Chapter 1: Endings and Beginnings

A side story in the world of Make the Cut.

Author’s note: This story takes place in the year 2953, two decades after the events of Final Cut, book three of John Abrams adventures, and over a century before the events of Cut and Run, John’s fourth book. While it is not required that you read the other books in the series, this story may be confusing if you do not.

Somewhere over eastern Ecuador, South America, Earth

Thursday evening, September 13th, 2953

(Twenty-two years after John defeats the Master AI, freeing the Earth from under Assemblage control.)

“Now leaving the Amazonian Isolation Zone. Current flight path ahead remains clear of traffic,” came the strange-sounding artificial voice over Hoss’s audio system.

I jumped awake, having dozed off, tired from the long, emotionally draining day. It took me a moment to remember that the voice had been that of Aeolus AI, one of the new ‘lesser’ artificial intelligence presences, which Naomi had recently created to serve both as air traffic control and autopilot for all airborne travel occurring across the Earth.

With humanity now numbering solidly in the tens of thousands, and with much of that new population being children and teenaged ‘adults’ flying solo, it was thought that a more patient and level-headed AI acting as autopilot for all Earthly aircraft would be the wiser course.

I was still unsettled by the thought of all the new semi-independent AIs I’d permitted Naomi to create. I understood that both Naomi and the new AIs, along with most of the adult human population, were all busy as hell trying to jumpstart humanity and our new civilization as rapidly as possible.

Much of that effort was focused on two main pursuits, with the first being a rapid population expansion and the second being the construction and launching of escape craft capable of interstellar travel. Regarding the latter, I still felt immense pride and more than a little exhaustion that we’d manage to finish and launch our first starship, the Evadere, just four years earlier.

Even now, weather and alignment permitting, I would often go outdoors and seek out the distant pinpoint reflection of laser light from Evadere’s massive photon sails. The starship’s light show would continue to be visible for another two years, after which the second boost phase of the mission would be complete.

At that time, the orbital launching lasers would cease beaming gigawatts of photon energy towards the distant Evadere, and it would rely on momentum only as it coasted for the next two-and-a-half centuries towards Tau Ceti, its destination star.

The minimalistic vessel had no physical crew, active or even in bio-suspension. Even if stored in full suspension the mass requirements would have been too high. Instead, the craft carried only the digital mind-data recordings of dozens of humans. When (and if) Evadere arrived at Tau Ceti, physical human bodies would be newly grown in uterine medical replication crèches. Once these bodies reached early maturity, the stored mind-data recordings of the crew would be uploaded.

I often wondered about my own mind-data copy that I’d sent off with the crew of that vessel. If that copy of me would ever be awoken upon reaching that distant star, and if so, would he thank or curse me for having sent him off in my stead? Would he find heaven or hell? I hoped that what he found there would be, like Earth, something in between, if only to spare me from envy or regret.

Would I survive long enough to learn how it turned out for that version of me? Could I possibly live another three hundred years? That was the minimum time it would take for the Evadere to arrive and become established at its destination, and for any transmitted messages to return to Sol.

Reminiscing about the starship made me look up through Hoss’s crystal top canopy and back to the south, to seek out the constellation Cetus, the current location of the Evadere’s photon sail reflection. But, with sunset having occurred just minutes ago, it was still far too bright for any hope of spotting the tiny man-made star which marked our departing starship.

I yawned and stretched, debating if I wanted coffee to help wake up. “How long until we arrive at the Nicaraguan field base?” I asked out loud.

—The field base is currently one thousand, forty-five kilometers ahead. You will arrive in just over two hours, John.—

“Thank you, Naomi.”

I’d expected Ohmu to answer, as I’d forgotten that my android partner was not currently traveling with me. Instead, now that Uxe’s delivery date was so near, I’d insisted that Ohmu remain with her at all times. Naomi had answered via my implant almost instantly. I swiveled around to look to the east. Sure, enough I spotted the bright reflection of Naomi’s massive satellite complex rising over the horizon.

We’d started calling the satellite High Castle soon after Naomi had been installed there as its new master. More recently, Uxe and I had been using Naomi’s overwatch location as our private transfer point as we traveled to and from the fledgling starship construction yard in lunar orbit.

The other humans who’d left their template colonies behind to help work on the starship project used the newer, lower orbital space station for their transfers. Uxe and I were the only humans allowed to visit Naomi’s station, and with that intimacy, I had many fond memories of the place.

Thoughts of the lunar yards made me next look to the western horizon, hoping to spot the freight traffic heading to and from the moon. But again, the recent sunset meant the illumination angles were wrong for reflecting off the transports.

My attention was captured however by the post-sunset red skies toward the western horizon and I spent a few long minutes taking in the beautiful vista. It was enough to allow me to temporarily forget the day’s sorrows, but eventually, the darkening conditions reminded me of the day and its dark circumstances.

“Naomi, how’s my cargo?” I asked somberly, remembering why I was in the air and what I was carrying.

—The transport canister remains securely attached below your aircraft. Its contents remain in good condition.—

“Thank you, Naomi,” I simply replied.

‘Contents’ I thought to myself, shuddering slightly. While a perfectly valid statement, the mundane description of the body of my second daughter, Abby Abrams Branco was chilling. I couldn’t be upset at the lack of human understanding and tact displayed by Naomi, after all, it was simply an emotionless artificial intelligence.

Still, an audible sigh escaped me as I absorbed the unintentional slight from the machine. I returned to mulling over my thoughts which were a jumble of memories from the past week combined with occasional happier thoughts of the future. Those future thoughts were almost an escape from dwelling over the past and I was glad for them.

