Solutions: The Dilemma of Hopelessness by James Gerard (great novels of all time .txt) 📕

Upon drifting into the aft section, he raised the attention to the arched ceiling.  “Wow,” he whispered, as if noticing its towering height for the first time.  An urge tempting him to have some fun prodded his reasoning, but he knew it was not time yet for such playful thoughts.

With no time to waste, clumsy coordination managed to expose air conduits running underneath floorboards.  A hand’s touch ran over the pipes feeling for leaks, jiggling the conduits to assure they rested snugly in their hold.

Drifting upwards, he eyed the connectors and valves and gauges of the oxygen and nitrogen and hydrogen tanks.  A finger flicked the faces of the gauges, even though Robert had assured him that the fault tolerant network would detect any problems, direct him to correct them as needed.  Nevertheless, he did not feel at all comfortable relying on the system to protect him from such dangers—it probably would blame him for everything; not fault its own electronic eyes.

As he maneuvered towards the back of the section, floating through the door to the reactor, the slim cylindrical generators standing some ten feet tall stood there silent.  He could not be sure if they were really off since knowledge of how they worked went well over the head.  But Robert had told him not to worry about them.

He then looked at the heavily fortified nuclear reactor.  Its bubbled dome somewhat resembled a small observatory.  As far as how it worked, Timothy could only guess, for Robert told him that he did not have to worry about it as well.

His eyes next trailed the main umbilical conduit stretching the span of the section.  It ended in an array of separate paths spread out to various locales.  Some of the limbs branched off, penetrated the generators and reactor, while others fed energy to the computer network that ruled the functions of systems and subsystems under its total control.  Still, other limbs disappeared into the wall protecting the rest of the ship from the radiating rays emitted by the engine.

Thoroughly convinced no one would deliver a stern lecture on safety precautions, Timothy drifted forward to the command module making sure each pressurized door burped its signal of safety.

As he entered the living quarters, he quickly eyed the surroundings for doors cracked ajar, then glided above the health analyzer and popped the hatch to the command deck closed.  With all secured, straps tightly pinned his body into the seat of the chair, but arms left unpinned, floated freely about.  Sitting quiet, eyes gazed out the window to the distant stars twinkling above a horizon of grids.

With a heavy feeling of relaxation prompting his eyelids to slam shut, he fought the temptation, used the view as a contrast to the peace he would finally enjoy in the voyage ahead.  He relished the thought that no one would be around to judge and condemn him for acts of behavior they deemed to be irrational.

Timothy suddenly laughed as he pondered what Charles had told him about his knack for surviving.  “Strong mind; right!” he whispered.

“Timothy,” a voice interrupted the peace.  “Timothy.”

Thinking the comment had been overheard he replied, “I’m sorry.”

“About what?”

“Oh, Robert.  Uhm, for not answering you the first time.  How may I help you?” he gleefully asked.

“We’re coming aboard now for the final inspection.  It should take a couple of hours.”

“That is so nice of you,” responded Timothy.  “But everything is just fine aboard your wonderful ship.”

“Yes Timothy, it is, but I told you that once the reactor and generators are activated, we’d need to make sure that all the systems are operating properly.”

“I could just cry for all the love and care you have shown me,” responded Timothy.  “Please, come aboard.  Maybe we can sing some songs.”

“Uum, right Timothy.  But first we’ll just take a look around.”

“Okay,” he said, but really wanted to say to mind your own business.  However, he realized that in a matter of hours he would relish the freedom of the next ten years—hopefully a lot longer than that.

He sat silent while listening for sounds indicating that they were prodding and probing the automated world from within.  All the while he could only fidget about the seated posture, waited for the ordeal to disturb—for the last time—his sanctuary.

The sleeping chamber door finally slid open.  Timothy turned his head to identify the intruder.  “Hi Robert.”  He smiled.  “Are you through already?”

“No.  I just wanted to let you know we ran into a small problem that will require a little extra time to correct.”

“Is it a big problem?”

“Not at all.  It’s just something we need to adjust before firing up the reactor.  And as I told you, after the reactor is on-line we need to make sure the generators and everything else are operating properly.”

“May I help?”

“Why don’t you just relax and let us handle it.”

Timothy smiled.  “Okay.  Will I be in the way?”

“No, you’re fine right here,” answered Robert with a smile.  “”Look, I’ll talk with you just before leaving.”

“I’ll be mad if you don’t,” said Timothy in a pouting tone.

As soon as Robert vacated the area, the lights flashing on the computer terminal went dead and the lights in the room ceased to emit light.  He was in complete darkness.  He looked at the reflection in the window and wiped the smile off his face.

Robert had told him during his first tour of the ship that they would go about the final inspection in the same manner as it was performed on the ground just before the launch.  That included the same probing and prodding, continuing until each system and subsystem checked out perfectly.

The lights flashed on.  The computer terminal came back to life.  Timothy closed his eyes and envisioned the workers scurrying about the ship with instruments in hand analyzing the power flow to the global network.  He could imagine them stop to listen to and feel the air flow in and out of the purge and vent systems; measure air temperature; humidity level; stop and start the momentum of the wheels in the terrariums; interrupt the power of various systems, making sure that the global network reroutes the function to one of the other avionics and propulsion units; and that the fault tolerant system aptly responds with the diagnosis and prognosis for the ailment.

