Humans Don't Hibernate [Part 73/?] (Patreon)

A mess of indistinct and incomprehensible stutters filled the otherwise silent and ominous air. An air where death still lingered, stale and heavy with the rich and unignorable scent of iron and copper. Yet lacking in the smells that should have otherwise accompanied such an atmosphere of death - the distinct and acrid punch of gunpowder and sweat.

An unintentional staredown had begun between the likes of the physically-frail but technically-gifted Eslan, and that of the robot remotely operated by Lysara. One that was clearly a one sided affair, as evidenced by what quickly happened just a few seconds after the staredown began.

As the felinor began wobbling in place, before suddenly, and expectedly, collapsing right where he stood.

I’d already leaped forward by that point, catching him just as the robot seemed to be poised to do the exact same.

“I saw that you’d already taken measures to prevent his fall, the systems calculated that intervening may have resulted in this platform bumping into you and causing further complications in the softening of your friend’s fall.” Lysara’s voice announced through my earbuds, prompting me to allay his fears with a few successive flicks of my wrist towards the robot.

“It’s alright, but just get these cuffs off of us and help me carry him to the bunk will ya?” I asked urgently, prompting the robot to do just that.

Our cuffs were cut in less time than it took me to request our freedom from our binds, and Eslan was promptly carried over to the bunks with a series of effortless motions that made me almost jealous of the seemingly limitless strength this automaton had beneath its plastic-y exterior.

I quickly leaped towards a cupboard marked with a pre-war symbol for emergency first aid, which was now filled to the brim with what remained of the specialized equipment I’d gathered from Eslan’s bunker.

Grabbing a manual sphygmomanometer, a stethoscope, a thermometer, and several finger-prick blood testing kits, I began my careful walk back towards the bunk, setting down all the equipment beside the now-unconscious Eslan. Whilst any medical professional would’ve opted to do a full New Heartland coma score test first, I knew from experience his condition didn’t necessitate it. At least not just yet. His vitals came first: blood pressure, followed by pulse rate, respiratory rate, and-

“His temperature is at 37.0 celsius, Evina.” Lysara interrupted, right before I was about to use the mercury thermometer too. “I just thought I could save you some time.” He added sheepishly.

“You can detect that?” I asked, before turning to the robot and narrowing my eyes on its optic sensors.

“No, it’s not the robot.” Lysara paused, before correcting himself. “I mean, yes, the robot’s sensors can determine it too. But your glasses are what I’m working off of. I can determine body temperatures if need be at up to an accuracy of plus or minus 0.02 degrees celsius.”

I paused, hesitant on trusting those readings, but deciding to go with it anyways given how much trust I’d already put on the alien thus far. It wouldn’t make sense to make a huge fuss now after everything the alien had done for us after all.

More than that, the alien was right. It did save me time so that I could move on to other tests. Besides, the mess in the room wouldn’t clean itself after all. So I had to worry about that later on as well.

“Excuse me if I am interrupting or if I’m overstepping my bounds here, Evina. But, would it be possible to learn more about the particularities of your friend’s condition?” Lysara suddenly interrupted, just as I’d finished pricking Eslan’s finger, drawing the necessary blood for the different pre-packaged testing kits. “I do not mean to pry, of course. However, considering your request with regards to rendering medical assistance to your friend, I believe it would be prudent to-”

“No, no, you’re right to ask this Lysara, so there’s no offense being taken here.” I responded with an appreciative smile. “Okay, so, this is rather complicated. Eslan would know the nitty gritty specifics of it. But of course, it’s not like you can really ask him yourself right now.” I gestured at the felinor who was still out cold. “So I’ll tell you what I can.” I swiveled back and towards the robot, despite knowing well that the alien probably wasn’t even using its sensors. “It’s a rare condition.” I began. “Something to do with his brain being unable to regulate several important ‘control centers’. Vital functions like blood pressure, body temperature, physical sensations like pain, temp, and even ‘feeling’ where your body parts are if you’re not looking at them. Those are the most obvious symptoms. There are others that are making him chronically tired, fatigued, lethargic, and all-around unable to exert himself much.” I paused, before shaking the pack of little paper-based pre-packaged testing kits. “That’s what these are for, markers for various chemicals and stuff in his blood. But that’s honestly as far as I know. He taught me to monitor the basic medical stuff, with first aid tips to resuscitate him if necessary. Like if a certain level of something’s too high, I need to administer a certain type of injection. That sort of stuff. Things weren’t that bad at first but… it’s been getting worse as of late.” I admitted with a despondent sigh.

