Donovan could not imagine a better world. The stress of it was coming close to killing him. No amount of research into the ancients wisdoms or desperate calling in of old favors to borrow modern bio-manipulation tech had helped the process. He was stuck. Stuck Initiators do not graduate. If he did not graduate he would be demoted. Demotion involved a lot of menial labor and Donovan was not on good speaking terms with menial labor.
The holo-table image of the thesis planet flickered. A reminder that he had been running the manipulative management equipment for so long it was starting to stress the hardware. The light flickered again, but this time he was certain it was his eyes having trouble, not the lights. He tapped in the shut down codes with clumsy fingers then let himself sink to the floor, with an aching back, against the warm metal of the work station. The vibration of the tech slowly winding down hummed against his spine as he closed his eyes and considered the available options.
Sleep chose him before a solution did. A crick in his neck and a chill across his shoulders woke him again with no more answers than he had dosed off with. He got up stiffly and shuffled out the door of his small work cube, locking the door behind him. This section of the Sphere was on night mode to be this cold. The Sphere’s governing body tried to mimic real planet minutia as much as reasonable possible. The rotation of the sphere, where it held steady on the leading edge of the expanding universe, was slowed to approximate earth. Approximate because no one knew any more how long day actually was on any the original 4 earths. Somewhere between 16 and 32 hours depending on what historian you asked. The sphere opted for a 22 hour cycle, the star spangled view of the universe facing side was ‘day’. The tumultuous black maw of yawning other of the edge facing side was ‘night’.
The current goal of the Sphere was the Human Race: Survival of, location of, propagation of, etc. The Sphere’s main problem in reaching that goal was its position in space. The Sphere traveled the edge of the ever expanding universe because it was stuck on the edge of the ever expanding universe and had been for about 2 millennia.
The Sphere had started as a terraforming colonial unit; the largest ever built. After the sun death of Earth 1’s galaxy Earth 2 made it Humanities primary goal to spread itself as far and wide into the universe as it could get. The tech was well established and despite the cries of the (curiously hopeful) alien believers there was not a soul out there to tell them not to. The Sphere was the product of Earth 3’s greatest minds. She housed 45,000 crew for journeys less than two years and was self sufficient at 23,000. Records indicated the Sphere had terraformed 7 planets before an unidentifiable incident flung her to the edge of the universe and here they now float. They bobbed in the eddies of the universes largest wake unable to break free and uncertain if they were the last of humanity itself.
The Sphere did not, however, lose focus. In fact the placement at the edge of the universe’s ever forming greatness had put them at the forefront, literally, of creating planetary paradise for anyone out there ready to warp to it. The raw stuff that bubbled at the edge of the universe and all of its restless, violent energy, was the stuff of dreams for seeding space with life. Training for a position with the elite scientist that guided that work was the highest honor and the opportunity of a lifetime. Of many lifetimes in fact. Positions did not open frequently, few than 100 in a generation. Donovan was competing with 367 other applicants for 2 vacancies. Most of them had been waiting for a decade or more for the chance while slaving away in their second choice career paths. Most adults on the Sphere had more than one option, most finished their schooling with triple major of applicable skills zeroed in for their life in space. Donovan had options in Agriculture and Edge studies. He had spent two years in each position before starting on his thesis design for planetary seeding. He liked eating and there was always something new to theorize about concerning the edge, but growing an apple, produced an apple, and the Edge spent the vast majority of its time being invisible to the naked eye. Planetary design had always been his first choice. It was visual, tangible, unpredictable, earth shattering work and if he didn’t figure out how to be better than his competitors it would back to theorizing ways to grow a more efficient apple instead of a more efficient ecosystem for him.
“Sleep it off,” he mumbled as he stumbled through his dormitory and collapsed with practiced silence into his bunk.
He dreams were full of apples and energy.
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