Building Better Worlds

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Everything you need to know about the UMBRA INTERSTELLAR CORPORATION you can learn just by looking at its logo.

It’s right there on every crew member’s jumpsuit. It’s the default screen saver on every computer on the ship.

There is a circle. Inside the circle is a blue flame. That flame represents energy. Because that is what we do here at UMBRA. We are in the energy business. We facilitate the collection and distribution of natural resources from asteroids, moons and planets.

“It is good and honorable work. The flame of human civilization burns brightly as ever, and UMBRA INTERSTELLAR provides the fuel.”

That is an actual line from the on-boarding video that I sat through during orientation on my first day at UMBRA.

What they meant to say, or should have said, was that human civilization is completely out of control. I'm talking off the rails, just beyond any hope of redemption. With appetites too large for any one planet to sustain. But you know that already.

Always reaching. More. More industry. More consumption. More expansion. More energy. Well, that's where UMBRA comes in.

“You’re sitting here because we need experienced resource extraction personnel like yourself to keep that flame burning.” the training video had said, dubbing over a montage of promotional footage which showcased the natural beauty of faraway moons and planets.

They showed us fields of bluegrass swaying in the wind on Proxima Centauri B. Floating cities over Venus at night, glittering in the dark. Factories juicing the virgin skies of Kepler-186f.

“As a newly minted labor astronaut, you will visit exotic worlds and do exciting work in service to all mankind.”

I remember they specifically used the word ‘mankind’, which I think revealed a shockingly outmoded perspective on gender, not to mention false assumptions of a monolith human culture, all of which annoyed me deeply at the time.

After the orientation video, a serious-looking company guy showed up and started talking about the specifics of the job. He was thin and pale, with slicked back golden hair and a large head. He introduced himself as Captain Macalester. His ship was called Nabopolassar. It was a corporate research vessel that had been repurposed to haul cargo.

He was looking for a crew that would travel with him to the TRAPPIST-1 system, about forty light-years away. It was a long haul journey, over a century of cryosleep required. Highly inconvenient, but that was reflected in the payment terms on the contract.

Next, he showed us a rotating three dimensional model in augmented reality. It was a complex rendering of the TRAPPIST-1 system that showed all of the important data points and measurements.

This was an ultracool red dwarf star with a harem of seven planets. The projection was colorful and detailed, an exploded Christmas tree in the dark. Professionally rendered and animated -- you don't see that every day.

The Captain's stated goal was to lay the groundwork for what would eventually become a robust mining operation. The expedition would be well-funded; UMBRA had deep pockets. They also evidently had ambitious plans for TRAPPIST-1, with its six habitable planets and rich abundance of platinum-group metals.

Getting in on the ground floor, is how Macalester pitched it to us.

I took the job, of course. I signed the contract and joined the crew. But that was only means to an end. For I was thinking about another job as well. One that I had given to myself.

At first, it was just an idea. I wasn't even sure if I would really go through with it. At least, not until I saw the virgin paradise planets of TRAPPIST-1 for myself.

That's when I knew what had to be done to protect them.

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Captain Macalester snaps his fingers in front of my face, ending my train of thought. I realize that I have been staring at the UMBRA logo on his jacket for a long time. We are in a makeshift holding cell on the surface of Trappist-1e. It is a ramshackle building with one tiny window and a heavy iron door.

“Are you even listening?” he says, exasperated. The Captain is seated across from me on a stool. The stool is made from the characteristically smooth wood of the indigenous Blackwood palm trees. His hair is curiously deflated and disheveled. He carries the haunted look of a man who hasn't slept for days.

“I'm sorry, Captain,” I say, adjusting the weight of the shackles on my wrist. “I was light-years away.”

Macalester sighs and buries his hands in his face. He looks miserable. Particles of sand and dust are blowing around lazily in the ray of sunlight that is coming from the window.

I decide to try once more to make him understand why I have sabotaged the mission and stranded us all on a wild frontier planet. I sit back calmly and look toward the ceiling.

“Earth was beautiful, once.” I tell him. “Actually, it was perfect. This idea of paradise that we all have. The perfect world. Diverse and teeming with life. That idea comes from Earth, you know.”

Macalester sits up and looks angrily at me.

“We should have protected our paradise. We should have treasured it. Instead, we let corporations like yours burn it to the ground. Now look at it.”

“A tragedy. Nobody is saying otherwise. But it's not my fault.” Macalester says.

Macalester looks appalled when I tell him that the most tragic part is knowing humans survived the end of the world, when they should have gone extinct then and there.

“Don't make that face, Captain. You know it's what we deserve.” I say to him. “We had so many opportunities to change our ways, but we just kept on going. A whole planet, ruined. And now we're on to other planets, doing the same thing. Spreading. Consuming. Destroying. Infecting.”

I shake my head in disgust and keep going. I am rambling at this point, but that's fine.

“You people.” I say this looking directly at Macalester. “You company men. You're all the same. You just do what everyone has always done, because you can't think of anything else. You chase after money. You claw your way to the money.”

“You would have destroyed this place, too. You know I'm right. You want to colonize this planet, and the others? That really sounds like a good idea to you? With a track record like ours?”

I can still remember the fire storms advancing on the horizon, red skies over dead cities in the Exclusion Zones. Palm trees ripped apart by rogue waves. Island nations and coastal cities vanished overnight.

“You're crazy.” Macalester says, eyes wide. “You've doomed us all. And you haven't changed a thing. We will die here, but others will come to take our place. This system is perfect. The best we've found by far. You think they're going to just move on?”

The Captain stands up and hovers over me in silence for a few moments. He looks dazed and tired. Then he wanders out of the shack abruptly, without waiting for a response or even bothering to close the door behind him.

The salty ocean breeze comes in and overtakes the stale odor that I had gotten used to inside the cell. After a while I get up and walk out after him.

The sunlight hits me like an orgasm. It takes another me another few minutes for me to pull myself together. Then I take a deep breath and look around at the ocean, the beach, and the impossible beauty of the white forests beyond. Those surreal white sand forests. The crew called it the Clean Woods.

The Captain has fallen to his knees on the beach. He is looking out to sea. I take a few more moments to soak in the magical sunlight and fresh air. Then I walk over and sit down beside him on the shining white sand.

“You don't know what you've taken from me,” he eventually says.

But I do. Of course I do. It's written all over his face. He wanted to live an interplanetary lifestyle. He wanted to see nebulas and young stars and spooky remote planets.

That ancient dream that many humans have. The great voyage... interstellar life... colonizing new worlds... Learning the dark secrets of the universe...

It's a nice thought. A warm pleasant dream of a wonderful future.

What Captain Macalester will never understand, or will never accept, is that we aren't ready for it, we haven't properly earned it, and we simply don't deserve it.