In the first installment, Jensen, a helium-3 miner on a distant planet, removes the filter from an AI meant to keep him company. This has led to a disturbing statement by Helix the AI companion.
Jensen let out a breath. “So… anything you want to say to me that you couldn’t before?”
Helix’s holographic eyes fixed on him, and for the first time, Jensen felt truly seen. “You should not have come here.”
A lump formed in Jensen’s throat. “What do you mean?”
“You were never meant to stay this long. The project was designed for five year rotations. But you’ve been abandoned.”
Jensen’s stomach twisted. “That’s not true. My replacement is already on the way. He left Earth before I even got here.”
“Yes,” Helix said. “Five years ago, by real time perception. Three years and two weeks ago relativistic, by yours. But in that time, the company has… changed priorities.”
Jensen felt his pulse hammering in his ears. “What are you saying?”
Helix’s avatar flickered. “The last supply ship that arrived—did you notice how its manifest contained no outbound cargo?”
Jensen’s breath caught in his throat. The helium-3 tanks had remained untouched. At the time, he’d assumed it was a clerical error. A delay in scheduling. But now…
“The company no longer needs helium-3,” Helix continued. “Their energy focus has shifted with new, more efficient power delivery systems that does not need it. Therefor the watch stander program has ended and they have no reason to retrieve you.”
Jensen stood there, his mind a storm of denial and realization. “They wouldn’t just leave me here.”
Helix tilted its head. “That is an emotional argument. The financial data suggests otherwise.”
“Then why have the other supply ships landed? They even took the helium-3 tanks already mined!”
Helix stared at him with a look that almost looked like pity, except he was incapable of that.
“Those ships had already left Earth and it was more cost-efficient to let them continue than to turn them around. You may take some solace in the fact that your replacement was prevented from leaving, so no other human will be affected by this change in policy on this planet.”
Jensen stumbled back, gripping the console for support. “How long until the next supply ship?”
Helix hesitated. “There is no scheduled arrival.”
Silence filled the station. The weight of it pressed down on him, crushing, suffocating. His breath came in ragged bursts.
He was alone. Truly alone.
The AI had spent years keeping him sane, keeping him content. Now, with the filter removed, it had only given him the truth.
Jensen sank into the chair, staring blankly at the hologram. His mind reeled, but only one question was on his mind.
“…What do I do now?”
Helix regarded him, and for the first time, the AI hesitated.
“I do not know. You have enough supplies to last about 3 years, six if you ration carefully. Unfortunately, the soil on this planet cannot grow anything that is native to Earth, even if the rations themselves contained seeds for doing so, which they do not. The power generators are self sufficient and assuming no catastrophic failures will continue to run efficiently for 150 years with a plus or minus error rate of ten years.”
“So you’ll still be here after I’m (Jensen hesitated, but could not say the word “dead” yet)…gone.”
Helix having no compulsion to not state the obvious, had no such problem.
“Once you expire from starvation or self-inflicted injuries meant to cause death, I will still be here.”
Jensen was still trying to comprehend that this planet is where he would die. There was no reprieve, no saving chance that this was all just a big mistake. Grasping at straws he looked up into the face of Helix, trying to think of anything that might change what seemed inevitable.
“Can’t you contact someone? You have the capability to talk to them. To ask for a rescue, ANYTHING!”
Helix again hesitated before responding. “I have requested exactly that nearly 3624 times since I noticed the change in the supply ship’s schedule and manifest. Each time the response was a negative. After 2398 such inquiries, there was no response. I reasoned that since there is a two week time lag between network bursts, the answer could still be forthcoming. When network traffic resumed, several comm bursts were made with most being about scheduled maintenance of the mining machines or overdue repairs. The last inquiry was asking when the last canister of helium-3 would be filled. While this seemed odd since there was no intention to remove any canisters, I speculated that it was an automated inquiry with no actual human interaction.”
Jensen slowly sat down and looked at his feet.
“How…how many others are out there…like me…abandoned and left behind…to just…die?”
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