Launch Pad

by Shelly Bryant

  “Then I guess it could be done,” she said. Then, frowning, she added, “Theoretically.”

  “Would you like to try?” he asked.

  “I would,” she said, surprising herself with her own easy frankness. “But I don’t know how it could be done.”

  “Cryogenics.”

  “But…cryogenics aren’t advanced enough to preserve a whole human body yet. Like it or not, we aren’t going to meet in the flesh. Not ever.”

  “No, but the technology is sufficient to preserve our DNA. We could both freeze our respective reproductive materials and send it to a midpoint between Terminus and here. Someplace in the HoloNet. They are setting up space stations all the time, to facilitate trade, and those stations will all have medical facilities on them. When the space station we choose receives the DNA, they could bring our offspring to life. You and me—our children.”

  “But…we could never see them.”

  “I know,” he said, “but they would exist. Our commitment to one another would be given a new life in real, tangible form. And they could either live on the space station or strike out on their own, once they came of age.”

  “But who will raise the child? The people who would have responsibility haven’t even been born yet!”

  “Yes, we would have to think through all of that and make arrangements. I have financial resources, and no family obligations. No one to leave it to.”

  “Me too,” she said.

  “It’s probably true of most people who agree to leave home and live in the IHN Zone. We wouldn’t go if we had other ties that prevented our leaving.”

  “True. But…”

  “Yes?”

  “What if you have a family later?”

  “I won’t. Taria, my emotional attachment has been forged. If I don’t have offspring with you, I won’t have any at all. On my planet, if we don’t have an emotional attachment, we do not couple. And my tie to you is so strong that I don’t believe I can form another attachment with anyone else in the future. You are my future.”

  For the first time, she realised that she felt the same way about him.

  She entered the HoloBooth, humming an old jazz tune. When Ragomonak appeared, he said, “You look happy today. What’s that song you’re singing?”

  “It’s called ‘When I Fall in Love’,” she said. “It says, ‘When I fall in love, it will be forever, or I’ll never fall in love.’ I was thinking of it, and thought it apt, considering our last conversation.”

  Ragomonak tilted his head to the right.

  “You don’t like it?” she asked.

  “I suppose I don’t understand it,” he replied.

  “I’m saying the same thing you said before. Ragomonak, I don’t think I can form an emotional attachment with anyone else, either. Not now or in the future—because of how I feel about you.”

  He exhaled deeply. “That makes me very happy.”

  “Good,” she said, smiling.

  “But,” he said, “why do you say ‘fall in love’? Isn’t falling a negative connotation?”

  She thought for a second, then said, “It usually is, but in this context it’s talking about the suddenness of it— how it can hit you from nowhere, surprise you.”

  He tilted his head to the right again. “Hm.”

  “What?”

  “I guess it’s just that Earthling idealism again,” he said.

  “You don’t see it that way?” she asked.

  “No. My experience of loving you is quite different from ‘falling’. I don’t think I could ever buy into the notion of ‘falling in love’. I tend to believe love, if it is a place, isn’t one you can fall into. You have to grow into it, or you will never get there at all. It is a place I can inhabit, but not as I exist before knowing and learning to love a specific person. I have to grow into that space, because it is so big, and it has so many twists and turns. I am not big enough, nor flexible enough, to fill it on my own. I have to reshape myself, and to expand. And I need another to compel me, to make me want to learn and grow into that space, or it will never happen.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. Then after a moment’s thought she added, “But what about at its beginnings? When it first starts?”

  “In the early stage, I might have stumbled across the entrance to love, but I could never have ‘fallen’ into it. To be in love, I had to enter it wilfully, and then learn to dwell in it completely.”

  “Ragomonak, it’s no wonder I want to create another life with you. That is such a perfect way of seeing love.”

  “I want to create a life with you too, Taria. A life that is half you, half me.”

  “How about one that is all you and all me?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I’m not planning to give just half my DNA, are you?”

  “The child will only use half.”

  “But I will give all.”

  He laughed. “You’re right. We’ll each give all we have to offer, and then let our offspring choose which parts to use and which not.”

  “I want to do this,” she said.

  “So do I.”

  One night several months later, she entered the HoloBooth to find that the lights were low and “When I Fall in Love” was playing. The hologram of Ragomonak stood next to her sofa, glimmering.

  “I thought you didn’t like this song,” she said, laughing.

  “I like the tune, just not the term ‘fall in love’. That’s why I requested the instrumental version.”

