T minus two years, three months, one week

Slinging his bag on the floor, Jim looked around his new home. It was fairly standard – four bare walls, a bed, a chair, a desk, a sink and a viewer – but it somehow managed to be more depressing than usual, thanks to the oh-so-exciting grey-scale colour scheme and the fact that he was stuck here for two years. It made sense to have them all living together before they got sent off into the middle of nowhere - make sure there aren’t any psychos hiding in there, make sure everyone can get along and work together as much as necessary, because if you can’t live somewhere then you’ll know it within eighteen months at most and if you’re still on Earth then you can get the hell out of Dodge but if you’ve launched and left then the only way out is through an airlock.

He flung himself full-length on the bed and stretched his arms above his head. It was more comfortable than the one he had at home, and he sighed in delight. With a bed like this, he could deal with the drab and drear of a basic standard military-equipped government-funded barracks. He could deal with just about anything, he told himself, if he had a soft warm place to sleep. He could deal with working a shitty job for the rest of his life when he had been planning, really, to get back into the system and do a final degree once he got his head a little more sorted out. But that was cool, that was OK, because he would be one of the people on the first great colony. He would be one of the first people to get the hell of this rock, for good. There was no way, he thought, that could be bad.

There was noise and movement in the corridors, the hustle and bustle of several thousand people moving in on the same day, of children and parents and singles and couples and all the people that a city could need, and that was just what this was, a city in the air like the super-scrapers they had in the really over-crowded cities, where you could live for years without ever setting foot on the ground. That was all the Santa Maria was – a big old super-scraper with an ion engine on the back. And he was going to be living on it. If they didn’t chuck him out first.

A quick knock on the door roused him from his deliberations, and he called out an invitation without checking the identity of the visitor. A woman he had never seen before walked in, and he quickly stood and arranged himself in a more decorous fashion. “Sorry, can I help you?” he said hopefully. “James Allen Zeer, right?” she questioned. “Jim,” he told her with a grin. She smiled back. “I’m Dan,” she told him, “and I’m in Nav. You’re in my training group this year.” Jim took a moment to place the abbreviation, but he soon remembered his aptitude had placed him in Navigation and Morale. “You’ll be teaching me this year, then,” he stated. “Not to be insulting, but what exactly is there to learn? You look at the viewers and point them in the right direction.” Dan laughed, a light chuckle that wasn’t nearly as irritating as it could have been. “It’s more a question of learning what to avoid on the way there,” she explained. “You have to get a feel for space – the way it dips and curves. It’s organic. Sometimes the machines miss things.” He sat down on the chair, and replied, “OK, scare me then…” She chuckled again, and shrugged her reassurance to him. “I’ve got to get going – I want to meet the whole group before we start working together on Monday. I’ll see you then?” Jim nodded, and she left.

There was a bar a few sections away from Jim’s room, he found, and he settled himself for a few hours, mentally thanking whoever realised that alcohol really was necessary to life – no matter the arguments against it. The New Prohibition was still in effect in a few parts of the globe, but it had never been entirely successful. Still, this was an impressively stocked bar. Three brands of vodka, twenty different whiskys, assorted other spirits, a cabinet full of liqueurs and a long row of beers on tap – and that was just what Jim could see. “We won’t have this on the ship, will we?” he asked the bartender when she came close enough to hear him. “We’ll have some,” she replied. “There’ll be a bit of stockpiling, and production of some of the brands – we’ll get by.” Jim took a pull of his beer, and continued, “Be just like a cheaper place, then. Less variety.” She nodded in acknowledgement. “And the same barmaid for the next fifty years,” she added with a self-deprecating smile. Jim gave her a flirtatious grin, and she giggled back at him. It was a good night.

From: J. Zeer
To: Mrs M. Zeer
Dear Mom.
Well, I’m here. The room isn’t as nice as home, of course, but it’ll do. I can’t quite believe it’s really happening, to be honest with you. I’m part of the Santa Maria colony. Wow. It’s huge. The concept, I mean. Though this place is pretty massive by itself. I don’t know how many thousand people are here, but it’s really a lot. I’ve met a few nice people already, but most folk seem to be too busy settling in to go out and meet people. And I think a lot of people are just sticking to their little cliques for now – staying with their families or their workmates. I think I’m one of the few people that really doesn’t know anybody. I heard there were only three people selected from my testing sessions, and I think I might have possibly seen them on the way in, but they weren’t ones I was friendly with, and… honestly? I’m scared. It’s like when I went off to get my first degree and I forgot to take Scotty’s number. But it’s OK. I’ll be fine. I’ll get to know the people I work with, and the people I train with, and talk to all the people that come into the shop – it’s not like I’m one of the academics who won’t even have an excuse to get out of their rooms some days.
Anyway, since it’s only the first day I don’t really have any news, but when I do you can rest assured I’ll tell you.
Love, Jim

