by H. A. Swain
“What’s troubling you?” she says.
I know Castor’s right, I’m an excellent liar, but I’ve never been able to fool my mother, so instead of telling her the truth, I say, “It’s nothing for you to worry about. I can handle it.”
“I know you can handle it,” says Mom. “You’re capable of handling almost anything. Always could. Since you were tiny. But that doesn’t mean you have to do it alone.” She lays her hand on my knee. “Please tell me what’s going on.”
I take a deep breath and choose my words carefully. “Mundie called. Castor got caught stealing from the AlphaZonia CEO.”
Mom gasps and covers her mouth with her hand. “Is he okay?”
“For now,” I say. “He’s being held at the Pink Palace.”
“We have to go get him!” she says, but doesn’t move.
“It’s okay,” I assure her. “They offered me…” I hesitate. “A job. If I take it, they’ll release Castor.”
“Is it difficult or dangerous? This thing they’re asking you to do?”
Tears spring to my eyes. I’m glad it’s dark, so she can’t see me cry. “Yes,” I manage to croak out. “Both. And it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but I have no choice.”
“We always have choices.”
“Mom!” I cry. “If I don’t do it, they won’t let Castor go!”
“That may be the case. But remember what I’ve always taught you. Whatever they’re asking you to do, there’s more in it for them than there is for you. So be careful what you relinquish in exchange for your brother.”
“I know, but…” I swallow hard. “Mundie said—”
“Mundie, hmph!” says Mom, and crosses her arms tight. “I never did like that boy. Always following you and Castor around like a hungry dog, ready to bite you the minute you offered a hand. And now he works for D’Cart and has Castor in a corner? Doesn’t surprise me in the least. People in AlphaZonia don’t care about people like us.”
I sit back, waiting out my mother’s rant—the same one I’ve heard all my life, but now that I’ve lived in AlphaZonia, I actually understand what she means.
“The rich fear the poor, always have. Which is ridiculous, because the wealthy have done far more harm to us than we’ve ever done to them. False privilege!” she spits. “That’s what it is! They think because they have more possessions, they have more to lose. They used to build walls and gates to protect their kind, but then they saw an easier way to keep us out. Let the rich buy their way in to exclusive societies that we can’t touch. But they’re no more deserving than we are. Strip away all their stuff, take away the chips inside their brains, and what’s left? A human being! And every human deserves a decent life.”
She turns and looks me in the eye. “You and your brother included. Which is why I raised you here. Away from all that nonsense. But you went back.”
“Don’t,” I warn her. “You know this life wasn’t enough for Castor or me.”
“You’ll never be a Yoobie. Even if you work for that horrible woman RayNay DeShoppingCart and get a chip inside your head,” Mom says.
“I don’t want that,” I tell her. “But I have to make sure Castor is safe.”
“Of course you do, but you must be careful. The deal they’re offering will be lopsided.”
I draw in a sharp breath, because I know she’s right, but I don’t see a way around it.
“I should come with you,” Mom says.
“You don’t want to do that,” I say, and my mom looks away. “And that’s okay,” I assure her. “Honestly, Mom, the thought of you in your sand goggles and turban traipsing around the Pink Palace is almost funny.” I snort a strangled laugh.
“I can look different,” she says, slightly offended.
“But you’ll still be you. Which is perfect and wonderful, but this time I have to acquiesce to D’Cart’s demands, no matter how hard that is.”
She sighs. I see a trace of relief in her eyes that she doesn’t have to leave her oasis in the desert, but she grabs me by the shoulders and says, “You must be careful! Talitha, promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I always am,” I assure her. “Remember? I’m not the risk taker.”
“I want you to let me know as soon as everything is okay,” she says.
“How?” I almost laugh. “You won’t use a device.”
“Don’t you have something you could give me? A way to let me know?” She searches my face, and I see that she’s sincere.
“Will you answer if we call?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says. “I promise.”
