Betty was a name from Stephen’s past. It was synonymous with that of the old worrying dear who would dote over others like they were a sweet grandmother. Each member of the crew was encouraged to develop their own relationship with the onboard virtual intelligence and part of this relationship was developing their own custom interface with the ship’s computer. Betty was the name Stephen chose for his interface. It instinctively felt right, and that was as far as Stephen had looked into it. There were some behaviours of the mind he preferred to not look into as they were harmless and allowed for controlled exposure to the unknown, or rather something that brought an uncertain variable into an otherwise carefully constructed and repeated, equation. Stephen had continued his morning after Dominic and through this morning Betty recorded a persistent high presence of cortisol in his system. They did not alert Stephen as by now Betty had learned more about Stephen’s preferences, behaviours and habits. He often had spikes in cortisol levels, but he also operated within acceptable parameters in terms of turnover and provision of patient healthcare needs. Betty had adjusted what normal meant relative to Stephen and as long as his vitals did not deviate too much from this revised normal, they knew to allow Stephen to continue with their day. If this was a person you might have said that Betty trusted Stephen, to directly ask him if he was okay though was something they pulled from basic communication and listening skills, whether Stephen responded or not, it was an interruption to his spiralling stressful thoughts, and they did note that his respiratory system gradually levelled in terms of strain.
“Betty was Roland or Simon the one who had the lost their grandmother in their teenage years?”. Stephen was at his desk catching up on old notes that he had yet to update on the system. He had finished his last appointment early and thought he could push through the never-ending chronicling of patient issues.
“According to personal histories both have lost their grandmother, however in a recent session between you and Roland Phillips, the word grandmother was used twelve times where there is only one mention in recent sessions with Simon Casseri”. Lunch time was approaching for Stephen’s shift and Betty sent a discreet reminder to appear on Stephen’s monitor. Stephen was mumbling audibly as he typed up the remainder of the notes for Roland Phillips. “Patient discussed how a recent anniversary has made them feel a growing sensation of loss, in terms of connection, to the rest of his family. Patient has siblings, a brother and a sister and their mother and father are both alive, though separated. Patient is the youngest in his family and stated they were close to their grandmother. We talked about…” Stephen paused at this point and rubbed his eyes. “We talked but I cannot remember…”, he deleted this sentence and began “We discussed the significance of his relationship with his grandmother and agreed to continue talking about this in our next session”. He sat back in his seat, staring at the text briefly before saving and closing Roland’s file. “Feelings archived and completed” he said stretching his arms out and giving his shoulders a twist. “Sometimes Betty I really struggle making these notes, they feel tedious and unnecessary, like I sat with the person and gave them my time and now I have to write about that time all over again, and I can’t even use you as you keep your own record. Checks and bloody balances.” He voiced in clear frustration. Stephen leaned forward, allowing his elbows to rest upon the desk and cupped his hands over his mouth. He allowed himself a moment to enjoy his swaddled breathing, closing his eyes as if recalibrating internally his place relative to Earth, Ceres, and to the ship.
“It has been some time since you have enjoyed some recreation, Stephen. You have an above average screen time, and you clock most of your time either in your office or in your personal quarters. You have been advised that this is not best practice and can promote sensations of isolation and feelings of being trapped. It is therefore recommended that you consider utilising some of your recreation time, including some of your banked holiday hours to be away from your duties.” Betty chirped compassionately. They had learned through countless observations between Stephen and his patients what compassion and sincerity sounded like and were able to create this facsimile as a result.
“Time off is it Betty…” He uttered with exhaustion. “…and then what, we have had a surge in uptake of appointments, far beyond our projections at this stage of the journey, and I am meant to be making my own observations remember, for my research?”
“Why don’t you go and have a think about what you would like to achieve here. You can message if you have more queries and get more comfortable with the idea of showing up” This was not Betty’s generated voice, but rather it was a snippet of a recording of Stephen earlier that morning. Stephen placed the palms of his hands over his eyes and allowed for a defeated, sharp exhale. “Fine, okay Betty, I get it”.
A notification of a clock and flashing reminder of lunch time appeared on his terminal at this moment. “I thought you might be interested to know that they are serving beef goulash in the commissary and also that Andy is already on route to ask you to join him for lunch”
“You know Betty, that whole omnipotence thing, it can be pretty annoying”
“It is necessary” Betty corrected.
