Nowhere to Turn

We are taken to our first external view of the Aniara now in deep space. It is faintly illuminated by our ever-distancing yellow star, whose own light is barely able to penetrate the ancient blackness around it. The low-rumbling ship appears to be moving at a very slow pace.

In her cabin, MR is in her cramped bathroom, staring at the mirror while brushing her teeth. The Astronomer is in her own bed, writing in her journal. 

Finished with her dental hygiene, MR gets into her bed before asking her roommate a question.

“Can I ask you something, as an astronomer?”

“Ask away,” invites The Astronomer.

“Do you have any idea which celestial body we’ll be able to turn at?” referring to Chefone’s earlier declaration that they will use the mass of a natural object in space as a gravity assist to redirect the Aniara back towards the planet Mars.

MR’s query is greeted with silence. Thinking she may have simply not heard the answer, MR asks The Astronomer if she said something.

“I didn’t say anything,” confirms The Astronomer. “Because I’m not… anticipating anything.”

“Okay. I thought you knew about that stuff.”

“I do know about that stuff. The answer is ‘none’.”

MR repeats The Astronomer’s last word and when the woman reiterates it, MR sits up in bed in disbelief before swinging over the edge of her bed to look at The Astronomer beneath.  

“There’s no celestial body to turn at,” confirms The Astronomer yet again.

“You’re kidding?” says MR, in shock.

“GM-54 is the closest we’ll get to. But we’ll never reach its mass. The pilots must have figured that out too.” The Astronomer adds that she does not “get what they’re doing on the captain’s bridge.”

MR lays back down in bed, concerned and thinking.

Without much else to say on the matter, The Astronomer asks MR to turn off the cabin lights so she can sleep. 

Their room goes dark. In but a brief moment of time, MR hears The Astronomer start to snore.

COMMENT: Regarding The Astronomer mentioning a celestial object designated GM-54, there is a real worldlet with that name, 2014 GM54. It is a Trans-Neptunian Object (TNO) about the size of the American state of Connecticut, orbiting Sol in almost the same time period as Pluto, once every 248 years. It would be a long reach, but this might be one explanation for the presence of the Kuiper Belt icon on the ship’s navigation screen.

However, according to this entry in Wikipedia, they claim the film is referring to planetoid 54 Alexandra:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/54_Alexandra

Alexandra (minor planet designation: 54 Alexandra) is a carbonaceous asteroid from the intermediate asteroid belt, approximately 155 kilometers [96.31 miles] in diameter. It was discovered by German-French astronomer Hermann Goldschmidt [1802-1866] on 10 September 1858, and named after the German explorer Alexander von Humboldt [1769-1859]; it was the first asteroid to be named after a male.

In Popular Culture

In the Swedish film Aniara (2018) it is mentioned that 54 Alexandra is the closest celestial body which the off-course and out-of-control spacecraft will approach before it leaves the Solar System.

I am not certain where Wikipedia came up with this claim, as they provide no references. I could not find it elsewhere and there is no mention of this planetoid in the 1956 poem. 54 Alexandra might make sense as a slingshot target, for it is much closer than 2014 GM54 in the Kuiper Belt. However, all this speculation seems moot since The Astronomer says the Aniara will not get close enough to any celestial objects to utilize their mass to get back on course to their original destination. 

COMMENT: Ironically, Aniara won the “Asteroid” Prize in 2019 for the Best International Film award at that year’s Trieste Science+Fiction Festival.

Unable to sleep at such disturbing news, MR gets out of her bed, dresses quickly, and exits her cabin. She walks down her corridor past a mother holding and gently rocking her baby: The tyke is swaddled in a white blanket. It is apparent that the mother is trying to get her infant to sleep.

We are given a brief perspective of the Aniara hull again, closer this time. In the background glows the center of the Milky Way galaxy, a huge bulge of many billions of suns over 26,000 light years from our Sol system.

MR finds herself in a corridor where there are large windows facing the outside of the ship. She stops and looks at the central band of our galaxy in the immense distance. Breathing shakily, MR takes a swig from an unlabeled bottle of alcohol she acquired somewhere along her current journey.

As she continues to stare at the countless stars, MR begins to gasp for breath: She is having a panic attack at the existential realization of what The Astronomer said, exacerbated at what she is witnessing in the void.

MR runs from these indifferent suns all the way to the Mima Hall, still grasping her bottle. The Mimarobe quickly heads upstairs to activate the Mima, which turns from flowing blue to churning orange-yellow-red along the ceiling of the hall.

Running back down to the main hall, MR slips off her shoes, then lays down on the floor in a fetal position, cradling her alcohol and still gasping for air.

We see what MR is experiencing through the Mima: A deep, lush, and green temperate zone forest. MR walks barefoot through these calming woods on dry, dead leaves. Nearby birds are chirping. She looks around at the beautiful tree canopy, seeming content.

The film does another one of its dramatic scene shifts: This time we go from a peaceful forest to staring down a large metal vat full of a whitish liquid resembling oatmeal being automatically stirred. A pan out shows kitchen workers in green aprons and darker brimless caps preparing algae for mass consumption.

We May as Well Live Here

Another scene shift: We follow MR moving quickly up a concourse where a crowd of people are gathered around a closed door between stores, guarded by a single officer.

MR proclaims to the crowd that she works here as she cuts through them and pushes open the large green metal door, bringing her into a two-toned access corridor. MR finds an older balding man wearing a horizontally striped shirt under a green sweatshirt sitting on the floor against one wall. He is attended by two ship officers on either side of him: One is The Intendent and the other is a younger man with a dark beard.

“It’s some kind of panic attack or psychosis,” explains one officer to MR about this situation.

“Hi,” says MR to the distraught man. “I work as a Mimarobe. I’d like you to come with me.”

The man on the floor responds to MR in Spanish. The bearded officer translates his words for MR.

“He’s asking if you’re a devil?”

MR merely stares at the translator, who continues his task.

“A woman at the Planetarium told him; she’s an astronomer and she knows…. She says we won’t be able to turn around.”

“No, that’s not true,” MR lies to the man via the translator. “Tell him… Tell him to come with me, I promise he’ll feel better.”

Still panicking, the Spanish man reaches out and grabs MR by her shirt collar, hitting the Mimarobe on the left side of her face. Suddenly realizing what he has just done, the man quickly pulls away his hand and stares at MR in fear.

Clearly not happy with this physical assault, MR looks at the Spanish man and says nothing for a moment. Then she leans in closer to him.

“What do you think life on Mars is?” asks MR without expecting an actual answer from the target of her ire. “Some kind of paradise? It’s not. It’s cold. Nothing grows except for a small frost-proof tulip, this small.”

MR aggressively gestures with her index and thumb at the Spanish man to show him the general puny size of this specialized tulip species – and perhaps the Spanish man and every other human being in comparison to the rest of the Cosmos as well. 

