Synthetic Reality

The Crew

The dodecahedron could've passed for an exotic asteroid. Gravimetric phase shifters had no visible windows, doors, or propulsion mechanism. They'd been adrift for three days and what was left of the twelve-man crew worked to revive the ship.  

"We're bouncing around like a stray electron in the core of a star." 

The silver-skinned middle-aged humanoid had intense black eyes. Small blue and white striped insects crawled along the top of his bald head. He glared at a detailed 3-D hologram of the sector. Their helpless circular trajectory was accurately represented and tracked. 

The gas giant was beautiful from a distance with its immense spiral of rainbow-colored rings. Orbiting in a ship consumed by the churning river of stone and ice was another story. 

"More like riding the rim of an event horizon," responded the first man's twin.

The four #71EEB8 clones on the bridge were identical to a DNA level, all the exact age they were born to, wearing matching seafoam green flight suits, and jump boots. 

"The neutrino bears are multiplying," added the third twin. His words were not spoken but thought and understood by all on board. 

A sense of joy, relief, and hope was experienced unanimously. 

The next deck down was silent. Crew quarters and kitchen empty. Three bodies in the med-bay lay bagged, stacked, motionless. 

In the heart of the ship, a Hexagon Memorizer shimmered and glowed like a miniature version of the craft itself. Its quantum computing power guided the actions of both ship and crew. Insects crawled the conduits of the great open room that surrounded the Memorizer. Busy bees drifted between hives and hydroponics strategically placed in the five corners of the electric second level.

The lower deck was abuzz with more mammal-esque activity. While they were missing fundamental mammalian qualities like hair, females, and the ability to reproduce sexually, they made up for it with digitally enhanced neocortices that put their terrestrial genetic ancestors to shame. They moved in unison, rarely speaking, like limbs of a single superorganism. Their minds interlinked via neural transmitters kept a constant connection to each other and the central Memorizer. 

Three clones emerged from the plasma drive airlock. They stood momentarily as the antechamber hosed off their pressure suits, then they removed their helmets.

"The rupture is repaired," said the Scientist. 

The Engineer and the Grav-drive Operator still stridently working away looked up and smiled. 

"We'll be able to establish a pulse," suggested the Gravity Shifter. 

"Excellent. Navigation will pass telemetry," said the optimistic Engineer. 

The engine room sparkled with digital color as crystalline diamond controls flashed and pulsed. The destruction of two days earlier was no longer visible. They worked fast. 

The Scientist exited engineering with more of a statement than a question. 

"If I'm no longer needed, I'll return to the bridge."

His two assistants quickly stowed the environmental gear and followed the Scientist out of the room. Outsiders would refer to the assistants as Jacks or Jack-of-all-trades. An old term but accurate. Though there was no hierarchy in the anarchistic egalitarian society, the Jacks were truly the pride of the collective. Able to slide into any role, do any job, perform any task with precision and skill. They were dedicated, humble, egoless, and above all ruthlessly capable. Nothing was too complex, nothing too insignificant. They assembled a robotic laser cannon from spare parts with the same thoroughness they would replace batteries in a flashlight.