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In a screen at the Mothership6 control room, there is an illustration of a pink coloured energy core titled “Nucmem.aiv”. On a corner, there is a small window with some text. [Project 7-8267 J, the “Memory core”. Testing phase passed, approved for commercial use.]
The screen had another window titled “presentation”.
[Combustion engines capable of using the patterns from brainwaves from the host as fuel. The core’s central mechanism reacts with the spark created when the cluster of neurons that make up a memory lights up at the same time.
Under optimal conditions, the core can generate enough power to be a ship's main engine.]
A third window was open at the bottom of the screen, titled “Human element”.
[Each core requires a human host or "donor" to provide fuel. The donor is plugged into the machine in an induced sleep state while it is operational so that it can pick up Zeta waves. The machine does not harm the donor in this transition.]
A snap was heard in the core room right next to the noises that the countless machines made. The mechanic that stood right next to it turned around just in time to see the thick glass being shattered by the hot pink liquid that looked like the petals of a lycoris radiata.
His helmet got destroyed and his vision got taken over by the tendrils. He passed out.
The pink energy flooded the ship room by room like a tidal wave, too fast for anyone in the ship to react. Windows shattered and metal bent out of shape, until what once was a spaceship was now scrap floating in the void, only sticking together by the faint gravity of the core.
— Shit, another one? —
— Looks like it… Ugh, and it’s also a class C ship. What a load of paperwork…
I told you that they put them as civil transport too early. The pinnacle of engineering and blah blah blah. I get it, but the technology is too recent.
When they work, they work. But, how isn’t temperamental something that bases itself on memories? —
The man in the control room looked at his coworker. —Have you ever seen them working? They’re beautiful, sort of. —
—-Do you think it’s beautiful that 17 people have surely been burnt alive in the middle of the Kaima belt? —
—You know that’s not what I’m talking about. When did the notification arrive? —
—Five minutes ago. I guess the core got overheated and it overflowed. Sometimes we are lucky and they fold in on themselves, and no lives are lost. It seems this time we weren't lucky. The ship has blown up in a thousand pieces. —
—There aren’t any survivors. —
The mechanic opened his eyes.
He found himself looking at a clear sky with unfamiliar birds flying above. —What the… —
He was lying in the foot of an alien tree he didn’t recognize. It looked like a flower. The trunk was this blue colour that reminded him a bit of green, and at the top of it, a cone shaped flower crowned the plant.
As he looked around, he could find more strange things. The grass of a similar blue colour had some plants that looked like short cattails. He had never seen this place, and he wasn't sure how he got there. He was still wearing his space suit including his helmet, which was broken on the top.
—What is… this place…? — Sudden flashes of pink visions took over his eyes. The burning tendrils surrounding him and the walls of the ship. Suddenly, without warning, it was impossible to fight back.
—¡Missa! — It snapped him off his thoughts, a steam calling someone. He looked at his right, and saw what seemed to be a festival of sorts, where several people were sitting on the grass with blankets. There were some stands selling food. —-Date prisa, que ya empieza. —-
—¡Ya voy! — A voice behind him yelled back. A boy with black long hair walked past him, stepping on one of the cattail-like plants without noticing. The mechanic could only watch as he sat right next to the other person who had called them.
—Esto solo florece una vez cada diez años y casi te lo pierdes por pillar gelatina de Yggdra, que la puedes pillar en estaciones de servicio. —
— Como la de aquí, no. — Missa explains shortly. — ¡Ah, mira! Ya empieza. —
The mechanic walked towards them, and saw that one of the smaller trees was blocking his view of a bigger version of the plant. It seemed ancient, more than twice the size of the tallest building on his planet. It covered the sky by its sheer size.
And then, the petals began to peel. The inside of the pink flower was home to giant yellow spores that seemed to disintegrate in the wind. The petals that could cover entire houses began to fall into the forest, and for a moment, the sky seemed to turn pink.
The mechanic couldn’t believe his eyes. It was one of the most beautiful things he’s ever witnessed. A sudden rush of water hit his back, like the entire forest was being hit by a flash flood. When he turned around in shock, he could see a wall drawn with ocean creatures. His head was barely above the water level, and the only thing stopping the water from reaching him was his spacesuit.
