Descending Road - DATA TRANSFER by Dana W. Paxson

DATA TRANSFER

0 NC, Day 0, Hour 14

“What do we do?” Elena asked.

Susan hurried on, overrunning Elena‘s question. “When our lander first reached the surface, it sent back the necessary calculations for any who might follow.

“Look to your left. You will see a panel with red marks glowing on it. Press it. Inside the recess is a cartridge. Take it with you and make sure the lander team follows the instructions it presents. It should work in a standard cartridge bay of your era. In an adjacent recess are four more cartridges, with three hundred petabytes of technical and historical data you should find useful. I would have sent it to you, but your receivers were malfunctioning.”

Her mind spinning, Miriam retrieved the cartridges and tucked them into a suit patch pocket.

The woman’s eyes roved left, then right. “My time is almost up. I’ve diverted some power to maintain this image, but it won’t last.”

Miriam blurted, “I want to talk to you.”

“Oh, but I’m long gone. This conversation is coming from intelligent archives. There’s no one here to listen.”

Miriam‘s words rushed and tumbled out heedlessly. “I wanted to bear children, and watch them grow, and I’d get old and see them have children, and I’d laugh and hold them in my arms, and… I can’t.”

“Why?”

“My man died, coming out of the Sleep. His body is back on my ship, with all the others who didn’t wake up.” The sick sensation of loss washed over Miriam. Her suit pressure alarm glowed yellow. A slow leak. She ignored it.

“Why not another man? Or a woman?”

“No. Either way, forget it.”

“Is your man’s body still there?”

Story List	SURPRISE ME	Author Page
USER SURVEY	PUZZLE ME	MAKE ELM MARK

HOVER Lucida Bright BARE	HOVER Lucida Bright FULL	HOVER Palatino Linotype BARE
HOVER Palatino Linotype FULL	HOVER Times New Roman BARE	HOVER Times New Roman FULL
PAD Arial BARE	PAD Arial FULL	PAD Lucida Bright BARE
PAD Lucida Bright FULL	PAD Times New Roman BARE	PAD Times New Roman FULL


	DATA TRANSFER 0 NC, Day 0, Hour 14 “What do we do?” Elena asked. Susan hurried on, overrunning Elena‘s question. “When our lander first reached the surface, it sent back the necessary calculations for any who might follow. “Look to your left. You will see a panel with red marks glowing on it. Press it. Inside the recess is a cartridge. Take it with you and make sure the lander team follows the instructions it presents. It should work in a standard cartridge bay of your era. In an adjacent recess are four more cartridges, with three hundred petabytes of technical and historical data you should find useful. I would have sent it to you, but your receivers were malfunctioning.” Her mind spinning, Miriam retrieved the cartridges and tucked them into a suit patch pocket. The woman’s eyes roved left, then right. “My time is almost up. I’ve diverted some power to maintain this image, but it won’t last.” Miriam blurted, “I want to talk to you.” “Oh, but I’m long gone. This conversation is coming from intelligent archives. There’s no one here to listen.” Miriam‘s words rushed and tumbled out heedlessly. “I wanted to bear children, and watch them grow, and I’d get old and see them have children, and I’d laugh and hold them in my arms, and… I can’t.” “Why?” “My man died, coming out of the Sleep. His body is back on my ship, with all the others who didn’t wake up.” The sick sensation of loss washed over Miriam. Her suit pressure alarm glowed yellow. A slow leak. She ignored it. “Why not another man? Or a woman?” “No. Either way, forget it.” “Is your man’s body still there?”