Chapter 1: Up to Speed
My grandfather's generation was all about speed, needing more of it or having too much of it. They used to say they needed to slow down. When things got really hectic they talked about life moving too fast, or life going at "light speed."
But when he entered a meeting about a project, he'd ask his team to "bring him up to speed" on the topic.
These days, nobody talks like that anymore. Nobody says they need more speed. Nor do they say that life needs to slow down. We've entered a golden age, and it’s because of the faster-than-light drives created by my grandfather. We can travel the stars, not just in style and comfort, but faster than the speed of light. People can go faster than they ever thought possible. So, why does it feel like I'm already too late?
I stared out the window of our starship, the “Leviathan”, and watched the stars streak past. When you move at hyperluminal velocity – that is, faster than the speed of light - the rest of the universe appears to slow down. Now that we've been traveling at these kinds of speeds routinely for a 100 years we know that it doesn't really slow down - but it still feels that way. The computer-controlled instruments on this gigantic starship can sort out all of the astronomical markers to keep us on course, yet to the naked eye, even the stars look stretched out when you're going this fast.
"Jason?" my father, Dr. Steven Bonadventure, called from the corridor. "You really shouldn't look out at space like that while we're at speed, son."
"Sorry Dad," I replied. "I still can't quite believe all of it."
He came and put his hand on my shoulder gripping it slightly, the way many fathers do when they are trying to both comfort and correct their 15-year-old sons. But of course, I was almost 25 so it felt pedantic. "You know staring out the window at this speed makes you sick," he said. "Besides, as the grandson of the inventor of this marvelous star drive, you need to take it all in stride, especially with all the media on the Leviathan's maiden voyage."
The “Leviathan” was Inferno Industries newest flagship. No expense had been spared. It was to be the crown jewel of the fleet and serve as both an example of our company's dominance and my family's opulence. The ship was five miles long and two miles wide at its widest points. It had giant glass domes spread across its center mass filled with purified atmosphere and the finest in topiary as well as more useful plants for growing food. It was part luxury liner and part deep-space cruiser. The plan when building it - at least as far as what my father had told shareholders back on Earth – was that the ship was to be used to tour Earth’s colonies. And, he meant ALL of Earth's colonies, whether they be right around the corner at Alpha Centauri or much farther out in the cosmos. The “Leviathan” design included not only the plants under the dome but various kinds of arcology so that it could be almost self-sufficient on its long voyage. Even moving slightly faster than the speed of light, getting from one place to another on this itinerary could mean being in space for months or years at a time. The current plan was for us to stay out here for a year or two.
The ship could do it, and the hyper-radio communications suite included in the basic design meant that the members of the media with us could keep the societal types, and shareholders completely up to date with tales of our adventures and encounters.
All this meant my dad was right, of course. I had to play my part as the heir to Inferno Industries, the most successful space venture company - and some argued the most successful company - in the history of mankind.
"I know, I know," I said, exasperated. "Can't we just take the skipper yacht the rest of the way to Beta Colony? Being put on display like this makes me...nervous."
