“I don’t know what to say to you,” I admit, after a pause when neither of us speak, just breathe together. I can’t tell if it’s an awkward silence. Have we been messaging for so long that it’s not possible for it to be uncomfortable? I don’t know.
“Me neither,” J replies. “I had all these things I was going to say, but my mind’s gone blank.”
I clear my throat. I feel hot. I made his mind go blank. Me. “How are you?”
“Well, Romy, right now I’m just desperate for the ships to join up. To see you in person.”
“Me too.” I say it quietly, almost scared to let him hear something which to me feels so big, so completely life-changing.
But J just glides over it, like we’re both on the same page, like it’s obvious. “I think next week we’ll be able to have video feeds too.”
I close my eyes again, almost dizzy at the thought of seeing and hearing J at the same time. This is almost too much as it is.
“I wish time could go faster,” I say.
“I know. Is it strange to know that I’m coming? I’ve never asked before. I can’t tell how you feel. Maybe you hate the idea.”
“Not at all.”
He lets out a gust of breath. “Good.”
“Do you know when you’ll be arriving yet?” I want to work out the exact number of hours, minutes and seconds until he’s here. “Are you still on schedule to arrive on the twenty-fifth of February?” That’s the date in the mission timeline that Molly sent me, nearly a year ago.
He grunts. “Yes.” There’s an awkward pause, then he says, “Listen, the computer is telling me that I have to go. I think we’re still too far apart for long conversations.”
“OK,” I say, disappointed that this was over so fast, and relieved that I’ll have time to process this new communication method before we talk any more. “Can we— Are we allowed to talk again? Maybe tomorrow? At the same time?”
“Yes. Definitely. I’d love that. Goodnight, Romy.”
“Goodnight, J.”
After we end the chat, I stare up at the ceiling, beaming so widely that my face might crack in half. I spoke to J, and it was nothing like I’d imagined, and everything I’ve ever wanted. He’s so perfect. He’s so real. I can’t wait to meet him.
DAYS UNTIL THE ETERNITY ARRIVES:
81
The next morning, all I can think about is talking to J again. We arranged to speak tonight, but that’s hours away and I can’t wait that long. I want to call him now.
I open up the audio communication program, hoping it won’t take too long to learn how to initiate a transmission. On the main menu is the option to scan for transmitters within range of the ship. I start the search, chewing on my nails. By now, they’re short stubs, torn away at the skin.
The Eternity pops up in the Contacts list, followed by a series of numbers – the International Celestial Reference Frame coordinates of the ship, probably, showing its position in space.
Available Contacts (1)
The Eternity [ICRFJ002133.9+472421] IM · Dial · Block
Reference coordinates aren’t usually included in the communications software I use. I wonder how far away The Eternity is now – will the time lag be noticeably shorter today? On a map, how far apart would our ships look?
I wonder if there’s a way to combine the communications software that J sent me with The Infinity’s guidance system. If I have the coordinates, there must be a way to display The Eternity’s location visibly. If I can set up a map, I could leave it running in the corner of the screen, and watch our ships get closer together until they finally meet and join as one. It would be so exciting to watch it.
I open up the guidance system, loading a map of the galaxy. Then I return to the communications software and export the code that controls the coordinate scanning. After some trial and error, I manage to import the code to the guidance system and create an almost functional mapping device.
I zoom in to the coordinates in the range [ICRFJ001500.0+300000] to [ICRFJ002400.0+500000], which I think should narrow the search field enough to pick up both mine and J’s ships visibly on the screen. Then I scan for nearby transmitters.
The Infinity pops up first, a tiny white oval on the black map. Then The Eternity’s icon appears, a blip that, to my disappointment, is still a huge distance away from The Infinity. I suppose closeness is relative in space. Just because we can talk now doesn’t mean J’s not still millions of kilometres away.
I’m about to shut down the map when another icon pops up on the screen. It’s labelled UPR. It’s in the same place as The Eternity.
I freeze, staring at the screen. The program must have made a mistake. The UPR’s headquarters are on Earth – they definitely aren’t in space with J and me.
It’s such a strange, impossible error that I restart the scanner, unsure how it could have imagined that the UPR are close by. The second time, the results are the same. The UPR pops up alongside The Eternity.
I don’t understand. I can’t make sense of any of this. I stare at the screen as my brain refuses to accept what I’m seeing. It looks like…
I rub my eyes, then read it again.
There must be an error with the software. This can’t be possible.
I shake my head and close down the program. It’s kind of funny, in a way. The Eternity and the UPR are seventeen trillion kilometres apart. I force myself to smile. What a silly mistake.
Abruptly, I stand up and walk across the room. Then I stop and turn back to stare at the computer.
I should prove it’s a mistake. Just to be absolutely certain. It will only take a few seconds. If I check the UPR’s emails and find their real coordinates on Earth, then it will be obvious that the scanning software has got it wrong.
After walking back to the computer, I go into my emails. I access the source code of the raw transmission data from the last email I received from the UPR, searching for the origin coordinates. They must be hidden somewhere in the code.
When I find them, the coordinates are listed as being somewhere in space again. Not on Earth at all. This isn’t just a malfunction with the audio program or guidance software. This is … something else. Something I don’t understand.
Going through the last ten messages from the UPR, I plot out the coordinates and display them on my map. Every message was sent from a different place. The coordinates follow a straight line between Earth and The Infinity, as if whatever is transmitting the messages is getting closer to me every time. The messages from the UPR follow the path of The Eternity.
The coordinates don’t lie. Every message from the UPR is coming from the same route as The Eternity.
Nothing makes any sense. I check the origin coordinates of my messages from J, clinging desperately to the hope that there’s been some kind of computer error.
Every email sent from J and the UPR has had matching coordinates for the last six months. Both have come from the same place every single time. How can the UPR be emailing me from The Eternity?
I can only think of one explanation, but my mind refuses to accept it. It’s impossible.
Fear weighs down my ribs, forcing my breaths back inside my lungs instead of letting them free.
Someone on The Eternity has been sending emails to me as the UPR.