The Stephanie Glitch - Parts 0 and 1.
Yes that's right, I'm forcing a novel through your letterbox.
Before we begin, I just wanted to say thank you to my subscribers. I have tried many blogs and platforms over the last decade, but this is the one where I feel at home. Patreon didn’t quite work for me, and I don’t think I’ll drag currency screaming into this blog either, but I will one day do a kickstarter for this novel, as I have some very fancy ideas for it.
That day may be soon.
This is just the prologue and the first microchapter. If you want more of the novel, you’re going to need to subscribe. Which is easy enough, the buttons are everywhere. It’s FREE, and will remain that way.
The Stephanie Glitch, part 0, and also 1.
“A month every 15 minutes”
LP lay bleeding against the outermost airlock, trying hard to summon something soothing into existence. Her right hand was missing half a finger, yet still she positioned it as if to grasp an invisible glass.
“Springwater please,” she whimpered to the universe, wobbling the invisible glass impatiently. Above her the charred eyestalk of Toumai whirred over her, his glass dome fractured, looking down at her broken body like an omen of death.
“She is almost ready to be born,” the machine said.
“Done printing,” LP corrected.
“A matter of perspective,” the machine replied. LP groaned and gave up her summoning attempt, writhing in place as if to get comfortable in these final moments.
“Not the time,” she said. She turned her bloodied neck and gazed out of the thin slither of window she could see from this angle. A chunk of broken starship floated past, though she couldn’t tell whose starship it was.
“You are dying,” Toumai said.
“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
“What should I tell her about you?” the machine asked.
“Tell her the Virtualists came to kill her universe. Tell her I was what stopped them,” she said. She lost the energy in her neck and head, slumping into the corner.
“Oh… and open the airlock… I don’t want her… seeing me… like this,” she murmured, trying to talk through a growing pool of blood in her throat.
“Confirmed,” Toumai said solemnly. He listened into the erratic beating of her heart as it faltered, stuttering to a halt. Then, when he knew she wouldn’t be around to insult him for trying, he scanned the ship for signs of electromagnetic disturbance, hoping to find her ghost somewhere.
There was nothing. The Artifice was cold and silent.
THE STEPHANIE GLITCH
PART 1
All was silent in the lowermost cryodeck of the Artifice. Toumai was contentedly piloting the research ship along the same old trajectory, blissfully unaware of the threat that was building behind him and the threat that was building above. The humans were asleep in their coldbeds, their bodies frozen in time as the Artifice continued its journey across the stars.
Finally, the silence of flawless automation was interrupted by the beating of a single human heart. Someone must have woken up early. Toumai checked the coldbeds from afar. No exits. Then he checked the life signs, all normal. This human heart was not accounted for. It did not exist. He checked the sensors again, then casted his mind to the nearest eyestalk, waiting just outside the cryodeck to see what strange thing had happened inside.
“You can come in. It’s okay,” the visitor said. Toumai wheeled closer to the cryodeck entrance, emergency panels ready to flip open and discharge his stun gun.
“That won’t work on me. You’ve heard my heart I’m sure. Stronger than those in here. Why do they let you carry those things anyway? I’ve never personally trusted a bot with a gun,” the visitor continued.
“A bot?” Toumai parroted back to her.
“A bot with feelings.”
“Never mind. How did you get in here? Who are you?” Toumai asked. He glided along his rail into the cryodeck to see the visitor. She was wearing a dark blue space suit, comprised of hexagonal panels and iridescent triangular patches. The helmet of the suit seemed unusually large, and featured a gold visor that arched up to its top, perhaps allowing the occupant to look straight up whilst without tilting it. This and the basic exoskeleton embedded in the space suit indicated to Toumai that this particular traveller had arrived without a ship. It was as if the suit itself was a spacecraft.
“I got in here by burrowing into the chest of one of your scientists some years ago, before you set off on this little journey. Since then I’ve waited for the right time to hatch,” the visitor said.
“You need to leave,” Toumai said. His lower emergency panel fell open, revealing a small robotic arm with a sharp point on the end.
“Seriously? You already scanned me with the same tech you use to talk to your passengers here. You know I have no intent to cause harm. My heart, whilst stronger, is beating normally. I am speaking calmly, and I have no weapons. Also I already said that little thing won’t work. Zap me if it makes you feel better, but I won’t notice,” the visitor said. She reached up to her helmet and disconnected it, pulling it loose and resting it atop one of the glass tops of a coldbed. Toumai glided over towards it, flipping away his weapon and replacing it with a little claw. He poked at the helmet.
“Alien?” he asked. The visitor let her hair down and itched her scalp.
“Not in this universe, no. I think it’s just humans here. This is human tech, just a bit more advanced.”
“Time traveller?” Toumai asked.
“Oh aren’t you imaginative? And correct, sort of. It’s going to be hard to explain. I guess I should start by saying I know about Stephanie,” the visitor said. Toumai stopped and turned, his eyestalk level with the visitor’s face. She was around thirty five earth years old, but her eyes suggested a much longer life had pre-existed her body. Toumai couldn’t explain why, but he trusted her.
“You are from above,” he said.
“There we go. I knew you’d get there eventually.”
“I should awaken my passengers. They will want to test you,” Toumai explained. He moved to begin the procedure but the visitor grabbed him, turning his eyestalk to face her.
“Oh, darling. The humans are much safer in the pods. They won’t survive the winter, so small and fragile,” the visitor teased.
“Their research would benefit from your input,” Toumai said.
“Input? Here’s some. My name is LP. I am from above, and from above I saw that you have Virtualists following you,” the visitor said. She turned away from Toumai and picked her helmet back up, toying with it before resting her hand on the cold surface of a coldbed.
“How far?” Toumai asked. LP looked carefully at the architecture of the chamber, the curving supports and dormant screens, vents and wires. Privately she was assessing it for weak points and potential makeshift weapons.
“This isn’t secure enough,” she mused.
“How far?” Toumai insisted.
“A few hours before they are in scanning range, a few days before they arrive and redecorate the place with blast marks and melted metal,” LP said. She checked another coldbed and frowned. “She’s not near here is she? You’ve kept her secret somewhere?”
“She isn’t here. She is below,” Toumai explained. The visitor turned back to him, face twisted with frustration.
“You mean you haven’t even bothered to make her a body yet?”
“It has been discussed, but experiments were paused when the Virtualists found out about us, we had hoped to outrun them, move to a safer location,” Toumai explained.
“Well it’s a bit too late for that, which is why I’m here,” LP said.
“Is her universe in danger?” Toumai asked.
“All of them are.”
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