WEIGHT

The last of the other pilots was gone. Only Benjamin remained.

He woke up and climbed from the pod. Not that he was ever not “awake” now, even in the pod. But the ship's system insisted on taking him out of stasis. They thought it would mitigate the effects to get up and move around and not just be plugged in. But now, surround by twenty-three “dead” pods, it just reminded him of how alone he was.

Alone. Funny to feel so alone knowing that the ship carried a hundred thousand people. But they were just cargo now and would be until they arrived at their destination. If only he knew where, and win, that would be.

They'd had very little warning. Less then ten years. The Sun would flare and make Earth's solar system would be become uninhabitable. For the human race to survive, they would have to find a new system, a new planet.

There was panic and war, but during it all a plan was put forth. The ship was built to travel. But it was unknown if a habitable planet would be found on the first try. They had enough fuel to get there. But it would take over 40 years to get to the nearest system with the highest probability of sustaining life.. If they got there and nowhere suitable was found, the ship would gather more fuel and materials and set off to another system.

They had to plan for trip that might take hundreds of years. Or more. The speeds achieved, while great, were still much slower to take much advantage of time dilation. To achieve such speeds would use too much fuel.

The ship was designed to run itself. It could self-repair and everything was automated. The “passengers” could be placed in a dreamless stasis, fully unaware of time passing. But choices would have to be made. The computer, as advanced as it was, still needed to be monitored. Too much was at stake.

Benjamin stretched. When he placed his hand on the side on the pod it left a streak in a thin film of dust. No matter how good the filtration system were, dust material still gathered. It had been 3 years since any of the pilots had woken. Benjamin checked the records and saw that it had been 2 years since the cleaning robot had been through the cabin. With a few quick flicks of his finger on a monitor he initiated a scrubbing sequence. He would have done it even if the cabin had been clean. He liked there to be movement around him. He missed movement.

Massive leaps in technology were made in a very short time to make the ship possible, but there was not enough time to fully test everything. You can't test run a mission that would last so long. Simulations could be run, but there was a limitation to what could be predicted. Especially concerning the human mind.

The solution to the pilot problem was to place people in stasis physically but to keep them aware. Their bodies unmoving and unaging but their minds tied into ships systems, overseeing it all. No dreaming, no sleep, but mentally one with the ship.

They knew this would take a toll on the mind of the pilots, to be isolated yet aware for so much time, for an indefinite time. Even during the few short years of testing the system, many pilots cracked in training. The system was improved but could never be perfected. Madness would overcome almost everyone eventually.

Benjamin walked to the pilot's chair and sat down. He ran his eyes over the monitors. He was already aware of exactly what he'd see. He's been plugged into the system only minutes before. The pilot's chair and cockpit were unneeded but the designers put it in anyway. It gave the pilots a sense of control, made them feel less like parts of just a system.

Even though he knew it what it would say, Benjamin check the radiation outside the ship. It was clear and safe. He flicked his fingers and lowered the shield on the small clear window. He could have viewed it on the screens but he wanted to see it, like he always did, with his own eyes. Again, the window wasn't needed for any reason except to make the pilots feel more like pilots.

Twenty-four pilots were selected. The best and most mentally stable that could be found. They would operate in six month shifts, two pilots at a time. The other twenty-two pilots would slip into full-stasis, resting their brains and lessening the time they'd have to be aware. Two pilots to keep each other company, to be a team. Out of every six years, each pilot would be “awake” for only six months.

And so many pilots would operate as backups. Because they could never test the system fully.

The shielding slipped away and Benjamin shut of the cabin lights and dimmed the monitors. But outside was just black and distant stars. The window faced forward and Benjamin new one of the stars was their next destination. If he gave it much though, he could probably figure out which. There was little point. The ship knew where they were going. It always knew.

He moved his fingers across the monitors and brought up cameras from the outside of the ship. It was massive and utilitarian, with little attention to aesthetics. So much metal and plastics and ceramics. A huge ark carrying the human race. It was too large, too heavy, to every enter the atmosphere of a planet. If they ever found a suitable one.

The first pilot cracked only three weeks in his shift. Too much responsibility, too much grief over the billions left behind. The second pilot lasted for 17 years before breaking. The rest stayed stable.

Until they reached the first system after more than four decades. Nothing would suit their needs. The ship gathered material from the planets and asteroids in the system, refilling and repairing. After a year, the ship departed again. Two months, to the day, into the first shift, both pilots cracked. They awoke fully from their pods and committed suicide together.

The ship had a”awoken” Benjamin and his partner, Nathan, as they were up next. It informed them of what had happened. The bots and cleaned up after and disposed of the bodies.

Nathan had lasted 23 more years. More pilots would go. More systems would be visited, reaped and left behind.

They were now on there way to their thirty-second system. Thirty-one systems had been dead. The ship still functioned as new, but six hours ago Cassandra had slipped into madness. She and Benjamin has swapped six months shifts for over fifty years. And now Benjamin was the last pilot.

He shut the monitors back down and closed the shielding. He walked back to the pods and found Cassandra's. He couldn't remember her face. They had never been out of their pods at the same time and the last time he'd seen her was before the ship left Earth's orbit. Now she lay in full stasis. There she'd wait until Benjamin could deliver them to somewhere to make a home. A hundred-thousand souls, all relying on him and only him. He would only age for the few shorts hours he left the pod every few decades. The rest of the time he'd remain in sleeplessness, constant aware of the ship and it's status.

Now it was all on him.