One Way

by Ahbleza, v1.2
Karine was the last to climb sleepily out of her freezer, the muscles of her legs aching, as the
last fragments of her silver skin flaked away. This had been her final coldsleep before they
reached the Farstar. The other kids were already in the showers, enjoying the brief freedom
of skin before suiting up again. The radiation paintskin was a very dark black, with occasional
silver flecks of nanocircuitry adding a sheen to the curved shapes of her friends and colleagues.
It was more comfortable than the coldsleep skin, which made sense, since they were mostly
unconscious while wearing the silver. In the black, they had a better chance of being protected
from the worst of the radiation that the ship’s Em shields couldn’t handle.

Each time she emerged from coldsleep, Karine wondered if she had dreamed. The ship told
her it wasn’t possible, but her imagination seemed to come up with strange scenarios which had
the flavour of dream, usually emerging over the weeks to follow.

Karine was also one of the last to be raised by the Nannies, and was therefore the youngest.
The Nannies were the ubiquitous robot units, that helped fill the empty corridors of the ship.
They varied from small maintenance drones, through the Dotoressa models which had raised
them from birth and taught them in school, to the lumbering earthmovers, which would help
them when they arrived to terraform their new home.

Her latent talent was yet to fully develop, but she sometimes showed flashes of brilliance in the
simulations, which brought her admiration, and not a little jealousy. She wondered about the
lives of those who had donated their eggs and sperm, all those centuries ago. Did they also
have the same dreams? Would they recognize Karine and her cousins and friends?

The ship had been launched many centuries ago, according to the Nannies, but they were
evasive on details. To them, days, months or decades were all the same. The Nannies were
constantly cleaning, repairing, testing and checking the tens of thousands of systems on the
ship. Occasionally, one could be found teaching a refresher class, in civics, psychology, justice
or biology. Some of her cousins were doing advanced studies in engineering, medicine or
law, until the Nannies were satisfied they could meet the exacting standards defined by the
progenitors. They only knew that in six months, they would reach their destination -- one they
had renamed New Hope.

They didn’t know much about the progenitors on a personal level. Well, of course they learned
the history of Earth, its wars and arts, its popular culture and its horrible failures. Hundreds
of years of pollution, the ravages of nuclear and chemical wars, the failure of weather and
environmental control, had all toxified their planet, and the eco-crashes had got a lot worse
before they launched the Ark Project.

The concept was simple. Humanity had poisoned its nest. Survival of the species was the
highest imperative, brooking no possible opposition nor counter-argument. Once the last
resistance by the Muslim-Christian millenialists had been viciously suppressed, everyone
surviving agreed this was the only possible option for the future of our species. Lack of
FTL technology meant that any journey to a nearby star would take hundreds, possibly
thousands of years. The only possible way that humans could make that journey would be as
a seedship. Flying 99% of the distance under fully automated AI control, with a host of Nanny
servitors taking care of routine repairs, the final 1% of the way would need living humans to be
germinated from the fertilized eggs stored deep within the thousand biotech wombs of the ship,
carved into the belly of a small asteroid.

To be viable, the DNA samples had to be highly varied, with the best of the best selected for
physical, mental and adaptive capability. The donor parents were screened and matched, and
samples were given, and taken deep within the mechanical mothers. According to the plan,
when they were twenty years from their destination, decelerating at one sixth G, the germination
would begin, and a thousand human babies would be raised, born in batches into a world of
gleaming chrome, curved walls and reduced gravity. Due to the massive size of their ship,
spinning it to achieve gravity wasn’t really an option. They had to rely on their decelerating
engines to maintain a fraction of Earth’s normal gravity, which meant that the growing children
had to be forced into machines of elegant yet brutal efficiency, straining and shaping their
growing bodies and subjecting them to terrible pains, to reach a nominal 80% of Earth normal
physique and strength.

