Mark McGinnis - The Simpleton

Jackie said, “Don’t you do it, Cuddy. The only reason we’re still breathing is because he doesn’t have what he’s looking for yet.”

The alien’s eyes flared with anger. He bared his teeth and roared over his shoulder in Jackie’s direction, then spun back again. “You are called Cuddy… tell me, Cuddy, do you not want to go free? All go free? Do you, Cuddy?” Then, using a clawed furry hand, he scratched himself on the neck and Cuddy momentarily caught movement that looked like small insects scurrying around in the matted fur.

Holg then brought the same extended claw forward to rest on Cuddy’s cheek, and as he applied increased downward pressure, Cuddy felt his face begin to bleed.

The orb arrived outside the ship ten minutes earlier. Apparently, one of its articulating arms was still somewhat operational. Enough so, that it was capable of dragging itself around. The Evermore ’s proximity alarm twirped twice—letting Tow know that there was outer movement, of some sort, approaching. Checking the bridge viewscape display, he saw the AI orb, lying outside the ship.

Opening the hatch and finding the orb there, obviously struggling, Tow felt both relief and deep concern. He hurried. Lifting the orb into his arms, he carried it back inside the ship. Earlier, he had feared the worst, witnessing the dreaded arrival of the Howsh spaceship. Soon after that, he lost mental contact with the orb and had to struggle with the prospect that the AI orb had been destroyed. Also, more than likely, the human, Cuddy, had been killed as well. And with that, all hope for his kind—the Pashier— would be forever gone. In the end, Tow’s presence on Earth had only brought catastrophe.

Now, with a glimmer of hope rekindled, Tow carried the AI orb directly to a small, lower deck workshop, setting it down carefully on the bench. As much as the orb had become an annoyance over past months—years—he was surprised at the sadness he felt. For such a long time now, there’d only been the two of them, and he instinctively knew he wouldn’t have made it this far all alone.

Tow took in the orb’s multiple blackened scorch marks, resulting from Howsh plasma fire. Opening the small access panel on the underside of the orb, Tow noted there was little he’d be able to do since it was clearly evident much of the orb’s mechanical functionality was severely damaged. Damaged, he could see, beyond repair. He exhaled a long breath. Moving slowly, and coughing continuously, Tow—leaving the orb lying on the bench—left the small workshop area. He moved aft and entered the second of two hold compartments. He knew exactly where to go; knew where everything on the ship could be found. His eyes scanned the many rows of deck-to-ceiling shelving, before he turned down and walked between the sixth and seventh set of shelves. Halfway down the row on the left, at eye level, he found exactly what he was seeking—twelve new, pristine, AI orb units. Each had two articulating arms—folded up and strapped down for optimal storage. Tow arbitrarily selected one. Pulling it off the shelf, he studied the inanimate object now lying in his hands.

Back again in his small workshop, Tow set the new AI orb unit next to the battered older one. He was somewhat familiar with the mechanics of transferring one orb’s set of dynamic-gel-tabs —brains and memory plus a complete set of system interface components—into another unit. Typically, that type of technical work would be assigned to an orb to perform, but that was no longer an option. The trick was to ensure that the old gel-tabs didn’t get compromised during the procedure’s transfer. Gel-tabs, highly sensitive, were, in a sense, living organisms, possessing trillions upon trillions of firing synapses and active neurotransmitters. Much like those found in an actual organic brain—but with far more speed and capacity. It also explained why these hovering AI units took on, to some degree, a personality of their own. Tow wasn’t at all sure that was a good thing. He briefly wondered if the older unit’s gel-tabs were still salvageable… worth the trouble. There were new, unused ones, still back in the storage hold. No… he would try to salvage these.

He clipped off the shipping straps and unbound the AI orb’s folded-in arms. He then flipped the orb over and opened its access panel. He knew already that new units were stored brainless , without functioning, dynamic gel-tabs.

Tow looked for, then found, zero-sensory calipers mounted up on the wall between numerous other complex tools and devices. He placed his thumb and forefinger into the end with two scissor-like openings then watched as the other end—which had a set of three, independent prongs—came alive. They were now in search mode— looking… searching . Tow, shifting his position before the bench, brought the calipers down—close to the damaged orb’s access panel. As he lowered the calipers, the prongs continued to both move and work together, like animated worms. They constantly readjusted, in respect to the other, and to what lay within the open panel. Tow steadily lowered the prongs deeper and deeper into the AI orb’s center cavity. They intrinsically knew what to look for. The same procedure could not be done by hand, as gel-tabs were far too sensitive to be touched by an organic being.

A series of tiny lights began to blink on and off, indicating the calipers had found, and were secured onto, the targeted gel-tabs. Now came the tricky part. Gently, Tow pulled up on the calipers. At the slightest resistance, he would need to stop. Either that, or risk damaging the living gel-tab’s ultra-thin surrounding membrane. Feeling another series of racking coughs coming on, he steadied his hand, keeping the pressure of his fingers constant and consistent, while attempting also to clear his throat. But the coughs came on anyway. Tow’s eyes filled with moisture and his chest burned as the hacking episode relentlessly persisted. All the while, he watched the set of tiny caliper indicator lights that continued to remain lit.

Tow’s fit of coughing finally relented and he found he could breathe more easily again. Slowly, he continued raising his hand up until the prongs of the clippers came back into view, along with what they now held. Tow stared at the three glowing, bright blue, odd-shaped gel-taps. Not wanting to chance another coughing fit coming on, he quickly repositioned the calipers above the new AI orb unit. Then, lowering his hand, he felt the caliper device gently guiding his fingers to where the device needed to go. The same series of lights were blinking on and off in a new pattern now—confirmation the gel-tabs were seated properly. Tow removed the calipers, then returned them to the open slot on the tool board. After closing the access panel, he flipped the new AI orb over, and waited. Nothing happened.

Tow’s mind suddenly became flooded with new imagery. He saw the interior of the Howsh ship but didn’t understand what he was viewing. Not at first. There were numerous swaying forms—hung from somewhere high above. Humans . Both Cuddy and Jackie were among the prisoners.

So captivated by the horrific visions he was witnessing, Tow didn’t at first notice that the AI orb had reinitialized and was hovering six feet off the deck. The orb said, “I shall return now… to assist Cuddy Perkins.”

Tow said, “Welcome back, orb!” The orb hovered silently nearby.

“How many Howsh are on board the Howsh vessel?” Tow asked.

“Only one. Captain Holg.”

After three years of relentless pursuit across the cosmos, Tow felt like he personally knew Holg. There’d been a few brief communications. Holg, offering Tow his life in exchange for destruction of the heritage pod, would be satisfied knowing Tow would die alone in space—his race of people eviscerated for all eternity.