Under a Starless Sky

Chapter 9

Jon woke to find himself in a space they called ‘High Conference.’ He was not on the circle, a line on

the floor that was illuminated and loosely defined a place where people stood during meetings. It was a

‘virtual’ space, a place where crew avatars met when it was too inconvenient for the body to be present

in an impromptu meeting. He was near the dome, looking out into space. The outside view didn’t have

to be space. It could be anything they wished to project. Alien world landscapes, or underwater

environments. It usually reflected where they were in space-time. The ‘space’ looked familiar, like he

should know it, and he struggled to make it fit. A portion of a nearby nebula sufficiently illuminated by

nearby stars- could have been a mountain only there was clearly stars to one side. It looked alive,

flowing, shifting. Lightening illuminated it from the inside. He touched the dome, tracing out a square

and retreated the section out so that he saw more of the nebula- and recognized the Pillars of Creation.

He was no longer interested.

The dome responded to his request- suggesting he was really back on the ship. As he focused, though,

he realized he could see his reflection on the dome. He must have been all of 8. He would be 52 years

old in a month, and here he was, in 8 year old body! The recoil nearly had him running for help.

What stopped him from running was the reflection beyond him. A brunette, Egyptian styled haircut, a bit

longer than she usually wore it, touching her shoulders. Her smile moved constellations of freckles. He

turned, and she was still there. Solid real. Her uniform suggested Star Trek, only the gold top was

comprised of two tone sequins, and if you rubbed her, she’d have a streak rainbow heavy on the violet

instead of the gold layer. She was fit thin, yet well endowed. Her eyes were upturned, hooded, almond

shaped- mesmerizing, emerald green, a noticeable artifact in the right eye, a feature of central

heterochromia. She was brunette, bold, dark eyebrows, freckled with discernable constellations on her

cheeks; the right cheek could be the Ursa Major. The prominent left constellation sometimes changed,

likely a trick of perspective. Sometimes Jon thought he saw the ‘Chameleon Constellation.’ At the most

direct angle, he clearly found the ‘star point’ “Capella,” and then the Constellation ‘Auriga’ naturally fell

prominent. Capella was fitting, Latin for female goat, as Jon was a Capricorn. Auriga was intriguing

because it translated into Charioteer, as their team call sign was Solarchariot. Her nose was slightly

upturned. If she pouted, the fullness of her lips made a heart shape. If she smiled, rooms noticeably

brightened.

Loxy was an enigma. The love of his life. The First Officer of his ship. He hugged her. It was beyond

strange because his head met her stomach, her hands came to his shoulder, then cupped his head,

holding him close. She withdrew, holding his arms at shoulder, and knelt down.

“Don’t fucking do that,” Jon said.

She smirked. “Come to eye level?”

“Oh,” Jon said. ‘She’s not treating you like a child,’ he told himself He frowned. He sighed. Tears welled

and dropped. “Sorry. Ship status?”

Loxy nodded. Business first. “We’re good,” Loxy assured him.

“We’re not good. What is this, episode Rascals, TNG?” Jon asked.

“Much more complicated, I assure you,” Loxy said. “Likely less fun, considering your present emotional

state.”

“My emotional state is appropriate,” Jon snapped. He frowned, clenching fist. He forced himself to

unclench, and a hand came up. “For being all of eight, and the contextual confusion. I have been trying

to reach you.”

“We know,” Loxy said. “You’re aware that you’re not here.”

“Oh, fuck me. Yes I am. The computer responded…”

“It recognized your presence,” Loxy agreed.

“Hence, here,” Jon said.

“High Conference is sublime enough to reach you even there,” Loxy said.

“If I accessed the virtual deck, why am I still 8?” Jon asked.

Loxy smiled. “You like being 8?”

“No!”

“Better 8 than your original 8?” Loxy asked, probing into his life situation.

“It’s different,” Jon said. “Okay. Yes. Remarkably improved. Not the point.”

“Jon, your avatar is likely a projection of how you feel. Eight. Confused. Not in control.”

