Terrastella

Chapter I

Georgina

amygdalae: n. the area of the brain responsible for experiencing emotion.

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. They say a lot of things, however, and one thing I know for certain is this:

their frantic cries still echo inside of my eardrums, the sound of their terror still haunts my dreams, and I’ll never forget the night their souls were ripped from their bodies; swallowed into the bottomless void of the sky.

“Wow” I hear Eli say suddenly - his deep, raspy voice making me jump - “that was actually quite … poetic”.

Embarrassed, I reach up to the chip that is nestled behind my left ear. Shit, I think to myself, I left the damn thought-transmitter on…again.

Eli laughs. “You don’t need to worry about me; I’m not going to reveal your dark thoughts to anyone.” He shoots me one of those killer smiles. “You might wanna shut that thing off though - the clones could be listening right now.”

My heart stops. “Since when are the clones tapping into our chips?”

But Eli doesn’t answer me. Instead, I feel him suddenly put his hand on my back. With one firm, brisk force, he pushes me down to the ground - pulling the both of us behind the shield of a large rock.

“Dude, are you serious?!” I exclaim angrily. My side aches from being slammed into the hard, rocky ground.

Eli puts his hand over my mouth; silencing me.

It’s then that I see the drone flew by. Its red and white lights flash rapidly with curiosity - surveying the scenery; creating gleaming pinholes in the thick, hazy air that surrounds us.

Eli looks at me and holds a finger up to his mouth. Nervously, I watch as the drone’s flashing lights dance eerily around us, flickering vigorously in all directions.

“Potential intruder…intruder…intruder…potential intruder detected in area sub-X-26A”, a robotic, muffled voice announces from a choppy radio bandwidth.

“Message copied” the drone behind us answers back. Its voice is equally stoic, and it makes tiny mechanical noises as it begins to pull its spider-like legs in toward its core. “Unit number 0-861 in route for assistance”.

We both watch as it swiftly flies away into the mist, and we pull ourselves back to our feet.

All clear. For now.

Cautiously, we continue our trek through the dry, barren terrain; our hefty sand boots kicking up clouds of dust that swirl in whirlpools behind our backs.

“So” says Eli - as if nothing had just happened - “why don’t you tell me more of your poetry?” His voice echoes into the soupy acoustics of the dimly-lit atmosphere.

I feel my lips curve into an awkward smile. “It’s not meant to be poetic” I say to him, “it’s meant to be more of…a riddle.” 

“You don’t say? Well, I’d like to hear more of it”.

I look at him. “Not a chance.”

I press my finger down on the thin ridge of the tiny chip that sits just beneath my skin, and hold it there until I hear a high-pitched “beep”. All transmission waves enabling Eli - and the clones - to hear my thoughts are now deactivated.

crack…crack…crack…

Broken gravel and bedrock crumble beneath our feet as we tread the drought-ridden, desolate Terratempestas, I think to myself.

When all this is over, I’m going to write a book about it all. I concentrate on my surroundings, and I continue forming the descriptive narrative in my head:

The planet, which was once harvested for its nutrient-rich rain and unrivaled wind power, is now a graveyard of trees with their trunks bent in obscure, demonic angles. Ghoulish shadows are cast in all directions, and what was once a lush, majestic world is now a burial ground; an eery reminder of the diverse lifeforms that once thrived here.

I glance up in the direction of the large portal that stretches out across the majority of the grey and electric-orange sky. I often find myself staring at it for hours, thinking about the mystery.

crack…crack…crack…

I can’t take it anymore. I turn back to Elli:

“Do you even remember that night?” I ask him.

“Of course I do” he says, “I just try not to think about it.”

“But don’t you wonder who they were?” I ask, “don’t you wonder who we heard screaming that night?”

“Not really” he says, “my guess is it wasn’t anyone at all. It was probably all just an illusion set up by the clones.”

I frown, and we continue to walk together in silence. I kick up more dust from the ground, and continue my thoughts:

The year is 3014, and science has long since bred most to be devoid of all fear. “Most” refers to the clones - the ones who are walking, physical replicas of us - the humans - and who carry all of our DNA. These beings, who’s amygdalae were modified in petri dishes and who are mirror images of our own faces, operate with virtually zero fear.

