Of a Note in a Cosmic Song; Part One

by Nōnen Títi

  She knew she would have to talk to the girls again. Every day she intended to sit them down after meals, but every night she let them go to sleep without mentioning it. As long as she didn’t talk there was still hope. As long as the final ‘no’ wasn’t spoken, she could still dream.

  As long as the kabin had not left orbit yet…

  Geveler City

  5/4/4/6184

  The tiny kabin was just ahead on the beach. He could hide in there. He could see the door; had to get to the door. Aryan sprinted as fast as his short legs could go but the voice behind him was closing in. “You’ll never get on that kabin!” It was the voice of a suit.

  “I will!” Faster he raced, cutting his feet on the sharp rocks. He reached for the door, for the woman who could help him, but she stepped out of the way. The door moved with the whoosh of the belt. He fell down when it hit him. The soil he landed in was slimy. “Cowards deserve to be beaten,” the suit said.

  Aryan tried to crawl away but was stopped by the buckle hitting the side of his chest. He howled. The large hand yanked at his hair. He saw the suit pants first, then the jacket. It was fake. He wasn’t strong enough to stop the man from dragging him over the rocks, away from the kabin, toward the dark prison. “You asked for it.”

  “No!” he begged.

  The door creaked open. The belt hit his legs as he fell forward into the dark. From beneath him came the sound of grinding shells… the smell of salt… then a loud clatter.

  …It woke him. Sweating like a tap he sat up. It was the cup that had fallen and lay in pieces at his feet. Damned apartments with their stone floors. He dodged them on his way to the drinktank. The chemwash wouldn’t help. He needed water to wash his face, but the tank was almost empty.

  All three days since Maike walked out had been the same. He’d been alone. Nobody had come to the door and nobody had called. That, of course, had everything to do with him breaking the unit, but he was glad of it. His spinner had been switched off. After the first night he’d dumped the last pouch of wine down the excretorial. Since then he’d been shivering and thirsty. He had pictured the kabin out there in orbit needing his attention, but he’d not left. He had to trust Krakat to do the best thing. And every night that same damned dream had pestered him, lasting longer every time. He had tried to stay awake yesterday, but tiredness must have overtaken him.

  His side still hurt. Just in case he checked it in the washroom. There was nothing there.

  “No way am I scared of these people,” he told the image in the mirror. It sneered at him. His hair stood on end — more grey than red now — and the circles around his eyes made him wonder if he’d been in a real fight. He turned away and started to pace the room but he couldn’t shake the feeling.

  It would be over soon. He only needed to get through the morning; just a few more hours. He was in need of food but had eaten the last mealmax yesterday. He used the leftover bit of water for the coffee and rehearsed his lines out loud, as if preparing for some technical manoeuvre that would not get a second chance; it was the only way to stay calm. “I came to apologize for losing my temper that day at the base.” A clear and cool voice. That line was key.

  “I’m sorry we couldn’t fit the device. I’m sorry we lied about it and I’m sorry for the things I said.” Yeah right. Just a string of words, spoken over and over in endless repetition. That was the back-up procedure. What he needed was to get the kabin to roll before he had to say those words.

  Whatever happened, today it would be over. He wouldn’t come back here. If he blew it... well, Breberer couldn’t be worse than this apartment. Just a few more hours.

  When the timedisk flashed eight he opened the door. The bright light hurt his eyes. He walked down the street — no airfloat, no enclosed spaces. It took an hour. “I’m doing this for Maike, for Krakat,” he said out loud.

  A woman gave him a quick look and moved to the other side.

  “I look weird and now I act weird too!” he yelled after her.

  He entered the building after taking his last deep breath and walked straight up the stairs, ignoring the calls for his ID check. He knew the security guard was right behind him when he knocked on the third floor door. One minute after nine. To only get this over with.

  “Come in.”