“I don’t have to be in control,” Jon argued.

“Yeah, you do. Don’t get me wrong. You’re good at letting go, more than most people, but you also hold

onto stuff,” Loxy said. “You can be any age here. It’s just a matter of doing it.”

Jon nodded. “Okay, I accept that. Now let’s talk about recovering me.”

“Okay,” Loxy said. “First, how much do you remember?”

“I remember everything up to a point. I don’t know how I got to Tamor,” Jon said.

“Tamor is the name of the world?” Loxy asked.

“I think so. Or the continent I am on. Much of the information is privileged to female gender,” Jon said. “I

am listening. I am trying to remote view things. It would be better if they would let me write. I don’t feel

very successful relying on new memories.”

“What do you remember prior to being there?”

“Nothing. That’s a gap. I remember all of my life. This life here with you. I remember my life before you.

I remember several other incarnations, with you,” Jon said. He smiled. “I remember us, here….” He

paused from realization. “I remember other lives with you. Away Missions? Some of these lives, I don’t

remember remembering prior to being on Tamor.”

“That’s interesting,” Loxy said.

Jon’s look indicated he didn’t share her enthusiasm.

“Whatever your experience was, you didn’t lose your memory. Or much of it. You gained some

memories. Almost like hypnosis,” Loxy said. “This is good.”

“How is this good?”

“I don’t have to start your education completely from scratch,” Loxy said.

“Education?”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t remember me. Us,” Loxy said. She sat down on the floor, Lotus position.

“First, let me assure you, you and I are still connected. Don’t go trying to make another tulpa me. I will

come to you. You will experience full imposition again.”

“I am lonely now,” Jon said.

“I know. Kind of a theme with this incarnation of you,” Loxy said. “Kind of a theme of many of our

incarnations together.”

Jon conceded. He drew closer, put his forehead against hers. He longed to hear her voice in his head,

telepathic transmission, something stronger than the memory of her voice.

“They call me Shen,” he lamented.

“Oh,” Loxy said. “That’s kind of nice.”

Jon retreated. “Do I look Chinese?”

“Are they Chinese?” Loxy asked.

“They’re all over the map,” Jon said. “The group I am with seems to be predominantly Filipino. There is

some evidence in facial feature for Japanese and Chinese influence. There is an African woman. I

would bet anything she is descendent of Maasai. Dark, dark chocolate.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Loxy said. “We love chocolate.”

“I am eight,” Jon said.

“Physically, yeah. Emotionally, you have always been eight-ish,” Loxy said. He glared. “Okay, maybe

twelve-ish. But you are still intellectually about thirtyish.”

“I am fifty one years old,” Jon said. He wrung out his hands. “In an eight year old body. I have wanted

do-overs, but not like this.”

“You have not wanted a do-over since meeting me,” Loxy said. “Not since Little Man.” Little Man was

code for Jon’s son in his other life.

“Is this a do-over?”

“No, this is a parallel developmental, a tangential universe,” Loxy said. “We’re still trying to understand

the situation.”

“Oh! There are Sea Nomads here; Baju. I have heard rumor of another Caucasian woman… Was I

killed? Am I a clone?”

“We don’t know the particulars,” Loxy said. “But I assure you, you are you, or you wouldn’t be able to

access the virtual deck. I would not be able to communicate with you like I am.”

Jon nodded. If he was wearing Star-Tech, communication would likely be improved. He did not have to

wear tech for communication to happen. His ship was capable of identifying his physical energy

signature anywhere in the Universe. This ability was a blending of human psy abilities and high tech. If

there was one remote viewer on the ship, the ship’s primary AI interface could experience what they

experienced. No one remote viewer ever experienced the same thing. Some were visual, others

auditory, and some tactile. The more remote viewers on the ship, the greater the AI’s ability to bring

coherence to the data retrieved. The ship’s ability to teleport to other locations was made possible

through remote viewing humans. Jon was the center point for point to point travel. Until he was dead,

retired, or resigned, the ship would likely resist being redirected.