I take the device from my head and hand it to her. “Keep this with you,” I say. “I’ll call you as soon as I know something.”
My mother and I walk arm in arm down the bluff. We stop by the outdoor bed where Uma has fallen asleep, beautifully bathed in the moonlight with Quasar tucked against her side.
“What about sweet Uma?” Mom whispers. “Will you take her with you?”
“Yes,” I say, and swallow down the nasty taste that’s crept up in my mouth. “I need her.”
“Yes,” says Mom. “You’ve found someone special.”
“No.” I feel a deep pit open in my chest as if my heart has imploded like a dying star. For a brief moment in the time line of my life, I thought I’d found someone who understood me in a way no one ever could, but now I know the truth.
I look at Mom and say, “She’s not the person I thought she was.”
TIME STAMP
MOON
DAY 2, MONTH OF SOL, MUSC YEAR 94
EARTH
JUNE 20, 2XXX
UMA JEMISON
CALLIOPE, EARTH
THE NEXT MORNING, Talitha walks from the house to the AutoPod and fills the hatch with a box of fruits and veggies from her mother’s greenhouse without a word to me.
“Good morning,” I chirp from the stack of tires where I sit with a mug of sweet mint tea. I’m dressed in a cute green shirt with a frog on the front and a pair of Talitha’s lightweight baggy pants. Quasar sleeps at my feet, his three good paws twitching as if running in his dreams. “Need any help?”
“Nope,” she says without eye contact, then passes back to the house again.
When she comes outside with another armload of stuff, I say, “Can I get you some breakfast?”
“Nope.” She dumps her knapsack, a jug of water, and a pile of clothes into the car.
“Not a morning person?” I joke, but it lands flat. She walks by again without a smile.
Her mother stands in the doorway, watching us as she sips her own steaming cup of tea. When Talitha is inside the house, Rhea comes to lean against the fan palm shading me. She’s in a silky kimono, with her long dark hair down around her shoulders. She looks both younger and older than she did last night.
“Did I do something wrong?” I squint up at her and ask.
“She’s fretting over her brother,” Rhea tells me.
I watch a lizard tiptoe across the rocks. Hummingbirds busy themselves among the red and orange trumpet vines climbing up the fence. I peer down on these minuscule life-forms as I once peered down at the Earth from MUSC, wondering what the humans below were thinking. Now I’m here and I still don’t know.
“I wish we could stay here longer,” I admit. “This has been such a nice respite from the rest of life.”
“You don’t have to leave,” says Rhea.
“That’s kind of you,” I tell her. “But I want to help Talitha.”
“She might not take your help. She won’t take mine.” Rhea’s quiet for a few moments, sipping at her tea, before she adds, “Castor and Talitha have always been incredibly close. They have a twin language they use to keep secrets from me.” She chuckles. “When they were little and it was just the three of us, I felt excluded sometimes, but in my heart I know they have a deep bond that is very special. They might squabble like two ravens, but nothing will ever come between them.”
“I’ve never had a connection like that with a
nyone,” I admit.
“I did once,” says Rhea.
“Your husband?”
She nods as the lines on her face settle into well-worn paths of pain.
Last night, lying under the stars with Talitha, I thought maybe I might have found that kind of bond, but this morning, I’m not so sure.
“I wish I knew what they were up to,” Rhea says, mostly to herself. She drains her tea and pushes off the fan palm to pace over the rocks in her bare feet. “But I suppose this is another instance when I have to let them work things out for themselves.”
“You understand them so well. And you’re so accepting,” I say.
That cracks Rhea up. “I’m not sure they think that, but it’s nice of you to say.” She comes to sit beside me on the tire stack. “What about your mom? Does she understand and accept you?”
“Well … that’s a tricky question. I know she loves me very much and wants what’s best for me, but…”
“It’s hard to be a parent.” Rhea stares into her empty mug. “Especially when you can’t give your children the life that they deserve.”
