Jim had always dreamed of exploring. So when, one drunken night, Alan suggested they sign up for the projected deep space mission Santa Maria, he agreed. He thought nothing of it for months, until one sunny April morning…
“Jimmy!” the call came up the stairs, and he cursed quietly as he pulled himself out of bed. It was a kid’s name, and he was twenty-five for christ’s sake. True, he still lived at home, but single people didn’t get houses any longer, with the population expanding the way it was. “What?!” he yelled back as he yanked on his trousers. “Visitor!” came the reply. He knew that meant a stranger, so he added a shirt and ran a comb through his impossible hair before he went down to meet whoever it was.
#Transcript of interview, 10:32 4th April 2076
Subject: James Allen Zeer (JAZ)
Interviewer: KPT
Also present, Mrs Mary Keller Zeer (MKZ).#
~Preliminary notes: Subject appears somewhat careless of appearance, but has an engaging manner and cheerful attitude.~
KPT: I’m here to conduct a preliminary interview on behalf of the Santa Maria Project. You applied for a position some months ago, correct?
JAZ: Um, yeah, but… I mean, I kinda forgot about it. I made the first cut, then?
KPT: Obviously.
JAZ: Cool. So, uh, what do you want to know?
KPT: Well, first I need to check on your family situation – you know, of course, that if it works out for you this is a permanent assignment?
JAZ: Yeah… yeah, I know that. Not like I can catch a flight home from halfway across the galaxy.
MKZ: You mean that Santa Maria? The spaceship?
KPT: We prefer the term mobile colony.
MKZ: My little boy… going away forever?
JAZ: Mom, it probably won’t happen. This is just the first stage. And wouldn’t you be proud of me if I got it?
KPT: Perhaps this discussion could wait for another time? I’m on a schedule.
JAZ: Sorry. Uh, my family is Mom and my brothers. Cousins and stuff too, but they don’t really count.
KPT: No significant other?
JAZ: Uh, no, never found the right girl.
KPT: You’re heterosexual, then. That helps.
JAZ: Um, why? I mean, does it really matter?
KPT: An isolated colony needs breeding couples. Of course, there will be an artificial insemination program in place, but it’s generally better just to do it naturally.
JAZ: I see.
MKZ: I’ll have grandchildren I never see…
JAZ: Mom. Could you, maybe, go weed the garden? Let me do the interview?
MKZ: I suppose so, dear. Call if you need anything. Nice to meet you.
KPT: You too, Mrs Zeer.
#MKZ exited the room#
KPT: Would that be a problem for you? Leaving your mother behind?
JAZ: Hell no. I’m one of four, you know, and I’ve always been the disappointment. The only reason I’m still here is that I’m the only one who couldn’t manage to settle down. Who didn’t want to settle for something I didn’t really want.
KPT: But you do want the Santa Maria.
JAZ: I do.
KPT: That’s good. Now, how about your health? Anything there?
JAZ: I’m clean. And my risk factors are low – low as they can be, most of them. A slight genetic for heart disease, but that’s all.
KPT: Intakes?
JAZ: Average at or below recommended maximum, a few binges in the past.
KPT: Emotionally?
JAZ: I’m fairly secure in myself. Family issues you know about, some lingering sexuality worries in the wake of my spectacular lack of success in school, some… Don’t you have my psychologist’s report anyway?
KPT: Yes, but it’s nice to hear it in your own words – good that you’re open about what problems you have.
JAZ: Right.
KPT: What else normally gets covered in these interviews?
JAZ: You’re the one that has to do fifteen of them a day.
KPT: Twenty-four, six days a week for the next eight weeks.
JAZ: Wow. That’s… how many?
KPT: Eleven hundred and fifty-two.
JAZ: And there’s going to be, what, a few hundred others just like you?
KPT: Surprisingly enough, not all that many – a lot of the applicants were weeded out straight away thanks to commitments here or psychological problems.
JAZ: I guess you’re going more for families than singles, yeah?
KPT: We’re looking to build a natural community, but yes, families are a priority.
JAZ: Our children are our future, huh?
KPT: Literally, here. If the Santa Maria was to conform to current Earth standards, in a century or so there wouldn’t be enough young people to run the ship and support the elderly.
JAZ: How would elderly people fit in? And what about people getting sick?
KPT: Like I said, we’re looking to build a natural community. Circumstances would be very similar to those here with regard to health and public services – it would simply be a little more constrained. And contraception would not be a part of it.
JAZ: Yeah, what about non-reproductive partnerships?
KPT: I thought you were looking for a girl?
JAZ: I’m not allowed to be curious now? I can’t be part of an intolerant society.
KPT: No?
JAZ: I wouldn’t know how to fit in. I’ve always been raised to be absolutely egalitarian.
KPT: That’s good. There’s no room for bigots on the Maria.
JAZ: So you’re testing me here.
KPT: That is kind of the point. There will be extensive testing, if you get past this stage – full psychological work-up, full physical, team exercises, several more interviews, aptitude tests…
JAZ: I thought I was just going to be, y’know… doing what I do here.
KPT: You will. Services, right? You will. But you’ll have to be trained in one of the essential colony functions in case of emergency.
JAZ: So that’s yet another consideration in the process.
KPT: Yes. When it comes down to it, we want people who will fit into this colony, work well as a part of it and generally make it a nice place to live. The flight crew have already been selected from the corps at the space centres, but they were all judged on the same criteria we’re now using on civilians like yourself. We may not technically have the absolute best pilots, engineers, command crew etcetera; but we have the right people for the job.
JAZ: That’s comforting to know.
KPT: Hey, I’m the one supposed to be doing the questioning here.
JAZ: So keep asking.
