Mark McGinnis - The Simpleton

“Look… in case you’ve forgotten, I’m a physician. A surgeon. Don’t you think a sophisticated wellness chamber would be of interest to me? Don’t you think here is where I could do the most good, on our journey to God knows where… wherever it is we’re going?”

“Maybe, but nobody’s sick. And this chamber was designed for the Pashier, not humans. It could be dangerous,” Cuddy said.

Brian scoffed at that. “Uh huh. So says the one who’s benefitted most. Heightened intelligence, not to mention kinetic and psychic capabilities, which no human has ever possessed.”

“That’s the thing, Brian. I am no longer human. Not completely. Are you willing to give that up… your humanity? To become a living mutation… one not wholly of a particular species?”

“Sure… why not? I could care less what species I’m called. No, I need to know everything about this chamber.”

“Well… sorry, but I don’t know how to configure that panel. That was not part of the information download I received from the orb,” Cuddy lied. “Best you don’t mess with it. Sorry.”

Brian eyed Cuddy, clearly not buying it.

“You guys coming? I found another cool compartment,” Jackie said, looking out from a hatchway ten feet further down the corridor. Again, she avoided making eye contact with Cuddy, and he wondered, Have I lost her… my best friend?

He followed Brian into the next hatchway and peered curiously around, never having been inside before.

“I think it’s a Pashier chapel, or a church,” Jackie said.

A large compartment, with soft lighting, there was an overall tranquil feeling to the space. Its original metal decking had been replaced with a more organic-type of flooring, not wood—but something similar. Comfortable-looking seating was arranged in a circular fashion. Kyle tapped Cuddy’s upper arm, gesturing him to look upward, where a suspended galaxy of tiny lights hung. He wasn’t sure if they were some kind of projection, or something else. They certainly looked real—three-dimensional. Although he had no memory of ever visiting this compartment before, he only knew he liked it—the way it made him feel. Cuddy knew he would be returning soon.

“It’s a sanctuary. It’s so beautiful,” Jackie said. “It makes sense… the Pashier were kind, spiritual beings.” As she and the others started to file out, she said, “Other than the bridge, which we’ve already seen, and a few bathrooms, I mean heads , scattered about… that’s the complete fifty-cent tour, folks.”

Brian waited for Cuddy, the last one to leave the sanctuary. “How about you show me that sub-level compartment, bro. I hear it’s really some—”

Cuddy moved fast, before he knew what he was doing. “Never go down there! Ever!” With his left hand, he grabbed a fistful of Brian’s shirt and lifted him two feet off the deck. Then, taking a step forward, he slammed him up against the closest bulkhead. He brought back his other clenched fist, ready to unload his 6’3”, two hundred pounds of body mass, into one killing blow. Wide-eyed, Brian squirmed and tried to free himself. Cuddy’s tight grip on his throat made it impossible for him to utter more than a few whimpering squeals.

“Stop! Cuddy… stop! Please put him down.”

Cuddy ignored Jackie’s request, though he felt her presence behind him in the corridor. Felt her eyes boring into his back.

“He’s an ass… that’s no secret. But killing him would hurt you too, Cuddy. That’s not you; not the person you are.”

Cuddy released his death grip on Brian’s throat—he was now gasping for air. Cuddy took a step away from him. Cuddy’s mental power kept Brian pinned, high up on the bulkhead—his legs flailing. His voice, little more than a croak, screamed out, “Let me down you… you fucking freak!”

Cuddy brushed past Jackie without slowing down. He was halfway up the winding staircase before he inwardly relaxed his invisible hold on Brian. He heard Brian hit the floor with a clamoring thud. Smiling, because Jackie was wrong. She didn’t know who he was—not now—not anymore.

Later, after everyone retreated to a personal berth to get some sleep, Cuddy left the bridge and returned to the lower level. He followed the aft passageway into Hold #1 and made his way over to the shelving that contained all the various AI orb parts. He lifted the inert sphere unit off the shelf then moved to where the boxes of gel-tabs were located, and grabbed one. After a final scan of the shelf, checking to see if there was anything else he was supposed to get, he left the hold and headed forward, toward Tow’s small hidden workshop.

It took Cuddy four and a half hours to complete a job he figured Tow would be able to do in a matter of minutes. But his fingers were thick and clumsy, and he only discovered the necessary calipers tool, with its wiggly, life-like prongs, after a frustrating hour of no progress. To accomplish the essential task of bringing a new AI to life, Cuddy drew on memories furnished by the new orb’s predecessor. Now more accustomed to drawing on thoughts that weren’t his own, he wondered at what point he might fully discern everything that the AI had downloaded into his mind—though perhaps never.

After making the final settings configuration, he next ensured that the orb was indeed powered on. He knew the AI was going through a series of self-tests, doing millions, if not billions, of assessments—determinations.

Startled by the orb’s rapid ascent into the air—where it quietly hovered—he said, “Hello… I am Cuddy Perkins.”

Yes, hello, Cuddy Perkins… I now must address several pressing issues on the Evermore : Environmental filters need swapping… there is a slight alignment issue with the second emersion drive. Cuddy watched as the sphere sped away. Only then did he realize the orb had spoken to him telepathically.

Suddenly, Cuddy felt very tired, needing sleep. He left the little workshop and found his way to the upper-deck berths. He tried to be quiet as everyone was sound asleep. He stopped and looked down at Jackie’s sleeping face— so beautiful —and wondered if she was angry at him for the altercation with Brian? Of course she was.

In the dim light, he made his way to his berth then crawled into it, too tired to undress. He just needed sleep. His mind drifted into the murky state between consciousness and sleep, and he felt himself drifting off, going deeper and deeper. Then suddenly his eyes opened wide and he sat up. He remembered something. Something that wasn’t there. In the semi-darkness, he found Brian’s berth, the one atop Jackie’s—it was empty.

Cuddy crept past the sleeping passengers, out the berth compartment, and headed forward. Reaching the bridge, he saw that it was empty. The orb should have been here. Thinking about it, he had a pretty good idea where both Brian, and the orb, had gone. It also suddenly occurred to him that he hadn’t taken the time to set up a command structure for the orb. He cursed himself, this was something he’d been reminded to do by the other AI. He hurried aft, crossed through the main cabin and took the circular staircase down, taking three steps at a time. Reaching level two, he hit the deck running. Halfway down the aft passageway, he noticed the hatchway to the wellness chamber was closed. Symbols on the small access panel told him the chamber was in use—the hatch locked. He banged on the hatch with a closed fist several times, and then brought his head closer to it to listen. He definitely heard Brian’s voice within. Frustrated, Cuddy banged again, followed with several strong kicks.

Use your mind! Cuddy remembered and reached out to the orb: