Kaku, Alpha Transit, 7.8 yrs

“Are you ready?” Dad says. “I wouldn’t want to miss this for the world.”

He lingers on the threshold of my lab. I could welcome him in; I could tell him that I’m also excited; I could share the moment with him.

But I don’t.

I remember it perfectly.

“Be right there,” I said. Distracted by my research, I’d had a vague notion that the debriefing was still hours away.

I changed into fresh coveralls and Dad and I headed towards Hub Six. “You look a little flushed,” I said.

“I might have come down here too fast.” His use of the word “down” wasn’t strictly accurate, but I knew what he meant: an over-rapid ascent through the spinning ship’s gravity gradient, from his dot-eight-g lab to my one-g module. Reminding myself of Dad’s sensitivity to matters of age, I decided not to comment further.

On the way we encountered various department heads going in our same direction. Some whispered.

“Just what this ship needs,” Dad said. “More gossip.”

“Oh?”

Dad’s eyebrows arched. “Seriously? It’s impossible to spend five minutes in the Bistro Hub and not hear the latest speculations.”

“I haven’t been eating in the Bistro,” I said, and left it at that. I’d been munching on energy packs throughout the day, holed up in my lab.

Dad looked thoughtful but didn’t say anything.

We found a spot in the circular, multi-ring formation around the cavernous Hub’s center. A few minutes later Mission Director Max Liwu activated a hologram broadcast from the Euler, one of our four sister ships.

A cosmologist named Elia Killik materialized before us. I didn’t recognize her, which wasn’t unusual, considering there were two thousand of us on each of the five ships and we had worked closely only with our immediate teams during our mission prep years. I glanced at Dad, who leaned forward in anticipation.

“One week ago,” Elia said, “as we passed the outer reaches of the Oort cloud, we experienced several momentary glitches in our astrometric sensors. These glitches, we later learned, coincided with a set of DNA translocations, revealed by standard medscans. About fifteen percent of our ship’s crew seems to have undergone these mutations. The underlying cause of both the equipment glitches and the mutated junk DNA appears to be a radiation field comprised of exotic dark energy unlike any we’ve detected before.”

I let Elia’s words sink in. The Euler, being slightly ahead of us, must have been the first ship to hit the radiation belt. We on the Kaku would be next. Dad and I exchanged looks.

“All mutations have occurred in non-functional DNA,” Elia continued. “They have not interfered with our anti-senescence modifications.”

The Hub let out a collective sigh of relief. On Earth we’d been genetically engineered to slow our aging and make the eighty-year trip to Gliese 832 c viable in a single generation; any tampering with that would have been disastrous, jeopardizing humanity’s first extrasolar colony.

“If you experience any unusual symptoms when your ship crosses the radiation belt, undergo a medscan at once,” Elia said. “I am now transmitting our research to all personnel. The more brains on this, the better.”

I activated my coverall’s SmartInk and scanned Elia’s report on my right sleeve.

And then everything around me disappeared; only the report existed.

I read Elia’s findings a second time. The appendix contained the details of the mutated junk DNA sequence. I stared in disbelief. I tapped into my module’s computer, sent it the report, and ran one of my customized frequency analyses on the DNA sequence.

Elia was still talking, but I could hardly hear her through the blood-rush in my ears. “… the radiation field hasn’t affected our laser shields or pulsed ion drives,” she was saying when I tuned back in. “We are therefore proceeding with our mission.”

The results of my lab’s frequency analysis came back.

I blinked.

The broadcast passed from Elia to one of the Mission Executives.

“Excuse me,” I said, raising my hand and my voice. “Excuse me.”

The Executive’s hologram turned in my direction. “We’ll take questions privately after we’re done here,” she said, “so if you don’t mind—”

“I do mind,” I said. “And this isn’t a question.”

A hundred eyes were on me in the Hub, thousands more via broadcast. Dad tugged gently at my arm, but I ignored him.

“My name is Erik Hamada,” I said, “and my specialty is information theory as applied to inter-species communication. I believe that the mutated DNA sequence triggered by the radiation belt, identical in all reported cases, is a Rosetta stone.”

The Executive frowned. “A Rosetta stone? To decode what?”

“It’ll take more work to confirm my hypothesis,” I said, “but I think it’s the key to deciphering our own junk DNA.”

