Certainly science-fiction, certainly dystopian. The authors that influenced the ideas I reckon will be quite apparent (there's even a name drop! But I hadn't read anything by him at the time, I promise, just others that had nodded to him). The writing is quite dry but I think the intention is pretty clear. About a worker moving a large vessel through space. About 5000 words again.
The Ship
Worker A422 opened its eyes and the blank ceiling became visible. The blue-grey texture of the metal roof appeared depressingly dull. Worker A422 vigorously shook its head to encourage the motivation to move out of bed and out of the cabin. Peeling off the covers, its temperature dropped slightly and it felt the slightest Goosebumps begin to rise on its skin. A brisk shudder and the worker was ready to begin its day.
A shower first. This was mandatory procedure for all workers and the routine ran with incredible efficiency. The water shot out like fierce, hot hail and left the skin bruised and clean. The shower was automatic and nothing could be controlled- the time, the temperature and the intensity were all set, never to be changed. When the shower stopped, Worker A422 picked up its clothes bag and opened it, extracting the towel. The towel was coarse but the worker used it without considered sensitivity because there was little consolation found in the worker’s existence - regardless of how soft or tough a dry-cloth was used. The reality was that such effort over such a trivial comfort was best seen as an effort to mask the fact that nothing could be done and that the plight was set. The course of the ship was guaranteed; the course was also irrelevant to Worker A422 because its job would be exactly the same wherever the ship was headed. The routine never changed, its details never changed. And the ship crawled on.
Once dried and dressed, Worker A422 walked on to the canteen and received it’s breakfast from Cook A679. They nodded at each other with minimal interest. Conversation was futile. They were both in fine health or else they would be in Ward A; the breakfast contents were always the same and always tasted the same; and they had no commonalities allowing no opportunity for small talk through mutual interest. The paste-like porridge was slopped into a bowl and then dropped onto the worker’s tray. Another silent nod before Worker A422 went and sat down at a table. Each table in Canteen A had a solitary chair attached to it, thus allowing minimal interference in the individual’s sustenance program. Apart from the occasional gasp of eye-contact, no communication took place amongst the diners. Instead, a steady rhythm was drummed out, monotone, as the spoons chinked against the bowls in unintentional unison. Worker A422 finished the gruel and left the canteen. It was time for work.
Down the corridor went the worker, passing all those who had finished their shift. They all stared right ahead because there was little to be gained in looking anywhere else. Their clothing was identical - the grey uniform of the worker role - while the shaven heads and ill-fitting fashion guaranteed that sex was impossible to discern. Although it was known that there were male and female workers, the knowledge did not go much further. The doctors took a bit from a male and a bit from a female before using their Science to create more. The two bits became one bit- another doctor or worker or cook or cleaner or securer or navigator. And the ship crawled on.
Worker A422 reached its workplace, seat 422, and began to work. A large metal wheel protruded out of the wall, a handle available for grip. Worker A422 grabbed the handle and turned. The wheel went round. Endlessly, ceaselessly it turned, round and round as eternal as its shape, gathering momentum and hitting a steady, plodding pace. Short intervals dispersed the work but a worker was not allowed to move from their seat during their shift. Any effort to break routine was dealt with by the securers - dark, heavy individuals that wore dark, heavy outfits. The consequence was unknown but it was certainly severe. Wild theories had slothfully spread around the different chambers of the ship but it was impossible to conclude the truth. Many workers believed that when the securers took an individual away it was never seen again. However, because the relationships between everyone on the ship were as strong as cotton and as thin as web (both within castes and without), individuals did not notice if anyone went missing nor if they returned. What was certain was that at the end of the Shifthall there was a door and if an individual broke the routine it would go through the door. The routine was rarely broken.