That’s… that’s why I need your help. There’s really no one else to turn to, as you can imagine. I wanted to continue with that. In fact, a part of my mind prompted me to say it without question. Yet the pragmatic survivor in me chastised me to keep myself from saying anything that would hint at weakness.

I knew I was already a charity case, my own services paled in comparison to what the aliens were offering.

Doing or saying anything to make my situation look any more desperate than it already was definitely wasn’t going to do me any favors at the bargaining table.

“I know this might seem insincere and… for lack of a better term, cheap coming from someone who has just been introduced to your situation, Evina… but you have my sincerest and utmost sympathies for your friend’s current condition.” The alien spoke, the translator imbuing his words with an earnest and sincere tone of voice. And despite clearly being translated… I still got the impression that he did really mean what he said.

“Thank you.” I responded politely.

“We’ll do everything in our power to help.” The alien responded tactfully, and similar to when he first promised that, I felt an electrifying wave of hope coursing through me.  “With that being said… I’m assuming he fainted due to his condition?” Lysara concluded.

“I mean… I can’t really tell. I’m not a Doctor. But I definitely think this fainting spell has something to do with that-” I pointed at the pile of bodies around us. “-and that.” I pointed at the robot.

The response was enough for the alien to cough awkwardly, before shrugging in response. “Okay. You know what, that makes sense.”

A few minutes later, the results of my mini test kit came through. Eslan was fine, with no further apparent complications. So with any immediate threats to his health ruled out, a small back and forth between me and Lysara soon erupted, as he offered to help… well… clean up shop. I gladly accepted, prompting more robots to crowd the already crowded space.

But as crowded as it was, their numbers definitely did the trick, as only ten minutes had elapsed between the first body going into the furnace and the last one filling up the ever-hungry pit of fiery despair.

“Well, that’s the last of them I guess.” I acknowledged, clapping both of my hands together as I looked down at the floor only to see the crimson-stained mess left behind by Perringer and his gang.

Which prompted me, and a few more robots courtesy of Lysara, to begin swabbing the decks. During which, I couldn’t help but to finally address the elephant in the room. “So, seeing as how effective that whole plan of yours was, and considering that level of tech… is it even possible for you guys to lose?”

“Yes.” Lysara responded in a nonchalant no-nonsense tone. One that was perhaps muddied or in some way borked by the translation suite in its intended delivery, given how matter-of-fact it was. “In fact, technological and scientific parity coupled with a competent or at least a sufficiently stable government and military makes it so that there is always a counter for every weapon system. This is irrespective of its novelty, its innovativeness, or its apparent gross destructive potential.” The alien paused, the little picture-in-picture screen of him on my lenses giving the impression that he’d suddenly transitioned into deep thought. I allowed him to ponder on the answer further, as a reply eventually formed a few seconds later. “Your civilization once had nuclear devices for the purposes of atomic warfare, correct?” He suddenly asked, prompting me to wince instinctively in response.

The pain of the war, whilst distant, could sometimes be as fresh in my mind as my first iteration’s experiences of it. Mentioning it directly didn’t always guarantee that the scabbed-over wound would be reopened, it more often than not just… sporadically did, regardless of how directly or indirectly the topic of the war was addressed.

“Yes, what about it?”

“I’m certain that once the first nation on your homeworld acquired the device, other parties would find themselves scrambling to find countermeasures to such a devastating weapon?”

“Yes, that’s obvious, but what does that have to do with-” I paused, realizing just how dumb my earlier question was, now that this obvious comparison was being drawn. “-oh. So you’re saying that those near-invisible little robot-bugs also have their weaknesses and counters?”

“Everything does.” Lysara replied succinctly, not with condescension or anything that would’ve hinted at him playing the superior alien. In fact, the translator’s delivery of his tone of voice made it seem like he was genuinely trying to bridge the gap, like a sort of teacher in his own right. “But here’s my next comparison. Jump back a century or two, or heck, a millennium or so before the advent of your nuclear capabilities. If your ancestors, or a civilization lacking in technological parity, were to observe the destructive potential of your modern weapons technologies… I’d assume they would be equally baffled as to how a civilization with such capabilities could lose in any armed engagement.”

