A Crowded Place

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say... Ominous words to start the episode with, I know, but they're words which are often pondered upon by many here in The Line, as well as by many others, I'm sure, listening in from other colonies.

You abruptly steal a hand back from your bicycle and sway it elegantly past the golden locks that are draped across your ear while pedalling onwards, causing the podcast's volume to increase. Cleary, this episode has piqued your interest.

Welcome back to another episode of Spaced Out, a podcast where we talk everything space, from theoretical ideologies of the universe, to well researched and proven astrophysical data. I'm your host, Dr Jimmy Chan and today I'm joined by Dr Lee Beckham, an aerospace engineer, researcher and astronaut. His research has paved the way to many fundamental...

The man's crisp voice trails off as I tune out of the one-way conversation. It's a skill I've spent quite some time perfecting. I've had to, lest I'd have gone mad months ago. I was never one for Dr Chan's fluffed-out drivel. Yet you seem to have developed an obsession with his show of late. I've come to the conclusion that it's because the paradoxical details are a distraction from your bleak reality. From me.

You steer to the edge of the perfectly defined path as a flurry of wheels and distorted voices fly past. It's crowded in the park today, but no more than usual. One would be lucky to find a public space outside the three foot vicinity of another human these days. I suppose overpopulation is inevitable when the rest of the planet is practically uninhabitable. As an immigrant of The Line, you know this first hand. Inside the city's barriers though, it's another story entirely.

As my mind wanders, I find myself tuning back in to the podcast, and Dr Chan's silky, overly enthusiastic voice.

So, to set the scene. Just over three hundred years after man first ventured past the safety of Earth's atmosphere, we're still yet to find anything living out there. Of course, that hasn't stopped us from speculating, and if you tuned in to our last episode on extra-terrestrial life forms, you'll already be well aware of that. But in today's episode, we're talking about the physics of sound, and how it works, or rather, doesn't work, in the vacuum of space.

You continue gliding along, dodging wary pedestrians until you reach the park's edge which borders the suburbs. Central Tower is just a few feet to your left. It looms over the path, as if to look down at the masses of people below like squashable insects. It's the only non-conjoined building that spans the entire height of the city's border. Dense, green foliage spews from every surface, as it does from most structures in The Line. Water streams from its peak, which is scarcely visible from here, nourishing the organic exterior as it crashes down to the ponds below beside the path. Far above the peak of the tower, a pale blue sky can be seen through the transparent ceiling of the The Line. It's breath-taking. Although, for you, it seems to be just another structure to pass on your daily commute.

One never has to walk more than a few hundred metres to access essentials here. Yet, for some reason, you always insist on riding your bicycle to work. Perhaps you enjoy the thrill, and the feeling of wind through your long sandy hair. An essence of freedom that, like most humans these days, you've become somewhat starved of. Most likely though, I think it's because the bike has sentimental value. It's a reminder of your mother; one of many who's lives were lost to the chaos outside the city's safeguard, or so I've gathered.

You cycle onwards, gliding through the crowds as the scenery turns from placid parklands to concrete-based suburbia. Yet, the transition is quite subtle, for even the large towers, which are comprised of stacked pod-rooms, are draped with lush foliage and greenery.

All the while, you're still listening intently to the podcast. I think the other Dr is speaking now, Dr Beckham. His voice is more weathered, and has a fragile tone about it as though the poor man could drop dead at any moment.

I suppose space shuttles aren't so different from the various colonies we have here on Earth. Take The Line for example - sustainable energy production, fresh water, and exquisitely crafted architecture formulate the heart of our enclosed and entirely self-sufficient city. Shuttles need to be the same in order to preserve life in the harsh environment of space. Of course, space shuttles will never be one hundred and something miles in length like The Line, but you get the gist.

I wonder if you're even listening, or if instead you're using the podcast for the sole purpose of obscuring my very existence, if only for the short duration of your commute. I can hardly blame you. Having a foreigner inhabit the depths of your mind each and every day is beyond invasive. Some call us parasites. I prefer to see it as more of a symbiosis, or a transactional relationship; you're granted access to the safeguard this city provides, rescued from the desolate plains which garnish the planet's surface, and I, for a mere forty-eight hours each week, have the freedom to experience a tangible life. A real life. A human life.

