Venture
I felt the green beneath my fingers, the sun on my skin. Children laughed as they splashed water at one another. I sat on the riverbank, allowing my bare back to bake in the sun. I was happy, but I knew it wouldn’t last. We were told that we would leave. My brother and I was selected to leave.
A blond boy ran closer, his green eyes searching mine.
“What is it?” he asked.
I tried to smile as I looked at the scene before me. He is too young to understand
“It’s nothing. Go swim—enjoy it.” I watched him run back into the water.
Then came the siren. First soft. Then louder, until everyone stood up and turned to watch the sky burn—the blue burning away to red. I turned to look at my parents. They weren’t coming with, they weren’t selected, and they knew this.
The sirens… the siren…
I sat up.
My cabin lights flickered on and off as a rhythmic beeping pulled me from sleep. I turned to the wall. There was no window—just silver. I touched the cold metal. In space, everything seems to stay cold. The beds had a built-in heating mechanism. The warmth of the mattress did not compensate for the harsh dreams.
I pulled myself up and looked at the distorted reflection in the metal walls around me. My bare body shimmered between pale skin and red hair. The monitor blinked on, and I read the data on the screen.
ERROR…
“What now?” I muttered, forcing myself up.
The floor was carpeted and soft under foot. The error message indicated that a crew member required medical attention. I tapped “Next.” It displayed the room number: C-43. That was Betty’s room.
Time to work.
I pressed one of the buttons stacked next to the monitor. A closet opened. My uniform waited, along with my medical bag, my Medi Kit.
A medic in space. Every kid’s dream, right? It wasn’t my choice either. The system selected it for me and I was trained to do the very thing I am doing now.
I had to hurry. I grabbed the suit and stepped into the leggings. It zipped itself up, vacuum-sealing against my body. I twisted my wrist; the small monitor flashed—all vitals optimal.
I tapped a few buttons to pull up Betty’s bio-tracker.
No suit. That wasn’t good.
I grabbed my bag and ran to the door, which slid open automatically. This could be anything—a heart attack or just a minor cut in the kitchen. My mind raced. What station was she in again?
Food prep. She worked in the kitchen. She had a kid.
I sprinted down empty hallways. Most of the crew were still asleep. She must have woken up early. Possibly a minor injury—maybe she pricked herself on her jewelry. She liked wearing those.
While I ran, I pulled up her medical history. If it was serious, the doctor would have to be notified.
I was on floor H. At the elevator, I pressed for floor C.
“Override speed. Adams. Medic code 0546.”
The voice command activated my emergency override. The lift surged upward. I braced myself as it jerked to a stop at Floor C. The doors slid open. Someone was waiting outside her room.
“Michael, what’s the situation?” I asked once I was close enough to hear him speak.
“The system woke me up. I was allowed into her room. She’s not waking up,” he said. Worry laced his words.
I nodded as the door opened and I stepped inside. She lay in her underwear on the bed.
I didn’t wait.
The bag opened. Ten pieces of equipment—Assess.
I pulled out the glasses and slipped them on. Small words danced as the lenses activated, scanning her.
I took her wrist, careful to keep the glasses focused. I placed the monitor patch on her pulse—it glowed white, then orange.
Good. Not red.
I inserted an earpiece.
“Let me have it,” I said.
“It would appear her sugar is very low,” the AI chirped in my ear.
I smiled. Easy enough.
“Prep the administration needle.”
While the glasses continued streaming data—night sweats, low heart rate, low energy—I confirmed she wasn’t diabetic. Could be something new.
“Needle ready,” the voice informed me.
I reached for it. A thin needle slowly lifted from the side of the bag. I unclipped it.
“Needle collected,” the AI confirmed.
The glasses highlighted a suitable vein. I gently inserted the needle. It didn’t need to go deep. The nano-absorbent material activated as soon as it made contact with the vein.
The needle vanished under the skin. The tip was coated with a coagulant, sealing the puncture site. No trace left behind.
“Status update?” I asked.
“Calibrating,” came the reply.
The monitor on her wrist remained orange, then shifted to yellow.
