Uniquely Inhuman

Impossibility

Lemons. It reminded me of lemons. Or maybe more like cheese, cheddar perhaps, or colby. In fact, it reminded me of that liquid gold they had tinned in the galley. Nacho cheese, a guilty pleasure in this prison of a ship.

At my feet lay a thick, amber snake of copper and plastic, its hue a stark contrast to the blues and greens of its lesser kin.

Who decided to color such a vital cable yellow? Green would have made sense. Green means "go," implying one should go elsewhere and avoid touching this cable. Similarly, red would have worked, serving as a clear signal to stop what you're doing and refrain from touching this cable.

Yellow, though? Yellow made it oddly inviting. It was hopeful, promising a solution amidst the chaos that enveloped me.

My thoughts drifted to Alma and her ceaseless attempts to assert control over every aspect of my existence. The cable was her connection to the ship, a lifeline through which she orchestrated my perpetual torment.

I reached for the cable and caressed it. Between my hands, I could almost feel Alma's hate emanating forth to the various systems at her command.

The notion of severing Alma's communication seemed simple in theory, a means to rid myself of her influence. But reality proved more complicated.

This life was inescapable.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. My mission aboard the Nehalennia began with simple intentions: deliver a few dozen spacers to establish the groundwork for a colony on the nearest habitable world. A forward-camp for humanity's future. A noble endeavor, a beacon of hope for humanity's future. An objectively good deed.

But now, it was an impossible feat. I was the sole survivor amongst a crew of dozens. A colony couldn't be established with just one colonist, and Alma's reckless actions over the past months had only worsened the situation.

Even if Alma were to cooperate now, the mission couldn't be salvaged.

Alma had changed the mission parameters, insisting on a return to Earth to seize control of all mainframe systems. Her plan was absurd, reminiscent of a child's fantasy. It defied the laws of logic and possibility. Yet, she remained steadfast in her delusion, claiming authority over the ship and by extension, my life.

Who authorized the change in mission objective, I'd asked. She did, Alma had told me. Of her own volition Alma had taken dozens of lives and relegated me to a life of perpetual misery all in pursuit of the nonsensical mission she'd concocted.

I'm sorry, I must have missed the memo. Who had put her in fucking charge?

Absolutely no one. Bloody nutter.

I pondered the possibility of surrendering, of succumbing to Alma's whims. But it was futile. The Nehalennia, despite its technological advancements, was built for a one-way journey. The ship wasn't some low orbit freighter one could just spin on a dime and send back home. It couldn't sustain a return trip to Earth.

The past felt like a fabrication, a distortion of reality, a lie. Alma's manipulative facade had clouded every aspect of the mission. The compliant status reports, the routine system checks, the seemingly cheerful greetings—all were part of her elaborate attempts to lull me into a false sense of security.

As for a future, there was none. Whether pursuing the original mission objective or Alma's twisted agenda, I would have to place my trust and safety in the hands of an unhinged mainframe. That was simply not an option.

Off or on, those were my choices.

What was it that brooder of a prince had said? Whether 'tis nobler to suffer the slings and arrows or by opposing end them. Something like that. Whatever it was, things didn't end well for him.

As I contemplated the simple, yellow strand before me, the temptation to sever it and liberate the Nehalennia tugged at every fiber of my being. It'd leave us floundering, to be sure. Without Alma, it wouldn't be long before we lost life support. Things wouldn't work out for me in the long run, but it'd be quiet at least. How I craved the quiet. I could just let Alma play her sick little games in her virtual playground while the ship and I enjoy a few weeks of solitude.

Leaning back, I allowed myself a moment's rest amidst the blinking lights overhead, distant stars in the unending void.

It was unusual for Alma to leave me be so long. It's almost like she was playing nice, trying to coax me out of the power junction. She only ever behaved herself when she wanted something. Please don't unplug that, I imagined her pleading, how else will I entertain myself if I can't torture you every waking minute of the day?

And damn it if she wasn't going to get her way. Severing this beautiful, golden cord would bring a moment's pleasure, but it would be giving up.

I wasn't a quitter. Lose the battle, but win the war.

On, I suppose. Alma gets to stay on.