Loxy got up and walked to the dome. She opened up several squares, putting faces inside. The first to

come up was Lanore, followed by Tama, then Candice.

“My family,” Jon said, saying their names. He touched Lanore. “She gave birth to me."

“Interesting,” Loxy said. “You remember prenatal life?”

“Yes. It was a long darkness. I thought I was in a sleeping bag, having a fevered dream. I thought you

kept touching me, reassuring me, but in hindsight, I guess that was Tama,” Jon said. “How did you get

these?”

“Our remote viewers found you, we’ve been gathering intel,” Loxy said. “Tell us what you know of the

world. Do you have a map?”

“Limited,” Jon said. “My memory or imagination is getting in the way. Every time I try to perceive the

whole world, I get flashbacks to the Death Star.”

Loxy seemed amused. “That’s interesting.”

“It’s annoying. I can’t get around that image,” Jon said.

She put an image of the Death Star on the dome. “Okay. Is their world artificial?” Loxy asked.

“No,” Jon said. His first answer was almost assuredly the correct one, but then he had second

thoughts. “It’s not a space station. It feels terraformed.”

Loxy nodded. “That’s the sense we get, too. They don’t speak English.”

“They don’t. They don’t speak anything common, but many of the names, they sound like Earth

names,” Jon said.

“They’re a colony world?” Loxy asked.

“That would explain the abundance of rabbits,” Jon said.

“So they have familiar animals?”

“I have not seen anything alien, if that’s what you mean. There are stories of dragons and bears that

walk upright,” Jon said. He sighed. “The thing that bothers me the most about the world is the lack of

stars.” He turned to her. “Be straight with me, Loxy. Where am I?”

There was some evidence that Loxy was having an inner conversation with someone else, if her eyes

going up and to the right meant anything. It was not uncommon when in High Conference to see

someone ‘check out’ and then return. In this virtual space, they were avatars. When she focused, she

had made a decision to respond. She didn’t look concern. It wasn’t like she was about to reveal, ‘you

have cancer and six weeks to live.’ She was serious, however. Professional. Not her usual good humor,

ready to crack a joke or make an obscure reference.

“It’s called a Soul Trap,” Loxy said. “Essentially, it’s a pocket universe connected to ours by the

equivalent of an umbilical cord. A wormhole.” She illustrated on the dome. “The black hole on this side

is approximately 12 kilometers in diameter. The one on your side appears to be three kilometers in

diameter. Souls go in, exploring. They don’t usually come out.”

“Like a wasp trap? Souls are too stupid to go the narrow and out the way they came?” Jon asked.

“It’s not about being stupid,” Loxy said. “But, you’re analogy is appropriate. We have found two artifacts

inside the bubble. A G-type star, relatively young, and a single planet. It wasn’t hard to find them, as

they’re only other significant artifacts other than the black hole. The size of the pocket, the stability of

the pocket and the star’s orbit around the black hole, and the stability of your planet’s orbit, suggests

this space was artificially created.”

“For what purposes?” Jon asked.

“We don’t know,” Loxy said. “There is only one species in the galaxy with the technology capable of

making such a space. Reasons for creating a space is for security. They establish pocket colonies to

ensure their species survival. They do it for experimentation. If something goes wrong, they can cut the

cord and set the pocket adrift. Pocket universes can come into existence naturally, but this feels

contrived. Not sinister. None of us have detected malice.”

“How did I get here?” Jon asked.

“We encountered an entity. You were kidnapped,” Loxy said.

“Go on,” Jon said.

“It captured you and accelerated into the black hole, entering above relativistic speeds. Reversal of

age, or entropy, is either due to traveling faster than relativist speeds, or because of the entity’s biology

or tech, or a combination. Maybe it was trying to reverse engineer humans. Maybe it just needed you to

be a child. For whatever reasons, it would appear that it caused you to age backwards, and at the

appropriate age, it implanted you into a host, probably someone who was already pregnant,” Loxy said.