Just as he started to sense his mind fall into a deep slumber, a noise startled the sleepy state.  Sound from a door sliding open first screeched then echoed in the quarters.

The swoosh of the toilet then the water globules freely escaping the sponge and splashing about the shower stall disturbed the peace.

Timothy looked to the window to see the reflection of a woman’s face hovering next to him.

“Just need to check out the terminal and health analyzer,” she said.

Timothy smiled.  “Do you want me to leave?”

“Just stay there.”

He watched as she probed its inner depths with a hand, flipped a few switches, tapped at the keyboard, adjusted some dials, and poked her arm in one of the analyzer’s slot.

While she completed her tasks, Timothy caught a whiff of perfume lingering about the quarters.  He smiled.  Eyes closed, for the aroma was reminiscent of the springtime aroma of yellow and purple blosoms common to the area where he was reared and raised.  Living well beyond the edge of the city, the aroma stirred up memories of how he would streak through the sweet scented terrain, jump off the edges of long abandoned buildings into soft grassy landings, and play any number of games all day with those that once were his friends.

Just as the soothing remembrances relaxed the mind, again coaxing him into a sleep slumber, the pop from another hatch jarred him back to reality.

Timothy looked up to see her float through to the command deck.  They must be close to being finished, he thought.

He could not support the weight of eyelids a minute longer.  They quickly dropped.  He drifted off to sleep.

*                                      *                                  *

“What?” Timothy mumbled.

“Timothy, wake up.”

“Time for training?” he mumbled with eyes still closed.

“Timothy, snap out of it.”

He felt a sensation on his arm arouse his senses into the realm of consciousness.  Eyes popped open and the image of Charles, staring down on him, came into focus.

“Charles, what are you doing here?”

“It’s Robert.  We’re finished.”

“Robert?  Oh yeah.”

“It’s time.”

Timothy, still feeling the daze from interrupted rest, focused on the hazy scene of team members maneuvering up through the hatch.  Fingers rubbed over the eyes to clear the hazy view.  There, before him, the sight of Robert and Charles came into focus.

“Are you awake now?” asked Robert.

“Yeah,” responded Timothy.

“This is how it is going to work,” said Robert.  “A maintenance ship will tow you to the launch coordinates….”

“How long will that take?” asked Timothy.

“About four hours.  Then once the ship is in position,” said Robert as he checked the time, “you will have about three hours to relax until takeoff.  Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“I suggest you be securely seated about a half an hour or so before that time.  And once you are secured, stay secured.  Do you understand?”

“Yeah.”

“Also, it’s been decided to let whoever, whatever, come to you.  When you meet up, let them come into the ship.  Do you understand that?”

“Yeah, let them come into the ship.”

Robert extended a hand, shrugged his shoulders.  “Well, good luck then Timothy.”

“Thanks,” he responded, accepted the gesture.

“Yeah, see you in about ten years or so,” said Charles as he too extended a hand.

“Don’t you have something to tell him Charles?” asked Robert.

“Oh, it was what you just told him.  The thing about letting them come to him.”

Timothy sensed a hint of frustration from Charles.  He did not know exactly what was bothering him, but felt as if he might have been trying to tell him something.”

“Okay then,” said Robert, “we’ll be keeping an eye on the ship from here until you take off.”

“Wait a minute,” said Charles.  “We’ll be aboard the tow won’t we?”

“Last minute decision,” responded Robert.  “Tow commands will originate from the station.”

Charles smiled and shook his head.  “Whatever.”

As Timothy watched Robert glide up to the hatch he said, “Wait.  Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Robert popped the hatch open, stopped his momentum, and looked down at Timothy.  “What did I forget?”

“Come on,” he said.  “What about a hug?”

Robert laughed.  “Sure Timothy.”

As they hugged, Timothy looked to Charles and witnessed a sneering expression.

“That’s better,” said Timothy.  He then held his arms out wide to Charles, “Come on.”

While Charles wrapped his arms around him he began to whisper something, but Timothy cut the words off and whispered to Charles, “What you did was wrong.  What you are planning is wrong too.”

After releasing Charles from the hold of the hug, he waited for a reaction, anything to indicate his displeasure, but saw only a stunned look to the words.

“Well, you guys better be going.”

Robert and Charles wished him well as they glided through the hatch.  The hatch popped securing the airlock.

“I can’t believe it,” Timothy whispered.  “Alone at last.”

Sheer joy delivered him to one of the terrariums.  He watched the wheel spin around.  The red and blue lights within whirling in front of him had a mesmerizing effect, one that he rather liked.

The wheel suddenly lurched towards him.  An arm flung to a support.  “Mooring clamps away,” he whispered.

He readied himself for the next chaotic maneuver.  The ship lurched again.  “Being dragged out into clear space.”

A grin broke out on the face, but he knew it was not the time yet to scream aloud the jubilant feelings pent up inside—that could wait until later.

In the meantime he allowed the body to drift backwards and watch the lights as the wheel continued to spin a show of red and blue emanating through hundreds of holes.