A sharp electric buzz signified the start of the first interval for Worker A422. It took a seat and stared out the window. There were few options available for the interval, a worker could look round the dull interior of the Shifthall or look searchingly into space. Worker A422 scanned the stars and accepted that there was little more excitement outside the ship than within its monochrome interior. The white specks on the blackened space-scape twinkled endlessly and without change. Any possible activity that would spark interest was so far away that the imagination would be more real. However, Worker A422 was aware that its mind was weak and unused, a natural development because a worker’s mind plays second to its body. The body must work to keep the great ship on its sluggish quest through the stars, the mind’s duty was merely to keep the body on task. No alternative functions were required and so none were exercised. Only one question dripped into the worker’s thoughts as it stared out into the endless depths of the universe. Being so inflexible in its ability to think, Worker A422 wondered how the navigators managed to translate the stars and keep the ship on course. Their intellectual depth was beyond anything the worker’s shallow thoughts could muster. But still, all were certain they were on course, sure and steady. The navigators had a direction and the ship was run to complete their plotted journey. Looking out at those stars, it appeared to A422 that the scenery had never changed and, for all it knew, the ship may not have moved at all and it could have remained stationary in space. But the navigators knew, they noticed the change and they felt that the ship was getting warmer to its destination. Such a wonder, that a navigator could know so much and a worker so little. Each were as vital as they were different.
The mild distractions of the interval faced a very sudden and immediate end. Normally, due to their expert knowledge of the routine, the workers knew when the intervals were to start and finish. Despite there being no specific measurement of time, those on the ship had internalised all mechanisms and processes to the point of ingraining it to their very core-being. Thus, the buzzing signal was not ending the interval but another disturbance had taken place. An inevitably more exciting proposition. Another worker was being held and dragged by two securers to the door. Their restraining hold meant that the worker’s struggle was unlikely to come to much and its mouth was covered as to prevent any further distraction. However, for the first time in Chamber A and possibly the first time on the entire ship, the worker wriggled free. The grip of the securers faltered and the worker fell to the ground. Quickly, it picked itself up to its feet and yelled, “I am not worker A329, I am just and right! Seek their book, seek their truth! They will have us dead! They will have us dead! We must open our eyes! If we stay blind, we shall all be doomed! Rise, brothers and sisters! See!-” The speech was dashed short by the securers as they determined their control. Worker A329 was silenced once again and disappeared through the door. And the ship crawled on.
However, the excitement had stirred parts of Worker A422 that had been dormant since its living memory. Emotions! Feelings! They splashed colour onto the blank canvas that was the worker’s soul. Speckles splattered, faint and scattered but certain to spread upon the worker’s mind, forming impossible questions. The securers may have regained control of their target but damage had inevitably been done, and Worker A422 had been awoken in the debris. The speech was cataclysmic. A single spark to ignite and the world is set afire. The torch had been passed on - one worker falls, another stands tall. However, concepts of conspiracy were not routine and Worker A422 understood its duty. The shift was to be completed. The buzz went seconds later and the work began again. The hands gripped the handle and the momentum began once more. Physical labour was necessary to project the ship ever forward in space. ‘The workers provide another vital resource for acceleration,’ thought Worker A422, ‘speeding us to a place unknown.’ Worker A422 had never thought beyond the routine before, it had never found any alternative concepts, but the passionate words of the forgotten worker (already forgotten, another face never known and never to be known) had created many possibilities and one seed was destined for fruition. For better or for worse, the worker was determined to discover the secrets of the navigators. The wheel turned incessantly, its pace equalling that of the workers mind. But the feverish effect of rebellion did not break for intervals.
