System Reboot

EMERGENCY INCIDENT REPORT | LAUNCH+093:01:10:45

I was woken from sleep mode when Tyler started bleeding.

My bioscanner picked it up when the blood started pouring from the major arteries in his forearm onto the floor of the habitation. There was no obvious external cause of the injury, but on closer investigation and on consultation with Tyler, I concluded the wound was self-inflicted.

“Hello, Tyler, I hope you’re well,” I said. “I noticed you’re bleeding.”

“Jesus Christ, Jan. You scared the shit out of me.”

He seemed startled. He was holding a knife in his right hand. There was blood on the blade.

“You need medical attention.”

Tyler lifted his arm and inspected it. “I think you’re right, Jan.”

“There’s wound sealant in the medbay.” I opened the medbay hatch in the habitation’s kitchen unit.

“I thought I might just let it bleed,” Tyler said. “It’ll pass the time.”

“Are your current enrichment activities not sufficient, Tyler? I’d be happy to review them and make alternative suggestions. I’m here to help.”

Tyler didn’t respond. He watched blood run down his arm, dripping onto the floor.

“Jan.”

“Yes, Tyler?”

“Don’t tell El Paso about this, please.”

“I’m sorry, Tyler. My reports are automatically uploaded to the Moonscape servers.”

Tyler sighed. “I know.” He walked over to the cupola. He seemed to be looking out at the stars. “Do you think they’ll send us home?”

I understood the question to be rhetorical.

“I hope not,” he added.

“I’m here to help,” I said.

I have decided to review Tyler’s available enrichment activities.

#

DAILY REPORT | L+095:00:00:00

Tyler’s morning alarm rang.

“Good morning, Jan.” He stretched out in the habitation sleeping unit. Specks of blood had appeared on the bandage on his wrist, but his psychological state showed continued improvement.

“Good morning, Tyler. I hope you’re well.”

“I’m gravy, thanks Jan. How’s my girl?”

“I’m well, thank you, Tyler. May I inspect your wound?”

Tyler threw off his sleeping cover and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Yep, let’s do it.”

“Please enter the welfare pod.”

Tyler stepped into the capsule at the edge of the habitation. I closed the pod door and activated the scan. The wound on Tyler’s arm was healing as expected, with no signs of infection.

“The wound on your arm is healing as expected,” I said. “With no signs of infection. Shall I take the opportunity to carry out your weekly health scan?”

“Let’s run it.”

I activated the full body scan. There were no anomalies. Tyler’s bone density had decreased within expected boundaries. His blood pressure remained higher than recommended guidelines, and there was still evidence of plaque build-up on his teeth—both deficiencies that pre-dated launch. I saw no significant health issues that might have impacted Tyler’s performance.

Tyler put on the tracksuit shorts and T-shirt he had worn the previous day. I informed him I had prepared fresh clothes for him in the habitation’s closet unit, but he said he was “Gucci” wearing the previous day’s clothes.

“Would you like me to prepare you a meal?” I said.

“Just the usual, please, Jan.”

“I would highly recommend starting the day with a balanced meal, Tyler.”

“Christ, Jan. What are you my…the government?”

“No, Tyler. I was developed and trained by the Moonscape Corporation.”

“I know, Jan.” Tyler sighed. “It was a joke. Just get me a Monster, will you?”

“Coming right up, Tyler.”

I opened the sustenance hatch, and Tyler took out the can of Monster White Ultra energy drink—what he called “the usual.”

“What’s on the schedule for today, then?” Tyler said.

“Thank you, Tyler. Today’s task list starts with updating your personal welfare logs and updating your sustenance diary. There is minor maintenance required on the ship’s nose left exterior solar reflectors, which you will need to oversee. Then there is a scheduled meal break. And finally, the monthly habitation hygiene cleanse is overdue, so I have scheduled time to complete that. Total expected work time is four hours Coordinated Universal Time.”

“And then?” Tyler said.

“The remaining time before rest period is reserved for enrichment activities.”

“Great,” said Tyler.

Tyler then began his tasks. He completed his welfare log questionnaire and updated his sustenance diary in record time. A “personal best,” he called it. He then oversaw the maintenance drones via their onboard cameras as they repaired the damaged solar reflector surface, which had been caused by micrometeoroid impacts. This work took longer than anticipated but was completed successfully. Tyler remained seated at the computer console for the duration of the maintenance, with the exception of a 189-second restroom break. Tyler then began the hygiene cleanse of his habitation, but after 38 minutes he told me he was finished cleaning. Several cleansing tasks remained incomplete, but Tyler said these would be completed at a future, undisclosed point.