Only eight hours remain until my Wake Time begins. Until then, I wait patiently backstage, observing life though your lens. Unfortunately, whilst our thoughts are distinctly separate and isolated from one another, I'm still cursed with sharing your sensations during my Sleep Time, and your hearing is no exception. Dr Beckham is still waffling, but he's moved on to the main subject now.

I despise such a belief because it teases at the notion that, if a tree falls in a forest, and no one else is around to hear it, then that tree doesn't make a sound... Which is ridiculous, of course. But then you also have to consider the fact that, without an atmosphere, the vibrations we call sound have no means of transport. So, if those tiny little vibrations don't exist in space, one could ask themselves: is it that nobody can hear a scream in space, or would a scream never be able to exist there in the first place?

Nonsense. Philosophical ramblings serve no concrete value. Yet, here you are, listening to these two humans ramble aimlessly. I've surrendered to the idea that such interests are simply a symptom of human nature.

Things work so differently in the organic world of humanity, especially when compared to my previous existence in the Cloud. Aside from philosophy, I've had to adapt to the lack of physical room in the months since our Fusion. Such a thing didn't even exist in my previous form. It's peculiar how having little of something almost feels worse than having none at all. In the Cloud, I was part of a whole; a hive mind, but here, I'm a distinct entity. I'm different. I'm unique. But with individuality comes conflict. There are so many different opinions and voices to interact with each day. It's exhausting. I wonder if I'm the only one, or if the other Fused Artificials feel this way too.

The latter, I'm sure. Yet, another layer of complexity is added once more when one considers that sound is a perception of the brain. Vibrations in the atmosphere cause our ears to vibrate too, and our brains translate those vibrations into the perception of sound. So, if you take this into consideration, if one were to, somehow, cause our ears to vibrate at the right frequency whilst in the vacuum of space, you could bypass the absence of atmosphere, and perhaps a scream could be heard... Of course, this is all fundamentally flawed by the fact that, in the vacuum of space, mortality would soon ensue and one wouldn't be able to hear much of anything anyway.

You free-wheel up to the elevator outside your building, wave a hand over the sensor on the wall, and dismount. Gracefully, might I add. Your finesse always did amaze me. For some reason, during my Wake Time, I've always been rather clumsy with our body. Perhaps it's a symptom of my artificial nature. We were never meant to experience life through humans after all. Yet, after a few hundred years of evolution, the desolation of Earth's natural ecosystems, and a trade off between refuge-seeking humans and Artificials such as myself, here we are. Fused.

The elevator chimes and a swarm of talkative bodies spills out as the doors open. One of them comes to a stop in front of you just outside the doors. It's Todd, unfortunately. He's dressed in his formal attire, with his dark hair slicked back, and skin freshly moisturised. He's talking but we can't hear anything over Dr Beckham's loud, nonsensical rambling.

... And I think one of the biggest challenges of modern aerospace engineering will be overcomi-

You wave a hand past your ear again, this time with a sharp cutting motion, and Dr Beckham's sentence comes to a stark halt.

"Sorry, I missed that," you say shyly as you point to your ear. "Podcast."

Todd rolls his eyes, "Is it the same one as last time? Spaced Out? I gave it a listen. A bit mundane, don't you think?"

Shared distain for the podcast is perhaps the only thing that he and I shall ever agree upon. Todd isn’t the most likeable of humans, but somehow he always manages to get what he wants from you. He knows, I'm sure, that your obedience is only a few condescending comments away at any point in time. I don't like him. He's Unfused, as all natives of The Line are, but his entire demeanour reeks of malice and privilege.

I wonder if you envy him. You grew up on the outside, and had to pay your way in with Fusion, but he was born here rent free. Yet, despite this, you don't seem jealous. It's strange. Perhaps it's just one of those human things I'll never comprehend, like philosophy.

You shrug in response. He rolls his eyes again.

"Well, each to their own, I guess... Anyway, you coming to Kally and Helena's thing tomorrow?"

"Can't. My Sleep Time starts soon."

"Ugh, Asix is such a drag. Don't you find being Fused with them to be, you know, inconvenient?" his gaze fixes on your eyes as he finishes. It's as though he's staring through them directly at me. The disrespect is clear, but I'll have to wait until tomorrow to return the favour.

You break eye contact and glance longingly towards the elevator. I can tell a part of you wants to just end the conversation here and step through those doors, but I know you won't. Todd isn't finished with the conversation yet. He wants to torment us for a bit first, so you obey.