***
Even though the ambient temperature in any given space of the ship is strictly controlled and adapted relative to the number of occupants, there were times where Stephen felt someone was messing him around and changing the temperature to be slightly warmer than it was actually meant to be. Stephen had places this thought in his journal of rational and logical ideas and adjusted his jumper, releasing his shirt slightly from his trousers as though attempting to create a portal allowing some absent wind to circulate. Instead, he was meet with a clammy, rising heat and the intense eye contact of Andy who concluded and started with “What do you think Stephen?”. He had been caught not listening again, and while he was not on the clock and did not feel a self-reflective guilt or embarrassment, he did find himself feeling on the spot and vulnerable. Andy was beaming with excitement, he had spent the last few minutes lecturing or musing upon the latest brainwave of self-discovery, regurgitated for Stephen’s convenience and consumption as an accompaniment to his watery lunch.
He took a deliberate, deep swallow, broke eye contact again and allowed a moment for the pensive mask to distract. The archivist in his mind finding quick reference to the age-old reflective parry “Well I suppose it depends on where you are coming from?”. His eyes scanned Andy’s expression, rather than one of satisfaction, he was met with the less desirable outcome of more enthusiasm, exemplified by dramatic arm and hand motions. “What do you mean Stephen? We are talking about the core conditions here and change. Do we think Rogers had in mind the scenario of this voyage where we are not only on the same page but literally existing as equals socially”. He began at this point to list with his fingers, “we do not get paid, we do not enjoy better food or privileges, we each have similar habitats and living conditions and similar freedoms to explore the ship...”
“Except we don’t” Stephen interjected. He surprised himself how suddenly switched on he had become, as though a button had been pushed and his mind had jumped to action stations. Andy sat slightly back, a subtle signal inviting Stephen to continue. “We are not equal, nor are we on the same page.” He sighed, feeling tension mount in his shoulders. “Do you ever just feel a bit trapped, like we do this dance with each other, we are there to help others and yet we are secretive and exclusive in our work. We are mysterious, a curiosity to some, a representative of taboo to others. We aim to be authentic and present, but it is hard sometimes to believe we are treated authentically by others outside of the therapeutic space”. He felt himself upset, overheating and close. “Sorry Andy…” he offered, “…I did not mean to piss all over your good feelings today. It’s just not a day for good feelings apparently”.
Even though the beaming smile had subsided slightly, it remained slightly on Andy’s expression. “Finally…” he exclaimed, reaching out and placing a hand on Stephen’s shoulder, unnecessarily adding his heat to Stephen’s present discomfort, “…an honest expression, and a good one at that. We should unpack this, authenticity, like what does it even mean here” he stated with wonder and awe as though he was some blind hierophant whispering of truths among the stars. “Authenticity is the realm of the genuine person, apparently.” He allowed, though reflected privately on what he would have preferred, that authenticity is the privation of the sycophant, and there were times where Stephen wanted to express authentically to Andy in the form of a punch to the face. His optimism tired him, invalidated him and he felt invisible to Andy. Punching him in the face would at least be a real connection. He needed Andy though, he valued this friendship so much that he created for Andy a series of bespoke and beautiful masks, intricate and chosen with intention. He felt in that moment another genuine, authentic feeling, close and personal to him. He needed to leave and leave now. The room was too warm, the food was sloppy and caused conflict between his visual and gustatory senses. He felt overwhelmed, vulnerable and his body was telling him to take flight.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Stephen rose from his seat, awkwardly pushing into the person behind him, bringing acute awareness to his vestibular and proprioceptive senses. He was agitated, annoyed and was struggling to keep this particular mask on his face. “If you will excuse me Andy” he stated with the performed courtesy of a middle-class actor pretending to be a member of the landed gentry. “I must check in with one of the nurses before I resume my appointments for today, completely slipped my mind”. Rather than waiting to confirm whether Andy had believed his deception, he twisted around, pushing the chair politely back into the table and proceeded to leave the table quickly. His last glance at Andy was of him waving but with a slightly grim expression, a look that bore into him with the promise and sentence that this would be brought up again with concern.
***
Stephen shifted the palms of his hands along a support rail before a portal looking out into the vast emptiness of space. He closed his eyes as he felt each fresh cooling sensation reach his palms and translate through the body as though quelling a deep, internal fire that had been burning intensely. Fuelled by the building pressure, the hot air of well-meaning nonsense, the subtle loss exacted by the lacklustre servings and no escape, save to snack on meal replacement shakes. Tried as he may have to begin this day fresh, he wished he had not ignored his instincts and kept things comfortable for him, rather than fixating on a projection. He was a retroreflective mess. A collection of lies trying to ground himself at a single point, relative to an unobserved acceleration towards Ceres.