COMMENT 1 of 2: Since it is highly unlikely that terrestrial tulips would be found as a native plant on Mars, the alternate answer is that this humanity is trying to terraform the Red Planet to one day make it livable for Earthly flora and fauna. It will probably be a long process that will not bear literal fruit for generations. Emigrating humans will have to remain in artificial environments for now, be it in open space structures or in dwellings on other worlds. 

Even more difficult to overcome will be the fact that Mars’ mass is ten times less than Earth’s, making the smaller planet’s gravitational pull only 38 percent that of Earth. The only mass-comparable world in our Sol system would be Venus, but that place has its own special environmental issues which would make conventional settling quite difficult. 

COMMENT 2 of 2: It is interesting that tulips were chosen as the flower mentioned by MR in the film. The makers undoubtedly took this directly from the Martinson poem in Canto 40, where the author mentions “black frigitulips grow[ing], tempered to the planetary freeze.”

Were both the poet and the filmmakers trying to inject a symbol of hope into their work? I say this because tulips are symbols of new beginnings and rebirth, which is what the humans settling Mars are trying to do with their lives on that world. As for other relevant comparisons regarding this flower, I quote the following from this page:

https://foliagefriend.com/tulip-flower-meaning/

In spirituality, tulips are considered to symbolize new beginnings and rebirth. The flower’s ability to come back every year, stronger and better than before, is also one reason why it is thought to represent new life. Tulips are also believed to symbolize love, purity, innocence, forgiveness, and trust, making them a popular choice for religious and spiritual ceremonies.

Furthermore, tulips are often associated with enlightenment and spiritual awakening. The flower’s vibrant colors and delicate petals are said to represent the beauty and fragility of life, reminding us to appreciate every moment and live in the present. Tulips are also believed to have a calming effect on the mind and body, making them a popular choice for meditation and relaxation practices.

“Want me to translate?” asks the bearded officer of MR. Frustrated and feeling it would be pointless in any case, MR has only one response for the man.

“Just say we may as well live here.” 

Sometime later, we see the Spanish man at a food court getting a meal. He is looking a bit sheepish at his recent panic behavior. 

The man seems to be recovering from his bout of hysteria when he looks over at some tall black windows adjacent to the food court. Seeing through them the same stars that MR had earlier, he starts to panic again, yelling loudly in his native language and gesticulating wildly. 

Two nearby officers, a man and a woman, rush in and restrain the Spanish man before escorting him away. The court area crowd stare after him. One has to wonder if they worry when they will become the next existential “victims” of the very hot yet ironically cold stars.

The terrified man is brought to the one place on the ship that might calm him down: The Mima. As the two officers who escorted him in stand nearby at the ready, the Mimarobe coaxes the Spanish man to lie down among many other passengers already utilizing the Mima and place his face into a pillow. 

That task completed, MR notices the two officers are staring up at the shimmering patterns of the Mima on the ceiling. As happened with Chebeba, the man and woman become transfixed with the memories being released by the AI and collapse onto the floor. This time, MR is able to rouse the pair and gets them to leave the Mima Hall to continue their regular duties before they inadvertently become her latest clients.

COMMENT: I know the spaceship Aniara was on an interplanetary journey meant only to last three weeks; this is faster than a typical sailing vessel trek across the Atlantic Ocean back in the pre-steam and diesel-powered ship days. However, I remain both surprised and doubtful that there would be neither trained therapists nor spiritual advisors/clerics on board. Modern nautical cruise ships have both chaplains of multiple faiths and chapels to take care of their passengers’ spiritual needs, and most such cruises last but approximately one week and never leave Earth.

This is especially surprising since these thousands of passengers are fleeing a dying Earth and many of them bear both visible physical scars and hidden emotional ones from the plight of their home planet. One might also assume that the authorities would want to at least offer some mental health assistance to these emigrants if for no other reason than to reduce the number of potential safety and social issues which could arise when moving multiple traumatized refugees to an entirely new world with limited resources and room.

The Mimarobe seems to be the closest person to fulfill these more traditional caregiving roles, yet even she and the Mima were mostly ignored at first as just another form of entertainment and distraction offered on the Aniara. That there is an obvious lack of official spirituality and similar forms of comfort and help in this traveling artificial society speaks volumes about this future humanity. 

Our Own Little Planet

Later on, MR finally gains an audience with Captain Chefone in his office about the situation with the Mima. MR comes straight to the point.

“I really need some help. This is untenable,” begins MR. “I need to train them as well. Teach them to resist the images to maintain focus in the room.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Chefone responds. “How many do you need?”

“How many…?” MR says, a bit taken aback that her Captain has agreed to her request so readily.

“To help you out,” he clarifies.

“Right… five? Six.”

Happy with Chefone’s offer, MR then lets something slip out.

“People will freak out when they learn we’ll never be able to…”

MR pauses when she sees the look on Chefone’s face. 

“Never be able to do what?” he asks with a stony expression. “Who told you that?”

The Intendent, who has been in the same room with Chefone and MR quietly listening, turns away. MR becomes awkward, looking away and saying nothing.

“Right, I’ll get you at least eight people,” Chefone finally answers. MR quietly thanks him.

Chefone gets up from his chair and walks over to a shelf along an office wall. He picks up two stubby solid cylinders which resemble bongos. He places them on the floor near MR.

Putting one hand each on the cylinders, Chefone does a handstand as part of his exercise routine. Then he carries on with his conversation.

“Once the passengers get used to eating algae, we’ll go public with the situation,” Chefone informs the Mimarobe. “I mean, the fact is…”

“The fact is what?” she asks him.

“We’ve built our own little planet.”

3:e Aret (Year 3) – Yurgen (The Yurg)

In the third year of their three-week voyage, we watch the Aniara’s dark form passing us from right to left. Once again, if we didn’t know better, one might assume we were flying past a generic modern city at night. As the vessel rumbles before us, the faint sound of music starts to rise up. 

We find ourselves descending into a dance area: Strobe lights sweep about as an almost hypnotic techno beat reaches its peak volume, controlled by an actual disc jockey, or DJ, off to one side. 

On the floor are groups of people of various ages performing an almost choreographed dance routine to the music. It is reminiscent of the kind of formal ballroom dancing once done in the early Nineteenth Century where lines of men and ladies moved in specific patterns, but with techno music.

COMMENT: Here is a clip of this scene, to give you a better idea of the type of music and the dancing going on: 

Here is the actual music titled Dorisburg – Tundra, by Aniara Recordings, no less:

Later, MR strolls up to the bar in this discotheque, where she meets a young man named Daisi. They soon move outside into a corridor, where the two begin to make out. Just then, Isagel happens to walk by and observes MR and Daisi together, but expresses no outward reactions. MR sees her crush staring at them and becomes worried. Despite this event, the couple do hook up in Daisi’s cabin, but MR decides to leave him sooner than he expected.

COMMENT 1 of 2: In the 1956 poem, Daisy Doody is a young woman whose hedonistic escape from their fate is through a dance called the Yurg. This initially attracts MR to Daisy, and they briefly become a couple. Soon, however, just as in the film, the Mimarobe realizes they have little else in common and do not last.

