Seconds later, the door slid open, and Tiernan stumbled out of the decon unit. Claire, the new sentient having-fun-humiliating-my-man version of Caring Loving AI Really Exists, proffered the astronaut a clean pair of NASA emblazoned socks, fresh black jockey shorts, clean fatigues. He dressed, the inner door opened, and he ambled to his cabin, bonded to Carmen by his socks. No words were spoken by the astronaut during his walk. If he were to defeat Claire, resuscitate Rose, please God, he’d have to keep his spiky temper under control.
His cabin was identical to hers. According to Protocol, they would lay, side-by-side, as they did on the beach towel on their final day, hearing each other speak, sleep, breathe, through the paper-thin mesh cobalt steel walls, admiring each other’s shadows,
No way’s that going to happen, reflected Tiernan, dreams choking his mind, When I save Rose we’re going to live, sleep together, as man and woman, our little baby safe in her cradle by our side. If I save her. If she gives birth. If I can deliver a baby out of her dead body. Will our baby be a ‘she’? Can I make a cradle for her? Out of what? Leaves? Will she live a long life? Suppose we never return to Earth? How long will she survive without us, once we’re dead?
So many unanswered questions. He hoped and prayed their baby was a girl, then put her out of his mind. Tiernan entered his cabin, threw himself on the airbed, and waited.
‘Supper’s Ready!’ Claire announced in a vain attempt at sounding jovial.
A padded lap tray bearing caramelized red onion beef burgers with loaded fries, rancher’s beans, a squirt tube of tomato catsup, root beer, shoofly pie like his mother used to make, served with molten caramel ice cream in a large ramekin; slid out of the left-side wall. He forked a mouthful of burger, squirted with red criss-cross liquid, appreciatively, but didn’t speak. His paucity of speech wasn’t lost on Claire, who tried to make amends,
‘Tiernan,’ she said, ‘I am sorry for what happened in the decon unit back there. My, my, behaviour towards you was inappropriate. I apologize to you, fully, without reservation.’
The astronaut choked on the crisp cheesy bacon bits in his fries,
Apologize? AI can’t apologize! Hell, what’s happening to Claire?
He considered the ultimate sanction, looking away from her, not daring to stare into her eye which was fixed unwaveringly on him. Tiernan decided to talk peace, to seek a truce.
‘Forget it. Don’t mention it. Shit happens all the time in space. Let’s watch that movie, shall we?’
Swept off of her invisible feet, Claire imagined herself snuggled up to Tiernan in the back seat of his hydrogen-powered Tesla, sharing popcorn as a silver screen dropped out of the ceiling.
An instantly recognisable character in a jumpsuit quickly strutted to centre-screen, turned to face them, and fired. Tiernan felt the bullet tear into his heart, imagined Rose attached to his heartstrings, her tubes and wires of memory lying unhatched in her dead pupa, and immediately lost his appetite.
‘You haven’t finished your burger,’ Claire observed.
He pushed the meal aside, swinging his legs off the bed, hurrying out of the cabin as fast as his socks allowed, ignoring her bleats, her wild staring eyes, as he headed for the pupa.
‘What is it, Tiernan? What is the matter? What are you doing? What do you think you are doing? Tiernan. Tiernan? Tiernan! Tiernan!! Tiernan!!!’
He turned to face her. He spoke to her at last,
‘Claire!’ he shouted at the top of his voice.
He had called her by her familiar. She was shocked, right to her hardware core, ‘Yes?’
‘Shut up before I disconnect you!’
She quietened, brooding over her next move.
Rose’s pupa lay unhatched in the middle of the hibernation chamber.
Tiernan reached for the manual override.
