Double Exposure
Andrea L. Staum
At the end of the twenty-first century the human race escaped to the stars. They left behind a poisoned world. There was no shock, no surprise; for centuries, pollution and other manmade disasters had eaten away at the finite natural resources until the Earth finally could stand no more.
As the signs of the impending destruction became obvious, those with forethought realized the need for an Exodus and construction of the colonies began. Hundreds of self-sustaining spheres, each housing thousands, were created to replace a planet that had been home to billions.
The resources brought on board were more limited than Earth had had and stress formed between the colonies; to keep order a central government formed, The United Defense Satellite. Under the guidance of UD the colonies achieved a harmony that had only been dreamed of Planetside.
In the quest for more resources, UD continued to explore beyond its borders of the Solar System and send ships out into the void. They began to look to the stars…
“Ack! Idiot!” I exclaimed before batting away the screen and running my fingers through my thick black hair in frustration.
“Are you alright, Kohana?” Master Hobart asked from outside my cubicle.
I jumped at the soft whisper of his voice. The sound of his soft, sandaled steps hadn’t reached my distracted mind. “I can’t write this!” I glowered.
He stepped in and read the words on the screen. “That is pretty bad for you. What is wrong? Your work is usually of a much higher caliber than this rubbish.”
“Why do I need to write this? Everyone knows about the Exodus,” I whined.
He shook his head and pinched his nose between his fat thumb and forefinger. Horbart took a deep breath before answering. “Because, you are an Archivist and recording the past is your profession.”
“The past, yes. This,” I held up the stack of plasti-print reports I was supposed to translate into non-technical English, “is not the past.”
“It may be the recent past, but it is still the past. Take a break. You have a letter.” He held the white envelope out. “Actually, stop. You haven’t time to finish.”
I took the letter from his outstretched hand. “What do you mean?”
“Look at the time. Today is the day you leave. Or did I foolishly remind you?” He gave a soft chuckle.
Realization reached me. “It’s today? I have several more topics to finish!” I whirled around in my chair, snatching at my screen.
“No, you don’t. I’ll give the assignments to others.” Master Hobart drew my hands away from the board.
“I have failed you.” I hung my head in disgrace.
The act of humility sent the old Archivist into a fit of laughter. “Hardly.” He wiped away a tear from his eye. “Now, read your letter.” He left me, still chuckling to himself.
I looked at the envelope I had tossed aside in my hurried attempt to finish my work. It was a normal envelope. Nothing special, but the neat cursive on it told me right away whom it was from. I grabbed it from the floor and ripped it open.
Dearest Granddaughter,
I cannot say that I am pleased with your decision to join the Terran Exploration Crews. Journeys to Planetside have proven dangerous, and many fine men and women have been lost. I know you wish to find yourself, but going to the poisoned Earth is not likely the path to do so.
Your letter said that you felt drawn to the mysteries of the blue world. My takoja that is merely your immersion into your work. You are a wonderful Archivist and keep the past alive for the future generations. There is no need to endanger yourself. But, I am an old fool and you will do what you wish. Be careful, Kohana, and may the Great Spirit watch over you.
My Everlasting Love,
Grandfather
I folded the letter and set it on the aluminum shelf that lined my cubicle. It wasn’t the first discouraging letter that Grandfather had sent, but it would be the last. Secretly, I knew he wanted me to go; the letters were merely to comfort my mother. Grandfather had a drifter’s spirit in an idle society. He envied my going.
I turned to see Master Hobart still there. “Another letter from the Admiral?” he inquired.
“However did you know?” I asked with a wink.
Hobart laughed, his wrinkles crinkled to the point that they hid his gray eyes. “Only the Admiral sends paper letters. Everyone else would text it to you. Paper doesn’t grow on trees anymore.” He laughed at his own joke when he really was hurt by the fact. Hobart cared little for the present. He knew the greatness of the past and wished that we could return to the complexity of it.
In the hundred years since Earth had been poisoned, the people of the United Defense Colonies had subsided into a laxness that bothered few. Life was simple and everything could be generated. Still, it wasn’t enough. There were still products that couldn’t be recycled and paper was among the items that never recycled completely. After a century, only the Admiral had a pure stock, without the grayish tint most paper held. The plasti-print pages that had replaced the archaic pages, erased easily and didn’t wrinkle.
“What are you thinking, Kohana?” Hobart had stopped laughing and was looking at me with a blend of seriousness and curiosity.
“What do you think of my going?” I asked, for the first time realizing I hadn’t actually cleared my plans with my Trade Master.
He brought his hand under his chin and propped his head up as he mulled the question over. “Well I am losing my best apprentice, excuse me, Master. The Archivist trade is already a tough one, since it is not prosperous. Knowing our past is important, but no one seems willing to pay much for it. Training a new archivist may very well tax what is left of my patience. Still…” He tilted his head to the side and looked me in the eyes. “Go, Kohana Ohanzee. Your soul has been restless for some time now. This adventure will do you some good. See the planet that you study about daily. See where our people came from. UD wanted an Archivist on this mission and I could not supply them with anyone better suited than you.”
I stood and hugged my Master. “Thank you.”