—¿Ves lo que te decía? ¿A que no es tan difícil? — They were in a pool, and the man with black hair was in it, hanging on the border, and talking to someone else. —Respira, como yo, y da una patada. —
The man in the pool hesitated. — ¿Y si me ahogo…? — The other man outside of the pool chuckled. —No te vas a ahogar, Missa. —
Another rush of water seemed to block the mechanic’s vision once again. —Wait a moment, I recognize… that name…—- When the water left, he was standing in the middle of a round table. A feast was set for everyone there. People were talking happily, taking bits of food here and there. It all looked delicious and made with care. Drinks were being poured, glasses were being clinked, and laughs and stories were being shared, even if the mechanic didn’t understand the language. He looked around at all the people, and then his eyes landed on him . He was wearing warmer clothes, and his hair was blue on the tips. He turned to fully face him.
—...You’re our donor, right? — He looked around once again. — Is this… what ores look like from the inside?... —
Missa was talking to the girl on his left. — ¿De verdad que no nos habíamos visto desde que me lo teñí? No puede ser. —
—Y que lo digas. Te quedan genial. Me dan ganas de teñirme a mi también. —-
—¡Sí, hazlo! Te quedarían muy bien. — The mechanic kneeled down, and reached his hand towards the girl. —Nah, no creo… — His hand went right through her.
— You’re not really holograms, are you? A web of neuroprojections? Just… light and colour trapped in amber? — A new flash of pink and chaos went through his eyes. He tensed up at the sight, but it was gone just as fast as it had come. He relaxed his shoulders once again. — Whatever you are, I think you saved my life. — He sat down at the table and took his broken helmet off. —I’m sorry for intruding like this. —
He raised his head and found Missa staring at him directly. Their eyes met without hesitation, and it left him breathless. He felt like Missa was staring right into his eyes, and witnessing his soul.
The dark haired man reached out, surprising him. —Ah! …Oh. — Missa was racing for a bottle behind him, his hand going through his stomach like a ghost. He kept on eating with his friends, and the mechanic brought a hand to where Missa’s hand had passed through.
Memories turned into smoke.
—How old were you? — Missa was waving a flag in what seemed to be a renfare, one of many little flags at the parade, the mechanic following behind. — 27? 29? — Reading a book right after a shower, waiting for his hair to dry. Him, dressed as a pirate at halloween when he was 8. —You never seem older than that. — At the riverside, enjoying the sun with a friend by his side. —I'm 36. I was born in March. They say that spring babies have good luck. —
—I can’t recognize your home planet. — Missa is in his room, laying on his bed and holding his cat above him. The mechanic is sitting on the shelf below the window, looking outside. — Every inch of surface is marvellous. It’s hard for me to believe that something like this exists, with so much life.
My planet is practically hypoxic because of how deep the terraformers dug. The water is brackish, and we are the only ones living there, barely resisting. —
He turned back to MIssa, who was laughing at the black cat trying to reach his face with its paw. The mechanic hugged his knees and kept quiet for a long time, looking at him. —I shouldn’t be talking to you… They always told us that in survival , the most important thing is to keep your mind clean…
Once you start to crack it’s like… a damn breaking. —
The cat slipped from MIssa’s grip, landing only a few inches into his chest, meowing loudly at the landing. Both of them let out a single, wholeheartedly laugh. — Lo siento, amiguito. Eres muy escurridizo. — The cat finally placed its paws on Missa’s face.
—God damnit. There’s only three left…Huh? — The mechanic held his only survival rations left while Missa talked to someone on the phone. They were small mochi-like balls, but they were designed to give a day’s worth of energy. He bit into one, hoping that the small bites would help him feel like he was eating more quantity.
Any thought he had was interrupted by a loud sob. In the middle of the deserted town street, Missa was loudly crying. Covering his face with his hands, trying to stop the tears with no success. The mechanic watched him from his spot against one of the buildings. He got up, and stopped right by Missa’s side, facing the same way he was. They were in a little town, far away from the city. The hills made waves towards the horizon, and the few houses were pill shaped with round windows. Missa’s sobs kept filling the air around them.
—In the academy I had my best friend who would make me a potato recipe every time something bad happened to me. He told me it was something his father used to make. A bad grade, bad news, anything… There he was, with a new way to cook them.
It became a constant in my life. It even helped me, you know? Everytime something bad happened to me, the first thing I would think of was “At least today I will have potatoes”. — Missa’s tears remained unchanged, trying to clean them off with his sleeve.
—Yeah, I know it doesn’t really help us.
I’m sorry, I’m not good at cheering people up.
