Limbo: A Sci-Friday Tale

II:Cycles

I never met with the Captain, merely listened to his irritated voice through the communications screen in my quarters. He ordered me to double check Eden's half of the galley read outs. As if the android could be wrong, but why would I protest when I ordered Andy to do the same to the engines. I would get to it later.

My conversation with Cass left me pensive. I sat on my bunk, reading over the entries in my journal. This wasn't the first cycle of dreams I'd had since Eden woke us for our turn as crew. Each crew served a term of ten years before returning to the pods, a revolving cycle of seven thousand individuals, each trained in teams of five to maintain the ship. A set up to ensure the generation ship could stay in space as long as necessary.

It was two years since our awakening in the ship medical bay. In those two years, I experienced the dreams every month, though usually only one or two nights at a time. This was the longest streak, and the most intense.

It was true there were differences between them, but one detail was the same. The one I failed to share with Cass because it terrified me.

All of them ended in the promise of fire, never seen but felt in every nerve of my body.

I read over each entry, running my fingertips along the grooves and bumps of my handwriting, a familiar calming habit. There were only twenty pages left to fill. I would have to see if there was another journal among the miscellaneous supplies of the ship's stores. This one came with my quarters, a thoughtful, personal touch left by the previous occupant. I wonder if the person before me kept a similar journal. What thoughts did they fill it with? Did they miss a world they'd never seen? According to Eden, we were the fifth cycle, but the information rang false. None of us remembered anything before waking up in the medical bay. Not even the Captain.

Eden insisted this was a normal side effect of our time in the pods. According to the A.I.'s records, we were second generation. Birthed and maturated from the first generation before the pods became a necessity to the survival of the human race rather than secondary option.

The original crew believed we would have found a home long before a second generation came into being.

Eventually I gave up pouring over the journal for answers, eating a supplement bar instead of venturing out to the mess hall.

The others would be there, Leo, Andy, Cass, and our fifth crewman Corvus, who worked with Andromeda on the engines. I was the technical one, trained in fixing everything else, even Eden if necessary, but nothing needed fixing now. Only my head.

I went to sleep.

***

When you fall in a dream, they say your body wakes you before you hit the ground, a natural reflex.

This is not always the case.

Wind rushed past me, through me, invading every nook and crevasse with a buffeting push and pull as I tumbled end over end. Below me spread an endless expanse of water, an ominous dark blue gray waiting to swallow me whole. My arm reached up, ripping a cord at my side.

The world titled sideways as fabric billowed up above me, thrusting me upward until, my plummet became a graceful floating descent. The sun crested the horizon, transforming the hungry sea into a landscape of watery jewels sparking with light. The haughty call of seagulls filled the air. A pod of dolphins danced in the waters below. Life, life all around me. I could smell the brine of the sea, the pungent salty scent unique to the water.

The heat rose. A drop of perspiration slid along my temple. The chemical scent of ozone eclipsed the sea as the breeze shifted.

The fire licked at my back.

***

I woke, my heart a furious beat against my ribs. It took several minutes, dragging each breath into my lungs, for my pulse to slow. Even then, I spent the rest of the night, fitfully dozing, unable to close my eyes long for fear of the flame.

***

Eden shook me awake, her expressionless face looking over me. 'You look pale, Lyra. Did you not go to the garden?'

I sat up, rubbing my face as the android ran her scans.

'You appear to have an insufficient amount of stage 4 sleep. You never dipped beyond the REM cycle. Do you wish to take an extended rest period this morning?'

"No, no, I'm fine," I said. If Eden picked up on the impulsiveness of my answer, she did not remark on it. "Besides, I have work to do." Re-checking our A.I.'s work. The captain hadn't remarked on any particular errors to watch for, it was more a general overseeing to ensure her scans matched mine. It was nothing more than incredibly boring busy work.

Eden bid me farewell, leaving me to collect myself.

I eyed the journal by my bed without really looking at it. I should write the dream down with the rest, the details still vivid in my mind. For what purpose? They all ended the same way.

***

I saw no one on my way to the galley. Typical since I was a bit later than usual leaving my quarters, skipping another meal in the mess hall in favor of that boring busy work. I found myself more inclined to something that would take my mind off the internal spin of my thoughts. The galleys were not quiet, not like the garden. The noises were inorganic, the lulling hum of machinery, the steady low beep of the various monitors, recording, constantly recording the sleepers.

I stopped by the first pod of Eden's half, recording the readouts. Perfect as always. Same cycle, day in, day out. I move on to the next one. Do they dream of fire? Do they dream at all?

It isn't until I am two rows in I find myself staring at the read out screen. It is the same. There is nothing notable or different to separate yesterday's readout from today's but something about it bothers me all the same. What am I missing? That niggling doubt continues to nip at the back of my thoughts as I scan the rest. There was nothing amiss with Eden's read outs, which I report to the captain.

The doubt follows me as I sat for a midday meal in the mess hall.

Andy and Corvus plopped down a table away, bantering back and forth. The captain eventually joined them, sliding easily into the conversation. I wonder if Cass will make an appearance and find myself experiencing a rare moment of loneliness. I am not moved to join the others. In two years, I've established a somewhat hostile relationship with Andy, a passingly professional one with the captain, and Corvus is little more than a stranger. He makes no eye contact with me whatsoever. The others are close, even Cass is friendly with them, but I remain apart.

I don't belong here.

It is not a passing thought, but a mantra that isolates me. Two years, and I've never felt part of the crew. I finish my meal and leave, walking the empty corridors of the ship. It is a massive structure for five people to inhabit. By rights, we should all be lonely, but the others pull to each other. I push away. Eventually I find myself in the galleys once more, strolling through the beeping pods of the sleepers. There is a sort of comfort here. I know the sleepers in their metal pods are as alone as I am.

I pass Eden as I walk, scanning the pods as usual. Her endless task was the same as mine. Her actions were the same for each one, unchanging.

What detail did I miss?