As is the way of things, the answer was much more complicated.
After much thought, research, sacrifice, and gobs of cash, it was determined that Homo sapiens could be kept viable for quite some time in suspended animation, as long as there was some sort of monitoring system around to keep vigilance and correct any errors that may occur, as well as make fine adjustments to the sustained controlled environment when necessary. However, although there was computer software sensitive enough to keep tabs on, record information, and suggest adjustments for optimal suspension conditions, it was also determined that no program existed--nor would exist for many years, considering the rate of advancement--that could accurately and consistently make the changes to preserve the lives of the humans that were in suspension. Experiments were undertaken, and although an automated guardian could keep up for quite some time, eventually many small mistakes added up to large, critical errors, and the caretaker's simulated wards' survival rate plummeted as the far side of the Bell curve was explored. Things would be best if the mechanized watchdog was able to work in tandem with another overseer.
After much pondering and even more tinkering, it seemed as though the only construction currently available to handle such a task over time was the human brain--but this was not a solution, but yet another complication, as the only way to keep a human alive to survive the transit was to have them in stasis. If they were in stasis, though, they could not make the minute adjustments. Problem.
Par for the course, something else cropped up, a potentially critical setback. Through more simulations the researchers found that prolonged stasis caused the human intellect to degrade, producing babbling imbeciles--at best--in as short as one year. Another problem.
In this instance, technology, human ingenuity, and a willingness to sacrifice unknowing and uninformed others for the greater good provided the solution. Several discoveries were combined to find the answer.
A breakthrough had been made some years earlier which allowed one's memories--and thus, the bulk of their personality--to be stored electronically, with the best storage device being an organic one, if possible. That is, one's intellect could be extracted and placed into another human for storage, and barriers could be placed in the receiver so that the original and the stored would never mingle. In fact, experiments confirmed that the storage space in a human brain was so large that up to 400 intellects could be extracted, condensed, and stored in one healthy adult with no ill effects on that person. As a point of fact, there was a great benefit, in that the storage person's own wits and wisdom increased exponentially as more psyches were added. Everything has its limits, though, and through more experimentation additional regulations were discovered. Although candidates were rigorously screened for superior health, it seemed that the higher the initial intelligence of a being, the more predisposed they were to insanity, paranoia, schizophrenia, et al. after augmentation with storage personas, traits which were categorically determined to be unwelcome traits in a spacefaring caretaker of other humans and a giant starship.
Therefore, the starting brain power of the storer could not be too high, for it would be added to and increased by predictable levels as storage personalities were added for the trip. According to the researchers the optimal IQ for a 'storage device' was to be no higher than 80, then, to end up at around 135, at a maximum, once all intellects were cached. It was decided, though, by individuals that would, of course, never be the proposed depot, that the body that housed the inferior intellect should never know that: A) They were merely a means to an end and that their upgraded intelligence was artificial and B) Once their job was over and the destination was reached they would be rendered back to their original brainpower and become one that must now be supervised, rather than the other way round. A provision was made that the erstwhile custodians would live out the rest of their lives in comfort, in whatever reasonable way seemed fitting to them.
So, this became the new standard in spacefaring. Large, sturdy colony ships were outfitted with whatever equipment was deemed necessary to settle a new world, and no more than 400 settlers were put on board and in stasis with their intellects drained and condensed for deposit in the steward that was to keep them in trust until arrival on their new home. This keeper, then, was made smarter by the addition of the new personalities--but didn't know that it had ever been any other way in their life, and some memory augmentation was often employed to ensure ignorance. During sleep periods the trustee was put in a modified stasis in order to draw out his life and make any needed bio-repairs to his aging carcass. He would age, but slowly, and in perfect health. During waking periods he would spend his time monitoring the sleepers and the ship, keeping everything in flawless function in conjunction with the programmed attendant. On arrival at the new world, he would benignly have his wards removed and go back to being an idiot. The program's designers thought it the perfect plan, given the current resources.
"Sir?"
Huffold looked up from his screen, noting the tech at his desk and waiting for the reason for his approach.
"Proceed."
"Sir, we've received a transmission from the Cornucopia."
"They've only been out for 4 months. Chances aren't worth mentioning that they would have found a suitable planet to colonize within the distance they've traveled. Is it an automated message or voluntary?" While speaking Huffold's hands were working, fingers darting over his interface and bringing up specifications on the colony ship and it's monitoring network to his readout screen.
"Human-generated, sir, and personal."
"All systems read normal on our readout, 397 bodies breathing in stoppage, functioning as expected and the ship shows no red lights. There's only one human awake on that boat that could've sent a missive, and they are not supposed to know how."
"Sir."
"Let it out, techie."
"Sir, we've received a message from the Cornucopia's Safe. She's become aware, and has some rather awkward questions."
continued...
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