COMMENT 2 of 2: During their make out scene in the film, the Daisi character says some futuristic slang, telling MR not to “be so lori.” When she questions the meaning of that word, Daisi throws yet another term at MR: “Don’t get all gammed down.” 

While the word lori does not seem to exist in the Martinson poem, a version of gammed was inspired by the source as Daisy Doody says to MR in Canto 12: “You’re gamming out and getting yile and snowzy. But do like me, I never sit and frowzy.” Author Martinson experimented with many new words for his denizens of the future.

I consider it a missed opportunity that the filmmakers did not try to incorporate more such language into their future world: Stanley Kubrick took many slang words from the original 1962 novel for A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess (1917-1993) right into his 1971 cinematic version. The results only enhanced the social commentary in that film by making that fictional world much richer and exotic, drawing in its audiences. It also did not take long for audiences to get the meanings of the main characters’ slang, or at least their intentions.

This being their first feature film, the joint directors and screenplay authors of Aniara, Pella Kågerman and Hugo Lilja, may simply not have been up to the task of such worldbuilding. Or perhaps they felt the heavy use of slang, even words taken straight from the epic poem, would somehow detract from the vital social messages they were trying to aim at their contemporary audience. 

After all, Angst SF only uses and needs science fiction and its trappings such as outer space as an attractor, a prop, and a deflector. The Message is first and foremost: Anything that does not directly enhance it is often considered superfluous and therefore unnecessary.

Green is Good

Our perspective switches briefly to that clothing store which once offered pressure suits for living on the Red Planet: Now they display regular dresses in their large window, deliberately obscuring the Mars panorama in the background.

We watch some children playing a form of kickball in a corridor, representing the adaptability of youth to changing life situations – or perhaps just good ol’ youthful ignorance and the inability to focus on one subject for very long. 

At the same time, as MR is riding up an escalator holding a cup of water, the PA system makes a ship-wide announcement: 

“An important message for all passengers: Right now we’re offering double points for new algae plant employees. Sign up for duty at your nearest desk.”

While this goes on, MR takes a sip from her water cup, only to pull it back from her mouth while covering her lips with a finger and declaring its contents “nasty” out loud.

Meanwhile, The Intendent and Captain Chefone are in one of the ship’s bars also tasting samples of the ship’s water. After wondering if what is in a particular glass is contaminated with sulfates, Chefone tells his subordinate that they will “need more people on the water purification plant,” which The Intendent acknowledges and walks off to perform his ordered task. Chefone swears and then adds that aloud that “this is not good.”

We cinematically move to a view of a murky water tank full of algae. We and a tour group comprised mainly of children are led through the room of the Aniara’s algae processing plant by an older man wearing a plastic sanitary cap. 

“All the food we eat on the craft comes from here,” the worker explains to the group, who are also decorated with sanitary caps upon their heads: Perhaps they are the ones answering the PA’s earlier request for more help with the algae plant. 

“Look at that beautiful color,” he exclaims. “If it’s brown, it’s no good. It must be washed.”

The man leads the group to another room where he holds up a clear bag of the leafy green product and declares that this alga is the “good stuff.” He adds that “the only hard thing about this job is getting up in the morning.” This rouses a bit of chuckling from the crowd.

The scene switches to the Mimarobe attempting to move through a long line of passengers wanting to experience the Mima. She also encounters many others just leaving the hall. A little blond girl with glasses gives MR a drawing she made.

“It’s a tree, a duck, and a sea,” the girl explains of her creation. A grateful MR says her artwork is “beautiful.”

A tall older man with spectacles and adorned with a dress shirt asks MR if he “could stay a little longer” in the Mima Hall. MR replies that he cannot. The man attempts to bribe MR by offering to transfer points from his ship card to hers. MR turns him down again and he walks off, indignant.

When everyone has left the area, MR slips into the Mima Hall. Looking down from its balcony, we see there is a solitary figure still left in the room: This is Isagel, in her officer uniform. As MR watches, Isagel slowly gets up from the floor and looks at MR to thank her.

As Isagel starts to walk out, MR quickly explains to the pilot below that the guy Isagel saw her with this morning meant nothing. Isagel merely stares at MR for a moment and then continues her exit of the hall. As soon as she knows Isagel is gone, MR bangs her head down on her folded hands laying on the balcony and grunts in frustration.

Tiny Bubbles

MR and The Astronomer are sitting by themselves in what must be the Stardeck observation room, judging by the collection of personal-size telescopes in the background. MR is pacing about, talking animatedly about Isagel while her cabin mate listens patiently with a glass of alcohol and resting in a stuffed bright green couch.

“There’s much to be ashamed of in life, but that’s nothing,” we hear The Astronomer say to MR about her earlier actions.

“I don’t get her!” MR exclaims in frustration. “It’s like she has no emotions.”

“You need to understand, that’s how pilots are,” The Astronomer explains. “They’re a new kind of fatalists.”

“What?” MR stops pacing.

“They’re experts at repressing their emotions.”

Finally sitting down, MR ponders aloud what her companion just said.

“Isagel… represses her feelings!” MR starts to smile over this new revelation.

“The utter nonsense of living,” adds The Astronomer.

“What?” MR says in surprise. “Being in love is nonsense?”

The Astronomer widens her observations.

“It’s all so peripheral, what we’re doing. It’s so futile, so meaningless.”

The older woman holds up her drinking glass. She points to a tiny but visible speck in its thick base.

“You see this bubble?” she asks MR. The Mimarobe moves in for a closer look.

“If you think of it as Aniara, maybe you’ll understand the vastness of space. You see, the bubble actually moves through the glass. Infinitely slowly. We move forward in the same way. Even if we drift at an incredible speed, it’s as if we’re standing perfectly still.”

The scene, which has spent its last few moments focusing solely on the air bubble while The Astronomer talks, now fades into blackness, except for that singular miniscule object, which almost seems to glow. It is reminiscent of the small moving dot in the opening title sequence of the film.

“That’s us,” says The Astronomer. “A little bubble in the glass of Godhead.”

COMMENT 1 of 2: This scene is adapted from poem Canto 13, where The Astronomer (a male in the original version) gives a similar talk to an audience in the Mima Hall, using a glass bowl embedded with a similar miniscule bubble. Upon being “chilled at such certitude” by the scientist, the Mimarobe flees the hall and searches for the much warmer if ultimately transient comforts of the dancer Daisy Doody.

COMMENT 2 of 2: It is ironic how The Astronomer provides the sober truth of their reality onboard the Aniara as she continually consumes alcohol, often to excess, to ease the emotional pain of their collective reality. The Astronomer may be a trained scientist with a rational and cynical outlook, but Roberta Twelander is also quite human. That she has the added burden of being one of the few people onboard who intellectually comprehends humanity’s miniscule place in time and space only compounds The Astronomer’s overwhelming sense of isolation from both her own species and the Universe.