The machines also had to shape young minds. Comforting them in the night, cleaning and
calming, and well as the subtler task of instilling language, reason and order into the growing
brains, was left to the dozens of AI clusters, which had been imprinted with copies of the minds
of the genetic parents -- already dead these hundreds of years.

Karine often wondered about her progenitors -- the parents she would never meet. The
ship would not allow them to access any personal messages, and all the details of who the
progenitors were as individuals had been locked behind layers of encryption none of them
knew how to crack. She had watched all the movies, the stories of great personal sacrifice and
thrilling innovation, as the very best of humanity came together in a massive effort, to build the
Ark.

This was the only home she had ever known. She finished her shower, then grimaced as the
black slime nozzles glooped paintskin onto her body, working it deeply into her hair, and tickling
within her ears. The itching as it dried was the worst part, but she knew how important it was
to protecting her cells -- and especially her ova -- from genetic damage. Her body--her eggs,
and those of hundreds of her siblings and friends--carried the sole hope of humanity into the
indifferent void between stars.

Interstellar space was a pretty dangerous place. They were on the way to Gliese 581g, a rocky
planet orbiting a small red-dwarf sun nearly 20.5 light years away from Earth. This was the
ultimate Hail Mary pass, an attempt to poke Death in the eye when it came for … everyone.
Karine shivered, but not from cold. Again, the sheer weight of their mission fell on her like lead
onto cold snow.

Zhou always seemed cheerful when he talked about the importance of their journey, and the
admirable foresight their ancestors had in providing everything they would need for the new
world, but for her it was a constant sense of terrible dread, that infiltrated her dreams, and
sometimes caused her to wake up sobbing, while he held her close in their small bed chamber.

Thinking of Zhou’s relentless happiness made her smile, and her mood lightened. He was
obsessing again about the latest bio-modifications he had made to the genetic sequences of
the wheat plants, which he was growing under the reddish light they expected to find on Gliese-
Earth. His training as a botanist had begun soon after he could talk and read, like all the others.
During a boring week two years ago, he had started sorting through the records of crop varieties
that the Nannies had produced during their decades-long journey. It was a massive experiment
in altering growing conditions, trying to anticipate all the possible soil types, acidity, nitrogen
sources and microbial flora, seeking variations that might increase their chances for survival.

Actually, as Zhou explained it to her, the microbes were the most important part of making
plants grow. The endophytic bacteria were essential to keeping the plant healthy, and adapting
the bacteria to the possible extremes they would find on their new home was vital to the
success of their mission. The Nannies had faithfully maintained huge tanks with hundreds of
thousands of varieties of bacteria which they might need, capturing a tiny sliver of Earth’s now
lost bio-diversity.

Life on board now was settling down, after the horror of the previous years. The experience
of a thousand children, growing up in an artificial worldlet, trillions of kilometers from the
home world they never knew, had led to severe mental and emotional damage, especially
among the earliest to emerge from the womb-tanks. Some of them had never recovered. She
could remember whispers among the older kids when she was very young, and screaming.
Something bad had happened to a few of them. There were lots of rumours, but the older kids
went stone-faced when asked about it, and the younger batches were left free to speculate.

Everyone knew that their little microcosm was all that was left of Earth, and this led to terrific
psychological pressure. Some handled it well, like Zhou, and she loved him for that. Most
of the others were moody, and some violent, but they channeled this into the Sports day,
which usually gave plenty of opportunities for the medical trainees to practice their skills on
(usually) not so serious injuries, with the more complex surgeries being supervised by one of
the Nannies.

Zhou had woken up this morning, excited by some anomaly in the expected genetic drift. He’d
been charting the allele frequency changes, but couldn’t fit them into the usual models. The
changes had been much more rapid than he expected, and so far his best theory was increased
mutation rate due to the higher radiation levels, but something didn’t quite add up.

“Look, Karine, this simply has to fit.”

His small precise hands slid over the haptic surface of his slate, showing the curves of the
expected versus actual.

