“Why do I feel like I’m about to be converted to some weird space religion?” Foster remarked as he passed through the corridor of decorative bulkheads. Stopping at the first pew, he plopped down with a large thud and truly took in the room. “But, as alien prayer rooms go, I guess it’s kind of nice.”
Sliding down the bench a couple of feet, he scanned the large room for anything out of the ordinary. Well, anything out of the ordinary considering their current situation. But after a couple of minutes of searching, he found very little to pique his curiosity beyond the point of pretending to care.
“Still,” Foster pointed to the ceiling where a crude mural loomed over them. “It’s not every day you see an intricate fresco with ornamental wood inlays on an abandoned space station.”
“Tell me about it,” Joseph sat down beside Foster. “Too bad you really can’t make out what it’s supposed to be.”
Justine tilted her gaze toward the high ceiling and was also greeted by the detailed image of five sets of intertwined fingers surrounding what looked like a rising sun. “What do you mean can’t make it out? It looks like a bunch of hands joined together.”
“You think?” Joseph squinted a little bit more and the way she described the image made the whole thing come clearer into focus. “Maybe. But why would someone create a mural of people shaking hands?”
“Why would anyone do any of the things we’ve come across so far?” Foster stood up from his seat and stretched out his aching back. “Still, this place does look harmless enough.”
“So did the engineering level,” Justine gave the scientist an exaggerated side eye. “But I’m sure you remember how that turned out.”
“Could have been worse,” he mockingly began to rub his sore chest. “We could have been alone in that maze without you and your pistol.”
“How many times do I have to tell you? It’s called a Slinger?” Outwardly she smiled. But inside, the thought of Foster’s body crashing into that panel stirred up a long time ago but barely forgotten depth of emotion. “And yes… it could have.”
Ready to move forward and forget that little incident, Foster walked up to the stone pilar and paused. “I’m sure that thing holds some kind of spiritual or cultural significance, but I just don’t care.”
Then, without really paying any more attention to the pedestal sitting on top of the pilar, he moved past them to the open door and the dimly lit corridor beyond. “At least this path is wide enough for all three of us.”
About ten feet wide and eight feet tall, the route forward had ample headroom to spare and the light from the main room provided more than enough illumination for a stroll. Hoover, on the other hand, saw the extra space a little differently. “Yeah. Walking hand in hand sounds like a lot of fun.”
“If we were hand in hand,” Justine smiled at a mental picture of her and her friends in third grade. “Then we shouldn’t be walking. We should be skipping.”
“No,” Joseph said with the resoluteness of gravity. “We should definitely not be skipping down the hallway.”
“But you should be holding hands?”
“Foster!” The deputy looked thoroughly annoyed as he spoke. “Please control your program.”
“He’s not my program, Joseph.” Foster crossed over into the dimly lit corridor and his sinuses immediately made him sneeze.
“Bless you, Foster.” Hoover said in response. “And to be clear, I am his program. He just doesn’t control me.”
“Thanks, buddy.” He pressed his hand firmly over his nose. “This level is even dirtier than the last one.”
Not hand in hand, the trio slogged down the dimly lit corridor towards another sizeable circular door. Unlike the first one, this barrier was closed tight and completely encrusted with a thin layer of something that looked like dirt. “I guess aliens don’t have maid service.”
“Not usually,” Joseph said bluntly. “We generally clean up our own messes.”
“Wow. Alien sarcasm.” Foster retorted to his veiled commentary. “That’s new.”
“Behave you two.” Justine slid in between them to act as a buffer. “Or mom’s going to have to give you two a spanking.”
“Sorry,” the deputy said out of fear while looking only slightly remorseful. “It’s been a long day.”
“Tell me about it.” Satisfied the moment had passed, Justine led the expedition further down the corridor. When they drew within five feet of its end, an unseen trigger engaged, and the door began to slide open smoothly.