Deliver Me from the Vision

We next find ourselves in MR’s mind, courtesy of the Mima. The Mimarobe is swimming alone in a pond surrounded by a dense green forest. MR lies back peacefully in this water to watch flocks of geese flying silently overhead.

Suddenly, the geese burst apart, their torn bodies plunging into the water around her.

MR awakens in the Mima Hall; she is alone. She rolls her face and body out of her pillow and lies back on floor, panting. MR sits up and stares at Mima, wondering how and why her visions suddenly became so unpleasant and violent.

The Mima reveals nothing apparent; she shows her usual vibrant waves of orange, yellow, and red accompanied by those sounds of electronic ocean waves.

MR welcomes them in. She moves herself up to the monitoring balcony and looks at the guests below with her attendant, who has his head lowered just above the balcony edge. 

Looking at the attendant, MR realizes he is getting lost into the Mima. She slaps him on his right arm and asks him what he is doing. The attendant looks up at her, seemingly confused.

Without either warning or prompting, Mima starts speaking from above in an eerie and echoing mechanical voice. 

“Three-VEB is fighting a cloud of shame. How terror blasts in, how horror blasts out. Deliver me from the vision.”

The semi-mysterious Artilect known as the Mima glows bright orange and yellow above a group of passengers lying on the floor of the Mima Hall. Desperate to escape their fate aboard the Aniara any way they can, the humans attempt to find solace in visions from their past on Earth brought up by the Mima.

Looking about, MR sees one of the people on the floor below, a large bald man with a goatee, starting to moan and spasm as if he is having a nightmare.

MR comes down to floor. As she approaches the man, she notices a few other present guests are beginning to act in a similar fashion.

MR kneels adjacent to the troubled man and produces her small yellow device which shows what people are seeing in their minds during their individual Mima experiences. She places it next to the bald man’s head.

This time, instead of a typical comforting scene of beautiful nature, MR is confronted with a raging forest fire where people are trapped within it, running about and screaming in fear among the burning trees and choking smoke.

MR convinces the man to walk out of the Mima Hall with her, where he lays down on the floor just outside of the main entrance. The man holds the Mimarobe tightly, crying. MR tries to comfort him.

Looking up, the Mimarobe sees a very long line of people waiting to get into the Mima Hall. All of them are focused on her and the man in wonder and concern. MR looks away from the crowd and keeps holding the distraught man for a bit longer.

Back in the Mima Hall, MR starts checking the minds of other guests with her yellow device. Frightened at what she sees, MR looks up at the attendant in the balcony and makes a harsh swiping motion across her neck with her hand, silently signaling him to shut off the Mima. Almost immediately, the room light color changes from yellow to white.

“I’m sorry,” MR interrupts to the passengers lying on the floor. “I’m going to have to close early today.”

The guests look at MR, first with confusion, then a growing frustrating. As they leave the Mima Hall, they begin to complain loudly. One of the disgruntled guests, Libidel, is focused upon as she is seen walking away, with a definite thought on her mind.

Soon after, MR is brought before Chefone by the Intendent: The Captain is working out again, this time in one of the ship’s gym rooms. His face now displays a mustache. Chefone orders MR to sit down, which she does on an adjacent piece of gym equipment.

“How can you throw people out of the Mima Hall?” Chefone demands to know of MR.

“Mima needs to rest,” is her answer.

“How do you know?” he asks.

“She tells me.”

“She tells you?” Chefone is incredulous about this.

“Yes,” MR confirms. “And that she reduces herself to human speech is worrying. She sees everyone’s memories, what they’ve been through…”

“I know how a Mima works,” Chefone interjects rudely.

“Right, but people are starting to see awful things,” MR tries to explain. “I need to close up for a week, preferably a month.”

“That’s too rash,” Chefone snaps back, while moving over to use a different piece of exercise equipment.

“We’ve got a system in place that works. People go to work, most of them contribute….” explains Chefone. “So, we’re not changing things or dictating over Mima images! Right?” he demands of the Mimarobe.

“It’s untenable,” MR replies almost quietly.

Chefone suddenly stands up. As he walks past MR, Chefone yells at her to get out. MR removes herself from his presence as ordered.

No Protection from Mankind

Returning to the Mima Hall, the Mimarobe is with her artificial charge, accompanied by two human attendants in the balcony. Worried and confused, all three of them are looking up at Mima, who is in her blue-green palate state. The AI is speaking again; MR is taking written notes of everything the Mima is saying.

“My conscience aches for the stones,” Mima declares. “I’ve heard them cry their stonely cries, seen the granites white-hot weeping…”

The male attendant turns to his female counterpart and asks her if she understands what the Mima is talking about. The woman simply shakes her head. Her growing fear is evident.

Mima continues unbidden.

“I’ve been troubled by their pains. In the name of Things, I want peace. I will be done with my displays.”

At that very moment, a new batch of guests walk into the Mima Hall. Almost instantly, the ceiling panel changes to its orange and yellow flows of color when reading human minds.

“There is protection from nearly everything…” says the Mima. MR scrambles down to the floor and desperately tries to remove the people beginning their session with the AI.

“Stop! You can’t be in here! Stop!” MR shouts at everyone present, spinning about. The passengers essentially ignore her.

“…but there is no protection from mankind,” Mima concludes.

MR frantically yells at these invaders to get out. 

A new pattern appears on the ceiling, as if the Mima is revealing her inner workings as she prepares for her next action.

“Prolonging the very second when you burst,” Mima says. “How terror blasts in, how horror blast out.”

“Mima!” the Mimarobe cries up at her.

Mima makes one final verbal declaration…

“How grim it always is, one’s detonation.”

MR screams “No!”, but it is too late. 

There is a tremendous blinding flash as the Mima bursts. Debris like ash and fog rain down on MR and the passengers. MR is screaming and crying at everyone, but we cannot hear her. Behind and around MR, people stumble about in this artificial climate.

Later, MR has returned to her cabin, where she lays in her bed on her left side, unmoving. It is apparent she has been crying.

There is a knock at her door. MR doesn’t respond. The knock repeats, but MR continues to lay still. 

The scene changes to the wide corridor outside the Mima Hall, which has been transformed into a vast memorial to the AI. Many passengers are either standing or kneeling before the outside wall of the hall: They have covered it in memorial artwork, posters, and letters quite reminiscent of the kind of public memorials practiced on Earth after certain horrific events both manmade and natural where human deaths and destruction were involved.

The Aniara passengers collectively mourn the loss of their main source of escape from their existential nightmare outside the Mima Hall

As the residents of the Aniara mourn their primary source of comfort and escape, Libidel is seen talking to a group of older men nearby. We hear her tell them that “the Mimarobe stayed in there at night and kept Mima all to herself.” Her captive audience responds with indignity.

Back at MR’s cabin, The Astronomer returns and has a question for the Mimarobe.

“Has Isagel been here?” the older woman asks MR. “I ran into her out in the corridor.”

