Distant Frontiers - chapter 4

john doe

He entered a bar empty of guests. The classic scene he had often seen in the motion pictures of old: a lonesome man finds himself alone in a bar with the owner trying to wipe the last invisible smudge off a speckless glass. He liked that. He liked imagining himself as a renegade, someone living on the fringes of society, a man who makes his own way in the wilderness, self-dependant and self-centred, strong and endurable, intelligent enough to outwit shady merchants and, on occasions, a loyal visitor of social establishments.

But something was amiss, something was lacking in this poster image of a bar, and it was noticeable immediately, there was no dust. If there was something missing inside space docks, behemoth motherships, standards cruisers, or little shuttles, it was dust. There was not even a pinch of the fine type that could always be found on a terrestrial surface under furniture seldomly moved, inside gear lockers seldomly opened, or anywhere else where cleaning drones or human hands seldomly reached.

But the fact that there was no dust did not bother him at all. He expected no less from a space bar, imagined or not. He was a regular.

“So, you have finally docked here again?” John Doe asked the newcomer and kept on polishing a glass.

“We surely did and not a moment too early,” the guest said and moved to the counter, taking his regular place on his regular bar stool.

“How is life out there in the void?” John gestured in a general direction. “Anything new? It has been more than a month since your last visit.”

“No, nothing new. Today as yesterday, tomorrow as today, you know,” he replied. His fingers lightly brushed the cold metal counter in expectation, he knew what he had come for and why here. This was no ordinary bar, but a bar where you could get what was otherwise hard to come by. Not strictly illegal but without any seal of approval. Something special to calm your nerves, to encolour your everyday bleakness, to spur wild imaginations. Something to meet everyone’s needs.

But how odd, he often thought, this need for secrecy. So far away from the grasp of the government, and still we must play this game of hushed words, secret signals, telling looks. Perhaps an ancient custom, now long forgotten, from the time when any human could only gaze deep into the night sky and imagine how it would be to travel there, when life was confined to the surface of the Earth which made monitoring an individual or a group a simple task, and the only solace was in dreaming of the day when escaping the Earth would become a real possibility.

But here, there was no need for an unwritten covenant between the guest and the proprietor. It was possible that someone could notify government agencies that there was something illicit going on in John’s bar. But before the message could reach its recipient and agencies could send someone to investigate – not that they would bother to in the first place – the guest would be dead, the proprietor missing, the bar recycled. The physical constraints of space travel were too demanding, and centralized governing of the void was too unfeasible. The vastness of emptiness, the space, the freedom to roam distant frontiers unopposed, frontiers imagined or frontiers real. This appeal had brought many far away from the Earth.

But still, why this secrecy, he kept pondering. Each frontier company has its own policies, its own rules. My does not prohibit frequenting bars like this or consuming products it offers and, if gossips are correct, nor do any other companies. Perhaps it is only for the atmosphere so we, the minority that has chosen to travel beyond the borders of human civilization into unexplored frontiers, could feel better about ourselves, could feel homely in the environment that mirrors our rebel nature.

Not being able to find a better answer, he shrugged lightly. Nothing more to do about that.

He was waiting for John to pour his regular drink. No one needed to say a word. The guest knows the proprietor, and the proprietor the guest. John deliberately took his time. A merchant of booze, a merchant of news. The secret ones. Some brews had a pinch of secret essence, some news had a whisp of secret information. The former served the latter regardless of its nature. Sell some liquor, sell some rumours. No need to rush, everything at its time, and the more he kept him waiting, better the chances for fresh news, information hidden away from everyone, data that sells better than his adulterated drinks.

“I cannot believe you have not done anything exiting during all those weeks. Have you not met anyone new? Or perhaps encounter a real alien or a space monster,” John grinned at him. He put a clay mug on the counter and poured his regular drink, a casual one, the one that only made people talk in full length about events everyone had already heard of, about news everyone already knew.

“No, no aliens, no monster.” He sipped from the mug. Today it tastes like it did yesterday and hopefully tomorrow it will taste like today, he thought. This may well be the pinnacle of enjoyment in the dark bleakness of the universe, after having attained just a pocketful of freedom, of independence, away from the shackles of old. “You can believe me or not, but I really do not have anything to say. I just do my job, spend time with co-workers and their friends, shut myself in the land of dreams. And finally, come to John Doe’s for the enjoyment society cannot provide.”

John nodded. The customer is always right. No monster, no aliens? Fine, fine. You will talk soon enough.

“How long are you staying this time?”

“That is really hard to say. I am not sure.” He took another sip. “My team has finished exploring two frontier sectors, so we are done. But do not ask me about miners, sellers, or anyone else. It feels like we will stay docked for some time or at least be in vicinity. I hope.”

No one said a word. John kept polishing clean glasses, and his guest was taking a sip after a sip until he drank it all. Then he pushed the mug slightly towards John, and he refilled it with the same liquid.

