New Horizons

This is my 240th wakeup. The headache isn’t quite as bad as the last time. I still wish there were a way to cross space through a wormhole like in old cinema movies. Cryogenics have improved, but it’s still not for sissies. We are awakened every 60 days to offset the effects of atrophy.

It’s the year 3212. How do I know this aboard a spaceship now outside the Milky Way? Because I have my great – (I think it’s eight greats) grandfather’s antique solar timepiece, which still tracks an Earth calendar.

I immediately begin my exercises, which were drilled and practiced before we left Earth over 40 years ago. I start by wiggling the fingers and toes, then flexing and relaxing. Once my fingers are functioning, I hit the red communication button near my head. My mouth feels like I’ve been chewing sandpaper, but I croak out, “Captain Jackson here. Sound off.”

My female second in command squawks, “Number 2, Fredricks reporting.” Her voice doesn’t sound much better than mine.

“Number 3, Chang reporting.” He’s our Chief Engineering Officer.

One by one, the crew members report, but I’m most anxious to hear my wife, Jennifer’s voice. She is the first civilian to chime in, “Number 22, Jackson reporting.” I breathe a sigh, remembering our last wakeup fondly. We will have a week of conjugal visits before going back into stasis. I wait for the remaining 18 people to check in, all the while stretching and moving my arms and legs. By the time all 39 have checked in, I am sitting up.

We have an A.M.A.Z.O.N. onboard. Named after one of the four conglomerate companies left on Earth at the turn of the last millennium, it stands for: Artificially Manufactured Autobot Z-Omni-Neuron. Each AMAZON has a unique name starting with the letter Z. Ours is Zoid, and he is amazingly life-like. I sometimes have to remind myself that he’s not human.

“Zoid!” I bark.

“Yes, Captain Jackson.” Zoid rushes from nearby, having anticipated my call. He is always eager to please. He continues, “We are operating at expected parameters. Would you like a diagnostic report?”

I crinkled my nose. Zoid’s last diagnostic report took the better part of an hour. “No, thank you.” I barely keep from rolling my eyes. “I’d like you to prepare our communal meal while I go visit my wife.”

“Yes, Captain,” Zoid bowed his head and clunked away, down the metal walkway.

I put weight on one foot and then the other, thinking how I feel like a toddler, willing my body to walk. Jennifer’s cryogenic chamber is on the outer row of the E-Wing with the other civilians, whereas all the military personnel are housed where they are most protected, in the center of the ship, but we have a standing tradition of meeting in our bunkroom. Tentatively, I attempted some steps, getting stronger as I moved. I can’t help thinking how lucky I am to be here with my wife.

Toyota, one of Earth’s other conglomerations, was the company to crack cryogenics. Sinopec, a Chinese company, developed the aerospace technology which ultimately propelled Earth’s remaining inhabitants into space following the global warming crisis, which occurred much faster than predicted. Their amazing leaps into propulsion were somewhat controversial, with conspiracy theorists claiming they had extra-terrestrial assistance.

Our standing order is to search for viable planets on which to live. We are prepared for terraforming if needed, albeit in a limited capacity.

The remaining conglomerate, Walmart, was responsible for our rations, calculated to last approximately 205 years, and most importantly, our internal survival systems. Without their work, we would have run out of oxygen and water years ago.

Finally, I make my way to the C-Wing. Jennifer comes around a corner at the other end of the walkway. She stretches her arms toward me. “Steve,” she calls, her voice hoarse, but cheerful. She’s stunning, even though she had to cut her beautiful, dark hair for the journey. Her body is curvaceous and never fails to get my blood pumping. We crash into each other a bit awkwardly, laughing it off and then kissing passionately.

By the time we make it into our bunkroom, most of our clothing is off. Round one takes all of five minutes. We snuggle briefly, but we know we need to head to the conference room for our traditional wakeup meal. I trace the bridge of her nose and then play with the heart-shaped locket I bought her on earth just before we departed. I whisper into her ear, “I’ll be thinking of our next get-together all through the meal.”

Her body slinks against mine seductively and she whispers back, “I already am.” Ohh, the vixen! I do love her.

Zoid always serves our best meals at the beginning and end of each wakeup. With limited space in the galley, he has carted soup and warm bread down the hallway just for this occasion. It smells like heaven. Our meal is cordial, with conversation consisting of everything from friendly arguments about the good old Earth sports teams, to laughter about who fell down when first trying to walk.

Chang and Fredricks assure me that they will begin scanning the planets within range immediately following the meal, although our onboard computer and Zoid probably would have alerted us to any viable possibilities. There will be plenty of work during this week, but for now, I let everyone relax.