The Executive’s face blanched. “You’re telling us, Mr. Hamada, that humans have been carrying around a coded message inside their DNA for millions of years?”

I tried to ignore the sarcastic edge in her voice. “Yes, precisely. I’m not the first to believe this. Genomic SETI, the search for evidence of extraterrestrial intelligence within the human genome, has been around for over a century. Junk DNA has always been the prime suspect, because it remains unchanged over deep time, making it an excellent storage medium.” I swallowed. “All of that was just a theory—until now.”

In short, I was correct.

But there was a catch.

A big one.

The Rosetta stone needed a lot of data to work, quadrillions of bytes. We could rig nanos with enough power to take a quantum snapshot at that resolution, but the intensity of the scan would kill the volunteer. So if we wanted to read the encyclopedia inside our genes, the person to crack open the cover was going to die.

After six meetings and seven focus groups we decided that our convoy couldn’t make the decision alone, since our actions might affect all of humanity. So we sent a message to Earth. We were 1.6 light-years away, which meant that we’d have to wait 3.2 years for a response—if we weren’t continuing to move away from Earth. But we were, at around 0.2-c, which made our wait time close to 3.9 years.

Some people weren’t willing to wait that long.

Kaku, Alpha Transit, 8.2 yrs

I received the video-call three hours into nightshift.

The medic on the screen introduced herself as Alicia Treb, from the Atman. A man aboard their ship had commandeered one of the backup medical Hubs, overridden the safety protocols, and subjected himself to the quantum snapshot.

Now he was dead.

“That’s awful,” I told Alicia. “Was anyone else injured?”

“No,” she replied. “But we’re afraid someone might be.”

“What do you mean?”

Alicia hugged herself. “The snapshot wasn’t as effective as our simulations had indicated: we only received a third of the data we were expecting. When people learn of this....” Her eyes hardened. “That’s why our ship’s Director asked me to speak to you.”

“You want me to decode the third of the message we have and see if I can extrapolate the rest? I’m on it.” I reached forward to end the call, but Alicia’s demeanor said otherwise.

“We’ve run psychological profiles of every crew member to evaluate risks,” she said. “I’m afraid that your father is high on the list, Erik. His recent behavior appears erratic, and he likely knows what happened. He won’t answer the general com, but maybe you can get through to him. Talk to him. Try to reason him out of whatever he’s planning—if he’s planning anything.”

Strange to think now that mixed in with my concern for Dad’s well-being was shame: shame on behalf of his actions, and shame on behalf of myself for so readily agreeing that he was potentially unstable. “Where is he right now?”

“His last known location was microhydroponics, Hub Three,” Alicia said through pursed lips. “Thank you, and good luck.”

My stomach lurched. That Hub had an emergency corridor that linked up with one of the Kaku‘s medical Hubs.

I stood up too quickly, dizzying myself, and the world careened around me....

I could describe in great detail what happened next, but quite honestly, I don’t have the heart.

Here’s what you need to know: I failed.

My Dad had initiated a chain of events that resulted in his voluntary death, and I wasn’t able to stop him. Sacrifice was a word he used in his brief goodbye note. Because he was among the eldest, he thought he had less to offer our future colony, so he was a logical choice for this.

Yeah, right.

Ten hours after Dad’s death another self-appointed hero bit the dust.

Two more bodies.

And two more quantum snapshots.

Now we could run the Rosetta stone.

Only problem: I was numb, utterly hollowed out. Couldn’t bring myself to care about any of it.

So I handed over my research and retreated into medication and AI grief therapy.

Someone else ended up receiving credit for translating the first confirmed message from extraterrestrials, but I didn’t care about that, either.

Kaku, Alpha Transit, 11.7 yrs

When Earth’s response finally arrived it proved a terrible joke:

“Proceed with caution.”

Kaku, Alpha Transit, 11.9 yrs

Networks.

The message humans have been conveying from one generation to the next, for millions of years, is an enormously complicated manual on network connectivity.

This was what Dad had died for?

The ultimate network primer?

The general response, like mine, was one of disappointment. Looking back on it, you might think we should have been giddy: we’d found a message from ETs who had been to Earth—or landed an advanced probe there—millions of years ago. But we had so many questions, and no answers seemed forthcoming from the message itself.

Kaku, Alpha Transit, 12.0 yrs

With the help of an AI therapist I built up a daily discipline, and even forced myself to socialize. Enter Karia Avary, an expert in quantum entanglement, with whom I hit it off right away.

