Fiction Miners are some of the least imaginative people I know.  When you meet people, we never think of them as imaginative or lacking in imagination.  Not at first, that is not typically one of the foremost things on your worksheet.   I never had a test for people I met for imagination.  You may think, “is this a good person?”, “is this person reliable?” or “do I want to kiss this person?”.   But imagination is something I never thought about before I became a Fiction Miner.

Imagination is a sign of intelligence.  Creativity, Visionary, Inspiration all are part of the intelligence matrix.   But Fiction Miners are not deeply imaginative.  I am not saying Fiction Miners are not smart, far from it, they are some of the most intelligent people I know.  They are problem solvers, which I suppose is a form of imagination but it is a practical type instead of fantastical.  I myself can think of twenty ways to move liquid water from a lower elevation to a higher one, but that would simply be applying different types of physics, mechanical, electrical and so forth.  You tell a highly whimsical imaginative person to move water up a hill and you might get fifty ways with only a few being practical.  Fiction Minors think inside the box, of course they use all the space in the box, they are smart, just not imaginative.  And that is why we were so blinded with this imaginative problem, we never would have thought it was possible, too outside the box.  Dumb for not having an imagination.

Now dumb people are not the problem; dumb people are on this crazy ride around the Universe just like the smart people.  Dumb people work, they reproduce, they ingest, they wear clothes and watch the vids.  My problem is I am around smart people 30/6.  So, when I forget that there are mostly dumb people in the world it changes the story.  Now I freely and gleefully acknowledge that I am not  the smartest person in the room, particularly the rooms I hang out in nowadays.

Speaking of hanging out I am currently holding a gushing hose by my teeth while hanging by a single cable off a cliff face in the Rocky Mountains trying not to be noticed in what will someday be Colorado.  I guess technically it is Colorado it just hasn’t been named that yet, ah the glamorous life of a Fiction Miner.

“Beep.”

The beep told me that the tree had enough water. Ten gallons of enriched water should enable this tree that we installed to thrive.  I pushed the button on my wrist controller to terminate the water, but it was going to take a few moments for the hose to fully drain.  I could push the retract button for the hose but then hose would shoot upwards with water still in it.  Gravity would drain it.  The water would then fall on my head.  I decided a few moments of waiting would allow me to put off a shower until I had hot water and my luffa.   I instead took in the view.

I regarded the plains and what would someday be named Kansas.  A very pretty view, particularly this year.  No manmade pollution, no natural pollution either as there had not been a  forest fire here in ten years, although from the mission brief Mount Tambora is supposed to blow its top next year, which is why we are installing the tree now before the snow falls, next winter is going to be very harsh at this elevation.

I am lucky to be seeing this. Growing up on a deep space station I would have never experienced anything like this except on vids and that is just not the same.  And I would never ever get to breath in air this crisp, clean and fresh air.  Space stations are great and all, especially if that is all you ever know, but nothing like open spaces and crisp, fresh, slightly chilled air beat recycled air hands down.   Combine that with no walls and magnificent views and I am really lucky to be here.

Some of the people I grew up with would call me lucky, I suppose genetically I am.  I am mentally sharp.  I pick up things very quickly and  I have an above average memory but the most important thing is I know how dumb I am.  While genetics may have played a part in my current ‘luck’,  I made some smart  choices along the way; I worked hard;  reading when others were watching vids, listening to educational lectures  when others were listening to music.  Making smarter choices that challenged me was my gift to myself.

The hose had emptied while I was looking out at the few puffy white clouds and contrasting grey Rocky Mountains, I hit the retract button.  I got a few drops of water on my head but by the time I joined my team up top the moisture would be an evaporated memory.

“Coming up.”  I said thumbing the comm channel and my retract button at the same time.  The winch pulled me up sixty feet per minute.  It was slow and steady but it kept the motor from overheating and we were right on schedule.    All it took was for us to do cleanup and a final assessment of the Signal and we could move to the extraction point.  I looked out at the scenery once more, the vivid greens and the deep browns and the occasional glitter of water.  Beautiful.

Fiction Miners may not have much imagination but we can still appreciate natural beauty.

We tested the Signal.  The Signal is what we are about in Fiction Mining.  You see in the Infinite Diversity of the Multiverse, where anything and everything has ever happened the Signal allows other universities to get a glimpse of that.

“Point one five APS. Being broadcast from the antenna.”  Franz announced.

Wei looked at his readout. “Confirmed.”

Liv spoke up.  “That is within normal for this area at its current population base.”

“Meaning us.”

Liv simply nodded.

I did not add anything else to the discussion.

The walk back to the extraction point was uneventful.  Except for the occasional grunt or double-checking directions no words were exchanged.  I had noted that the smarter the person the less they engage in random frivolous talk when their breath could be used in a better way of getting enough oxygen to their lungs.  Passing that same oxygen over their vocal cords to make trivial words is wasted effort.   My teammates and I were all in good shape, it was mandated and strictly enforced.   It had been nothing new to me when I  was recruited.  I had worked out habitually, and  it was also mandatory on the space station I grew up on.  My home had been founded by a German based company who took the Gestalt of Mind and Body very seriously.   It had been a coldly functional existence but one that made the transition to Fiction Mining easier.

We arrived at the extraction point ten whole minutes early.  It’s always better earlier than later.  The pilots were a mercurial lot and did not like to wait for us.  Pilots hate waiting, they are the  most emotional of all the Fiction Mining staff for some reason.  Probably something to do with having the computer do all the calculations for their courses and them having to fly it precisely. Pilots of the Infinite Ring loved precision probably why they hated it when others were late.  Piloting different realities and multiple time streams is done by a joint team of four pilots.  Don’t ask me how, I have no clue.

My team of three plus me were sitting down on a log, a rock and a mossy patch of ground waiting, We were all professional level waiters, it was something we did all the time.  Then one second the ship was not there and then it was.   It didn’t approach, it didn’t land, it was just there where it had not been a second before. That’s the way it is with Mining ships, not there and then there.   The loading ramp opened ten seconds later and Crew Chief Yen motioned for us to board. Franz and Liz were first on board, then me and last according to policy was the Captain.   Crew Chief Yen directed us into the Examination Cube, where we were weighed, scanned in all literal and figurative manner, poked and prodded, examined,  inspected, detected, and neglected. The sensors were completely and utterly through.  Examination Cubes can keep everything in and everything out when necessary.