“What I did hear was some company losing a spacecraft. They say a sabotage.”

“Your work?” John asked.

He shrugged. “Could be. Or the government’s. A spacecraft gets lost, the distress signal is received hours after the incident, no one knows what exactly happened. And if someone did sabotage it, by the time the signal gets to the mothership, they have already disappeared into the void. And any rescue is pointless. Everyone is on their own there.”

“Recent?”

“I do not think so. I heard that last week, in the sector C200903F or something like that.”

“So far away. They say that bad news travels fast, but not in deep space, right?” John said with a wink. The guest simply raised the mug in agreement.

As John had expected, there were some news. Everyone entering brought something new, and then it was only a matter of time before they share it, consciously or not. Sometimes guests spilled out something important, other times they only bored him with baseless rumours.

There must be more, something else inside your head, John thought. “A frontierer from another company said a few weeks ago that they had been exploring a sector further away. She said they have plans to go beyond the belt.”

He gestured with his hand. “No comment.”

“Oh, come on,” John said with light cheerfulness. “Nothing at all?”

“I cannot say anything because I do not know anything. And that is the truth.”

John’s augmented ears picked up a slight change in his tone. There, there, I will get that out of you, whatever you are hiding. Few more gulps, few more drinks. Set up a trap, let him walk right into it.

“Not even a rumour?”

“Not this time, John. I do not have a reason to lie. You have been good to me.”

Yes, I have been good to you and you to me, John agreed. Every secret had a buyer, and all John had to do was wait for the right opportunity to find the right costumer, from the government or frontier side. Everyone scheming and plotting, everyone trying to get some advantage. Everyone will sooner or later come to John Doe’s, or Jane Doe’s in some other corner of the Inner Solar System. And everyone was aware of that. Perhaps that was the reason he was prosperous for a bar owner and, more importantly, still alive. No one benefited from killing a booze seller, a news seller.

And right now, he was just waiting for the right moment. When the guest would be ready for the brew. But before that, stir him a little more. Trace that tone in his voice. He will lead you to its source by himself. Just a little more.

“Have you ever desired to go beyond the belt?”

“Desired? Everyone wants that,” he said with a scorn and then made a long pause.

“Is it too boring being here? Is that the reason for leaving?”

The guest flinched and finished the drink in one gulp.

“It is dull. The void is bleak. No colours, no scent, no warmth,” he finally said.

“But will it not be the same when you are on the other side?”

“Who knows. First, someone must be willing to build a colony there, or at least a permanent station or an outpost and it is a pity no one has done it yet. That could give some life to the dreadful void.”

“I am sure it will be done soon,” John said.

“To your words,” said the guest and raised now emptied clay mug. “But it is not boredom. It is the desire to explore, at least for me, to go beyond. And the thing more dreadful than this shapeless void is confinement, physical or mental. So, we have three options, stay on the Earth or its colonies, die, or explore frontiers, and the latter option significantly outweighs the former two.”

Your mouth must be dry now. Just a little closer, and then I will hear what you have to say about travelling to the belt. I know that there is something in your mind, something that you are not willing to share with me. But your will to keep it a secret is going to diminish soon enough. You are nearly there. Give him the regular dose, spin cogs in his brain, let his imagination awake from a bleak dreary slumber. Yes, yes, drink, drink more. John filled the mug to the rim.

“I have heard your company made some sort of discovery,” John winked at him.

“Nothing too important.” He tried to sound casual, implying nothing, denying nothing.

“You will not fool me this time,” he teased him. “I have heard the word, everyone is saying it. It is something big, is it not? You will make huge this time. You will all leave this place, leave John Doe’s. Ahh, what will become of me …”

Even though John had really heard those rumours, he could not simply believe every intoxicated guest. He had to confirm them from other sources, which increased or decreased the value of a rumour. Other times he just had to pretend he had heard something. If he missed, no harm done. If he hit, even better. Right now, he was probing how close to the essence of the hidden information he was, which tools he would need to uncover it, was it real or not. On top of that, there was a slight chance that rumours of venturing past the belt and this new discovery were somehow related. Two hits with one strike! What a lucky day.

“There, there John. You know how it goes. I do not make decisions. We do not.” He pondered for a moment, his fingers steady on the clay mug, clenching it. “You were always my favourite, you know that. But even so, I should not tell you much. Yes, it is big, and yes, if we succeed, we will be gone. Hopefully. Finally.” He grimaced and emptied the content, his fingers still resting on the mug. “At least that is what I deduced from rumours I have heard, and I really do not know more than that,” he added. “But there is still a chance these rumours are just void. And if so, no one is leaving, and you can sleep in peace,” he grinned at John.