“Your shuttle is leaving soon. So this will be our good-bye,” he reminded as we drew apart. “Find your spirit, girl. And remember, a part of you never leaves the places you have been…”
“And the rest of your soul is forever searching for that missing part.” I finished the old line that I had heard almost every day since my first day in the Archive. That had been six years ago. I was leaving it for most likely the last time, but somehow, it didn’t sadden me. I was excited to be doing something other than stare at a terminal screen. I was going to actually do something with my life. In truth, I was ecstatic about leaving, but I couldn’t let Master Hobart see that. It would sadden him.
I made my way through the bustling corridors to the central elevators of the colony. I had been told to bring only a DataCard containing the entire Archive on it. Everything else would be provided for me. I had argued that the Archive was too vast for one card and with some persuasion on Master Hobart’s part, not to mention Grandfather’s, I was allowed to bring a binder containing approximately 50 cards. Even that had been contested due to weight concerns, but the cards weighed, at most, a half-kilo together, and that was a high estimate.
The elevator filled quickly and I was thankful for my lack of luggage.
“WELCOME, ARCHIVIST OHANZEE,” the elevator’s metallic voice chimed when I wedged myself in. “DESTINATION?”
“Craft Port.” I answered.
“ACKNOWLEDGED.”
Only two levels separated the Archive and the Craft Port and the doors whooshed open after half a minute. Most the elevator’s occupants exited. I followed the mass, unsure of where I was to go.
“Ohanzee!” A young man’s voice shouted above the dreary noise of the crowd.
I spotted him quickly. Among the uniformed monotony of my colony’s occupants, he stood out. He was tall, for one, and didn’t wear the
standard UD uniform. He had on a pilot’s attire, black slacks and tan shirt, complimented with an old style bomber jacket that must be a family heirloom from Planetside. “I am Ohanzee,” I answered when I was near enough for him to hear.
He gave a curt nod. “McLean. I’m to escort you to the satellite. But first you are requested to change into your uniform.”
“Uniform?”
He turned and picked up a package from a table and handed it to me. “Here.”
“All right,” I acquiesced, looking at the package. “I’ll just step into the restroom then.”
He nodded and leaned against the wall.
I removed the jacket and pants, both in the signature metallic blue of the UD satellite, freeing them from their plastic wrapping and changed in a stall. The synthetic, form-fitting jacket was tight across my chest, restricting my breathing. The Archivist emblem was on the upper arms of the sleeves. I looked at the crossed scroll and quill and smiled. Only Master Hobart would have been able to convince a technological society to issue such an antiquated style for a seal, but the seal was nothing compared to my standard robe-like uniform. I rolled my tunic and skirt into a ball and returned to McLean.
“You won’t need your Archivist’s clothes.” He took the bundle from me and handed it to a port attendant. “Make sure this is returned to the Archive.”
“Aye, Captain,” the girl blushed as she took the clothes from the handsome pilot before heading for the elevators.
“Now follow me, Ohanzee. The shuttle is ready for departure.” McLean turned from me and started through the crowd.
I followed close behind, not wishing to lose sight of him. I realized that it would be hard to do, since McLean was taller than most members of my colony, and his golden hair stood out amongst the dark shades that adorned almost everyone.
We broke free of the crowd and entered the BayHall, a corridor of tempered glass that allowed pilots and maintenance technicians to reach their ships without atmosphere suits. Only the thick glass kept out the vacuum of space. All craft were prepared around the BayHall and then shuttled to a passenger terminal.
“Here we are,” McLean stated as he keyed in his ID code on one of the door panels. A minute elapsed as the connection between hall and craft was made safe to enter. The door slid down, allowing us entry. “Watch your step, sometimes these doors don’t open all the way. Oh, and watch your head, the BIX 12 doesn’t have much headroom.”
I followed his instructions, remembering that the BIX line were small courier craft not meant for human transport. At most, three passengers were allowed and that included the pilot.
“Can you watch the traffic panel?” he asked and pointed to a pale yellow panel. “I’m going to radio the satellite. Just yell when the green light’s given.” McLean sat in the pilot’s chair and turned his attention to the ComPad.
I took the seat next to the indicated panel. The message for departure scrolled quickly across the screen. “We can go.” I told him.
“Alrighty then.” He turned the knobs and switches that released the magnetic field that held the craft to the colony. “Sit back and enjoy the ride Ohanzee. We’ll reach the station in an hour.”
McLean made short work of programming our course into the computer. He leaned over and checked the traffic panel, giving a nod to show that I had read it correctly.
“I’m not used to taking passengers, Ohanzee, so please forgive any rudeness on my part.” He stretched his arms, rapping his knuckles against the ceiling of the craft.
“It’s fine. I’m not used to dealing with people in general.” I smiled, somewhat bitterly.
“I suppose not. The Archive is a restricted trade, isn’t it?”
“Yes. The selection process is tedious.”
“Why did you decide on it then?” he tilted his head to the side. He was trying to take measure of me, but I was not going to flirt with him. I would simply be myself, which was more blunt than anything.
“Why did you want to be a pilot?” I retorted.
