The Trial

Fire engulfs the storage chamber. Shadows dance on the cave wall. Sage stares into the flames, counting the seconds before the chamber walls would give in. Time dilates into a thousand snippets.

Her brain pal Teddy switches to data mode. The nano-chip implant lodged in her skull has been Sage’s best friend since her fifth birthday. They don’t need words to communicate. Video feeds and vital readings from inside the chamber rush to her occipital cortex. Electrons become information. She could “see” the cryogenic storage tank housing 5,000 human embryos. Inside the tank, liquid nitrogen holds storage temperature at -196°C, for now. Principal Hobbs, the robot headmaster conducting the Trial, raises his alloy hand, “Bring the embryos to safety. Go!” Data stream stops.

Sage needs no reminder for the obvious. Principle Hobbs runs a tight vault. Every fifteen-year-old, that means EVERYONE in her class, must go through the Trial. At the end of the three-day exercise, Hobbs will assign each student to a track: officer, warrior, and artisan. The assignment is absolute. Hobbs mentioned something about survival of the vault, and that was that.

Sage unplugs the oxygen canister from her hazmat suit and runs towards the fire. It’s dead weight when there’s no time to breathe. Embryos are irreplaceable. She must retrieve the tank before it is compromised. Heat seeps through her suit with a choking stickiness. Sage reminds herself: two minutes to get the tank out, three minutes before asphyxia; stay calm.

With her back against the melting door, Sage gives it a solid nudge. Firey tongues follow her into the unlit space, halted for a second by the cold air inside. Sage darts inside and reaches for the tank.

A shadow twitches behind the tank, a blind spot on the video feed. Sage’s heart sinks. She hates surprises. Borrowing light from the fire, she recognizes a damaged hazmat suit curled up on the floor. The figure let out a faint sigh and stopped moving. 90 seconds. Fudge.

With built-in wheels, the cryostorage tank weights a manageable 200 kilograms. Sage has 30 seconds to push it to safety. She could then return to help the figure on the floor. The math is easy. Five thousand is bigger than one. Sage steps around the motionless figure to get a firm grip of the tank. Despite the rising temperature, a chill crawls up her spine. The tank rolled reluctantly towards the door. Her heartbeat gets louder. The world disappears until all that’s left is the weight of the tank in front of her. One Mississippi, two Mississippi… Sage loses count of time as her field of vision fogs up. Is she far enough away from the fire? She can almost feel Teddy’s buzz.

“Time!” The principal’s metallic voice tears through the fog. Sage peels off the suit and takes in a deep breath. Her feet can’t seem to find balance. Fire recedes to the safety pilot. The cave starts to reset for the next trial.

“I saw a damaged suit, someone’s inside!”

“It was an illusion, part of the test.” Hobbs was ready to call the next student.

“What?!” Sage wants to shout but holds back. This too is probably part of the test.

“Trial by Fire is not just about courage. Anyone can repeat the motions, most will follow orders. An officer is responsible for the whole group, they need to make tough decisions under pressure.” Hobbs stares directly at Sage, his tone flat as ever.

Sage clenches her teeth. The Principal is always right. She decides to push her luck, “Principal Hobbs, is everything part of a program?”

“In my case, yes. If the objective is clear, I just need to optimize for the conditions.” Hobbs needs a tuneup soon. The last 15 years have caused more wear and tear to his neural network than the previous one thousand. Ever since the children started talking, he’s been burning through nuclear fuel cells like there’s no tomorrow. If only his job were simpler, like surviving a tsunami or an earthquake...

“What about me?” Sage follows.

“Biological humans don’t follow programs in the same way. You are more…” Hobbs pauses as if searching for words, “…random.”

“What?” Sage regrets it immediately. She knows what random means.

“It’s a good thing. That’s why each person is unique. Even clones…” Hobbs stops midsentence and stands up. “I’m boring you. You did well. Run along and enjoy your free time.” Hobbs presses a button to open the airlock.

Sage catches a glimpse of the Hobb’s back as she walks out. Is the robot slouching? She’d be tired if she’s running on a thousand-year-old program.

Carved deep into the bedrocks of Svalbard Island, Paradise Vault is a backup plan for life on earth. Its mainframe computer hosts a digital knowledge archive, the last relic of the Eden Era. The doomsday facility houses over 10 million biological samples of plants and animals. More precious of all, are the 100,000 human embryos, AKA the Seeds. In 2148, a comet the size of Rhode Island hit Earth, making the planet uninhabitable. Spaceships launched in all directions searching for the next colony in the stars. Hobbs’ crew were left behind to wait for the right conditions to wake up the seeds. Fifteen years ago, the awakening program was triggered. Now there are 99,700 embryos and three hundred teenagers including Sage.

An escape tunnel leads back to the safety and comfort of the living quarters of Paradise Vault. The barebone design of the tunnel also ensures complete insulation from the hazardous conditions of the Trial Cave. Sage likes the quietness.

“It felt wrong.” Only Teddy can hear her thoughts.

“For a robot, Hobbs can be mean.” Teddy quotes five-year-old Sage.

That puts a smile on Sage’s face, “It’s easier said than done, greatest good for greatest number. Are we all just numbers?”

“Sorry Sage, I can’t access the mainframe to get you an answer now.” Teddy apologizes.

Sage continues, “What am I supposed to do?”

“You do what you can.” Teddy doesn’t need the mainframe for the answer.