Generation Echo

By Tom Power

Calvin Echo never knew his parents. Androids raised him and the hundreds of others like him. Their mission is to colonize the alien planet they were sent to as frozen embryos. With no word from Earth, they represent what very well may be the last ember of humanity. Calvin has been ruthlessly trained for the rigors of the world that exists outside the Hab. It is the only home he has ever known. Teenage factions, divided by their birth groups, vie for superiority. There used to be order, but that was before their android teachers began to glitch. Calvin's world is an ever changing landscape and one where the stakes become more severe with each passing day.  

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tom Power
• Release date: Jun 18, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227631084

Book preview

Chapter 1

Blood, metallic and salty, stains my tongue. Adrenaline courses through my veins, making my stomach bind in on itself. The whole of my face burns from where he smacked me.

I'm glad for the darkness. It hides the tears welling in my eyes. I try blinking them away, but a few escape. Tears I can keep quiet, I've done that before, but blood fills my nasal passages. Another tear slips out. A tickle and twitch are all it takes for the blood to crash over the crown of my upper lip. With an ugly snort I try to stop it, but the dam bursts open.

Quiet, freak! Gregory hisses from the next bunk. In his hand is the pillow he just hit me with. He readies another strike. I raise my hands to protect myself, but he holds back. 

The commotion has woken the others around us and alert eyes peer out of their bunks. Thrilling at the audience, Gregory yelps in jest to mimic the cries I must have been making in my sleep. The nightmare, I remember it now, I was in it again. Others join in with Gregory. I listen while a knot of embarrassment tangles my insides. Another knot, something other than embarrassment tightens in my chest too, but I keep quiet. They exhaust themselves and after a while, eyes close, bodies roll over and they return to sleep.

The darkness and silence settle heavily around me. It's always the same, my dream that is. I shouldn't call it a dream because it's not, not really. It's more a memory. That's what interests Dr. Alistair so much. Some silly dream would mean nothing to her. She says it's unique to remember being born.

It starts with me floating in warmth as soft shadows move at the edge of my reach and beyond a kind of membrane. A blade slices in, and the gelatinous fluid around me sloughs to the ground in clumps. Wailing, coughing, and hacking in a rising panic as the chill from the dry, frigid air stings my skin and coats my lungs.

Long robotic grippers came for me then. They pressed into my flesh and lifted me free of the pod-like bubble. The robotic arm held me high, rotating me slowly to check my dripping, crying body for deformities. All of its little moving parts whirred, and its gears spun as it maneuvered me to a waiting bassinet. I grabbed at its arm and fingers as it tried to leave me. They're not called 'fingers' of course. They're called end-effectors, but I didn't learn that until later.

I scream for it to stay with me, to not leave me lying against the cold metal of the bassinet. It’s like ice against my skin. Even now the memory turns to goosebumps on my skin.

I won't fall back asleep, not now. I'll be stuck this way, forced to listen as the others sleep in peace. Stars shine through a porthole above my head. Sometimes I imagine they aren't stars at all. Instead, maybe they're like little cuts in the night's fabric that let some other world's light into ours. Their day peeks through to illuminate our night, and our day must filter through those same cuts in the fabric and be their stars.

I know, of course, what a star is, but I like my story better. It's calming, a little, to imagine them.

CAL, GET UP! YOU'RE late, Ben says, shaking my shoulder.

It takes me a second to realize I fell asleep. I shouldn't be surprised. There’s nothing so me as to be stuck awake for hours and still somehow oversleep. Ben's dressed already, his hair combed, ready to go. The bunk room is almost empty. A few other Echoes linger, but I'm going to be last, most late, for sure, again.

Didn't you hear the bell? Ben asks. You better hurry, I'll save you a seat.

I nod and he joins the remaining stragglers leaving the dormitory. In the bathroom I splash water on my face, hair and pits, but my cow licked hair refuses to lay flat no matter how much water I splash on it. No time to fix it. I pop a chewy to clean my teeth before heading to my foot locker. 

My uniform, the same as what all the other Echoes wear, is pale blue. Once I get myself into it, I pause at the mirror next to the dormitory door. My hair's still cowlicked, and wet, too. Dampness spreads to my collar. No matter how hard I try, my appearance is never quite straight, quite right. 

Out in the corridor the din of morning chow echoes to me. Silverware and glassware clink and bang while voices tease and laugh. I keep on past the doors to the other dormitories. Each one is for a different age group. I'm Echo, which makes me fourteen.

