First to Dance

by Sonya Writes

  The calendar. There was so much disagreement about how to set the calendar. They knew that the year was approximately 325 days long, but they weren’t completely sure yet and hadn’t made any official decisions on how to keep track of it. Some people wanted to use the 7 day week that they had on Earth, but others were opposed to the idea, and even if they could agree on how to set the week, they still had to choose a time for the new year to officially start. When this idea came up of tracking the years by naming of babies, more than half of the people were in agreement. Aaron was born around the time of the autumn equinox, so that was chosen as the start of the year. It wasn’t a full calendar yet, but it was a start.

  The others, though, did not agree with this idea. Several of the women, particularly, already had lists of baby names they loved, and they didn’t want to wait 10 or 15 years before they could use their favorite names for a child. Etana was in the camp of disagreement, but Matthew agreed with the notion.

  In the end, once again, the majority ruled. There was no threat of taking away children or locking up parents for non-compliance, simply the decision that if any parent didn’t follow the guideline, then the other adults would get together to choose a name for the child and call the child by that name instead of the one his or her parents had chosen. This would be particularly easy to implement. Most of the couples were in disagreement on the issue, so for the most part there would already be one parent in each home who followed the new rule. When no one was looking, Etana wept over the matter. She was the first and only woman on the planet to have total freedom in naming her baby, and because of the name she chose, she’d inadvertently taken that freedom away from all the other parents.

  Caring for a child on Zozeis seemed a lot more difficult than it should have been. Etana realized a few months prior to Aaron’s arrival that there would be no access to disposable diapers, formula, or even a crib. Matthew was adamantly against having Aaron sleep in their bed with them, which upset Etana because she wanted to keep him close, but she chose not to argue. They certainly couldn’t let him sleep on the twin bed in the other bedroom, lest he fall off, so instead they decided to lay blankets on the floor as a bed for him. Etana folded washcloths over hand-towels and tied the towels over his bottom to resemble a sort of diaper. It took a lot of trial and error, but she finally figured out how much cloth needed to be there to prevent a major leak, while not having so much there that the diaper was uncomfortable for Aaron. She was thankful for running water and a washing machine, but it was still a lot more work to keep up with than she’d anticipated. Being the first mother on this planet, it was her job to figure out what worked and what didn’t, and she had no one to go to for advice.

  When he was a few weeks old, Aaron started to stay awake for most of the night and sleep during the day. Since she had to nurse him and change the diapers, Etana stayed up with him each night and slept when he did. Matthew kept his regular schedule and helped the other men with their duties around the town. They had planted fields with cotton, grain, fruits and vegetables, and they frequently worked to clear out the school building and make decisions about how to use the construction materials it contained. It was suggested that they take all the windows out of the buildings, one by one, and board up the holes. They could get more wood from the forest, they reasoned, but they didn’t have a way yet of obtaining or producing glass, and the glass might be needed one day. The decision wasn’t made yet, but it was one they discussed regularly.

  The women spent their days working with cotton and studying the books that showed them how to turn it into cloth. Etana wasn’t part of any of this now because she was nearly always asleep during the day. One night, Etana took Aaron outside to nurse him on the porch and star-gaze, when she saw something strange in the sky. It looked like a blue ball of light coming down from the sky, and it landed somewhere beyond the trees. Etana made a mental note of the direction in which it landed. She sat and stared in that direction for a long time, wondering about it. Then, the next night, after Matthew had gone to sleep and the whole town was silent, she went for a walk through the woods with Aaron happily cradled in her arms.

  The moon was full and provided adequate light, but the trees overhead blocked much of it out. As the wind blew through the leaves, Etana was reminded that though they hadn’t yet seen any animals here, it didn’t mean that they didn’t exist. The last thing she wanted was to run into some sort of alien bear while walking alone through the forest.

  But she didn’t run into any bears or anything else. She trekked through the trees in as straight a path as she could, toward the place where she was sure she’d seen that strange ball of light land. It was a long walk, about five miles, but it seemed even longer because of the darkness and the baby in her arms.

  When Etana came out on the other side of the trees, she was on the side of a hill, and as she came around to the front of the hill she saw a very large building down at the bottom of it.

  Etana stopped in her tracks when suddenly the roof of the building came open, and out emerged the blue ball of light; only, it wasn’t a ball of light: it was a spaceship, orb-shaped and quite small compared to others she’d seen.

  When the spaceship was gone, the roof of the building closed back up and all the lights went out, but of course this didn’t stop Etana from moving forward and going in.

  She was quite surprised when the door opened automatically, and even more surprised when she saw that there were two more spaceships and no one else in the building. She’d half-expected to be caught trespassing here, though she’d disallowed herself from pondering the possible consequences of such happening. She knew that thinking too much of consequences would’ve held her back from exploration.

  When she saw that she was alone, she felt quite free to do whatever she wished, which was primarily to study the spaceships and the computer system. As she looked them over, she realized that if anyone else here found out about this place they would destroy it as a way of putting Earth behind them. None of them seemed to have any interest in going back, though she occasionally wondered how many of them were simply keeping their mouths shut the way she was. Still, even if others were interested, once they were in their mob mentality they would destroy this place and go on as if Earth had never existed. She couldn’t tell anyone about this.

