She remembered very well the virtual visit of President Mason to the little Nine colony. And she understood the process – that the avatar would act independently, speak independently, gather independent memories of the encounter. All this would be uploaded back to the original once the content was transferred back to Earth.
What she had not understood was how it would feel to have that content loaded back into her own mind, her cortex. How she would experience those memories for the first time – and only the first time.
It would be as if she was there.
When the projection link was established, it was as if she found herself sitting, once more, in the now-elderly hab that was still at the heart of the growing colony on Planet Nine.
Sitting in one of a ring of seats, just as when the assembled representatives had conferred with Melanie Mason, or her projection, at the height of the quasar crisis. But now Vasta was the projection.
And there was a coffin, set on trestles just outside the ring, covered with a flag of some shining material. Empty, she knew; Boyd had died on Earth, half-way through yet another lecture tour.
And the seats were occupied by people – friends – she’d thought she would never see again, even remotely like this. To be specific, three elderly men.
None of this was real, of course.
But she burst into tears. ‘Oh, shit.’ She buried her face in her hands.
The nearest of the old guys stood, and took a couple of paces towards her, before apparently remembering himself, and sitting back down.
‘Sorry. I forgot. You’re a hologram. And you can’t hug a hologram …’
The voice was familiar, if kind of scratched.
Vasta made herself look up, control the tears, wipe her eyes. A smiling face. ‘Fabio?’
He grinned now. ‘Don’t tell me I’m all grown up all of a sudden.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it—’
‘I’m fifty-eight years old, thanks. I’m still on the Cronos, still working on the mysteries of Nine. But I’m still a kid to this crew. I bet you don’t recognise the others.’
She looked around. ‘Well, I know the guy who should be in the box. Good old Boyd Hart. You know, I’ve learned he did so much media for Earth that he’s probably the best known of all of you down there.’
‘We know,’ said Fabio’s left-hand neighbour, sprightly, bald. Sour. ‘In the beginning I had to set up the links for him.’
She smiled. ‘Joe the comms guy. You’ve aged well. For …’
‘You’re fishing. Fishing is good. I know we’re all out of joint timewise. I’m in my tenth decade by my body clock. And this fossil next to me is six years older; he was six years older when we were in our twenties, and is still six years older now. Say hello, grandpa.’
Vasta smiled again. ‘Zaimu Oshima. Propulsion.’
‘Right. Without an honest job since the Shadow reached Nine and we shut her propulsion down.’
‘You’re all looking good.’
Joe snorted. ‘Except for Boyd. Always was a party pooper.’
‘Look, enough of the how-are-you stuff. I want to hear every detail of how life has been for you guys since we all departed. Me and Meriel and Salma and Doria and Feathers. Every detail. And when I get folded back into my original on Earth, I’ll cherish every word. Every smile.’
Joe hesitated. Then, ‘You can stay as long as you like. Really.’
Zaimu said, ‘We can keep you company in relays.’
Joe pressed on, ‘You know, you don’t have to – leave. Not permanently. We can take a backup copy of you as we go along. A copy that’s independent of the original … You’ll still be here. A part of you at least. Here for us, anyhow. And that’s all that counts, isn’t it …?’
She nodded. ‘Thank you. I’ll think that over.’
‘So, you first,’ said Fabio. ‘Spill the beans. Where the hell have you been?’
‘Including all the stuff I didn’t dare tell the authorities?’
Zaimu smiled, reached for her hand, pulled back a little clumsily. ‘Especially that. You first …’
They talked for hours.
And when the recording was done, when she found herself back in her cell-cabin on the Cronus, she wept, alone.