“I miss my mother. That much is certain.”
Rhea puts an arm around me and says, “I’m sure she feels the same.”
“I think she’s mad at me.” I scan the sky for a faint morning trace of the nearly full moon, but it’s tucked away for twelve hours in the never-ending do-si-do with the Earth.
“That will pass,” says Rhea. “It always does. But find a way to let her know you’re okay.” She squeezes me gently. “Will you?”
“I’ll try,” I say.
Talitha comes outside again, this time with a brown canvas hat pulled low on her head so I can barely see her eyes. “Ready?” she asks as she marches past.
I hop up from the tires, which wakes Quasar. He stretches with a tiny yowl of pain.
“Poor pup!” I drop to my knees beside him. “I hate to say good-bye to you.” I lean down so I can kiss the white star between his soulful brown eyes.
I know it’s much worse for Talitha. She hugs him tight. He licks away the tears on her cheeks. “Take good care of him until I get back,” she tells her mother.
“He’ll be fine,” says Rhea. “And I can send you updates on that thingamabob communicator you gave me last night.”
Talitha rolls her eyes but then stops herself and pulls her mother into a long, fierce hug. “I love you, Mom,” she says.
“I love you, too,” says Rhea.
I feel a deep, dull ache inside of me as I watch Talitha with her mother. Rhea’s right. I need to at least let my mom know that I’m okay. I resolve right then that when I get back to AlphaZonia, I’ll find a way to contact her, even if only for a few moments.
I take one last look around. “You have something very special here. I’m going to miss it.”
“You’re welcome back anytime,” Rhea tells me. She opens her arms, and I gladly accept a strong hug from her. Before she lets me go, she whispers, “And get in touch with your mom, okay?”
“I will,” I say. “I promise.”
When I let go, I see Talitha eyeing us, her stare as stony and cold as a Moon outcropping, and I wonder what happened to the wonderful, warm girl I met yesterday.
* * *
The ride out of Calliope is somber.
“Are you sad to leave?” I ask Talitha as the AutoPod speeds across the barren landscape of the desert. The early morning sun washes out the surroundings to a hazy yellow.
“Not really,” she says while keeping her gaze trained out the window. Then, silence again.
This goes on. Me asking a stupid question, her barely answering, until we enter the San Gabriel tube. I’m sick of the awkwardness between us, and the darkness of the tunnel emboldens me, so I turn to her and say, “Is everything okay?”
Talitha sits back and pulls her hat down lower on her head, covering up her eyes and refuses to answer.
“Please tell me what’s wrong. Did I do something to upset you?” I reach out to touch her arm.
She moves away so her back is against the door, and she looks at me intensely from under the brim of her hat. “Tell me more about you. What was your childhood like? Where’d your family go when you moved?”
The questions sound more like demands. The whole situation feels odd, especially after how cold she’s been all morning, but I try my best to answer, thinking it may appease her.
“My parents are kind of like your mom,” I tell her. “They thought changing where we lived would solve all of our problems, but there were new problems where we ended up. At first it was okay because at least we were together.”
I stop and take a breath, debating how much I should say. Last night I was ready to tell her everything, but now I’m not so sure. The way she’s looking at me has me spooked—as if our connection fizzled once the sun came up.
“We have one thing in common, you and I,” I venture. My heart speeds up, and my palms get sweaty.
“Oh?” she says as if she doesn’t believe me. “What’s that?”
“My dad also died when I was little.”
Talitha’s eyes widen, and her jaw goes slack. She pushes the hat back on her head, so I can see her face clearly.
“I didn’t tell you before because … I don’t know. I don’t like to talk about it.”
She continues blinking at me as if she can’t find any words.
“It happened when I was ten,” I say. “And, you know, after that, everything changed.”
“Oh, Uma,” says Talitha. She rubs her hands across her tired face. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Of course you didn’t.” I try to smile, but I can’t. “I didn’t talk about it.”