Karia was the most outwardly expressive person I’d ever met, which was particularly comforting at a time when my emotional woes made it hard for me to read others well. Her eternal curiosity led to wonderful conversations, and her indefatigable enthusiasm was contagious. Things between us were going very well, until one nightshift when dinner in my module proved weirdly awkward, and I noticed she seemed withdrawn. I asked her about it and she said everything was fine, so I let it go. But the next day was a repeat performance; again she seemed distant, not herself. This time I tried a different approach and scooched closer to her, but her body tensed.

“Tired?” I said.

She closed her eyes and let out a long breath. “Yeah.”

“How about some music?” I dialed up Rachmaninoff, one of her favorites. “Wine, maybe?”

She opened her eyes. “Not tonight,” she said softly.

I got up and cleared the dishes. When I returned she was still sitting in the same spot. “You’re sure nothing’s wrong?”

“Have you heard the rumors, Erik?”

My neck seized up. Rumor was one of my least favorite words—along with hero and sacrifice. “No.”

“Well, they’re more than rumors.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Yesterday a sys engineer I know intercepted a message from the Mission Executive team to Earth. I’m sure there’ll be an official announcement soon.”

Adrenaline coursed through me. “What are they saying?”

“A research team aboard the Mikumo has made a breakthrough related to the network primer. They believe its information can be applied to the human brain, in a procedure that will enhance our decision-making process.” She paused. “This could be huge.”

I thought through it. The network primer dealt in abstract networking “units.” What if we interpreted those units as neurons? Then all sorts of implications would follow, implications that the Mikumo team had apparently teased out. “Whoever planted the manual in our genes only wanted us to find it when we became capable of leaving our Solar System,” I said.

Karia nodded. “Exactly.”

I wanted to heed caution about this new procedure, but if recent events had taught me anything, it was that it didn’t matter what I thought. Someone aboard the five ships would figure out what Karia had told me and take matters into their own hands.

I peered into her coal-black eyes. Behind her stolid expression a myriad of emotions darted furtively, like silverfish. Maybe that someone was closer to me than I had imagined. “You’re in on this, aren’t you?” I said. “You’re working with others to run the experiment.”

“We both know it’s just a matter of time,” she said. “This opportunity will never present itself again. Why let someone else claim the glory?”

I lowered my head.

“Sorry,” she said, realizing her faux pas. “I didn’t mean it that way. I don’t think any less of you for what happened.”

“When is the procedure being tested?”

That’s when it clicked. The recent changes in her behavior; the detachment with which she was looking at me this instant.

“It already has,” she said.

Kaku, Alpha Transit, 12.1 yrs

The procedure involved stimulating the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex, where we simulate events, and area ten of internal granular layer IV, where we experience emotions elicited by thoughts of the future. Some scientists believed this ability to simulate scenarios set humans apart from other species. Well, we’d certainly be different now.

Karia was one of seven illicit volunteers. Officially, they were suspended from duty for their reckless behavior, but unofficially their work was analyzed—and praised. Karia and the others were tested repeatedly; they had indeed become excellent predictors. The news was sent to Earth.

I was granted permission to visit Karia, and approached her module with wariness. When I entered she regarded me coolly, unapologetically.

Matching her gaze, I decided to dispense with small talk. “Was I somehow part of your plan?” I asked.

“I liked you,” she said simply. “That’s all.”

The past tense smarted. “I liked you too, Karia. I thought we were a good match.”

“Truth be told,” she said, “you’re a little broken for me, Erik. It was attractive at first, and then not so much.” She stretched her arms. “We won’t be the only ones for long, you know.”

It took me a second to grasp that “we” referred to Karia and her enhanced cohort, not the two of us.

“Do you really believe that after coming this far people will risk everything to become better at predicting the future?”

“Foretelling the future is a means of shaping the future,” she said, “and when people catch on they’ll realize they no longer have to fear what’s to come.”

I stopped myself from responding. I could argue with her until I was blue in the face, but I was bound to lose. She had the gift of foresight now, a kind of uncanny clairvoyance that I and everyone else who was un-enhanced lacked. This difference between us, more than anything else, convinced me our relationship couldn’t be salvaged.

So began the Rift.

