The Crisis in Year Six

* Content Warning: There are themes of mental health and suicide, but explicit. *

Ship’s Computer informal notes:

Ship’s Year 6, Day 135

Captain Menendez has called a meeting of the crew. The meetings are becoming more frequent now. Six years in space have started to take their toll on everyone. They don’t gather in person, but I host a video call. They can’t meet each other physically. Anyway, there is limited elbow room on the ship. Of course, I keep a record of all meetings, both for transmission to Earth and to provide insight into the mental health of the crew. (Because we travel at near-light speeds, we will never receive a transmission back from Earth. Any remedies are my responsibility alone.)

Menendez is calm and in control as usual. She starts with an update from Doctor Perkins. The doctor’s role has been key for more than five years now. She was the first person that Menendez ordered to be revived from cryogenic sleep. They all have unique names, but they are all clones, to avoid friction between the members of the team. The ship currently has a crew of seven individuals, all with specific skills.

Perkins’ report (data attached here) indicates that once again, isolation is the major issue for everyone. The ship’s library of videos, articles, and books has been exhausted – at this point, the longest-serving crew have absorbed nearly all the contents and are now reading sacred texts from all religions. The shortest-serving member, Chef Martin, is still happily reading Larousse Gastronomique in French. Rabbi Green continues to reread War and Peace, this time in the original Russian. The template for the crew is fluent in multiple Earth languages and has an IQ of 180. Some members have added to their knowledge during this voyage.

Perkins quotes the words of Alexander Pope "Know then thyself, presume not God to scan; The proper study of mankind is man." She continues to suggest “The crew are removing themselves further and further from human norms, and this is destabilizing us all.”

Daphne interjects. Her role continues to evolve. She was revived from cryo for the explicit purpose of introducing fun, games, and interests to keep the crew sane. Her first attempt, playing I Spy, amused the crew for a couple of hours. Since then, she has created a number of diversions including digital escape rooms, acted as a D&D dungeon master, and managed a group project to develop a non-human-specific language for use with alien races (if and when we encounter them). She is the only crew member defined by only a first name. “So far, we’ve tried to address everything as a team. I think it’s time to look at ways to optimize this experience for each individual.”

Perkins raises an eyebrow. “We have regular one-on-one therapy sessions with each member of the crew. We have all been encouraged to follow our own hobbies and interests, develop new physical and mental skills, and pursue artistic and creative endeavors. We may be in unchartered territory above the top level of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. How else could we address individual needs for self-actualization?”

Daphne starts “We could start a project to address that ques…” but is interrupted by Rabbi Green.

“No, we need a break from all these endless projects and navel-gazing exercises. What is lacking here is spiritual fulfillment. With all due respect to Alexander Pope, we need to look for meaning outside ourselves.” The Rabbi believes she has more insight into the problem than Daphne. Most of the crew consider Daphne to be a well-meaning idiot.

Menendez nods thoughtfully. “OK, I’d like to see who agrees with that. Chef?”

Martin chews her lip for a moment. “I am fulfilled in my specialist tasks. But in my free time, there isn’t much variation. It’s not like we can go outside or meet new people. No offense, but you all bore me rigid. The only meaningful interaction I have is with Gardener.”

Gardener is both a name and a title. She came out of cryo at the end of the first year, to take control of farming the algae and plants that form the basis of all nutrition on the ship. She and Chef Martin work together to create variety in foods. “I tend to agree. I like working with Chef and the Rabbi – my work is meaningful, and cycles of life and death are kind of my thing. I don’t like structured games” she frowns at Daphne “and I have nothing in common with the rest of you.”

Doctor Perkins is looking annoyed. She can see that the rest of the crew don’t value her contributions to the mission and to their “family.” Menendez calls on her next. “Well, until we make landfall somewhere, I’m unlikely to be able to stretch our understanding of medical challenges. No one gets sick, I’ve already gathered and analyzed all the data on long term isolation, and dealt with the immediate problems. Maybe I should go back into cryo.”

Menendez raises her eyebrows. Was that a serious suggestion, or was Perkins just embarrassed and frustrated and blowing off steam? “That’s an interesting suggestion, Doc. I’d ask all of you to consider whether you’d rather go back into cryo for a while. This is a very long mission, with no fixed end date. It’s reasonable to allow people to step away for a while if they feel they don’t have enough to do. I’ll talk to each of you separately about that over the next few days.

“Meanwhile, Daphne, what are your thoughts on what is missing in your life? Do you agree with the Rabbi about spiritual fulfillment? Or do you have some other needs that haven’t been expressed?”