“Yeah, I see where you’re coming from with this.” I announced with a huff, mopping the rest of the refuse from the floor with a series of audible squelches.

“All of this is to say, your reactions are very much appropriate, Evina. For it represents a certain phenomenon that my people have dubbed a Technological Paradigm Shift, or a TPS. Whilst my field of expertise may warn against the grouping of cultures and civilizations into distinct and discrete ‘technological levels’, this concept in particular isn’t necessarily an attempt to group civilizations into discrete categories based upon their overall technological capabilities or scientific progress. Instead, it attempts to discreetly delineate the sheer incompatibilities between different civilizations’ practical parity, based upon paradigm-altering technologies that completely upend and alter the calculus of hard power through unprecedented changes in warfare.”

“Disruptive technologies.” I suddenly announced.

“...Yes. I assume your people have theorized about this before?”

I blinked rapidly, turning around as if trying to find the source of exactly where that foreign concept had suddenly made itself known in my head.

But I couldn’t.

I couldn’t recall a distinct period in time where I came across that concept. Not in my first iteration’s massive repositories of fiction and nonfiction media, not in my second iteration’s obsessions over her bunker’s vast digital archives, and not especially in my third or fourth iteration’s memories who had at that point all but shifted focus on survival.

“I… I guess I must have picked the concept up from somewhere.” I chuckled nervously, which garnered only a small look of confusion from the alien as he quickly moved on from that.

“Disruptive technologies are only a facet of this. For TPS’ are a step above that. TPS’ involve fundamental shifts that completely change the way warfare is waged. Gravitics is an excellent example of this. As with the advent and proliferation of practical gravity manipulation, you don’t just have a tool to simply improve the quality of life of those living in zero-g environments. You also have a new tool for industry, and a new weapon for war. Those civilizations that exist without this technology, are thus completely outclassed. For without a mastery of gravitics, a civilization would have little recourse in defending oneself against ships designed and outfitted with gravity-based offensive systems. This creates a new paradigm, and thus, the dangerous trappings of the belief of infallibility by those that enjoy the disparity’s benefits, and the equally dangerous feelings of insurmountability by those that are on the disadvantaged end of that disparity.”

“Where are you going with this, Lysara?”

“What I’m trying to get at here is this, Evina. Whilst these paradigms do exist, it’s easy to fall into the trappings, to treat them like gospel. To eventually fall into the belief certain hurdles cannot be overcome simply because you’ve been outclassed in technological capability. Thus, it is important to deconstruct why those feelings exist, acknowledge the practical dangers that are inherent in the realities of the disparity you find yourself in, and then overcome them by realizing that with any element of science and technology, everything’s fallible. Those drones I used for instance? Their very strength, that being their size, is also their greatest weakness. Their circuitry is more fragile than a typical drone, making them more susceptible to certain electromagnetic countermeasures. Furthermore, their very size makes them susceptible to what most insects are susceptible to - liquids. Modified fire suppression systems, foam, sprays, and the like can likewise disable them. Couple that with micro-laser arrays and you’ve countered the technology.”

I pondered the alien’s words as I continued to mop away at the floors, his voice becoming more like an old documentary or radio show I’d left open in the background. Yet the more he talked, the more I felt like he was channeling some deep-seated issue, or alluding to something that was still fresh on his mind.

I couldn't help but to ask. “I’m assuming you’re bringing this up because this has to do with your mission or something right? Like, don’t tell me you’ve been outclassed and there’s something bigger and scarier out there that you’re currently up against?” I threw out my wild theory with an equally silly chuckle.

Yet the response I got wasn’t a laugh or a chuckle, it was a look of stone cold seriousness.

“Not… necessarily. However, I… find myself more inclined to discuss these sorts of things because I’ve experienced first hand a species, a people, a civilization that embodied this very spirit of tenacity against insurmountable odds; practically going against my people’s very understanding of TPS’. Moreover, I empathize with your current situation, awakening to a reality that seems to only bring one paradigm shifting revelation after another. So considering how easy it is sometimes to feel overwhelmed by the revelation of a reality that completely upends all you know, I couldn’t help but to try to pass on this sentiment of their tenacity to you, as they have done so for me.”

“Who?”

“Humanity.”