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CHAPTER 1
Mapharno City 2055
A ferocious wind blew across the street outside the big conference centre, lifting the heaps of discarded plastic and cardboard up from the curbs. The pavement was filthy, and the main road heaved with the usual bustle: motorbikes, cars, triple-tiered buses, lorries, all spewing their toxic filth into the air.
A flux of pedestrians moved up and down the street in an incessant swarm, most with their ashen faces firmly buried in their screens, bingeing on their digital sewage, ignorant and uninterested about what was happening two metres in front of them.
Business as usual.
The entrance steps to the conference centre were glazed with spit and phlegm, and plastic cups and crushed cans littered the corners, but an effort had been made to clean up the interior of the grand hall. There was a good reason for this, because today was the day of the long-awaited presentation by The Universal Mining Agency, the most powerful energy corporation in the entire Republic of Enignia.
News of this mysterious presentation had been circulating for some time, and now, finally, after much publicity and hype, the day had arrived.
Terence Tringley stood before the assembled crowd in the large hall, a pile of notes arranged neatly on the lectern in front of him. He looked more like a mad professor than a CEO, what with the wild tufts of greying hair sprouting from either side of his head, but his clothing was certainly corporate-looking. A dark navy-blue suit covered his rounding body, and the knot of a red tie sat neatly beneath his chin.
A small entourage sat quietly behind him towards the rear of the raised stage, consisting of his son, Paul Tringley, a zoologist named David Kingston, and a few select employees from his corporation.
For the last twenty minutes or so, Terence had been explaining the features and functions of his latest project, and indeed the main focal point of the presentation itself: the generation ship, Conservation. It was now time for the general-public to ask their questions about this strange new ship.
‘So, where exactly is this spaceship headed?’ asked a middle-aged man in the front row, as a representative held a microphone to his face.
‘Conservation’s ultimate destination is proxima b,’ replied Terence, ‘an exoplanet within a star system named Alpha Centauri, which is just over four light-years away.’
‘Four light-years?’ replied the man in the crowd. ‘So, how long will it take the ship to get there, then?’
‘With a vessel of this size, the travel time to proxima b will be somewhere in the region of fifty thousand years.’
A gasp rang out among the crowd, followed by a few bursts of sarcastic laughter here and there. Terence was expecting this, though, and he held his composure.
‘But, ladies and gentlemen, this is the whole point of a generation ship. Numerous generations of people will live out their entire lives onboard the vessel, serving their part in the functioning and maintenance of the ship, as well as the perpetuation of the human race, without ever laying eyes on proxima b. Crewmembers will give birth, raise children, and then inevitably pass away on route, leaving the next generation to carry on with the following stages of the mission.’
For some, this revelation was simply too much to accept, and certain members of the audience did little to hide their incredulity. A representative made their way towards another person in the crowd and held out a microphone, this one a young woman in the third row, with four children sat around her.
‘Are you expecting us to sign up for this? How is this supposed to help us? Nobody’s gonna want to spend their whole life stuck on some damn space ship!’
Terence cleared his throat. He wasn’t too rattled by the animosity, because he was expecting a bit of an uproar. Maintaining a courteous tone, he delivered his answer. ‘Conservation is unlike any other vessel that has ever been built, my dear. It consists of miles and miles of natural habitat, including fields and meadows and clusters of wild, jungle terrain. In fact, the natural terrain onboard the ship surpasses anything that remains here on Earth. Furthermore, there is a diverse selection of animal wildlife on the ship, thanks to the generous donation made by an associate of the project, Professor David Kingston.’ Terence turned and waved a hand towards the back of the stage as he said this, acknowledging a man in a tweed suit who sat behind him. The man waved at the audience rather coyly. He looked to be in his mid-forties, but at the same time, he had the fashion sense of a man twice that age. Sensing the professor’s shy reaction to the attention of the audience, Terence continued with his talk. ‘The accommodation on the ship is impressive, too. Dozens of villages line the fields and meadows, with spacious housing for all. In short, my dear, if you want to escape the slums of Mapharno City, look no further.’
The young lady refused to respond, waving the microphone away, so another member of the audience got to speak.
‘What about my social media accounts? Will the ship have Wi-Fi?’ This question came from a young man in his early twenties, who’d been tapping away at his screen right up until the moment the microphone was held in front of him.
‘The ship has an onboard control room and digital library, and certain documents and webpages can be accessed on a rota schedule, but I’m afraid the current culture of smartphones and social media will not be accessible to the crew.’
The microphone had now made its way over to a balding man in a tracksuit. ‘You call that a better life? Being stuck on some spaceship for the rest of our days with no phones? Without even gettin to see this weird planet you speak of?’
Adjusting his glasses, Terence said, ‘Sir, may I remind you of the present state of our planet? Our streets are full of litter, our air is toxic, our canals are nothing but big long bins, our rivers are slick with oil, and the scarce remaining wildlife we have left can only be found in poorly maintained zoos. Why would anyone want to live like this? Or bring a child into a world like this? Conservation represents a new start; a new beginning with an unpolluted ecosystem. It will provide a safe, stable environment for you and your grandchildren to live in, and will eradicate the perpetual state of fear and worrying that most people live their lives in today.’
