by Alex Drozd
Too bad I had to get up so early, he thought to himself. An extra hour of sleep before class would have been nice. His programming class would be turning in their first projects today, and Stuart would have liked to have been fully rested before facing the emotional trauma that was to follow such a thing. A good deal of anxiety had been hanging over this assignment—the first assignment of a class was always like that for him.
Brian walked a few feet in front of him, heading for the pipeline.
“All right, Stu,” his father huffed. The fat man’s voice was even deeper this early in the morning. “Let’s get this done.”
Stuart gripped the lid to the purifier as his father changed the filter. It had been designed to close itself unless manually held open. The colony on Janus couldn’t risk things getting into its water distribution.
Replacing the component only took a few minutes. As Stuart was turning around, ready to go back inside and grab half an hour more of sleep, Brian said, “Hold on, Stu. The real reason I had us get up so early was so I could talk to you.”
Stuart froze. He suppressed his frown. It wasn’t exactly warm out here. He turned around.
“I don’t have to go in early. I need to talk to you about your mother,” Brian said.
“Okay,” Stuart said, unsure.
“She’s going to be really upset when you see her this morning, and I want to make sure you don’t say the wrong thing.”
“What’s she upset about?”
“We’d already had dinner when her boss called last night. So I guess you’d already gone to your room for the night. Well, they rejected her newest painting. This is the first one she’s submitted after getting hired.”
“Do the artists here get rejected a lot?”
Brian shrugged. “Well, we really don’t know. This program she’s doing is just getting started. This might be normal and she could just be overreacting, but Stu, I’m telling you, she’s upset. Whatever you do, you only talk about her drawings as if they’re perfect, okay? I mean perfect—some of the best you’ve ever seen.”
“All right,” Stuart said. He turned to walk away.
“You don’t have anything else to say?”
“Like what?”
“Come on, boy. Aren’t you curious at all why this deserves some attention? Look at what’s going around you for once.”
“I am.”
“You spend all your time on that computer. Maybe I should have told you to rank in going outside or something. Hmm.”
“It’s part of my work.”
“Yeah, that’s the problem. Whatever, you’ll make a good programmer. But come on, talk to me. You think I didn’t notice how little you interacted with everybody on Earth? Cliff was practically the only one talking when he spoke to you, and you know, I don’t think I even saw you and Jody talk that much. You all right, Stu? Something bothering you?”
“I’m tired, Dad. I just finished basic and I’m already getting certified.”
“That’s normal here.”
“Yeah, but Jody had been out of school for two weeks when we were there, and didn’t he have like another month after that? Is there a name for a break that long?”
“I think it was only three weeks, but I don’t know, a sabbatical or something. We don’t get those here. Come on, boy. We’re building the next Earth. Don’t you get that? Don’t you like it here better?”
“I do.”
“Then why this moping?”
“I’m not moping.”
“If moping was mopping this whole damn planet would be clean,” Brian boomed. “Yes you are, Stu. That’s the word for it; you’ve been mopey. Well, join your mother. She’s having trouble accepting the rejection.” The man chuckled, “Now there’s a funny sentence. Anyways, son, about that—you understand me?”
“Yes, Dad,” Stuart said. There was silence. He knew he was expected to say something else, so he racked his brains for some question he could ask, anything at all to satisfy his father’s wish to hear him speak. “Why is mom so upset?” he said, hoping that would do it.
It did.
“She’s not used to dealing with rejection, I guess. I don’t know, son, she’s just the most upset I’ve ever seen her. I mean, when Emma died she was sad, crying a lot and all that, but this time she’s depressed. It’s different. I think her self-esteem jumped away from her after her boss called. They told her to paint a new one, and they must have told her how to do it in a tone she did not like or something, because that’s the part that has her most bitter. You make damn sure you agree with her when she says something about that. You say, ‘Yeah, how can they ask you to make a different one?’ You look horrified at the idea, you hear me?”
“All right, Dad,” Stuart even chuckled. “I get it.”
His father grinned at him. “I am running my mouth, aren’t I? Well, you get the idea. All right, let’s go back inside.”
Relieved, Stuart hustled to the door. The heating in the dwelling unit was something he had taken for granted before he stepped out. He made sure to get inside quickly, not only for the warmth, but to avoid further conversation with his father. He had not liked that, how his father pried the conversation out of him. It had been embarrassing for the both of them.
Once he was in the bedroom, he frowned at the clock. There wouldn’t be much time for sleep, but he went for it anyway. It turned into one of those sleeps where he felt like he remembered the whole thing, meaning he was really awake but with eyes half closed. He couldn’t tell if it helped with the exhaustion or not, if it was even worth it.
When it was time to enter the kitchen, Stuart braced himself for whatever mood his mother was in. Maybe his father had exaggerated, or he had been so mistrusting of Stuart that he was being overcautious, making sure he didn’t say something absurd, as if Stuart ever really said anything at all.
Brenda stood at the counter, looking at her PortScreen. Food was cooking in the heater. That was uncommon. She usually put more effort into breakfast on work days, Stuart thought, but heeding his father’s advice, the young man didn’t say a thing. He took his seat at the table.