We were allowed out of the Examination Cube after all the lights, dial, charts and graphs came up green, nothing left behind, nothing brought back without correct accountability and precise record keeping, not to mention prior written and verbal approval.

The first time I went through this I thought it was a bit excessive.  I was dumb back then; excessive details, extreme thoroughness, meticulous procedures is what makes Fiction Mining possible.   You see we only record and broadcast stories, nothing else, at least nothing that will be missed from the places, timelines and universes we mine.

We were on the extraction ship for almost an hour.  Somehow, no matter where we went, whatever timeline, whatever universe in the Infinite Rings the trip took exactly fifty-eight minutes and three seconds.  How that is possible, again I do not know.   The pilots and the computers do their job.  Rule one in traveling on a Mining Ship, never look into cockpit.  I had been warned repeatedly not to go near the cockpit but my curiosity had won out. I once took a covert glance into  the cockpit and promptly forgot my name, how to use utensils the words for clothing, bathroom and the how to say, “I am sorry I appear to have voided my bladder in my pants.”  Served me right  Now I was the most recent cautionary tale for anyone who questions the ‘No Cockpit’ policy.

I am not going anywhere near the cockpit area again.

We landed, which sounds like we set down, we were simply back on the base, like when we were picked up, the ship was not there, and now it was.  No sense of motion during the entire trip no swaying, no titling, no pitching or yawing.  Grabbing our packs, I activated our mule who took its position behind me and followed me down the ramp. The mule was a dumb robot, no personality or character, just a carrier for my tool and spare parts.  But it was a good robot, nevertheless.  Normally we went right to our bay and cleaned our gear, stowed it, and then got a couple hours of sack time.  This time there was a change.

Change from procedure is never good in Fiction Mining.

Andrew was a few feet away from the ramp.

Andrew was the Captain’s boss, my bosses boss.

Again, not good, we only saw Andrew when he dropped off an assignment and that was only for a few minutes at the beginning of mission prep.

“Wei.” Andrew started looking at my Captain.

“Andrew.”  Captain Wei said remaining his stoic self.

Andrew looked over the team one by one until his eyes came to rest upon me, tail end Charlie, the last one off the ship, then he went back to Wei. “I need Otis and the mule. Load the mule for repair duties, leaving room for spare parts. Otis will need his typical load for an interior job, standard uniform.

Wei simply nodded and asked.  “How soon?”

“In an hour.”

Wei nodded again, turned slightly towards us and stated.  “Otis clean up your person.  Franz, Liz and I will go over your personal gear  we will recharge, refresh, renew and restock the mule.”

Andrew spoke looking at me. “Otis be at my office in sixty-five minutes.”   Then he turned and walked away without another word.

I haven’t said much about my team yet besides the fact that they didn’t talk much unless it was something they found important.  Back where I grew up, I was the quiet one, the one in my group who was least likely to talk.  In comparison here I was an absolute chatter box.  Now the team was being told to clean up my gear while I cleaned up myself.   They looked around at each other perplexed and vaguely annoyed.  Not annoyed at me, just displeased at having to do someone else’s work before they could do their own work.

“What do you think this is about?”  I said walking beside Wei but loud enough for everyone to hear.

No one spoke until we were back in our bay.  Our bay was our own private area, four bunks, a large worktable that also doubled as a mess table, some specialized worktables, shelves and bins for all of our gear and clothing.   The only concession to rank for Captain Wei was he had a small desk next to his bunk.

“No ideas anyone?”  I said after we were all in our bay.

Wei simply shrugged.

Liv smiled. “Probably some new training for you.”  She said this as she helped me take off my harness containing my gear, canteen, tool pouches, bayonet, gun in holster and food pouches.

Franz shrugged but then added.  “Maybe they are reassigning you.”  He was unloading the mule and laying out all the gear precisely on the table before he checked it.

Captain Wei spoke up.  “No sense hypothesizing, he will find out in an hour.”  He turned towards Franz. “Start charging the mule so it is topped off for whatever Otis needs it for.”

I nodded.  I trusted them to do the basics with my gear and I stripped down to my briefs and went to shower and take care of other hygienic matters.  I was back in twenty minutes and got a clean standard uniform out of my locker and was dressed in another five down to another pair of boots. Standard uniform meant no extreme temperatures or hazards.  I started going over my harness and its assorted pouches to ensure everything was just like I liked it.  Yes, Liz was my friend and I trusted her, but this was my gear, thus my life depended on it.  One had nothing to do with the other.

Captain Wei turned on music while cleaning and inspection were occurring.  How did I know Wei had turned on the music?  Because it was Beethoven playing or maybe it was Brahms or Schubert.   I was not a classical guy but I could appreciate it even if I cannot always identify it.  Besides it was Wei’s turn.  Liz had her choice before the mission, Guitar and Piano compositions, and when our next mission came up it would be Franz’s turn, Instrumental Jazz, before and me afterwards, Blues guitar and some eclectic instrumental tunes.  It saved a lot of arguing about what to listen to during prep and recovery time.

Like normal times there was very little talking, we all knew what needed to be done, just simple acknowledgements of tasks done, equipment loaded.  I yawned once during the preparations and Liz without asking got a me a coffee which I thanked her with a nod.  We had all been up for about thirty hours and it looked like it was going to be even longer for me.  Once the last checklist was completed for both me and the mule, I nodded to everyone and hit the sign above the door as tradition, it had been there before I got there and would probably be there after I left, I kind of hope this was not my final exit.  “Every team writes its own story.”  By someone named Martin Brodeur

The mule followed me down the corridors to Andrew’s office.  Andrew was a Major, but everyone just called him Andrew.   Rank was never a big deal around here, we were all adults, all very calm sedate individuals, just doing our jobs.  Sometimes I wondered about that, why was everyone so calm and reasonable, maybe it was the recruitment process, weeding out ‘wild cards’.