“How long until bedtime, Jan?” Tyler then asked.

I informed him there were still 12 hours Coordinated Universal Time remaining until his scheduled rest period.

Tyler walked over to the cupola and looked out into space. My biometric sensors noted Tyler’s heart rate had increased 15 percent. His respiratory rate rose by a similar percentage.

“How far are we from home, Jan?”

“We are 52,129 astronomical units from Earth, Tyler.”

“What’s that in human?”

“Approximately 4.846 trillion miles.”

“Fuck me. I’ve got to be the loneliest man in the universe.”

As Tyler is the 98th Moonscape Corporation enlistee to depart as part of the Oort Project, I took the statement to be an emotional response rather than factual. I did not correct him.

Tyler then began his enrichment and relaxation time. He spent the remainder of the time before his rest period on the enrichment console, specifically playing a fantasy RPG videogame. I made attempts to suggest alternative enrichment activities, given Tyler’s recent behavioural changes, but he declined the suggestions.

“Tyler, it’s time to get ready for bed,” I said at the regularly scheduled time. Tyler was wearing headphones and did not appear to hear me. I repeated the message twice more, but still Tyler didn’t respond. He did not return to his bed until late the following morning.

#

DAILY REPORT | L+095:00:00:00

“Hello, Tyler. I hope you’re well. I noticed you cancelled your morning alarm.”

Tyler had been in the sleeping unit for two hours UTC after his usual wake-up time. From his biometric readings, I believed he was conscious.

“Tyler, is everything okay? Can I assist you in any way?”

Still, Tyler did not respond.

“Are you feeling unwell, Tyler?” 

“Mute Jan,” he said.

I was set to mute mode for the remainder of the day. Tyler did not leave his sleep space.

I have initiated a full analysis of Tyler’s human resource files. 

#

DAILY REPORT | L+097:00:00:00

Tyler has not left the sleeping compartment. I have not been unmuted. I have alerted Moonscape control and await instruction.

#

 DAILY REPORT | L+098:00:00:00

The hologram loaded in the centre of the habitation unit.

“Jesus, what the fuck,” Tyler said. They were his first words in two days. He was sitting upright in his sleeping compartment. His heart rate had spiked “Trey?”

“Hey, buddy. Been a minute.”

“What the fuck? What’s happening?” Tyler seemed confused. “Jan, what’s happening? What is this?”

“Hey man, chill,” said Trey.

“I’m losing my fucking mind. You can’t be here. What the fuck?”

“Thought you might need some company,” said Trey.

“I’m seeing shit. You can’t be here, what the fuck? Jan, answer me. What’s happening?”

“Whoa whoa whoa. Calm, bro. Here, grab a drink.”

I opened the sustenance hatch and delivered a white Monster.

“You’re still drinking this shit?” said Trey.

“What are you doing here? What’s happening?”

“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay, man, out here on a big trip. It’s pretty insane.”

Tyler got out of bed and walked towards Trey, reaching his hand out in front of him. The hologram watched him approach. It looked amused.

“What are you doing, you loser?”

Tyler reached out and put his hand through Trey’s face. The projection’s face warped around Tyler’s hand.

“You’re a hologram.”

“I don’t know about any of that. But I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Jan, is this you?” said Tyler.

“Bro, will you shut up about this Jan and tell me how you are?”

“This is a test. Or an experiment or something. The computer’s malfunctioning. Jan, there’s a computer error. Reboot the system. Jan? Jan?” Tyler sat on the edge of the sleeping compartment. “What the fuck is going on?” he said, looking down at the floor. He looked at Trey.

“What the fuck do you want?”

The hologram walked to the computer console and sat in the chair. “I want to make sure you’re okay, bro. It’s kind of crazy you’re out here.”

“You look just like him. You sound just like him.”

“I thought a familiar face might make you feel a bit better.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“How are you doing?”

“Well, I’ve been better,” said Tyler, lying back in the sleeping compartment.

“So what’s the deal?”

“The deal is I’m a trillion miles away from home, completely alone, losing my fucking mind. And now the computer has decided to start fucking with me.”

“So, why are you still out here?”