“I need to get back,” is MR’s reply: She stirs from her bed to return to the Mima Hall.

“Rumor has it you will be punished,” warns The Astronomer. MR stops climbing halfway down the side of their bunk beds.

“Punished?”

“Yes.”

We return to the bar we saw earlier, where we find Captain Chefone, The Intendent, and several other officers holding court. Chefone is eating a meal from a bowl. Isagel enters and approaches her boss.

“You can’t blame the Mimarobe,” Isagel comes right to the point. “It’s not her fault.”

“Two things,” Chefone begins his reply. “One: We can do whatever we want. Two: She’s gotten a number of complaints.”

“What has she done?” the pilot demands to know. The Intendent answers her question.

“She’s been locking herself in the hall to sabotage Mima.”

“You know that’s not true,” Isagel fires back.

A smirk finds its way onto Chefone’s face.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this upset,” he tells Isagel. “Nice to see you’ve got a little heart beating in there…”

Chefone attempts to touch Isagel’s chest. The pilot responds by kneeing the Captain in the groin. Chefone falls to the floor doubled-up in pain.

Realizing she has just struck her commanding officer, Isagel backs up and quickly leaves the bar, as Chefone shouts for someone to stop her.

Elsewhere in the ship, we find MR walking back to her cabin. MR suddenly freezes when she notices two officers nearby talking about her to someone on their radio.

“We’re headed for her cabin now,” the male officer says. “It’s 3151.”

MR begins walking towards the officers, or so it seems: Instead, she diverts herself into a nearby elevator. The officers see where MR is going and try to stop her, but they are too late.

In the elevator, MR attempts to flee to one of the higher passenger cabin levels. The electronic directory menu on the wall shows her progress away from the officers floor by floor. 

Without warning, the elevator suddenly halts, then starts moving again. MR watches the floor numbers on the wall menu begin to decrease, undoubtedly towards the waiting officers. Realizing that the ship’s crew has taken over control of her car, MR hits the emergency stop button.

“Emergency stop is activated,” alerts a female mechanical voice. “The operator has been notified and will arrive shortly.”

MR quickly exits the elevator and attempts to find an escape route on her current floor. Peering down the various corridors, she realizes they only lead to more cabins. They are all disconcertingly similar in design: Grayish, dimly lit, and lacking in any real character.

Choosing one hallway at random, the Mimarobe walks the length of the corridor, where she encounters the same group of men who were at the Mima memorial earlier listening to Libidel spreading rumors about MR. They eye the Mimarobe suspiciously as she moves uncomfortably past them. 

MR arrives at the end of the corridor, where is she brought to a halt by a single panel of those same tall windows whose earlier views of the stars had given her a panic attack. MR stares at her reflection in the glass, which is otherwise surrounded by the blackness of space. The two pursuing officers soon join MR’s reflection in the window and calmly escort her away.

We see MR’s pursuit and capture in part through various security cameras that are seemingly everywhere inside the ship. They are being monitored by another officer in a remote control room. Above his rather unkempt desk, complete with a dirty keyboard, this officer has multiple active camera views splayed across several large monitor screens. 

As MR is shown being led away in one corner of a monitor, in another sector we view a horrific sight via a second monitor: The Intendent is violently striking over and over someone lying on the floor: His victim is just out of camera view. 

We soon learn that The Intendent was exacting his own retribution on Isagel for her insubordination to Chefone – or was this at the Captain’s orders? We discover this atrocity along with MR as she finds herself with Isagel in a poorly lit detention area somewhere in the belly of the Aniara. The pilot lays on the floor of this brig with a bruised and bloody face.

QUESTIONS: Did the Aniara always have a brig or at least some place to hold and isolate passengers who commit crimes and are a potential danger to others? Or was this something set up by the officers once it was realized that the ship is essentially their new and permanent home? 

Nautical cruise ships have brigs, and they usually spend less time at sea than the Aniara was going to be in space during its original destination plan. Being the practical and materialistic culture that exists here, it could be almost a foregone conclusion that a detention section was part of the Aniara’s original design plan for its thousands of anticipated civilian passengers.

4:e året (Year 4) – Kulterna (The Cults)

In the fourth year of Aniara’s journey through space, we find a group of passengers on their knees facing a collection of those tall windows looking out into the void. The group is quietly chanting to the distant stars outside to “come closer. Give us light.” As they repeat this mantra, the members of this cult sweep their arms out towards the windows, then back to their chests.

As this activity goes on, we are with Captain Chefone and The Intendent in someone’s cabin. We learn that the resident of this room has committed suicide. His white bedsheets are stained with his own red blood.

The Intendent is reading a last note to Chefone.

“He does not, and I quote, ‘want his body to be buried in the Light-year grave.’”

“What exactly does that mean?” asks Chefone as he turns away from the bed. The Captain now wears a full dark beard. 

We finally see the face of the now former occupant of this cabin, lying naked in the bed and covered in blood. It appears to be the Spanish man that MR had once helped by introducing him to the Mima.

“Seems he was frightened of space,” is The Intendent’s answer.

“What’s the suicide count,” Chefone asks his subordinate offscreen as the camera lingers on dead man.

“Forty-eight,” is The Intendent’s reply.

“Forty-eight this month?” asks Chefone for clarification. The Intendent affirms this number.

“That includes the family in 32?”

“Yes.”

Their tallying done, the two officers leave the cabin. The ultimate fates of the Spanish man’s body and all the other recently deceased passengers are left unknown to us.

The scene switches to the Aniara’s brig section, where MR and Isagel have been incarcerated for the past year. We find them standing next to each other among a line of fellow inmates as an officer walks past each of them. To certain prisoners he simply says “you” and they move forward from the line. 

MR and Isagel are selected last in this fashion. The officer herds the chosen inmates into another room, where they encounter The Intendent. He hands each prisoner a small purple card.

“We’re in need of staff,” The Intendent explains. “You’ll be reassigned to your jobs.”

As the bald officer hands each person a card, he verbalizes their new positions written on the card with one word, such as “algae” and “deoxidation”. 

At first, Isagel refuses to take the assignment card handed to her. 

“You can stay down there, up to you,” The Intendent says bluntly to Isagel regarding the brig.

MR begs Isagel in a high whisper to take it. Her companion complies.

“You’ll be going back to Logistics,” The Intendent tells Isagel. He then hands a card to MR.

“MR, you’re going to teach,” the Intendent states. “We need to focus on kids with a talent for tensor theory.” MR wordlessly nods in response.

The former prisoners are then told to find a properly fitting uniform from a nearby stack of clothes and to “make us proud.” MR actually smiles and laughs a little in relief as she chooses her uniform, probably the first new outfit she has worn in over a year.

The two women are assigned their own suite, as they are now clearly a couple. The place is much nicer and more spacious than the standard small ship cabin MR once occupied. A large bed dominates the center of the room.

As they look around at their new home, MR asks how Isagel could have considered wanting to remain down in the brig.

