Debian Orphanage - Chapter 6

ChapterSix
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The rocket split into two near the troposphere and collapsed into four at the atmospheres edge where Fedora’s capsule travelled out like pollen upon the wind.

The Van Allen radiation belt singed the capsule slightly, but as it was expendable, no worry was put into motion via the statistic nature of Callum’s result accumulation. She places a final finger over the lock of the statistic machine and it shuts down accordingly.

“I have to go...”

“Where?”

“To see the children.”

The collapsing star generator did the job just as well, Sinclair felt the removal of his essence from the form, then eternal blackout…

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Callum stood at Debian’s side in the crèche, held his hand with her left hand, whilst holding a pillow over his face with her right.

“When you are born over one thousand five hundred cells commit biological suicide because they know they are useless. Apoptosis. They have outstayed their welcome. I feel like that right now. A true symbol of apoptosis, I am sure this negative act could produce a positive…”

The poor child didn’t even struggle and seemed to calmly accept the end with a swollen whimper.

The other boys did the same and Callum whispered in their ears that it was ‘alright’. They had to die; she knew that, for Sinclair to enter Fedora, they had to die.

And as mother it was her duty to do so. At the end of the cull she sat at the edge of the bed and ran the small medical blade up both her wrists, snagging the radial artery on the way. Soon her slouched motion at the edge of the bed became a full body curl, then a slump, the she slithered onto the floor in a red mesh of her own blood and bed sheets.
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…Fedora was on fire. Sinclair felt the essence slow segue into the body of the doppelganger quite painful. It seems the cosmic rays were getting soaked into the body at a massive rate. Sinclair let out a scream but there was no noise or utterance. The voice box hadn’t been used enough to form properly and sound doesn’t travel at all well in space.

The Shell Prompt for diagnostic distribution set Sinclair straight. Its answer was returned as binary, converted by KDE into an understandable high level language.

This was what the Solar intricacies were meant to do. He felt no hunger, no anything, practically cold; he looked down at his fiery red body, except for the central chest area and apparently his face.

Sinclair deduced this was because of the lack of Solar Intricacies in these areas due to the presence of the brain and the Pace Making Heart. Upon staring up and out he saw the deep dark energy of space, but funnily enough it had a rampant colour to it?

Strange. Very strange. Was it the presence of cosmic rays to his new eyes. He ran a Opalescent Shell Prompt to see the universe in an array of colours and shade. Apparently this was space, although black, the rays assaulting his senses were pushing the colours through the normal spectrum. A telescopic prompt ran across the corneal board pin points the destination of these coming three years…Titan. It floats there, estranged from its family of planets.

Sinclair runs a prompt that enables the Vibrato Boosting Units that push out a small electronic force that’s the fuel for this kind of space travel and begins to move slowly at first across the night sky.

Suddenly a jolt knocks him off course slightly and in his turning he notices the human form in front of him. Disfigured, dead, rotting in space. Surrounded by blood globules that hung alone from its family.

Sinclair turns the body around to see its face…it is the Primo Nationale Austrailian Distro, an enhanced version of himself, complete with Soaring Advancement Capabilities and a transparent frame. An absolute waste given the use of fuel in the long run. Sinclair looked inside of the Primo but could not locate any black box or recording device of any kind, but in plucking a certain substance that definitely was not the Primo he ran a prompt along his Fingertip Sensitive and allocated a thought process to the idea that the substance was of plant origin. Made no sense. What did this to him?

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The transmissions scaled the globe taking on intermittent bursts of information to billions of viewers.

The distributions were set sail at various times; each of the rockets burning off into the atmosphere bludgeoning hope in the senses and synapses of the masses.

“They are well ahead of us you know.” Sinclair pondered.

“But have they covered all angles?” Arch retorted.

“I think we will be taking a turtle and hare approach to this then...”

“We may finish last but we will finish.”

Sinclair stared at the viewers options; the transparent nature of the distro’s worked wonderfully through the screen.

Sinclair stared at the cellular mess they had created, stirring in the crèche pool.
“Style over substance...?”

There was no reply.

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Sinclair activated his Boosting Unit for a second time and gently pushed the Primo on a trajectory into the earths atmosphere and watched him burn…Sinclair felt such loss at a creation being destroyed but then felt such pain at its intricacy and perfection…

“Sinclair?” the voice throbbed inside his head

“Its Arch, this is a pre-sent boot recording, digitally mastered to your Pace Drive and at heart an afterthought in production. You will receive upgrades in information throughout your trip when you come across something you may or may not know about. Do not be alarmed in this, or surprised. I created it as a gift, addition to the already perfect frame of Fedora. I have said it before and I will say it again…good luck…”

The transmission ended and Sinclair granted himself a smirk in the endless dark of space. But beyond the voice of Arch, Sinclair could make out a quiet moaning, then moaning started to propel louder and louder until it him to full fever pitch screaming…it sounded like a baby, but inside his head. It could only be one thing…Fedora.