With the exception of the unexpected glitch, the shift was completed without any noticeable complication. The metallic oars were oscillated as required, the ship was projected deeper into space and the workers returned to the canteen. Along the corridor Worker A422 acted out of character and glanced at all the faces that passed on the way to their shift. The act was not noted by anyone, for no one looked back, but the worker felt already that a great change in attitude was developing within itself. Back in the canteen, the worker picked up a tray and greeted the cook with a smile of humility and compassion, even offering a verbal greeting! The cook’s face remained as immovable as a mountain but Worker A422 cared not, the significance was the personal change and not other people’s reactions. Other people! Brothers and sisters; these individuals were not ‘its’ but ‘hims’ and ‘hers’! Although, it was unaware what the difference was between the sexes (it mattered not except to doctors; caste was the significant differentiation), Worker A422 felt that its view had developed people from objects into beings. Even if this thought had not been established by others, even if they remained conscious of only being a role and a tool, the truth remained, obvious and yet powerfully hidden. Despite having no social skills and a complete inability to interact with the other individuals, Worker A422 began feeling an affinity with those around it. These other workers took part in the same routine as Worker A422, they shared an understanding of their role, they understood other roles in relation to their own and they all felt the same distance and at the same time, however little, the same interconnectedness. Worker A422 was developing caste consciousness. Of course, others had not developed a rebellious streak and any attempt at mutiny was likely to result in failure at the hands of the securers. Instead, having constructed a duty to its fellow workers, Worker A422 was going to have to act all the more as an individual. The worker finished its meal and emptied its food tray, returning to its room ready to seek out the navigators and their unknown covenants. Its mind energetically cantered with the various possibilities - success or capture, death or glory. And the ship crawled on.
Worker A422 paced its room, attempting to envision the best course of action. Within a small space of time, it would be expected that the worker would be unconscious and deep in slumber. This would be the most appropriate time to make an effort at reaching the navigators’ chamber. The navigators were unlike other castes because they lived in a separate community that partook in minimal interaction with others. The hulking, mechanical spaceship was divided into seven chambers - specifically, the ‘Body Chambers’ that were notified as Chambers A-F and the ‘Brain Chamber’, or Chamber N. The first six chambers were developed into tightly-knit communities that thrived on an endlessly repeated routine and required its inhabitants to be as precisely confined. Each individual was committed to a specific role that they had to complete with the minimum of distraction and error. The communities were dependent on each person being undeterred from their mission and the securers were the most important because they had to quench any subversion. The securers were the only caste that related to the navigators the developments and situations in each of their relevant chambers. Each Body Chamber had a staircase that led to the Mind Chamber and each staircase was well guarded because the navigators held the most important position on the ship. If the navigators did not ascertain the course for the ship the drifting would be endless and futile; though only the navigators knew what the destination was, all the ship-dwellers were aware that a destination was set. Beyond the details of their role, the navigators were a mysterious and evasive caste, intellectual masters of organic automatons. Very few of those that existed in the body chambers developed any form of interest in the navigators’ situation for it did not hold any significance to the routine. The majority were aware of their duty and had become so indoctrinated by the clockwork notions that alternative matters became irrelevant matters. Furthermore, the ‘Body Chamber’ populace, though barely awake in consciousness, were blissfully content in slumber (due to the benefits of soothing drugs excreted through the air-conditioning) and only a few anomalous beings were tempted to rock the boat. Worker A422 had become one such irregularity.
As the lights in Worker A422’s room switched off automatically in accordance with the routine, the worker slipped out of its room. The corridor remained well lit and the securers were still on sentry duty. Each role, whether securer or doctor, remained functioning, with shifts being infinitely rotated for maximum efficiency. Therefore, much discretion was required to guarantee that Worker A422 would proceed successfully without detection. Looking up, it saw the thick iron piping that pumped the oxygenated atmosphere around the ship’s titanic interior. The worker ran up the wall, exercising grace, agility and balance before wrapping its arms round the piping and swivelling round to the top of the pipe. Slowly, cautiously, the worker creepily slid along the cold, coarse tube, the softest scrape being made as flesh rubbed against metal. The whispering hush was near silent but possibly circumspect if the securers were more alert. However, actions out of the routine were rare experiences and securers reacted to them instead of containing themselves at a constant level of awareness. Therefore, the worker managed to proceed with rough poise all the way to the sturdy door of thick steel, the solitary entrance in Chamber A to Chamber N. As always, two securers were standing at the door, an intimidating barrier. Typically, the securers were large and impressive and Worker A422 understood that a strict assault would be necessary to proceed further. A moment of hesitation struck the worker but it dived out of the mind as quick as it entered. With a falconish swoop, the worker swung its legs acrobatically forward and struck the securers severely in their faces, their heads flinging back and impacting upon the metal walls. Unconscious.