From: J. Zeer
To: A. Jeffers
Alan,
This is so weird. It’s, like, a city. But it’s all this preparation, and… shit. Some pretty pieces of flesh, though. My teacher this year… nice. Very nice. Tall and slim but still curvy, legs like you would not believe, this cute short flippy hair… Uh-huh. And the local barmaid – I think the polite word is “voluptuous”. Nice scenery for a drink. And oh, God, the bar… it had anything you could want. Anything. Anything at all. Unbe-fucking-lievable. Of course, it won’t stay that way, but for now… They’re treating us well. They want this to work out well. They can’t cope with a big drop-out rate. Of course, it would be better if they were nasty to us, in which case you would weed out anyone who wasn’t serious about it pretty quickly. But they’re in charge. That’s part of it, you know, my life is just… out of control if I do this. Back when… there was always the possibility of just taking off for Africa, you know? No hope of that from Orion. But, whatever. I’ll deal. Don’t I always?
Jim

T minus two years, three months, one day

From: J. Zeer
To: F. Zeer
Hey Frankie,
How’s it going? Thought I’d drop you a line, make sure you were cool – Kat too, if she’s still around. This place… man. It just made me think, you know, and if it happens I’m not going to see you ever again, and it’s not like we’ve seen each other more than three times in the past decade, but still… you know. Write me back when you get the chance, OK? Be good to hear from you.
Give me something to add to the discussions around here – it’s all “my family this” and “my brother that” and “I miss them so much already” from the single folks, and the ones that are here as part of families wander around all smug and superior, and we’re so divisive right now it’s unreal. But hey. Who gives? See ya, bro.
Jim

From: J. Zeer
To: M. Zeer
Mikey,
I guess Mom told you I’m in the Santa Maria colony. It’s cool. It’s a good break for me, you know? I heard about Sally, man – congrats. Looks like getting anything here will be about ten times more complicated than in the real world; more because of the idea of confinement than anything else, it’s not like you worry about that if you live in the same city all your life. Hell.
I’m glad your life is going right, glad things are working out well for you. Maybe now they’re working for me. I hope you can be glad back.
Jim

From: J. Zeer
To: S. Zeer
Yo Sammy!
Dude! How’s it going? You still with Casey, man? ‘cause it sounds like he’s good for you. But then that’s Mom… (roll your eyes, you know you want to) I’m feeling kinda guilty I didn’t make time for a trip down to see you before I got myself locked up in this loony bin (and I know you’re not upset I didn’t come see you – I’m upset I didn’t come see the beaches, amigo!) but I get out of the slammer in two years, if they don’t kick me out first, and I’ll make a point of coming down there, OK? I mean it, man, you hold me to that. They give us two months to sort it all out, travel the world, visit with family and friends and sort out any shit we got left behind, and you, my boy, are getting at least a week of that. And you’re coming to Iceland with me.
Love you, man. Sorry I’m skipping out on you.
Jim

From: A. Jeffers
To: J. Zeer
Jim
How long do these take, by the way? Because I’m guessing you wrote on the first night, or near enough, and that’s three days ago – is there some big censoring effort going on or are they just inefficient? About the “don’t I always?” – um, no. You don’t. But you will. So relax.
You get anywhere with the hot chicas yet? Remember you’re going to spend the rest of your life running into them. And there’s a finite amount of bars to get blacklisted from. And a finite amount of available women, come to that.
Seriously, though, the tutor lady sounds hot, but if you’re going to be seeing her two hours a day for the next year you should cool it. Flirt, yeah, but don’t get into it or there will be hassle. Trust me. Remember what happened with me and Shyrri, or however the fuck she spelled it? Uh-huh. I know you do, because I collapsed on your couch for about a fortnight after she was through with me and I told you every single friggin’ detail. You were not best pleased with me.
Oh, crap. Turning into a “good old days” thing. Didn’t mean to. Have fun, my friend.
Alan

