The spaceship was only about the size of an average house, and shaped like a fat bird. The wings spread on either side of its shell and two large jets hung from them. The nose of the ship was rounder than the average modern spaceship and the hull was cramped with stockpiles of empty fuel cans and food, both of which were somewhat unnecessary. The crew, when there was a crew on board, all had their own quarters. Now all the rooms were empty save the cockpit, which was unusually silent. Not so long ago, or so it seemed to the one sitting in the pilot’s seat, there was always noise in here. The pilot was talkative, he remembered.

The ship was as silent inside as the space surrounding it was. The engine was still and the air vents were quiet. The lights that often flickered were now permanently off, leaving the ship in total darkness. The ship simply drifted through space, an object without function. The one sitting in the pilots chair wondered fleetingly what a spaceship was called when it didn’t have function.

“What kind of android asks philosophical questions?”

The words had been spoken in the past by the ships labourer, a big man who always seemed to have a cigar in his mouth. He’d asked the ship’s captain that question, and the captain laughed and replied “my android.”

“Well it kind of freaks me out, cap.”

“It freaks me out to.” The android had replied, and it repeated the words now as if reliving the scene.

Androids were always advancing, according to the news. They’d manufacture one that was unbeatable in a game of chess, and then a month later it would be superseded. Intelligence was the main upgrade and it was always being updated because humans were always learning. There were other upgrades, but these were less common. Physical appearance, for example, was almost perfect. It was impossible to tell with the naked eye the difference between human and android. A generation ago, synthetic skin and hair had sheen to it, making the androids look almost like moving wax dolls. Over time it became so similar that it took DNA testing to tell the difference. Androids were upgraded to sweat when exerted, and to simulate breathing as their stillness was the last thing that gave them away as artificial beings.

They did not, however, require oxygen. The spaceship had run out of that some time ago, the android reflected. If his crew had been on board, they would not survive. They’d freeze to death before they succumbed to asphyxiation, it knew that. It was in his database. It looked like a human, it knew that too. Its skin had been slightly tanned as if it’d grown up somewhere with sun, but it hadn’t grown up anywhere at all. Like a real human, the seclusion and lack of sunlight had affected its skin which was now very pale, and its hair which had once been short and neat had now grown out. Even its fingernails had grown, slower than humans might but grown nonetheless.

Millions of miles away a shooting star crossed the androids line of vision. Once, when they had passengers aboard the ship, a little girl had seen a shooting star. The pilot had let the little girl come up to the cockpit and look out at the galaxy. The android stood behind her, and also looked.

“Did you see that!?” Her little voice carried such joy and surprise. “Make a wish!”

The android, knowing the old myth that wishing upon a shooting star supposedly made wishes come true but knowing it was a falsehood, smiled at the little girl and told her that its wish had already come true. It felt true, although it wasn’t sure what that wish was since it hadn’t made one in its existence. Emotions were programmed into androids, and each emotion had a trigger. If it completed a task, it felt fulfilled. A picture of a puppy would induce happiness, war and death caused sadness, and so on. Years ago it was reported that androids were reacting incorrectly, smiling at scenes of violence or breaking down in artificial yet convincing tears at the sight of a couple being wed. No report of that kind had been made in recent memory.

The android asked itself what made it different from a human, as it had nobody else to ask. The answer was simple, it was an artificial being, created and not born. Though it had skin and hair and even artificial blood that could be used in a human body if necessary, it was designed. Its information was not gained; it was simply there from its creation. Yet this didn’t satisfy the android, though it wasn’t sure why.

Although its database was preloaded with all kinds of information, the android was programmed to learn. It had preconceived notions of things like friendship and loyalty, but it felt enhanced upon seeing these relationships develop between the crew on the ship. It felt an emotion it initially couldn’t indentify when the captain had referred to it as ‘him’. Its name, which was to be decided by its owner, was John. Months after it had been purchased by the captain, it had asked him why it was named John.

“You know, I’ve never encountered an android who asked why it was given its name.” He’d replied with an easy smile. “Long ago, back on the planet our species originated from, there was a group called The Beatles.”

The android nodded. Their music was in his database. It liked Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds, because it thought diamonds were pretty like stars.

“John Lennon inspired many people back then. He inspired me.” The captain smiled again, “Maybe he’ll inspire you, too.”

John. It decided it liked the name. Common for a human, rare for an android. From then on, it’d been John. The crew had all referred to it as a man, and it was, for all intents and purposes, a man. It was treated like a member of the crew, like family. Now there was no one on board, no one to call it John or talk to it about current events. It ceased being John and sometimes, sitting in the dark cockpit drifting through the infinite black of space, it ceased to be an android. Its function was now impossible, and as such its existence was also impossible. It was an object, like the ship, like the empty crates of fuel in the hull.

The spaceship, Yellow Submarine as the captain called it, drifted and possibly would forever. The android reflected that time would pass unnoticed on the ship as there was nothing on it that aged. It had been 2,563 days since the oxygen had run out on the spaceship, just over seven years. The crew had been on board when the engine failed and the fuel caught fire, leaving them stranded in space. When the captain separated the crew and its few passengers into the escape pods, the android helped escort the shivering women and children to safety.

There wasn’t room for everyone, the captain told the crew. It was a small ship, and its few escape pods only held four people. “Wait here.” Were the last words the captain spoke to the android, and were in fact the last words the android was to ever hear.

Dale Mallows
5:01pm, 20th May 2009