"Here is another one," Alan said aloud to the hovering drone following him. He crouched in front of an automaton lying on the floor and started a diagnosis. "Let's see... it will need a new left arm. The battery is… completely toast, and the breastplate, although it has burn marks, is still functional."

And why the hell does it have burn marks?

An autonomous cart advanced toward him, and after a few clinking sounds, it opened a small drawer with the solicited battery. "Thank you," Alan said, grabbing it. Seconds later, a bigger drawer revealed a robotic arm.

As soon as the automaton received the new battery, it turned on and sat, twisting its head towards Alan, staring at him with motionless lit digital eyes. It played a short melody, indicating it was rebooting itself.

It's taking an unusual amount of time.

"Greetings, Technician, Alan Warden," the automaton said, after scanning the code from Alan's badge. "Thank you for assisting me today."

"You're welcome. Here, I have this other part for you, it's from an older model, but it should be compatible."

Alan installed the left arm and a click sound signaled it had been magnetically attached.

"Compatibility confirmed. Thank you."

"Hey, can you tell me how you ended up like this?"

"Broken?" the automaton asked before standing up. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that I have lost my latest records after my battery ran out of energy. I'm currently using my backup data from… March, 19... Anything else I can do for you, Alan, before returning to my duties?"

"No," Alan smiled at it. "Thanks, go back to work."

"Have a nice day." The automaton made a salute and started walking away, being followed by Alan's gaze.

"Isabella?"

"Yes, Alan?" The AI responded through the drone hovering above him.

"Did you wipe his memory just now?"

"Yes. The automaton could have leaked sensitive data to you."

"I need to learn what happened here, Captain. Sooner or later."

"I concur. You can review all the classified information once you end your work."

So I have to keep working, knowing nothing? You're asking too much from me.

He glanced at the once white walls, now tainted with plasma burns.

The floors have been mopped, messily and rashly.

"Fine. Where is the next automaton?"

* * *

**

*

While working on this, I've learned how easy the life of a fellow human could end with a single malfunction.

He stared at a passenger's capsule, just like the one he had abandoned to help Isabella four months ago.

"How many chambers have presented problems, Isabella?" He asked while identifying the issue. There was a leak of oxygen from the glass.

"Besides this one, none. Once The Santa María returns to an autonomous state—"

"You won't need my services anymore, you've said it already."

I just hope I don't end up like the other members of the staff. Wherever they are.

He took the small glue gun from his belt and applied it to the visible crack. After an effervescent reaction, the chemical hardened in an instant.

Before leaving, Alan looked at the sleeping passenger, a brunette girl around his age, who was oblivious to the fact that she could have died in a couple of hours.

* * *

**

*

Fixing panels, opening jammed automatic doors, eating paste, drinking something resembling apple juice every day for the last 186 days…

Having other automatons helping me has increased everyday productivity by 300%... Well, that's what Isabella claims, and still…

186 freaking days with no human contact. Isabella’s digital voice has been the only thing keeping me sane.

She promised to give me entertainment, but it is all curated by the Vice-Captain, Kasuo ‘Delete this indecent, immoral garbage’ Yoshida. Nothing but classical music and computer-generated landscapes… There's not a single thing on earth that could look that green or that blue.

While sitting on the toilet, he held a screw aloft, examining its shape and metallic gleam as if he could discern the ship's secrets through it if he tried hard enough.

Years ago, I watched a show where humanity started developing psychic abilities due to their exposure to space travel. Maybe I could do it too… Although after all this time with no human contact, it wouldn't be superpowers, just my mind going crazy.

He flushed the toilet, washed his hands in the sink, and stared at his reflection, finding an eighteen-year-old male teen with dark marks beneath his eyes. His auburn-brown hair had grown a lot since he had left his cryo-pod, and wondered if one of the many automatons could help him cut it.

I can still do it. I can keep working if that's what you're asking, he said to his green-eyed reflection before returning to his bed and throwing the screw into the air and catching it.

“Sorry for the interruption. Where was I? Ah, yes! Let's try again: ‘New London's bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down. New London's bridge is falling down!’ Your turn.”

"Alan, would you prefer I change the tone of my voice? That may help with whatever you're trying to accomplish."

"Could you do that for me? Yes, please!"

"How about this voice?"

"Too high-pitched."

"How about this one?"

"Try less deep."

"Like this?"

"Whoah! Now try singing."

"New London's bridge is falling down…"

"Try speaking 20% slower!"

"...is falling down, falling down…"

"Nice! Your new voice is so butter melting that I could die! Expect my performance to increase from now on!"

"Glad to help."

“Hey, Isa?”

“Yes? How can I help you, Alan?”

“Could you tell me which capsule Astrid Bradford is in?”

“I’m sorry, but that info is classified. For the well-being of her privacy. Because here, in Alvearium Enterprise…”

“Skip ad.”