John poured again and inconspicuously sprinkled a pinch of powder over the drink. The guest gulped again. Just a starter to give you appetite for more, to make your mind flow freely and unhindered by barriers you have raised to protect your secrets. All will fall by the time you ingest the main course. And if you prove yourself valuable, a dessert after that.

“I have heard it from a member of the scavenging crew. They were working on a wreckage we came across. The unusual thing is the security chief got involved. I do not know why, but it must have been something important, or she would not have gone with them.”

No tremble, no twitch, no jerk, no sign of spilled secret, but John knew the game was not over yet. Just be patient, he told himself. I will get you. I will get your secrets. You will be telling me everything without even realizing it.

“But if we manage to get to the other side of the belt, I hope someday another John just like you will establish a bar there,” the guest said. Then he paused for a moment and continued, “You are what every guest desires, and I know others are coming here for precisely that reason. It will be hard leaving you behind, but it must be done if stars align.”

“Do not worry. There is always another John Doe somewhere, right. I am nothing special. Just another Joe occupying these empty spaces.”

“I guess you are right. I am just saying that I am not ungrateful for what you have done for me, for us. This would indeed be a lousy place if you were not here. And who knows how long it will take for establishments like this to pop up on the other side.” He winked at John and pointed to the mug. It was empty again.

John nodded. Yes, keep on going like this. Almost there. Now your mind will take off. You will not know what is real and what is imagined. “But …,” He stopped for a moment to get his attention. “What if you fail? Is it likely?”

The man shrugged. “Oh, I can imagine it is highly likely. To be successful we take chances, but we may also fail. It is something we are all too familiar with. One guy too drunk, one screw too loose. And all those coders, they never get it perfect. Something goes wrong, always, when you are out there exploring frontiers. A half-finished code closing oxygen extractor. Some guys got hypoxia, poor bastards. And some other time food printer broke down, printing only fat and we had to survive on that until they sent us the updated code. Coders, I tell you. Half of their codes are not clean either. Probably from some forgotten corner of dark infofield, who knows.”

John kept nodding. Sentiments, anger, powerlessness. He will talk. He filled half of his mug without hesitation.

The man stared for while at the mug but did not say anything. “Why do you use clay mugs anyway? I have never seen you pouring me a drink in those glasses you are always polishing.” he wondered. “You must have some good reason?”

“There is no catch,” John grinned. “I like them. I like clay, porcelain, earthenware and alike. But every expert in liquors will tell you that every drink has a specific cup. Not only the shape, but the material as well. And the best one for your drink is a clay mug.”

The man grinned back. “Earth! Dung.”

John gave him a nod. Some want to leave the planet, he thought. And those that have left it want to go even further away. At the distance, it really looks beautiful. Blue iris, black sclera. A classic. But as the distance gets bigger, its charm fades away, its importance diminishes in the void. It becomes a dot, at a glance just like any other.

“Well, since you are going where no one has gone before … this one is on the house. A special brew.” John brought another container from below the counter and poured its content in a goblet. No powder was needed this time.

In silence, the guest took a closer look at what he was about to taste.

A transparent cup filled with equally transparent liquid. No scent. He made a sip. What a strange drink, he thought puzzled. Not only is it colourless and scentless, but also tasteless, but it is not water, clearly too strong.

He was about to look at John and comment on its plainness, but then his eyes caught a purple spark inside the goblet. As it grew branching in all directions, he picked up a sweet scent, so familiar it reminded him of something from his youth. When he inhaled deeply, a unique unrecognizable taste spread in his mouth. And then, he suddenly heard strange voices, sounding human but could not distinguish anything they were saying. He felt they were urging him to go after something invisible in front of him. His senses overcame with new experiences, he felt as if he was being invited on an exploration towards distant lands, never before reached places, distant frontiers. It was all too real, John and the whole bar intermingled with these new sensations.

Now he will talk. This will make his tongue loose. He will not feel the need to hold anything back, hide anything. Without a doubt. John did not see any colours, smell any scent, or hear any voices. But he was convinced they were all real enough for his guest.

The man took few more sips. The purple spark started to branch outside of the goblet, its colour changing randomly across the spectrum, shifting between light and dark tones, scent became thicker, coming in waves, slightly sweet, warm taste, and voices now clearly calling to him venture forward, venture forward.

Then the man said, “You might be right, actually. The mission may fail. I have not heard anyone being utterly sure of success. There is a rumour even the risk assessment team could not give the exact answer what the chances are. No one wants to speak about it openly, so it is a sort of a secret. And more I asked around, less sure I am about it. Some talk about it as if the mission is a reality and we will take off tomorrow. Others assured me it is only an idea. And then there were others who were utterly baffled by my questions. These rumours, so hard to determine which one is correct.”