From: Mrs M. Zeer
To: J. Zeer
Dear Jimmy,
I’m so glad to hear you’re settling in well. You’re a very personable young man, and I’m sure you’ll have no difficulty widening your social circle. Just remember to be polite, for goodness’ sake!
About your accommodation – perhaps you could brighten it up with a few nice pictures? Nothing tasteless, though – especially if you’re going to be bringing girls back. Oh, I can just see your face, but I’m not stupid and I was young once myself. Believe me, Jimmy, nothing disgusts a nice girl quite as much as tacky pictures on a boy’s wall.
I talked to Michael today, and he didn’t know what was happening with you. You haven’t written to your brothers yet? I’m disappointed in you. Though I suppose it could be the post – it seems they’re having some difficulty with the systems at your end. Oh well. Do reply as quickly as possible.
Your loving mother,
Mary K. Zeer

There’s a small kitchen just down the corridor, and Jim takes advantage of his afternoon off to appropriate the room and indulge one of his odd little habits. The smell of baking biscuits wafts down the corridor, and draws enquiries from several of his neighbours – soon there is what amounts to a block party in and outside the kitchen. He makes five batches, and nobody cares that some of them are a little too chewy, and sometimes fingers get burnt when they are handed straight out of the oven. The biscuits are a focus, and by extension so is Jim – but he concentrates on mixing and measuring because all he wanted to do today was relax a little, but he has found himself at the centre of a crowd of strangers. He smiles easily and nods to people he vaguely recognises, but his heart isn’t in it, and eventually he escapes the party he started and lets somebody else do the washing-up.

Hey, Jim-boy!
Carl. Please don’t call me that.
But, Jimbo… oh, there’s no need to look at me like that.
What do you want, Carl?
Oh, now there’s a good question… all right, Jim, no shit. Baseball. Saturday. You in?
No.
Oh, come on. Baseball, man.
Don’t like it. Shit at it.
I don’t believe you.
You don’t have to.
You know, James my boy, you are coming off as hostile here.
Hm, I wonder why. Leave me be, Carl.
Jim. There’s no room for flakes on this project.
There’s room for anyone on this project. And I’m not a flake. I just… I guess I’m just a tad claustrophobic. Too many new people, too fast.
And I’m not helping that, am I?
Not really.
I’ll leave you to it, then. Sure you won’t play?
I’m shit. Seriously. I’m sure.
OK then. But come along and watch, if you want?
Yeah, maybe. I’ll see you around.
See ya.

From: J. Zeer
To: Mrs R.A. Keller
Dear Gran,
I just wanted to tell you that I’m living in the ground colony now. That means I can’t come and visit you any more. I’m really sorry about that. Be good for the nurses.
Your loving boy,
Jim

T minus two years, two months, three weeks, five days

Jim’s tired, and he knows that he needs to sleep more. But it’s hard for him, probably because he’s just not used to the way his life feels so totally out-of-control. Even in school, when he was sleeping in a dorm with five other guys and going to every class on time and doing homework in prep hours, he had some measure of choice – what he would study, what he would do in his free time. And now he still has free time, but he can’t think of anything to do with it. Because the chase is far less enjoyable when he is hunting alone, and the lessons he is learning are highly focussed, and the work he is doing is monotonous and dull since nobody needs to buy all that much yet. The high point of his week is the letters.

From: S. Zeer
To: J. Zeer
Jim
Dude. Gonna miss you.
Sam

From: F. Zeer
To: J. Zeer
Well, young James-me-lad, first of all, your information is out of date. It’s the lovely Seonaid who is currently keeping me company. But you’re right about the fact that we haven’t seen each other. And honestly, how often would we have been meeting up in the future anyway? This is a good opportunity for you, Jim. Don’t waste it on us.
Frank

From: J. Zeer
To: A Jeffers
Alan,
Looks like the letters take a few days, but I don’t know why – I think maybe they’re trying to acclimatise us for the time-lag once we get out there. Or maybe you’re right and they’re censoring like hell, in which case…
I’m not chasing anyone here. Give it time.
I can’t believe you’re quiet on the dating front, though. Probably doing a lot better without me to slow you down, right?
I don’t mind if you want to do the nostalgia thing, you know. It’s cool. Grounds me a bit, reminds me that I’m not just JAZ, 25, Services, training in Nav and then Morale. It’s like, maybe, I could slip away beneath the codes and I wouldn’t really exist any more but nobody would notice because there’s nobody that knows me. And christ but I’m in a weird mood right now.
Brothers – you know how it is. Always fuck me up and fuck me over, and it’s not like they even did anything this time, it’s all in my head, and… shit. Sorry.
Hell. Not like me dumping on you is anything new.
Jim