Kaku, Alpha Transit, 24.6 yrs

Earth successfully duplicated the procedure, but despite security precautions, knowledge of it leaked, and a year later millions of people had become Enhanced. One group believed that by Enhancing themselves they could write the next chapter in the network primer, leading to further Enhancements; an exponential progression of the human race, which they dubbed e^h.

Meanwhile, Karia’s prediction that others would follow came true on the ships as well; small groups aboard the Euler and the Atman at first, then a dozen more on the other vessels, a hundred more after that.

Twelve years after Karia’s procedure, the Enhanced had become the majority.

All throughout, I was in denial. I told myself that as long as we reached Gliese 832 c, confirmed as habitable by our high-res data, everything would be fine. We’d settle the planet—and then we could go our separate ways.

Wishful thinking.

Darl Hallera, an un-Enhanced astrometrics specialist, broke the bad news. “The Euler and the Atman are drifting off course,” he said during one of our regular sessions. “I noticed minute course deviations two days ago, but thought the problem might correct itself. I was wrong. It’s getting worse.”

I had the dubious honor of being meeting leader that day. “Aren’t their AIs running navigation?” I said. “No course alterations should be possible without consensus from the Executive Council.”

“Maybe they’ve reprogrammed their AIs, or convinced the Directors to grant permission,” said Luann Jacildo, un-Enhanced gene-therapist.

“But we’re too far from other habitable systems. So where the hell are they going?”

“Maybe they don’t want to colonize another planet,” Luann said. “At any rate, their behavior is jeopardizing our mission: now we’ll be forced to seed a world with only three fifths of our preselected genes.”

I made eye contact with Darl and Luann, then everyone else in the room. “We’re going to ask them what they’re up to. Luann, please take the lead on this one. Also, let’s find out if the un-Enhanced on those two ships were given a say. If not, this is kidnapping.”

I assumed my grave words marked the end of the meeting, and we started to disband. But Luann didn’t budge.

“There’s something else,” she said.

“Yes?

“I’m going to be blunt. The Enhanced seem to be losing their sex drive. Remote medscans show hormone and neurotransmitter mixes consistent with little to no sexual activity.”

I remembered Karia shunning my touch. Granted, other emotional factors had been in play, but anecdotally it confirmed Luann’s idea. “Thanks for bringing this up. Perform more scans and bring us the data.”

There was a rumble of assent, but I noticed a few folks making cavalier comments. I called to order.

“Why should we care about the Enhanced’s sex lives?” someone asked.

“Think about the implications,” Luann said, frustration clipping her words. “Sex is not an issue now, but it’ll be critical when we arrive at the colony.”

“Then we’ll start the colony without them,” the same individual replied.

“Maybe,” Luann said. Her face twisted, and her eyes seemed to implode with concern. “But—”

“There’s another danger,” I said. It must have dawned on us at the same moment. My body suddenly longed for a lower g. “If enough of Earth were to become Enhanced,” I said, “humans could eventually die out on our home planet. Our colony would be humanity’s last chance.”

I told myself this was highly unlikely. Just then Luann tapped at the SmartInk on her sleeve and opened her mouth, dumbfounded. “Latest estimate is that of the six thousand crew members on the Kaku, the Mikumo and the Aconcagua, over five thousand are Enhanced,” she said. “Our last chance may be a pipe dream.”

Faces became somber and shoulders sagged. The Rift had become a divide cutting us off not only from the Enhanced, but severing us from our own continued existence.

We contacted the Euler. The Enhanced seemed to have been expecting our call.

Yes, they replied, our abilities seem to have created a diminished desire for intimacy. It is difficult to understand how being Enhanced will benefit us in the long term if it leads to our extinction; thus, our goal is to find the DNA Scribes who recorded the network primer in our genome. The Euler and the Atman are heading to the Sigma Draconis system, where we believe we will learn more about the Scribes. But we want your colony to succeed. All the Enhanced aboard the Kaku, the Mikumo and the Aconcagua will contribute their genetic material to its founding. We will also deploy our shuttles to transport any remaining un-Enhanced from the Euler and the Atman to your three ships, receiving the same quantity of Enhanced in return.

And that’s what we did, though the logistics proved a nightmare. During a critical stage of the hand-off one of the shuttles blew its propulsion system. The navigational AI attempted to compensate, but directional adjustments alone couldn’t bring it back. Its crew was doomed by the shuttle’s momentum. All we could do was watch and listen; an agonizing tragedy.