Given its outward appearance, Foster was surprised the barrier still functioned, let alone so well. “I guess they do still make them like they used to.”
Justine drew close and wiped away about half an inch of dust from the forgotten wall with her finger. The ‘substance’ felt both slightly gritty and perfectly smooth under her touch. And she couldn’t help but think if abandonment had a texture, this is what it would feel like.
“Yeah,” she said, as they cautiously passed through the archway. “But who is ‘they’?”
Without missing a beat, they turned their heads in perfect unison to stare expectantly at an unprepared Joseph. Only instead of answers, they were greeted by a look of ignorance that would have disarmed even the strictest of kindergarten teachers.
“Book 1,” he offered slyly, without any hint of underlying meaning. “Whoever they were, they were way before my time.”
Given Joseph’s limited alien life span, Foster didn’t find that revelation hardly surprising. Disappointing, but not surprising. So, with a slight amount of trepidation, he took a step forward and the first thing they noticed was the air. It was damp and stale, like an old basement without any windows.
“Hoover,” Foster used his control phone to activate the 8-ball’s fiber optics. Instantly, light erupted into the cavernous room and before them lay rows upon rows of squat, dull looking desks. Each one was about four feet in height, dark brown in color, and solidly built from the countertop to the floor.
“What is this place?” He asked, slightly taken aback by the size of the space. “Are there any systems you can access?”
Usually bursting at the chance to contribute his thoughts in any situation, the outspoken A.I. was mysteriously incommunicado.
“Hoover?” He repeated while watching Joseph wander over to one of the desks. Why were there so many of them, he wondered? Did the universe offer GED’s to the scum of the universe? Maybe this place was some kind of weird galactic call center? Maybe they sold time shares? No, he admonished himself, no one in the universe could be that cruel.
“This place seems to go on forever.” Justine peered into the shadowy darkness for any signs of trouble. “Do you think the whole level is like this?”
“Hoover!” Oblivious to her question, Foster’s voice grew louder as concern shot through his body like an electric shock. On the verge of tearing into his satchel, the impending panic attack was postponed by an excited Joseph saying something about the nearby, seemingly operational workstation.
“I think we got a winner.” The deputy said excitedly.
Snapping out of his state, Foster saw a small monitor resting on top of the surface of the desk slowly activate. The resulting pale green light illuminated the deputy’s face, and for a second, the man looked possessed.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“It looks like an office complex.” Symbols began appearing on the monitor, and Joseph started tapping on them with reckless abandon. “Maybe even a laboratory.”
“You think?” A new ball of string to play with, his focus shifted away from his lack of communication with Hoover and onto the mysterious desk. Without really thinking about it, Foster handed the 8-ball’s controls back to Justine. “How do you know?”
“Great.” She motioned to the deputy and his new obsession. But Foster didn’t even see her move, he just walked away like an entranced mummy. “Well, you guys stay here and fiddle around with that thing. And I’ll poke around and make sure we’re alone.”
She waited for some form of acknowledgment to her suggestion. When none came, she said. “Ok... see you in a few minutes.”
Having perfected a technique on level two that shielded most of the ball’s light and effectively turned the thing into a powerful spotlight. Repeating that process, Justine withdrew her Slinger then disappeared further into the room.
Once the shaft of light floated far enough away, Foster joined Joseph by the small cube-like desk. Together, they huddled over the machine and watched tightly packed symbols dance across the screen.
“What does it look like to you?” Joseph asked.
“How would I know. You’re the expert.” Nearby, the slightly on edge scientist noticed a small, upturned bench lying on the dirty floor. He flipped it over, dragged it over to the desk, then took a seat next to the deputy. “Do you recognize this language?”
“I don’t think it’s a language.” Unsure of their meaning, Joseph tapped the screen, trying to make the text move or enlarge. But no matter what he did, they didn’t respond. “They could be numbers. Maybe even equations. On my world, smarter Solons than me used similar systems to design ships.”