T minus two years, two months, three weeks, one day

From: A. Jeffers
To: J. Zeer
Jim
Feel free to dump on me any time. And I’ll do the same to you. We’re still good. And me dating? Please. Like I have the time right now. Or have you forgotten how much time a finalising essay swallows? It’s like a black hole but solely in the fourth dimension. I barely have the time to go out right now, let alone find someone. You, on the other hand, have scheduled days off. At least do some flirting? For my sake? A vicarious life is better than none at all.
Alan

From: Mrs M. Zeer
To: J. Zeer
Dear Jimmy,
Should I assume your letter was lost in the process?
There have, of course, been numerous interesting occurrences in our neighbourhood since you left. However, as you showed no interest in socialising while you were here I can only assume you have no wish to hear any of this news. Please disabuse me of this notion if it is untrue.
Your mother,
Mary K. Zeer

He had talked to the barmaid. Her name was Maggie, and she originally came from one of the Celtic areas – he wasn’t sure which, but he remembered the lilt she slipped into when he professed his disbelief. It was a very nice voice that she had. And it was a very nice whisky she recommended, and a very nice wine they shared. It turned out she was part of a family – her brother was in the command structure and her sister had decided that application would be a nice sibling bonding process in the wake of their parents’ deaths. Once Jim found this out, he backed off a bit. It was one thing for two people to be lonely together, but if she had family then that complicated things immensely. So he kissed her and left her in the bar as he went back to his room.

From: S. Tellegrin
To: J. Zeer
Dear Sir,
I am an employee of the above nursing home. Mrs Keller appeared greatly pleased to receive your communication, though she is of course unable to reply to it.
However, Sir, I couldn’t help but notice you said that you won’t be visiting again. Is this really necessary? You are her only regular visitor.
Any more letters you wish to send will, of course, be read to her.
Yours sincerely,
S. Tellegrin (Nursing Assistant)

From: J. Zeer
To: S. Tellegrin
Dear Sir or Madam:
Thank you for your concern for my grandmother’s welfare. Unfortunately I will not be able to return as I am now engaged in the trial of the Santa Maria colony.
I know this is asking a lot, but do you think someone could sit with her every now and then? And perhaps note down what she says in response to my letters? She may sound crazy, but she’s not – she just connects things too fast nowadays.
My biggest regret over leaving is that I’ll be leaving her. But she understands. If our positions were reversed, she would be going and I would be encouraging her.
Yours sincerely,
J. Zeer

T minus two years, two months, two weeks, three days

From: J. Zeer
To: Mrs M. Zeer
Dear Mom,
I’m sorry I didn’t write – see, I’m being honest – but I just got caught up in other things. And I wrote to my brothers. Mikey hasn’t got back to me yet, but the others both wished me luck, so that’s good. I got a note from a nurse at Gran’s home as well, talking about me being the only visitor. She is your mother, Mom. I know I won’t be here to visit you if you ever need it, but I’m not an only child.
I’ve been making a few friends – there’s a baseball tournament been set up that I keep going along to watch – it’s fun and you get to meet some nice guys. And the bar is getting quite popular, but since I was one of the first to show up I’m known as a regular, and Maggie always serves me as quick as she can. She’s a nice girl, but a bit too flighty. I ought to thank you for the recipe, actually – I made some of your famous cookies last week and they kicked off an impromptu block party. It was a good thing.
Classes are going well – it feels odd to be effectively back in the system, especially since the tutor for my group is slightly younger than me, but I’ll get over it. And Navigation is surprisingly interesting. The safety drilling, on the other hand, is awful. And the compulsory physical conditioning… Let’s just say I’ve been thinking of ways to sabotage the equipment in every gym in the place. But I’ll survive. I’ll adapt.
I don’t remember where I learned that.
Jim

From: S. Zeer
To: J. Zeer
Hey, man.
Not like I was communicative last time, huh? Just, y’know, you may not be right here but you’ve always been there for me, and now you’re not. Or won’t be. And that’s kinda scary.
But you asked about Casey. Man, he is so sweet. And gorgeous. And wonderful. And I’m, like, totally in love with him. It’s crazy. I’m crazy. Crazy for Casey. He’s good. We’re good. Thanks for caring.
What else, what else… You’re always welcome here, you know that, right? Whatever happens. Anything. Anything at all, man, you can come here. Well, unless you get kicked out for gay-bashing. (Joke, man… all right, I know you know, but… shit.)
Mikey dropped me a line. Says you’re abandoning the family and we should abandon you right back. Sorry.
Iceland, huh? That’s just… that’s a big remember-when, huh? All the other kids were, like, New York or Egypt or Polynesia or wherever the fuck was in, and we wanted Iceland. I’m with you, J. I’m right there.
Business is good here. Teaching all these daft tourists how not to drown… well, it beats working for a living. And you should see my skin tone – serious tan, looks like I was just about born here. Course, I think it looks better on my Case, but that’s probably more than you want to know.
Did I mention the next beach down has been taken over by naturists?
Sam