Except that somehow, after several hair-raising days, the propulsion system came back online, and the AI did the rest.

It took harrowing weeks of 0.2-c maneuvers to get everyone un-Enhanced safely onboard. Six hundred un-Enhanced were distributed among our three ships, trading places with six hundred Enhanced who took the shuttles back to the two departing ships.

This was it, then: our new family.

Sophi, Alpha Transit, 78 yrs

We entered the Gliese 832 system, in the constellation Grus, roughly when we had calculated we would; we found that Gliese 832 c, the second planet in orbit around the system’s red dwarf, could indeed support human life; we landed on it and founded our colony.

Everything proved easier than expected. Don’t misunderstand: it was still tremendous work. Even armed with our nanos and droids, it took close to three years to make the colony self-sustaining, and eight lives were lost in accidents. Chronic depression and homesickness took nineteen more. We had to adjust to an orbital year of only thirty-six days, and a surface gravity of 1.1-g. But we didn’t encounter major hitches. The native biosphere wasn’t lethal to us or our microorganisms; there were no higher native life-forms to contend with; we constructed biodomes to protect us from the brutal seasonal variations; tracts of land proved arable, the seas were navigable, and there was an abundance of raw materials.

The Enhanced guided us with unwavering confidence and consistent success. Their abilities nagged at me deeply, but I didn’t let this get in the way of staying alive.

We renamed the planet Sophi, and established five inter-linked biodomes joined by a local transport system along the largest continent’s coastal region. We sent messages to Earth and to the ships en route to Sigma Draconis. The ships replied regularly at first, then only sporadically. During our fifth year on Sophi they went quiet. And as for Earth, we were receiving regular updates from them; mostly they shared how many more new Enhanced there were, though there was talk of resistance pockets, too. Because we were now over sixteen light-years away, though, there was no possibility of real dialogue; any response to one of our messages would take at least thirty-two years.

I was demotivated by the news, and as a communications specialist felt somewhat useless. Each day I awoke on this new world, bathed in the deep red light of its alien sun, and went about my duties with growing apathy.

The Enhanced, despite their genetic contributions, made for poor partners and worse parents. As a result, their offspring, who were born un-Enhanced, were raised by everyone: each of us became responsible for at least two babies. I myself had two children with two partners, one Enhanced and one not, and neither assumed child-rearing responsibilities with me. I suppose that for couples the stress of raising this first generation of native Glieseans—that is, Sophians—was manageable. In my case being a single parent nearly broke me.

Despite two nanny AIs, the children initially required constant attention, and though I loved them deeply, my life felt like an endless cycle of dreary tasks. I felt ridiculously inadequate and was often overwhelmed. Memories of my Dad surfaced at the worst moments. When Egata and Neijun turned five and the stress didn’t let up I finally sought help.

We didn’t have dedicated counselors, but a cadre of Enhanced doubled as psychotherapists when needed. I explained my situation to a man named Qiao Housel, who listened intently to my heaving, confessional monologue. “I feel better already,” I quipped at the end, feeling purged.

“I’m glad.” He smiled without mirth. “I’d like us to focus on whatever small positive changes you think you can make—starting today.”

A few ideas popped into my head, but I wasn’t ready to discuss them quite yet. I studied Qiao’s inscrutable eyes. “If you don’t mind my asking, can you tell me a little about yourself?”

“Sure.” Qiao proceeded to recap his upbringing in China, his training as an AI engineer, associated certifications in psychology and psychiatry, and how after he had become Enhanced aboard the Mikumo his interest had shifted. “It was my fascination with consciousness that led me to quantum mechanics,” he said.

“Hmmm. I’m not sure I see the connection.”

“Perceiving something not only alters it, but brings it into being—at least on a quantum level. Some of us believe that understanding how consciousness collapses the quantum wave function will yield enormous benefits to the human race. We have formulated an explanation of our Enhanced predictive abilities in terms of Planck’s constant and the wave function; we call this theory e^h.”

I remembered the Earth group: for them the h had denoted humanity, the e exponential self-improvement. For this group the h was Planck’s constant. Maybe both notions were compatible.

“You’re talking about manipulating physical systems by mere thought,” I said. “As in telekinesis. Magic.”

“No. We already do it, but we’re not conscious of it,” he said. “Like breathing.”