“Wonderful. Heart rate?”
“Increasing.”
“Oxygen?”
“Optimal.”
“Neurological?”
“Functional.”
“Initiate wake-up jolt.”
The patch on her wrist beeped. Betty gasped and jolted awake, eyes wide, tears spilling down her cheeks. I exhaled in relief. The monitor turned green.
I removed the glasses and returned them to the bag.
“Patient is stable. Recommend doctor appointment in one hour.” The metallic voice chirped in my ear, I removed it.
“Hey, Betty… it’s okay,” I said gently.
“I… I don’t feel well,” she murmured.
“Your sugar was very low. You had me worried there. May I have my button back?”
She hesitated, then offered her wrist. I took the monitor patch and returned it to the bag. It clicked shut and began disinfecting.
I’d be out of commission for the next ten minutes.
“You’ll have to see the doctor in an hour. You’re okay now.”
I stood and walked over to her monitor, scanning my biometrics to confirm I’d provided aid. A cabinet opened. I retrieved her suit.
“Here. This will give me an idea of how you’re doing,” I said, holding it out while glancing at my wrist monitor. The report was auto-generating.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly, accepting the suit.
“Nothing to be worried about. The human body is my business—nothing to be ashamed of.”
I reviewed the data. Early-stage diabetes. The doctor would have to confirm. These things happened in space. Nothing could prevent it.
“Thank you… what’s your name?” she asked.
“Mr. Adams. Have a good shift, and don’t forget your appointment, Betty.”
Once she was dressed, I nodded and stepped out. Michael stood by the wall, shaking his head.
“Man… to be a medic on this ship,” he muttered.
I shook my head as he followed.
“Dude, you realize you’re not wearing your suit?” I asked.
“Not my fault. The system woke me like this. Besides, this body is all the action I get,” he joked.
“How’s the expedition planning going?” I changed the subject.
“Ah man, it’s great. I mean, our parents did most of the work before they retired, but now it’s on us. We’ll be the ones to investigate Euron. Exciting, right?”
He stopped at his door, which slid open and invited me in. I entered. A chair rose from the floor for me.
“It is exciting. You sure you want me as the squad’s medic?” I asked, curious about his thoughts.
“Man, the way you handle emergencies? I definitely want you. Now—about that probe data. Last night’s scan shows promise. Oxygen. That means vegetation.”
I raised a hand. “Similarity to Earth?”
He pressed his lips together. “It jumped from 45% to 60%. I think this might be our planet, Geoffrey. I really hope so.”
“So do I,” I admitted. “But we have to keep a clear head. How long until we can confirm if we can enter its atmosphere?”
My bag’s red button turned green. Ready again.
“The system will tell us more once we’re closer. In the meantime, come check out what the AI’s created for you in the tools department.”
We went quiet for a while after he mentioned the AI.
“We nearly didn’t make it,” I finally said.
“That day was terrifying,” he agreed.
My dream returned—the day the quantum computer went online. All hell broke loose on Earth. Society collapsed and rebuilt itself in the same breath. My brother urged on by my determination as we walked up the huge walkway to the ship. Our parents somewhere in the masses watching us leave.
“Historians are still working with the system, trying to understand it… there are whispers they had to bring in psychologists,” he said, staring at the floor.
“So, they think it’s aware.” I looked down at my wrist monitor and the bag beside me. Too many unknowns.
“Well, that’s not our job, the expedition team assembles in two days. And Geoffrey…”
He waited until I looked at him.
“I have more news. The real reason I’m wasting your time now.”
He licked his lips. Bad news.
“The system selected him,” I said. His shoulders fell. It was the only thing he could say that I would take as bad news.
“How did you know?”
“I just did,” I replied, gazing out the window in his room. He had a better view than I did. Outside, the stars blurred as we rocketed through space—thanks to the quantum computer.
“Yes… I tried to override it, but the system insisted.”
He waited.
I patted his shoulder and picked up my bag.
“Don’t worry. Nothing a good cup of coffee can’t fix,” I said, forcing a smile.