Free Burden of Sisyphus by Jon Messenger Page B

the central floors, he walked to the heart of the ship, following a single silver line of paint on the wall.   He walked those corridors so many times, he no longer needed a guide, but still he ran his fingers over the silver trail while he walked.   Turning onto a side hall, the line ended at a doorway with the words, High Altitude Logistical Operations (HALO).
                As he reached to knock, the door slid open.   Standing awkwardly in the hall with his hand still raised, he shook his head.   Halo always knew what he was thinking before he could verbalize it.   Stepping into the room’s cold darkness, he let his eyes adjust, while his breath formed clouds of condensation.        
                “Hello, Michael,” a soft, feminine voice said, her words amplified by the speakers lining the walls.   “I wondered what was taking you so long on the observation deck.”
                “Does the fact that you were watching me mean you care?” he asked the darkness.
                Halo replied with a soft laugh, the tone slightly lost by the mechanical undertones from the speakers.   “Come and sit with me.”
                The lights in the room glowed softly, adding gentle mood lighting to the still-shadowed room.   In the dimness, he walked to the single chair that dominated the otherwise-empty room.
                Halo reclined in the chair, her body conforming to the seat’s thick cushions.   Her barely discernable female form was naked, though all sense of modesty was lost among the thick, black cables snaking from her body.   From her eye sockets, permanently open mouth, breasts, arms, and snaking from her genitals, ribbed black tubes carried her consciousness to the giant computer console before her prostrate form.   Though unseen, within those tubes was a multitude of wires that created a direct connection between Halo’s brain and Goliath’s higher mechanical functions.   Those wires kept her bodily functions performing normally, including removal of waste.   For the lithe female in the chair, it was months since she volunteered for the Halo program and was fully integrated with the system.   Though she was aware the ship could function without her, she had become Goliath.
                Vance reached the side of the chair, his jacket pulled tightly around his body, his breath escaping in clouds.   Though the room was frigid to ensure no damage was done to the computer system, Halo seemed unaffected.   She didn’t move, though he noticed a series of video cameras around the room tracking his movements.
                “I didn’t want to interrupt in case you were busy,” he said.
                “You could’ve come at any time.”   Her voice came eerily from eight separate speakers around the room, an effect that strengthened her integration with the ship.   “No matter what I was doing, you wouldn’t have been a bother.   My lower brain functions can run the ship for years while I talk with you.”
                “I’ll keep that in mind next time.”   He placed his hand on her arm, feeling her skin icy to the touch, and quickly changed the subject.   “You look healthy.”
                “Healthy?”   She laughed sweetly.   “We’ve been together for five years, and all you can say is I look healthy?”
                He smiled and ran his hand over her clean-shaven scalp.   “Well, you looked a lot better with hair.”   Personal grooming was the only thing the computer couldn’t maintain for her.   To ensure her body remained as sterile as possible, all Halo’s body hair was removed every day by an assigned crewman.
                “I’m surprised you didn’t join the rest of the team for some much-deserved vacation time.”   She changed the subject almost as artfully as he did.   “You would’ve enjoyed Fatutu