Maybe it's even better that you can't hear me. —
They were in a flooded cave for a school field trip. The water reached a few inches above the mechanic’s knees, but Missa was barely a teenager, and it reached his waist, but the special fishing overalls that all the students wore protected his clothes. He was messing around with some friends by the blue roots of the now familiar flowers. From those roots, glowing mushrooms glowed an eerie white.
—¿Crees que son venenosos? — He asked his friends, with curiosity written all over his eyes. —Wacala, seguro que sí. — They were all called back by the teacher. The mechanic had begun to learn Spanish by listening to Missa and his family and friends speak. He was learning the language, the sights, the names of people and the food they made. He’d just stay quiet on loud memories, and fill in the silence of quiet ones. If he hoped hard enough, he could almost feel like part of those memories.
Missa’s first time driving a capsule.
A hug shared with his mother.
Avoiding looking at the windows in the space stations because of his fear of being stranded.
A fun game he played, but can’t remember the name of it.
Someone brushing his hair.
A rave party that was packed full of people.
The first time he found a constellation by himself.
Getting his knees skinned as a kid after falling down.
Hot cocoa on a cold day.
Drawing in the middle of a class lecture.
Making funny videos in his free time.
The birthday cake he decorated for a friend that looked horrible.
Seeing the sunrise over the mountain.
Hugging a crying friend.
His first kiss.
Trying out the memory core helmet…
They were laying in the grass. The day was a bit chilly, but the sunlight took away any cold one might feel. Missa was laying looking up, with his eyes closed. The sun hit his face, and he was resting in pure content. The mechanic was lying right beside him, but instead of looking at the sky, he was looking at Missa. A hand acted as a pillow for his head, and the world was quiet.
—I wonder if you would have liked me. — The breeze brushed through the grass and plants, dancing to the same windy tune.
—When we were on the ship, I don’t think I even told you more than ten words. —
He moved to now look at the sky. Soft cotton clouds framed the sun like a painting.
—I said hello a few times on the way to breakfast. A matter of politeness. Something superficial. — The scene changes for a few seconds to a slumber party where Missa and his childhood friends were building a fort with pillows and sheets. —Isn’t it horrible? — The mechanic laid on top of some discarded blankets
Missa as a toddler, being lifted by his mother above her head, and Missa laughing his heart out.
The space station where they both took off in the Diamondback2679, he was lying on the metal floor. Missa was talking to someone on the phone, the day before they had to take off.
—¡Oye!... Anda, ¿te he despertado? ¡Lo siento!
Acabo de instalarme, sí. Despegamos mañana. A una pequeña luna no muy lejos de Loma.
Ajá. Creo que haremos algunas paradas por el camino. —
Another silence, this time, longer.
—Ya, ya lo sé. ¿Te lo imaginas? De tan romántico que es casi da vergüenza. Cada primer beso, cada rodilla despellejada… ¡Todos a los que he querido van a llevarnos a las estrellas! —
In this silence, Missa smiled softly.
—Jajaja, sí, lo sé. No te preocupes, mamá.
Es todo muy seguro. —
The mechanic saw as the scene changed once again to the sunlit field, and Missa was once again laying on the grass. He hugged himself as he watched the sun caught in his raven hair and the freckles that he now knew by heart.
—You are everything that exists here. Everything there is, is you.
Out there there’s nothing, Missa. Just a shipwreck and a cold and overwhelming darkness.
In here I can still see the sky. I can almost feel the sun. In here… —
He stopped talking for a moment, his mind a fuzz and his eyes only set on the person beside him.
—My name is Philza.
I come from the Taino system, two planets after Mero. I’m biomechanic.
I like crows, and the smell of lavender…
I- —
—[Come in, 2679. Come in.] —
Philza snapped his eyes open, and got up faster than ever.
—[Here Mothership6 to Diamondback2679. Do you copy?]
[We are getting life signals in your coordinates. We’ve sent rescue agents and they should arrive shortly.] —
The sky seemed more overwhelmingly beautiful than ever before. With the petals from the forest behind them, the ganta birds flying in flocks, and the grass blades dancing with the wind.
—[2679, do you copy? Can someone hear me?] —
Tears started to spill from his eyes as he turned for what might be the last time towards Missa.
With his eyes closed and a small content smile on his face, he was blissfully unaware of what the future held for him. Of what Philza felt. Of what it all meant. He was the centre of this world.
—[Is someone there?] —