John showed his back to the guest for a moment and winced. I will need another source. This guy can only offer hearsay. He honestly believes in venturing beyond the belt and now he cannot distinguish between the idea, the imagination of travelling there, and the real plan. Ahh, well, sometimes I take loses. But it seems he is onto something. I will just have to keep the show going on and be a part of it until he passes out or wakes up from the spell.

“The word is we will hitch an asteroid or something like that and take a ride deep into the belt for the riches.”

“Hitch?” John asked.

“Yes, like in those old motion pictures taken on the Earth. When a bug lands on a vehicle and gets a ride.”

John nodded but kept silent and went back to polishing glasses. Perhaps I have overdone it. The dose must have been too potent. It cannot be true everything he is saying. But which part is imagined and which one real?

As the spark got bigger branching throughout the bar, so did its colours become more vibrant, displacing blackness of the void. With every sip they radiated like a sun, like a sun the scent filled his inside with warmth, no more cold nothingness of the void, voices erupting into a merry cheer of a newly sighted landmark on the horizon. The familiar taste of success.

“I think I have heard whisperings saying all those things. And if I remember correctly, someone has said that it is not an asteroid but a device of some sort which you plug onto your engines and increases propulsion. But what do I know. When I asked around no one wanted to give me exact answer. It felt like they were pretending they have never heard of it, like they do not know what I am talking about. As if I was just imagining things. But it is probably just a big secret, and they cannot spill it.”

“Will your spacecraft not get torn apart by increased forces?”

The man shrugged. “I think I have met an engineer that told me that we will use magnetic field to decrease speed and then flip it on to latch on some rock floating nearby. To be frank, I am not sure if I should believe him. What I am certain of is that when we get there …”

Someone entered the bar.

Oh no, not now, John thought. He still has more to say. But the spell was broken. In an instant, the colours started disappearing, the spark’s pulse got weaker and weaker, and the bar was once again filled with darkness, cosy warmth of scent left his body, the goblet was empty of taste, and the voices lost in the silence of the void. John saw the change on the man’s face in great clarity, like so many times, as watching someone who had just woken from dreams. I hope I will find someone that will confirm these fantasies. Until then, into a jar and on the shelf with them. It is done then, nothing more to do about it. Nothing lost and nothing gained, only time spent.

John turned his attention to the newcomer and examined the person from head to toes. Still noticeably bright white but worn-out long space coat and overalls suggested it was just another employee of a frontier company. Strange black marks on the neck mostly hidden beneath fabric. Other than that, nothing unusual, nothing strange. Perhaps in the need of liquor, perhaps just to spend some time. No time to waste, another opportunity for me, he rejoiced.

“Where was I …” said the man still holding the goblet now empty. “Oh yeah, why are you not using glass instead of clay. Are you nostalgic about the Earth, or is it just a style?” When he saw what was in his hands, he became startled and confused. All John could do was show a bitter smile. He motioned to the new guest sitting few paces to the right of the man, and the man gave him a quick nod of approval, still wondering why he was holding the goblet.

John moved straight in front of the person and asked, “Want something?”

“No,” she said, lifting her left arm and stretching it perpendicularly in the direction of the sitting man, the index finger pointing at him. “I’ve only come to meet someone.”

At that moment, all John felt was a sudden burst of heat. And then fear. Absolute fear making his brain go numb, his hand flailing lifelessly at the side of his body, the jaw wide open, stuck in half breath.

Then she left. The man’s head dropped on the counter as if he was sitting asleep or passed out from drinking too much. He had not had a chance to say a word.

John got his senses back. No, oh no, oh no no, not here, was his first thought. John had never met an extractor. Yes, he had heard rumours, factual and made up. Some of his patrons had been telling him of their first-hand experiences and boasted about their victories and survival. But John knew. He knew that no one survives facing an extractor from a few paces away, much less duelling with one.

He poured himself a strong drink, unadulterated. As blood started flowing through his fingers again, they began to tremble. This is bad, this is so bad, he thought. He forced himself to look at the man as if the corpse bore a stigma, a curse of an extractor that branded you forever just by being near it. But there was no stigma, no curse. Just a neat small hole in the man’s head, no blood, no brain matter anywhere, all probably coagulated from the pressure and the heat from the projectile.

He was marked. Another dot on the government’s map, indicating a completed mission. Another dot on the frontierers’ map, indicating where not to venture. Hide? As if. Here was a frontier. Endless space of nothingness. But he was not a frontierer. He was a man of liquor, adulterated and unadulterated. And of rumours, yes. Sell some liquor, sell some rumours. Yes, that is it, an idea suddenly exploded in his head. No one will know if they do not find the corpse. If they do not know an extractor was here, all will be fine. All I must do is clean the whole bar of any residual information, get rid of the corpse and come up with a convincing story about him. I can keep my secrets, and I am certain extractors do as well. Perhaps, perhaps I should go into a closer relationship with the government, he realized shaking. Oh, the new possibilities, oh, the new frontiers.