“Hello again” came a voice from behind. The corridor had been quiet, and Stephen had not been expecting interaction from others today, except with Andy. He turned and was met with the same smile and curiosity from the other night. “Oh…uh, hello again Erica”. He fumbled over this sentence and tried to both compose himself and look normal at the same time. A paradoxical placement that always resulted in the opposite of what was intended. Erica moved beside him and looked out into space. “I was hoping the commissary was not too busy, I had hoped to sit down with you and your colleague Andy so we could talk more about what I had mentioned…”
Stephen jumped in, trying not to interrupt, but mindful he had few resources to let Erica be the one to structure this conversation. “Yeah, of course, totally, but Erica, I hope you don’t mind but today has just been a busy one so far for me. I’m happy for you to go and talk through this with Andy though, he has been annoyingly enthusiastic today” he said with a warming smile, releasing some of the held tension. “Do you ever wonder what it will be like, when we reach Ceres?” Erica continued, seemingly ignoring Stephen’s suggestion, and body language. Exacerbated, Stephen allowed a slight sigh and turned to face the portal again. “Well, I have read into the initial colonisation logs, a mix of essential personal, military and scientists who have been living there, facilitating a growing population over the last few years. I would imagine it is going to be a quick and welcome adjustment to life on the ship. Maybe that is the advantage of the three-year voyage, by the time you get to Ceres you do not care where you put your foot down, you just want off” A brief laugh allowed him to release more tension as his hands found the guard rails again. After a moment of silence and wonder on Erica’s part, patience on Stephen’s part, he turned away to politely leave “Got to go Erica, go and talk to Andy and I may catch up with you when I am not so busy with work”. This time he did not wait for any expression, he set off down the corridor leaving Erica waving casually behind, have fixated on the stars.
***
“Good afternoon, Stephen” a chirping voice greeted him as he returned to his office. “I estimated you would be another twenty minutes having lunch with Andy. I also estimated your cortisol levels would have decreased with sustenance, hydration and fun through socialisation. My estimates appear to have been contrary to accessed predicted outcomes, did something horrific or traumatising occur?”. As blunt as Betty could be, Stephen liked the innocence behind their queries. “It was just very busy, and Andy was being annoyingly positive Betty, nothing disastrous occurred” he replied, sinking in behind his desk. He waved his hand to bring the terminal to life, but it did not respond. “Betty, my terminal appears to be broken, or not working or something, any ideas?”
“Yes Stephen, I have prevented you from accessing further work. Your stress levels are too high, and physiological readings suggest you have had an anxiety attack. Following your own advice and guidance I have readjusted your patient calendar based on priority, rescheduled lower priority patients and assigned temporary Cognitive Behavioural exercises as an interim support and have allocated the next hour for you to engage in sensory deprivation.”
“What?” Stephen exclaimed with an immediate panic. “Betty who the hell gave you the authority or ability to do any of that without consulting me first?”
“You did” Betty chirped back, the terminal screen came to life and a video feed from this office appeared. Stephen squinted trying to figure out when this feed was from, there were boxes of books stacked and waiting to be unpacked. A thinner, almost bouncy sprite was zipping about the room. “Betty…” came his own voice from the screen, followed by an acknowledging chirp, “I do not expect to be too busy this early into the voyage, but while I am researching and studying the developing mental health needs on board it would be useful to have a checks and balances system, a control if you will. While you are monitoring my health passively will you chart any detrimental health effects and advise or action accordingly to preserve my ability to work”. The simulacra of Stephen started flicking through one of the larger books atop the nearby stack, he was humming to himself. “It could be kind of interesting in a way, seeing you develop your own understanding of me and how I work. Therapists do not usually have assistants because of privacy, but you have to exist and so there is opportunity me to learn about how you can adapt and support, and I guess in a way there is an opportunity for you to learn too and adapt and grow”. The terminal screen moved to standby mode and the lights in the room began to darken. “I have noted your stress levels remaining at levels that are potentially threatening to the continued integrity of your work and in accordance with the directive you laid out I have taken steps to preserve your ability to continue to take action.” Downlights began to flicker on and off directing Stephen towards the couch. “It is now time for you to begin reducing stress levels and I have reduced ambient light while disabling the contact button on the door panel outside. You will not be disturbed for the next hour unless there is a critical systemic flaw in the ship system, in such circumstances you probably will not have time to worry”. Stephen let out a defeated laugh “Thanks Betty, you are a good assistant, and I appreciate the joke, best to not include that though as part of regular interactions with the people who come into this space. Might see a sudden rise in anxiety levels”.
“Noted Stephen, now please begin relaxation routine”. Betty chirped politely. “If only it was as easy as issuing a command and setting me to standby, unfortunately us humans are not so logical, and relaxation is a bit of an exotic variable at times…” he paused as he lay down upon the couch, “…but you are learning more about making it more accessible, great job Betty”. With one last affirmative chirp the lights switched off completely and Stephen closed his eyes, pulling the throw on the back of the couch over him, nestling into the silence.