You don’t get many letters, Jimbo.
I get more than some, Carl.
You get more than the folks that have everyone they care about here.
Point.
You in double figures yet?
Not quite. It doesn’t bother me.
Yeah right. I saw you looking over at that chick with the mailbag to herself.
That was all her ex-pupils from the nursery she taught at. That’s different.
You don’t have anyone like that?
I have my family and a friend.
One whole friend? All to yourself? I’m impressed.
One good friend. Better than my family. And isn’t it better this way? Nothing pulling me to stay?
I guess so.
You got ties, Carl? You sure you can leave them here? ‘Cause if you’re not, you might as well just get out now.

From: J. Zeer
To: A. Jeffers
I’m getting hostile. All the time now. Being stuck here. It’ll sort, though. It’ll be cool. I just have to make it through the next week without killing anyone. Maybe it’s the full moon. Is it the full moon? I can’t remember. Will it still affect me when we’re gone on the Maria? It shouldn’t, I’m sure. Imagine that. No tides.
J

Jim woke at the beeping of his alarm, and cursed it heartily. He dragged himself out of bed, and saw in the mirror the face of a much older man – a wreck. Thankfully, a good wash and some basic stimulants sorted that out in time for his morning group. Dan was in her usual position, perched on the desk at the front of the room with her legs crossed and her skirt riding up almost enough… Jim sat heavily in his usual chair, slightly back and to one side of the room. There were only fifteen in the group, and they had a nasty tendency to spread out as far away from each other as possible. But then the whole point of the training was that any one of them should be able to pick up the necessary tasks. They didn’t have to like each other.

T minus two years, two months, one week, five days

From: J. Zeer
To: Mrs R.A. Keller
Dear Gran,
I miss being able to talk to you. I really do.
News-wise, there’s not much. Classes are happening, people are introducing themselves to me and vice-versa, and I still haven’t decorated my room. I know, I know, it’s important that it feel like home – I haven’t forgotten that lecture you gave me before you agreed to go into care. I’ll sort it out soon, I promise.
I think we’re in Arizona, if anyone can remember where that was precisely. It’s not like we notice at all – we might as well be on the ship already. Other than the booze, that is. There was this absolutely amazing mint liqueur… sorry. I find myself increasingly drawn to the bar; or is it the barmaid? Anyway, we’re closed in, artificially lit, nothing feels quite real in here. I guess it’s a good thing. I just need to acclimatise. That’s all.
Your boy,
Jim

One night, Jim didn’t go to the bar. Instead, he walked. And he thought. And he decided that he was becoming an addict five times over and he had to stop. It was that simple in his head.
He’d seen enough to know it wasn’t that simple in real life.
Cleaning out his room didn’t take long – while he had accumulated a few items, the very utilitarian nature of the room allowed a quick and efficient search. First, he cleaned his room. Then, he asked for help.

#Transcript of Session One
Patient: JAZ
Counsellor: LUN#
LUN: Why are you here today, Jim?
JAZ: I need help.
LUN: You’re asking for help?
JAZ: Looks like.
LUN: Most people have to be dragged in kicking and screaming.
JAZ: I’m not most people.
LUN: No, you’re not. Are you?
JAZ: I believe I’m in danger of becoming addicted to varied substances.
LUN: Such as?
JAZ: Alcohol. Tobacco. Opiates. Stimulants. SSRIs. Anything I’ve found a dealer for in this community.
LUN: There’s illegal activity here?
JAZ: Of course there is. There’s a police force, isn’t there?
LUN: I always thought it was the other way round – criminals leading to police.
JAZ: Egg.
LUN: Excuse me?
JAZ: Never mind. But, whatever, point is I need some help keeping a lid on this.
LUN: Repressing isn’t healthy.
JAZ: Blowing out the way I would if I didn’t repress is a whole hell of a lot worse.
LUN: Really?
JAZ: Trust me.
LUN: All your psych reports came back clean.
JAZ: And so they should. I am a consummate actor. Did I convince you, doctor?
LUN: I… this was all a… a ruse, then?
#End Transcript#