Ophelia
Cold winds blew against the window Jack was sheltering behind, the sub-zero temperatures freezing the moisture on the glass into intricate patterns. Snow swirled with each gust, coating the ground in a sparkling sheen of powder. Quartz-like crystals jutted from beneath the white blanket, an ever-present reminder of the volcanic activity taking place just under the surface. Majestic as the ground view was, it could hardly compare to the light show dancing in the heavens above. It was this secluded moon's equivalent to Earth's Aurora Borealis. Tracing a path along the star-studded sky, they moved about with a slow, ethereal beauty that put Jack in a reflective mood. With coffee in hand and steam rising from the mug clutched in his palm, he took in a deep breath of its bitter aroma and sighed contentedly.
Now this... this is life. No worries, no insanity, no rampant disease, no people.
He took a seat in the chair beside the window and took in more of the scene. The moon's native flora began reacting to the change in temperature, their green, purple, and bright red leaves curling and retracting into their stems as they sought protection from the incoming ice. The Shimmer Hare, a name Jack gave to the small, furry creatures that make their dens under plant roots, darted in and out of their burrows, chirping and chattering high-pitched warnings that a storm was soon to arrive. Jack paid no attention to their alarm. With a contented look glued to his face, he just sipped and stared as the last rays of evening faded behind the ice-capped mountains and ushered in the dark.
"SERA!" Jack called out into the still air.
An affirmative ding sounded throughout the compound in reply, and a panel on the table began to glow a calming blue. "Yes, Jack. What can I help you with?"
He leaned in closer to the light. "Give me a weather report for the next 12 hours. I want to know how to plan my day for tomorrow."
The light glowed brighter while an electric hum from the panel increased in strength before petering out. "Weather analysis is complete. A fast-moving snowstorm has formed over the Unfreezing Sea to the west, bringing sub-zero temperatures and blinding snow squalls. It will arrive at our current location, Eden's Mirror, in approximately two hours and clear before daylight. Travel during this time is inadvisable."
Jack let out a short, breathy chuckle.
"Right. Like I would ever go outside in that. Thank you, SERA. Do me a favor and keep me updated. I have a lot of samples to collect before my update with the DSEC tomorrow night, and I'd rather not get chewed out by Project Lead Richter again. That man has issues."
The console let out a series of pulsating lights, a telltale sign that it was processing whatever Jack just said. "That seems likely. During our last meeting, he displayed clear signs of hypertension, such as redness in the face and noticeably dilated pupils. The Deep Space Exploratory Commission may be wise to have him consult with a professional."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "SERA, were you recording that meeting?"
There was an unusual pause before the computer gave an answer.
"Yes."
He tapped his fingers on the table with an alternating rhythm as he concentrated, his eyes wandering. "I don't remember asking you to do that."
The console let out a short whir. "Apologies for the confusion. I took it upon myself to begin recording your meetings should you ever need to reference them in the future."
Jack's face relaxed, and he stopped tapping his fingers. "It's fine. Just don't record anything from the DSEC unless I explicitly tell you to, okay?"
"Affirmative, Jack."
He stood up and finished off the coffee still sitting in his mug. "Oh, and make sure you delete any recordings you may have made without my knowledge. If this gets back to anyone, Richter might have an aneurysm."
The console hummed and warbled as SERA executed his request. "All recordings were deleted. No future recording will be made without explicit instructions. Is there anything else I can do for you, Jack?"
His eyes darted around the room as he brought his free hand to the back of his head and ran his fingers through his curly hair. "Yeah, send in Bean, would you?"
"Sending Bean to the observation room."
Jack walked over to the circular couch that sat in the center of the room and took a seat, groaning a bit as he came to rest on the padded cushion.
Why do I always do that when I get up or sit down? I'm only 30. I'm much too young to be groaning already.
Placing the empty mug on the floor, he picked up a holopad and looked over the facility's rooms and systems section to see if anything needed maintenance before heading in for the night. The screen hovered above the solid background, and he used his fingers to move the sections along.
"Are you feeling well?" SERA inquired. "My scans are detecting changes in your speech pattern, voice clarity, and facial composition. You seem to be in pain."
