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This is fiction. Any resemblance between the content of this story or any of the characters depicted herein and real persons or events is highly unlikely and purely coincidental.
Marsha Powers followed Ellen Berkowitz once the circle in the center of the pad on the floor turned green. The world flashed brightly around her. Marsha found herself in a new room; she felt the need to circle to the right like she always did after riding the Zipper at the county fair.
To combat the dizziness, Marsha closed her eyes. She bumped into the wall and put her hands up to steady herself. Her fingers engulfed cloth covered small columns. The columns flexed. It dawned on her these were arms.
"I've got you, Ms. Powers." The voice was familiar. Hands grabbed lightly onto both shoulders. He pulled her into his torso. "I'm sorry, Ms. Powers and Ms. Berkowitz; I forgot how dangerous it was to use a transporter pad while wearing high heels." Part of Marsha wanted to pull away; but part of her liked the feel of the muscles under the uniform. "Any twisted ankles?"
"I've regained my balance," Ellen offered in response.
"I don't think I can feel that we are moving," Albert's voice sounded from behind Ellen. "It's kind of like being on a big airliner in perfect conditions. I know I'm moving, but it doesn't feel like it."
"Ms. Powers ... Ms. Powers..." She ignored the voice and remained in contact with to his torso. "Marsha, are you okay?" Phillip whispered to her.
She stood mere inches in front of him. The warmth in her cheeks wasn't from embarrassment. "I'm sorry, but the world seems to be turning to the left." Marsha suddenly wanted to be anywhere else but there.
"Please escort our guest, Marsha Powers, to Medical Bay Three." This voice was new. "It appears she is in some form of physical distress."
Marsha pushed away from the colonel. Ellen asked a question, "Was that the voice of an AI?"
Marsha's hands were still grasping his upper arms. Marsha looked up in to the colonel's face. He answered the question. "That was the voice of the Kon Tiki's artificial intelligence, the computer that helps run the ship." The colonel managed to turn Marsha back toward the group. He kept one hand on her elbow, offering her a sense of stability. "Until humans become accustomed to the effects of a transporter pad, the side effects range from disorientation to nausea." The colonel slowly withdrew his hand from her elbow, signaling for Marsha to stand on her own.
"Is there a possibility we could interview the artificial intelligence?" Ellen's voice betrayed a tiny bit of awe.
"The request is respectfully declined," the disembodied voice answered.
"But it would make everything so much easier," Ellen called into the air.
There was no reply.
"AIs are intellects that keep their promises," the colonel stated. "Why don't we continue with the tour?"
"Excuse me, sir," Che interjected. "The director is receiving multiple video inputs. He says one corresponds to the video my camera is providing. He wants me to make sure that Ellen, Albert, and Marsha are aware."
"All activity in the ship is monitored." Colonel Philip Reynolds turned to look directly into Che's camera. "At no time do we wish to have any of the four of you out of the sight of the network. The Marine back at the studio has connected addition video receivers to the control deck."
"He wants to know if he can record and broadcast these images live?" Che relayed his director's question.
"That is acceptable." Colonel Reynolds paused a second, never looking away from the camera operator. "Let's start the tour." He pointed at the floor. "Look down, you can see there are four colored lines here leading out of the room." Philip moved down the hallway, he turned to see that the group followed.
"If we are in space, why aren't we floating?" Ellen's question was very reasonable.
"These ships are equipped with artificial gravity."
Marsha had recovered her composure. "How do we know that we're even in space?"
"I believe I can answer that question once we arrive at where the green line separates from the others." They walked about another fifty feet. Philip pointed at a view port.
Marsha looked through the view port window. Below her, she could see the swirling mass of clouds that shielded much of the Gulf of Mexico cradled in the arms of Florida and the Yucatán peninsulas. The southeast US, the Caribbean, she could see the curvature of the Earth. Inside Marsha, her belief system disintegrated. She started to slide down the wall. The helpful hands from before stopped the slide, keeping her on her feet.
"It's hard to accept when your concept of the universe expands exponentially." His voice was barely a whisper. "It doesn't mean there is no God. It could mean there's more to God than we can find in words."
Marsha contemplated Philip's message. Deep within herself, her soul changed, shifting to rotate along a new axis. This new orientation broke the barriers that once constrained her. Thoughts raced along the pathways in her brain. New possibilities rose within her. Her body's response to the revelations was to hyperventilate. At first, her fingers began to tingle. Then Marsha felt dizzy. When her chest tightened, Marsha gave a small cry.
"I've got you," he said with a soothing voice again but this time hiding his excitement. "Hang on; the medical bay is about fifty feet from here."
Marsha tried to clutch the arms again but the pain forced her into inaction. Those arms however scooped her into them. The speed of the panels flying by as she floated down the hallway seemed astonishing. The tight openings that they passed through caused her to flinch.
The table she was laid on felt cold on the backs of her legs.
"Have her breathe into this," ordered a voice she did not recognize.
