Thresholds
A ¶ & ✫ story
Dramatis Personae
Vikram Jay Stephenson, former Department Head of Engineering
Gareth Clovar, Specialist Reactor Engineer
Despite traveling over twice the distance as Sol to Earth, light from Adalia star filtered in through the small portal and reflected innumerable times from steel wall to steel wall, filling the austere office with a cool luminescence. Shadows cast by a handful of small mechanical trinkets became diffuse, creating patterns reminiscent of the spots on a cheetah. Or perhaps a cow. Former Head of Engineering Vikram Jay Stephenson was unsure which comparison was more apt given his purely theoretical understanding of old-Earth fauna. Still, the idea helped create a sense of living attachment to his ancestral home.
Since arriving in Adalia years before, work had progressed quickly, first on shipbreaking the Arvad and then constructing the buildings of Adalia Prime’s first colony, Arkos. Vikram’s office was located in the northernmost cluster of buildings of Arkos’s perimeter and faced south, giving him an unimpeded view of the fledgling colony as it developed. Some days, he lost himself for hours simply watching the central cluster of warehouses under construction, envisioning the many future resources and technology they would soon hold.
Vikram tried leaning back in his chair to become lost in reminiscent thought once more until his spine reminded him that ergonomics were not a concern of the furniture makers. He groaned audibly, more to chastise himself than out of discomfort, and was glad no one was around to witness his error.
When the Arvad arrived, no one realized how long it would take to seed the beginning of humanity’s habitation of the system. Jubilation from simply surviving the journey and the gold rush to identify and claim quality “land” that followed colored expectations. Everyone was so optimistic in those early days that the crushing reality of just how brutal setting up sustainable infrastructure was a gut punch to the Arvadians’ morale. Contemplating the development of Arkos and its increasing capacity for supporting human life was a salve for Vikram’s distress, and he considered himself lucky to have a front-row view of their progress.
Vikram picked up a small steel placard that had previously adorned a wall in the council chambers aboard the Arvad. It read “AEC-1138 →,” the designation of the primary conduit feeding the room’s meager electrical systems. He had lost count of how many times he had to pry the panel open to fix the lights or ensure the air was circulating correctly, and by the time it was his turn to leave the Arvad, the interior of the conduit felt like home, almost as much as his quarters.
Technically, the placard should have been recycled for construction material with the rest of the Arvad, but Vikram was feeling sentimental in those early days. As he watched the initial shipbreaking commence on his Muse, he felt a surprising, deep emotional twinge and knew he needed something to remember his beautiful ship by. Luckily, rank had its privileges, and he managed to coerce the pilot of an EVA into helping him secure his prize. Now, the placard related to nothing but a memory, but for Vikram, it represented a physical link between where they had recently come from and the future they were building.
The placard still bore burns from the welding torch that broke it from the wall. Vikram once entertained the thought of polishing it and tapping out its dents, but in the end, he liked the patina. It told a story that reflected the journey and fate of the Arvad itself. “I survived, scarred and battered but not broken, and have transcended my original purpose into one of greater meaning.”
Vikram held the placard at an angle to catch the light, breaking the mottled shadows here and there with a silver glare. He remembered hearing how cats enjoyed playing with reflected light and wondered what a cheetah might do were it in his office. “It would probably kill me outright,” he thought and chuckled at his absurdity.
A series of respectful knocks sounded from outside the door. Vikram placed the placard back in its place of honor on his desk and said, “Come on in.”
The door scraped open, and Vikram winced. The buildings on Arkos were not precisely built according to the strictest code — at least, as far as the interiors went. Finding two walls adjoining at a 90-degree angle was almost as rare as a doorway that opened without scraping against the jam.
On the other side stood Gareth Clovar, his eyes narrowed and teeth bared in a grimace. “It never gets less unpleasant, does it?” he said, gesturing to the slab of steel that comprised the door as he stepped into the office.
“No, it doesn’t,” Vikram agreed. “Though I can’t really complain. After all, there aren’t many private compartments outside the living quarters.”
Gareth nodded in agreement. “You’re right about that. Let alone a private office.”
“Yes, well, rank-”
“Hath its privileges,” Gareth finished, rolling his eyes. “You’ve said that many times.”
“Doesn’t make it any less true,” Vikram shrugged. “Anyway, what can I do for you? Do you want to close the door?”
Gareth leaned against the door jam and said, “Absolutely, I do not. And I’m sorry to bother you; I’m sure you’re swamped.”
Vikram smiled inwardly and glanced at AEC-1138. “Probably not as busy as you think.”
“Well, that makes one of us. The Council has been running me ragged. They’ve been doing the same to poor Rutherford, but at least I haven’t had as many complications with my biotech. We’re almost finished with the final preparations for the first batch of transports, and every damn stakeholder across Arkos has started back up demanding concessions. Dammit, I’m an engineer, not a product manager.”
“I didn’t realize they still had you working on those ships,” Vikram said.
“Yeah, well, at a certain point, I guess everyone figured that there was only so much optimization you could do on our reactor designs. For better or worse, the smelters we came up with before we arrived have been holding up pretty well. So I got reassigned a while ago.” Gareth shrugged in defeat.