It took me a few minutes and one lift up to Andrew’s office.  I checked myself one more time, not the uniform, just my gear.  I hit the announcement button and the door opened.  I had been in Andrew’s office exactly once before; the day I arrived.  It hadn’t changed, desk, nothing adorning the walls, Andrew behind it the aforementioned desk.  But behind him and in the left corner of the office leaning against the wall was a dark-haired woman with her arms crossed and a stern look on her face that did not change as I entered.

“Tech Otis reporting.”  I said standing in front of his desk.  We did not salute in Fiction Mining even though we had military rank structure.

Andrew did not look up from his monitor.  “One minute Otis.”  He said with a raised finger.

I shrugged and checked on my mule who was just behind me and  slightly to the left.

“How long you been on the installation team Otis?”  The female asked as a curt introduction.

“Two Sol Months.” I said trying to keep my face neutral although my curiosity was running amuck in my head.  ‘Who was she? Was she Andrew’s boss? Did she know why I was here?  Where did she get her incredible brown eyes?  Did she like men, if she liked men what kind of music did, she like them to listen to?’  You know all the important stuff.

“At ease Lieutenant.” Andrew said lowering his monitors into his desk.  “There will be time for introductions later.”   He hit a button and two chairs came out of the wall and aligned with his desk.  “Sit you two.”  I took the chair on the right and she moved to the one on the left.  The mule stayed where it was.

Lieutenant, that meant technically she was the same rank as me, Tech was just a specialized designation, but it equaled a Lieutenant in pay and privileges.  She was just on track to be a Captain, a team leader, whereas I would always remain a Technician.  I am just not that ambitious.

“Otis this is Lieutenant Harley she was on Team Gamma, but now that it is standing down due to retirements, she is now in a trouble shooting role she is also trained as a medic.”

I nodded towards Harley simply nodded back.  Gamma Team was a much more senior team then mine, from what I understood two members were retiring and the team would be reformed.  I wondered if Harley would be its new captain.

“Harley, Otis is the Technician from Lamba Team he is very fresh from training and grew up on a space station which might prove helpful on this mission.”   Without looking at me she nodded.

This was a shocking piece of information; every mission I had ever heard took place in wilderness settings away from the things of man.  A space station is in no way natural not a single portion was not manmade or at least man placed.

Andrew hit a button and two screens came out of his desk, one for each of us. “The situation is this, The Broadcast Station is located at a nexus location, suspended in space where it gives us the ability to broadcast easier along the Infinite Rings.  No broadcasts since 2838 hours something has gone wrong there and I need you two to go there and determine what is going on.”

“How is that possible?”  I said.

Harley sounded as shocked as I was but she asked a relatively intelligent question. “No clue what is wrong?”

“No two hours and counting said showing the count clock.”  Andrew said.

“The Broadcast Station is supposed to maintain constant and continuous feeds with all other Fiction Mining locations.” I said repeating a portion of the manual I had read in training.

“Correct Otis,”  Andrew hit a button and a diagram of the broadcast station was displayed. “The Broadcast Station has been out of contact with Mining Control for two solar hours, no warning, no change in feedback up until 2838 hours than nothing.”

“Any ships in or out in that time?”  Harley asked.

“No, the last ship there was four solar days ago, and none were scheduled to arrive for another two solar days.  Nothing out of the ordinary noted by the ship’s sensors or its crew, all normal when they left.”

I was stumped, Fiction Mining Technology was the sturdiest tech in the Infinite Rings, with four backups for every primary system and two substitutes for secondary systems.   My fingers flew over the diagrams of the stations.   Communication and power were primary systems.  Hardened, over engineered, robust, resilient.    The Broadcast Station was massive, not because it had a big crew, the crew only consisted of thirty personnel. It was massive because it had four power plants, along with four redundant communication arrays, and four life support systems.

“What was going on out there?”  I said out loud.

“That is why you too are going out there in twenty minutes.”  Andrew stated. “You are going to draw carbines; your survival suits are being loaded onto a ship now.   The ship we are sending you on is unmanned, direct transit to The Broadcast Station, no need for pilots. Teams Omicron and Phi are preparing now to back you up and will be sent on your signal.”

“Carbines sir?”  Harley said beating me to the punch.  We had all been trained in the shortened rifles but I had not seen anyone ever carrying one on a mission or even here at Mining Prime.  Heck we only carried pistols as a precaution, there was no record of a Fiction Mining team member drawing there weapon on a mission, ever.

“Be prepared is not just a motto of the Scouts.”   Andrew stated with no irony.

“Sir the crew compliment there is thirty personnel, are there thirty personnel there now?”

“When the supply ship was there four days ago, there were thirty-one personnel, they dropped off a new trainee.”

Harley spoke before I did.  “Can we see the personnel file on that Trainee?”

Andrew nodded.  “Our thoughts exactly, he is the one new factor in the equation, although as carefully as we recruit, I did not see anything that stood out from his record.”  The file now appeared on the screen with the Trainee’s picture.  ‘Peter McCelland, recruited from 3145 from Earth 214.’   I noted that Peter was born twenty years after I had been recruited and Earth 214 was the newest terraformed project, somewhere out near Saiph.

Both Harley and I looked through the file.  It all seemed like pretty standard stuff, he was a Logistics Tech, in other words he ran a forklift.  Aside from him growing up on a planet his file read surprisingly like my own.  High scores, tech and science scores, no close family ties, no entrepreneurial skills or inclinations and his record of his sexual desire leaned more towards homosexual whereas I was more heterosexual, but other than that I could be looking at my file. His fiction intake score was extremely low like most other Fiction Mining personnel.

Fiction Intake is basically how much you like to ingest made up stories.  Back home a big event was movie night, the newest release from some digital creation company with real live people acting or at least really high-end AI.  My old friends went through a period of consuming old classics from authors like Tolkien,  J.K. Rowling, or Forringer.  Then there was old movie nights from people like Sterling, Smith or Lucas, I was always at a loss the next day at lunch.

