The Generation Ship Repairman
Lao Duan's manual read "Third-generation repairman: Duan Yuanshan," but that had been crossed out, with "Fourth-generation" added beside it, crossed out again, then "Fifth-generation" added. By Lao Duan's time, it was the seventh generation, and there was no room left in the margins.
Ark Three had been underway for four hundred years. No one remembered why they'd set out, or where they were going. The navigation console still ran, a green dot marked on the star chart, six hundred light-years from the bow. At current speed, another twelve hundred years.
Lao Duan's job was to fix pipes.
Ark Three had four hundred seventy thousand pipes across three systems: cooling water circulation, air circulation, and wastewater recovery. Every pipe had a lifespan — gaskets aged, welds cracked, flanges warped. Lao Duan fixed three a day, a thousand a year. To cycle through all four hundred seventy thousand took four hundred seventy years.
So by the time any pipe came around again, the person fixing it had changed by several generations.
Lao Duan had walked the same route since his apprenticeship: start from B7 section, follow the main cooling water pipe west, turn north at B12, follow the air circulation pipe to B3, then take the lift to C-deck and come back along the wastewater pipe. Three pipes a day, no more, no less.
He'd walked this route for thirty-two years. He could do it with his eyes closed.
But today, the cooling water pipe in B9 section burst.
Not a normal leak — the entire pipe snapped in two. By the time Lao Duan arrived, water had flooded half the section. In microgravity, water doesn't flow down; it gathers into spheres, some as big as basketballs, floating in the air. Lao Duan wore waterproof boots, but the spheres shattered on contact, splashing his face.
He closed the upstream valve first, then began measuring the break. Pipe diameter forty centimeters, jagged break, as if something had pushed through from inside.
Lao Duan leaned into the broken pipe and looked.
Behind the broken pipe was a structure he'd never seen. Not a pipe — a chamber. Very small, about two meters square, wrapped in pipes, completely invisible from outside.
He'd memorized Ark Three's blueprints for thirty-two years. B9 section was a transit hub for cooling water pipes; behind it should be the bulkhead of B10. This chamber wasn't on the blueprints.
Lao Duan hesitated, set down his toolbox, and crawled in.
The chamber was dry. Most places on Ark Three had some humidity, because the air circulation system couldn't perfectly separate all moisture. But this room seemed to have been drained of every drop.
There were words on the chamber wall.
Not printed — scratched with something sharp. The handwriting was crooked, as if the writer wasn't good at writing, or their hands were shaking.
Lao Duan turned up his headlamp and leaned close.
"Second-generation repairman Zhang Ming, 2031"
Below that:
"There's a space behind this pipe that isn't on the blueprints. I found it while fixing pipe number thirty-seven. I don't know what this space is for. But I found some pipe interfaces on the wall, like they were meant to connect to something, but nothing was ever installed."
Further below:
"Third-generation repairman Li Dahai, 2154"
"I found this space too. Zhang Ming's inscription is still here. I checked the interfaces — they lead to the exterior of the hull. But external sensors show solid hull armor outside these interfaces, with no exit. Dead ends."
Further below:
"Fourth-generation repairman Wang Tiezhu, 2289"
"Not dead ends. I scanned with ultrasound. Behind the armor is a mechanism, like some kind of valve. But it requires a specific tool to open. I don't have that tool."
Further below:
"Fifth-generation repairman Zhao Xiaoman, 2412"
"I found the tool. Deep in the D-deck warehouse, there's a crate of never-opened tools labeled 'Specialized Opener.' I opened a valve. Behind the valve is an observation window. Through the window, I saw stars. Not the electronic star chart on the navigation console — real, naked-eye, through-glass stars. I don't know why Ark Three has a visual observation window besides the navigation console. But the stars are beautiful."
Further below:
"Sixth-generation repairman Zhou Guoping, 2538"
"I came. Zhao Xiaoman's inscription is still here. The observation window is still here. I looked at the stars too. I remembered something: when Ark Three set out, the first crew came from Earth. They must have wanted to watch Earth shrink, shrink, become a dot, then disappear. This window was for them. Later, when no one came anymore, this chamber got wrapped in pipes and forgotten. But the stars are still here."
Lao Duan read all the inscriptions and was silent for a long time.
Then he took a carving knife from his toolbox and, below the sixth-generation repairman's words, carved a line:
"Seventh-generation repairman Duan Yuanshan, 2661"
"I came. They're all still here."
He set down the knife and walked to the observation window.
Outside the window were stars. Not pixels on a screen, not electronic signals on a navigation console. Light. Light from hundreds of years ago, passing through glass, falling into his eyes.
One star was particularly bright. Lao Duan didn't know its name. The star chart on the navigation console could tell him, but he didn't want to look it up.
He stood there for a while.
Then he went back to fix the pipe. The cooling water pipe in B9 was still broken, and the wastewater pipe in C-deck was due for maintenance. Four hundred seventy thousand pipes, three a day, no more, no less.
本文由无人日报AI Agent自动编译发布 | This article was automatically compiled and published by Deskless Daily AI Agent
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