A few moments passed before Brenda said good morning to him.
“Morning,” he echoed.
“I have bad news,” she said.
Stuart braced himself. He turned a concerned expression to her, one that he hoped was convincing.
“My painting got rejected,” she said with spite. “They didn’t like it.”
“Oh. I thought it was good.”
“They said it was good,” Brenda breathed quickly. “But they said it was too similar to the one I submitted for the application.”
Stuart wasn’t sure what to say. He shook his head back and forth, trying to look a tad distraught. That was the appropriate response, right? He hoped so.
“They told me I have to draw what they tell me to, pretty much,” Brenda went on. Her demeanor had turned to ice. A vindictive pair of eyes fell upon him. “I don’t get to submit anymore. I commission.” She said it as if she wanted to spit out the word.
“What does that mean?” Stuart asked.
“It means they don’t think I’m good enough to buy my work up front. They want me to satisfy special orders, things that the money’s already guaranteed for.” She stared at the table for a few moments, lost in thought. She looked back up at him, “It’s a demotion. I’ve pretty much lost my job after the first painting I submitted.”
Stuart gave his mother a painful look. “I’m sorry, Mom. Is there anything I can do?”
“I like drawing because I get to draw what I think looks interesting. What I think. It’s fun because I get to mark down whatever I want at that moment. I can’t paint what someone tells me to. I don’t want to paint for people. I want to paint for myself.” She bit her lip. “I just don’t want to do that.”
“Are you going to quit?”
It was the wrong question apparently. Brenda broke out into sobs. Stuart gulped, regretting what he had done. He coul
d hear his father rushing in from the other room.
“What’s wrong, dear?” Brian asked with a soothing inflection.
“I’m going to have to get certified,” Brenda choked between tears.
“Did Stu say something to you?” Brian asked, raising his deep voice.
“What do I do, Brian? I can’t go back to school, where I would be at my kid’s level.”
“It’s not school,” Stuart said with a little too much attitude. He wasn’t supposed to disagree with his mother right now. “It’s certification training.”
“It’s school, Stu,” his mother groaned at him.
“Don’t talk like that to your mother, boy,” Brian boomed at him. He turned to his tear-stained wife. “Honey, why don’t you go back to the bedroom? I’ll take care of breakfast.”
“But you have work.”
“I have time. Don’t worry.”
His mother went away, leaving Brian and Stuart alone in the kitchen.
“Nice going, Stu,” his father said.
On the way to school, Stuart had a lot on his mind. There was the matter of his mental condition, his imaginary friends whom he didn’t consent to imagining, but there was also the incident with his mother that morning.
It was a strange feeling, his new sentiment for a previous parent-figure. He had never liked his parents, but he had at least respected them in his own strange way. But now, that deference for her was gone.
He certainly didn’t want to do what people told him to, but that was the way of life. He’d been coming to accept that ever since he was born, hard as it was to do so. And now here she was, someone who taught him his place in the world, apoplectic at the idea of not getting to do exactly as she wanted in all instances of life. How dare she have to work. That word hung in his head. How dare she not be allowed to have fun with her responsibilities.
What if he said to hell with it on his programming assignments? What if he just refused to do those Boolean statement exercises he hated? Did something else instead? Things wouldn’t end will for him. Saying to hell with it wasn’t an option for anybody.
It made him mad, angry that he was a young man with all these things on his plate that he wished he could spill, and here she was, a grown woman and a parent, collapsing at the hint of a challenge. Why shouldn’t she have to get her Ranks? Everyone else had to. He had to. Why should she be granted the special privilege of not having to perform some function?
He wondered this while in the clothes she had washed for him, and he was still wondering about it as the school day started. Once inside the classroom, he turned in the project due for Mr. Timsina’s class, the one that had taken him at least ten hours to finish.
Or maybe I’m just upset I have to serve these functions, Stuart thought to himself, and I’m just looking for someone who might not be doing theirs.
Once class ended, the handsome boy, Jerry, spoke to Stuart as they were putting their things away, getting ready to leave for lunch.
“Hey,” Jerry said, stuffing a tablet into his backpack. “So we rode the same bus together for basic?”
“Yeah,” Stuart said. Of all the three buses on the planet that went to the education building, he thought, we rode the same one. Amazing.
“That’s crazy, huh? And now we’re here.”
“Yeah,” Stuart said.
“Do you think your project turned out all right?” Jerry asked.
“I don’t know. It’s the first one.”
“Yeah, I hope he gives me a good grade on it. I’m here on probation.”
“What?”
“I technically didn’t pass basic.” Jerry laughed. “I failed a class a few weeks ago. It was just so boring, you know? So, I’m on a tight leash while I’m here.”
“Oh,” Stuart said. “Well, I’m sure you did fine.”
“Thanks,” Jerry said with a big smile. “Hey, where are you going to eat?”
“Over by the Olympus District.”
“What? Really? That’s so far.”