“I’ve got my principles,” Isagel answers.

“You don’t say,” returns MR, bemused.

There is a small rectangular radio in the room. Isagel turns it on: A song is playing, with the singer crooning “Stay with me forever.” Isagel looks at MR and smiles. MR giggles.

As the two embrace, the lyrics continue: “We’re gonna make it through the harder times.” They hold each other and slowly dance to the music. The couple eventually find their way to the suite’s bathroom, where they make love in the shower. We note that the bathroom has a view of the stars through a large circular window. 

Technobabble and Seeking Absolution

The next morning, MR and Isagel, wearing their new uniforms, walk up a set of non-functional escalator stairs to their new assignments. At the top of the stairs, the couple kiss each other goodbye before taking their own directions.

As MR moves down one of the Aniara‘s wide corridors, she sees just how much of the shipboard custodial work and maintenance have fallen away: Plastic trash bags and loose garbage line the walls of the half-lit hallway. Some stores are either shuttered with metal gates or sealed up with clear plastic and tape. 

Among the trash, MR discovers a woman splayed out on the floor, face down. MR starts to move towards this person, wondering if she is still alive: MR stops herself when she sees the woman stir a bit. 

The scene switches to MR in her classroom, lecturing to her young students sitting at their desks. Many of them seem only half-interested in the subject matter at best.

“Let’s talk about artificial gravitation,” says MR. “I’m quoting: ‘Only with the new era’s fifth tensor theory’ did it become possible to outsmart gravity. Previously, we had tried shooting ourselves out of the curve vectors, or, which worked slightly better, pulsating the spaceships ‘out of the fields using force cadences.’”

COMMENT: MR’s verbiage reminds me of the scenes in the 2014 science fiction film Interstellar where they said they had solved the “gravity problem” of spaceflight, without ever really describing what it is, how it works, or what made it different from previous methods. 

Interstellar is a classic example of Angst SF in this regard, despite having big names, a big budget, and the most scientifically accurate representation of a black hole up to that time. Both films are also playing the technobabble card, made virtually infamous by the Star Trek franchise which created terms to explain its aspects that otherwise defy known science and technology. 

For more of my thoughts on Interstellar, read my essay here:

https://www.centauri-dreams.org/2014/12/19/interstellar-herald-to-the-stars-or-a-sirens-song/

Our vista changes to a view down one of those innumerable long grayish hallways connecting cabins that honeycomb the Aniara. We see a small collection of passengers coming in our direction, but this is not just some ordinary group of people. Instead, we are witness to yet another cult that has sprung up among this involuntary sampling of humanity, one that is far more bizarre and frightening in its appearance and behavior than the ones chanting “give us light” to the stars earlier.

Strapped to a former luggage cart like a team of horses, several naked people are seen crawling on their hands and knees slowly pulling the cart. Riding this contraption is a young woman with long blond hair who appears to be blind. The members surrounding the woman chant “forgive us” repeatedly as they move along the hallway.

Mima, We Pray at Your Grave

Thankfully, we are taken away from this medievalesque moment to join MR and Isagel enjoying a swim together in the Aniara’s large pool, apparently being better maintained than the ship’s thoroughfares and stores. 

After their time in the pool, the pair retire to an adjacent steam room. They are slightly startled to find they are not alone: A nude woman is sitting in one corner; she turns out to be Chebeba, whom we met early on in our first look inside the Mima Hall when MR asked her to volunteer as an example of how to use the Mima to guide the other guests. 

Chebeba suddenly cuts the silence in the steam room.

“Libidel wants you to carry the lantern,” she says to the other women. “Libidel and her Libidellas.”

“Sorry, I didn’t get it. What?” responds MR, suspiciously.

“Libidel and her Libidellas…” Chebeba repeats. “We’re going to canonize Mima.”

Still not quite believing what she is hearing, MR again questions what Chebeba has just said.

“We’re going to canonize Mima. We’ll form a choir at her grave.”

“Then what? You’ll sacrifice me for killing Mima?” retorts MR, not without reason in this changed society.

“Mima killed herself,” explains Chebeba. “She died of grief. You have to come with us.”

COMMENT: The Mimarobe has good reasons for such concerns, and not just because she had been arrested and incarcerated under false pretenses regarding the demise of Mima. In Martinson’s poem, some of the cults that evolved on the ship involved human sacrifice as part of their rites. We neither see nor even hear of such practices in the film version of the story, but it is hardly an impossible situation when considering the behavioral directions of this confined society.

We are taken to the Mima Hall: MR and Isagel are there with a group of women who are part of this Libidellas cult. MR is having green coloring put around her eyes in the form of an infinity symbol. Isagel has already been painted in a similar fashion. 

The Mimarobe openly giggles at this ritual, then looks around her old workplace. The ceiling, once vibrant with flowing colors from the Mima, is now charred and burned out from the AI’s self-destruction.

The leader Libidel, shrouded in a shimmering green robe, takes MR by the hand and leads her to one section of the ten women who have formed a line at one end of the room. Libidel then prays aloud to Mima at her “grave”.

The rest of the women, some of whom have red paint bordering their eyes, repeat this chant and then remove their shoes and clothing.

Naked, the cult members walk to the other end of the room. Isagel and MR follow suit after sharing a look at each other. They group picks up large rectangular mirrors from the floor and face their reflective sides at Libidel, who stands in the middle of the circle they form around her. Libidel, still dressed in her robe, lays on the floor in the center. The women hum in turn; Isagel tries not to laugh.

A group of men are led into the Mima Hall. They too are nude and have paint on certain parts of their bodies. Soon enough this “canonization” of the AI turns into a hedonistic orgy, a baser substitution for the personal pleasures they have lost with the absence of the Mima. 

MR quickly adapts to this situation and becomes intimate with two of the cult women. Isagel, still standing with her mirror, is hesitant to join in. Eventually, she capitulates with a younger man.

5:e året (Year 5) – Kalkylen (The Calculation)

We are back in MR and Isagel’s suite at some later date. Isagel is laying in their bed; she wears a white silk pajama top and is not moving, facing away from our perspective. MR emerges from their bathroom, wearing a bath robe. 

MR sits upon the end of the bed, looking at Isagel. MR playfully tickles Isagel’s facing side to get her attention. Still unmoving, Isagel only whispers something in return, which MR doesn’t quite catch.

“What did you say?” asks MR of her partner.

“There are no possibilities…” Isagel answers. “There are no possibilities here.”

Isagel turns towards MR, exposing her swollen pregnant belly, a result of “worshipping” the Mima with the Libidellas cult.

“I’ll give birth to a prisoner.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because it’s true,” Isagel replies. “I’ll deliver someone to eternal night.”

“It’s going to be fine,” returns MR, ever optimistic. “I promise, it’s going to be fine. You’ll feel better.”

MR lays her hands on Isagel’s bare stomach and kisses her smooth skin. Isagel closes up her top, pushing MR’s hands away.