We Fiction Miners don’t have ‘movie night’, on my team we had ‘Silent Reading Hours’.   Low Fiction Intake was something recruiters looked for, we typically read very little literature, novels and short stories, we don’t consume many films, movies or holographic entertainment.   During our off-duty hours, we consumed technical journals, engineering schematics, and the occasional biography of you guessed it scientists and engineers.  Science journals and physics for fun.

While we don’t read much fiction, are job is to help ensure everyone has fiction.

Say you live in a time where your planet has not yet developed space travel, the Signal is a way for writers and storytellers to imagine space travel.  Way back on old Earth a guy named Jule Verne was psychically tuned into the Signal, subconsciously of course, he then wrote ‘From the Earth to the Moon’.  Or Mary Shelly writing about Dr. Frankenstein and his animation of dead flesh via science.  Well, those things actually happened on other planets in other universes.  The Signal which is broadcast by Fiction Miners out into the Multiverse so that writers can get fantastical ideas that they use to write new stories.

Now those stories inspire other stories, and those stories also inspire people of scientific mindset to apply what they learn to practical applications.   Fiction Miners give the story tellers a boost, who then give scientists the inspiration to go to their local moon and beyond.

“Nothing jumps out about him.” Harley observed.  I nodded quietly in agreement.

“Anything special you think you might need?”  Andrew asked.

“Environmental suits are being loaded?”  I asked.

A subdued tone sounded on Andrew’s desk.  “They are now loaded.”  He stated.

I shrugged.

Harley nodded. “I think we are ready sir.”

We all rose and walked down to the hangar area.  My mind was racing as I was sure the other people who knew about this situation.  “What could have gone wrong?” “Was the silence intentional or accidental?” “Was this Peter the cause and if so, how could one Logistic Tech take a The Broadcast Station off-line?”  “Did I remember how to load a carbine?”  “Was Harley her first or last name?”

Okay those last two thoughts were probably mine alone.

We arrived in the hangar bay and approached our ship.  A supply ship, slightly larger than one we used on missions, but with the same basic configuration.  Normally there would be a Crew Chief in charge of loading and unloading both passengers and cargo.  This one had three doing various checks and from the briefing I knew they were not coming with us.

The ships could be sent from one known Fiction Mining location to another with an automatic setting.

Although what bothered me about this trip was not the destination but the unknown circumstances at the destination.

Andrew spoke up.  “You will travel in survival suits, inside the Examination Cube.” He paused.  “It is the most shielded part of the ship, and your survival suits will add another layer of protection if it is necessary.”

“Otis you want to help me check the survival suits?”  Harley asked.

“Uh sure.”  I followed her up the ramp and to the modular systems that rested right where the ramp would close.  We went through the whole checklist for six suits on board.  Yes, there were only two of us, but like they say, “one is none, two is guaranteed fun, three is glee”.  Meaning it is always good to have backups.

Andrew just stood at the bottom of the ramp as we did our checks.   Then after that was done and I had secured the mule we went to the armory window and drew out carbines, giving our thumbprints to show receipt.  We loaded them together to Harley’s count and locked them into safe, power down modes.  After locking in the carbines in their chargers for transit, we both looked at each other, I shrugged, she shrugged.

We went down the ramp to where Andrew was.

“That is, it sir.”  Harley stated.   I simply nodded.

“Okay once you land on the station the ship will broadcast each and every utterance and statement you make.”

“Otis your mule will be outside the Exam Cube, and you will guide him to do any tasks via wire control from inside the Cube.  Harley you will have control of the ships sensors and scanners once you land to determine if the environment is safe before you leave the protection of the Cube.  You will then log into the command system of the station; there are numerous layers to get through so it should take a while.”

Harley nodded.

“Otis you are to use the mule to check out the landing bay before you leave the Cube, is that clear?”

“Agreed sir.”  I nodded again.

“The ship has been programmed to make a full scan and sensor sweep of the hangar bay upon arrival.”

“Understood sir.”  We both stated.

“After that it is up to you to decide what course of action to take.”  Andrew stated.

“Understood sir.”  Harley said.  I nodded after a second.  Only one of us was to leave and with Harley in charge and in control of the ship that meant I would be the first out of the ship.  Lucky me.

“Okay.”  Andrew said, unsure of himself. “Good luck.”  He turned and left the bay.  We retracted the ramp and Andrew’s voice came over the intercom.  Launching in five, four, three, two, one.

As with all Fiction Mining ships, there was no feeling of motion, no heavy Gs, no sense of moving.

What had I gotten myself into? And why me?

“Checklist?”  Harley asked.

“Let’s get to it.” I responded.

It was an extended checklist.  We did all the normal stuff, then we went into the hostile interior environment checklist.

I am not sure who thought up these lists,  but they take a lot of time.  After all the checklists were done, we suited up helping each other put on the survival suits, which contain air, heat, and recycling abilities for up to 24 hours in the hostile environment of hard vacuum, sub-zero to high temperatures that would boil synthetic oil.  Amazing pieces of equipment.  We than carefully made our way into the Examination Cube and sat down on the benches.   I gave a thumbs up and Harley nodded at my signal.

Andrews voice came over our speakers.  “Arrival at The Broadcast Station in ten minutes, no change in situation.”

I shrugged at the news trying to appear nonchalant.  Although Harley had the nonplussed routine down as well and gave a curt nod.   I personally wanted to say, ‘Can we discuss this a little bit further?’  But no sense getting emotional at this point.

This would be a suitable time to mediate.  I looked at Harley and she appeared to be meditating.  With her eyes closed I finally had a few seconds to look at her without being observed.  She was pretty in kind of tom boyish way, short dark hair, everything in good proportion, nose, eyes, mouth.  I saw her eyes flutter open, so I closed my eyes and took several calming breaths.  I had gotten up to a count of ten inhalation and exhalations and began again at one.  I was in a nice grove of counting breaths when Harley kicked my suited leg.  “We landed.”

I shook my head in my suit, cracking my neck and recapped my situation out loud

“Oh yeah taking an unmanned ship into a potentially dangerous situation, not knowing what took a seemingly unbreakable space station down.  The space station being in an impossible to get to location except for someone with the same technology.”