Jack nodded his head from side to side in amazement. "It is unbelievable what you can see, SERA. Yes, I'm fine. It's just... looking through this holopad kinda takes me back to my time at the academy on Earth. Cramming for tests, late nights pounding coffee—it reminds me of a simpler time in my life.
There was another unusual pause before a screen on the wall lit up in a soft blue hue. "Do you wish to talk about your past experiences? My database reveals that humans can improve their mood simply by having a companion to engage with. Even if the social exchange does nothing to improve the human's situation,
Jack looked at the screen and gave it a warm smile. "No, that's okay, SERA. I appreciate your concern, but I'm fine, really."
The screen shut off, and Jack went back to examining the holopad.
"Hydroponics looks good. The generator room looks good. The living area is a bit on the warm side. I'll just set the temperature down to seventy for the night." Bringing his finger to the thermometer icon, he slid it down a few degrees and continued checking the station's status.
"Huh, that's odd. Remaining memory capacity is significantly lower than I remember."
He expanded the icon of a memory chip to bring up the specifics. As the screen maximized, he squinted. "Huh, I could have sworn..."
The memory capacity was now displaying what he figured it should: twenty petabytes.
"There must have been a glitch."
He perched his finger over the diagnostic button to try and see if there was any kind of technical issue that needed correction. Each day, the staff that helped him run this outpost logged their tasks and performances so that he could review them. Being robots, Jack would have assumed they wouldn't have any complaints. Humans come with all kinds of issues, which he found hard to deal with. Feelings, schedules, personalities—he never quite enjoyed interacting with those of his kind. He thought he would be able to avoid the drama when he took this job. Little did he know that robots have their own problems. Usually with other robots.
"Everyone's output looks good. Let's check the personal logs."
Jack's eyes went wide as he loaded up the complaint log. A new high: 23 official logs.
You have got to be kidding me.
He scrolled down the list and began to read them aloud, snickering in disbelief.
"Let's see here. The dishwasher is mad at Bean for hoarding all the stirring spoons. Bean is mad at the sink module for spraying him with soapy water and calling him a 'foam-encrusted memory stick on wheels'. The floor cleaning module is mad at everyone for getting dirt and grime all over the place. The filtration system is tired of cleaning coffee grounds and skin cells out of the air and water purifiers."
Jack took a deep breath and grumbled. "SERA, please make sure the living space modules limit their use of the complaint log to valid issues. If they are mad about doing their literal purpose, I don't know what to tell them."
"Message sent to all living space modules. Complaint log cleared."
Jack was about to actively look for Bean, the mobile coffee dispensary, when the metallic door in front of him flung open. Revving wheels and grinding gears shattered the serenity as a small robot came bursting into the observatory.
"Ah, Bean, you're here. I need you to --"
Before Jack could get out another word, the shin-high bot raced over to the empty mug on the ground with manic fervor.
"Empty receptacle!" It shouted in a mechanical, raspy voice.
Jack raised his feet off the floor. "Yes, but —"
Bean didn't wait for him to finish. Throttling up so fast he left tire marks on the floor, he accelerated to the empty mug and extended his small, clamp-like hand, grabbing the handle. Separating his lower and upper frames, Bean inserted the mug into his body and positioned it under a chrome nozzle that smelled heavily of coffee and cream.
His little body shaking excitedly, he looked to Jack and asked, "Coffee flavor?"
Jack lowered his feet back down and placed the holopad on the couch. "No, no, little buddy. I don't want coffee right now. I just wanted you to take the mug."
Bean warbled morosely and closed his midsection.
"But tomorrow morning? Most definitely! Just not tonight. If I drink too much coffee before bed, I won't get a wink of sleep."
Bean chirped affirmatively and followed Jack as he made his way from the observatory. Once the observatory doors opened, Jack headed down a glass hallway and passed into the living quarters. It was the central room of the facility, and he could reach any other room depending on which way he turned. Shutting off the lights as he went, he reached his bedroom door and nearly tripped as Bean zoomed underfoot.
"Easy there, Bean. You're worse than a cat."