  Aryan threw open the door just as the guard took out his immobilizer and jumped inside. He scanned the room as the faces turned toward him. This was no office. It was endless, dark, and had gone silent at his appearance. Of the twelve people most were seated at the long table. Aryan recognized the back of Kalgar’s head. Markag was on the far end looking his direction.

  “I came to apologize for that day at the base, but they’re refusing to let me.” Aryan indicated the guard, who lowered his weapon instantly. Markag frowned, but walked to meet Aryan halfway the room. All eyes were on the two of them. “That’s what I came for, but like I said they tried to stop me.”

  The kabin responded as planned. The president relaxed in front of him. “Well that’s at least decent of you. Anything else?”

  “No, that’s it,” Aryan answered and stepped back. This had taken long enough. He needed out. The room, despite its size, felt claustrophobic.

  “Well then, thank you. I’m sure there’s still a lot of work you need to attend to.”

  Aryan heard the patronizing tone, but his relief was greater than his anger. He mumbled what should sound like a thank you and aimed for the door where the guard still stood gaping. A small smile was on Kalgar’s lips when he gave him a nod.

  Aryan almost ran down the stairs. He went to the first bar he could find and ordered a whole pack of wine. Only then could he put his mind on the kabin. He would call Maike later — she’d be proud of him — but first he needed to eat.

  He returned to the base that same day to await Krakat, but there wasn’t much left for him to do. The problem with the tubing was solved. The pilot section would have artificial light. Most of it was for storage and they’d work shifts anyhow. They could get their daylight on the habitats. The rest were minor details. Aryan couldn’t care less whether the inside of the rooms would be grey or blue, or what material the beds would be made of.

  A moon later he packed up. He had a last drink with the people he’d worked with for nearly twelve stations and left for the city to help Branag, the habitat engineer, who was behind schedule. At the end of the summer he travelled to the island continents to arrange for the shipment of crops and cattle. Though unwilling, the people co-operated. Every bit of cargo, including that which was alive, had to go through tests before being transported by boat to Southland. Nothing was to carry the risk of disease.

  “It would be a real shame if the kabin reached Kun DJar without a living soul left on it,” Branag joked.

  He didn’t joke when he complained about the wasted resources and the endless stacks of paper which were being created for the kabin. Trees had come from Freberer and rolls of woven cloth were reduced to pulp so the library could be transcribed from wave-partikels or straight from the wave library to paper for the colonists. It would be a year before the electronics on Kun DJar would be up and running, after which they could use the partikels to create a new library. For that reason boxes of partikels were transported to the base as well, along with wave-units, cables and processors, generators and pens to use for handwriting on the journey.

  “It’s one thing for a population to want to move and start over, but a whole different thing to try and move the whole civilization from the past as well,” Branag said.

  Aryan contacted his pilots. He wanted them to be prepared to be on the base from the first day of Station Six. They would have to check the eight lander-risers that were to accompany them to Kun DJar.

  Word came from Krakat that all was ready on the kabin. Life-support was being tested right now. He invited Aryan and Branag to go up on a riser once more to check it out. This time Aryan had nothing to keep him away. For the last time he packed up all he owned and left the city
to fly south.

  He wouldn’t miss anybody. He looked forward to the peace and freedom that lay ahead and the challenge that awaited him: the challenge of flying a spacekabin away from DJar and bring a mas of colonists to the next sun’s only inhabitable planet. This challenge was his biggest ever. Dangerous or not, he couldn’t wait to go.

  Ketemer

  8/1/5/6184

  It was Station Five. The crew list was official. Daili’s moon of postponements was at its end but she’d not talked to the girls, nor had she called the djarology department or Kalgar. She’d not done anything all moon but feel sick. All of a sudden her heart would start racing, causing her to feel sweaty and weak. She had headaches too. The first time she’d thought it was a cardiac problem, that she would die and not have to make the impossible choice. Then she’d felt guilty for thinking that.

