Of Time and Names

“I wanted to know the name of every stone and flower and insect and bird and beast. I wanted to know where it got its color, where it got its life - but there was no one to tell me.” -George Washington Carver

Oliver jerked and fell out of the seat at the sound of the sound of his name. “What? Who—how do you know who I am?”

“Oliver Sidhnall, I am a craft which travels through the sub-pockets of space.” When the boy merely gaped and gazed around blankly, the voice continued, “I was not supposed to open for you until you were much older, but the presence of DNA material against my hull concerned me.” Frown lines appeared between Oliver’s brow as his hand came up to touch his broken nose. “From whom are you running? I have limited weaponry but will protect you if I must.”

“No! No, don’t… don’t hurt them! It’s not… it isn’t their fault, but I—can you hide us? Like you were before my… my blood touched you?” the boy stammered.

“Of course, I will move us into a pocket for the time being.” The view of the woods shimmered out of sight, leaving only a pearlescent black as the voice continued, “I must insist that you explain your flight, however; I am still picking up signs of distress.”

Oliver slowly eased himself back into the chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Answer my other question first: how do you know me?”

“I am sorry, Oliver; I cannot answer that question until you are older.”

It struck the boy a little odd that the ship managed to sound so… genuine, but he explained as best he could, “… and they don’t really care that my family died. I’m just good money for most of them. This last set wasn’t too bad, but I’ve thought that before. If you can hide in pockets like this, why was I even able to run into you?”

There was a long pause—by the end of which Oliver was certain he’d not get an answer—before the AI finally answered, “Are you familiar with recessive genes, young Sidhnall?”

“That’s the… Punnet squares, right?” he asked tremulously.

“Indeed. A recessive gene runs in your bloodline that grants access to my cerebral mainframe. In short, you can… call me to you—but only in great need. Otherwise I would appear to you at the appointed time and in an appropriate place.”

“Did my father know about this?”

“Indeed, Oliver Sidhnall; he gave my final orders.”

Shock tumbled into a deep, silent brood that seemed to increase the volume of every thrum and hiss the craft made. Why would his dad have hidden such an important thing from him and his sisters? Did this mean his dad had survived the fire? No. He wouldn’t leave His Oli alone and vulnerable.

None of the questions that came to mind were safe enough to ask, so the boy froze outwardly, his mind a vortex of stumbling thoughts, images, and scent-memories. With nothing to mark the passage of time, he was startled to find that he was hungry when the ship manifested a hot but unidentifiable meal. Surely it hadn’t been too long since lunch… had it? “Ship?”

“Yes, Oliver Sidhnall?” it thrummed.

“How long…” he contemplated for a moment before continuing, “since I ran into you?”

“Five hours and thirteen minutes. Is something wrong?”

“No. I just… lost track of time.” Oli savoured the odd but delicious food. “Ship?”

“Yes, Oliver Sidhnall?”

The boy cringed. “Call me Oli.”

“Yes, Oli,” it answered in such a tone that Oli wasn’t sure if it was agreeing or consenting… and he wasn’t sure why that mattered.

“What should I call you?”

“I do not have a designation. Crafts of my design do not gain a designation until the oldest remaining survivor of the bloodline activates and names me.”

The boy puzzled over that for a bit before asking, “So… I can name you whatever I want?”

“Yes, Oli.”

“Does your design have a name?”

A bit of whirring and humming filled the room before the view-screen lit up with schematics and descriptions. “I am one of the Tylwyth Golau.”

“Faerie Light?”

“Light Family, Oli.”

“Because you’re shaped like a light bug?”

A high hum sent gentle vibrations through Oli’s chair before the ship conceded, “Perhaps, Oli.”

“What about Rhyddid?”

Rhyddid thrummed, and softened its lights for a moment. “A wonderful name, Oli. Thank you. I am fulfilled in being your freedom.”