Upon hearing the word ‘design’, Foster’s ears immediately perked up. “Did you ever do that? Design ships?”
“I tried once, but the math was always too complicated for me. Besides,” He struck the bottom of the desk with his foot, and the screen instantly flickered off. “This machine is as old as Methuselah.”
“Methuselah,” Foster hadn’t heard that phrase since his mom took him to church way back in 1989. “Is there a lot of bible study happening on your planet?”
“No,” Joseph shot him a painful grin. “Book 23, my second wife was a Southern Baptist.”
“Ouch. Sorry about that. I’ve known a few Southern Baptists.” Foster searched the base of the desk for a power button or a reset switch. “That does bring up a good point though. I’m looking forward to seeing your original form. In the flesh, so to speak.”
“You and me both.” Joseph looked at Foster with a mixture of apprehension and excitement. “Though, sometimes I wonder if finding my body would even be worth it.”
“Really?” he sat up straight to look the alien in the eyes. “I don’t understand.”
Frustrated, he pushed away from the now defunct machine, and for the first time in a long time, he started to vent. “My people only last for two of your years, Foster. That means everyone I’ve ever known is dead. Their children are dead. Hell, their children’s children are probably dead.” He made the universal sign for around and around with his index finger. “Do you get the picture?”
“Then why try?” Foster subconsciously tugged at his satchel as the absence of Hoover incrementally weighed on his mind. “If you started taking care of yourself now, I bet you could squeeze another thirty years out of that body. Live a long life on Earth. Even put some more pictures over that fireplace.”
“I couldn’t imagine a bigger waste of time,” Joseph scoffed. “On my planet, the vessels and machinery we constructed allowed the universe to function. Compare that to the traffic control job I currently have. Why would I go back to your backward planet when I could do something meaningful again?”
“To be honest, I can’t think of a reason.” Foster envied such drive and passion for seeing things through. Those qualities seemed to come easy for men like Howlam and Mosley. Not so much for him. “So, what happens if we do find a way to put you back in your body? How will you get home?”
Knowing what he did about space stations, Joseph only smiled. “I would be more worried about me waking up hungry and eating your face off.”
“Really?” Foster stopped searching around the desk and stared at the deputy. “Does your species enjoy snacking on humans?”
Joseph arched his eyebrows then shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. There weren’t any humans on my planet. But if my experiences on your Earth are an indicator, I’m sure you’ll taste like chicken to me.”
Both men found themselves laughing at the idea of reenacting a cheesy science fiction movie here on this space station. However, as they continued to chuckle, Foster understood the severity of that statement, and he secretly felt glad that Justine was armed and very dangerous.
“What about you?” Joseph asked. “What do you hope to get out of all this?”
“If you would have asked me that a couple of days ago, I would have flat out told you I just wanted answers.” Around the base of the machine, Foster’s hand ran across a small seam in the casing. Intrigued, he pried his fingernails into the miniscule crevice and with a hard yank, tore a section free. “That’s what I do. I solve mysteries that come my way.”
“Speaking of coming your way. How did you find out about me, anyway?”
Foster laughed then proceeded to explore the desk’s inner workings. “Eight years ago, one of your little deliveries registered on a program I was running for the NSA.”
Head fully inside, he could see that the internal components of the desk consisted of a large motherboard containing seven randomly placed computer chips. Square, grey and squishy, these computer chips weren’t your average soldered pieces of metal. Instead, they looked like small sections of jellyfish wrapped in cellophane.
“Big and complicated, I worked under the delusion for years that this signal was just a message of impending doom. How was I supposed to know I had stumbled onto the radio backwash of an intergalactic transportation device?”
“A signal?” Joseph stared at Foster’s hunched back. “What do you mean a signal?”
“It was just a date. Turns out that whoever these arbiters are, they like to give their lackey’s plenty of notice.”
