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Brother Anderson performed a visual inspection tour of the ship. Of course, it was more than simply a visual inspection. He was constantly receiving data from the ship’s subsystems, and running regular status reports and analyses. He found some inexplicable sense of completeness when he was physically at the site of the system he was monitoring. So, he had made it a practice to move about the ship while running his reports. Although hull and bulkhead stability was beginning to deteriorate slightly, atmospheric conditions had improved dramatically on board. The air scrubbers had had their work cut out for them after the incident. Of course, he had jettisoned the filters and completely vacuum purged every single cavity within the ship since then. Several times. The initial airlock protocol had kicked in automatically as soon as the first handful of respiratory conditions had been self-reported by crewmen. But even then, it had already been too late. The virus had already infiltrated the whole ship. Except for one spot.
Hannah’s studio and quarters had been a recent addition to the ship, tacked on the exterior hull along the edge of a fin on sector C. They were designated ‘Deck C28A’. Maison Bhutros had been very stringent on her specifications around soundproofing. Deck C28A had no physical contact with the rest of the ship. It was anchored and cross anchored with a series of finely tuned magnetic decouplers. It’s airlock access to the rest of the ship defaulted to a retracted state. All other support systems were self-contained. It was essentially a separate ship, albeit one with no drive system. The whole thing had been custom-designed from the ground up, based on acoustic requirements as the fundamental quality. Maison had funded the project personally and had spared no expense. It was only speculation of course, but rumors had flown that deck C28A was worth more than the rest of the ship. Some versions of the story included the price of cargo, which, at fifty million tons, usually of bulk ore, was certainly a significant value.
Brother Anderson wondered if Hannah was even remotely aware of how much her mother had spent for her comfort. He guessed not. Her degree of self-absorption was actually quite remarkable. This thought was not a judgement in a negative way, just an observation. Sometimes people could be amazingly oblivious to what was going on around them. For some people it was almost a talent. What must it be like to be unaware of the surrounding environment, oblivious of external data, ignorant of possible input? He could not imagine it. How could anyone choose this? And what of those who had no choice, whose input was suddenly stripped away? What must it be like for Colin, trapped in a coma? He showed electrical activity in the brain, but it was impossible to know what he experienced, if anything. Was he able to think? Did his senses cease all input? Or was he still receiving data, but unable to respond? Which case would be worse? Wouldn’t it be a torturous state, either way? Was there anything Brother Anderson could do to ease the torture? Perhaps a sedative might help Colin. It was not specified in the standard treatment for coma, but he wondered if this might be a merciful act?