“Even correcting for induced radiation, I just don’t see how the allele drift rate was achieved.
Also, none of the bio-assays showed any radiolytic by-products, which you’d expect. The
Desulfotomaculum levels weren’t high enough -- they’re the new bacteria which take energy
from the isotopes.”

Karine stretched under the thin silk sheet, her skin barely feeling the touch due to her radskin.
She yawned, smiling as she reached under the covers to begin the process of distracting him.

“You know I don’t understand any of that biology. Why is this important to you?”

She squeezed gently, and was rewarded with an involuntary twitch that moved his body closer
to hers, and brought a slight smile to his lips.

“I just have to know how things work, is all.”

He twitched again.

“Alright Karine, you win. Distraction complete!”

-----

Thomé was worried. Despite the constant air conditioning, sweat was still pouring off his body.
His paintskin had been abraded where it wasn’t covered by the air-tight coveralls, and his heavy
boots were white with dust. The large drill he carried over his shoulder was scratched and
pitted, and the tools at his belt jangled nervously as he walked out of the access corridor. He
knew the Nannies had seen him, but the interlocks he’d jimmied seemed to inhibit them from
interrogating him, at least for now.

The consequences of what he had seen, what he had done... it was like a black wolf, gnawing
at his stomach. He dreaded to discover what would happen if the wolf escaped. He had trained
as a miner and geologist, and was keen to practice core sampling. A few weeks ago, he had
found a remote access corridor which he figured might bring him close to the thick rocky walls
of the ship. Based on the design videos, everyone knew the ship had been constructed in orbit
from a hollowed-out S-type asteroid, a half-kilometer potato of rock shaped from the remains of
Dactyl. It used to orbit a much larger asteroid, until it was captured and brought into close orbit
of Earth’s moon, the staging point for the greatest construction project in human history.

After the moon colony had been established, industrial automation built the powerful engines
required to accelerate Dactyl to nearly one tenth of the speed of light (although at one sixth of
a G, this took many years.) They had to hollow out the stony core of the asteroid, to make the
living space, and used the hundreds of meters of rock as a natural shield against some of the
worst of the expected inter-stellar radiation.

Thomé wanted core samples of some of that rock, so he could work through a real core assay,
rather than simply running simulations. He had worked patiently for days, learning to bypass
the safety interlocks, tearing down steel and lead interior panels in the maintenance corridor,
until finally he was able to reach the living rock of their ship’s exterior. Working feverishly, and
marveling at the extreme heat (which he had half expected due to the insulating nature of the
rock), he had pulled several deep cores, one after another. Each one left him shocked by what
he found.

He’d expected to see a standard asteroidal regolith, perhaps with signs of the tunneling and
sealing process used by the Progenitors who had constructed their home. Instead, what he
saw was consistent with basalt bedrock, with possible indicators of volcanic activity. This was
deeply shocking. An object the size of Dactyl, or even its former parent Ida, simply couldn’t
generate enough heat internally to support vulcanism. Perhaps a planetoid impact might have
liquefied the rock, but another explanation was presenting itself to his befuddled mind. After the
first dozen cores all showed the same finding, Thomé found other locations to sample, hopefully
far from the possible crater site -- but they all gave the same results.

He didn’t know whom he should tell about this. The sense of dread started again to close in
around him, and his breathing grew shallow, even under the weight of his samples and tools.
He’d seen pictures of such basaltic lava flows before -- deep within rilles on the lunar surface.
Unless he was wrong -- they weren’t hurtling through space inside a titanic hollow asteroid --
they were still on the moon.

----

“We’re being lied to.”

Zhou was eating breakfast in the yellow section servery, staring intently at Karine across the
table.

“Don’t joke around, Zhou.”

“This isn’t a joke. Somehow, the records that I found of the wheat experiments.... that can’t be
true.”

“The Nannies have never lied to us. Well, not when we stopped being children, anyway...”