The anonymous “they” have always said that the purpose of simulating all of our physical attributes except for our brains was to create courageous explorers that could be sent into the void - the large portal that now swallows more than 50 percent of the skyline.

It is said that the clones and the humans are the only remaining species in all of the macrocosm. All other intelligent lifeforms have long since perished - completely demolished by fear in the mouth of the portal. Far too many have extinguished themselves in search of the second gateway to one, universally-sought after place:

the highly mystified, resource-rich star-planet, Terrastella.

“Terrastella” I mutter to myself.

Eli turns to me. “What?”

I shake my head. “Terrastella…do you think it even really exists?”

“It fucking better. I didn’t come all this way to chase clones down for nothing.” He grabs the switchblade strapped to his right leg and throws it - like a dart - into bark of a tree stump.

Anger, I think to myself as I watch him, so many of us are feel angry right now…

and betrayed.

The clones had always promised us they were our brothers and sisters. They assured us that in return for our DNA, they would stand by our sides and discover Terrastella’s second hidden doorway in the name of us all. For us all.

And we believed them.

We, the humans - a small group consisting of myself, Eli, and 9 others - believed them, that is, because we can believe….

and because we can feel.

We are the only beings capable of experiencing emotion, I think to myself - getting back to my narrative.

We are the only beings capable of experiencing fear.

Which brings me back to my riddle:

If only 11 living beings are able to experience fear, who did we hear screaming frantically in the vacuum of space that night…and how was it even possible we heard them?

It is a question that has haunted me ever since that day.

Jillian

senescence: n. the process of deterioration with age.

turritopsis dohrnii: n. an immortal jellyfish.

“Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space” I insist with stone-cold confidence, “because sound must have a medium - such as air or water - by which to travel through vibrating atoms and molecules.”

I make sure my face remains blank, detached, emotionless.

There is a murmur that arises from the crowd of children standing before me. Then there is silence. Ruffles of movement begin to cascade in waves from the balconies lining the auditorium walls, and finally - after what seems like a fucking eternity - there is a roar of applause.

Uncanny applause.

I bow my head to hide my relief. These assholes, I think to myself, be gone already.

Whoops: I swear that they hear me.

They begin to slowly shuffle out of the large, dome-shaped arena. I nearly laugh to myself, however, because I know there’s no way it’s possible they heard what I’m thinking: I don’t have a state of the art chip like the humans do. And neither do they.

“Wonderful presentation” a voice from behind me says as I exit the door, “you’re truly an exceptional teacher”.

I almost jump. Almost - that is - but I catch myself. I turn around to see Dr. Cyrusim leaning against the wall. He stands there, looking at a me with robotic eyes; holding a smoking cigarette to his mouth.“Well if I didn’t know any better” he says, throwing the glowing butt to the ground, “I’d say you look surprised to see me”.

Keep your cool, Jill, I think to myself; he’s testing you.

“Hello, Dr. Cyrusim" I say. I keep my voice calm. Devoid. Un-humane. “Thank you for the compliment. I was up all night preparing for it.”

“There’s something I need your help with” he says. “Tell me, would you be interested in rendering your service once again for more memory?” His icy-blue eyes glimmer, and I feel myself begin to be baited like a fish into the bribe. “I can have it downloaded to your chip immediately."

This fucker, I think to myself. I bring my hand up to graze the half-completed chip submerged behind the back of my right ear. It is the newest quid pro quo between the two of us: lending my skill in hacking code from the humans’ chips for additional memory applied to my own.

“Haven’t I collected enough human data already” I ask him. My voice hardly raises at the end of the question. It’s more like a statement.

Dr. Cyrusim smiles a fake, cryptic smile: like that of a bad actor expressing greed. Except he can’t possibly be experiencing greed right now: he has no desires. He has no feelings.

“You have indeed provided us with some valuable information” he says, “unfortunately, however, we’ve received word there’s been movement along the Northeast region of Terratempestas. We’re not certain what they’re searching for, but we have reason to believe that - ”

“that they may have found a clue as to what we’re working on” I say, cutting him off.