Bean moved to the corner and docked with his charging port, the light above turning from red to blue to signify a solid connection. Jack's eyes sagged as fatigue set in, but there was something he had to do before going to bed. He walked to a metal table that sat against the southern wall of his bedroom and did what any intelligent pioneer would do: check his gear. Fieldwork on Ophelia was anything but routine, anything but safe. Sub-zero temperatures, wild alien creatures, and near-constant seismic activity were an ever-looming threat, and Jack knew it well. The first thing he made sure of was that his respirator and environmental suit were clean and sealed. He picked up the respirator helmet and put it on to make sure the interface was operational. Resembling a sleek space helmet, this surprisingly lightweight survival tool is vital for hostile environments. Firmly on his head, a series of symbols and statistics appeared in the visor. A mouthpiece inside the helmet then clamped around his face and sealed shut.
⦁ Seal integrity is uncompromised.
⦁ Environmental oxygen is at normal levels.
⦁ Environmental temperature at normal levels.
⦁ No toxic chemicals detected.
He removed the helmet and placed it back on the table. Then he examined his suit. Made from a blend of titanium and graphene, the airtight environment within offers significant protection against both violent creatures and weather conditions. Stronger than steel and as flexible as fabric, he folded it and put it under the helmet. Then he opened the pack on the floor and sounded off everything on his checklist.
"Ice axe, check. Water purifier, check. Portable fabricator, check. Recovery beacon, check. Plasma pistol... Oh, that reminds me, SERA?"
A monitor on the wall powered on, and a blue light exuded from the screen.
"Yes, Jack."
"Please send an order for a new plasma battery to the fabrication module. The current battery isn't holding a charge like it used to."
"This request will use bio samples from batches T-67 and T-85 found in the sulfur fields on star date 2567. Do you wish to proceed?"
"Yes. It's not like any of those samples were much good when it came to xenoviral research anyway. I might as well use them for something."
"Request sent. Estimated production time: five hours. You will need to collect more samples that contain polyphenol and electrolytic compounds if you wish to fabricate more batteries in the future."
Jack removed the plasma battery from the clip and opened a latch in the wall. Pressing a glowing button labeled 'Retrieve' and placing it inside, a spider-like robot clambered through the vent and grabbed the empty cell, dragging it along as it disappeared from sight. He sprayed the pistol's nozzle with a viscous fluid designed to prevent the metal from melting at high temperatures. He then took a rag and cleaned the rest of the gun when his fingers ran over something etched into the handle. His palms tightened, and his heart rate spiked as he fought the urge to read what had been inscribed. He succeeded for a brief moment before giving in and gazing at the inscription.
"To Jack, from Luna."
Jack's eyes dulled and he lost focus. His face drooped, and he sank into the chair. It was as though time stopped and he was sent back to that day. The day his life changed in ways he never knew it could. His lips pressed into a thin line, a rigid barrier holding back the emotions that threatened to spill over. Emotions he wasn't willing to feel right then. Not tonight.
Hold it together, Jack. You have too much that needs doing to fall apart right now.
Regaining his composure, he placed the pistol back in the bag and opened his mouth wide, letting out a loud and needlessly dramatic yawn. "I really need to get some sleep."
Jack removed his clothes and threw them in the hamper beside Bean's charging port, the resting bot's closed eyelids moving rapidly as it assimilated all the data it recorded the past day. Moving to the other side of the bed, he rifled through a black drawer, found some pajamas, and slid into them, the cold metal floor sending a shiver up his legs now that his feet were bare.
I really need to fabricate some carpets or something. Every time I get up to pee, it's torture.
Sitting down on the bed, he moved the soft, inviting covers from their place and slid under them, his feet wriggling as he found that sweet spot of comfort.
"SERA," he whispered, hugging one of his pillows while the other one supported his head.
"Yes, Jack." She answered in a soothing voice.
"Retract the ceiling cover. I want to watch the lights tonight."
The sound of metal hooks unclamping was followed by a thin layer of metal separating from the center of the ceiling. Starlight trickled in, making the room glow softly. Snow landed on the top of the exposed dome before trickling down to the side as it met the warm glass. Unlike the Aurora on Earth, the lights on Ophelia would start as powerful streaks of plasma that scattered upon hitting the atmosphere. It was like neon-colored lightning stretching across the sky that gently formed into dancing waves. He lay there in the glow, occasionally being startled awake when a particularly strong blast flashed the night into day before nodding off again.
All alone, just me and my bots.
