light illuminated the narrow walls of the shaft, but ahead he saw only inky blackness. He took a breath and entered the small tunnel. The walls squeezed tight against both his sides and he felt more than a little claustrophobic. Despite what his work required him to do, and the confined spaces he found himself in everyday, he had never gotten used to small, dark spaces.
Jonathas experienced a moment of panic when the walls seemed to grow narrower, but he continued onward, blocking out all thoughts except Linsya’s beautiful face, that shining beacon of hope inspiring his body to move forward through the narrow shaft.
He called her name again, hoping his voice would carry through the length of the vent, but he was met with nothing but suffocating silence.
Chapter 12
A small hatch hissed open and MiLO emerged from his maintenance chamber, rubber treads softly humming as he glided toward Skyia. His steel cylindrical body was more shiny and reflective than usual, as if all his parts had recently received a good buffing.
“MiLO, you look fabulous!” she beamed at him.
The lights on the small robot’s chest display blinked happily. “Don’t I always?” He turned and wheeled toward the main door of the control room.
She skipped after him. “Of course. But today, I swear you look more…
polished
than usual.”
“Thanks for noticing,” he said. “I had the system apply an extra coat of synthetic polymer to my body casing and all my lights have been re-ionized.” Indeed, she noticed the lights on his front panel flickered with additional vigor.
Skyia was always gushing over her mechanical companion. Some people said it was impossible for humans to have meaningful relationships with machines, but they had obviously never met MiLO. He’d been a fixture in her life for as long as she could remember, always working around the Tower, helping Skyia and her mother keep their house in order, and alerting them to any unusual weather patterns or storms that they would have to prepare for. He also operated the Tower’s entire communication system almost single-handedly.
Over the years, MiLO had truly become her friend. She had spent countless peaceful moments in his calming presence, had always been able to talk to him in times of need or loneliness while her mother was away, and viewed him as a friend and fellow Signal Keeper.
Skyia was aware that she herself was only a blip in his expansive life. She always struggled with that concept, for MiLO had actually been built on Earth, all those centuries ago. It had taken several hundred years for the
Resurrection Ark
to travel from Earth to the Rigil Kentaurus system. MiLO had been onboard the ship, performing many of the same maintenance and repair functions that he did now. He had been an integral component of that vessel, keeping thousands of cryogenically frozen settlers alive over the course of their long journey. He’d acted as the ship’s brain, its mechanical captain, and had been instrumental in the success of that brave and desperate mission: bringing humanity through the depths of space to the unknown world of Taran.
When Skyia did the math, she realized that MiLO was almost four hundred years old.
She followed him through the short hallway, carved from the rock, and into the more habitable portion of the house.
“Come on, you have to tell me,” she pleaded. “What’s the occasion, MiLO? Am I right, is it your birthday today? Are you really four hundred years old? Oh no, I didn’t get you anything.” She frowned as MiLO wheeled into her bedroom.
A trill of beeps. “No, Skyia, when have we ever celebrated my birthday? Besides, I’m only… 398.3 years old.”
He rolled to a stop in front of Skyia’s dressing mirror. A thin arm emerged from his body which he used to open a drawer and remove a long boar-bristle brush.
Skyia huffed as she accepted the brush. “Does my hair really look that bad?” She checked herself in the mirror and combed
Jonathas experienced a moment of panic when the walls seemed to grow narrower, but he continued onward, blocking out all thoughts except Linsya’s beautiful face, that shining beacon of hope inspiring his body to move forward through the narrow shaft.
He called her name again, hoping his voice would carry through the length of the vent, but he was met with nothing but suffocating silence.
Chapter 12
A small hatch hissed open and MiLO emerged from his maintenance chamber, rubber treads softly humming as he glided toward Skyia. His steel cylindrical body was more shiny and reflective than usual, as if all his parts had recently received a good buffing.
“MiLO, you look fabulous!” she beamed at him.
The lights on the small robot’s chest display blinked happily. “Don’t I always?” He turned and wheeled toward the main door of the control room.
She skipped after him. “Of course. But today, I swear you look more…
polished
than usual.”
“Thanks for noticing,” he said. “I had the system apply an extra coat of synthetic polymer to my body casing and all my lights have been re-ionized.” Indeed, she noticed the lights on his front panel flickered with additional vigor.
Skyia was always gushing over her mechanical companion. Some people said it was impossible for humans to have meaningful relationships with machines, but they had obviously never met MiLO. He’d been a fixture in her life for as long as she could remember, always working around the Tower, helping Skyia and her mother keep their house in order, and alerting them to any unusual weather patterns or storms that they would have to prepare for. He also operated the Tower’s entire communication system almost single-handedly.
Over the years, MiLO had truly become her friend. She had spent countless peaceful moments in his calming presence, had always been able to talk to him in times of need or loneliness while her mother was away, and viewed him as a friend and fellow Signal Keeper.
Skyia was aware that she herself was only a blip in his expansive life. She always struggled with that concept, for MiLO had actually been built on Earth, all those centuries ago. It had taken several hundred years for the
Resurrection Ark
to travel from Earth to the Rigil Kentaurus system. MiLO had been onboard the ship, performing many of the same maintenance and repair functions that he did now. He had been an integral component of that vessel, keeping thousands of cryogenically frozen settlers alive over the course of their long journey. He’d acted as the ship’s brain, its mechanical captain, and had been instrumental in the success of that brave and desperate mission: bringing humanity through the depths of space to the unknown world of Taran.
When Skyia did the math, she realized that MiLO was almost four hundred years old.
She followed him through the short hallway, carved from the rock, and into the more habitable portion of the house.
“Come on, you have to tell me,” she pleaded. “What’s the occasion, MiLO? Am I right, is it your birthday today? Are you really four hundred years old? Oh no, I didn’t get you anything.” She frowned as MiLO wheeled into her bedroom.
A trill of beeps. “No, Skyia, when have we ever celebrated my birthday? Besides, I’m only… 398.3 years old.”
He rolled to a stop in front of Skyia’s dressing mirror. A thin arm emerged from his body which he used to open a drawer and remove a long boar-bristle brush.
Skyia huffed as she accepted the brush. “Does my hair really look that bad?” She checked herself in the mirror and combed
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