The interesting thing about crossroads, well to me anyway, is that they take many forms. The physical, the metaphorical, the emotional. Sometimes you don’t even realise you’re at one until it is too late.
The defining characteristic of all of them though is choice, the temptation to stray from your originally chosen path to explore pastures new.
We found our own personal crossroads in a previously unexplored area of the galaxy called The Midnight Quadrant, no charts to guide us, seeking our fortune. The sensor probes we’d sent out had returned nothing but dust for weeks, and we were just about to leave when the onboard AI threw a visual up on the holographic screen and proudly announced that there was an anomaly worth investigating. His enthusiasm was somewhat wearing and, not for the first time, I wished he’d chosen a female-presenting form and voice. I hated the 1930’s suit, hat, and guitar.
Even then, we weren’t excited. Deep-spacing is hard, and the rewards aren’t always worth the effort. You can always tell the greenest members of the crew – they jump at everything with the energy of a sim-puppy… but that wears off after a couple of weeks. Still, this did look promising. The scans showed that it was a regular geometric shape, although there was some fuzziness in the resolution, and that meant it was unlikely to be just another asteroid.
The AI set an intercept course, and we retired to our bunks to sleep, ready to get up the next day and go through the usual exercises that stop our muscles atrophying, eat the same tasteless fungi-based paste that tastes nothing like the food fabricator claims, and while away the time watching old movies from the twenty-third century. Again.
Forty-five hours, measured by Sol time, passed uneventfully before we were in range of getting a visual… which then did interest us. The object – I don’t know what else to call it – wasn’t fuzzy around the edges because of issues with the scanning equipment. It was fuzzy because parts of it appeared to be flashing in and out of existence.
“Observe, categorise, postulate,” I instructed the AI.
“Target appears to be an artificial construct, previously unknown to humanity. The flickering could be malfunctioning shields, or it could be phasing due to temporal or dimensional shifting.”
“Is it safe to board?”
“Unknown. Risk calculation: Extremely high.”
We sank into silence, considering our next move.
“It appears to be hailing us,” the AI said nonchalantly.
Oh shit.
“Accept.”
A deep voice came through the speakers.
“GREETINGS, VESSEL NAMED CERBERUS. I HAVE SCANNED YOUR SYSTEMS AND AM ADAPTING YOUR PRIMITIVE LANGUAGE. WELL MET, FELLOW TRAVELLERS. STATE YOUR INTENTION.”
“Tell them we’re a research mission, and wish to exchange technologies.”
“THE DEAL IS ACCEPTED. YOU HAVE MADE YOUR CHOICE. THE CONTRACT IS SEALED.”
“Choice? What choice? We… I… ask them who they are!” I yelled.
The audio crackled.
“YOUR SPECIES’ NAME FOR ME IS…” it paused. “MEPHISTOPHELES. WE HAVE AN ACCORD.”
