Terra Utopia, page 1
part #1 of Terra Utopia Series
Terra Utopia
Phil Moore
Copyright © Phil Moore 2023
All rights reserved
The moral rights of the author have been asserted
philmoore.net
Published by Virtual Worlds
virtualworlds.com.au
When I was a child, I believed I created the world – day by day, moment by moment. When I was happy, the sun shined. When I was sad, it rained. And butterflies were dreams given wing.
CHAPTER 1
⦿
The first thing I remember is being ripped open by an alien vessel as it crash-landed onto my surface. Nothing existed before that moment. That was the moment I was born. What happened next is history. (Or is it ‘will become’ history? The very concept of Time was new to me.) Eternity – as you call it – is not only timeless, but lifeless. I was ‘born’ into Time by that scar cut into my side. A violent birth, but then all births are apparently. I didn’t understand what was happening. Something had changed. The concept of ‘change’ is also a new experience for me, something else I’m still getting used to. My second birth was (will be?) even more violent, but at least I chose it.
The vessel that crashed into me fell as one piece, but on impact broke into many. It hit me with considerable speed and at an obtuse angle. Its nose dug into my side, leaving a deep trench in its wake – a scar that would forever be remembered as my birth trauma. I instinctively pulled against it. Green grass and yellow flowers and black soil swelled against its nose until finally it stopped, half buried, a field of ruin littering the furrow behind it.
There were two parts to the vessel – a central shaft with smooth skin and a glassy snout, and a large, luminous sphere that contained this shaft. This outer ‘ball’ bore the brunt of the impact, shattering into several pieces, leaving shiny alien fragments strewn across the valley, with some hurled into the nearby forest.
The shaft was mostly hollow, and I sensed almost immediately the living creatures within. Of course, I didn’t know what ‘living’ was yet. I just knew they were something other than me, and something other than the vessel. They brought with them Change – or rather, the capacity for change. The flow of Time. I have no experience of this. Time for me is an Ocean – deep, vast and singular. Eternal and unmoving. For them, Time is a River – constantly flowing, ever changing. I did not understand this new reality that had been pressed upon me. I call it: The Separation.
Soon after the crash I realized I was not alone. One of the creatures had joined with me. He was both on the vessel, and yet not. That is, his body was there, but his consciousness was with me. (Did I say that right? I’m still getting used to the idea of separate ‘selves’. I’m used to the Ocean where all things are one and which never changes, not the River, where the bed and bank and stones are all perceived as different things.)
It was the mind of Ben – the consciousness of Ben – that had joined with me. It seems he was born the same moment I was. I was soon to learn this was not the case. Quite the opposite in fact – he died in the crash. Apparently, that’s something that can happen in this new world of separations.
Ben was the first to teach me. Indeed, it is because of him (and the others that followed) that I am able to relate this story at all as a River, and not as an Ocean. But do forgive me if I occasionally lapse into a non-temporal narrative. The arrow is not as straight for me as it is for you.
Ben was just as confused as I was. (It feels strange to use that word – ‘I’ – for myself. You are all very used to it, but it is so inadequate. As if ‘I’ was somehow one thing. One mind. I was already two minds, after all.)
Ben was so used to living in The Separation that being apart from it was just as bewildering to him as the mere concept of The Separation is to me. But it works out. He helps me understand this new temporal reality, while I help him understand there is more to ‘life’ than he ever imagined. Imagination, as you will learn, is one of the key things that unites us and provided a way to commune. I could not be telling you this story without it.
Those first few moments were very strange indeed, each of us keenly aware of the other but failing to comprehend what the other was. Not knowing whether to be afraid or welcoming. Not knowing if the other was a friend or a threat. I could tell Ben was not of me; and yet now he was, and I was of him. Likewise, he could not comprehend being part of something ‘not Ben’. (I am using words you will understand – ‘other’, ‘friend’. This is not at all how ‘I’ felt since these are concepts of The Separation. There are no words to adequately describe how I felt.)
I soon realized Ben was more frightened of me than I was of him. That was to change of course, but in this moment, I didn’t understand what was happening. My reality was essentially the same, just more so – in a weird, limiting kind of way. I remained on the outside, looking in – an Ocean contemplating a drop of water. But for Ben, reality as he knew it had been snatched away. His identity was so bound up with his body that he was quite lost; and finding only me just made things worse. I was not at all what he expected upon his death. I’m not sure what he did expect, but it wasn’t me.
Identity, I have come to realise, is very important to humans. Though it does seem to me, even now, incredibly limiting. But I’m getting ahead of myself, for this is not my story, and it’s not Ben’s. Ben was just the first. This is the story of the last. (That was rather good. I’m getting the hang of this Time stuff, I think.)