  Now she knew there was no heart problem. “Signs of old age aggravated by stress,” according to the doctor. Old Age! Those words alone would give you stress. As she waited out this last spell in the mealsroom, her mind started confusing her. It reasoned first that if she was having old-age problems already she may as well stay here. It was too late anyway. On the other hand, if she went to Kun DJar maybe forty-four was still middle-aged.

  This whole stressful moon had come to a head just now. It was Anni’s recital night. She’d been nervously running around to get ready for the final rehearsal of her solo in the concert hall. The nerves didn’t help her be tactful to her sister and they’d been in another fight. Daili had only just managed to save Anni’s song script from being torn up and had ushered her out the door. Laytji had gone to her bed and was in tears, but Daili couldn’t go to soothe her until her own body calmed down. She swallowed a handful of headache tablets, just in case, and sipped the water.

  It took another sixteen minutes before she felt better and twice that long to convince Laytji she couldn’t stay home alone, so that they arrived at the concert hall with just minutes to spare.

  Daili knew most people there. That was the nice thing about a small community. It was a bit sad to think she’d be leaving soon, regardless of whether it was on a spaceflight or to Kolnuia.

  The performance was excellent. Anni clearly enjoyed it, which made Daili wonder once again if she had the right to ask her daughter to give up these pleasures just so she could explore a new planet.

  Late that evening in the mealsroom after Laytji had gone to sleep, Daili gave her a quick hug. “You did a wonderful job. I’m very proud of you.”

  “Yes, Mom. You know, I’ve been thinking: You know how I really don’t want to go to Kun DJar, but you and Laytji do, like Hani does, but Brita doesn’t?”

  “…Yes.” Daili had a feeling she may not want to hear what was coming.

  “Well, I was thinking, what if we did a swap? I would miss you very much and everything, but maybe we could do it and then everybody would have what they want.”

  Daili clapped her hand over her mouth and breathed into it. It was such an impossible thought, but it had come to her so often lately. “I couldn’t—” she began, but Anni interrupted.

  “The reason I was thinking it is because I heard Laytji and Hani on the wave the other day. They were talking about swapping with somebody. Hani could run away from home. That would be a stupid thing to do, but it got me thinking. What if we all agreed?”

  “Oh Anni, I couldn’t just leave you. I couldn’t!” She hugged her daughter again. It was such a desperate proposal.

  “Think about it, Mom. I’m going to sleep.”

  Daili let her go. She had thought about it so many times before. The pain in her head came back with a vengeance.

  The next day she confronted Laytji. “Have you seriously been making plans to do a swap and let Hani run away from home?”

  “Just so everybody could be happy. Hani thought so too,” Laytji defended herself.

  “You thought it would be a good idea for Hani to run away from home, go on a spacekabin, never come back, never even be able to say goodbye to her mom — disappear just like that and that would make everybody happy?”

  Laytji backed down. “It seemed a good idea at the time,” she admitted.

  “Well, I don’t want you girls to get any more good ideas,” Daili said. She made an effort to sound upset, but inwardly she had to smile at the innocent assumption that this would put everything right.

  All Freeday she thought about it. Both girls had been proposing the same thing. Rather than being forced to go, Anni would say goodbye and stay behind alone. Laytji, still so much younger, had jumped to the most obvious solution. But what about Hani? She’d seemed wise enough to understand the last time they talked.

  Daili knew she had to tell Brita. Instead, by the time the girls were going to bed, she got on the wave with Marita. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

  “I could always take Anni. You don’t have to organize a swap. If Anni really doesn’t want to go, you may have to choose to say goodbye, Daili. It’s not like you’d be deserting her. It would be a choice made by two people who have a different outlook on life. You’re the one always saying that. Respect Anni. She’s old enough to know what she’s talking about. It seems to me that you’re the one who is most confused.”

  “But Rita, what if she’s sorry later? What if I am?”