After everyone has finished eating, Samuels takes out his harmonica and plays a haunting tune for us. I never thought I would grow to like the sound of the old-fashioned instrument, but he plays it well, and it brings us together. No one breaks the spell by applauding when he concludes his piece. After a while, Hudson slugs his shoulder playfully and says, “Come on, Samuels, play us something peppy.” Samuels jumps up and sits on the edge of the table. This tune has us stomping our feet and clapping our hands. Someone catches on and starts singing along with no lyrics, other than “La, la, la.” More voices join in. Peters and his wife take to galloping around the conference table, hand-in-hand. A few others follow. I grab Jennifer, not wanting to be left out. She resists, only briefly. As we join in, her smile takes my breath away. When Samuels finishes with a flourish, this time, everyone claps or slaps his shoulder affectionately.

Jennifer and I make our way back to our bunkroom. This time, we take things slowly, enjoying every inch of each other’s bodies. Afterward, I take out my water globe. It’s a relic passed down several generations. My grandmother said they used to make snow globes, but when it stopped snowing, the same concept was used for sea creatures and ocean scenes instead. Mine has a ship tossing about the waves. If I hold it just right, I can make it seem like the ship is sailing over the horizon. Jennifer flips on the internal light of the globe and then tells the computer to turn off the overhead light. Now, the ship is sailing toward the sun.

Jennifer sighs, pleased with her lighting idea. Then she rests her head on my bare chest and asks, “Do you think we’ll every see another ocean?”

“Sure,” I say, wanting to keep the conversation light. “We’ll find a pristine planet and have fun populating it with loads of Jacksons!”

She giggles, her voice swinging upward. “I hope you’re right.” She lifts her head to look at me. “But I think we need some more practice, Mr. Jackson.”

The week goes by way too quickly. Now, I say to Jennifer, “Until we meet again, I love you.”

She says, “I love you more. Sleep well.” She lifts up her top to flash me, and then blows a last kiss in my direction just before she walks around the corner. Ohh, the vixen! I do love her.

My seventh wakeup and no headache at all. In fact, my body can move right away. Something is wrong. An alarm is sounding.

“Zoid,” I call out.

“Yes, Captain Jackson, I’m sorry to have awakened you prematurely, but there has been an incident.”

I put my hand on my heart. Please don’t let it involve Jennifer, I think. I ask aloud, “What is it?”

“I’m afraid the entire civilian E-Wing was damaged by a meteor.”

I sit in shock, mouth a-gape. It couldn’t be. No, this is a nightmare brought about by stasis.

Zoid continues, “I am sorry about your wife and the others. Would you like me to awaken the others?”

“Zoid?” I choke back the emotions. “Are there any survivors?” I hold my breath.

“None in the E-Wing, Captain.”

I jump out of the stasis chamber and run for all I’m worth to the E-Wing, or at least what’s left of it. Zoid has clearly sealed it, because where once there had been Cryogenic stasis chambers, there is now a dented metal wall, recently welded in place.

I fall to my knees, sobbing for my Jennifer and the others who will never find land. Zoid comes up behind me and asks, “Should I awaken the others?”

I seriously think about letting them have their peace, but those with loved ones deserve the truth, sooner than later, when they’re struggling to make their bodies work. I rest my forehead on my hand and murmur, “Yes, thank you Zoid. Tell them we will have an emergency meeting in the conference room. We will want a memorial service tomorrow.” I need to put my personal grief on hold for the crew.

That night, after the most difficult day of my life, I drag myself into the bunkroom, hoping to sleep. Instead, everything I see and smell, reminds me that I will never see Jennifer again. Now, I am throwing things around like a crazed mad man. I am about to throw my water globe and shatter it to pieces, when I realize this isn’t what Jennifer would want. She would want our ship to be the one on the horizon, searching for a water globe.

I call Zoid and request a sleeping pill, because I know without one, I will toss all night.

When I finally drift off, I dream of weathering a storm on an ocean with no land in sight. Upon waking, I am sweaty and groggy.

I call Fredricks and Chang. We arrange for a memorial service at noon. I want everyone to go back to their chambers afterward to sleep off the depression.

At the memorial, every one of the 21 military survivors who wants to speak has their turn. Samuels plays that haunting tune he plays so well. When he is about to finish, there is a loud, “Beep, Beeeeeep. Beep, Beeeeeep,” repeating incessantly.

“What in the name of all that’s holy…” I begin.

Zoid rushes into the room. He says with a smirk on his realistic face, “The computer has found a potential planet for habitation.” He turns on the screen, and zooms in on a blue planet with green showing, even at this distance.

We have found our new home planet, our water globe.