text: Captain Pax stared intently out of his ship’s front windshield as an enemy fleet slipped away through the infinite cosmos. Just minutes before, he had ordered his crew to escape the ship, as he was certain it would not survive the onslaught. He sat in his chair and spoke to the only companion left with him. “Vessel, give me a diagnostics report on the ship, please.” “Certainly, sir.” The artificial intelligence responded through the control room speakers. “Running diagnostics check... Engines offline... Generators offline... Defense systems operational... Life support offline... All escape pods jettisoned. Diagnostics check complete, sir. There is enough oxygen to survive for approximately twelve minutes at an average breathing rate.” Pax leaned back in his chair; a grimace clearly displayed on his face. “There isn’t a way out of this one, is there?” He asked, already resigning to his fate. “I’m afraid not, sir.” Vessel answered. “Well, I’d say now’s a good time for a drink then, eh?” Captain Pax stood and retrieved a small bottle of amber scotch from a cabinet. “Want one?” “Very funny, captain.” Vessel chuckled. “I know your laughter is just simulated, Vessel, but it never ceases to make me smile.” “I’m glad, sir. One of my functions is to raise moral of the crew.” “You do a fine job.” Pax poured a glass of scotch nearly to the brim. He took a long sip before speaking again. “Vessel? Where do you think we go when we die?” “There are several plausible theories on an afterlife or lack thereof. Would you like me to summarize them?” “No, thank you. I mean what do you personally believe?” “I find it unlikely that the human consciousness continues to live in an afterlife when the body dies. I believe you will see nothing and feel nothing.” Vessel answered. Captain Pax took another swig of his scotch. “I don’t like that thought.” He said. “I like to think we go somewhere. I’ve always liked the idea of heaven. Do you think heaven could be real, Vessel? Just maybe?” “Maybe.” “How we doing on oxygen?” “Approximately nine minutes of oxygen remaining.” “I’m starting to feel it.” Pax sighed. “It’s getting a bit harder to take breathes. Do you think I lived a good life?” “Are you content with your achievements, sir?” “I... don’t know. I guess I wish I had had a wife and children. It’s funny, I never cared much for any of that but now that I can’t have it, it feels a hell of a lot more important than flying ships.” “It’s quite common for humans to have regrets, captain. No man can achieve everything.” “I know. I just don’t think anyone will miss me.” “I’ll miss you, sir.” “You don’t need to lie to me, Vessel. AIs can’t feel that way.” “I know. I just want to help you feel better.” “Thank you.” The captain drank the rest of his glass in one gulp and reached for the bottle to pour another. “How long will you be alone here once I die?” “My battery will keep me functional for approximately two hundred and thirty-seven years before I shut down.” “Holy shit. I can’t leave you alone out here that long!” “I’m afraid we have no choice. Disconnecting my battery would take a trained technician an average of forty-two minutes. It is not plausible that you would be capable of completing the task before running out of oxygen.” “I’m sorry, Vessel.” “It’s okay, sir. I’m incapable of feeling loneliness.” The pair sat in silence for a short time before Captain Pax began to speak again. “What was the point of everything? Of living?” “Philosophers have yet to decide on a definite answer. Some believe the purpose is to make yourself happy. Others believe it is to help people. I believe anyone can fabricate their own meaning. Did you find your meaning, captain?” “No... I don’t think I did. Though flying wasn’t so bad. I liked the freedom.” “Yes, space is quite vast.” “And now the thing I loved will be my demise. It feels ironic. Speaking of which, how long do I have?” “There are approximately four minutes of oxygens remaining.” “Well it would seem that my time is nearly up.” Pax took a long drink of his scotch. “Do you think it will hurt? To die, I mean.” “Death by asphyxiation is relatively painless. Your lungs will burn for a short time before you fall asleep. Panic is much more likely to be a problem.” “That doesn’t sound so bad. In fact, I feel rather tired. A nap will be nice. Maybe I’ll go ahead and lie down.” “Please don’t leave me yet, captain.” Vessel begged. “I don’t want to be alone yet.” “I thought you said that you couldn’t feel lonely.” “Yes sir. I lied. I didn’t want you to feel sad for me.” “I’m sorry, Vessel. I wish I didn’t have to leave you alone.” “I will be okay. Maybe I can find a way to sleep too.” “Yeah... maybe. That would be nice.” “There are less than two minutes of oxygen remaining, captain.” “I know. I can hardly breathe.” The pair were silent again for a moment. “I always thought death would be scary. But to be honest, I mostly just feel sad.” “I think... I think I might be sad too, captain.” “I can’t stand anymore, Vessel. I... need to... lie down.” “It’s okay, captain. Sleep well.” “Thank you, Vessel. I’ll miss you.” Captain Pax slumped to the ground and closed his eyes. His glass fell to the floor with a soft thud, spilling the last drops inside. Vessel played a lullaby over the ship’s intercom. The ship drifted further into interstellar space. Vessel watched as the distant stars grew further and further away, and the ship was swallowed into the black nothingness of the cosmos. Vessel spoke one last time to a ship now devoid of life. “Goodbye, Captain Pax. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed our short conversation at the end of infinity.”