MR goes over to one of the large circular windows in their room and pushes aside the long purple curtain covering it.

“Yes, I can,” answers MR. “I’m going to get rid of the darkness.”

MR removes her robe, revealing that she is wearing her work uniform underneath, and exits their suite. Isagel stares at and through the uncovered window, revealing the ever-present multitude of distant alien suns. Tears appear and run down the side of the pilot’s face.

CONTINUITY ERROR: I caught an error in continuity during this scene. It is quite minor in the scheme of things, but it is the first one I noticed in this film. When MR opens the long curtain to the window, she only pushes it just beyond the right-side curved window frame. When we see the view from Isagel’s perspective from their bed after MR leaves, the curtain is even further to the right than MR left it. In fact, it is far enough to be off screen, much further than MR had pushed it; and no, Isagel certainly did not get up and push the curtain more. 

A Substitute for the Substitute

The Mimarobe visits the Mima Hall again, alone this time. She walks over to a part of one wall that is charred black from floor to ceiling. Nearby lays a pile of discarded head pillows.

Into the open area of the damaged wall, MR shines a flashlight beam. The light lands upon a vertical cylindrical device with small clear tubes running through it. Debris dust swirls about, also illuminated by the light beam.

MR heads back to her old cabin, which The Astronomer still occupies. She enters and sees the older woman lying in her bed with her arms sticking over the side, apparently unconscious. MR pushes on The Astronomer to see if she will respond. The unkempt scientist awakens with a grunt and angrily pushes back at MR. Unsurprisingly, The Astronomer is quite intoxicated.

“What are you doing here?” The Astronomer demands to know of MR, who has run to the cabin’s bathroom sink to wash her hands after realizing her old roommate is in a less than hygienic state.  

“Why aren’t you with Isagel?” The Astronomer asks MR. She repeats this question even louder when it goes unanswered.

“She wants to be alone,” MR finally answers about her partner. “I’m sneaking into the reception.”

Without leaving her bed, The Astronomer uses a clear drinking glass to scoop up alcohol stored in a plastic lined waste basket next to her on the floor. The woman’s right shirt sleeve is soaked with the liquor from repeated visits to this basket.

“What reception?” The Astronomer asks as she consumes her drink.

“It’s called ‘Eternal Spring’,” MR replies as she searches for some of her old clothing still on the shelving. Only two of The Astronomers science texts are left now, visible among the piles of unfolded clothing.

“Want to come?” invites MR. 

“Eternal Spring,” repeats The Astronomer, thinking it over while fishing for a new drink. 

“What’s the point of it?” is both her question and her conclusion.

“I want to talk to the Captain,” MR responds as she measures a blouse against her torso. “I want to build a beam screen outside the windows. To escape the darkness.”

At first The Astronomer almost seems to be showing some interest in MR’s plan, but upon further reflection declares a different view.

“You want to build a substitute for Mima,” The Astronomer realizes. “A substitute for the substitute!” She begins to laugh drunkenly at the irony.

Without responding, MR simply takes her chosen outfit for the party and leaves the cabin.

The Eternal Spring party appears to be in one of the 21 restaurants that the Aniara welcoming video had once boasted about. Scattered groups of well-dressed people are there mingling and talking. Light, bland instrumental music plays in the background. Captain Chefone is seen talking to one woman before he excuses himself.

MR walks into the room, dressed for the event. She prepares herself before plunging into the party, putting a smile on her face.

The Mimarobe walks up to Chefone, who is now conversing with three different women.

“Excuse me,” says MR to Chefone. “Got a minute?”

Chefone seems a bit annoyed with MR’s sudden interruption, but he gives her his attention, nevertheless, facing MR at a small round table that was directly behind him.

“It’s about a beam screen,” MR explains. “I’d like to build one.”

“Instead of teaching?” Chefone inquires.

“Yes,” declares MR. “It would display images, like Mima. But outside the windows, so we’re shielded off from… space.”

“You don’t grasp how serious this is,” Chefone counters, clearly not happy with her new career plans.

“But I do!” MR begins to protest.

“We must think of future generations,” declares Chefone. “Make a home for them here.”

“Absolutely,” agrees MR.

“I guess you want that too?”

“Yes, and that’s why…” MR begins before Chefone cuts her off as she tries to explain her idea.

“Then nothing is more important than the work you do. The kids you teach, every little piece of sh*t… are our best and brightest. Understand?”

MR agrees with her Captain and tries to make him realize what she is trying to do for the whole ship, but Chefone shuts her down.

“You won’t be allowed to build your invention. Okay?”

MR obeys Chefone’s command, but the disappointment in her face is clear.

Welcome, Little Buddy!

We are deliberately jarred by the sudden image of Isagel screaming in pain, for she is giving birth in the bathtub of her shared quarters. MR is holding her left hand while kneeling at the outer edge of the tub. To her right is a male midwife, an older gray bearded man who is assisting in the birth of their child.

“I don’t want to!” Isagel screams repeatedly. MR tries to support Isagel by telling her she is doing great. 

“One more push, Isagel, and it’s over,” instructs the midwife. 

As the camera focuses on MR, we hear a splash of water and the Mimarobe’s face changes to wonder and joy at the sight of their newborn baby.

“Hello! Welcome, little buddy!” greets the midwife to the infant.

Isagel lifts the baby out of the bath water, who immediately begins shrieking. Isagel has a look of apprehension at what they have brought into existence, while MR radiates only happiness. Isagel kisses her baby’s small, curled fist, causing her first to smile and then cry tears of joy.

Sometime later, MR is trying to get the baby to sleep while Isagel looks on, smiling. MR asks her partner if she is done feeding the baby, which Isagel affirms. MR switches off a lamp next to their bed and tells the baby “Now, it’s night!” 

MR tries to help their baby along in his slumber by singing a lullaby to him.

“Two children play/ In a field of wheat/ Play with the thought/ That they might with their eyes/ Walk high atop the spikes/ Walking on water is hard…”

“Stop singing,” Isagel requests of MR. The song and the singing have disturbed the pilot.

MR pauses, but only for a moment before she continues her song. Isagel is clearly unhappy that MR has ignored her, but she says nothing further to MR.

“If you just let/ Your eyes wander round/ And allow you to turn/ Into a butterfly or a wind/ You’ll be able to go….”

Our view changes to an exterior scene of the Aniara on its relentless push through deep space. The vessel seems a bit dimmer than in past views, a reflection of its slow deterioration. Even the stars around the Aniara seem somehow less brilliant than in the past.

MR is teaching her students in a makeshift classroom, writing equations on a chalkboard. The technobabble is flowing freely.

“But then came Gopta through QWI,” explains MR. “Without this major discovery, we wouldn’t be where we are today.”

COMMENT: The word gopta comes from the ancient Sanskrit language and means “occult,” so take that as you will. This brief lesson is borrowed from Canto 62 of the Martinson poem, quoting MR:

“With this new age’s re-evaluations and new expansions of the tensor doctrine, the way was opened for the possibility of finding the proportioned symmetry which by the Gopta formula through qwi was simplified and proved the right approach for every longer run in heaven’s coach.”