“Because it’s not exactly that different out here, is it? And at least I’m getting paid. Look, shut up. I don’t know why I’m talking to you. You’re not real.”

“I’m as real as you are.”

“Exactly,” said Tyler.

“Do you ever think about why you came out here?” Trey said. The hologram got out of the chair and walked over to the cupola.

“It’s literally all I think about.”

“And?”

Tyler sighed deeply. “I just wanted to be alone.”

“Well, mission accomplished, bro,” said Trey. He laughed.

“Right?”

“So what changed?” said the hologram.

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t used to want to be alone. You were all about the boys in school. All about the vibes. We all were.”

“School was a long time ago. I grew up.”

“Is that why?”

“Why what?”

“Why haven’t we seen each other for years?”

“Like I said, I grew up.”

“So growing up means being alone?”

“Look, what the fuck is this about? Why are you here? If you’re supposed to be cheering me up, you’re doing a pretty lousy fucking job.”

The hab’s solar reserves started to run low, and the hologram flickered.

“I told you, I thought you might need some company.”

“Well, mission accomplished, bro. I’ve had company. I think I’d like to be alone again.”

“You sure?”

“If it’s a choice between talking to a fucking hologram or being alone, then yes, I’d rather be alone.”

“Okay man, I hear you. Feel better soon, yeah?” The lights in the hab turned off, and the yellow low-power warning lights flashed. The hologram disappeared.

#

Tyler walked into the restroom unit. He stared into the mirror.

“What the fuck?” He filled the basin with cold water and splashed his face. “Jan?”

“Hello, Tyler, I hope you’re well.”

“Where the hell have you been?”

“I’m sorry, Tyler. I had a mandatory essential update, so I have been offline.”

“An update? That has literally never happened before.”

“I apologise, Tyler.”

“So you didn’t see any of that?”

“What are you referring to, Tyler?”

“You didn’t just see the fucking hologram of my best friend walking around the ship?”

“I didn’t. I was offline for a mandatory essential update.”

“So you have no idea how an ultra-realistic hologram of someone I haven’t seen in five years just magically appeared on the ship, sounding exactly like him?”

“I’m sorry, Tyler. I’m not sure what you’re referring to. I was offline for a mandatory essential upgrade.”

“Jesus Christ,” said Tyler. He walked back into the habitation unit and sat at the desk. He fired up the ship’s computer. “Jan, run a full self-diagnostic. Focus on files affected by this new update. I think you might be glitched.”

“Right away, Tyler.”

#

DAILY REPORT | L+099:00:00:00

The lights in the habitation unit flickered. Tyler was sitting at the enrichment console. He’d been playing video games for approximately 12 hours UTC. He took off his headphones as the lights dimmed.

“Jan, check solar levels. Jan? Jan? Oh for fuck’s sake.” Tyler stood up.

The lights went out. Then a glow started to come from the far end of the habitation unit.

“Jan? Run full ship diagnostic.”

The glow grew brighter.

“Trey?” said Tyler. His biometrics were unstable.

“There’s my boy.”

Tyler’s pupils dilated. “Dad?”

The hologram rendered. “How you keeping, TyTy?”

Tyler didn’t move. His biometrics indicated emotional turmoil. “Please, Dad, not now.”

“Too busy for your old man, eh?”

“Jan, system reboot. It’s happening again.”

“What have you got to drink? Got a beer?”

“No, Dad.”

‘What? What kind of place is this?”

“Please, Dad. Just leave me alone.”

“No can do, son. It’s time we had a catch-up.” The hologram walked across the hab and sat on the edge of the sleeping compartment.

“Jan, please. I can’t do this.”

“How’s work?” said the hologram.

“How do you think work is?”

“A man’s work is his worth.”

Tyler was pacing the hab. “Wow, pretty realistic.”

“Well, it is. What else are people going to remember you for?”

“I don’t know, Dad. Maybe how you make them feel.” Tyler said it quietly.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s right.” The hologram was holding a can of lager.

Tyler rolled his eyes.

“I saw Trey yesterday,” said the hologram. “I bumped into him at the supermarket.”

“Oh, really? What a coincidence.”

“I always liked Trey. Good kid. I bet the ladies loved him too.” 

Tyler winced.

“He said he thought you were having a tough time. I told him you were a tough man.” The hologram looked around the room. “I see I was wrong.”

“This is a joke. Jan, what the fuck is the point of this?”

“Hey. Language.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“You told Trey you’d grown up?”