  It didn’t take long for her to find the history log in the computer system and discover that her every move had been tracked since a few days before she left Earth. She quickly scrolled through the list of names and saw that everyone was in here. It would be useful to know who my enemies are, she thought, and so she quickly read through several people’s interactions over the last few weeks. For the most part it didn’t seem that anyone was talking about her specifically behind her back, but there were two conversations that alarmed her.

  Several people got together to discuss her pregnancy. They knew she wanted to keep Earth’s memory alive and were already preparing to take the child away if she showed any sign at all of not following their rule.

  The second conversation, which alarmed her even more, was one in which Matthew told the others that he agreed now with putting Earth behind them. He agreed to keep an eye on Etana and tell them if she started speaking about Earth to their child. He loved Etana, he said, but he didn’t want their child to lose both parents if she refused to follow the rules, and he was willing to turn her in if he had to so that he could keep Aaron. Matthew agreed to watch her carefully and tell them if he saw any sign of noncompliance.

  Etana wondered now why he never told her that he agreed with them. She gave Aaron a gentle hug and kissed him on the cheek. If your father really loved me, she thought, he’d warn me so I wouldn’t lose you.

  The computers had no information on who arrived and left, only on where they came from and where they were going. Most of the planet names meant nothing to her. The only one she cared about was Earth. She wanted to go back and find help, somehow—bring other people here who would step in and take charge in
a positive way. They needed other personality types to be here to balance them out, or things would only get worse. Maybe she could bring enough reinforcement that everyone Dr. Azias had scattered could be brought together on one planet as they’d originally been promised.

  Then she had another thought: if she planned to leave, how could she take Aaron with her? There was a bathroom on the spaceship, but nowhere to wash clothes and nowhere to put trash except for the compartment that accepted the empty food packaging. There would be no way to keep up with a baby’s diaper needs on that spaceship. The only possible way would be for them to endure the filth for the journey, but three months was a long time, and they could easily get sick being surrounded by that kind of bacteria all day. What if he fell ill and died halfway there and she had to spend the rest of the flight with her dead child only a few feet away? She couldn’t bear the thought.

  So she could wait until he was potty trained, then, only by that time he would be moving around enough that he could quickly cause trouble on the spaceship by pressing buttons or touching the computer interface. He would want to play and there would be nothing to play with. And, what if by then he’d already been taken from her? How would she get him back to bring him with her to Earth?

  She could wait until he was school-age: old enough to know not to touch certain things and to follow her instructions, but again, by then he might no longer be in her custody, and even if he was, he might not want to go with her. He might fight it. He’d have friends by then, and Zozeis would be all he’d known. If he fought it, the others would surely find out and this place would definitely be destroyed. Or they might find it on their own before then and destroy it before she had a chance to leave.

  So she decided that she would have to go alone, but she wasn’t going to give up all hope on her son. When Matthew wasn’t home, Etana would write letters to Aaron and hide them in the basement. If it was meant to be, she knew he would find them. The secret library would be the inheritance she left for him. It was the best thing she had to give.

  Aaron started to fuss and she knew he would need his diaper changed soon. It was time to go home. Etana let him nurse while she carried him. As she started walking, she wondered where she would come out of the forest if she went straight up the hill instead of back the way she came around the side. She tried walking this way instead and eventually emerged into the park. Thankfully, no one was there to see where she’d been. Aaron was sleeping in her arms now despite his wet diaper, and she took him home to change him. Matthew was not home when she arrived, so she took Aaron up into the bedroom and fell asleep with him beside her.

  Matthew startled her with yelling when he returned home and found her. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick about you and Aaron!”

  Aaron woke up too and started crying. Etana tried to comfort him before she responded to Matthew.

  “I’ve been looking all over for you. We’ve had everyone looking for you! How dare you scare us all like that! I thought you’d run off with our son!” As soon as he said that last part he realized he shouldn’t have.

  “Why would you think that?” Etana asked him. She knew why. She knew what he’d said to the others, plotting ways to keep their baby if she had to be separated from him. He’ll be planning on that even more now, she thought. He’s suspicious of me. He doesn’t trust me, and I don’t trust him.

  Matthew calmed himself down and sat beside her on the bed. “I was just worried,” he said. “I didn’t know what happened. Where were you?”

  “Aaron wouldn’t sleep. I went for a walk. I was out longer than I planned to be, but we’re okay.”

  “But where did you go? We looked everywhere.”

  “I was in the park,” she said.

  “I looked there, Etana. Don’t lie to me.”

  “I’m not lying. I walked around other places, went to the park, and then I came home.”

  “You didn’t hear us yelling your name? Calling for you?”

  “No,” she said. “How long have you been searching?”

  “At least a couple of hours.”

  Etana yawned and looked out the window. “I must have gotten home shortly after you went looking for me. I’ve been here napping for at least that long.”