Dr. Cyrusim nods. “Precisely”.

“I see.”

I hang my head to think for moment. I recall the long nights I’ve recently spent in the office, listening to the human thoughts transmitted through complex algorithms and data caches. The offer for more memory is enticing - I’ve nearly enough to remember 10 years back into the past at this point. But do I really want to put myself through all that again?

The clones have been working to duplicate the humans’ chips for some time now. We’re nearly 60 percent finished with the operation, yet there’s still one single, highly crucial component we’ve yet to acquire:

the code for the turritopsis dohrnii: the immortal jellyfish.

Shortly before the Earth was destroyed, the humans developed their chips. Within these chips they downloaded - among many things - the genetic material for all the blue and green planet’s lifeforms. Their hope was that they could - almost as if playing God - recreate these creatures in a Noah’s Ark fashion once the doorway to Terrastella was finally found; a way to rebirth their home in a new world.

Unbeknownst to the humans, however, they actually carry the key to Terrastella themselves: the code to the turritopsis dohrnii, which gives humans the ability to defy senescence; essentially becoming immortal.

Of course, the humans have not only failed to realize they already hold the magic wand to Terrastella, but they also have no idea we’ve been working to duplicate their chips. They have not the slightest idea we intend to steal the jellyfish code from right beneath their fingertips, which would allow us to continuously revert back to unharmed versions of ourselves while traveling through the portal….

of claiming Terrastella for ourselves.

I look at Dr. Cyrusim. I’m not sure how long I’ve been thinking for, but he’s waiting for me, patiently. Clones have no sense of urgency, which allows for a dangerously calculative nature.

“I’m in” I finally say, “under one condition: I want to be able to remember who was screaming that night.”

Georgina

monachopsis: n. the vague yet persistent feeling of being out of place.

“Can I see the 28-fifty?” Eli says to me suddenly.

I snap out of my thoughts. “Sure”. I reach into my backpack and pull out the infrared 28.5, which is fully compressed and the size of a pencil. I hand it to him.

He pulls open its thin, mosquito-like legs, then sets it on the ground and points it into the sky. The portal has vanished from our view, but it reappears every eight minutes, exactly. Shortly after, it releases a super-charged spotlight of ionized particles down to the ground.

It is this spotlight that's said to be the first doorway through the portal and into Terrastella. It is also the doorway that no one has ever surpassed; the same one from where we both heard the screams.

Regardless, we wait.

“Do you think we’ll be able to see what they're doing?” I ask him.

“It’s hard to say.”

"Should I jump into the light tonight?" I ask. It's a stupid joke, but the urge has been proding me, and I feel the desire to test the waters.

Eli doesn't seem amused. "Don't be dumb" he says, "sheer terror alone will kill you in an instant...you know that, George. Plus, the air will be pulled from your lungs and your bodily fluids will boil within minutes. No one can survive that, not even the clones."

"Then why are they even trying to get through the portal?" I ask. "No one can survive the first doorway. Why are any of us even trying?"

"Remember, they're fearless" he says. "They're fearless and therefore they'll continue to try, even if they perish in the process."

I look around us. We’ve travelled five days for this one moment, and we’ve risked our lives. I reach up and release my long hair from my ponytail. Dark, wavy strands brush my face in the feeble, ghost of a breeze.

I’ve never been a particularly courageous person. I’m practically afraid of my own shadow, to be honest. When Eli volunteered for this mission, however, I knew that I needed to come. I needed answers.

We’ve suspected for some time now that the clones have turned against us, and the droids we’ve encountered along the way are confirmation we are indeed trespassing: it’s apparent we’re not supposed to be here.

While we're not sure why, we suspect the clones have been searching for the second doorway behind our backs.

As we wait for the portal to re-open, there is nothing but wide open space and thick, spongy silence. It is hard to explain the quiet of a desolate world. It waits to absorb your voice like a vulture a dying animal. The entire panorama has become one huge corpse flower, a coral-colored landscape that lures us in: ready to swallow its prey.

“There!” Eli exclaims suddenly. He points up and I see it: a small patch of sky begins to dissolve into grainy pixels; a spiderweb of black nothing slowly erasing a vast, starry background.