“Telling popular myths and ghost stories isn’t what I mean, Karine. This is about hard, scientific
fact. Supposedly, the Nannies spent decades repeating similar experiments with the wheat and
spelt crops, altering conditions and keeping meticulous records. But the results they show... I
can’t see how it’s possible to achieve them in the time available.”
Karine shifted uncomfortably on her chair.

“Alright, I grant you this is your expertise area... but what about alternate explanations?
Increased mutations from radiation leakage? Chemical contamination? Experimental error?”

Zhou shook his head.

“Nothing I can think of explains this discrepancy. It’s not a mistake. The findings in the
experimental data have been systematically falsified.”

Thomé walked in, a tray of food in his hand. He spotted Zhou, and came over, limping slightly.

“What are you two so morose about?” He sat down next to Karine, briefly touching her
shoulder as he passed by. He nodded at Zhou across the table, who nodded back.

“Zhou has been telling me about some strange results... the timing of research done by the
Nannies doesn’t match what you’d expect. How are you?”, she asked.

Thomé leaned over and kissed her on the mouth.

“I’m good. But I’ve seen something which is very disturbing. We need to talk, but not here.
Let’s meet in your room after the end of our shifts.”

----

Later that evening, the three of them were together in bed, with Karine in the middle. She
swapped positions, so she could look at both her guys simultaneously.

“OK Thomé, what’s been happening? Why didn’t you come to bed last night?”

Briefly, he explained the work he’d been doing in the core samples, concluding with his theory
about still being on the moon.

“That’s crazy talk,” said Zhou. “They must have buffered the construction with lunar regolith, or
a special lining of rock to improve the shielding.”

Thomé shook his head. “I can’t think of any reason why they might do that. There’s plenty of
rock on Dactyl, with more than enough density to shield us. And the lift payload from the lunar
surface would make it impossible to …”

“Wait,” said Karine. “Why would they lie about that? It can’t be true. I mean...” He voice
trailed off, becoming small and plaintive.
“Im pretty sure they lied about some things,” said Zhou. “Why wouldn’t they lie about this too?”

“But... if this is true, then our whole journey is...”

“I know”, frowned Thomé. “We have to talk to the others tomorrow.”

A cold despair seeped into the room, washing over the three friends as they lapsed into silence.
Later that night, Thomé could feel Karine softly weeping in his arms, while Zhou huddled alone,
in the edge of their bed. Unable to sleep, Thomé simply waited, counting his breaths as the
three of them approached the inevitable dawn.

----

Rumour and a hunger for news had brought nearly everyone to the main auditorium. Angry
groups had started shouting in one corner, and everyone noticed that the Nannies had made
themselves scarce.

The three of them stood on a table, and silence fell.

Karine spoke first, as she was the best known of the three friends. She introduced Zhou and
Thomé, emphasizing the trust she had in them both, and how much she loved them both.

“Please.... listen carefully to what they have to say. We might be facing some tough decisions if
this is true.”

Zhou began talking about the discrepancies he’d seen in the data. He summarized his
thoughts, suggesting that the numbers had been faked, but didn’t speculate on why. In short:
he didn’t trust the Nannies -- or at least, the data which the Nannies had been programmed
with, since they denied any knowledge of a problem.

Thomé took over, and displayed the core samples he had taken. The detailed images and
supporting data appeared over his head, as well as on the slates of those who wanted to
analyse it further.

As he spoke, presenting his findings in a calm and clinical manner, a murmuring began around
the hall. As more people started to realize the implications, the mood in the place shifted, and in
one corner could be heard a quiet sobbing.

His final words hit with the force of a planetary impact. If his findings were true, if the Nannies
had indeed been lying -- or lied to -- then something was seriously wrong. Were they all living
inside a lie? Did this ship--or rather, this *simulation* of a ship--exist solely on the surface of the
Moon?

Everyone in the room was less than twenty years old, but several of them looked as though they
had aged a decade in the past half hour. The meeting had broken up, with some running away
sobbing, while others formed groups that shouted at each other.