We swiftly exchange the classroom for the Aniara’s big swimming pool, where we find Isagel with her baby. Isagel is not smiling. She wordlessly decides to put the infant underwater and hold him there. 

Thankfully, another officer just happens to appear on the opposite side of the pool and beckons the pilot over to him. Isagel quickly lifts the baby back up to the surface. The infant coughs a little, but otherwise he seems fine. Isagel cradles him against her chest.

We return to MR’s classroom, where the former Mimarobe is trying to explain an equation on the board to a student. The student expresses that he is not grasping the lesson, which makes MR audibly sigh in frustration. Just then, MR sees Chebeba through the classroom windows facing the hallway: The woman is walking towards MR, carrying her son.

Chebeba enters the classroom. Immediately MR stops teaching and runs over to the woman, demanding to know where Isagel is.

“She was called up to the bridge,” Chebeba answers.

“How come?”

“They’ve discovered a rescue ship,” Chebeba replies in a near whisper, but not quietly enough.

“We’re being rescued?” inquires an overhearing student out loud. The rest of the class looks intently at the two adults in the room.

A Clearly Deviating Spectral Signature

The scene changes to the exterior of the Aniara. This time we see something new to us: An elongated metal gray radio antenna consisting of two parallel vertical sections. Small white lights frame portions of its exterior. With a whirring mechanical sound (in space; yes I know), the antenna turns and aims itself at an object somewhere in the direction of the galactic center.

On a screen being monitored by The Astronomer on the ship’s bridge, a computer graphic consisting of a blue square and a small grid pinpoints a tiny body against the starry bulge it labels New Track ID#2410 and a short list of changing celestial coordinates below it.

Isagel is sitting just to the left of The Astronomer at the controls: The two are discussing the relevant data with Chefone, who is standing on the other side of the scientist. 

“Fourteen arcseconds,” reports The Astronomer. “It’s moving closer.”

“Seventy-six kps,” Isagel announces the mysterious object’s speed in kilometers per second. 

COMMENT: For those who want this factoid in miles per second, it is 47.2 mps. For those who want this velocity in miles per hour, it is 169,920 mph. As you may recall, the Aniara left Earth at an announced speed of 64 kps, or 39.7 mps, or almost 143,164 mph.

“How fast was Samara supposed to go?” asks Chefone, perhaps referring to a particular model of high-velocity space vessel or propulsion system. 

“Upwards of 73 kps,” answers Isagel.

COMMENT: In the poem, the Aniara uses “phototurb” fusion engines designed with “Gopta” physics for its propulsion.

MR walks onto the bridge and asks what is going on.

“I’ve discovered an anomaly,” replies The Astronomer. “Using one of the Stardeck telescopes. It displays a clearly deviating spectral signature.”

COMMENT: The Astronomer does not definitively indicate if she were deliberately searching for potential objects that could save the Aniara. Nevertheless, the fact that she was examining space shows that, despite her outward cynicism about life in general and their chances in particular, the scientist was inwardly hopeful for either a natural body or a vessel to change their fate. A touchingly human act. Or perhaps she was simply bored and decided to do something besides drink herself into a stupor for a change of pace.

If The Astronomer was searching the skies at the orders of Chefone, that she cooperated with the Captain shows still that the woman has not lost all hope.

“It’s not big enough to be a rescue ship,” explains Isagel. “It’s about 100 meters long, two meters wide. Linear.”

“Then it’s probably a high-speed probe,” guesses Chefone.

“Containing fuel?” inquires The Astronomer, hopefully. The rest of the crew look at her.

Chefone asks if this vessel is indeed big enough to carry nuclear fuel rods, which Isagel affirms. 

“Enough to turn the ship around?” Chefone asks further.

“Yes,” says Isagel with a smile.

“Yes!” shouts Chefone with joy, slamming his palm on the panel in front of him. He walks around and declares “Yes!” again.

MR is also overjoyed.

“That’s amazing!” she says, beaming. “How far off is it?”

“Fourteen months,” answers Isagel, still smiling.

Chefone chuckles and pats a male officer next to him. Even our cynical astronomer is smiling at this news and the hope it may bring.

BIG QUESTIONS: As the Aniara had shut off all communications with the rest of humanity during its initial three-week voyage to Mars (an action that does not make a lot of sense to me, even if there were some in-universe technical reasons for it, but that is what they did), how would any would-be rescuers know the crew had ejected the vessel’s nuclear fuel rods, or that they even had a collision with space debris to begin with? Did someone find the fuel rods drifting in interplanetary space? Was this due to the authorities sending out a search-and-rescue mission after the Aniara failed to arrive at the Red Planet as scheduled? The ship was thrown off course very early into their journey: Unless the presumed search team cast a very wide search net, how would the authorities even know where to aim a rescue probe, let alone what the Aniara might have needed to get back?

The animated Aniara logo dominates our screen and all the viewscreens on the ship, accompanied by what can now be labeled as Aniara’s corporate theme music. 

The image switches to a very confident Captain Chefone looking sharp in his dress uniform. He is playing a game of pool, or billiards. Chefone looks up at the camera aimed on him and stops what he is doing. We notice that his still full beard now has some gray in it.

“Dear passengers,” Chefone begins. “I’m happy to announce help is finally on the way. An emergency fuel probe is headed our way and will be here in about a year’s time. Then we can restart the engines and turn back home. Tonight, we have every reason to celebrate.”

Chefone makes his final speech points by aiming the business end of his pool cue, or stick, at the camera, then leans down over the table to sink a purple ball with it into a pocket across the table to complete his news.

COMMENT: Chefone sinks a pool ball with the black 8 ball rather than the cue ball, which is solid white in color and has no number painted on it. Normally, in a game of 8-ball, this is not a proper move, but as Chefone is only doing this to demonstrate his confidence to the rest of the ship and not playing an actual game of billiards with anyone, the only thing that matters is showing him sinking the ball. 

If one wanted to get philosophical, one could also claim that Chefone has been and is playing by his own rules regarding the entire ship and its compliment, with no one else about to even question, let along challenge, his authority – including what he declares the approaching object to be.

The broadcast camera zooms back out to show a smiling Chefone placing his hands on his hips. The unexpected sound of a small banging noise just out of sight below makes Chefone look to his right: The pool cue he leaned against the table has slid off on its own volition and hit the floor.

COMMENT: I wonder if the pool cue falling to the floor was cinematically deliberate or not? In either case, it is a brilliant, subtle moment as Chefone tries to maintain the appearance of control and this otherwise minor and wordless event betrays him, even if his truly captive audience is not initially aware of what has just occurred.

The scene changes to a group of passengers in a bar celebrating Chefone’s news. As videos of colorful and noisy fireworks explode across large screens in the background, people are drinking, dancing, and playing games. They are feeling happy and hopeful for the first time in years.