Harley rolled her eyes and simply grunted as she was busy with her control panel looking over the station.  “Initial videos from ship’s feed looks good, nothing out of the ordinary.”  She hit the broadcast button. “Arrived, sending you ships video feed now.”  She hit a few other buttons on her screen. “Lights at normal settings, temperature at normal levels, radiation levels normal. Further scanning ongoing for chemical and biological agents.”

The voice of Andrew came back.  “We are receiving data as well; everything appears to be normal so far.”

I waited and watched my own panel, this landing bay was laid out exactly like the one we just left, the only difference was the name on the wall, Broadcast Station, Bay 2.  I saw something and motioned for Harley and she let me take control of one exterior camera.   I moved the camera back a bit and zoomed in. “Ah folks we have what looks like a pile of clothes near airlock two.”

I heard Harley take a deep breath in surprise.

I paused to let everyone see I noticed and then I began to zoom in slowly taking in the details.

“While they were in one pile, they are not folded or placed in any organized manner.”  Harley narrated.  “Looks like a jump suit, possibly a Crew Chief by the insignia.”

I did not see the insignia at first because it was upside down, but after her declaration I recognized the symbol.

A beep came from her screen.  “No biological or chemical abnormalities.”

“Sound or other things such as infrared, microwave, radio or other things in the unseen spectrum?” I asked.

“Have to reconfigure the sensors give me a minute.”

I continued with the cameras first one than another till I had used all twenty-three cameras on the ships exteriors.   Nothing out of the ordinary were present except the pile of clothes, which I viewed from several angles but that did not reveal any additional clues.  “Hmmm that is strange.”  I stated out loud.

The voice of Andrew responded before Harley could. “What is it, Otis?”

“The jumpsuit appears to be by itself.  No boots, no socks, nothing else.  Either someone carried the jumpsuit there or the individual was not wearing shoes and socks when they stripped out of it.”

Andrew did not say anything about my observation and Harley spoke up. “Silent out there except for normal ventilation sounds and standard electrical hums, nothing in the unseen spectrum except that The Signal is off the chart.”

I looked at my screen and let out a low whistle.  “I would say, it’s at least one hundred times what  The Signal should be.”

The Signal is what we mined.

When we put up antennas, like the last one we had installed on the cliff face disguised as tree, it received and then transmitted the Signal.  The Signal is a psychic wave generated by the people in each reality.   Stories make up the substance of the psychic signal.  There is an old adage that stories have a life of their own.  Stories are incredibly powerful. People learn by stories, cautionary tales warn people, creation sagas give people meaning, heroic narratives create examples to live up to.  Fables, myths, yarns, even gossip are part of the psychic wave that make up the Signal.

Someone really, really super intelligent somewhere, possibly a thousand or even a million years from my future firgured out how to intercept the psychic wave, and how important they were to the universe.  In order for the stories to cross from one universe to another Fiction Mining was created, thus the need for people like me to Mine Fiction.

Before Fiction Mining, stories leaked through from one Universe to another by chance.   Fiction Mining just supports the leaks, increases the psychic seepage, it multiples the trickle of stories via the Signal.  The Signal helps fledging civilizations think up new things, the Signal also helps provide safeguards to cultures about bad ideas.  How many stories are out there about giving too much power to unemotional computers, or tampering with nature, or losing one’s humanity in the pursuit of pure knowledge?  These things have happened in other Universes and the Signal has allowed other Universes to understand the implications of these dangerous practices through stories.

“Why is there so much Signal here?”  Harley asked.  It was a question I was asking, as well as Andrew and whoever else was with him back at Mining Control.

I pulled up the blueprints of the space station and highlighted where the Signal was received and transmitted.  The Signal was collected at the base of the space station, checked, calculated and counted along in the Main Conduit  on the way to the top level where the broadcast went out to the Infinite Ring.  I looked to the readings of the Signal.  Normal broadcast from this station was 200 Anecdotes Per Second (APS).  Background APS for any location in the Universe is about 10 APS.  I stopped and looked up the last monthly readings of APS for this particular location, it was typically 12 APS.   Now outside of the ship the reading was 126 APS and climbing.  In the time we had been sitting here it had climbed to 127 APS.

“Harley what is the APS in the ship and also inside the Cube?”

It took her a few keystrokes to pull up the information.  “Inside the ship it is 20 APS, and inside the Cube it is 16.”

“So.”  Andrew’s voice came over the channel.  “APS is not dangerous; it is just gives people ideas.”

I knew that we all knew that.  The Signal is harmless, and it only reaches people that are asking themselves ‘what if’.  ‘What if I had a really big red dog?  What if there was a place where animals talked?  What if there was a Jello that ate a small town?’

There was silence in our Cube and from the radio.   All Fiction Miners have basic scientific training.  And right now, we were all processing the variables and the constants.  In the light of the information and with no other logical explanation we were all coming to the same conclusion, ‘the Signal’ in high concentrations did something to the station’s personnel.

Harley saw a change and brought it to our attention. “21 APS in the ship, and 17 APS in the Cube.”

“We need more information and we need it soon.”  I announced as I stood and reached for the door control panel.

“Wait.”  Harley ordered.

“I turned towards her.  “No time, I am going out, my guess is whatever is going on it is a cumulative effect, the longer we wait and are bombarded with this much Signal the worse it is going to get.  We need to go find out what is going on.”

“So, send the mule.”  Harley stated.

“I have a feeling that whatever has gone wrong we are going to need a person to fix it, and probably fix it right away, the mule is just a tool carrier.”

Harley spoke up. “You feel?  Otis that makes no sense.  The sensible thing is send the Mule on a slow methodical scouting mission.  Gather information while we remain inside the Cube, shielded as much as possible from excessive Signal.”

The voice of Andrew came over the speaker.  “We here at Control concur with Harley.”

I simply shook my head.  “I have got to go.”  I said and unhooked my suit from the power connection.

I saw conflict on Harley’s face.  Mentally, logically, procedurally she knew I should not go, but I could see that emotionally she agreed with me. I shivered inside my survival suit, I was not feeling normal.  I was feeling; well, I could not really describe what I was feeling, it was some sort of certainty that I had never felt before.  “I need to go.”  I hit the button to exit the Cube and before Harley could speak, I was outside the Cube and closed the door behind me.