A tight cluster of people surrounded Karine, with Thomé and Zhou standing protectively behind
her shoulders. She spoke now, accorded a special respect as the youngest of them all.

“As some of you know, I am being trained as a Landing Pilot. I’ve spent the past twelve years,
running simulation after simulation, learning the theory of flight, practising, dreaming and
breathing flying. I’ve piloted dozens of craft in orbital insertions and successfully completed
hundreds of re-entries, and I’ve sat for hours at the controls of the shuttles in the main hangar,
dreaming, hoping, wishing to be the first to fly down to our new home.

“But those dreams have now ended. If this is all true--and I believe we have evidence that it is--
then we are no longer on an interstellar journey. We never were. It was just a giant lie.

“I don’t think the perilous state of Earth was part of that lie. We’ve all seen the movies, the
documentaries, the e-Books that described the terrible decimation of our biosphere, the mass
starvation in Africa and Asia, and the wars that were fought over water and arable land. There
was no choice.

“But we have a choice. We can’t pretend this never happened, but we can complete our
mission. Earlier today, I was seated in the Pilot chair of the primary shuttle, when a subprogram
activated. A woman’s image appeared, a recording that was extremely old, as was the woman
herself. She explained, in a clear and patient manner, that the Ark Project failed.

“The mission to collect the asteroid never got funding. All the resources available were diverted
to bringing the elite from Earth up to the moonbase, so that they could live their final few
hundred years in luxury and decadence, and to hell with the rest.

“Before the final decision was taken, one of the steps our forebears took was to set up this
giant simulation, the one in which we are living. It’s not virtual, like so many of our simulations.
Those shuttles in the hangar really can fly, and we started life being thawed from frozen
embryos deep within mechanical wombs, and lived our lives here, being educated by the
Nannies.

“What were we? A test. A dry run. A means for the ruling elite to validate that such a scenario
could indeed work. The woman--she called herself Maya--said that many of the elite never
intended to commit to the next phase of the project, the construction of the Ark, and that the
creation of this fake Ark was justified as a morale booster for those who believed that humanity
had a future.

“Fortunately, Maya and some of her friends did believe in a future, and formed a cabal, a secret
group working behind the scenes to do whatever they could to ensure our survival. And this is
what they did.
“The dry-run of the Ark was intended to run for no more than twenty-two years. The elite
had rigged the data to make it appear that we had journeyed for hundreds of years, and then
intended to watch the emergence, as we started our own part of the journey. We were to
be watched, observed through secret channels (unknown even to the Nannies), as a kind of
perverted entertainment. It was a gigantic, horrible nightmare of a joke. We were to grow up,
believing that we were the vanguard of humanity’s renaissance on a new world, only to be
confronted with the horror of extinction and the end of a journey we never made, on a lifeless
Moon orbiting our dying world. We were to be -- their entertainment. The greatest and last
show on Earth.

“They could be watching us now.

“But they are not. Maya and her friends sabotaged the plan. They put in place special
contingencies and hidden trapdoors, which subverted the control systems of our seedship
core, and gave us a remarkable gift. When we arrive at the end of our virtual journey, in half a
year’s time, when the simulation ends, the doors will open. Thinking we would be orbiting our
destination, we were to walk out into an abandoned moonbase, occupied only by automated
caretaking systems and the memories of ghosts.

“Maya changed the plan. Instead of freezing us for a couple of years, while the techs prepared
all of the data for the simulation run, we slept for more then ten thousand years. According to
Maya, this should be enough time for Earth’s biosphere to recover from the damage which we
caused, at least the worst of it.”

Karine stepped forward, flanked by Thomé and Zhou, each supporting and holding her upright,
as she trembled with emotion, tears welling unbidden in her eyes.

“We can fly down to the surface, and begin the recolonization of Earth. Maya and her friends
have given us a second chance. We’re going home.”

END