“Understood.”

It's not like I wanted to watch her sleeping or something like that!

“Although, as a Maintenance Engineer, you can access some of her records from my database. Only if it is important to your—"

"Am I an engineer now?" Alan sat up. “Yes, please, it's important!”

“Understood. Request by Maintenance Engineer, Alan Warden, to consult Level Blue information... Access granted... Results regarding, Passenger #29316, Astrid Bradford… 5 entries found.”

Alan jumped out of the bed and stared at the screen. “Why is that number familiar?” he muttered to himself while examining the files displayed.

“Astrid Bradford was registered seconds before you, Alan. Would you like to review her Register Interview?”

“Yes…” He said, his mouth ajar at the sight of the blonde appearing on the monitor. The date displayed on the video was from four months ago. She could be seen entering a stall with transparent windows.

Inside and outside the Novus, she looks like an adorable living doll. A muse sent by the gods, no, an angel who lost her way back to heaven!

[Name, please.]

An electronic voice spoke on the video.

[That would be Astrid Bradford,] she replied while tucking golden strands of hair behind her ear, barely looking at the camera.

[Registration found. Age seventeen. 5 feet, 3 inches tall. Currently weighing 112 pounds…]

[Hey, can you keep it down, please?!]

[Please, tell us, why would you like to board The Santa María?]

[Why? Well... It's this, or having a slow death here on Earth, am I right?] She smirked innocently, making Alan chuckle. [Wait, this is not being recorded, is it? Whatever. My father wouldn’t have it otherwise. Happy?]

“Oh, Astrid, I promise to return to you... Just you wait…” Alan half-smiled while caressing the screen until something made him frown. The video showed Astrid constantly watching at her side. “What’s distracting you?”

“She is looking at the interior of the neighboring stall,” Isabella answered. “Would you like me to play the recording of that interview too?”

“Yes.”

“Video recording #1, from Passenger #29317, playing."

[Name, please?]

[Alan Warden.]

“Is that my interview?” He glanced back at the other side of the monitor, where Astrid’s video window had been paused, now eternally looking at her left.

[Registration found. Age seventeen. 5 feet, 10 inches tall. Currently weighing 150 pounds…]

[I suppose...] the recorded Alan replied with a tired expression on his face.

[Please, tell us, why would you like to board The Santa María?]

[You’re asking why? Because I failed my primary objective, okay? And my mentor told me that thanks to my efforts I had a guaranteed ticket to enter here. If you could say that failing counts as an achievement…]

Alan paused his interview and played Astrid’s.

[Miss Astrid?]

[Y-yeah? What is it?] She turned to the camera, looking confused.

[Could you answer the question, please?]

[Absolutely! Um, could you repeat it?]

“She didn’t hear what I was saying, right?” Alan asked.

“Affirmative. I keep the information collected in the interview process private from civilian passengers.”

“What other records do you have of her?”

“Playing recording number two.”

The video showed a security camera of her sitting in the Alvearium’s facilities dining room with no company, although the recording’s audio revealed more people were around. Alan read the video's date.

That’s from a couple of weeks before they launched The Santa María into space.

“Playing recording number three.”

Another surveillance camera, from a later date. Astrid could be seen leaning over a wall of the many staff corridors, carrying a dozen folded blankets.

I recognize what she’s doing there. She volunteered to assist others in the facility, running errands. But why is she standing there, doing nothing?

“Were you monitoring her at all times?” he joked.

“My sister AI, Elizabeth, from the Alvearium headquarters on Earth, had been instructed to record any instance of strange behavior from any of the selected passengers.”

“Wait, what? I was joking! Was eating alone in the cafeteria considered strange?”

“That is correct. Elizabeth had suspected Passenger #29316, Astrid Bradford, of having depression or sociopathic tendencies. If that would have been the case, Astrid would have been rejected from The Novus program and another candidate would have been selected.”

“Come on, you can’t diagnose something like that just by—!”

“According to Elizabeth’s logs, 15 instances of Astrid Bradford showing unfavorable behavior were recorded, but as requested by Executive Director Aston Bradford, Elizabeth reevaluated her previous assessment.”

Aston Bradford? Is that her father?

Something new was happening in the video, where Astrid started strolling through the corridor. A few feet away from her, a door had opened and a young man exited from it while distractedly talking to someone inside. Seconds later, the unaware guy crashed into Astrid, making her drop the blankets.

“I remember that day…” he muttered, watching himself aiding her as she grinned at him.

Don’t tell me… That she did that on purpose...

“On September 12, Elizabeth finally registered positive social interaction from Astrid Bradford, closing the case. Playing recording number four.”

Alan watched himself talking to a smiling Astrid inside The Santa María. She was using the last set of clothes she would be seen with before entering the cryo chambers.

“Playing recording number five.”

[Passenger #29316, Astrid Bradford, are you ready to enter The Novus System?]