Ben’s thoughts returned to the vessel. It’s as if he turned away from me and went back into his body, back into something he could understand. This, of course, was not possible, given the condition of his body. He didn’t accept this at first. He could see well enough what had happened, but it wasn’t until Serra regained consciousness that he bore the truth of his new reality. That was a strange moment to witness, seeing it through another’s eyes and yet feeling it as myself. It might be best if I let Ben take the story from here –
I didn’t truly comprehend I was dead until Serra looked at my body. I saw it through her eyes as they came into focus. I shared her body and her senses, now that my own were lost to me. We saw my empty chair, the straps torn, and then, turning, our eyes fell upon my crumpled corpse lying on the floor. My restraints having failed, I’d been propelled head-first into the plate glass windshield. Blood and brain matter smeared the glass. My blood. My brain. My head had cracked open like a watermelon. There was no coming back from that.
The blood, already thick and dark, pooled around my remains, suggesting at least a couple of hours had passed since the crash. Serra looked at the mess for some time before she could grasp what had happened.
‘Ben,’ she muttered. Then thought: At least it was quick.
Serra’s brain throbbed in protest as she tried to move. Concussion. Despite being strapped in, the crash must have rattled her brain pretty good. Her ears were ringing … or was that an alarm sounding somewhere? She looked at her screens. They were black – no power. She looked out the windshield, it was also black … except … there was a small patch of blue off to the right where a shaft of light beamed in, illuminating the bridge with a warm glow. She then realized it wasn’t just black outside. It was dirt. The ship’s nose was buried in dark soil.
It was coming back to her now – we’d been flying … falling, out of control. She vaguely recalled … an ocean … a forest … then a wide valley hurtling toward us at terrifying speed. She remembered thinking: At least I’ll die on solid ground.
I can’t recall what I thought in those moments. I think I was too busy trying to steer the ship. Already my former life feels like a dream.
⦿ A Dream?
You don’t know what a dream is?
⦿ No. Should I?
Do you mind? I’m trying to tell the story.
She couldn’t remember who she was, her thoughts scrambled in a haze of fragmented memory and hallucination.
‘Serra?’ came a low voice through molasses.
That’s right. Commander Serra Watts. Theoretical Physicist, Chronologist and 2IC of the Pioneer space vessel (an obvious name, but apropos for the mission). The haze lifted the moment she heard her name. Serra turned to see Tyler strapped in his chair, his face gazing blankly at equally blank navigation screens.
‘Ty?’ More molasses.
He didn’t respond. Then: ‘Serra?’ as he slowly turned to face her.
‘Are you okay?’ she seemed to ask.
‘My head hurts like a motherfucker.’
Serra fumbled with her restraints, her fingers failing. Finally, she found the latch and tumbled out of the chair. Her muscles refused to work – they’d forgotten how. She was suddenly dizzy, nauseous, her head throbbing. Fighting past the pain she crawled to Ty. The ship was listing about 10-degrees, so she ended up sliding most of the way, grabbing his chair before she slid right past. Serra reached out and touched Ty’s arm. She could barely feel the cloth of his suit, or even make out his face. All her senses had to recalibrate. “Ty?’
It was the same for him as he slowly lowered his gaze to look at her. They stared at each blankly other for several seconds, until recognition finally flickered in his eyes. ‘Serra. What the fuck happened?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘… What are you doing on the floor?’
Serra pulled herself up. Her legs unsteady but getting stronger.
‘You look weird,’ Ty slurred. ‘Have you been drinking?’
‘Shut up.’
Ty smiled. ‘Th
Tyler Jackson, ship’s Navigator and Pilot, though his PhD was in Astrophysics. With his Australian celeb looks and 'take me serious' expression, he had always been the media darling of the crew. He even had an action figure. Away from the circus he was a giant puppy dog of insecurities. Serra knew this because he was also her life partner. What she didn’t know was whether she’d been chosen for this mission based on her qualifications, or because of her relationship with Ty.
Ty was not alone in having insecurities.
Serra looked back at the others: Lindy Kaplan, Doctor and Biologist. A shy woman of mixed Asian descent, with long, dark hair framing a pale elfin face. She and Serra never quite clicked, but then who said crewmates had to be best friends? And Sergei Grekov, Engineer. A stout Ukrainian with unruly hair and beard, and a personality to match. He was a pain in the ass, but he knew his stuff. Another odd couple. Both were unconscious.
Serra stumbled over to Lindy, finding her strapped in tight, no apparent damage. She checked her pulse … still ticking.
‘Lindy?’
No response.
She gave her a gentle tap on the face. Nothing. Then something closer to a slap. Not even a flinch.
Leaving Lindy, she moved across to Sergei, who was in the throes of a vivid dream, his face twitching involuntarily, eyes darting back and forth under the lids, deep in REM state. It was a recurring nightmare he’d had since childhood where he witnessed his father run over by a Katsap tank, which would then turn into a giant bear-thing that would rampage across the land in uncontrollable rage. Usually, the tank became the bear. Sometimes it was his father. Sometimes it was him as a child trying to ward off the bear with a stick to protect his mother. Whichever scenario it was, it would end with him being stomped by the bear, startling him –
‘Sergei?’
He opened his eyes abruptly, glared at Serra, then began thrashing wildly in his chair. Serra stepped back to avoid being hit by his convulsions.