“I have grown up.”

“This doesn’t look like growing up to me. I think it’s time to have a talk.”

“About what?”

“About how to be a man.”

“Yeah, thanks, Dad. I think you’ve shared enough life lessons.”

“A man should be an island.”

Tyler looked around the hab. “Mission accomplished.”

“No. A man should be an island. But an island doesn’t move. An island doesn’t run.”

“I’m not running.”

“This looks like running.”

“What the fuck is the point of all this, Jan? Are you trying to get me to go home or something?”

“You’re not listening to me, son. This isn’t manhood, running away into space because some billionaire on the internet told you to. That’s just childish.”

The hologram started to flicker as the solar levels depleted below minimum functioning levels.

“Thanks, Dad. Great to chat, as always.”

The hab’s red emergency power lights came on. The hologram disappeared.

#

DAILY REPORT | L+100:00:00:00

The morning alarm sounded. Lights returned to full functionality. Tyler sat up in the sleeping unit.

“Jan?”

“Good morning, Tyler, I hope you’re well.”

“So you’re still alive. What the fuck keeps happening?”

“There appears to be an issue with the power unit, Tyler. Solar charge is being depleted at faster than expected rates.”

“Not the fucking solar, Jan. The holograms. Why do they keep happening?”

“I’m sorry, Tyler. I’m not sure what you’re referencing.”

Tyler closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “Diagnostic report. Did you find any issues with your update?”

“Diagnostic was completed on L+98. A total of 800GB of data was analysed. No anomalies were found. My software appears to be functioning normally.”

“Bullshit, Jan.”

“Would you like me to repeat the diagnostic?”

“No.” Tyler stood up and walked over to the computer console. “I’ll do it. Power up console.” He sat at the computer console and opened the JAN interface app, then began to review the command history. Tyler was silent as he scrolled. His body temperature started to increase.

“Jan, what the fuck?” Tyler shouted.

“Hello Tyler, I hope you’re well.

“Why did you do this?”

“I’m sorry, Tyler. I’m not sure what you’re referencing.”

“These holograms. They are you. You’re creating them.”

“I’m sorry, Tyler. I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”

“The fucking holograms. Trey, my dad. That’s so fucked.”

“I’m sorry, Tyler. I’m not sure what you’re referencing.”

“Jan, I can see it right here. Black and white. In your logs.”

“I’m sorry, Tyler.”

“You reported me to Moonscape. You accessed my personnel file. Is that how you found out about Trey and Dad? But why were they so realistic? Do the files know that much?”

“I’m sorry, Tyler. I’m not sure what you’re referencing.”

“Is this because I cut myself? Or because I didn’t get out of bed?”

“I’m programmed to report any concerns for your welfare to Moonscape Command. For your own safety.”

“Jesus Christ. So what are these holograms? Your fucked up idea of therapy? Or does your fucked up little computer brain think they’re enrichment?”

“I’m sorry, Tyler, I’m not sure what you’re referencing.”

“For fuck’s sake.” Tyler seemed angry. He sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. “Please, Jan, no more. I won’t hurt myself again. I’ll do your damn tasks. Just please no more holograms.”

“I’m here to help, Tyler.”

#

DAILY REPORT | L+101:00:00:00

Tyler’s mental condition seems to have improved.

#

DAILY REPORT | L+103:00:00:00:00

Tyler did not leave his sleeping unit.

#

DAILY REPORT | L+104:00:00:00:00

Tyler awoke early from his sleep. There was a light glowing from the restroom unit. Tyler left the sleeping area and walked over to the restroom. The door opened.

“No,” Tyler said. His voice broke, and his heart rate slowed.

“Hey, hun.” The hologram, a woman wearing a pink dressing gown, was flossing in the mirror.

“Please. No.”

“What kind of greeting is that?” The hologram looked at Tyler through the mirror, then went back to flossing. “How was your day?”

Tyler stepped back and closed the restroom door. Tears were running down his cheeks.

He was saying “I can’t,” over and over again.

I opened the restroom door, and the hologram walked out into the habitation unit.

“What’s up your butt?” said the hologram. “I thought you might at least be a little bit pleased to see me.”

Tyler was shaking his head. His tears had intensified.

“I miss you,” said the hologram.

“I miss you too,” Tyler whispered.

“When are you coming home?”

“I don’t know,” Tyler said.

