All the Best

“Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Pat-“

“No thank you, James,” the old man said.

The room was just coming round. Yesterday’s air sucked out, tidied and smoothed for re-use. Machines blipped and beeped awake but the old man rarely went near them.

He still wasn’t sure what they all did.

James tried again.

“Good morning Patrick, and Happy Birthday.”

“Good morning James,” the old man said.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Yes. And you?"

"Most restful, thank you Patrick"

“That's good. What time are we on?”

James thought for a moment.

“I’m sorry, Patrick. I’m afraid I can’t answer that at present.”

It was an easy mistake. Clever ones could learn idiom, slang and colloquial stuff, but there were always little things that went over their heads.

Patrick tried again.

“What time is it AT HOME James?”

“One moment … Estimated time based on all available data: GMT: 5:17 am. Sunday, May 18th 2196.”

“Thank you, James.”

The old man lit a cigarette. He always smoked first thing in the mornings.

“Patrick, I'm afraid the oxygen resurgence valves have not passed recommended maintenance for - three months, two days and seventeen hours - I strongly recommend that a senior technician oversees immediate repair. As acting senior technician, the safety of this ship, cargo and crew are your primary respo-“

“I know James, thank you. I’ll be going in a bit,” the old man said.

“Thank you, Patrick.”

Despite everything that had happened, Patrick had nothing against artificial people ... But there was one thing that bothered him about James.

His voice.

Yes, that was the one thing that really got to him.

It was something even the cleverest ones couldn’t overcome.

There was no place in his words. No highs or lows of intonation. A history of nowhere.

And you couldn’t really get away from it. James was the corridors. He was the crew quarters and the mess hall and the restrooms. You could even hear him between the fusion towers on G deck.

The old man dragged deep. Looked at the empty seats around him.

“Well, it’s my birthday today, James.”

“Yes Patrick. Happy Birthday Patrick.”

“Another year come and gone, ey?”

“Yes Patrick. Happy Birthday Patrick.”

“You know … I think I’ll have one of my presents now. Special day and all that, you know?”

The old man hadn't asked for one of those in a very long time.

James went quiet for a moment.

Oceans of faceless probabilities balanced against one another.

Algorithms darted …

Assessed …

Re-assessed …

But returned only the ones and zeros of error code.

“Patrick, Tomorrow Ltd. must insist that oxygen valve maintenance is this vessel’s immediate priority. As acting senior technician, the safe passage of this ship, in accordance with-“

“-Do you know what day it is today, James?”

“Yes Patrick, Happy Birthday Patrick.”

“Then give me my present you stupid fuck.”

There was no paperwork to go through. The old man was a child in James’s space of boundless capabilities, but he was also human and James was not.

The screen before him shuddered alive.

The first moments were jittery and muddied with static. But where the others had endless dots and data, this one went green.

Grass stretching deep and wide into the far sight. Hills rolling like emerald waves. All about the whisp and chatter of Summer.

And then the camera found him.

A little boy on his bicycle.

He was at the top of a hill. Helmeted and strapped in elbow and knee pads. There were other children too, but he was going to be first down.

The countdown started.

Three ... Two ... One ...

And the little boy started to fly. Legs working and turning the pedals.

There was somebody else in there too. Another voice.

The camera hadn’t caught it yet, but Patrick knew it was coming.

A woman in a summer dress, arms outstretched and smiling from the very middle of herself.

“And here he comes! The fastest boy in the whole universe!” She shouts. Takes him in her arms and-

The boy and his bike disappeared.

Core temperature graphs came back, folded over the greens.

Patrick had seen this one before, but it had been a very long time.

Miles away, giant engines burned away their reserves in the cold dark.

James had picked up a lot over the years. He could tell when something was wrong.

“Patrick, would you like me to go through our data on Jane again?”

“No, not today, James. Thank you.”

“Are you sure? She's just coming round."

"I'm sure. Thank you, James."

There were no windows in the crew quarters, but she hung just outside. The scanners had noted her mean distance at two hundred and thirty-five thousand miles away from the ship, about the same as the old man’s home from its moon.

She moved in slow, soundless pirouettes. One twirl for every six of earth’s.

Her surface was always shifting. Gas and dust mixing in constancy. Deep ambers giving way to tired yellows. Clouds forming pockets of shadow.

When he was a little younger (when he could commit to the two-day trek to the officer’s quarters) he would sometimes just sit and watch her from the starboard windows. He’d make shapes out of the clumps on her surface. Tigers and elephants on flying carpets. Bicycles going down hills.

Jane the planet didn’t have a real name, most of the minor rocks didn’t, but Patrick called her that because it was the first thing that came to his head.

He was sure he’d never known a real Jane.

“Patrick, I have recalculated those probabilities you asked for. Is now a suitable time?”

The old man didn’t speak. The vibrations in the vents were fading to a whistle.

“The statistical likelihood of reaching earth within the next thirty-two years has increased from seventeen percent to twenty-four. I have also reassessed the food rationing programs with pleasing-“

“No thank you, James.”

“I understand,” James said.

“Patrick ... I’m afraid the risk to life is approaching significant. At our rate of use, the air will be unbreathable in less than three days.”

“I know James, thank you. I’m going now.”

“Beyond that, failure to apply necessary maintenance by identified technicians will result in immediate disciplinary action and suspension.”

“I know. Thank you, James, I’m going now.”

“Thank you, Patrick.”

Something was happening in James. Some new thought.

It was growing from the far edges of his perfect algorithms.

It wouldn’t be long now and that wasn’t unusual, but it would be different this time.

Since his beginning, there were always others to fill a place, always other names and ways to learn. But soon, like all the others, this old man would go too and there wouldn’t be another.

This was a new obstacle for him, but nothing he couldn’t overcome.

He’d made a thorough log of Patrick’s eighty-year service in the employee performance management file. The elegant Human-A.I Collegiality program would structure a fitting speech.

Mr P. Aldridge is an employee you can always count on to get the job done. One who turns up to any job with a ‘can do’ attitude and one who truly embodies the values of Tomorrow Ltd.

We will miss him greatly and wish him all the best in his future endeavours.

Patrick started on his boots. At his pace, his back the way it was, it’d be at least three days before he got to the ship’s core. He wanted to pop in to the captain’s quarters too, grab a last bottle of something.

Patrick didn’t have clearance to be anywhere near the captain’s quarters, but James had promised to turn a blind eye. Just this once.

It was his birthday after all.