“Notice,” Joseph thought back to when the device activated a week ago to warn him of an incoming prisoner transfer. How in the hell could he have intercepted a signal that hadn’t even been sent yet? “That doesn’t make any sense. I didn’t even get a notification until this week.”
“Really?” Foster shifted his body around so he could dig deeper in the console. “Well, I’m not a relativity expert. But I would say it probably has something to do with the black hole.”
“Not a relativity expert.” Joseph leaned back on the bench and blew out an exasperated breath. “Still, even with that vague explanation, the odds of you ending up on my doorstep seems like a monumental, long shot.”
“Not seems like. It was a monumental, long shot. But did you really think you could beam down a couple of criminals to our planet and no one would notice?”
“I didn’t…” Joseph once again became visibly agitated by a reference to that show. “Beam anyone down here.”
“Well, someone did. And that someone cost me eight years of my life.” With no apparent means of power, Foster was at an impasse in his repair job. “Hoover!” He said, tapping his earpiece dramatically. “Hoover, I need you.”
Again, the comms line was eerily silent.
“You seem pretty attached to him. Why is that?”
Vividly harsh memories of his first year at Wilson assaulted his brain. The images of dozens and dozens of doctors passing judgment on his sanity tore at his soul in a way only Hoover would understand. That’s what made Hoover such a good…friend.
“Doesn’t everyone need someone to talk to when things aren’t going their way?”
Out of frustration, Foster flicked one of the jelly squares, and within a second, the board began to vibrate. Partly out of curiosity, but mostly out of anger, he hit it one more time. This last strike made the previously dormant screen flicker for a moment then die.
“What did you do?” Joseph asked excitedly. “This thing started working for a second.”
“Jump started it, I think. Hold on.” Taking them one by one, Foster slowly messaged each biological battery pack until the screen lit up everything around them. He replaced the panel then pulled himself back onto the bench. “That should keep the thing running for a while. So, what have we got?”
Enthralled, Foster and Joseph paid little attention to anything else, especially the bright light quickly cutting a swath back to their position.
“Guys,” her voice called out from the darkness with some urgency. “I have something you’ve got to see.”
Having cleared most of the surrounding area for any potential goo monsters, Justine had come across something unusual near the middle of level 3. She wanted a professional opinion, hence the speed. But instead of acknowledging her simple request, the two men ignored her completely. They were too busy with their latest toy to answer.
“Just place your hand on the pad right below the screen.” The deputy explained after wiping the monitor clean with his bare hand. “It should respond right away.”
Without question, Foster placed his right palm on the space Joseph had indicated. Nothing happened.
“Try both hands,” he offered after the mountain of symbols remained frozen. “You know, on the larger generational ships, school children use a similar device for their homework. But like everything else in this place, it’s old. It would be like a kid on Earth doing calculus with an abacus.”
“It’s hard to believe aliens do homework.”
“Another universal truth, Foster. Being a kid sucks everywhere.”
Foster placed his other hand on the pad like he was instructed and waited for the machine to react. While waiting, he looked at Joseph. “Even your childhood?”
Joseph smiled at the ill-conceived remark. “Two years… remember? On the Forge, there is no time for a childhood.”
Foster sighed, both at his misstep with Joseph and because the machine wasn’t responding to his touch. Where the hell was Justine and his 8-ball? He was about to call out for her when out of nowhere, a jagged piece of metal went sailing past his head at a dangerously lethal velocity. Instinctively, he jerked back so hard he fell off the small bench and flat on his ass.
“Justine!” Foster bellowed over Joseph’s laughter. “What the hell was that for?”
“That was for ignoring me.” She shook her Slinger in his direction in a threatening manner. “I’ve been yelling for you guys for the past five minutes. You’re lucky I didn’t use this to get your attention.”
“So, what’s the problem?” Foster said, righting himself back on to his seat.
“Like I said, there’s something I want the two of you to look at.”