There were two main future topics that occupied my mind. The first was humanity’s next great project, the construction of our second starship, the Sovrana. We had just begun its construction but hoped to have the larger, more-capable interstellar vessel completed and launched in less than four decades. When complete, its destination would be Achird, more commonly known as Eta Cassiopeia.

When the AIs had suggested that star as the best destination for our second starship, I’d researched it using both current data and that in the old human archives. Learning of its ancient name or Achird, I’d mentioned to Naomi that I liked the sound of it over the more common Eta Cassiopeia. I didn’t expect that the star would instantly become Achird forever-hence. Wham, all data records rewritten overnight. I guess being mankind’s sole savior and having authority over all AIs came with perks.

My thoughts of the Sovrana project were tinged with a bit of guilt, however. The guilt was because I and my wife Uxe were bowing out of being involved with its construction this time. This was because of the second future topic I was currently obsessed with. It was a more personal and much happier topic as Uxe and I were instead focusing our time on our own little construction project. A project that was rapidly nearing completion of the initial assembly phase any day now.

I smiled as I thought of my pregnant wife. “Naomi, is Uxe available?”

—She is resting after having recently finished her evening meal.—

I was about to ask to be connected with her when her image appeared on the viewscreen in front of me. Seeing my wife, I was too happy to be upset with Naomi’s presumptive action.

“John! I was hoping that you’d call. How are you doing my love?”

She looked as tired as I felt but also sincere in her concerns over my well-being. Before I responded, I noticed that instead of the comfort of the living room in my house in South Dakota, Uxe was relining in a well-padded acceleration couch onboard our newer electro-jet transport aircraft.

I was almost distracted from asking about her location by her current garb. Her top was open and she was in the process of spreading some lotion on her very-gravid distended belly. I smiled as I took in her beauty. With her swollen breasts and very pregnant condition, she had that special look and glow that only expectant mothers can have.

“I wish I was there right now to help rub your tummy,” I replied.

“You will be soon enough. I only wish I was able to still be with you right now.”

“Speaking of that. Why are you on board the aircraft and not in our bedroom or the living room? Is something wrong?”

Uxe looked around at her surroundings for a second before answering. “I just finished undergoing a full medical scan in the maternity crèche aboard Mayo.” She saw my sudden worried expression and continued, “Everything is fine! The twins are in perfect health.”

I let my held breath out in relief as she continued. “It was just a routine scan. After it was completed I was tired from climbing out of the treatment basin and decided to rest for a bit in my acceleration couch before heading back inside.”

She patted the well-padded armrest beside her, “Although, as big as my belly is now, I sleep better here in this reclining chair than in our bed. I might just stay here tonight.”

I could understand that. Naomi had constructed and modified Mayo to act as both our personal, luxury transport aircraft and also to fulfill the pregnant Uxe’s every medical need. I had to admit the AI had done an outstanding job. The aircraft’s interior was plush and the fully-reclining acceleration couches were almost infinitely-adjustable and very comfortable.

The aft compartment of the aircraft was why we’d requested it be constructed. It contained the most advanced auto-doctor and medical crèche built thus far. With no hospitals, or doctors or nurses like in the old days for that matter, the AIs and the medical crèches served all of humanity’s medical needs in this era.

The equipment on board Mayo was fully capable of handling any trauma which might arise. From full surgery to routine diagnostics, nothing was too complicated for its auto-doctor to handle. Naomi claimed that it could even handle a decapitation, as long as the severed head was treated within four minutes. Of course, no one had tested those capabilities yet, volunteer or otherwise.

What was currently of more interest was the auto-doctor’s maternity functions. The machinery would soon be delivering my third and fourth children and despite all assurances, I was still nervous.

Uxe had helped design the unit and was confident in its abilities, which was good as she’d be the one soon needing its midwife functions. So, Mayo became our combination transportation and mobile hospital. We’d traveled with it and kept it close since the first month after Uxe had become pregnant.

There were even two uterine replacement canisters available, ready to quickly receive our twins if Uxe was unable to carry them to term. The AI had recommended that we move the twins to the artificial wombs early in the pregnancy simply for Uxe’s comfort, but my wife had stubbornly decided to tough it out ‘the natural way’.

I’d stopped asking her about that decision as her belly had grown and she’d found it increasingly difficult to get around. I was experienced enough with women in her condition to know when to shut up, and from the looks I’d received when I’d first brought up the topic, shutting up was clearly the proper course to follow.

“I’m glad everything is going well with you and our babies. I can’t wait to be back with you also. It should be tomorrow night, after I finish up in Nicaragua in the morning,” I said.

I hated being apart from my wife, especially now that the birth of our twins was imminent. Even heavily pregnant, Uxe had continued traveling with me. She’d even come along ten days ago when I had traveled to Peru to be with my dying elderly daughter Abby.

Uxe had her own reasons for coming though, as she’d spent almost a decade living under Abby’s care as a child. And, having grown up in that jungle, she thought she would be able to easily tolerate its heat and humidity.

The heat had hit her harder than she’d expected and I’d been little surprised when after only four days she’d apologized and almost begged me to allow her to leave the oppressive jungle. I think she’d overlooked that she had been re-shelled in a much stockier body than she had been in when she had lived in the jungle. And, she had lived the past twenty years in much cooler and dryer climates, including lunar space.

Abby had just laughed when my wife begged off staying. She told Uxe that she should not have come in her condition in the first place. But Uxe and I both knew that this was a polite lie. My daughter loved my wife and was glad to have the chance to say goodbye in person.