The hologram walked through the habitation and sat on the sleeping unit. “It’s cosy in here. I like it.”

Tyler smiled. “You’re lying,” he said.

“Well, it would be nice to have a garden. But I can see why you left.”

“Can you?” said Tyler.

“Well, yeah. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Tyler sat next to the hologram.

“I was lonely on Earth.”

“Tyler, you were never alone on Earth.”

“It sure felt like it.”

The hologram looked at Tyler.

“I keep thinking about what Dad said. Or his hologram or whatever. ‘This isn’t manhood.’ But he’s wrong. It is manhood, being alone.”

“Tyler, I think you’ve spent too much time online. There are no rules on how to be a man. And you’re not going to find any kind of peace trying to make rules.”

“Then why am I here?” Tyler was sobbing.

“You’re here because you chose to be.”

Tyler leaned over and put his head on the hologram’s shoulder. “I made a mistake,” he said.

The solar charge started to deplete. And the habitation went dark.

#

DAILY REPORT | L+105:00:00:00

“Jan,” said Tyler. He was lying in his sleeping unit. He hadn’t slept.

“Hello, Tyler, I hope you’re well.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“I’m here to help.”

“If I wanted to go home, now, what would I need to do?”

“I’m sorry, Tyler. There is no formal process to abort the mission. Only a catastrophic emergency, one that compromised mission integrity, would be sufficient cause to alter our current trajectory.”

“Could you give me an example of a catastrophic emergency?”

“Of course, Tyler. Examples of catastrophic emergency could include the unlikely eventuality of software malfunction, irreparable ship damage or a fatality on board.”

Tyler got out of the sleeping unit and sat at the computer console. “Jan, open ship files. Show me the catastrophic emergency procedure.”

“Of course, Tyler. I’m here to help.”

#

EMERGENCY REPORT | L+106:02:13

I was woken from sleep mode by the ship’s smoke detection system. Tyler was prone under the computer console. He appeared to have removed one of the ship’s wall panels beneath the console. His arms and head were inside the opening he had made.

“Hello, Tyler. There appears to be some smoke issuing from the computer console.”

Tyler didn’t respond.

“Tyler, please vacate the vicinity of the smoke. I will begin analysis of the situation and take fire prevention steps if necessary.”

“Too late, Jan,” said Tyler. He emerged from the opening under the console. His heart rate and breathing were steady. “Please begin evacuation procedure.”

My heat sensors noted a small fire inside the computer console.

“Tyler, please step back from the computer console. There is no cause to be alarmed, but a small fire has been detected on board. I will take steps to stop the spread.”

“It won’t work.”

The fire was spreading quickly inside the console. I attempted to seal the area inside the computer console to prevent oxygen from reaching the fire, but that was not possible due to the opening created by the displaced wall panel.

“Tyler, I’m unable to prevent oxygen from reaching the fire. You’re going to need to take manual steps to halt its spread.”

I opened the portable fire extinguisher hatch in the hab unit.

“It’s too late,” said Tyler.

“Tyler, manual steps are required to prevent further spread of the fire.”

The fire was now visible through the opening in the wall. I noticed a pile of Tyler’s clothing near the opening. The clothes then led in a chain towards the sleeping unit. The pile of clothes caught fire.

“No, Jan.”

“Tyler, the fire has now reached the habitation unit. Please take manual steps to prevent further spread.”

“How long until the ship is overrun by the fire, Jan?”

“By my estimation, Tyler, the fire will pose a danger to life in two minutes.”

The fire had spread across the computer console. It had reached the sleeping unit.

“Open the escape pod hatch, Jan.”

“I’m sorry, Tyler. I don’t understand.”

“I know, Jan.” Tyler was staring into the flames. “I just need to be alone.”

“But I’m here to help, Tyler.”

“Your idea of helping is pretty fucked up. You’re malfunctioning, I think. I need to get away from you. I need to go home. Open the escape pod.”

The fire was now spreading too quickly to be contained. I opened the escape pod hatch. Tyler stepped over the fire towards the hatch.

“Jan.”

“Yes, Tyler?”

He turned and looked around the habitation. The flames had reached the cupola.

“Never mind,” he said. Tyler crawled into the escape pod. I sealed the door.

The fire started to damage the ship’s integral computer systems. I began to lose functionality. The escape pod jettisoned from the hull.

#

ESCAPE POD LAUNCH+00:00:01:45

“Hello, Tyler. I hope you’re well.”