  “You really scared me, Etana. We searched all the houses. We searched everywhere. Everyone was looking for you. If I hadn’t found you just now, we’d probably be heading out through the forest in every direction to find you.”

  Etana shuddered at that last thought. She didn’t want them to find the space center. Thankfully, none of the people here seemed to be the outdoors type, so they probably wouldn’t walk five miles through trees unless they had to.

  “I better go tell everyone I found you,” he said. “Then I’m coming back, and we need to talk.”

  Etana planned to stay awake, but she was so tired from her long night that she quickly fell back asleep. When she woke up it was dark, and Aaron was no longer beside her.

  Etana started to panic looking for him, but a hand reached out and held hers.

  “He’s fine,” Matthew said.

  “Where…”

  “In his bedroom, sleeping.”

  She calmed her breathing and tried to relax. Aaron wasn’t taken from her, yet. Matthew lay beside her and put his arm around her waist. He let out a heavy sigh, and then he told her what she already knew.

  “Etana, love, everyone is suspicious of you. They remember that you were one of the few people who adamantly wanted to teach your children about our past, about Earth.”

  “And you were one of the few who agreed with me. It was part of why I agreed to marry you.”

  “What I think is neither here nor there. The point I’m getting to is that if you give them a reason not to trust you, such as disappearing at odd hours, they will follow through on their threats.”

  “I didn’t disappear,” she said. “I went for a walk. And from what you said earlier, it sounds like I probably came home and went to sleep right about the time that you left looking for me.”

  “That was a long walk,” he said. “I was awake when you left. I thought you were just going out to sit on the porch like you’ve done before, but when I woke up and it was morning, I have to say I was quite surprised you weren’t back yet.”

  Etana counted her breaths as the time passed. How could she explain being gone for almost six hours?

  “I know where you were, Etana.”

  Her heart started racing.

  “You were meeting with the others—I know you were. They weren’t home when I knocked on their doors to ask if they’d seen you. I know you were with them somewhere, and whatever they’re planning, please don’t involve yourself. Stay out of it. For the sake of our family, stay out of it.”

  Etana wondered what she should say, whether or not she should deny this false accusation. If she did deny it, how would she explain her long absence? Then she wondered if she should get together with the others who wanted to preserve Earth’s memory and tell them about the space center.

  “Don’t try to teach Aaron about Earth, Etana. I forbid it.”

  “I didn’t know that I married a dictator.”

  “If you teach him about Earth, you’ll lose him, not because I’m a dictator but because that is what the people have decided.”

  I will only lose him because you’ll tell on me, she thought. We could teach him about Earth together. We could have children and grandchildren and teach all of them, and one day there would be enough of us to turn this around. All we have to do is teach them to keep it a family secret until the time is right.

  “And you won’t only lose him; you’ll lose me as well.”

  Etana wondered if that would really be a bad thing. She didn’t have room in her life for someone she couldn’t trust.

  “You’ll be alone, Etana. Life already feels lonely enough on this planet, but it will be worse if our family is torn apart. I’ll miss you, Aaron will miss you, and I know you’ll miss Aaron. I’d
like to think you’ll miss me too.”

  Etana closed her eyes and wished Aaron would wake up. She could go tend to her son instead of have this conversation with his father.

  “Please talk to me, Etana. Tell me what you’re thinking.” He lightly touched her cheek with his fingers the way he often did when he wanted to kiss her.

  “I won’t talk to him about Earth,” she said. I will write him. I will write dozens of letters to him, and one day, when he’s older and has played at all his friend’s houses, he’ll realize that our basement is smaller and he’ll wonder why. He’ll find my room and my letters to him and he’ll know that I didn’t want to abandon him but that I left because I loved him enough to fight for his children’s future.

  Matthew squeezed her hand. “Thank you,” he said. “Aaron thanks you, too.”

  Ten months passed, and though Etana frequently went outside to look at the stars, she didn’t see any spaceships coming or going again. Aaron was old enough now that he could survive without nursing, and she had slowly worked on weaning him. She’d also frequently taken him to other women to hold him and play with him. She hoped that if he developed strong relationships with other people, perhaps it wouldn’t be as harsh of a sting when she was gone. Two other babies had been born since he was, and there were three women pregnant. He would grow up with friends to surround himself with. This was a small community and because of that they were forced to be close and work together. I’ll miss you, she thought, but hopefully for your sake, you won’t have to miss me.

  Etana went back and forth between trying to wean herself from her own son and wanting to spend every second with him so she would have memories to cherish when he was no longer in her life. It was on days like these that she started doubting her plans to leave. She often fantasized about staying, but that would mean never telling her son about Earth. She could never tell him about her parents and how they moved from Paris to America just a few months before she was born. She couldn’t tell him stories about her college days or the time she traveled to Macchu Pichu. She couldn’t tell him about the Egyptian pyramids, or that on Earth the years are longer. She couldn’t tell him about anything they had on Earth that they didn’t have here—movies or waterslides or elephants.