Talitha stares into the darkness outside the window. “I don’t like to talk about my father either. When people find out, they don’t know what to say.”
“Or they say something stupid, like ‘Do you miss him?’”
Talitha gives me a sad laugh of recognition.
“What kind of question is that?” I ask. “You sound like a monster if you say no, but saying yes isn’t exactly true.”
“I know what you mean,” she says, finally looking at me how she used to.
The Pod exits the tunnel, and we’re back inside the boundaries of AlphaZonia, which is a lush paradise compared to the stark beauty of the desert.
“For me,” she says. “It’s more like I miss the idea of him, because the truth is—and this part sucks—I don’t remember him all that well. I was only five when he died.”
“Even though I was ten, the stuff I hang on to is small,” I admit. “Like, how he’d scoop me up and I’d curl on his lap while he read to me. I never felt safer than that.”
“I liked to rub my dad’s cheeks,” Talitha says dreamily. “They were rough with beard scruff when I kissed his face. It hurt, but it was also comforting in a way because it meant that he was there with me.”
“My dad smelled like a certain kind of soap, and even now when I get a whiff of it, sadness wraps around me like a big heavy coat.”
“Missing someone is a strange sensation,” says Talitha. “Like a limb is gone, but you’ve learned to live without it.”
I think of Talitha’s father then—an ExploroBot encased in a silver suit. I wonder which people from which cohort on MUSC controlled his reconstructed body with their minds. The whole thing makes me dizzy with nausea.
“How’d your mom take it when he died?” Talitha asks me quietly.
“I think it was harder on her than on me,” I admit. “She’s really isolated where we live. She works a lot, so I don’t see her much, and she doesn’t have many friends. At least I had Kepler. He’s my only true friend.”
“The only one?” she asks.
“Yeah, pathetic, I know, but the thing is, I don’t really fit in with the other people there. Most of them look down on me and my mom because we came from here. Kepler’s the exception. He likes me for who I am. He’s a good guy. You’d like him.”
Talitha inches closer. Her hand lies next to my leg on the seat. I want to grab it. Feel her warm fingers in mine again, but I don’t. Not yet.
“Is that why you ran away?” she asks.
I sit, dumbfounded as we stare at one another. “How did you know I ran away?”
“I know where you’re from,” she says, her voice hushed and angry. Her chest heaves as if she’s squishing down the urge to scream. “You should have told me.”
“I wanted to tell you but…” I hang my head, unable to look her in the eye just then. “I was afraid you would hate me if you knew.”
Talitha says nothing.
“I didn’t mean to run away,” I tell her honestly. “I just wanted a break. I’ve spent my whole life being watched and judged. Compared to people I’m nothing like. I’ve been promised a trip here since I was little, and then it was taken away from me for no good reason.
“My mother says life is a series of trade-offs and I should be grateful for what I have, but I’m tired of being the one who’s always giving something up. My family had to work for everything we have. When I look at the people around me at MUSC who have more than I have, I wonder, what did they do to deserve it? Why don’t I deserve the same? And why could something I wanted, and worked so hard to get, be taken from me so easily? I couldn’t accept it. When the chance to leave came, I took it.”
“Oh, Uma,” Talitha says. “I wish I’d known…”
I shrug and laugh half-heartedly. “The funny thing is, I’d barely ever broken a rule before that. I planned to be here for a few weeks, then go back and face the consequences of leaving. I figured it would be easy. But … I didn’t know I would meet you.”
Talitha pulls away. “What do I have to do with it?”
“You changed everything,” I tell her. The pitch of my voice is too high and too desperate, but I can’t stop the words from spilling out of me anymore. “I’ve never felt this way before. About anyone. I told Dr. Fornax that I felt drawn to Earth, and now I know why. There is a pull between us. Like the Earth and Moon. I know you feel it, too. I want to be close to you and look at you and ask you questions and listen to your voice and take in everything you say. You make me curious about the world. You make me want to experience everything!”