Terence delivered this well, and he looked pleased with himself, although if anyone with a keen eye had been observing him closely, they would have seen a micro-expression of inner conflict flash across his ageing countenance.
‘What would be expected of us up there?’ asked a woman in the second row. ‘Workwise, I mean? Surely, some kind of duties would have to be carried out.’
‘Good question. Of course, farming work will need to be done, as well as tailoring and surgical operations, etc. Furthermore, the ship itself will need to be serviced and maintained. But this work will be distributed in the fairest way possible, with every crewmember being given a chance to experience the best life the ship has to offer.’
Terence’s fingers began to move and tremble slightly, and he repositioned them behind the lectern, out of sight.
‘You’ve told us all about the great advantages of this mission,’ said a man in the front row, ‘but what about the disadvantages? Are you willing to be completely honest with us here, and lay out the negative aspects of this mission?’
Terence took a deep breath. His pointed eyebrows stood high above his eyes, resembling the wings of a bird, and his eyes themselves were beginning to show fatigue. He proceeded carefully. ‘One possible scenario that I have speculated about is that the first generation to be born onboard the vessel may develop a certain degree of hostility towards their parents, once they reach a certain age. When they realise that their parents have, in effect, summoned them to a life onboard a star-bound vessel, they may...they may find it hard to accept.’
The crowd nodded at this, with most people appreciating the honesty, although others were understandably unsettled.
‘But, please understand, this would be a temporary problem. Or, you could call it a first generation problem. The second generation will not be able to blame their parents in the same way, because their parents will also have been born on the ship. So, as time goes on, this problem will lose potency.’
‘What if it gets too overpopulated up there?’ asked an elderly man, at the back.
‘Another good question, sir. Thank you. There will be a strict one-child policy on Conservation, for this very reason. The last thing we want is an overpopulation crisis to occur, so there will be mandatory vasectomies for all men who have sired one child.’
Despite the negative slant to what he was saying, Terence felt as though he was winning at least some people over. His honesty was appreciated, and the technical details that he was reeling off proved that the project had been studied and examined from every possible angle. All he needed to do now was end the presentation on a high note, and there would be ample members of the community ready to sign the paperwork.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to drive the point home that in this current era, we are all faced with the harsh reality that our planet has become a ticking clock. Our animal wildlife has suffered a sixth extinction, and humans are next in line. My fellow colleagues and I at The Universal Mining Agency believe that this project is the key to the future survival of the human race. However, we can only accept a limited number of applicants, so I strongly advise you to seize the opportunity that has been presented to you.’ With a warm smile, Terence Tringley then said, ‘Thank you very much for your time and attention.’
As Terence nodded and rounded up the presentation, the crowd was prompted into an applause by the staff and representatives. Terence then walked away from the lectern towards the back of the stage, where he regrouped with his son, Paul Tringley, the professor, and a handful of managerial staff members of The Universal Mining Agency.
The atmosphere was buzzing; The Conservation Project was now in full swing.
CHAPTER 2
On a vast airstrip in Willowdale, forty miles north of Mapharno City, a huge sphere sat upon a frame of reinforced scaffolding, shining under the chalky glare of moonlight. The sphere, otherwise known as Conservation, had a diameter of ten miles. Inside this sphere, this giant blister sat upon the tarmac, a pale yellow light glowed, visible through its network of windows and grids.
If anyone had been permitted to stand close to the ship, they would’ve heard the muffled sound of a million animals inside, feasting and flourishing among the artificial habitat. Countless species trotted, climbed and flew over the mountains and hillsides within the sphere, thriving under the installed UV sun.
After extensive screening, testing and training, a few thousand Homo sapiens were also onboard the colossal vessel, ready to start a new life and a new era for the human race.
Along one edge of the airstrip, a sizeable distance away from the ship, scores of engineers and technicians made their final preparations for the grand take-off. After a few more minutes, it would be time.
An exploding goldfish bowl. That’s how the take-off of Conservation would later be described by certain members of the press. After the appropriate signals were given, a blazing fire erupted from the underside of the mighty sphere, knocking away the scaffolding and melting certain sections of the tarmac strip. The ignition was powerful enough to cause the ground to tremble under the feet of those standing a mile away from the ship, and the resulting heat blackened the windows of houses situated far away in the next town.
For a while, it seemed as though the bulky vessel was never going to rise, but eventually, when the ground underneath it had been reduced to burnt toast, and the leaves on trees half a mile away had been singed and blackened, the behemoth generation ship slowly began to rise up into the night sky like an illuminated, segmented balloon.
The noise was horrendous, despite the earplugs and ear-defenders that the assembled spectators wore, and if there had been any animals remaining in the near vicinity, they would have scarpered for cover and sanctuary.
Up and up it went, despite its heavy bulk, until eventually it resembled another star in the night sky, another twinkling speck way up high. At this point, the deafening noise had receded enough for communication to resume between the technicians and onlookers, and it took the form of cheering, clapping and applause.
The journey to proxima b had begun.