“Who can sit in a colony all day? Pilots are the only ones with one hundred percent freedom among the colonies.”
“No, they aren’t.” I sat back, crossing my arms.
He turned away from me to look at an instrument panel. “Well, we do have contracts and some are UD officers, but most can choose where to go and what to do.” His voice held an edge to it.
I bit my lip. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“What else could you mean?” He returned his gaze to me. It was colder than it had been.
“I meant that the Archive has more freedom than being a pilot.”
He arched an eyebrow.
I fumbled for the words to explain. “I… I know we, Archivists, don’t leave the Archive and we don’t go on daring adventures or even simple cross-colony jumps, but we travel farther.” I put the binder of DataCards on the panel in front of me. “In here is everything that has ever happened to mankind. Historically or mythically. It is all here. Every day I can travel to another land to see another culture. Learn what we once were and how we became what we are.” I was pleading with him to understand. Few could understand. No one cared what had happened, just what was happening.
McLean surprised me when he smiled. “I’ve never thought about it like that. Still, you only read what’s on the cards. You don’t see the places or the people. No offense, but you’re a glorified daydreamer. We can’t return to what we were.”
“Why not?”
“The way we were caused Earth to be poisoned. We’ve cleaned up our act and managed to keep the colonies going for over a century,” he replied with a self-satisfied smirk.
“Earth lasted more than twenty. It’s only a matter of time before we repeat the mistakes of the past.” I laughed. “Funny, when it happens, no one will realize it because they don’t know what happened before. That’s why we need to know. So we don’t mess up again.” I wasn’t looking at him anymore. I was looking at my clenched fists in my lap.
McLean placed a hand over mine. “You have amazing passion. You’ll do well in the crew. You’re exactly what they’ll need.”
I met his gaze. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that you’ll keep them in line down on Planetside. You’ll show them why it’s important to learn from the past. Why do you think they are sending crews Planetside, Ohanzee?”
“I don’t know.” I replied honestly. I didn’t know why there was a sudden interest with old Earth when the missions to outlying regions were proving successful and we were close to finding another terrestrial settlement.
“Because…” he inhaled deeply and let the breath out slowly before continuing. “We are very close to repeating those mistakes you are worried about. Supplies aren’t as well stocked anymore and the colonies are expanding. Most of the UD Brass are thinking of re-inhabiting Earth, but they need to know if it is habitable.”
“How do you know this?”
“I have my sources.” He smiled enigmatically and left the conversation there.
The rest of the flight to station was spent in comfortable silence. I sat back and rested my eyes. The cockpit of the BIX was softly illuminated and gave the feeling of what dawn or dusk must have been like when such a thing existed. Docking went smoother than I had experienced before, with the shuttle barely shuddering as the magnetic field took hold.
I stepped out of the craft, careful not to hit my head on the low opening. I was surprised by the amount of activity in the bay. My colony’s Craft Port always appeared busy, but nothing ever seemed to be achieved. Here, everyone was doing something and there was a strange order to the chaos.
“We work differently here.” McLean grinned, noticing my distraction.
“What can they be doing?” I asked.
“Sending out supplies, filling orders, that sort of thing. The Satellite regulates the trading among the colonies and makes sure nothing is lacking.”
“Thus enters the Big Brother society,” I whispered und
er my breath.
“Beg pardon?” McLean asked.
“Never mind. I was just reminded of something I read.”
He shrugged. “You are to report to Admiral Ohan…” he stopped, finally making the connection that I feared. He gathered himself quickly. “Admiral Ohanzee.”
“No need for her to report since I am right here.” My grandfather stood before us. His uniform was a darker blue than the standard issue and made him stand out among the drones, who stumbled in their work at the sight of the leader of the United Defense.
McLean snapped to attention quickly. “Yes, Sir. Archivist Ohanzee delivered safe and sound.”
Grandfather chuckled, his white teeth standing out from his dark skin. His complexion was much darker than my own. I stood out among those who came from Old European stock; I was a half-breed. Or, that is what I would be called if anyone had cared for the past.
“Go prepare yourself, McLean. You’ve been requested to join the Exploration Crew.”
McLean’s light blue eyes shone brightly at the news. “Yes, Sir.” He took this as his dismissal and left us.
“Does every new recruit get greeted by the Admiral?” I asked.
“Not every single one. But then not every recruit is my granddaughter, who locked herself away in the Archive many years ago. Hmmm. You have grown.” He stood back a step to appraise me.
I could feel my cheeks redden.
“Come, Kohana. There are only a few hours left before you leave.” Grandfather put his arm around me and we headed out of the Craft Port.
“A few hours?” I was surprised. I thought there would be more time to learn about my position on the Exploration Crew and get to know my comrades.
“Yes.”
We turned onto a moving walkway that sped our journey to the outer offices.
“You will be working with a handpicked crew, Kohana.” Grandfather boasted as he keyed in the security code for his office.
“When will I meet them?”
“Soon. The briefing is scheduled at fourteen hundred hours. It is now twelve hundred. I’ll take this opportunity for a departing meal with my granddaughter.”
After Tomorrow: A CHBB Anthology Page 33