were accumulating in her spleen and tonsils. The doctors in the relevant part of the medical group were trying to deal with her problem by way of various chemotherapies. She was very closely involved with all the treatment decisions, of course, as was Badim. She monitored her own bodily functions and levels as comprehensively as she monitored the ship and its biomes, and indeed often compared or cross-referenced the two.

  Freya tried not to learn any more about the details of this problem than sh
e had to. She knew enough to know she didn’t want to know more.

  Devi saw this in her, and she didn’t like to talk about her health anyway; so a time came when she began muttering to Badim at night, when she thought Freya was asleep. This was somewhat like how they had behaved when Freya was a girl.

  Devi also disappeared from time to time for a day or two, to spend time at the medical complex in Costa Rica. And she stopped leaving their apartment to work every day, a change that obviously startled Badim. Unlikely as it seemed, there she was, sitting in their kitchen throughout entire full days, working on screens. Sometimes she even worked from bed.

  Sometimes, when Freya came into their kitchen, she found her mother looking at the communications feed from Earth. Now its information had taken nearly twelve years to reach them. Devi was not at all impressed with many aspects of the information being sent to them. Her comments were unvaryingly negative. But she watched anyway. There was a medical strand in the feed, designed to bring them new information on latest Terran practices, and she watched the abstracts from this strand most of all.

  “So much is happening,” she said once to Badim, when Freya was in the next room. “They’re really pushing up the length of life there. Even the poorest are getting basic services and nutrition and vaccinations, so the infant and child mortality rates are going down, and average lifetimes are rising fast. Or at least they were twelve years ago.”

  “No doubt they still are.”

  “Yeah. Probably so.”

  “See anything useful?”

  “I don’t know. How would I tell?”

  “I don’t know. We’re always checking it, but we might miss something.”

  “It’s a world, that’s the thing. It takes a world.”

  “So we have to make one.”

  Devi made a sound between her lips.

  After a long silence she said, “Meanwhile, our lifetimes are getting shorter. Take a look at this graph. Every generation has died earlier than the one before, at an accelerating rate through time. All across the board, not just the people, but everything alive. We’re falling apart.”

  “Mmmm,” Badim said. “But it’s just island biogeography, right? The distance effect. And the farther the distance, the more the effect. In this case, twelve light-years. Must be the same as infinity.”

  “So why didn’t they take that into account?”

  “I think they tried to. We’re a heterogeneous immigration, as they would call it. A kind of archipelago of environments, all moving together. So they did what they could.”

  “But didn’t they run the numbers? Didn’t they see it wouldn’t work?”

  “Apparently not. I mean, they must have thought it would work, or they wouldn’t have done it.”

  Devi heaved one of her big sighs. “I’d like to see their numbers. I can’t believe they didn’t put all that information here on board. It’s like they knew they were being fools, and didn’t want us to know. As if we wouldn’t find out!”

  “The information is here on board,” Badim said. “It’s just that it doesn’t help us. We’re going to experience some allopatric speciation, that’s inevitable, and maybe even the point. There’ll be sympatric speciation within our eventual ecosystem, and we’ll all deviate together from Terran species.”

  “But at different rates! That’s what they didn’t take into account. The bacteria are evolving faster than the big animals and plants, and it’s making the whole ship sick! I mean look at these figures, you can see it—”

  “I know—”

  “Shorter lifetimes, smaller bodies, longer disease durations. Even lower IQs, for God’s sake!”

  “That’s just reversion to the mean.”

  “You say that, but how could you tell? Besides, just how smart could the people who got into this ship have been? I mean, ask yourself—why did they do it? What were they thinking? What were they running away from?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Look at this, Bee—if you run the data through the recursion algorithms, you see that it’s more than a simple reversion. And why wouldn’t it be? We don’t get enough stimulation in here, the light is wrong, the gravity was Coriolised and now it isn’t, and now we’ve got different bacterial loads in us than humans ever did before, diverging farther and farther from what our genomes were used to.”

  “That’s probably true on Earth too.”