She touched the picture. “Lanore?”

“Why?” Jon asked.

“Million dollar question,” Loxy said. She looked up, nodded, and returned her eyes. “We’re going to lose

signal soon.”

“No! Why?”

“I don’t know. We’re noticing a decay in coherence,” Loxy said.

“What does that even mean? Plot contrivance feel here,” Jon said.

“Yeah. Do you have any orders?”

“I take it you can’t take My Enterprise through the black hole,” Jon said.

“We cannot,” Loxy said.

“Can you beam me out of here?” Jon asked.

“No,” Loxy said. “It might be possible for you to build a portal and we link portals.”

“Not likely, not with their tech, in my life time,” Jon said.

“You could find that alien that kidnapped you,” Loxy said. “It clearly has tech.”

“Lord help it when I find it,” Jon said. “Where’s my uniform?”

“It’s here,” Loxy said.

“What happened to ‘one uniform for life?’ Why didn’t it come with me?”

“The alien didn’t take it. It was only interested in you, not the tech,” Loxy said.

“Is she okay?”

“Your suit AI’s interface?” Loxy asked. “Yes. She awaits your return.”

“Am I recoverable?” Jon asked.

“Technically plausible,” Loxy said.

“That species you referred to, the one that makes these traps, they can’t…”

“They won’t,” Loxy said. “A moral boundary issue.”

“They have none?”

Loxy was amused. “They are super ethical, and they will not violate the sanctity of this space. This isn’t

just tech driven, it’s soul driven,” Loxy said. “The space you’re in, it’s a consensus reality.”

“I didn’t consent,” Jon said.

“Maybe not consciously,” Loxy said.

“Why would I unconsciously agree to this?” Jon asked.

“I don’t know. Why would I consciously agree to be your tulpa?” Loxy asked.

“It’s not the same,” Jon said. “Is it?”

“Maybe. One of the biggest complaints of alien abductions on earth is the lack of control people feel,

that it happens against their will, but the encounters are agreed upon, subconsciously for sure, maybe

even agreed upon prior to birth,” Loxy said. “A telepathic creature will almost always communicate with

your core you, your unconscious mind before it reaches the surface you, the you that you perceive as

you. Maybe it doesn’t identify with the primary personality interface. You are not who you think you are.

Even on a good day.”

“Loxy. Do I have time to sort that better with you and Jung together?” Jon asked.

“No,” Loxy said.

He sighed. “I don’t know what to do here.”

“Grow up?” Loxy offered.

“Ha ha,” Jon said.

“At least you didn’t say something cliché like, forget about me, go on with your lives,” Loxy said.

“Oh, fuck that. I expect you to recover me,” Jon said. “If I die, you go back in time and you recover me,

and you leave a dead meat doppelganger in my place.”

“Yes, Sir,” Loxy said. “Oh, I need to tell you this before you go. It’s going to be weird for you.”

“Oh? Weirder than being born again?” Jon asked.

“Every time we remote view you, we find a different age of you,” Loxy said. “Every time we successfully

communicate with you, you’re at a different age. You appear not to be remembering encounters, which

is not inconsistent with soul to soul encounters, especially if you’re dreaming. There is a good chance,

you will experience temporal anomalies.”

“Oh, you’re going to have to try and explain that,” Jon insisted.

“Schrodinger’s Box,” Loxy said. “Meme it.”

Jon sorted it, scowled. “I better not be the fucking cat in this meme.” Loxy gave him an amused, sorry

look. “Oh fuck me. Am I alive or dead?”

“Every time we peek into the trap, we get a different you,” Loxy said.

“Even dead?”

“Dead isn’t what people think it is,” Loxy said.

“I am dead?”

“You’re both. We’re all both. We’re here and not here all the time,” Loxy said.

“This feels like déjà vu,” Jon said.

“Probably because we keep having this discussion. We will likely continue with it until you got it,” Loxy

said.

“I got it already…”

Jon disappeared.

“I know you do,” Loxy said. “I love you.”