“In their defense, your designs were brilliant. The Council-” he coughed, “former Council was incredibly grateful.”
“Thanks, and you expressed your gratitude with enough SWAY to buy a small asteroid,” Gareth smirked. “But that was then, and we’re still stuck on AP. So what else is there for an engineer to do but build ships?”
Vikram gestured around his office and said, “Get a desk job?”
“Not all of us are former council, asshole,” Gareth laughed.
Vikram chuckled in return. “Fair enough. I’ve been focused on life support myself. Between Arkos, Ya’axche, and Saline, the demand for breathable air has increased significantly since the Arvad. Birth rates are way up, too, which shouldn’t be surprising but still blows me away.” He glanced out the window, his eyes darting between the distant southerly colonies he could not see but knew were there.
Ya’axche, Adalia Prime’s second colony named for the ancient Mayan “tree of life,” was almost as densely populated as Arkos. Its inhabitants trended towards the political center, its buildings arrayed in three branches, evoking the organic shape of a tree or bush. Vikram visited once but found the ambivalent-at-best attitude towards councils past and present unnerving.
Saline, the newest and smallest colony, was colloquially considered a “frontier town” given its heavy focus on mining and refining. As such, it had the fewest buildings intended for human habitation and non-resource production tasks and the least exciting design. Its core buildings were more or less arrayed in a straight line, with ancillary structures dotting the perimeter. After his unsettling experience in Ya’axche, Vikram was reluctant to visit, though their progress mining and refining Adalia Prime’s resources meant he likely could not put it off much longer.
“I know what you mean,” Gareth said, snapping Vikram’s attention back to the conversation in the office. “Areanna has been off working on her own projects for years now, but I can’t imagine bringing another life into such an uncertain world.”
“Well, technically, this isn’t a world,” Vikram corrected him.
“Shut up. Still, you have to respect the drive to survive.”
Vikram nodded. “You and I may be old geezers at this point, biotech-be-damned, but in the end, humans are going to follow their biological imperative.”
“We’re just machines, after all,” Gareth said.
“Doing what we were built to do,” Vikram agreed.
“Right, so, life support. That’s obviously important, though I’d probably drive myself mad if I had to re-learn atmospheric chemistry and plumbing.”
“And you’re working on, what, the engines of our future transports? So what’s the problem?”
“No real problem,” Gareth said. “At least, not with the type of work. There is just so much of it. I was hoping you could help me requisition a vacation.”
Vikram’s eyebrows shot up involuntarily. “You want a vacation? I haven’t heard of such a thing… ever. How is that different from wellness leave or downtime?”
“You know it’s difficult to get more than 48 hours approved if you’re essential. I’m the victim of my own success. And I miss my daughter.”
Vikram tried leaning back in his chair again but caught himself before it became embarrassingly obvious. Instead, he leaned forward and steepled his fingers.
“I’m not on the Council anymore, you know. I can’t just snap my fingers and reassign personnel.”
“Sure, but you’re still the most accomplished engineer in Adalia. Not to mention, you have the Council’s ear. Aren’t you running any special projects or initiatives that could use my expertise out in Saline?”
“Nothing special is happening in Saline,” Vikram said.
“That’s elitist,” Gareth admonished.
“It was a joke. Look, I don’t think I have quite the clout anymore you think I do. But I’ll see what I can do. What’s Areanna doing out in Saline, anyway?”
“Special project from Newberry,” Gareth said with a wink.
Vikram groaned. “Ugh, okay. I suppose mining operations are starting to pick up out there. I can probably spin something about your expertise being relevant to bringing refining operations online, but you’ll likely need to take a few meetings. It won’t be a real vacation.”
Gareth nodded vigorously. “No, no, that’s all fine. Honestly, I just want to see my daughter.” He paused for a moment. “Okay, that’s not entirely true. I also wouldn’t mind taking a hiatus from working on ships. Getting my hands dirty with one of my old smelter designs sounds close enough to a vacation for my purposes.”
Vikram smiled. “Well, when we look at it from that perspective, I’m certain we can figure something out.”
“Thank you!” Gareth beamed. “That means so much to me, thank you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Vikram waved his hand casually. “Just don’t go telling anyone, or I’ll have to start handing out favors to every genius engineer to whom humanity owes a great debt.”
They both laughed.
“Seriously,” Vikram continued after a moment, “It’s my pleasure. Say hi to your genius daughter for me, will you?”
“Of course! She’ll be thrilled; she always liked you, you know.”
“Stop buttering me up; I’m already helping you.”
“Fair enough,” Gareth laughed. “But it’s true. She thinks you’re funny.”
“I am funny, that’s true,” Vikram grinned. “Now get out of here. One of my more obnoxious former subordinates just asked me for a favor that will take enormous effort to pull off.”
“Yes, sir,” Gareth said, giving a mock salute. He turned and walked from the office.
“And thank you!” he called back after a moment, his voice echoing faintly down the corridor before reaching Vikram’s office.
Vikram chuckled once more and opened his Muse. Then shouted, “Dammit, Gareth, close the door!”
There was no response. Vikram sighed, affectionately tapped AEC-1138, and began composing a message to the new Council on behalf of his friend.