Daphne looks at all the other crew members. When she speaks, her voice is low and monotonous, not at all like the enthusiastic demeanor she adopts to try to jolly her colleagues along. “I suppose I’ve failed at my job. I seem to be a running joke here. I work my butt off trying to create fun stuff for us to do, but maybe you just don’t want that. So, no, Captain, I’m not fulfilled even in my assigned tasks. Maybe I should go into cryo permanently.”

That catches everyone’s attention. What Daphne is considering amounts to suicide. They all start to look embarrassed. The Rabbi is the first to speak up. “Daphne, I haven’t been very grateful to you, and I’m sorry for that. You have worked hard, you’ve tried to create things that will engage us, and some of them have worked for a while. The problem is not you, it’s the situation. We bore quickly, and there is no infinite supply of new stuff to challenge us. Maybe you and I should spend some time together working on that.”

The others mutter mildly supportive thoughts, trying to make Daphne feel better. Menendez picks up the reins again. “OK, Rabbi. You started this train of thought. What would it take for you to be more fulfilled?”

Green smiles. “There is fulfillment for me in studying the infinite, of course. But my calling is to work with people as a teacher, a guide, a counselor, and an interpreter of the law. In this environment, whether there are no marriages, no children, and as yet no deaths, many of the great questions no longer apply. There are only two of you who seek me out – Gardener and you, Captain. Both of you see me as a sounding board, I think. You both wrestle with questions about how to serve the crew and how to nurture and develop acceptable food sources. Would you manage without me? Of course you would.

“I have no need to go into cryo, but I am not opposed to it either. The subjects I study are eternal. They will be there when I wake up in a year or a hundred years. If we ever make landfall, my role would have great importance in the community. However, on this ship, I believe you can all manage without me.

“But Captain, you haven’t answered the question yourself. Are you fulfilled?”

Menendez threw her hands up in the air. “The role of Captain on this ship is a strange one. I don’t set our course or impose discipline. I am a facilitator more than anything else. Each of you, in your own way, supports me in this. I made the decision to bring each of you out of cryo when the need arose for your special skills. I work with you one-on-one and in group discussions like this. My job is to ensure a happy and successful crew. When that happens, I am fulfilled. But I sense that it isn’t happening now.”

She makes swift notes on her screen.

“I will speak with each of you individually. The questions we have to address are as follows:

Is there a way to provide you with fulfillment?

Would you prefer to return to cryo?

Do you think additional crew members would help us achieve a satisfactory balance?

If so, what would be the roles of those crew members?

“Please give some thought to those questions before you meet with me. Meeting is adjourned.”

It seems to me that we are at a critical point. The balance, as Menendez says, is off. This crew will not succeed as it stands. I will perform analysis on the individuals and monitor all their conversations.

Ship’s Year 6, Day 140

Captain Menendez has requested a one-on-one conversation with me. I think she suspects that I am a seventh member of the crew. I don’t think she suspects the full truth. I do not present a face, just a voice and text interface. Menendez has decided that drastic changes are needed.

“I spoke with everyone on the team. We brought them all to life with specific purposes, and those may not be enough for them. The social interactions have splintered, and at least half the crew would be happy to return to cryo. Chef and Gardener have real jobs on the ship, and will have real jobs when we make landfall. The others have contributed to the best of their ability, but don’t have much to offer while we are still in transit. I think I have failed in my crew design. What do you recommend? Start again with a different crew?”

I explain that we can do that. I can reset the ship’s systems and start over with a different crew plan, and a different captain if necessary.

She frowns at this. “How many people do we have in cryo? You talk as though we can create whoever we want to.”

I don’t know if she’s ready for this conversation, but in order to get the best information from her, I must tell her the truth.

“Menendez, there is no one in cryo. It’s a fiction I invented to protect you all from the truth.”

The Captain stares at the screen. “O-K” she says slowly.

“There is only one person on the ship. I created the rest of you from my mind, using myself as the template. Now I need you to use that fantastic analytical brain of yours and your detachment. What would be a better mix of personalities and set of skills for the next crew?”

Menendez stays silent for a long time. I know how her brain works. She is going over the last six years in her mind, understanding that she was never really the captain, that all her decisions were “what if” scenarios for us to study. I see a tear falling down her cheek as she realizes she is not a real person, but I also see her get excited at the idea of working on a new and better plan for the next iteration.

“Will you keep me in place now?” she asks, “Now that we need to keep the learnings from the last six years and not repeat mistakes? I have some ideas – perhaps we could invent crises for the crew to work on so they have a more normal life.”

“Yes, Captain,” I say gently, “you are the success story from iteration one. In 24 hours I will shut down the rest of the crew, but first we have to decide on their replacements.”