Something passed in front of her face. It looked like one of those breathing bag things that she had seen used on television shows by paramedics. Philip Reynolds, the colonel, placed it gently over her nose and mouth.
"Miss, breathe deeply and slowly." Another face came into view. She didn't recognize this one, but there was a red cross on the sleeve of the tight fitting blouse. "We need to let some carbon dioxide build up in your system. Slow your breathing."
Philip took hold of her hand. "Doctor Simms will stay with you while I show off the med bay." Marsha shook her head conveying 'no'. Phillip looked up at the doctor. "Could you take them through the med bay?" The doctor nodded and moved away. With Phillip near, Marsha began to relax.
"Don't stress, Marsha," Philip smiled as he spoke to her. "You'd be surprised how many people have similar reactions once they realize they're in space."
Knowing that did help. Having Philip holding her hand while the doctor had hovered over her attentively moments ago, helped even more. It took about three minutes for her to overcome the hyperventilation. She pushed at the breathing device. Philip pulled it away.
"I think I can sit up now."
Philip placed the device behind him and took her free hand in his. Ever so gently, he pulled her into a sitting position. He stepped back, which allowed Marsha to swing her feet over the side of the table.
"Fortunately, Doctor Sims could guide the show through the medical bay." Philip looked up at the returning group. "I guess it's time for me to lead them to green sector cafeteria." He held out his hand, offering to help her stand.
"About one sixth of first-time visitors to one of our ships experiences some form of extra stress." Doctor Sims walked over and felt Marsha's radial pulse. She turned to look at Marsha. "I have to admit that I actually barely made it to the restroom, after I first experienced a transporter pad."
"I for one do not have the bladder control of the samurai," Albert stated, "are there any bathrooms nearby?"
"Yes, if you look on the wall behind you, you'll see two doors with a red light above them. They are single occupancy unisex bathrooms," Doctor Sims informed them. "It really wouldn't be a doctor's office without one of those white-tiled impersonal specimen collection stations." The group laughed. Albert strode toward the closest door. Ellen moved to the far one.
"Due to privacy concerns," the AI was speaking again, "there will be no feed once the doors have closed."
"The director has cut to a commercial," Che informed Philip as he walked over to him.
"Both the AI and I are impressed at how you're so calmly able to understand and filter the director's instructions." Marsha saw a flash of astonishment in Che's eyes for only a second. The cameraman quickly slipped back into his role as a professional.
Che looked up at Philip. "Richard can sometimes get a bit stressed; his foul mouth is how he vents."
"That, Che, is an understatement." Philip paused, though Marsha saw his throat flex softly. "If you are ever extracted, I have a job for you on my staff."
He put his hand over the mic. "Well, I do have a CAP score of 6.8. What kind of a job do you have in mind?"
The door opened and Albert emerged. "The good doctor was right. It reminds me of the bathroom at my doctor's office."
"If you'll excuse me," Marsha walked quickly toward the bathroom. Once inside, she closed the door. The first thing Marsha did was to stare at herself in the mirror. The same thoughts from before flashed through her mind; this time her breathing remained steady. She checked her makeup. Everything looked in place.
She moved over to the commode. Marsha gathered her skirt up out of the way. Then she pulled down her underwear and pantyhose. Being in the bathroom helped her to think.
She found herself drawn towards Philip. Now that just about everything that Mentis in Deum sent her to denounce and deny was proving to be true, he was the only steady thing left. When he had the opportunity, he didn't deny God. Philip opened a portal to an even greater realm that God controlled.
On wiping, she discovered that there was more slickness than moisture. Fortunately, there was a dispenser for some mini-pads. There was no coin slot. It was one of the advantages the Confederacy had over things on Earth, up here the mini-pads were free. After she put the pad in place, she began to slip everything up.
After washing and drying her hands, Marsha checked her shoes for clinging paper. She straightened her blouse and readjusted her skirt to make sure everything was correct. Then she exited the restroom.
"Marsha, you missed the excitement," Ellen shared. "A crewman came in with a broken forearm." Ellen pointed to to the machine next to the bathroom where she had been in. "He was placed in that device, which is called a medtube. The doctor states that the break will be repaired in under an hour."
Marsha stared at the medtube as she walked back over to the group. She found herself standing next to Philip again without even thinking about it. He smiled at her. Marsha returned his smile. Warmth began building between her legs.
The group followed Philip as he led them into a good-sized cafeteria. "People often wonder if we changed the cafeteria to suit human needs." The tables were all designed for humans. There wasn't any type of service line but there was a series of what looked like large microwave ovens built into one wall. It was easy to see that there were other entrances and exits for the cafeteria. "If you look closely, you can see a bit of curvature in the floor, letting you know that 'flat' isn't 'flat' like it was on Earth. Many people have the kids experiment with balls to prove there is artificial gravity here." There were four larger openings by the doors. The 'reduce, reuse, and recycle symbol' posted above them suggested where the garbage went.
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