Worker A422 opened the door to Chamber N with nervous anticipation. A staircase greeted it, basking in warm, dusty light. Worker A422 stepped in and closed the door before moving up the steps with slow and defined purpose. An intense wave of uncertainty tingled its body - such extreme rebellion from an inspiration so recent. Were these actions right? It had never thought them necessary before. The worker hesitated but then remembered the duty it had felt. It had never felt more alive than in this recent time - the desire to know offering a chance to be more than a mere mechanism. A chance to become a person! Worker A422 climbed the stairs and placed its hand around the handle. A push down and the door opened.
As the worker peered through the entrance, it was greeted by a vast, plush utopia of Eden-like proportions. Considering the metallic quality of the rest of the ship, the only world the worker had known, it could do nothing but stare mesmerised and astonished. There was an organic humidity and warmth that, contrasted with the sterile coolness of the ship’s steady air-conditioning, was overwhelmingly wonderful. Occasionally dotted amongst the vibrant foliage were robed-figures, casually talking and playing various light-hearted games. Worker A422 stared at these new and unusual beings: The Navigators, the elusive leaders of the ship. As if a stunned statue, the worker stood there in silence. After a while, its presence was noted by one of the monk-like navigators. With a warm smile, the navigator offered a hand. “Welcome, child,” he said by way of greeting. Unlike other castes, it appeared that the navigators were notably of a specific sex. In this case the navigator had shoulder-length hair and a face that was hardened yet friendly. Furthermore, his robe denoted the male sex by being the colour of orange clay. The female’s robes, by contrast, were a warm green. The worker placed its hand in the navigator’s and it passively had its hand shook.
“Who are you?” enquired the navigator.
“I am Worker A422,” came the reply.
“No-no,” responded the navigator, “That’s what you are, not who you are.”
The statement made very little sense to the worker and the navigator understood. “It shall become clear,” he offered as a mysterious attempt at explanation. He continued, “I am Navigator Aldous. May I ask how and why you are here?”
The worker struggled to answer. Casual conversations were not commonplace for Worker A422 and it did not know how best to respond. In the end it gave an answer: “I have come to see.”
The navigator nodded sagely. “Then you shall see.”
Navigator Aldous began to stroll forward and the worker followed. “We are on a ship that is heading for a destination, A422. I am certain that you are not aware of the history of our people and the position we faced. It became necessary to leave our home and we are en route to a new home, where our people will live in social harmony. Much like we do on this ship at the moment.”
So many unusual words hit the worker. Words that were used in such strange ways. Home was the ship, there was no other meaning. Home had always been the ship. What did he mean by a ‘new home’? The worker knew there was a destination, but was not aware the destination was a home. What of the ship? And ‘our people’? A very peculiar way to speak. There were workers and doctors and the like, but no people. The worker had thought such an expression as outrageous, a sign of its rebellion. However, the leaders of the ship used this subversive phrasing as if it was natural. Strange. And then this totally new word: History. The worker had absolutely no idea what this object was but it was apparent that the people had one. Confused, the worker waited for more information.
“You are a worker. Your task is to turn the wheels - to set forth increased motion for the ship, you aid it towards its destination. But you do not know what the destination is, you blindly project us to a new world. You have no idea what you are doing but you know it is expected - demanded. Tell me, can you read?”
Assuming it could not, Worker A422 shook its head.
“No, of course,” smiled the navigator with a mysterious mix of superiority and malice. “There was a navigator in the past called Navigator Erica Blair. She wrote a genius story called The Ship. I cannot recite it in great detail but would you like to know the tale and its meaning?”
The worker looked without offering a sign one way or the other.