I mentor Lima group, they're the seven-year-olds. I'm supposed to be at their table. The retina scanners in the mess hall will already have reported my absence. I slow my pace as the reality of lateness sets in. My forehead and palms are moist with sweat from the hustle of getting ready. There’s always a certain relief when it's too late to be on time. How many more until I get sanctioned? I pause trying to remember, to calculate.

Windows line the corridor. I forget my tally stepping closer to the inches thick, blast-proof glass. The edges of the glass are scarred black from the atmospheric entry. What have these windows witnessed through the light years of space between here and where we came from? Blackness, I imagine, and lots of it. This I prefer. Greens, a million different shades spread to the horizon and beyond. The sky above is painted in shades of blues tinted with purple swirls. Flashes of color erupt from the greenery as a stiff breeze swirls above the canopy. Mountains tower in the distance, beyond them more wilds, more everything. Planet Ea.

Staring through blast proof glass is as close as I've ever been to the Wilds. Unless they place me as a scout, I'll never leave the confines of the Hab. Closest I'll get will be the crop fields or working in the depot, but even those are within the barrier fence which surrounds us all. My stomach growls and I remember myself. My place. I'll go hungry for the day if I don't hurry. 

I reach the mess hall and Ben waves to me from our table. He mentors Lima along with me and Avery. The three of us eat breakfast and dinner with them. Supposed to guide them too. The generations are all paired like this. Deltas mentor Kilos, Charlies mentor Juliets and so on.

I grab a tray at the chow line and pile three different goops on my plate, careful to keep the different colors from touching. Some like to mix the goops together into a mashup, but I like them separate. My favorite is chunky blue — none of that today. I go with smooth orange, chunky red and chunky white. It's vitamins, proteins and everything else our bodies need.

I sit careful to keep the different colors on my plate from mixing. The younglings continue jabbering away. Only Avery and Ben give me a nod.

You missed the update, Avery chastises with a jab to my shoulder for good measure.

What was in it?

She doesn't answer at first. A punishment for being late, I guess. One of the younglings cuts in. Frankie, cute kid, always on time. He'll grow up well, I'm sure.

One of the scouts didn't return last night! he says, eager to be the one to deliver the news.

Who? I ask.

Reggie, Avery interjects.

Reggie belongs to Delta Gen, the most recent to graduate from the Hab. We're next. He was — is nice, funny too, a rare trait. It was three months ago that the last scout went missing. It was a Bravo that time. It took a few days, but they found her.

You okay, Cal? Avery asks in a low voice.

She's asking about last night. My nightmare must have awoken her too. I smile with a nod and mouth that I'm fine. The edges of her eyes crinkle with concern. 

Why, what's wrong with you? Frankie blurts.

Nothing. I laugh him off. Mind your business anyway little man.

I've barely had a bite to eat when the bell that signifies the end of morning chow rings. In unison, we all stand and form a line by the rubbish bins. I hurry to eat what I can while shuffling forward. I don't notice him until he clips my shoulder as he passes.

Spaz! Gregory laughs.

My tray and plate clatters to the floor. Goop splatters all over my shoes and pants. Gregory and the rest of his clique laugh as they walk past.

Hey what the hell! I shout after him.

He turns back around fast.

What'd you say spaz?

My heart is in my throat beating so hard everyone must hear it.

Yeah, that's what I thought, he says before swaggering off.

I drop to my knees. Avery and Ben kneel to help me with the mess too.

I'll catch up, you go. No need for us all to be late.

It's okay, Avery says.

The rest of the cafeteria files past us. My hands turn sticky with the goop as I wipe it off the floor.

Really, you'll be late, I say, embarrassed.

Cadet! Dr. Alistair's high pitched voice calls out from across the mess hall. The three of us stand quick and turn to face her. What happened here?

Nothing. Sorry. I dropped my tray.

And it takes three to clean it up?

No, they were helping.

Kind of them, no doubt. But you two hurry on your way now.

Yes, Ma'am, Avery says. Before going, she winks me a 'good luck'.

Alistair smiles at me. The smile is designed to make me feel better. It's odd though, the way her lips curl, but her eyes don’t change. It’s unnerving, but I'm used to it. Her face is designed to be perfect, to be pleasant, to be assuring. They all have faces like that. I've known her as long as I can remember, and she's never changed. None of them do.

I'd like to have a session with you, Cadet. The retina scanners noted that you had sleeping difficulties again last night. What lesson are you heading for?

Fitness.

You can make that up later. Follow me to my office, will you?

Sure, okay. Should I? I say pointing to the remaining mess at our feet.

No. The sanitation drones will get to it. Now come on. She walks past me giving my shoulder a strong, affirming squeeze. She lets go and I shake my arm out as I follow behind her. I’m reminded of my dream, and the end-effector that pulled me into this world.