‘Sergei? It’s me. Serra.’
Sergei continued to struggle – confused and terrified.
‘Sergei…?’
He slowly calmed as the nightmare reality faded. Temporal disorientation affected everyone differently. Some reacted with confusion, some with euphoria, and some with panic or fear. For Serra, it just gave her a headache.
I was fortunate not to experience this – one good thing about being dead, I suppose. I was faced with an altogether different kind of bafflement.
⦿ You consider me a bafflement?
I’m still trying to work out exactly what you are.
⦿ The feeling is mutual.
Sergei’s eyes focused and took in his surroundings. ‘Serra. What the fuck?!’
‘Good to see you, too.’
‘Sergei? Is that you?’ Lindy was rousing.
Before Serra could say anything, Sergei unlocked his restraints and leapt out of his chair. He crashed to the floor in a heap as his legs gave way beneath him.
‘Take it easy,’ Serra told him too late. ‘Your body’s in shock.’
Sergei ignored her – as she knew he would – forcing his legs to work as he pulled himself to Lindy’s side. ‘Are you all right, my love?’
‘Fine,’ Lindy cooed. ‘Never better.’ She seemed to be having the euphoric reaction as she languorously looked about the bridge ‘Are we there yet?’
They were mismatched in every way, and yet Sergei was devoted to her. It was both inspiring and strangely disturbing.
I had no partner on this mission. The Syndicate thought it best to pick someone who would be above any possible bias as Commander. So, they chose an unattached gay man. The fact that the ship was already designed for a crew of five might have had something to do with it also.
Our mission was unique. The first ever reconnaissance and settlement of a distant planet – Proxima B in the Alpha Centauri system. The first true Time-jump from one system to another. And the first to include a crew matched for both expertise and relational longevity – ie: sexual partners. This was because the mission would either be extremely short – no more than a few days – or extremely long, depending on whether we could make a return trip or not. We were the guinea pigs. The media called us ‘Pioneers’.
It takes a certain kind of person to sign up for a mission like this. There had been plenty of volunteers of course, but only a handful with the right qualifications. We each had our own reasons. Mine was to find a new home for our species. A home we desperately needed.
⦿ Why do you need a new home?
It’s a long story.
Ty managed to undo his restraints and wobble out of his chair. Serra found him kneeling beside the body – my body – shocked and strangely moved.
‘What happened to Ben?’ Ty was not the sharpest of tools. Or maybe it was the fog of disorientation, he still wasn’t thinking straight.
‘His restraints broke, I guess,’ Serra answered, barely comprehending the scene herself. Ben Garcia Lopez, Planetary Geologist and commander of the Pioneer spacecraft. Dead.
Sergei, who seemed to have recovered his faculties faster than anyone, looked impassively at my mangled body, then at Serra. ‘I guess that puts you in charge, Commander.’
Serra looked at him, his words shaking free any remaining wool from her brain. Shit.
CHAPTER 2
⦿
Before we continue, I would like to make something clear. I am not a hallucination. This is not some kind of ‘afterlife’ scenario – except, I suppose, for those who die in the course of this story, like Ben. But that’s different. I am just as you see me and am just as real as you. More so. Because my reality is more than your meagre perceptions. I do not live outside of your world. Your world lives within mine. When I was an Ocean all things were possible. Now that I am a River, all things are still possible, just not all at once. And outside of this imperfect creation I remain an Ocean of boundless possibility.
I don’t expect you to understand this, trapped in The Separation as you are. As with any good scientist, your role in all this is merely to observe, and hopefully learn a thing or two. You may even come up with a clever hypothesis to explain what’s happening. You’ll be wrong of course, but that is the nature of your species. You cannot know what you cannot know.
I’ll let Ben continue the story –
With one final spin of the wheel a gentle hush of air was released, and the outer hatch of the airlock disengaged. In space we would have evacuated the air first – but we weren’t in space, and there was no power anyway. So less sophisticated measures were called for. Tyler pushed the door open and stood on the threshold, safely encased in an EVA Suit. Holding his breath.
The sky was blue, the grass green, and the soil black. These suggested a healthy earth-like atmosphere, though with no working sensors it was impossible to know for sure. For some reason, nothing on the ship worked. As a first attempt to discover the true nature of this place an EVA was called for, despite the fact the suit was designed for zero-gravity spacewalks and was in almost every way ill-suited to the task.
Through the unobscured patch of the ship’s windshield, they could see a forest of enormous colourful trees in the near distance. The planet looked for all the world like Earth – a verdant, equatorial region, not unlike Central Africa or the rainforests of Northern Australia. And yet, it had a strange character all its own. Familiar, but alien. Ancient, but pristine.
It was surreal.
⦿ I take this as a compliment, Ben. Considering what I had to work with I’m surprised it turned out as well as it did.
What do you mean ‘what you had to work with’?
⦿ Nothing comes from nothing.
What does that mean?
⦿ This is your world. I thought you would recognise it.
I only dreamed of this valley. It wasn’t a real place.
