Chapter 10
Never leave the temple to me, Mother Nova. Never praise my studies nor my discipline. I fail at both and deserve neither.
You welcome me as though I am your child, as though I am this temple’s child, but I am neither and deserve neither. I aspire for nothing. I strive for no enlightenment.
I am a descendant of the void, empty and aimless, and in it, I find my meaning.
Additional materials, originally omitted from the diaries of Vessel
Iris collection, Volume Seventeen
There were many proper ways to prepare a body for burial.
There were ways to preserve the flesh, to store it, to dress it, and beautify it before handing it off to the mourning family.
But now, as Iris studied Riyu’s waxen face, they all seemed frivolous.
In the second hour, Iris had decided that Riyu would remain here.
He would leave her for the vines and the moss to claim, to retake into the larger ecosystem she had been so elated to study.
Somehow, this surrender felt appropriate and one Riyu would have approved of.
Iris had now spent four hours muttering mantras over her cooling body in a pathetic attempt to calm himself enough to break the news to the others.
Yan’s cigarette was still clutched in his hands, and he was picking at the wrapping paper like he would pass the mala between his fingers in meditation.
It was hand rolled and that made all the difference. Why, Iris refused to consider.
Behind him, the others whispered among themselves.
Iris could make out Ishtan’s calming drone and Jesi’s sniffles against the gentle dripping of moisture.
They were all frightened. They were all lost. If only Iris could admit that he too was lost and frightened, they could all share in their communal grief.
But he didn’t have the luxury. Neither did Yan, who participated in the conversation around him sparingly, standing off to the side and sipping thin coffee from his thermos.
He cast Iris long, anxious glances periodically, and Iris returned them sparingly.
Then, just as the conversation began to die down, Yan said, “That’s it. Enough.”
Everyone looked up at him, and Iris pivoted just enough to watch.
“We now have two problems. We have someone actively hunting us”—Yan was still holding on to the theory that the two were separate—“and we have the ship’s ecosystem hunting us.
” He shut the thermos forcefully. “I’m not in the mood to sit here and wallow and wait for either to end me.
Earlier today, I found the brain that seems to be the most active.
Whoever is watching us is probably there.
I say we make our way to the brain and take the ship from them. ”
“With what?” Jesi muttered lowly. “A busted torch?”
“With a gun,” Eli said and drew his pistol. “I’m not supposed to use this unless my clients are in immediate danger, and I suppose this qualifies.”
Yan gave him a nod. “Ordan must have also had a gun. Where did you pile all of his clothes?”
Ishtan was already moving. “We left them in the corridor. I’ll go get it.” He paused. “Maybe Eli should come with me.” With a grunt, Eli hopped to his feet and followed close.
If they were moving out, Iris would gather his things as well. He was nearly at the doorway when a small voice called after him. “No one is supposed to go alone.”
Iris gave Tev a reassuring smile. “I’ll only be gone a few minutes.
I’m armed. You don’t need to worry.” With those words, he slipped out into the corridor and hurried towards the cargo bay.
Maybe it was the throbbing in his shoulder or the prolonged silence in his mind, but Iris was growing increasingly irritated by the minute.
Irritated with the notion of guns. Irritated with a lack of a sensible plan, and mostly irritated with himself.
You’re mad at me, I understand that, but I really need you to be the mature one right now, he thought at VIFAI as he passed down the corridor.
After a few dozen steps, there was a familiar full feeling in the periphery of his consciousness.
I’m sorry about Dr. Alo.
Just a few metres of separation from the room, and Iris had already forgotten. He mentally nodded in agreement.
I was watching as you examined her. The initial attack must have been nearly instantaneous.
She would have lost consciousness immediately.
Very little chance of pain. She didn’t—For a moment, Iris was blind with rage, and VIFAI broke off.
Its last word echoed through the chasm left in its wake, but unlike every other time, Iris didn’t chase it into the black.
When VIFAI spoke again after Iris’s anger had receded, its electronic voice was fractured and trembling.
Don’t do that again, please, it said weakly.
Iris was already at the edge of the cargo bay, but the change in his VIFAI’s tone startled him still. “I nearly hurt you again, didn’t I?”
VIFAI chimed an affirmative.
“I need to watch my anger. I’m sorry.” Iris rested his forehead against the cool metal door. “You can shock me in retaliation if you’d like. I deserve it.”
If I shock your brain stem wrong, you’ll die, VIFAI said softly. You die, I die.
Iris didn’t say anything, but VIFAI had access to all his thoughts.
He let it make what it wanted from them.
Once inside the bay, there was very little time at his disposal.
As carefully as he could, given his limited mobility, Iris ran his shaving blade across his head and jawline, cleaning any pesky stubble.
He was grateful no one had commented on his dishevelled appearance.
Perhaps they had never noticed, what with the death of their colleague and their own impending demise looming ever closer.
On the last pass, his hand broke into a tremor, and Iris was forced to rest the blade.
Be patient, VIFAI reminded him.
With the electronic voice, so much like his own, yet distinct enough to never blur the boundary between them, came a subtle relief.
It was familiar and safe. A Vessel’s AI construct was programmed to match the internal voice of its handler to minimise the cognitive dissonance between organics and inorganics.
The minute difference in their timbres created the illusion that this was a friend, a real person who cared for Iris’s well-being, a person who understood his intentions and compulsions before he ever uttered them.
In his younger days, Iris would frequently forget that it was VIFAI who spoke to him and not a rogue thought of his own.
Through the years, their mannerisms diverged, as did their voices, and Iris learned to identify the other who was sharing in his mind.
He could no longer remember what it had been like to be alone.
In a feeble attempt to escape the spider nest of these convoluted thoughts, Iris shut his eyes forcefully and let himself slip into the darkness of the void always lay just beyond perception.
Here, nothing could harm him. Nothing could disturb him.
Here was complete silence, a space free of even VIFAI’s voice, of his own thoughts.
Iris’s fingers unconsciously brushed against the cigarette tucked into the sleeve of his undershirt, and he was no longer at peace.
Your engineer is warming up to you.
“Not. My. Engineer,” Iris said, emphasizing each word.
He shoved his shaving kit back into the duffel bag.
He picked up the previously discarded bloodied robes and slid them on, tying the drawstring at the side.
After a final look around the cargo bay, he bowed deeply to the pile of bones in the corner.
“I’ve failed you all,” he said, voice monotone.
“Please forgive me, and I hope you all find your way back to the Light.” Iris was about to walk out when he forcefully turned back on his heels.
“No. You don’t need me. You were returned to the Light when you passed, plain and simple.
That’s how this works. You were always with the Light, in life and in death; you never left it.
I was here for tradition, ritual, not for purpose.
The role of the Vessel is to usher souls back to the One Beginning, but you passed hundreds of years ago.
There is no family here to soothe. There is no grief to hold.
How could you not have moved on already? Haven’t you?”
You’re sounding a touch frantic.
Iris ignored the remark. “You’re gone. You’ve been gone the moment you took your last breath.
Same as Ordan, same as Dr. Alo, same as—” He took a deep inhale.
He was beginning to sound frantic. “There is nothing I can do for the dead. There is nothing that needs to be done,” he said with finality.
For the dying, yes, there was peace he could bring.
For the remaining, he could provide solace.
But the dead had already slipped through his fingers.
They could no longer speak and ask him difficult questions.
Perhaps that’s why Iris had preferred them to the living all this time.
What good had he been as a Vessel to Ordan and Riyu?
They weren’t of the faith. They weren’t even particularly curious about it.
Now, they were dead, and he was useless.
You’re not useless. You said some wonderful words.
But those weren’t uttered for the dead, were they?