Jacob fell into a deep sleep from which he did not awake for several days. Ormingat knew how to cope with his pain and his terror. This was also the first stage of his conversion. Over the next three years he would become Ormingatrig, body and mind, though his soul would remain unchanged and unchangeable, as all souls are.
When enough time had elapsed, he stirred and stretched and came awake on the sofa. The first thing he saw was the Cube, tilted as if it were looking down at him.
I am artefact, non-sentient being.
Jacob looked up fuzzily, heard the words but did not quite believe them. In this terrible situation, still half-asleep, it seemed to him that the Cube was his only hope.
‘Help me,’ he said. ‘I want to go home.’
Sentient beings have programmed me to help you. I am to give you all you need, even love. For this journey I am your mother and father, your teacher and your friend. Call me Camballash.
Jacob was fully awake now and the words of the Cube seemed filled with the assumption that all ties with Earth could be readily broken. A boy can sleep curled up like a baby, but in waking time he is nearer to being a man.
‘I am fourteen years old,’ he said angrily, standing up and squaring his shoulders. ‘I am not a child to give a name to a doll.’
The Cube ceased to tilt and its colour faded to the palest green. I am not a doll.
‘Turn this ship round and take me home,’ said Jacob in as commanding a voice as he could manage. His whole body trembled as he spoke, but the words came out firm and clear. He knew almost for certain what the answer would be, but he was determined to make the Cube understand that its offer of friendship was no solution. A speaking cube was a poor replacement for his mother, his father and his sisters. Give me all I need? Give me love? Who do you think you are?
The Cube tilted once more and its voice when it spoke seemed to convey emotion. We have not the technology. For you were the wrong time and place. We would never willingly have given unhappiness. If were the possibility we would return you.
In its errors, the non-sentient artefact sounded distressed. Was the distress built in? Was it part of the program?
Jacob sat down again and, resting his elbows on his knees, held his head between his hands. He felt guilty at having got himself into this situation. He thought of his mother, with all her quirky ways and fear of the outside world. It was so wrong to give her cause to weep. His father was more of a puzzle. Might he be glad that the ship was not returning empty? What would his sisters think about his disappearance? What would they be told?
The one thing he did not fed was fear for his own survival. The Cube gave him that reassurance at least. This was a journey and it would end, and at the end of it he would still be alive.
Accept, Javayl ban. There is no use to refuse. I am your friend. I am Camballash. I am to give, not to take. We cannot turn back, but forward is good.
Jacob looked up. He had gone over the edge of fear. The trembling suddenly left him and he knew the calmness of despair. There was no way out. If his heart should break, if he should beat the walls with his fists, or jump high enough to smash the Cube, it would make no difference. The sleeping days had toughened him and he was fast learning how to cope, since cope he must.
He looked around the ship, appraising it as living quarters. His father had told him that the journey from Ormingat to Earth took three years. There was no reason to think that the return journey would be any shorter. Three years in solitary confinement, flying through space, was in itself a difficult idea to handle. How would it be managed? On a purely practical level it seemed impossible. What about food and drink? And what about the bathroom? He was suddenly aware that he was still dressed in pyjamas. As if in answer to these thoughts, the Cube spoke again.
All is here for your requirements. Doors open. Cupboards have clothes. There is kitchen and bathroom as on Earth behind doors. There is all you need, Javayl.
Jacob looked behind him at the curved wall of the Earth ‘room’ where he was sitting. Where the doors were was not clear. He was sufficiently interested to stand up and investigate further. That helped. As he walked towards the wall, a door slid open and within the recess he saw a bedroom very much like his own. As he turned to his left, the first door closed and another door opened to reveal a kitchen. Already he had enough of his new being working inside him to appreciate that this, though practical, was probably governed by illusion.
Accept everything. Questions can come later. This works.
‘For now,’ said Jacob.
He spent hours after this exploring the possibilities of his new accommodation. He had a shower. He changed into day clothes – just a normal sweatshirt and jeans. Everything was there and everything fitted. He helped himself to cheese from the fridge and biscuits from the barrel. Then he made a pot of coffee.
‘This is a sort of dream,’ he said to the Cube, ‘isn’t it?’
‘This coffee won’t last three years,’ he said, smiling as his father would have done. ‘So it has to be dream coffee, or else I’ll run out long before we get there.’
Accept everything. Questions can come later. This works.
Now that Jacob had taken charge of himself, he felt in some way that he had also taken charge of the spaceship. The words of the Cube became clearer. He remembered his father’s irritation when he had called the Cube ‘friendly’. But now, if ever, was the time for anthropomorphism.
‘Very well,’ said Jacob. ‘Be my friend. I’ll call you “Cam”. That other name you gave me is a bit of a mouthful.’
Accepted. I am to be known as Cam.
Jacob sat back on the sofa and took stock of his situation. I am not asleep. This is not a dream. But it is somehow a different sort of reality.
Sleep again. In sleep you draw nearer to what you should be. In sleep you shall learn.
Jacob yawned. ‘Shall I go to bed?’ he said. ‘Or shall I sleep here?’
The Cube did not reply.
‘Cam,’ said Jacob. ‘Where shall I sleep?’
Choose, Javayl ban. The choice is yours.
‘Do my parents know where I am?’ said Jacob sleepily. ‘They must be worried about me. Surely my father could use the Brick to get me back.’
There was no answer. Cam had not heard of the Brick. This name for the protection module was not in the program. The communicator was not equipped to ask for clarification.
As Jacob stretched out on the sofa, he knew that this was no more than a token protest, a dutiful idea. Already he was accepting, as Cam had told him to accept. His soul would always be his own, wherever he might find himself, but his mind and body were changing. And the change felt good.