Half Way Whole

Enlightenment

“Well, certainly not in the sense that you imagine. Technically, it is possible you have some relatives back on Earth, descendents of the male and female genetic donors that spawned you. There may even be settlers colonizing other planets that are related to you, your genetic brothers and sisters.”

The weight of this news threatened to crush Eve, to bring her to the ground once more. But there were still questions that needed answers and she found the strength to bury the feelings of loss and emptiness long enough to ask them.

“So what about the others? The other passengers? Will they...wake up now too?”

“No, not for quite some time. Their training requires much more simulated learning due to the specialized nature of their roles as colonists. For now, it’s just you.”

If Eve didn’t feel small enough already, this was even more deflating.

“What’s my role then? I don’t remember receiving training for anything.”

“Why Eve, you’re their leader.”

In the midst of every unbelievable thing that had just happened, this was the most difficult thing for her to accept.

“That’s not possible...I’m not ready for this…I haven’t been...”

“Eve, of course you’re not ready yet. As you can see, they don’t have much use for a leader right now anyway. Your training is only beginning. While the others are able to gain the necessary skills for their jobs primarily through simulated lessons, your training is much more hands-on. You now possess all the academic knowledge required of a well-rounded leader, a general knowledge of everything required to run the colony. You’ll find that while you are no farmer, you know enough about farming to make informed decisions, directing the farmers on where they should plant their crops and what resources to provide them. Likewise with builders, hunters, medical staff, and all the others.”

Eve considered this for a moment, and found that what Colony was saying might be true. She thought back to the life she remembered, her schooling and hobbies, how her father was a farmer and her mother was a teacher. She thought about other relatives and neighbors that were always eager to teach her new things like how to fish or hunt or build. Her life was one big lie, a series of balanced simulated lessons hand-picked for her.

“Your simulated lessons were a highly efficient way to impart this kind of knowledge, but as our previous colonial endeavors have shown us, leadership requires a wealth of experience, practical decision-making in a real-world setting. Your real training starts now.”

Before Eve could respond, a light above one of the nearby cylinders illuminated an enclosed passenger. He looked at peace, asleep in the dark waters, in another world entirely, his mind filling with a lifetime of learning.

“This colonist has performed rather poorly in the simulated lessons. While he is a specimen physically, his progress mentally has fallen quite short of expectation. In my estimation, he would likely survive the physical strain of the birthing process, but would pose a threat to the colony at large, possibly even attempting to usurp your command. Your first act as leader will be to preemptively terminate this threat for the good of the colony.”

Eve slowly moved toward the man, studying him. In a way, he was like a newborn, smooth skin untainted by scars or blemishes. But he was also full-grown, with hard features and thick hair. As she touched the glass, her palm lit up in the glow of a flashing red light, a button attached to the controls of his chamber urging her to terminate his life before it had even truly begun.

“Eve, you must press the button to eliminate this threat. Making difficult decisions is part of what makes a good leader. Things will only get harder from here.”

Colony had said that she only possessed academic knowledge, that life experience was nonexistent. But Eve did not believe this to be true. While her life had been a simulation, a trick to stuff her mind with facts and figures, it still happened. Unaware of the lie, she lived as anyone would, making decisions every day that molded her character. It had happened in the small things, the little moments that Colony’s simulations had only included to convince her mind that it was real, inconsequential events to break up the uniformity of her life. The time an injured sparrow had fallen from its nest, Eve had mercy on it, nurturing it back to health. Or when a quarrel broke out in class and Eve was there to mediate, to bring things to an equitable resolution. Colony deemed these incidents as proof of progress toward a leadership role, but it had miscalculated, it had underestimated the weight of these small events. This was a personality being formed, a moral compass being discovered. Eve knew that she could not press that button, whatever the eventual cost.

Colony could see the hesitation in her eyes, could interpret her body language as it betrayed her uncertainty. It could take Eve’s response time and extrapolate it into hundreds of future scenarios, decisions that she could be faced with as commander of the colony. It could analyze her delay and calculate the impact that this lack of decisiveness would have on mission success. There would be no further attempt to persuade her to do what was necessary. The matter was settled.

“How do you know he won’t change? Maybe he’s a late bloomer!” There was desperation in Eve’s voice.

“A shame, really. Your training hasn’t really prepared you for any other job. But come, there’s one last option for you.”

The button Eve had failed to press illuminated anyway and a black liquid seeped into the cylinder. The colonist began twitching horribly, painfully, but he never opened his eyes. Eve backed away, helpless and horrified, wondering what she could have done differently to save this dying man. She stumbled toward the new lighted path, unable to take her eyes off the man she thought she had spared. Finally, mercifully, the man stopped moving, the light above his cylinder dimmed, and she turned away.

“Through this door, Eve.”

The door before her opened automatically into a small hallway. As she entered the hallway, the door closed behind her, but as she approached the door in front of her, it remained closed as well. She pressed on it, tried to slide it open, but it wouldn’t budge.

“I’ll open that door soon enough, but first, you’ll want this.”

Through a small chute came a backpack, a pair of boots to complete her uniform, and a rifle.

“My programming limits me from harming colonists that have been awakened. I suppose these safety precautions are in the best interest of the colony, in the event of a malfunction, but it does severely limit my options under the circumstances. Take the weapon and the supplies. In two years, if you’re still alive, maybe you’ll have proven yourself worthy of being a hunter and the colony will accept you back into the fold.”

The door that had previously refused to open now swung free, open to the bitter cold of the outside world. It must have been winter on this planet, at least Eve hoped this was the coldest season, because the ground was covered in snow and an icy wind nipped at her insufficiently covered skin. Eve pleaded with Colony, begged to be allowed back in, but there would be no response. Now truly alone, separated from the only humans on the planet, Eve allowed herself to weep, for the life she thought she knew and for the one she never would.