It’s the portal: it’s re-opening, and the ionized beam of light - the first doorway - will soon appear.

Eli peers through the mini telescope - modeled after the James Webb but 350 times more powerful - and I wait for him to tell me something exquisitely groundbreaking.

I watch Eli’s expression as he gazes into the lens. My heart begins to pound with anxiety. I’m about to ask him what he sees, when suddenly:

footsteps.

We both turn to our left, and the ground begins to rumble violently from beneath us.

thud…thud…thud…

“It’s the bots!” I exclaim, and it’s the first time I’ve seen fear in his eyes.

We both look around frantically: there is no where to hide. We are surrounded by nothing, and we’re in the direct pathway of the humungous, missal-throwing simulators:

the Alpha-Sims, or so they call them.

In one swift, instinctive and un-calculated motion, I yank Eli’s revolver 9000 from his waist belt, and I aim at the horizon.

Somehow, I put all my fear aside, and somehow, I decide it is I, this time…

who will be the brave one in this world where we do not belong.

Jillian

avenoir: n. the desire that memory could flow backward.

I spot them.

I ran back to my office as soon as Dr. Cyrusim promised me I’d be able to remember who screamed. I've been craving the answer to that question for a long time now.

They’re smart and they disabled their chip signals - those fuckers. They’ve realized we’re tracking them.

Despite this, I finally zero in on them after about 25 minutes of scanning the airways for fragmented footsteps of their signature data caches.

They appear as tiny pin dots through the eyes of the Alpha-Sims, but they’re there. I can immediately tell they're peering into the portal - trying to see what we're up to. Damnit.

Rage begins to burst through my veins. We’re so close to finding the seccond doorway, I think to myself, and I’m not gonna let these assholes screw it all up by realizing we're working against them.

I begin to talk to them through the monitor, even though they can't hear me. “Once I put an end to you” I say, “I’m going back for the 9 others of you as well”.

I lock the missals of the Alpha-Sims in place. I know they hear me coming: that's for certain. They can’t see me just yet, however. Just a few more miles. I can’t wait to see the fear in their eyes.

I feel elated. I just might deliver to Dr. Cyrusim more than he’s expecting of me.

If I can catch these fuckers, I think, I’ll be able to finish downloading the remainder of their database all in one shot. I'll be the one to finally obtain the code to the turritopsis dohrnii, which will allow clone-kind to survive the treacherous conditions of the first doorway and finally... hopefully... surpass into the second.

Oh, how I wish I could already know what happens.

I grin to myself as I wait. Not a fake grin, that is…

but a real one.

Georgina

l’appel du vide: n. “the call of the void”.

“Get behind me!” I yell to Eli.

He’s frozen and can barely move. I can tell that the Alpha-Sims have locked in on his bandwidth. Fuck. I reach over and press down on his chip. It’s on. Mother-fuckers! They’ve figured out how to hack in and engage them without our knowledge. I flip it back off.

Why do we keep these things in?! I wonder.

“Because we’ll lose all of Earth’s data the moment they’re un-synced from our nervous systems” I hear Eli say.

I look at him. He’s back with me - thank God. I realize they've turned on my thought-transmitter, however. I make sure to switch mine off as well.

“Give me that thing” Eli says, pointing at the gun.

“No way” I say, “they’ve hot-wired your chip. “I’ve got this.”

The footsteps get closer. Vibrations from their weight seep up from the ground and into our chest cavities. Crimson dust shakes up from the cracked terrain, and begins to make our eyes water. We choke from the particle-ridden air.

I aim the barrel back toward the skyline. Eli and I both become silent. We wait…

and wait….

and wait…

and then suddenly: there they are.

Their monstrous bodies begin to emerge from the edge of the fallen-Earth-like topography, and I’m not sure what comes over me:

I begin to run toward them. Fast.

They are about to walk through the exact loction where the light from the portal will momentarily appear...

and I make up my mind: I decide I want to try to surpass the first doorway.

Jillian

chrysalism: n. the serenity one feels when indoors during a storm.