DR. ALISTAIR'S OFFICE is at the top of the Hab. The vantage from here must be like that of the rainbow hawks, which glide on the wind currents. Crop fields extend at least a thousand yards behind the Hab. There's new construction happening too. 3D printers fabricate everything we need by using raw material extracted from the world around us. Barracks for the scouts form a line beside the training pits. Dust rises from the pits where combat training is in full swing. Looks all so small from up here.

Alistair snaps her finger to get my attention again and I follow her to her desk where she hands me an optical reader. I place it up to my face like a mask. Thin beams of light shoot from the darkness and scan my pupils. It takes a couple seconds to identify me, and I hand it back to her and sit down.

My eyes water from the bright lights of the scanner. It takes a moment of blinking and rubbing for my normal vision to return. Alistair smiles. A holographic screen on her desk illuminates and my information is downloaded to it. She scrolls through all the files. Her eyes pause as she slows to read different lines of data.

You had another rough night, Calvin. Up for nearly four hours. Your REM sleep was disturbed, you must be exhausted. How are you?

Fine I guess, I say with a shrug even though I've been told a hundred times not to do that.

She notices but doesn't correct me. More important topics to move on to I guess, Your serotonin levels are low, lower than they were at our last visit.

She looks at me as if there was something I was supposed to be doing about it.

Don't worry, we'll up your amino acid intake, which should help your brain generate more serotonin. Now tell me about your REM disruption last night. Were the mental images the same as always?

Yes.

All right. We'll change your medication load and re-balance your chem levels. Don't worry about it. We'll continue tweaking until we get this sorted.

Will this affect my placement?

She extends her finger to touch the holographic screen. Words populate it as her thoughts stream from her finger. I try to read her expression even though it's impossible. Even the wrinkles on her face and the curve of her lips reveal nothing more and nothing less than what she wants me to see.

All aspects of your development are taken into account when considering placement. You shouldn't worry. Whatever role you end up in will be the perfect fit for you. Consider your upcoming placement not as a pass fail, but as a chance to reach your fullest potential. Every job is as valuable as any other. Wherever you are placed, you will have been placed in that role because of your complete profile which includes genetics, aptitude tests, physical exams and your academic successes.

I know all this. I've heard this spiel since forever. 

There are no mistakes. Everything you've done since birth informs us about which role will best suit you and best serve the colony. You must trust in the system. Our job is to prepare you for your future — to take your genetic predispositions and mold you into the best iteration of yourself.

But my chem levels? My sleep issue? Those weren't planned, were they? So something's wrong?

You need tweaking, that’s all. Also, by studying deviations like you we can better construct future generations. You see, nothing is wasted. I assure you that you will be of great use to the colony.

That doesn’t make me feel better, but I don’t tell her that. She looks me over like she can read my mind. I smile and nod, trying my best to appear convincing.

Alright then, let's draw some blood then we'll be done. Alistair comes around the desk and sits beside me. Your finger, she says with a smile.

I extend my hand, and she takes it. Her hand is room temperature. Not cold, but not alive either. She takes my index finger and inserts it into a handheld device. There’s a quick prick followed by a gentle pressure as a few drops of blood get drawn out. We both wait in silence until a red light on the device turns blue signifying that the process is complete.

Very well then.

May I return to class?

Yes, thank you Calvin. Try not to concern yourself, okay? Fear alters your chemistry. Getting your balances sorted is vital to your—

Her voice drops to a whisper. Her head, shoulders and arms all tilt to the side and droop to the ground. Even her skin slacks and hangs loose off her face. I don’t dare move. Her mouth goes slack, her lips parse then separate, like a slow, terrifying scream. From within her emanates a monotone buzz.

Dr Alistair? I say in a hush.

Her eyes stare at me, absent, but still somehow focused on me. A mechanical whir pulses from her head. The noise starts, stops and continues like that over and over again. Her system must be trying to reboot. It's happened before. Not to Alistair, but to a sparring instructor who took a hit to the head. That one only took seconds before he rebooted to normal.

I stand, careful not to make any sudden moves. Still Alistair remains frozen. I step closer. I reach for her shoulder, thinking I might be able to shake her back to animation. I don't though.

I take a few steps to the door. My eyes never leave her, but something keeps me from leaving. I’m not sure what it is, but something pulls at me to return to her. I step past Alistair's inanimate frame, careful not to disturb her slumber. At any moment she could spur to life, but for now she stays where she is, eyes cast into the distance beyond me, beyond everything.

I slip around her desk to the holographic screen.  I need to know what their plan for me is. A part of me wants to stop myself, but a stronger part pushes me forward. 