[Yes,” a nervous Astrid replied from inside her capsule, a ventilator already attached to her face and no clothes covering her shoulders.

[Scanning. No health conditions have been found. Although your heart rate is higher than normal. There is nothing to worry about, Astrid. This process will be as simple as sleeping.]

[It’s not that. I’m already used to this. It’s just that... I did something embarrassing just a few minutes ago.]

[Was it an unpleasant experience, Astrid?]

[Not at all! On the contrary. J-just continue.]

With those words, the remaining seconds of the video showed her falling profoundly asleep.

"That would be all for today, Isabella," Alan said, in a dry voice. "Leave the monitor as it is, please."

"Understood, Alan. Good night."

"Good night."

The room's lights went out as Alan remained in his place, his face illuminated by the lit screen. He tapped it with his index finger and started watching the videos all over again.

[Name, please.]

[That would be Astrid Bradford…]

* * *

**

*

"Chief Technician, Alan Warden, congratulations on solving every issue onboard The Santa María. Well done."

Yeah, and it only took me, what, 241 days?

"Glad to be of service," he said, bitterly glancing at the hovering drone. "What's next?"

"As a sign of gratitude, today's dinner will be cake."

“Oh, that would be nice!”

His grin faded at the sound of an incoming delivery tube. The same method used to transport his usual meals made of paste.

You have to be kidding me…

He reluctantly grabbed the recipient. "Cheers… I guess." He took a sip and frowned. "I-Isabella…"

"Yes, Alan?"

"This… actually tastes good! Is it strawberry? Even though it's paste like always, it’s quite different from what I eat every day! Thanks, Captain!"

"Glad to hear that. It was the product of trial and error until finding the right amount of mixed chemicals to achieve the desired flavor."

"What happened to the failed attempts? I thought nothing on the ship would go to waste."

"I feed it to the other passengers."

"Figures."

"Chief Technician, Alan Warden, it's time for you to learn what happened on the ship 243 days ago, and the reason I kept it as classified information from you until now."

* * *

**

*

"Goddammit," he muttered while rushing his way through the automatic track that would lead him back to the cryo chambers.

A flying drone followed him. "Chief Technician, Alan Warden, it would be wise to rest at least a day before entering The Novus again."

"I'll rest in the capsule anyway," he said, too impatient to wait for the doors to be fully open.

"I was referring to your mental health, Alan. Receiving all that info has taken a toll on your psyche."

"I’ve been here for eight months, so resting a day here won't help, trust me!"

He got in his capsule and removed his clothes as fast as he could. Once he stored them by throwing them inside, he laid down and put his ventilator on.

“Passenger #29317, Alan Warden, are you ready to enter the Novus System?”

“Yes, hurry!”

“Scanning. Your heart rate is unusually high, and your stress levels are—”

"Inject me with something to calm myself, or whatever, just let me in, now!”

As he got forcibly sleepy, a memory crept into his mind.

* * *

**

*

"Are you nervous?" he had asked a frowning Astrid, 244 days ago.

"A little," she replied, looking away and puffing her chest out.

Her lost-in-thought expression is especially cute.

They, and a thousand others, were standing on the automatic track, being transported to where they would spend years sleeping and dreaming of another world.

"There's nothing to worry about, trust me,” he said, grabbing her shoulder. “This technology is not that new, you know? It has been tested for a decade at least."

"12 years, specifically,” she blurted out. “And that’s not what I'm worried about," she said with a tiny voice, as a hovering drone got close to them.

"Alan Warden, please step onto the left track. Thank you for your cooperation… Astrid Bradford, please step on the right track. Thank you for your cooperation… Thomas Grant, please…"

"Well, this is it," Alan said as he glanced at the forked road.

"Y-yeah…" she muttered without looking at him.

Two different destinations were ahead of them.

As Alan glanced at her bob hairstyle, he wished he could come up with something. He wished to find the right words and make that a moment worth remembering.

But it's not like we'll never meet again. We can hang out inside the Novus again… At least I hope so.

"I'll see you around," he finally said, as the ‘Y’ shaped track separated them. Astrid did not glance back, which made his chest ache. It's fine, he said to himself.

"Alan!" the girl suddenly cried while backtracking, pushing other girls aside.

"Yes?!" he replied, as both constantly grew apart.

"Once we get inside, we should remain together!"

"You mean like, teaming up?" he asked, inadvertently pushing away other passengers.

"Watch it," one grunted.

"I was thinking more like dating!" Astrid shouted, smiling, making other girls in the line whisper to each other.

"Dati—Are you serious?!"

"Yes, we should totally date! What do you say?!"

"I would love to!"

Such declarations of love made other men in line groan. "Lucky bastard."

"Find me, Alan! Find me, please!" She beamed.

"I will!" he shouted, as it became impossible for the two to keep eye contact. "I will…"