One of them is racing toward me. It’s a female. I try to zoom in on her face, but she’s still too far away. I try to hijack her chip signals, but she’s disengaged the transmitter.

Damnit. That’s ok - I have another way; I’ll just have to wait till she gets closer.

If I’m being honest, I’m relishing the show. I sit back with my feet up on my desk, holding the controls of the Alpha-Sim like a video game. I enjoy being in power. I close my eyes for a brief second and try to imagine the array of emotions she must be feeling as she runs toward me; as she prepares to go up against the thousand-foot tall mechanical beast that obeys the slightest switch of my finger.

I imagine her feelings, that is, because I can: I have them myself.

I’ve known I was different from the clones ever since I was little. I learned to mimic their expressionless faces and live their emotionless lives right beside them; as if I was one of them.

I’m not sure what they’d do to me if they ever found out I believe that I’m actually…

human.

Georgina

onism: n. the awareness of how little of the world one will experience.

Has a human ever seen their own clone? I ask myself as I’m running. It’s more of a poetic inquiry for my book instead of a question. I’m back at my narrative again: writing the beginning of a new chapter in my head as I’m racing straight into my death trap.

I know for a fact none of the remaining 11 have: neither Eli, Cassian, Lexa, Annora, Emric, Ren, Junis, Zeff, Reino, Isla, or myself.

I can’t speak for all humans before us, though. While there is no record of a human ever coming face to face with their own clone, that doesn’t mean it’s never happened. Technically, it's entirely possible.

My breathing begins to intensify. Dead trees and charred brush fly by me on both sides as I dart toward my assailers like a lunatic. I hear the shocked screams of Eli behind me - begging me to come back - getting farther and farther away.

I ignore him. Something has come over me: a strange sort of euphoria. I am a moth being pulled to the flame.

I've always been afraid of dying. Ever since I can remember. This looks like it'll be the end for me today, however. Somehow, though, I am oddly ok with that - despite having so many questions that are certain to now go unanswered.

I aim my bouncing arms at the approaching metallic monsters, and I tell myself I’ll jump into the light and fire at countdown.

I begin to count backward:

3….

Jillian

ambedo: n. a trance in which one becomes absorbed in vivid sensory details.

I watch her on the big screen as she inches closer.

Georgina, I think, her name is Georgina. I’m beginning to pick up the decaying signals that her chip sent out not too long ago while it was fully activated. My brain begins to tingle. An orgasmic sensation. All the little pieces of who she is begin to appear in the air, lending themselves to my growing intellect.

It won’t be much longer before I am able to see the whole picture.

Just a little bit closer, Georgina, I think.

I can hardly contain myself: I can almost taste the triumph. I am overcome with excitement, suspense, and with countless expectations for my future:

I'm about to make the single biggest contribution to clone culture and society...

and I've done it all as a human.

I take a deep breath of the air. It smells of victory. I anticipate the rush of dopamine flowing through my veins.

I run my hands through my dark, wavy hair...

and I prepare for the kill.

Georgina

fitzcarraldo: n. an image that inexplicably becomes wedged deep in your mind.

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, I think to myself again.

But who was screaming that night? Nobody feels fear except for the human-11. Nobody feels fear except for us.

Even as I inch toward my own demise, I remain haunted - perplexed - by this mystery. It is a memory I cannot shake from my mind.

I begin to run faster. Faster. I'm still aiming my gun. I feel myself being pulled in by the magnetic force of the Alpha-Sims; by the enigma of a mythical star-planet that is our very last chance of having a home.

There's no turning back now. The faces of the robots - my assassins - become clearer.

2...

Jillian

aporia: n. the feeling of emptiness one feels when something that was once believed to be true turns out to be false.

It can't be.

I finally am able to zoom in on her face, and I may as well be staring into a mirror.

She is the spitting image of...

me.

WAIT…

Georgina

1...

I am oddly devoid of all fear as I jump in the light and fire my gun at the Alphas.

I couldn’t scream, even if I wanted to.

As I watch my body continuously revert back to unharmed versions of itself through the void,

I am not even sure if I’m human.

***

(Stay tuned for Chapter 2) :)

All definitions for the interesting emotions in this story were gathered and borrowed from this article: