Part I: The Visitor

The Engineer was a tall man with thick, black hair, a trace of a mustache, and narrow eyes set deep below a forehead that took up an inordinate amount of real estate on his head. 

He wore blue-framed glasses and a white jacket with the word "JavaLink" stitched in red letters on the back. 

His favorite book was the seven-hundred-page tome "The Monster That Would Never Go Home” that he read at least once a year. He was a compulsive eater of chocolate and honey. He played racquetball against himself using rules he'd made up over the course of several years. He had a photo of his wife and daughter on his desk. 

His wife was dead and his daughter, now an adult, lived on Earth with her husband and their basset hound Jeremiah. The Engineer didn't talk to his daughter anymore, but his son-in-law, whom he described as "earnest," would call on birthdays and holidays and keep him updated on current events, such as the progress of Jeremiah's potty training or the price of salad. 

Needless to say, the Engineer was a lonely man. Not only was he a widower with a daughter who never called to update him on the prices of things, but he had lived alone aboard the research station Serenus for the last decade. 

Serenus, a multinational detail that became possible only when a majority of humankind came to the conclusion that science did in fact have some redeemable qualities, had, for nearly fifty years, kept the familiar pattern of a figure-eight with Earth at one end and the Sun at the other. 

Calling it a figure-eight is misleading, the Engineer would tell you. The universe, he'd say, is not two-dimensional; it contains three fairly distinct dimensions, and probably many more that are considerably less distinct. 

Be that as it may, the route the Serenus follows through space is only a figure-eight on paper. 

One could imagine, as the Engineer often did, that when one considers the infinite ways in which objects move through space, the patterns they follow would create some very interesting shapes, images, and pictures. 

Much like a yoga-loving octopus, he might tell you.  

The point is, things aren't always what they seem. 

That being said, the Engineer wasn't surprised when a red light began to flash among a hundred other lights that never flashed. It was a slow flash - a tiff-tiff-tiff - that on its surface was not something to worry about. 

Except it did worry the Engineer. It worried him because this particular light was not supposed to flash. 

Had any of the nearby lights begun to flash, he would not have worried at all. For example, the light directly to the left indicated that a certain bathroom - or latrine, as they were called in the manuals - was out of toilet paper. Since there were hundreds, thousands, maybe even hundreds of thousands, of bathrooms aboard Serenus, he'd locate the correct one via a manual. The process could take minutes; it could take months, depending on the brand of toilet paper and the location of the bathroom. 

But this was something else that never happened, because the Engineer was the only person on the ship. 

Which was why the flashing light concerned him. This particular light indicated - he had to look it up in one of the manuals - that someone was on board with him. 

This is not to say he did not have companionship. One of the original Engineers had, after a decade aboard Serenus, gone mad from the isolation and tried to redirect the station into the Sun, which would have been very expensive. 

The Company, JavaLink, publicly blamed his madness on the isolation, and without any evidence whatsoever also blamed it on the rumor that he was an unlikeable racist-slash-misogynist-slash-homophobe-slash-probably a Hitler fanatic whose own mother often referred to him as "My little Nazi boy.” 

The story stuck, and the “little Nazi boy” became popular fodder for children's cartoons, t-shirts, sitcoms, and propaganda campaigns. 

His family, even those he'd never met, had to move far away, change their names, and forever deny their connection. 

It did seem to many a bit excessive considering his efforts to destroy the research station never came close to fulfillment. But then again, one should never underestimate the power of a trendy t-shirt. 

Officially, JavaLink cited their own "operational short-sightedness.” They hadn't factored in the effects of such prolonged isolation. So they came up with a solution:

His name was Thomas, and at the time the mystery light began to flash, he was twelve years old. Thomas was eight feet tall, and though he had the general look of a human - that is, a neck and head, shoulders, two arms, a torso, and two legs - everything about him was round, bulbous, like a hundred underinflated balloons glued together. He weighed five hundred pounds. 

This last fact was something the Engineer liked to point out. "You're fat," he would say. Or, "If you dropped some weight you might be more likable." 

The first two or three dozen times the Engineer made such a comment, Thomas would stare back just a bit confused. But after those first two or three dozen times, Thomas seemed to take it personally, as if he understood the insult and the cultural baggage such comments carried. His shoulders slumped, his head bowed, Thomas would leave the room, dragging his feet, and sit alone in some random corner until the Engineer found him. 

This was the Company's response to the earlier Engineer who had gone mad from isolation and tried to steer the Serenus into the Sun. 

"What do you think, Thomas?" asked the Engineer. 

Thomas pondered. He said, "Visitors" in a voice that sounded like a small boy. 

"Visitors," the Engineer repeated. "You think there's more than one?"

Thomas shrugged. "Could be."

"Can you calculate their location?" asked the Engineer. 

Thomas calculated. 

He said, "Level seventy-one, floor two-hundred-and-eight, section...five."

"Is that - "

" - nowhere near the landing bay."

They looked at each other as if expecting the other to come up with a plan. 

"Why are you looking at me like that?" asked the Engineer. 

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Thomas responded. "You're  the senior officer - you're the only officer - on board. You are the only human on board." 

The Engineer's face turned red. "I'm aware of that, Thomas," he said. 

"We could make an announcement on the intercoms," said Thomas. "We could arrange for you to welcome them on board."

"Why not you?"

"If you're afraid - "

"I'm not afraid. You must be afraid."

But he was afraid. And he was worried. His hands were fists at his side and sweat had formed into droplets on his formidable forehead. 

"What if they're hostile?"

"Hostile?"

"You never know."

"Never know what?"

The Engineer pushed a button and an enormous screen opened in front of them. It wasn't a direct view of the outside, but a live video feed that could easily be mistaken for the real thing. "You never know what's out there," he said, pointing at a distant spot of light that was Earth. 

It wasn’t really Earth. Earth was too far away. But the engineers at Javalink thought it was a good idea to superimpose a touch of blue light in the video feed to make the viewer feel less alone. These were the same engineers who'd come up with Thomas. 

"We're all that's out here," said Thomas. 

It sounded like a question, and this worried the Engineer even more. 

They sat together for some time staring at the flashing light. 

Twenty minutes passed, and Thomas said, "No one's going to accuse us of being overly decisive."

The Engineer made no response, so they sat for another twenty minutes. The light flashed, and faintly tiffed, like a wristwatch in the room next to yours. The tiffing seemed to get louder, and the flash seemed to increase in frequency. 

There was someone on the station with them. 

No one was supposed to be on the station with them. 

"We should communicate with them through the intercoms."

The Engineer reached for the communicator, a wiry device with an egg-shaped tip the size of a child’s fingernail. He pushed a few buttons and a young Company man appeared on a screen. 

"Gooooood morning, Serenus," said the young man. It was the same greeting the Engineer got every time he connected with JavaLink. 

"Is it morning?" he asked, just like he always did. 

"Uhh, no," said the man."It's actually seven PM. I was actually packing up and heading out."

"Is there an arrival we didn't know about?" asked Thomas. 

"I'm sorry. What?"

The Engineer held up a hand to silence Thomas. 

He said, "There's an indicator light showing someone has boarded Serenus. We were not notified of this."

Thomas interrupted. "And honestly we're kinda freaked out," he said. 

"Is that Thomas?"

"That's affirmative."

"Thomas, you look great, you old goat!"

"I feel great. But honestly, things are a bit tense."

The Engineer shushed Thomas and pointed to the corner. Thomas walked to the corner and sat. 

The Engineer said, "To be honest, we're not sure how to proceed. As I said - "

"What happened to Thomas?"

"He's in the corner.  I didn't want him to interrupt.”

"Oh, I see," said the young man. 

"If you want -"

"No, no," said the man, but his tone made the Engineer worry even more. "About your question. There wouldn't be anyone that far out. I'm looking and there's nothing scheduled. Nothing for - I don't know - it looks like another five years." 

"Five years?"

"Five years."

"So that would be my replacement."

"That sounds right."

"But what about the flashing light?"

"Broken fuse?"

"That's not how fuses work."

"I don't know, man. I'm not an engineer."

"What should I do?"

"Fix the fuse?"

An alarm began to blare outside the room. A dozen or more red and yellow lights began to flash. 

Thomas and the Engineer jumped in surprise. 

"What's that?" asked the young Company man. 

"An alarm!" shouted the Engineer. 

"What kind of alarm?"

"What kind?"

"What does it sound like?"

The Engineer and Thomas spoke at the same time:

"Like an alarm!"

And:

"Things are getting really tense up here!"

The Engineer didn't know Thomas had crept up behind him and was startled when he turned to see - all eight feet and five hundred pounds - standing there looking down on him, his red lights for eyes flashing. 

"How do I turn off the alarm?" 

The Company man and Thomas spoke at the same time, saying the same thing: "You're the Engineer!"

The Engineer looked at Thomas, then at the mic in his hand and said, as if he'd forgotten, "I'm the Engineer." 

He typed in a few commands and the alarm went silent. 

The two of them looked around the room as if they might find the loud noises and flashing lights lying in wait. 

A minute passed. Two minutes. The silence was something alive. The silence was something they could feel. 

Then the Company man said, "Are you still there?"

"Still here," said the Engineer. 

"Listen," said the young man, "this may sound crazy."

"Okay," said the Engineer, once again not appreciating the man's tone. 

"I'm not sure how to tell you this," he said. Each word was a sentence. Each word bounced around the room carrying springs. 

"Tell me what?" asked the Engineer. 

"There's something - I need to - I'm not sure how to tell you this."

"Tell us what?" asked Thomas. 

"Listen," said the voice. "this may sound crazy."

"You already said that!"

"Listen."

"Listen."

"Listen."

"Listen."

"Listen."

"Are you still there?"

"Still here!" shouted the Engineer. 

"It looks like another five years," said the Company man from ninety million miles away. “You old goat!”

Then nothing. They were cut off. They were alone. Except they were not alone. 

The flashing light. "How long," asked the Engineer, "will it take them to reach me?"

"Assuming they want to reach us."

"How long?"

Thomas calculated. It took him only milliseconds to make such calculations, but he knew that humans liked him to pause before answering. So he waited five seconds. Ten. 

"How long?" the Engineer asked again. 

"Assuming they take the most direct route?"

"Yes."

"Assuming they know the direct route?"

"They knew how to board."

"Two days."

"Two days," repeated the Engineer. 

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