Free Radio Sphere by Devin terSteeg

bulgasari were eating all our past.
    “That is unlikely.”
    “What is it then?”
    “Allow me to take a scan. This machine will not hurt you, but will allow us to image your brain to better understand you. You both are the first live Refulgents I’ve met.”
    I climbed into a horizontal tube that softly ejected from the floor. It was so sleek, so beautiful, like an upright sarcophagi made of metal; like the barrel of a gun. The chamber was just larger than I with an inset the soma form of a human for me to rest in as the booth tilted prone. Even as I lay flat, through a small lunette peephole, I could watch the conversation between Liz and the alien computer.
    “For over two hundred years of study and observation I have come to understand that the human lifetime has reduced to seventy approximate years provided healthy living.”
    “Your coming here did that?
    “Our decent through your atmosphere triggered a response that we never expected— that you would be willing to incur self inflicted wounds to limit potential outcomes. But it wasn’t just that. Something happened to us. It was a combination of weariness, deep space, and home sickness accumulated. Our stasis system’s cascading errors built up that, while continually purged and reset, caused many of the population to go in and out of stasis many times more than was necessary. A systemic glitch caused variations of pressure and lower average perfusion of blood to the brain. Many of our leaders suffered transient ischemic attacks at first, coritcobasal degeneration and chronic ischemia developed commonly over the course of our journey.”
    “You’ve doomed us to a life only a quarter of what we deserve,” Liz cried.
    “Yes, and destroyed tens of million of my people. We came with great need for catharsis, dreams of ultimate possibility, to remedy a lingering toska. At least some of you have survived. Only six survived the crash on this ship and we built this representation of À¥ÐŁŒ before they died. You can rebuild. There is hope.”
    “Chad’s become nothing more than a memory.”
    “I’m still reconstructing human history from the sources I can access. When living, corporeal members of my species come they can aid in this endeavor and the reconstruction of all you’ve lost.”
    “You will never be able to understand our true loss, let alone give us back what we’ve lost.”
    The tube gave a low hum as it did the thing it was intended to do. I hoped that it would help us somehow. Through the glass I could see Liz, still weeping and engrossed in her memories, when suddenly thousands of images of people appeared before me, both of us and of them; I was no longer certain if time was real, or if those moments had lasted a second or a hundred years, whether there was a Liz or a Chad or a self and others. A thousand forms on the mirror surface, disappearing beneath each other and melting into each other, filled my view. They eventually vanished and I could see Lois smiled gently. I tried to properly fool a smile back. Liz curved over on the floor in a purely fetal position as another tube rose up for her to enter. Uncontrollable tears trickled down her childish face. She was overwhelmed by the feelings of a great love, a love forever lost. She curled tightly into a ball, right down on the ground, in front of the holographic alien watching motionlessly, lifeless, whose holographic smile reminded her of everything that she had ever loved in her life, of everything that had ever been of value.

Zero Again
     
    All the Zeals are dead. First the Prime, then those who would try to be. Stasis failure caused hallucinations and aggression. Some of us survived the crash, initially, but we had yet to prepare for the atmosphere and available consumable materials. All the time getting here; all our hope and excitement. We should have done more, better. I fear all of us will die. I am in charge now and I’ve ordered all the power be reserved for the stasis. I will