  “Do you really think so? Why wouldn’t it be worse in here? Fifty thousand times smaller surface area? It isn’t an island, it’s a rat’s cage.”

  “A hundred square kilometers, dear. It’s a good-sized island. In twenty-four semiautonomous biomes. An ark, a true world ship.”

  No reply from Devi.

  Finally Badim said, “Look, Devi. We’re going to make it. We’re almost there. We’re on track and on schedule, and almost every biome is extant and doing pretty well, or at least hanging in there. There’s been a little regression and a little diminution, but pretty soon we’ll be on E’s moon, and flourishing.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t we?”

  “Oh come on, Beebee. Any number of factors could impact us once we get there. The probes only had a couple of days each to collect data, so we don’t really know what we’re coming into.”

  “We’re coming into a water world in the habitable zone.”

  Again no reply from Devi.

  “Come on, gal,” Badim said quietly. “You should get to bed. You need more sleep.”

  “I know.” Devi’s voice was ragged. “I can’t sleep anymore.” She had lost 11 kilograms.

  “Yes you can. Everyone can. You can’t not sleep.”

  “You would think.”

  “Just stop looking at these screens for a while. They’re waking you up, not just the content, but the light in your eyes. Close your eyes and listen to music. Number every worry, and let them go with their numbers. You’ll fall asleep well before you run out of numbers. Come on, let me get you into bed. Sometimes you have to let me help you.”

  “I know.”

  They began to move, and Freya slipped back toward her bedroom.

  Before she got there she heard Devi say, “I feel so bad for them, Bee. There aren’t enough of them. Not everyone is born to be a scientist, but to survive they’re all going to have to do it, even the ones who aren’t good at it, who can’t. What are they supposed to do? On Earth they could find something else to do, but here they’ll just be failures.”

  “They’ll have E’s moon,” Badim said quietly. “Don’t feel bad for them. Feel bad for us, if you like. But we’ll make it too. And meanwhile, we have each other.”

  “Thank God for that,” Devi said. “Oh Beebee, I hope I make it! Just to see! But we keep slowing down.”

  “As we have to.”

  “Yes. But it’s like trying to live past the end of Zeno’s paradox.”

  Tau Ceti’s debris disk successfully threaded, they came into its planetary zone. A close pass of Planet H pulled them into the local plane of the ecliptic.

  The brief tug of H’s gravity, combined with a planned rocket deceleration, created enough delta v to slosh the water in the storage tanks, and thus cause some alarms in ship to go off, which then caused various systems to shut down; and some of these systems did not come back on line when they were instructed to.

  The most important of the systems that did not come back was the cooling system for the ship’s nuclear reactor, which should not have gone off in the first place, unless an explosion in it was imminent. At the same time, the backup cooling system did not start up to replace its function.

  More ship alarms immediately informed the operations staff of this problem, and quickly (sixty-seven seconds) identified the sources of the problem in both cooling systems. In the primary system, there had been a signal from the on-off switch directing it to turn off, caused either by computer malfunction or a surge in the power line to the switch; in the backup system, it was
a stuck valve in a pipe joint near the outer wall of the reactor.

  Devi and Freya joined the repair crew hurrying up to the spine, where the reactor was continuing to operate, but in a rapidly warming supply of coolant.

  “Help me go fast,” Devi said to Freya.

  So Freya held her by the arm and hurried by her side, lifting her outright and running with her when they had steps or bulkheads to get through. When they got to the spine they took an elevator, and Freya simply held Devi in her arms and then lifted her around when the elevator car stopped and g-forces pushed them across the car; after that she carried her mother like a dog or a small child, hauling her around the spine’s microgravity. Devi said nothing, did not curse as she did sometimes in their kitchen; but the look on her face was the same as in those moments. She looked as if she wanted to kill something.

  But she kept her mouth clamped shut, and when they got to the power plant offices she grasped a wall cleat and a desk, and let Aram and Delwin do the talking with the team there while she scanned the screens. The backup cooling system was controlled from the room next door, and the monitors indicated the problem was inside the pipes that passed through the room beyond; it still looked like it was just a stuck valve, as far as the monitor in the joint could tell. But that was enough.