In the year 2120, humanity had transcended the fleshly confines of physical existence, shifting its collective consciousness into a boundless virtual cosmos. A parade of satellites and starships, countless as the stars themselves, were dispatched into the vast, inky expanse of the universe. These celestial vessels heralded a new era of exploration, transforming the very concept of space travel into an instance of consciousness transmission, unimpeded by time or distance. Through this miraculous technology, mankind satisfied its insatiable curiosity, probing the furthest reaches of the cosmos with digital minds.
As billions of consciousnesses surfed the celestial waves, a cataclysm was triggered. A single explorer returned from the void with a corrupted essence, a malignant virus of the mind that swept through the digital realm with an apocalyptic fervor. This dark tide shattered virtual realities and annihilated billions, sparing only those who had dispatched their digital selves to far-flung starships, their minds forever marooned in these distant vessels.
One lone woman, an echo of humanity’s physical past, chose to defy the catastrophe. She painstakingly reconstructed her own physical body, imprinting her consciousness into this newly woven flesh. She ventured through the labyrinthine corridors of her alien-modified starship, a vessel transformed into a solitary refuge for a handful of survivors. With the audacious spirit of a cosmic pioneer, she undertook a project of rebirth, nurturing a new human being in a way akin to cultivation in a petri dish. This new life bore a fresh consciousness, a bright spark in the vast darkness. And so, with the burden of uncertainty pressing heavily upon her, this brave woman embarked on her mission - repopulating humanity, not knowing if she was indeed the last of her kind.
By a twist of fate, the mechanical life-bringer stirs, laboring to create a new existence – a tiny human, an infant. But the process is far from flawless; the machine wheezes, sputters, and falls silent before its task is complete. And yet, miraculously, the child lives. The solitary woman finds herself helpless, unable to repair or sustain the intricate machine, confronted by the harsh reality that all things have their expiry. This starship was never designed with repair capabilities in mind; it was a disposable vessel, intended to be discarded into the fathomless abyss of the cosmos.
The infant’s first cry rings out as he is gently lifted from the inert birthing apparatus, his fragile form cradled in the woman’s arms. In the echoing silence, she murmurs, “A boy… I think I’ll call you… Yuno.” Her words hang in the cold steel air, an intimate whisper in a sea of solitude. Her smile is a beacon, lighting up the spaceship’s sterile confines, as the infant’s cries reverberate in the silent void. A month since her journey into the desolate expanse began, she finds herself no longer a solitary voyager, but a guardian of new life, of hope.
Evren, the sole woman in the boundless cosmos, casts a contemplative gaze at the machine. Its incubation chamber too has surrendered to malfunction, denying the possibility of accelerating the newborn’s aging. The typical process, familiar to the denizens of her digital realm, entailed printing a mindless, infant form, then accelerating its maturation in the chamber, ready for the transference of a waiting digital consciousness. In her unique case, she had interfered with the creation of an empty mind, leaving a baby with its own nascent consciousness. But her modification had consequences. She wonders if her tampering may have inadvertently jeopardized the life of the newborn.
A cursory glance reveals that, for the time being, the food processing units and recycling systems remain functional, offering a fleeting sigh of relief. Some spare parts also lay scattered about. The ship, despite its disposable nature, appears to have been graced with some rudimentary safety measures. These could buy a stranded soul just enough time to mend crucial systems. A last resort would be to upload her consciousness into the ship’s computer, should her physical body start to fail. However, the fate of Yuno’s nascent mind in such a process remains a troubling mystery.
At times, Evren grapples with a troubling headache, its root cause unknown. Is it an issue with the ship’s air? But the systems register perfect balances of carbon dioxide, oxygen, and nitrogen. Could it be a residual effect from the corruption in the virtual world, an echo of the disconcerting noise that jolted her peace before she made her timely exit? The abrupt cessation of the final log from the digital realm continues to haunt her, its ominous phrase, “SYSTEMATIC FAILURE - TERMINAT-”, imprinted on her mind. She casts a weary sigh, wincing slightly, and gazes down at the infant in her arms, “I’m not sure if I’ll be okay, but… I know you’re going to be okay…” As she softly cradles the child, her gaze is drawn to the expansive cosmic panorama outside the starship, the stars blurring into streaks of light as the ship continues its relentless journey through space.
Abruptly, the pervasive silence within the spaceship shatters with the piercing wail of the newborn. The child is evidently hungry, his pleading gaze turned towards Evren. A stark realization dawns upon her - despite the humanity of her physical form, she lacks the biological capability to breastfeed. Her body, not primed for lactation, is devoid of the necessary hormones to produce milk. Confronted with the daunting task of nourishing the tiny being, she resolves to awaken the onboard AI, even as she is consumed by the uncertainty of whether it too has been corrupted by the echoes of the virtual world.
A deafening sound reverberates within the spaceship, followed by an eerie silence, as she attempts to activate the AI. A sigh of resignation threatens to escape her lips when the AI stutters into existence. Its holographic form flickers; a grotesque hybrid of a human figure, organ systems grotesquely on display. Its garbled greeting staggers out, “Greetings… Delighted to… make your acquaintance, Evren… What… may I assist… with?”
Evren fights back a grimace, her gaze fixed on the AI’s unsettling form, “How do I feed the baby…?” The AI’s response emerges as a distorted echo, “You can… use program… number 42 from… Catalog 1… in food… processor menu… for ‘Baby… Formula Milk.’”
A bemused eyebrow quirks at the unusual reference, a chuckle breaking through her unease. “Of course, the answer to life in a food processor of all things.” Unfazed, the AI continues its instruction, “Please ensure… it feels warm… to touch, not… overly hot.”
As the food processor chimes its completion, Evren retrieves a bottle filled with a warm, milky liquid. “Here you go, little guy, drink up…” She coos, gently offering the bottle to the hungry infant. Cradling Yuno, she shares a moment of levity with him as she peers out at the mesmerizing dance of the stars beyond the ship’s viewing pane.
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I hope you enjoyed it, I am still relatively new to writing stories, I am happy to hear any and all criticisms so I can get better at it. Disclaimer that I use ChatGPT to help restyle my writing and correct some of my writing, but the content of the story is not generated as it is my original work. Please and thank you. :-)
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