“If you could control it consciously, how far would the abilities go? Could we transform energy and matter with our thoughts? Alter space and time?”

I was being sarcastic; I was sure he would rebuke me with some law of nature or other. Instead he said, “It’s not clear what the upper bounds on such abilities would be. Have you considered making yourself Enhanced, Erik? An utterly painless experience. Quite beautiful.”

His suggestion was a stark reminder of the Rift. This man didn’t know me at all. I shifted uneasily. “No.”

He must have sensed my discomfort. “Very well. Let’s get back to why we’re here, then, which is to help you.”

“I’m not sure I want to continue,” I said.

He was quiet for a moment. Then, as though it were an afterthought, he said, “What is the thing you most wish for, Erik Hamada?”

Without wanting to, I pictured Dad in microhydroponics, Hub Three. If only I had spoken the right words, moved faster.... I looked away so Qiao wouldn’t see the tears in my eyes. “It cost us so much to get here.”

“Yes.” He was pensive for a moment and then said, “Despite your skepticism about today’s session, I believe things will turn around for you soon. You are incredibly resourceful and resilient.”

He reached forward to shake my hand, but I declined and walked out.

Annoyingly, Qiao proved correct. My life improved almost at once. Was it his vote of confidence in me that turned things around? The fact that I’d released pent-up emotions that had been building up for years, like plaque?

Maybe.

But the changes seemed too swift and too specific. Annoyances that I’d thought about, but hadn’t shared, disappeared; everything from the way Neijun stopped chewing on his fingernails to my circadian rhythms suddenly righting themselves.

Apparently, others noticed the change in my disposition. One day, while placing my lunch order at the café I usually went to in Dome B, an un-Enhanced woman behind me said, “You look chipper today.”

I was taken aback. “Do I know you?”

“We’ve been in here together a dozen times,” she said, “but you’re usually scowling and don’t seem to notice anything besides your food.”

I grinned. “That bad, huh?” After she placed her order I said, “Mind if I join you for lunch?”

She smiled and accepted, and the meal proceeded in good spirits. Originally from Portugal, and then the Aconcagua, her name was Malika D’Cruz, and she worked on environmental chemistry at a lab in my same dome.

During the next few weeks we lunched together semi-frequently. I learned that her husband had become Enhanced on the Euler and had decided to stay on it. That’s when I realized Malika had been on the malfunctioning shuttle.

“That must have been intense,” I said.

“No kidding.”

I lowered my voice. “Do you ever wonder if the propulsion system coming back to life was... more than mechanical happenstance?”

She furrowed her brow. “What else would it be?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “Sometimes I have this feeling that the Enhanced are behind a lot of things. They may have greater abilities than we know.” I told her about my session with Qiao. “Maybe they were able to will the propulsion system back online. Certainly your husband would have been motivated.”

She let out a startled laugh. “You really think it’s possible? For them to just will things to happen like that? Why don’t they will away all our problems, then?”

“Maybe they are,” I said, “and maybe they have been, ever since we arrived.”

Malika regarded me with a curious expression. “You know,” she said, “sometimes things in my lab are a little strange. Experiments go exactly as planned—know how rare that should be?”

“Right!”

For one golden moment, I didn’t feel so alone on Sophi.

We continued to lunch together, and then sometimes shared dinner as a family. She was raising three youngsters of her own, from two Enhanced donors, and our clans seemed to mesh well together.

But then something changed. Malika became harder to read, and I found it difficult to talk to her. One day in the café she said, “I went to see him.”

“See who?”

“Qiao.”

“What?”

“I wanted to hear it for myself,” she said. “We had this incredible conversation, Erik. He said there’s a new way of becoming Enhanced, it just takes a few minutes and is utterly painless—”

“You’re considering it, aren’t you?”

She fell silent.

I shivered. “Fantastic,” I said. “Just swell.”

She came closer. “We could do it together. That way you wouldn’t be left behind.”

“Left behind? Is that what you think this is?”

I turned around. She called my name but it didn’t stop me from storming out.

That night I had trouble sleeping. What if the Enhanced could now Enhance others merely by willing it? If so, what hope was there for me?

I loathed the idea of becoming Enhanced. What was the point of predictive prowess or God-like abilities if you lost your humanity, your ability for intimate connection, along the way?

