The panel looks normal, but maybe the blockage is on the other side. I open it and shine my headlight inside. I’m expecting to see rows of boxes, but instead there are stacks of neatly folded fabric.
One of the stacks has collapsed and the material floats in mid-air, clumping against the panel’s opening. Presumably it set off the computer’s sensors.
I’m overwhelmed by the amount of fabric here. It has never occurred to me to track down the fabric supplies on the ship before. There are boxes of ready-made clothes in different sizes in the lower levels of the stores, but it’s all in the unisex, functional style of NASA uniforms. Most of the time that means dungarees. With uncut fabric, I could design and make my own clothes completely from scratch. Pretty things, like dresses and skirts and cardigans – and scarves!
My mother was always sewing. It was one of the things she liked doing best, after the astronauts. She would disappear into a small corner in the back of the sick bay, and reappear days later with an intricate piece of embroidery she’d created on an old blanket or towel.
When Dad and I would coo over them, she’d hand them to us, already picking up more material. The embroideries used to hang on the walls of the corridor, their bright colours and abstract designs lighting up the grey walls. I tore them all down when my parents died and put them in the organic waste disposal. I wish I hadn’t, now that the anger has dulled a little. They were beautiful. There’s nothing on the walls any more except the crayon drawings I used to do as a child.
Sometimes, if I begged my mother and she was feeling really good, she would show me how to thread a needle or tie a knot. But after only a few minutes she would just freeze, and this horrible expression would come over her face when she looked at me. Then she’d disappear into the sick bay again, and we’d go back to only seeing her when we brought her food.
I could never understand what I did wrong. What was it about me that stopped her from loving me the way Dad did? I think I must have been too loud, too energetic for her.
Hovering in place, I pull the sheaths of fabric into the tunnel, clearing the obstruction. I’m definitely taking some of it back with me.
I see a shining mustard-yellow fabric and add that to my pile, already planning the outfits I can make. I can’t resist choosing a beautiful pale purple fabric and a vivid dark green one as well.
Wrapping the material around my shoulders, I memorize the other colours I can see, so I can plan what to take next time.
For now, I think I should go back to the living quarters. I’m feeling a bit … tired. There are tiny little bumps all over my arms and I feel kind of shivery, especially in my lower back.
By the time I reach ground level, my lips and fingertips are slightly numb. Maybe I’m getting ill? When I give a full-body shudder, the sensation reminds me of an animal from a cartoon, shivering in the snow. I’m cold, I realize, surprised.
The lumps on my arms must be goosebumps. I run my fingers over them, amazed that my body has been able to do something so strange all this time, without me knowing about it.
I’ve never been cold before. The climate on the ship is always set at a comfortable room temperature.
I wrap myself in a blanket, trying to work out why I’m suddenly freezing. Has the temperature of the ship dropped somehow?
At the helm, there’s another error message on the screen. It’s hours old:
POWER FAILURE IN HEATER 43(f)
The heating system must have crashed and shut down while I was in the stores. No wonder I’m shivering – the temperature of the ship has lowered by six degrees. I’m lucky that only one of the heater quadrants failed. If all of the ship’s temperature regulators had shut down, I would have died, frozen in my tunnel as the heat leaked out into space and the temperature dropped below zero.
I reboot the heater, wrapping myself in more blankets while it begins working in overdrive to raise the temperature again.
I attempt to start analysing the system data to isolate what exactly went wrong, but I end up staring blankly at the screen, lost in thought. The letters blur and double before my eyes.
I don’t understand why there have been so many system failures so long after the new software was installed. It’s natural for a new OS to have a few bugs, but this is ridiculous. First the embryo freezers, then the air-conditioning and lighting, and now the heating.
I have no idea what to do about it. I’ve tried every troubleshooting solution I can think of, but I still can’t work out where all the shortages are coming from. Even though I’ve asked the UPR and J for advice, by the time they work out what the problem is and send me the solution, it’ll be far too late.
Maybe it’s time for me to accept that this ship is old now. That it’s falling apart around me.
I just have to hope that The Eternity gets here before The Infinity breaks down permanently. All I can do until then is keep saving as much power as possible to try and make sure the ship lasts that long.
Once J is here, all my problems will disappear. I just have to hold on.
DAYS UNTIL THE ETERNITY ARRIVES:
125
From: The Eternity Sent: 16/07/2067
To: The Infinity Received: 23/10/2067
Romy,
Sometimes I feel like you’re the only thing in my life that I can depend on. Everything around me is in a constant flux of uncertainty, except for you. You’re always there for me. The Eternity is a beaut, but it doesn’t feel like home to me. You do. And I feel that way even though I’ve only ever emailed you! Imagine how I’ll feel when we’re spending every day together.
I’m so psyched to meet you in person. It’s better talking to you now that we’re sending messages back and forth with less of a delay. It’s more of a conversation now I get your reply after only a few weeks.
I think that the first time we meet we’ll have to sit down and just tell each other things for three days straight. I usually end up cutting out half of what I’ve written in these emails, because they get so long. I can’t help it. I never mean to, but as soon as I start writing, it turns out I have so much to tell you.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that I really like you, Romy. More than I expected to. To be honest, I was really nervous about getting in touch – I had no idea what you would be like. Now I can’t wait to see you.
I wonder if we would have been friends, if we had been meeting in less exceptional circumstances. I hope so. I really do, neighbor.
J xx
J likes me! Probably just as a friend, of course – but that’s more than I was expecting! He likes me!
I can feel myself blushing, alone on my spaceship in the middle of a galaxy. I feel like the stupidest teenage girl ever to exist, getting hysterical over a boy. A boy who likes talking to me so much that he can’t help but tell me everything he feels.