Feb 2nd, 2347
Beyond the initial exploration, Richard had ventured only marginally into the span of the sphere. His inclination was to delve deeply into a singular area, absorbing as much knowledge as possible. With every layer uncovered, new teachings presented themselves—what then, was the lure of broad exploration? Yet, within the limited expanse he'd come to know, there rested his favored chamber. This space, reasonably vast at its foundation, stretched expansively toward its apex, merging seamlessly with the transparent outer casing of the sphere. Here, he could gaze upon the actual stars scattered across the cosmos. Not mere fabrications like the simulations Janice crafted back at the colonies, nor the obscured vistas Earth's atmosphere permitted—these were the unadulterated stars.
It was for this very reason—his affinity for the celestial sight—that Richard had chosen this room to cultivate their garden. As he stood amid the lush vegetation, the garden teemed with life, offering not just nourishment but a token of natural abundance. The aroma of damp earth mingled with the verdant fragrance of growing things. He selected a leafy green whose texture struck a chord of both strangeness and recognition beneath his touch, lifting it to his nostrils in search of a connection to the organic world—a connection more profound than he had recognized was absent.
Although the food synthesized by AI was almost indistinguishable from its natural counterpart on a molecular level, there was an ineffable quality that the mind always seemed to discern. Yoon's creations, though not strictly natural, at least sprouted from the soil, which lent an authenticity to their existence and a depth to their taste that no synthetic process could perfectly replicate.
Brenda processed things differently. She regarded this room primarily in terms of its function, its role within the larger scheme of their mission. She didn't connect with its vibrancy in the same visceral way that he did. He turned to share his thoughts and noted, with some surprise, that she was clad in a dress. He was quite certain she'd been dressed differently just moments before and struggled to recall when he had last seen her in such garb. Was it the early days, before the advent of BioNano? For centuries, it had always been the lab coat until he had jokingly pointed out that they were superfluous—clothing no longer required safeguarding, nor did the people wearing it; both could simply repair themselves. Yet, her attire had remained practical, until now. Here she was in a short, yellow sundress. Richard's brow creased in puzzlement.
The realization of her unusual attire redirected him to the fact that she was pregnant, jolting him out of his reflective state and back into one of astonishment. Richard had never been adept at handling surprises, his typical cycle being a predictable sequence: delay, denial, anger, argument, and finally, resolution. This pattern had become known to both of them over the centuries, an anticipated dance they engaged in time and again, despite its repetition. Now, Richard found himself transitioning from anger and edging into argument—a familiar territory in their enduring relationship.
"You know, if you had designed the BioNano to prevent conception as a foreign body, the collapse of Earth could have been avoided," Richard said, his unresolved issues fueling a sharp outburst. It was a biting remark, one that stung with multiple layers of implied blame and what-ifs.
"That very thought keeps me up many a night," Brenda replied, her voice traveling solemnly from meters away. The ambient lighting softly outlined her reflective expression, while the luminescent plants around them cast hues of blues and golds upon her face, almost integrating her into the living tapestry of the alien sphere they had come to nurture. Richard felt a pang of remorse wash over him for his cutting words. His intention wasn't to wound; he was seeking an outlet, a sparring partner for his internal turmoil.
Richard, attempting to divert their exchange away from the thorny path it had taken, broached a new subject. "Have you ever seen a natural-born?" His recent interactions with Brisleda, who required constant explanations, made him momentarily overlook that Brenda shared his longevity and his experiences as a witness to Earth's decline.
Brenda, opting to let Richard's question hang in the ether, reached for a small red fruit hanging from a vine that climbed ambitiously out of sight. Richard had whimsically dubbed it a Crunchberry—a charming moniker that seemed to capture its unique essence. The orb's surface was mottled with deep reds, adorned with green dimpled pips like tiny jeweled indentations, and crowned with a leafy tuft, hinting at a playful mimicry of Earthly strawberries.
With an effortless twist borne from an instinct now tailored to their off-world agriculture, she dislodged it from its botanical home. The fruit yielded to her touch, an implicit promise of the sumptuous experience to come.
Lifting the Crunchberry, she anticipated the burst of flavor as her incisors breached the skin with a satisfying snap. A flood of juice spilled over her tongue, but the sensation was betrayed by an unconventional texture—an interior firmness akin to radish that engaged in a peculiar tango with the sweetness of the outer flesh. Her palate, caught off guard, tried to reconcile the earthy bite with the bold tangy essence, a stark contrast to anything she’d sampled on ancient Earths' orchards or groves.