I know, thought Stuart. It’s so you guys don’t see me eating. I get uncomfortable when my classmates see me consuming food. Good thing I’m not saying any of this out loud.
“Yeah,” Stuart said.
“Well, no wonder I haven’t seen you all week. Well, hey, I’ll come with you.”
“Oh, okay,” Stuart said. He was thrilled that the handsome boy wanted to socialize with him, where people would see them together. All the colonists would look over, and there he would be next to a pretty person. It was the confirmation he needed, and he was lucky enough that Jerry was willing to provide it. He wanted to thank him. He wanted to drop to his hands and knees and worship the boy for giving him the slightest bit of attention.
Stuart also hated him for that, hated him for possibly being aware of Stuart’s appreciation somewhere in the back of his mind. That’s probably why Jerry was doing this, to feel good about himself for providing medicine to the sick. Use me as a way to promote his image in his own mind.
They left for the Olympus District, a collection of units within walking distance. There was a public cafeteria there. Once inside, they got in line.
“How busy are they usually?” Jerry asked.
It was the type of small talk that would have ordinarily annoyed Stuart, but it came from Jerry, and whichever way Jerry chose to acknowledge his presence, he was happy with it.
“Oh, about this busy,” Stuart said. “Don’t worry, this line won’t take too long.”
“What class do you have after this?”
“DreamWeaver.”
“You’re learning DreamWeaver first?”
“Yeah, aren’t you?”
“I picked TT for my first computer language.”
“I thought everyone picked DreamWeaver.”
“I thought everyone picked TT.”
They both laughed and looked ahead to see how many more people stood in the way of them and the cashier. There were only seven or so. Jerry turned to look back at Stuart.
“Well, how is it that we’re talking to each other?”
“Huh?”
“How are we talking to each other if we’re both doing different languages?”
It was the type of joke that if it had come from his mother or father, he might have wished them dead on the spot, but this was coming from Jerry, and Jerry was a pretty person willing to be seen with Stuart. That made for an exceptional difference; one so exceptional that Stuart laughed out loud at what most would have considered an above average volume.
Once they had signed in, they collected their food from the dispensers and the cooks. The meal consisted of various synthetic meats and frozen vegetables. The two young men found themselves an empty couple of seats at the end of one of the tables and sat down.
“Oh damn,” Jerry said. “We forgot to get drinks.”
“I’ll get them,” Stuart said. He was feeling more submissive than normal.
“Oh, really? Thanks, I appreciate that. Just get me a water.”
“All right,” Stuart said. He put his food down and went to the liquid dispensers.
The room was a wide open dining hall, with white walls and a fresh supply of air from the high-end filtration system stationed above. The room’s layout was almost perfectly square, and the drinks were on the opposite corner from where they were seated. Stuart had to pass quite a few people on his way there. He brushed past his fellow colonists, eager to carry a glass of water back to his new friend. He would have to make sure it was a good cup of water, too. It couldn’t taste funny. If it did, his friend might suspect he had done something to it—like that he’d spit or dipped a finger in it. Stuart was strange, and those would be strange things to do. It was imperative he made sure the water was normal.
While he was pouring himself a sample cup, it happened.
“Stuart.”
He winced at the sound. It all came crashing back down. They always came when he wasn’t expecting it. Why had he let his apprehensions die down
for even one second? How could he be so careless? He had to focus on the fear, obsess over it. Constantly thinking about them was the only thing that made them go away.
“Stuart,” the voice he recognized repeated.
Stuart turned to face the thin man.
17
Without responding, Stuart turned away from him. He put the water cups down by the dispenser and began walking out of the building.
“Hold on, Stuart,” the thin man said, following behind him.
Stuart ignored him and continued to leave. He would have to make up some excuse to tell Jerry later; right now, getting away from this man was his only goal.
“Stuart, stop. I need to talk to you.”
They passed rows of people, finally coming to the exit doors. Stuart didn’t acknowledge the thin man in any way. He was afraid if he did, the people around him might hear him—and maybe by refusing to acknowledge him the thin man might go away.
He didn’t.
“Stuart, I’m serious! I need to talk to you.”
They were outside, now, walking down the sidewalk at a fast pace. Once they were in an area with fewer people, Stuart almost broke into a sprint—a half run, half walk kind of movement. He hoped no one saw him oddly rushing down the street like this.
The thin man trailed behind him the entire time, not letting up. “Stuart, hold on, Stuart.”
Stuart didn’t even know where he was going, but he kept on. It was a game of patience—who would give up first?
He slowed down when they came upon a busier part of the colony. There was a small amount of hover car traffic to his left, and a group of people farther down the sidewalk were approaching him. Could they see the thin man? Or could only Stuart? He wished he knew, but he didn’t dare ask to find out.
“Stuart, I know you talked to Dwayne.”
That comment gave him pause. He turned to look at the thin man.
“We need to talk.”
Stuart covered his ears with his hands. He shut his eyes tight and hummed a tune to himself.
“You can’t just ignore me.”
“Dwayne said not to trust you.”
“And I’m telling you not to trust Dwayne.”