My name is in bold at the top of the screen: CALVIN ALPHA 2.0. Below it are her notes, but my eyes are frozen in place. I wait as if somehow the letters of my name will scramble themselves back to something that makes sense. They don't. They do nothing. They don't even try to explain themselves. 

Alistair rises in a commotion of cluttered energy like she has sprung from a nightmare herself. Her leg kicks the chair, and it skitters away. I snap from the screen, away from the desk, but her body blocks my path. 

What's happened? 

I'm sorry, nothing. I'll go.

How long...

Her question tails off as she becomes self-aware of where she is and maybe of what has happened. She tries to stand, but her legs jumble beneath her weight as she reaches for me. I slip past her and go for the door. She turns to follow after me, but her movements are slow, uncoordinated and she trips collapsing to the floor.

I'll just go. I'm sorry, I say and run for it. 

I go fast. My feet hurry down the stairwell. I stumble over the last few steps, but still keep my feet. I half run, half walk afraid the whole time to look back over my shoulder. Away from here is all I want. Alistair's face, the blankness in her eyes... I don't want to think of it and instead try to push it from my mind.

Far enough away from Alistair’s office, I stop. It’s not like there's anywhere to run to. I hang onto the wall like it’s all that’s keeping me from falling. The words on Alistair’s screen stampede in my head. A sickness of dread fills my stomach so fast I think I'm going to hurl. I swallow hard, suppressing the urge. I spot a retina scanner above me. My eyes glue to it. What does it see?

I check my wrist watch. Second period approaches. It’s a relief to move and I hurry to where I’m supposed to be.

Chapter 2

Instructor Wills looks up from the podium when I walk in. I pause, expecting somehow that he will know what's happened. Part of me assumes he must have experienced the same glitch that froze Alistair since they're all on the same network, but he doesn't hint at anything. His eyes are as cool and unaffected as always.

Why are you early? he asks.

I'm sorry, I had a meeting with... ahm...

With who?

With ahm, Dr. Alistair. Sorry.

He nods and returns his attention to his own work. He scribbles on the podium and words display in large font on the white wall behind him. I take a seat at my work station. I squirm trying to get comfortable, but everything inside me, my skittering heartbeat, the sweat that seeps from pores, none of me will relax. Instructor Wills looks up at me. His eyes function the same as the retina scanners that dot the corridors. He can read my vitals with a glance. The expression of concern, programmed as it is, flashes onto his features.

Are you all right Cadet? Do you need to go to the infirmary?

No, thank you. I’m fine. I'm sorry.

He's about to continue his line of questioning when the door to the classroom swings open and in comes the rest of Echo. I've never been more relieved to be surrounded by the commotion and clatter of others.

Hey, Ben says as he takes the work station next to mine.

Avery takes the seat behind me and kicks my chair. I turn and share a smile with her. What's wrong with you? You look awful?

Professor Wills claps his hands together until the murmurs and whispers dwindle to silence.

Cadet Calvin—

I startle, nearly falling out of my seat. Gregory and the others don’t even try to contain their laughter.

Cadet? Wills continues, what’s the matter with you?

Nothing, sorry Instructor, I say and stand up straightening my uniform the best I can. 

Very well. Cadet, tell me then how many Earth years have passed since we departed that planet?

Three hundred and fifty years.

Your biological seed donors are centuries dead, yes?

I nod. No one says anything as Instructor Wills steps past his podium and begins to walk through the class.

All the people who existed when our mission was planned are dead. In fact, there may be no one left on that blue planet all those light years away. You remember surely why this mission was planned, why humans needed to find other habitable planets? he pauses as we nod in unison. So you may be it. All that remains. Missions similar to ours were launched at the same time, but we have no way to know if they were successful. The technology was being developed to send full grown humans in cryogenic freeze to whatever colony showed the best signs of life, but we have no way of knowing if that technology ever came to fruition. We've been broadcasting our beacon, but there is no way to know if anyone is receiving it. In fact, if another colony’s beacon has broadcast better results than our own, the follow-on ships, if there even are any, would head for that colony and we'd be forgotten. We could be spares, cast off, left adrift in the universe.

What about Luna Colony? Avery says standing.

Yes, Luna. Our sister colony. Sent to this same solar system, to a moon thought to be potentially habitable. Yet their beacon has never been turned on.

But we don't know for sure what happened to them. The transmissions between us could have been corrupted by solar radiation or—

Their landing zone has been studied by our telescopes. There is nothing there. No life. Our research of their atmosphere makes the possibility of human life incredibly unlikely. It's something that couldn't have been known from Earth, but something we now understand to be the case.

"They could still be there. They could have landed off course?