KPT: Um… OK, yeah, I don’t have anything to say. Um… right. Can you give me an example of an occasion when you worked in a team to overcome a specific interpersonal difficulty?
JAZ: No. I mean, I’m sure I could warp something to tell you that, but… huh. At my… third job? The manager was a bit of a control freak, so three of us got together and cornered him after our shift and told him to stop messing us around. That count?
KPT: You couldn’t have made that sound a bit… I don’t know, better?
JAZ: What, “solved the problem through oral communication, with a spokesperson and two others (including me) as a backing force”?
KPT: Something like that.
JAZ: Nah. Can’t stand spin.
KPT: I’m getting that.
JAZ: Going to make me do more of them?
KPT: I don’t think so. I think you’ve made a sufficient impression by yourself.
JAZ: Is that a good thing?
KPT: It’s not up to me.
JAZ: But…
KPT: I think you’ve got a good chance. If you want it enough.
#End transcript#
“Hey, Gran,” Jim greeted the old lady, dipping his head to look her in the eye. She flashed an absent smile at him. “I got an interview the other day,” he continued as he sat in front of her, “for the Santa Maria. You know, the ship they’re sending out…” “Ocean blue,” she stated confidently. “Um, it’s a space ship,” he corrected. She gave him a slightly scornful glance, and he racked his brains to see if he could find the reason for the non-sequiter. She tapped the arm of her wheelchair impatiently, and as he picked up the rhythm he worked out her reference. “In fourteen-hundred… of course. Yes, it’s named after his flagship – journeying to the New World and all.” She frowned slightly, then swallowed and spoke again. “Reef,” she said. “I’ll look up what happened to it,” he promised. “Reef,” she repeated. He returned her frown and asked, “It was the one that sank, wasn’t it?” He dropped his head back in resignation and his laugh rang briefly around the hall. The odd visitor or staff member looked his way, startled at the sudden burst of noise in this place filled with the sedate and the sedated. “I won’t be here next week, all right? I have the tests,” he said, catching up the rest of his actual news before he settled into the general chat of his visit. His grandmother nodded, and kept her gaze focussed in mid-air.
“I’d like to welcome you all here. Now, what we’re going to be doing today is an assortment of psychological tests. Just hook into the viewer in front of you, and you’ll get full instructions. I’m sure you’ve all done enough of these to know that you must be completely honest, but I’ll repeat it anyway. Other than that, all I have to tell you is that lunch is at one. Have fun testing.” Jim quickly scanned the room as everyone settled down to the task at hand. Catching the eye of an attractive brunette doing the same thing, he gave her a lingering smile before turning his attention to the screen. The questions started out standard, and got more intricate, and soon he found himself happily immersed in a sea of theory. When they broke for lunch, he didn’t want to move, but he knew that this was also important – that he be seen to be outgoing and socially competent. So he mingled, working the room with an efficiency he thought he had forgotten, flirting mildly with a few people, and betraying no evidence of his inward sigh of relief when they were herded back to the room full of viewers.
The next day, there were fewer people. Jim filled out another two tests waiting for his appointment with the doctor, then went through the routine physical and interview with medical staff. He did his thing at lunch again, finding one or two people who looked to become good friends if they all got through. After lunch was a teamwork exercise, and while Jim’s team did fairly abysmally at the task set, they managed to have fun in the process and got themselves noticed by one of the selectors.
That night, Jim was about ready to go to bed when his mother called up the stairs. “Alan!” she informed him. “Send him up!” Jim replied, and sat up on his bed to greet his friend. Alan walked in and stood uncomfortably by the door. “I heard you got onto the Santa Maria,” he said without preamble. “Interviews only, Alan,” was the reply, “it’s not like I’ll actually get it.” Alan looked down at the floor. “You will,” he said, “I can tell. You’re a great guy. You’re right for this. Just, y’know…” He dipped his head to the side, and tensed up even more. Jim stared. Alan took another breath, and murmured, “They didn’t even interview me, you know. Too many connections, I guess.” He pouted slightly, then caught himself and stopped. Slumping on the bed, Jim stated softly: “I’ll miss you. If I get it. Which I won’t.” “But if you do…” his friend prompted. “I’ll miss you.”
The morning of day three consisted of an aptitude test and yet another interview. While Jim appreciated that the intensive approach was probably for the best, it still bugged him that he didn’t have time to step back from it all a little and think about it. He considered voicing his opinions just so they would chuck him out, but realised with some shock that he actually wanted to get the position. He never wanted. He had learned not to.
Another teamwork exercise in the afternoon, and Jim found himself, in one of those odd moments of cognitive dissonance that sometimes struck him, pushing the brunette from day one over a high wall while whistles blew all around him and lights flashed in his eyes. He tried not to think about the way his hand slid so perfectly down the curve of a calf muscle.
After two more days of varied testing, Jim was exhausted and depressed. He had made a fool out of himself, he was sure, and would find himself dropped from the list of potential candidates – though the fact that he had lasted the full five days boded well. He was supposed to be going out for a drink with Alan – but he passed out on the couch in the living room instead, light from the vid on the viewer flickering over his face and giving his dreams an oddly hallucinatory quality.
He didn’t hear from the Santa Maria crowd. At all. One day, while at work, he saw a man from the course and waved to him. He was deliberately ignored, because a shop assistant is so far beneath a man like that to be unworthy of notice. Perhaps, Jim mused, it was possible that he hadn’t really been seen. Or perhaps everybody thought that the Santa Maria would be filled with the cream of society. Though what good that would do with nobody to do the boring jobs, he didn’t know.
The news came through after he had almost settled back into a normal routine. Work every day, home for dinner with his mother and occasionally other family members, going out a couple of nights a week with Alan and maybe other friends to flirt through the population of the bars. “We are pleased to offer you…” It felt like a death sentence.