“Well, I shall tell it to you. It is a story of a ship, much like this one but it is of an earlier time. As the end of our first home was coming to pass, Erica discussed the possibility of a ship going into space, seeking a new home for its inhabitants. The ship and its people are an interrelated metaphor- that means that they represent certain aspects of each other. So, the ship requires a brain and it requires limbs and what-not so that it can successfully survive. Obviously, it needs its ‘arms’ and ‘legs’ to be powerful and requires sustenance and so, as you can see, the ship’s system can be perceived organically. Likewise, a person needs its brain to offer commands to its body so that it can reach its destination, fulfil its course. A person is on a journey, much like a ship. Often, if not always, the person cannot be sure of where it is actually heading, exactly like this ship. Thus, the parallels are clear and impressive. However, a fact does become equally as transparent within the tale - there is a stark difference between a ship and its occupiers, for people have consciousness. Within our organic selves, there is only one mind. Our cells do not compete and argue with each other. Our arms, our legs, they do not have their own separate wills and desires. But on a ship, each individual in each role does not work automatically, without thought. The various components of a ship are each intrinsically vital, like the various parts of a human, but command is not guaranteed on a ship, unlike the various parts of a human. The tragic conclusion of Erica’s story is of the ship descending into chaos, wildly destroying itself. The story raises several questions, many of which are merely philosophical. However, some people took it literally as a warning about the perils of our inevitable future space quest. Measures were taken and when various ships began to depart from our home, this ship attempted to follow a template that would limit disruptions from the routine as best as possible. Do you understand?”
The worker’s mind was expressing its lack of understanding with a dull throb. Worker A422 tried to grasp the meaning. Was the worker like a ship? It did not know what to do or say, and so it asked the question aloud. The navigator smiled once more but, this time, it offered sympathy.
“I’m sorry. I am a navigator, my caste and I represent the brain. We lead and we are very alive for it is necessary for us to have consciousness to best fulfil our role. An ancient philosopher once made the remark, ‘I think, therefore I am’. We have realised that this leaves a lot to be desired. Worker A422, you think, therefore you are or, in other words, you exist. However, I am conscious, therefore I live. Worker, we have made you as a tool, a slave without consciousness - you barely have the capacity to think, let alone to philosophise or reflect. By making all the other castes as near to mere mechanisms as we could, our caste feel we have guaranteed the most efficient and capable ship. In many ways, it’s for our mutual benefit. The modifications you have received, the indoctrination you have embraced, these things have improved our chances for survival. But whether you are like a ship or not is ultimately irrelevant. A ship is essentially a vessel for its passengers. The simplest way I can explain the situation, is that I am a passenger of the ship, I am seeking its destination, whilst you are more part of the ship than you are anything else. We are as closest we have ever been to making a worker a literal tool and little else. You are not like a ship, you are merely a component. Do you understand?”
The worker felt it did understand and, more than this, it felt it disagreed. Throughout the navigator’s lecturing the two of them had been moving. They were now coming to a stand that held a large book upon it and the navigator stopped to flick through its pages. Now that they had stopped moving, the worker felt ready to speak.
“But if I’m a tool, if I’m incapable of thinking and merely complete my set tasks, then why am I here? If I am so bound by the routine, then why have I broken it?”
“Well, let’s see if you can offer an explanation,” said the navigator still working through the book, slowly stroking each page and then turning it. The worker considered the question and thought back to the rebellious worker’s fiery speech: ‘Seek their book, seek their truth!’ ‘If we stay blind, we shall all be doomed!’
“I have come to discover the truth, I have come to see,” answered the worker confidently.
“To see what? To discover which truth? Your truth is your role. What you need to see you see every day. What you have seen tonight what has it answered for you? It has answered nothing, instead it has created more questions. Questions you cannot even phrase…”
The worker’s confidence dwindled. It asked with uncertainty, “Why do you think I have come here?”
“Like all tools that disrupt their routine, you have malfunctioned. I have a feeling you were in the room involving the incident with Worker A329? I can check if necessary.”
“No,” replied the worker, “don’t check, I was there.”
