The engineer

"He is Martin Hughes, propulsion expert," says Auto. "Is there anything else you wish to know, Marissa?"

"Auto, is he young, handsome?"

"He is ninety-eight hundreds old. I'm afraid 'handsome' is a subjective signifier that I cannot evaluate independently. Perhaps you can tell me when you meet him, and I will store that information for later reference."

"You're no fun. So, Auto...propulsion expert? What is that?"

"He is an engineer who specializes in the design, construction, and maintenance of engines that propel craft through space."

"Auto, craft...like this one?"

"That's right, Marissa--especially this one."

I feel a small twinge of fear. "Auto, does that mean there's a problem with our...engines?"

"There is not one yet." Auto seems unusually reticent. He gets like that sometimes, when he's asked about sensitive information. I decide I won't pry further. Perhaps this Martin Hughes will know more.

My heart rate and breathing are back to normal, so I stand and stretch. "Auto, how far until I should start counter-spinward?"

"Not for a while, Marissa. At least another two kayems."

I shrug my shoulders and resume the trek. There's something very beautiful and peaceful about the hills, the way the terrain breaks up sightlines--such a contrast to the curving flatness elsewhere. I keep pushing on, ever upward, my muscles flexing with every step or handhold. By this time, I weigh half my normal body weight, perhaps only as much as one of those sacks of flour I've many times had the displeasure of hauling to the bakery.

Another few hundred ems along, and the climbing feels almost effortless. This is deceptive, I know. As Auto warned me, I'm not used to the low gee, and any misstep could drop me several ems, easily breaking my legs. Still, I almost feel like I'm floating. I bet I could surmount some of these rock faces in a single bound, were I reckless enough.

"Auto, have I gone far enough?"

"Yes, Marissa, you're on level with the facility. Please turn counter-spinward."

I take another short break to drink some water from one of my canisters, then proceed perpendicular to the slope. Even though I no longer have to climb, the uneven footing makes the path even more treacherous. But I'm careful, and I make good time.

The sunstrand hasn't even fully waxed when I discover the large steel door set into one of the rockfaces. A stepped path runs redward down the slope away from the door--no doubt the route I would have taken had I followed Auto's recommendation.

"Auto, I believe I have reached the Facility," I gasp, a little out of breath. I want to wipe my sweaty hands somewhere, but my thighs, tummy, and bubs are just as slick. Even the belt on my utilities has become damp. I run my fingers through my hair, which is already fairly bedraggled. It can't get any worse.

"I can confirm that, Marissa. If you'll go to the keypad beside the door, please enter this sequence--eight, seven, seven, three, zero, one, one. Then press the confirmation button." I follow Auto's instructions, and something within the door clicks. When I push against the cool steel, it swings inward, revealing a dark passage.

"Auto, the door is open," I say, peering nervously into the blackness. Nothing is visible.

"Go forward," says Auto. "Do not worry about the darkness. The path is straight, the floor is even, and there are handholds you can use. After forty-three paces, you will find a switch on your right. Flip it to illuminate the Facility."

I take a deep breath and plunge in, fingers gripped around the metal railings on either side. My boots clank on the grated floor. As I go, the lighted opening behind me shrinks to the size of a couple of fingers held at arms length. I can no longer see anything else around me. The air smells strange. I wonder when a living person last visited this place.

At forty-three steps, I stop and flail a bit to my right until my hand brushes against the switch Auto mentioned. I hear a couple of clicking noises, then artificial lights far above snap to life.

I'm standing on the edge of a large room, several ems on each side--mostly bare, except for a raised platform in the center. On the far wall, a couple dozen egg-shaped human-sized containers lay embedded in individual cubbies. A similar number of cubbies are unoccupied.

"Auto, I-I'm here," I say.

"Excellent, Marissa. There's no further need to wait. I started the revivification process seven days ago--neural analysis, full fluid replacement, muscle stimulation--but that is now complete. The final steps are up to you. First, select the pod in 3C. That's three up from the bottom, three over from the left. Move the pod to the platform."

I follow Auto's directions. At the level of the polly, the weight of the pod would be far more than I could lift. Here, however, I manage to carry it easily, though I do have to be mindful of its momentum and make sure I don't squash any of my fingers laying it on the platform.

"Auto, I'm done."

"Next, examine the latches along the seam between the top and bottom of the pod. There are four of them. Unlatch each one, then lift the top of the pod and place it on the floor."

Again, I obey. There's an exhalation of air from the seam after I undo the final latch. With the top of the pod removed, I can see the human figure lying inside.

"Auto, I'm done."

"You should now lift Martin Hughes out of the pod and place him next to it on the platform."

When I've done so, I step back to regard the man lying unconscious before me.

"Auto, he is handsome!"

"I will make a note of it."