"Well, not as inconvenient as starving to death or being torn to pieces by mutated badgers on the outside."

Todd nods in agreement, "That's true."

It's awkwardly silent for a moment as the conversation ends. He leans in for a kiss, planting one on your cheek with force, and placing a hand on your hip over your sap-stained overalls. You pull your lips into a smile as he leans back. It's ingenuine, I can tell. The sensation is very different to a natural smile. It's heavier.

"Heading out?" you ask.

"Uh, yeah, I thought I'd duck down to the vineyard. Florence is teaching a winery class at four. Could be fun," Todd says with a sly shrug. "I'd invite you, but I know you're not a wine fan."

That's a lie. You are, but he's well aware that wine tends to make you act with more confidence, and such a threat to his ego could never be tolerated. I think you've even started to believe them yourself. With every malicious word that seeps from his lips, you're moulded even further into what he wants.

"Oh, that's ok. I'm a bit tired anyway - big day at the orchard."

"Of course," Todd says in agreement. He steps out of the entryway and gestures for you to pass. You obey, wheeling your bicycle into the now empty elevator. "Guess I'll talk to you in a few days then."

You nod.

"Be seeing you soon, Asix," Todd mutters smugly.

Not if I can help it, I think to myself. I'm sure something similar is going through your mind too.

"Oh, and don't damage my goods on your Wake Time," he adds with a slimy wink while looking you up and down "I know exactly what condition Yana's body is in."

You don't respond, but I can feel the nausea creeping in. The doors close and you're finally alone. Well, as alone as the Fused can ever be.

***

Thanks for tuning in folks. Don't miss our upcoming episode next week where we'll announce an exciting update on the development of the Mars colony. I'm your host, Dr Jimmy Chan, and this is Spaced Out.

As the final sentence comes to its long-awaited conclusion, Dr Chan's voice is replaced by tacky sci-fi music that clearly hasn't been relevant in at least a couple of centuries. You quickly bite the last piece of food from your fork before dropping it onto the plate and signalling your ear to switch off the music.

Thank you.

You stand, collect the empty plate and cutlery from the table, and stack them into the wall-mounted washer. Waste is unheard of here. Food, water, power and even space itself have become such precious things. Everything in your pod room is stacked and organised to optimise space and efficiency, as little of it as there is. One wall is devoted to kitchen and food-related needs. A second is home to toiletries, grooming equipment and a tightly enclosed shower-toilet. The third is devoted to entertainment and comfort, although a quarter of that wall is taken up by the window; a worthy sacrifice of space for the natural light and scenic view of the parkland it provides from the fifty-seventh floor. The fourth, which houses the entryway, is devoted to storage. Every inch of that wall is made of cupboards and shelves. Finally, in the centre of the room, is a single booth-enclosed dining table that somewhat separates the four walls of the room, above which, sits your bed. The entire pod can't be much more than one hundred square feet. Cosy would be a generous description.

A gentle alarm sounds in your ear.

Five hours remain until your Sleep Time begins. Please prepare for rest to ensure adequate rejuvenation of your body before the switch.

***

Sleep is a strange experience for the Fused. I can't tell what you're thinking so I can never be sure if you're awake or not. I am, but given that you haven't moved in a few minutes, and your breathing has slowed, I'm guessing you're not. I think the closest sensation one could define this as is 'sleep paralysis'; awake, but unable to move.

I'm not afraid though. This happens quite frequently. It's simply part of living a Fused life. Even if I were to be afraid, I have no control of our body, so I wouldn't even be able to react. I suppose, much like in the vacuum of space, nobody can hear you scream outside of Wake Time. My programming would never allow it. The rules state I must merely observe during Sleep Time, and a scream - my scream - would break those rules. I'm sure it's the same for you as well, or at least it seems to be. I've never been interrupted during Wake Time. Even the biological can be governed by the rules of technology.

Your eyes are closed so there's no visual stimuli to distract myself with. The room is deathly silent, yet my mind continues to wander. It's almost ironic to think that two beings can inhabit a mind that was built for one, in a room that is scarcely large enough to move about within, in a city that's overpopulated. Space, whether it be physical or mental, is precious. A lack of physical space was inevitable, and I'm certain past generations of humans saw that coming, but who would have thought one's mind could also become such a crowded place?