I heard some discussion between Harley and Andrew; I ignored it and hit the emergency release buttons for the disembarkation ramp.  Nothing could override the emergency release although I heard Andrew order me not to leave the ship.  I activated the mule to fall in behind me and as soon as the ramp was down, I strode out into the empty landing bay.  I made a beeline for the pile of clothes and looked over it, it had not changed and there was nothing new from my new in person vantage point.  I picked up the jumpsuit with my gloved hand and read the name stitched above the pocket, Gekko.  I didn’t need to tell Andrew to look up Gekko’s record, it would already be happening as they were seeing what I was seeing.

“Gekko was a Flight Support Technician, nothing significant in his record, been on the station for three-sol years.”

I dropped the jump suit and made my way towards the closest exit.   I studied the controls, they were not set to lock mode, just regular operations.  “Going to open the door.”

Harley’s voice came over the comm.  “How are you feeling Otis?”

I stopped with my hand about the hit the open button.  I hadn’t thought about it until just now.  I thought about it.

“Otis are you okay?”

I shook my head; I had for a split second  heard a thousand voices speaking all at once in my head.  And just as suddenly they were silenced when I heard Harley’s voice loud and clear.  I looked ahead and realized I was down on my knees now looking up at the control panel.

“Yeah, that was weird.”   I stood again as I spoke.

“What, what was weird Otis?”  Harley asked.

I shook my head, I did not want to think about what had happened, so I lied. “I got dizzy.”

There was a pause.  “You had a huge spike in mental activity just now.”

Harley and Andrew were monitoring my vitals, but they could not hear my thoughts, probably better if they did not know I was hearing voices in my head.  “Opening the door.”  I said as I punched the green button.  The door slid open with ease just as it was designed to do.   There in the corridor was a person we later identified as Gekko.    I was not sure if he was alive or dead at first, but I was sure he was naked.  He was lying on his back, his arms straight down at his side.  I looked at him over from head to toe.  There were no visible wounds, no marks, no blood, no obvious signs of violence.  I looked at him closely, he was breathing, barely, I got closer to his face and saw his eyes were open but I could tell he was not seeing anything, just a glassy stare seeing something on the ceiling, or maybe on something a thousand meters past the ceiling.

Harley spoke up in my ear.  “Otis, run you handheld scanner over him.”

I was about to do that when a blast of voices came rushing through my head again, this time it wasn’t as shocking and I remained on my feet.

“Your brain activity just spiked again.”  Harley stated.

“I am fine.”  I activated the scanner on my left arm and ran it from his feet upwards.

“Go back over his head Otis.”  Harley instructed me after my first pass.  “Interesting.”  She stated.  She had a better display then I did.

“What is it?”  I asked.

“His brain activity is off the charts, and it is constant from your first scan to the next.”

“Brain activity is never constant, it has its peaks and valleys.”

“Not this guy.”

I scanned his head again and left it on him for a few seconds.

“Same results.  His vitals are dropping, it looks like he has been laying here for about three hours, heart and respiration rates are like he is in a coma.

“Do coma patients have much brain activity?”   I asked, thinking I already knew the answer.

“Not typically but this fellows stuff is off the charts like I said earlier.”

I paused and looked around the corridor not seeing anything else of interest or out of place.

“Okay I have to leave this  guy here, I can’t do anything for him right now, but maybe I can find the cause of all this.”

Andrew’s voice came through the comms. “Well, we can’t control you, so I guess we will support you, Otis.  Continue your investigation.”

“Heading towards the Main Control Center.”  I said.  I had taken no more than twenty steps when the voices came back into my head and this time there was a series of images, thousands of pictures flashing in my head, like I was seeing them in person but I realized my eyes were closed and I was again on my knees.”

“Otis, Otis are you okay?”  The concern in the female voice was obvious. I could not place the name, but then Harley’s face came to mind and I remembered her name.

“Ah yeah.”  I said getting back up.  “Did my brain activity spike again?”

“It doubled from the last spike.  Are you okay?”

I got slowly to my feet.  “Yeah, I was hearing voices in my head, now I am seeing pictures in my head.”

“Delusions?”  The cold emotionless voice of Andrew came through my headset.

I shook my head. “No more like a series of pictures inside my head, I am not seeing things, more like a projection of images in my mind’s eye, not a coherent or predictable images, just thousands of voices and now thousands of flickering images of everything and anything that existed both real and imaginary things, it’s hard to concentrate on any one thing.”

No one spoke on the comms.  I thought maybe Harley and Andrew were talking on a private channel.  “But I am still heading towards the Main Control Center, hopefully we can get some answers there.”

The voice of Andrew came over the headset.  “Otis continue to the Main Control Center, Harley what is the APS at his location.”

Harley came back after a few seconds.  “Unsure not a lot of sensors for APS at that location, it is only monitored at a few spots on the station.”  Another pause from Harley.  “I might be able to get a reading from Otis’s suit with a few reprograming patches.”

Andrew’s voice came back.  “We will reprogram Otis’s suit you continue to work on station controls.”

I clumped steadily towards the elevator in the Environmental Suit.  The elevator door opened and I motioned for it to take me to the Main Control.  “Clearance code please.”  The security system stated in its standard mechanical voice.

“Harley clearance code please.”  I asked.  A few seconds later the code came through on my wrist screen and I started to punch it in, that is when a new wave of sensations hit.  Before it had been sound, and then sights, and now smells kicked in.  Pleasant, sour, stinky, sweet, earthy, antiseptic, everything all at once, overwhelming.  But I knew they weren’t real, nothing could enter or leave the environmental suit, it was proven technology.

“Otis!  Otis!  Can you hear me?”  The voice of Harley came through my earpiece.

I waved my gloved hand in front of my masked face, a truly futile and pointless gesture as I knew it was all in my head what had just happened.

“Otis respond.” Harley’s voice ordered.   “Are you another episode?  Your brain activity is spiking again.  Otis respond.”