  “You can’t wait to find out what will happen later, Daili. You have to choose now. Try to picture yourself the day you turn Life. Pretend you’re looking back. You’re on DJar. There’s a colony on Kun DJar. Are you going to be sorry then, like Mom was? Or will you feel you’ve done everything you ever wanted?”

  Daili knew the answer. Just like Hani, she would never feel she’d done all she wanted if that kabin left without her.

  “You have to make the choice for you,” Marita went on. “I can’t do that for you. The children can’t either. They shouldn’t. You have the right to make the choices in your life, just like Anni has that same right. Be glad you have a choice. They’re sending half a mas of users who won’t find out where they’re going before they’re on their way.”

  “I know that, but it’s just so hard.”

  “Talk to Anni. Talk again. Tell her I would be delighted to have her if she wants to stay.”

  When she disconnected, Daili felt exhausted. Maybe it would have been better to be a user — to have somebody else make these impossible choices for you. It was a ridiculous thought. Unwillingly she sat down with a cup of coffee to consider the proposal again. The longer she could keep herself awake, the longer before it would be morning. Tomorrow they’d all insist on a final answer. Would she be able to give up her child to preserve everybody’s happiness, including her own? Would they be happy anyway? Could she honestly choose for herself without feeling guilty? Didn’t she have a life too, or was she supposed to give up all her own wishes because she was a mother? Would Kun DJar really be as beautiful as she was said to be? That idea was based on myth, Kun’s beautiful daughter, but it wasn’t a daughter, it was a far-away planet—

  “Sorry Mom, I couldn’t help hearing.”

  Anni came in and sat down next to Daili, resting her head against her mother’s chest. Daili wrapped both her arms around her daughter and cuddled her as if she was still little. “I don’t want you to feel I deserted you.”

  “Do you remember when Trika’s mom died?” Anni asked. Trika was a friend whose mother had died suddenly after a fall at work. “She didn’t know it was going to happen, but she’s gotten over it. She didn’t forget her mom, but she’s all right now.”

  “I know.” But an accident was not a conscious choice.

  “Every time you go to the city I’m afraid something will happen to the birdwing. Sometimes I think we should make a memory partikel for each other,” Anni said.

  “That’s a good idea.” Anni was certainly growing up.

  “I would be sad to loose you, Mom, but if you and Laytji stayed for me, I’d always have to live with the thought that you gave up your dream for
me. And I would feel really bad on your Lifeday, because if it wasn’t for me you’d have lived longer.”

  Halfway that last sentence Anni’s voice broke and she started crying, something Anni rarely did. Daili squeezed her tighter, letting the tears from her own eyes drip into Anni’s hair without trying to stop them.

  Anni took a deep breath before pulling herself out of Daili’s arms. She wiped her nose and looked up. “Mom, I think you should go. Let me stay with Marita. We could make each other a memory partikel and then— …I would still be sad, but it would be a different kind of sad, you know?” More tears started streaming.

  Daili knew what Anni meant and she knew she would agree. It seemed the only thing she could do. Anni stayed cuddled up with her for a long time. Were children more mature nowadays or was it the circumstances that made it so?

  The next morning before Learners they talked to Laytji. Daili worried she would jump for joy and make her sister feel bad, but she didn’t. When reality set in she also started crying. “I want to stay with Mom, but I also want to stay with you,” she said to Anni.

  “Hey, we’d never have a fight anymore,” Anni joked, but nobody laughed.

  The decision had been made; not really made, but it had grown on them. Daili couldn’t truly believe it yet. Now she’d have to make a memory for her daughter; something to always remind Anni who her mother had been. It would be even harder for Anni, who’d have to do it on paper.

  Daili informed Kalgar and the djarology department and over the next few days she also told a couple of close friends on the island and she told Marita. What she didn’t do was talk to Brita. The excuse was that she didn’t want to put Brita under pressure, but to be quite honest, she didn’t know what to say.