  “Happy anniversary,” she said, opening the bottle of wine she had brought with her and pouring a glass.

  “Happy anniversary,” he replied, raising his own glass and taking a sip. “Do you have good news for me?”

  “Very good news,” she said. “I’m transmitting the materials to you now. Dr Trajan has been closely involved with the work the cryo-techs have done, and will be available to your medical staff if there are any questions. We’ve confirmed that we can have my reproductive materials and yours frozen cryogenically in the way laid out in the information I just transmitted. They can be sent to Midway Space Station. It will be complete before the cryos arrive. How about you? Did you find out anything concerning the legalities? How can we select and appoint a legal guardian to raise our children?”

  “Yes, I’ve got that all here,” he said, “ready to transmit to you. They have agreed to grant the guardian droids legal status equivalent to that of organic life. Do you have an IHN-approved lawyer who can help you look at the paperwork?”

  “Yes,” she said. “She was the first Earthling to pass the exam. We’ve got an appointment first thing in the morning.”

  “Good,” he said, moving closer. “Taria, I think this is really going to work.”

  She moved to the hologram. “I’m so glad,” she said, stepping into the light of his projected image.

  After weeks of discussions with Dr Trajan, the Terminus medical staff and her lawyer, Taria Soh was set to become the first Earthling to mate with an alien. The procedures that she would undergo today would culminate in offspring born centuries after she and her mate were dead.

  Dr Trajan was waiting for her at the entrance to the clinic. He put an arm around her shoulder as soon as she walked in.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  “I am,” she said, only a slight quiver in her voice.

  “Are you sure about this, Taria?”

  “Yes, Dr Trajan. Very sure.”

  “Good, then. The medical staff is ready. I have to say, this is the strangest consummation of a relationship I’ve ever heard of.”

  “Consummation—it really is that, isn’t it?”

  He looked at her quizzically. “Yes, I suppose it is.” He kissed the top of her head. “Good luck, Taria.”

  “Thank you. You’ve really been a good friend through this.” She squeezed his hand one last time, then walked into the operating theatre.

  The medical staff, made up of a young woman and two droid
s, was waiting for her.

  “Good morning, Taria,” the doctor said.

  “Good morning, doctor, X14 and X15,” she said, nodding to the woman and each of the droids. The droids waved in reply.

  “As we’ve discussed, we can harvest half of your eggs and freeze them on the spot—”

  “No,” Taria said firmly, “take them all.”

  The doctor wrinkled her eyebrows. “You haven’t changed your mind? I’m very sure half will be more than sufficient, and that will leave you options for…any future developments. You’re still young. You never know what the future might hold for you.”

  “Thank you, doctor. But really, I haven’t changed my mind. I want you to take them all.”

  The young woman looked over her surgical mask, searching Taria’s eyes. “Okay, we’ll do it, if you’re sure.”

  “Yes, I’m sure,” she said, then lay on the bed and closed her eyes.

  I would like to thank the people who have helped shape these works. Grace Chia (editor of Junoesq), Yeow Kai Chai (fiction editor of QLRS), and Jason Erik Lundberg (editor of Fish Eats Lion) have each played a part in shaping the pieces that first appeared in their respective publications, and I am indebted to them for the help they offered that has made these pieces stronger.

  I am likewise indebted to my friends who have read these stories and/or the collection in draft form. Susie Gordon, Miho Kinnas, Lily Sun, Tan Sok Peng, Linda Johnson and Tina Kanagaratnam have all been early readers of the works presented here, and have offered valuable feedback that helped make the work stronger.

  Most importantly, I want to thank Jason Erik Lundberg for his tireless editorial work, and JY Yang for helping pull the collection together in its final form. Their approach has been both friendly and professional, and I feel nothing but the deepest gratitude for their efforts and insights. I am greatly honoured to work with such capable, dedicated editors. I am grateful to Edmund Wee for creating the environment and opportunity for this collaboration to happen. He has built something special at Epigram Books, and I am grateful to Edmund and his team for allowing me to be a part of it.

  Shelly Bryant divides her time between Shanghai and Singapore, working as a poet, writer and translator. She is the author of seven volumes of poetry, a pair of travel guides for the cities of Suzhou and Shanghai, and a book on classical Chinese gardens. Shelly’s poetry has appeared in journals, magazines and websites around the world, as well as in several art exhibitions. Her translation of Sheng Keyi’s Northern Girls was longlisted for the Man Asian Literary Prize in 2012. Launch Pad is her first fiction collection.