“I am here.”  I stopped waving my hand pointlessly.  “I am fine, but a little put off, the past episodes were audible, visual but now they olfactory.”

“You are smelling things now?”  Harley said with a confused tone.

“Bingo.”

“Anything good?”  Harley said in a playful tone I thought trying to lighten the mood.

I shrugged in my suit. “Everything all at once, good, bad, indifferent, fair, intolerable, corrupt and everything in between.”

“All at once?”

“All at once, all in my head.”

“Weird.”  Harley said.

The voice of Andrew came over the channel. “I hate to tell you this Harley, but you are most likely going to start experiencing what Otis is going through, your brain activity is growing and possibly when you hit a spike like Otis has you will start having experiences like him.”

There was silence and I continued to punch in the security codes before I had another episode.

“So, the Signal is getting into the ship, and the Examination Cube.”   Harley observed.

“At a slower rate, but Medical here theorizes that the Signal is causing the increase in brain activity which is causing the delusions.”

The elevator started to move.  “And that is what is effecting the crew here?”

“That is the theory.”  Andrew affirmed.

“I got into the first level of the stations controls but it is going to take me a while to get into subsystems.”  Harley stated.

“Life scans seem to indicate all assigned personnel are in the same physical state as Technician Gekko.”

“Are they all naked as well?”  I asked.

“Unknown.”  Harley responded distracted.

“So, no one is conscious on the station except you and me?”

“Correct.”  Harley answered. “Uh oh.”

“What?” I asked.

“All vital signs are trending downward, if things don’t change within the next hour they are going to die, their hypothalamus is working overtime processing the overdose of the Signal.”

The elevator came to a stop.  The screen showed that I was at the Control Center.  “The door is not opening.”

I heard Harley doing some keystrokes.  “Extra lockdown is in place due to all persons in the Control Center being unconscious.”

“Is that new?”

“No just something that is hardly every implemented, we have never had any emergency situation before.”  Andrew stated.

The next security code came through and I started to input it.  I punched in the last digit and the door opened quietly and efficiently.   I stepped out and saw five people lying on the floor.  Most of them had their clothes on, a few had clothes in disarray like they were trying to take them off, one had both sleeves off, another had just one boot off and her pants were dropped but were stuck because she had not taken off her other boot.  The commander was sitting behind her desk almost at a position of attention, but her eyes were closed.

I knew everyone else was seeing what I was seeing so I did not feel the need to narrate.

“Anecdotes Per Second at your location is at 138.”   Harley reported.

“What is it at the Landing Bay outside the ship?”

Harley responded. “130 and still climbing.”

“So, its higher here?”  I asked rhetorically.

There was a pause.  “139 at your location now.”  Harley stated.

I was about to ask another question but I couldn’t because all of sudden my taste buds were assaulted with every flavor I had ever had or might ever have; sweet, sour, salty, bitter, and umami.
I did not think I had anything in my stomach somehow my digestive tract was activated and a vomited copious amounts of stomach rejects.

Throwing up is never pleasant.   Vomiting in an environmental suit is doubly unpleasant.
Luckily, I have been trained for this scenario many times.  But I panicked.  Whenever the things inside your gastrointestinal tract are suddenly on the outside through forceful involuntary muscular contraction add to that those contents are then trapped on your face contained by a plexiglass bubble without an escape mechanism.  Like I said I panicked, ripping off the helmet with practiced ease from countless repetitions.

I had thrown up in my environmental in training twice before, syrup of ipecac after a spaghetti lunch and the second time a spicy plate of nachos.   The nachos were not so bad, the spaghetti was worse mostly because of the amount I ate.  I had never panicked on either occasion.

But this time I did. Maybe it was the APS overdose.  Normally removing your helmet will be a death sentence especially in a vacuum, but since I was in a space station with healthy temperate atmosphere it was just gross, but a relief.  After scraping my face and spitting out what was in my mouth, I realized what I had done.  And then I heard the voice in my ear.

“Otis.  Otis report. Otis report.”

The voice was Harley yelling.

“Otis are you alright, I am reading a helmet removal of you suit.”

I spit one more time and activated my comm.  “I am here; I am okay.  I had another sensation overload.”

I heard a sigh of relief.  “Did you remove your helmet or was it compromised?”

Now I sighed. I was going to get written up for this, breaking safety regulations, panicking, possibly going for retraining, at the extreme case fired for being unsuitable for missions.  “I removed it, I vomited.  The APC overdose brought on a taste sensation overload and my stomach contents did not like it.”

There was a long pause.  “Well, I am reading normal atmosphere in all areas of the space station so you suit being compromised is not that big a deal, no biological or chemical aspects to be concerned about.”

I nodded slightly to myself.  “Okay.”   I thought for a second. “These episodes are coming quicker and quicker.”

“And your brain activity, and mine is increasing gradually with no abatement.”

I shook my head again.  “We need to figure out where the Signal leak is coming from, have you been able to map the APS in the station.”

“Just a second that report is being complied now.”  Harley stated.

I took a sip of water from my suits drinking straw and spit again, the taste of rejected stomach contents was almost gone.

I heard a sound over the channel.  It was the sound of someone doing the very act I was just recovering from.   “Harley are you okay?”  I heard some coughing and spitting.

“Yeah, I just had a sensory experience, every smell I have ever smelled and some really weird ones.”

“And that activated your gag reflex.”  I calmly declared having experienced it myself.

I heard Harley take a deep breath then spit.  “The highest concentration of APS is two decks down in the area of the central hub.”  There was a pause.  “Warehouse area.”

I pulled up the schematics on my wrist screen.  “I am enroute.”

I got into the elevator in the control center and I had a new experience with two sensory overloads at once.  Sights and sounds at the same time, and they were in no way shape or form synchronized.    I found myself on the ground after the sensations passed.  I stayed on my side just breathing with my head pounding.  I wanted to report this development but my tongue was tied up in knots, like I could not form words. Is this what happened to everyone on the station before they became comatose?  Overwhelmed by their senses or at least the perception of senses.  Their brains overloaded with APS experiencing multiple aspects of the human experience that were contained within a story.