Her instincts led her to release the Crunchberry, letting it fall to the ground. The action triggered a swarm of airborne transmuters to converge on the discarded fruit. They descended in a silent microscopic swarm, their mission to dismantle and repurpose the organic matter. Within minutes, what was once a product of careful cultivation was now returned to its elemental form, ready to be recoded and reshaped at the whim of human visionaries, a cypher of potential in their engineered Eden.
She continued their conversation, bringing up the past with a certain acerbity. "When we left Earth, I did not expect our retrouvailles or the numerous pairings that our forced togetherness would incite." Her tone soured notably on the word 'forced.' "Nor did I think our journey would last beyond a year; that's when my birth control expired. I would hold you responsible, but the very technology I created would neutralize any contraceptives you might use." Her revelation highlighted not only the unforeseen extension of their mission but also the unintended personal consequences of their mutual ingenuity and the quandaries they now faced.
"So we are really going to do this... here, amidst these glowing plants and beneath such an empty expanse, inside this forlorn, long-uninhabited space?" Richard's gesture encompassed the lustrous gardens, laden with the soft light from bioluminescent plants, as he contemplated the cavernous void above, feeling the weight of the stark, hollow expanse around them. He could hardly fathom the idea of new life in what felt like a relic of sterility and forgotten endeavors.
"The die has already been cast. It's a boy, Dad," Brenda responded, her hand instinctively caressing the small, burgeoning life within her. The confirmation of the child's existence and gender was tangible in her tender gesture.
A mix of irritation and resignation laced his words, "I was hoping for a little variety." He spoke with a slight edge of accusation, as though the determination of the child's sex were somehow within her control. His mind cycled through the implications of impending fatherhood. Memories of his other sons surfaced—one a stranger shaped by forces unknown to him, another swayed by the collective ethos of the community they had left behind. Despite the complex weave of emotions, the prospect of directly influencing his child, to instill in him the sense of wonder for the constantly unfolding enigmas of their extraordinary surrounding, held a certain allure. The opportunity to be an active parent in shaping a life anew was a frontier all its own.
"You know, two years in and we've barely scratched the surface. We're going to be out here for quite some decades," Richard mused aloud, becoming momentarily entranced by the future he envisioned—a future where laughter from children at play intermingled with the artificial sounds of alien birds amidst the lush greenery of their artificial ecosystem. "This place could become a pasture teeming with youngsters."
Brenda assessed Richard with an expression that hovered between amusement and earnestness. Her eyes momentarily took in the fungi around them—mushrooms growing in meticulous geometric patterns that not only aided their spore distribution but also seemed to dance before the eyes of their human caretakers. "Don't even think about pushing me to the sidelines of this!" she announced with playful resolve. "I'll order the fabricators to produce some old-fashioned rubbers for you. If you're planning on joining the game, suit up appropriately, or you'll be benched."
Richard's laugh, sparked by Brenda’s playful challenge, filled the air, melding with the sounds of the artificial stream that wound its way through their enclosure. The deliberately arranged stones created soft, musical clatters as the water flowed over them—a testament to their efforts to inject beauty and harmony into their technological world.
"What, you don't think I can hold out longer than you can?" Richard teased, a twinkle of competition lighting his face, despite the complex tapestry of feelings that the conversation had woven.
Her countenance shifted slightly as she retorted, her tone laced with an edge sharper than she meant to convey, "I was alone for 100 years while you worked your way through various colonists. I always have my work. But your penis requires constant attention." The words bit into the air between them, carrying more venom than she intended—a glimpse of deeper currents beneath her usually calm exterior.
"Three is hardly working through the colony," Richard rejoined defensively, before realizing the precarious path the conversation was taking. Eager to steer away from the contentious topic, he gestured towards a fruit hanging nearby that closely resembled a skinless orange, hoping the distraction would diffuse the tension.
The emotional journey and the fleeting moment of discord now behind him, Richard found himself on familiar, safer ground. Brenda, perceptive to the subtle alterations in his demeanor, placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. It was her quiet way of reaffirming their mutual support. As they stood side by side, the weight of their words seemed to dissipate, leaving space for the steady bond that had endured the test of time and would continue to do so as they embarked on this next, uncharted stage of life together.