Of course I hadn’t answered Qiao’s question about what I most desired. I thought about it now. What if it were somehow possible to bring someone back from the dead, to pluck their consciousness from the swirls and eddies of spacetime and slip it, unharmed, into the present? What if the only trade-off was becoming Enhanced?

No, thanks.

Sophi, Alpha Transit, 87 yrs

Egata and Neijun grew up, giving me more time for—what exactly? I hadn’t cultivated any new hobbies besides listening to vintage stochastic music, and that was a solitary endeavor. I had little interest in sports. Though I was approaching my eleventh decade, I could have passed for sixty, and ongoing anti-aging treatments would keep me strong and vital for decades to come. I did some local exploring, but the protocols for going outside the bio-domes alone were a hassle. After a while even the most spectacular magenta seaside sunset bored me.

More and more of my un-Enhanced acquaintances converted, and I did little to keep the relationships going after their changes. I went for long walks, always by myself. Occasionally I’d encounter someone I’d never seen before and chalked it up to my growing isolationism.

It became harder to spot the Enhanced, too, as they were no longer patently unemotional, which made me nervous. I also noticed that they had a new shorthand form of communication, so I was shut out from their conversations. I even heard it said that the Atman and the Euler had sent us a message, but it was only intelligible to Enhanced brains.

As I spiraled inward I began to feel that the superficial pleasantness of the people I encountered was the pleasantness one shows an endangered species. Look how cute, they must have thought, and how soon-to-be-extinct.

Sophi, Alpha Transit, 88 yrs

One day I bumped into Malika again. I suppose it was inevitable. I had anticipated that any encounter with her would be awkward, but somehow it wasn’t. She had become Enhanced, and she had married another Enhanced, whatever that meant. She expressed genuine caring for me during our brief exchange, and invited me to join her and her husband for dinner that night. I declined, but some niggling sense of social responsibility made me change my mind five minutes later. A few hours of diversion would be nice. And I might as well form alliances with select Enhanceds, if I could.

That night the conversation and wine flowed easily, and for the first time I saw an Enhanced laugh. “Whatever you guys are doing,” I said, “it’s working. You seem to be enjoying yourselves a lot more than others of your ilk.”

Malika’s husband, Reykdal, placed his hand on her shoulder. “As more of us who were previously un-Enhanced have joined the fold,” he said, “we’re striving for a new balance.”

For an instant I thought a caught of glimmer of hidden stiffness in his face, and then hers, as though this whole thing had been rehearsed for my benefit. My knees weakened—and then it all passed. I relaxed, felt a kind of warm inner glow take over, and slid back into our casual groove.

By the time we finished dessert I noticed myself yawning. “Apparently I’m not the spry cat I used to be,” I said, and chuckled.

“Need a shuttle?” Reykdal asked.

“Nah, I’m not far.”

Malika stepped forward and we hugged briefly. “I’m glad you accepted our invitation,” she said.

“Me too.” Despite how well things had gone, I wasn’t ready to commit to another social call, so I left it at that and stepped into the night.

As I walked home, I remember thinking that the sky had a preternatural glow to it, beautiful and reassuring to behold.

Sophi, Beta Transit, 88 yrs

That night my sleep was unusually deep and restorative. A deep-seated sense of peace engulfed me before going to bed, and it was still with me as I rose and completed my morning ablutions, ate an energy bar on my way to the lab, and began the day’s work.

It’s been with me for the last several hours, growing in intensity all the while, and even now it shows no signs of abating.

At this very moment, the joy of my composure feels surreal.

Complete.

I’m smiling for no reason. I can’t stop thinking that everything is going to be okay, no matter what happens. The Scribes have given us a great gift, and it’s up to us to use it wisely. We will. If they’re still alive, we’ll find them, and maybe we’ll encounter more of their handiwork scattered among the stars. Being distrustful and negative all the time, as I was, being constantly on guard and expecting the worst outcome; it was exhausting.

This, this is much better.

Mid-morning the com lets me know that in a few hours the colony’s Executive Council will share exciting news regarding the Atman and the Euler. I can’t wait to hear it. In the meantime, I continue with my day’s work, elated, committed, completely focused.

Until a familiar and utterly impossible voice calls out to me.

“Are you ready?” Dad says. “I wouldn’t want to miss this for the world.”

He lingers on the threshold of my lab. I could welcome him in; I could tell him that I’m also excited; I could share the moment with him.

And so I do.