The door opened on the warehouse deck and I stumbled out.  Stumble might be an exaggeration, somewhere between a crawl and a drag if I am being honest.  My balance rallied and I made it to the wall and used it to lift myself up.  I looked around at the space; crates, organized, boxes stacked, bins filled and a forklift stuck in the wall.

“Harley, I think I found the problem.”   I said almost falling over.

“What?”  Harley replied back weakly.

“There is a forklift stuck in the wall piercing the main conduit.”

“How?”

“Well, there appears to have been a dead person driving it?”

“How do you know he is dead?”  The weak voice of Harley came back through my earpiece.

“Well, if he is alive, he ain’t happy, he looks like he got cooked from the inside out.”

“Crispy huh?”

“Yeah.”   And I promptly fell over, vomiting the little bit left in my stomach when both taste and smell overwhelmed me along with sounds.  Thousands, perhaps millions of perceptions flooded through my brain.  And this time instead of stopping there they only subsided.  My brain was on fire.  Which did not make sense as the brain has no pain receptors in it.  The brain doesn’t hurt, but mine did. “Ouch.”

“Headache?”

I simply moaned in response.  “Can you shut down the Main Conduit and all power to this level.”

There was a pause. “Power is no problem; the Signal is a little trickier.”

Andrew finally spoke up. “We cannot cut the Signal.”

Harley spoke up. “Why?”

Andrew’s unstrained voice came back. “If we cut off the Signal we lose the whole station, we would have to reinitialize it, which would entail ripping out the whole main conduit and replacing it.  It would be easier to build a new station.”

“So.”  I said weakly.

“If the Signal stops, that means the APS stops, ideas stop ‘popping’ into people’s heads.  Stories stop happening, heros stop being created, villains stop being defeated. Inspiration moves a standstill, progress slows, down, the Infinite Ring stops progressing.”

Harley spoke up. “Is that true?”

Andrews voice came back. “Probably.”

It was then that the lights went out.  But luckily like most space stations when the power went out the emergency lights came on. “Thanks Harley.”

I started forward weakly towards the forklift embedded in the wall.  I was halfway there when something new happened.  My sense of touch went into overdrive, itch, pleasure, pressure, stabbing, roughness, softness  Every sensation your skin had ever felt, everything you might feel on every inch of skin.  My head exploded, metaphorically speaking.  I closed my eyes and rolled over on my back. Now I knew why some people had removed their clothes.

Harley came on. “You are about to red line, I don’t think you can take much more.”

I spoke. “Well, we know what the problem is, if I can’t get the forklift out of the wall, it will be up to you.”

There was nothing from Harley but I thought I heard a heavy sigh.  I couldn’t feel anything because my head was pounding with every beat of my heart.  I closed my eyes and made my way to my feet with my eyes still closed facing towards the forklift from memory.   My feet moved, at least I told them too, I shuffled along.  I alternated from one eye to the other, taking turns with each.  Going from one crate to a box, to a crate as a railing.  I thought I heard Harley saying something but my head was too full.

Now all the senses were coming in waves, never really stopping, touching, hearing, smelling, tasting and seeing.

Then blackness.

“Otis?”

My head was in severe pain as I came out of the blackness I had fallen into.

“Otis.”

Who was calling me out of the blackness, the blackness where there was no pain. I wanted to stay in the black.

“Otis wake up.”

Then someone hit my face.

“Ouch.”  I heard my mouth say.

“He is coming out of it.”  I heard the same voice who had been calling my name before.

“Leave me alone.”  I was able to say.

“Sorry no can do; we need to get off this deck.”

“We, who are you?”  I asked.

“Harley.  Remember we came to the Broadcast Station to determine why they went offline.”

I risked opening an eye.  Above me was a pretty dark-haired woman looking at me with a concerned look on her face.  “You took off your helmet.”  I observed weakly.

“Well, you did it first.”

“I did didn’t I.” Trying to smile.

“Breaking protocol.”  She said sternly but with mischievous eyes.

“Yeah, I guess so.”  Then I was able to give a smile.

Andrews voice came over my earpiece.  “The APS is reduced in that area, but I want both of you back in the Examination Cube as soon as possible.”

Harley helped me up off the floor and we made our way to the elevator leaning on each other.

What happened was when I went into APS overdose, I passed out, Harley saw what happened and came down to the warehouse area, pulled the crispy remains of Logistics Technician Peter McCelland off the forklift.  She then coaxed the forklift tines out of the Main Signal that ran through the wall.  And when I say coached I mean she slammed the forklift into reverse both suddenly and violently.   Not being a certified forklift operator, she promptly crashed it into the opposite wall. The APS leakage did not stop but it slowed down greatly.

And while we limped our way back to our ship Teams Omicron and Phi had arrived and sealed the hole in the conduit and started providing first aid to the Broadcast Station personnel.

Unfortunately, they were too late for some people and we lost about ten Fiction Mining personnel including Peter McCelland.    The human brain is not designed to receive so much inspiration in such a short time.  It has been theorized that because Fiction Miners don’t ingest a lot of fiction, we do not engage our imagination as much as regular people, that might have saved us all from having our brains overloaded a lot sooner.

Thats the laymen’s theory, its really for the Medicos to determine.

After I was discharged from Medical once I got back to my station I was called to Andrew’s office again.

“Sir.”  I said standing in front of his desk again.

You are cleared medically to return to duty, but I have been authorized to offer you two weeks’ vacation, location of your choice, not charged against your earned total.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“So, you are going to take it?”

“Yes sir.” I said smiling.

“Any ideas where you are going to go?”

“No sir, I will probably think about it for a little bit if that is okay.”

Andrew nodded and then smiled.  “Lieutenant Harley left an hour ago she asked me to tell you she was going to Key West, Christmas 2135.”  He winked at me.

“Key West that’s on Earth?”

Andrew continued to smile.  “Yes.” There was a pause.  “Beach town I think.”

Otis thought about Harley in a bikini, so he decided quickly.  “I think the next part of my story is going to take place in Key West.”

Categories: Outrageous Lies and Tales, science fiction, Short Stories

Tags: Fiction, Fiction Mining, Imagination, mining, sci fi short story, science fiction, short story