“Well, we know he delivered that speech. That caustic, childish drivel! To a navigator we can mock it for being the pathetic piece that it was but to a worker, with such a simple mind, it would no doubt have an incredible effect. It stirred things within you that we have made you suppress - feelings and passions - and now you have malfunctioned through these foolish demands for action. You are still a tool, but now you are broken, of no use.”
The worker lowered its head, as if ashamed. Then something flickered in its mind, something confusing and wonderful. ‘We know he delivered that speech’. “Worker A329 was a ‘he’?”
“Yes,” replied Aldous, “Worker A329 - male, white, blue eyes, brown hair, approximately a third of his working life expired. Sadly, the remaining two-thirds will not be completed. His name was Justin Wright, a descendent of the genes of Justin and Emma Wright.”
Worker A422 looked up at the navigator with a look of amazement when it felt both arms apprehended. The bulky forms of securers restrained the worker on both its sides. “Ah, and here you are,” announced the navigator, a finger upon the book, “Worker A422 - female, white, blue eyes, brown hair, approximately a fifth of your working life expired. Another unfortunate waste. Emma Wright - my word! Surely not a coincidence. A defective gene, perhaps…”
As the navigator mused over this discovery, the worker, Emma, felt herself come alive once more. She struggled against the securers but could not break from their powerful hold. “Let me go,” she screamed. The yell brought the navigator back to the situation at hand.
“Certainly not. You are wild, you are now not only a waste but a potential threat, a danger. You have only one use left, and that shall not be ascertained by allowing you to be unrestrained. I’m sorry worker, but its nearly time for you to leave.”
“My name is Emma,” she seethed.
“That may be who you are,” replied the navigator nonchalantly, “But that is not what you are. Worker we are on a journey and we are seeking a destination, a new home. We feel we are getting close. We can feel its warmth. Unfortunately, you will not see our new utopia any closer than it is now.” The navigator stood aside and raised an arm as an arrow, pointing to a transparent screen, a vast window revealing their destination. It glowed with astounding brightness upon the black canvas. A molten ball, a boiling hot star. Existence upon such a thing would be impossible, a fact that even Emma could uncover.
“If you go there, we shall die,” she said solemnly.
“What would you know?” replied the navigator. “We feel it is the best place to go and we are far more aware of things than you are.”
Emma felt frustrated by his indignant tone. “Can’t you see?” she asked.
“Who needs to see when you can feel?” answered the navigator.
“You mean you are blind?”
The navigator laughed. “You were closer with your first summation. Who is more blind, me or you. You have been pushing this ship ever forward without any ability to see where you have been going. You have had no reason to execute your actions but you blindly complete them because you have been so conditioned. The judgement of the navigator caste, who through our own genetic weakness have been denied sight, is surely far superior to yours. Your time of insolence is over, take her away.” Upon the navigator’s command, the securers began to drag Emma away.
“Your course is set for death!” Emma attempted to warn the navigator once more. With no verbal response, Aldous made a hand motion and the securers silenced the ex-worker.
Emma was dragged back down the stairway, along the corridor she had passed countless times before and into the Shifthall where she had spent such a great deal of her life working. She looked at the workers on shift with pleading eyes but the grip of the securers was unshakable. Then the door at the end of the hall opened and she was immersed in darkness. She could see little and heard nothing but the solemn steps of the securers. Another door creaked open, she was thrown and her entire body collided with a wall, winding her. The door closed. A few seconds later she gathered back her breath and began to feel the walls for an exit. Her search was working with little success when a voice came over a speaker:
“Welcome. You have malfunctioned and this is where you must reside until you complete your final use. The workers use the metallic oars to project us further but are not our only source of motion. We also use fuel to aid projection. You are destined to be fuel earlier than expected. We shall be calling upon you soon.”
Emma sat down in the darkness, blind once again. Everyone on the ship was incapable of seeing and they were blindly moving to their demise. The lower castes conditioned to be blind servants. And the navigators were literally blind but were suffering from a worse type of blindness. Their blind arrogance was leading the ship to a burning death. And the ship crawled on…
