by Luiza Sauma
Luiza Sauma
* * *
EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANTED
Contents
EARTH: Eight Years Ago 0. Another Sun
NYX: Seven Years Ago 1. Everything Was New
EARTH: Eight Years Ago 2. Freedom
3. Interview #1
4. Cygnets
5. Destiny
6. Thank You, Smog
7. Terrible Thing
8. Interview #2
9. I Want to Win
10. Robert Who?
11. The Experiment
12. Interview #3
13. Goodbye Pie
14. Say Something, Anything
15. Departure
SOMEWHERE: Seven Years Ago 16. Floating
NYX: Seven Years Ago 17. Year 1
NYX: Present Day 18. These Are the Things She Misses the Most
19. No Place Like Home
20. These Are the Things
21. Cleaning
22. These Are the Things
23. Elias
24. These Are the Things
25. Silent Night
26. Things
27. Wake Up!
28. Things
29. All This Longing
30. Do People Still Care about Kim Kardashian?
31. No One Is Watching
32. Someone Is Watching
33. Call Me Maybe
34. A Ghost? A Vision?
35. Kaddish
36. The Ecstasy of Approaching Death
37. The Missing
38. Tweet-Tweet-Twoo
39. This Is Where It Ends
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Luiza Sauma was born in Rio de Janeiro and raised in London. Her first novel, Flesh and Bone and Water, received widespread critical acclaim and she was listed by the Telegraph as one of their ‘ones to watch’ for 2017. Luiza worked at the Independent on Sunday for several years before becoming a novelist. She has an MA in Creative and Life Writing from Goldsmiths, University of London, where she won the Pat Kavanagh Award.
For Tim and Yara
EARTH
* * *
Eight Years Ago
0.
Another Sun
Iris first heard about Life on Nyx on a freezing winter’s night. She was at a pub in London, drinking with her work friends. Winter, pub, London, work – she never imagined that these things would seem exotic one day, but they do. It was a Thursday. Her mind returns to that night over and over again. It’s like rewatching an old film, hoping its ending will be different but it’s always the same.
She had heard of Nyx, of course, but not the TV show – it had only just been announced. She knew that Nyx was a terrestrial planet, much smaller than Earth. She knew that its solar system could only be reached via an underwater wormhole in the Pacific Ocean. She knew it had no moons. She knew that Nyx was tidally locked, so that, unlike Earth, it didn’t turn on its axis. On one side it was always day and on the other, night. Its light side was a pale pink desert and its dark side – who knows? Iris had seen photos online. In most of them, Nyx looked like a pink Sahara. In some pictures, in the distance, there was an indigo lake surrounded by forest. Everything was untouched, like Earth had once been. Iris had read that Nyx’s atmosphere wasn’t conducive to human life, but a few people were already living there, inside a sealed structure called ‘the Hub’. They were there for good. There was no way back.
Not knowing about Nyx was limited to the old, the insane and the cut-off-from-humanity, though a British anthropologist, Maria Temple, once visited a remote tribe in the Amazon rainforest, and even they had heard of Nyx, through word of mouth. They didn’t fully understand what a planet was, or a solar system, or the universe. A baby girl in the tribe was named after the planet. Dr Temple took a photo of baby Nyx with her phone. Two weeks later, after she uploaded it to Facebook, the photograph appeared in the New York Times and was shared by millions of people around the world. Iris had once seen it, briefly, while sitting on the bus to work, looking at her phone, but it didn’t pique her interest, so her thumb continued scrolling.
The morning after the pub, she found the image again: a naked brown baby with tufts of black hair and a string of beads around her neck, adorably new and far away from civilization. And then she found what she was looking for. The Life on Nyx website was elegantly designed, with minimalist fonts and soothing, pastel colours. Iris worked on websites, so she couldn’t help but admire it. The Nyx Inc logo was a discreet pale grey, almost hidden at the bottom of the page. The background was a photograph of some sand dunes, glowing pink in the sun. Another sun, not ours. A breeze whipped sand into the air. It wasn’t a photo, she realized. It was a video. A button said ‘Click for sound’. Iris clicked and heard the wind blowing on Nyx, this other planet, millions of light years away. Sssss, it went, both gentle and hypnotic. She was extremely hungover. Words appeared over the video, then disappeared and were replaced by other words:
a beautiful new planet
a meaningful new life
are you ready?
ENTER
Iris could taste bile at the back of her throat. She swallowed and took a few quick, shallow breaths. She was definitely going to puke – it was only a matter of time. But first, she clicked ‘ENTER’.
There was a long, complicated application form. There were other videos. There was a list of funders, including several well-known billionaires. There was an architectural plan for the expanded Hub, where the Life on Nyx community would live: a central, circular building with eight long annexes – like rays of light emanating from a sun. There were computer-generated images of the Hub’s interior. Everything looked clean and new, light-filled, immaculate. An indoor farm, abundant with fruit and vegetables, ready to be picked. A cafeteria with tables, chairs and a counter, and ceiling-to-floor windows overlooking the landscape. A large room where people were exercising together, while others sat on sofas, reading. The CGI people were identically dressed in elegant, loose grey clothes, their faces calm and content as they walked down corridors, worked, ate meals and socialized. They had similar, ageless faces, but a variety of skin-tones.
Iris clicked ‘play’ on another video. You can still find it online, deep in the archives of the Life on Nyx website, but it might not be up for much longer.
A man in his fifties with longish silver hair sits in front of a control panel that’s covered with hundreds of buttons, switches, knobs and monitors. Above the panel, through a large window, you can see Nyx’s empty, pink landscape. The man’s face is open, earnest and ruggedly handsome, like an ageing movie star. In his youth, he must have been spectacular. His skin glows and his eyes are blue. He leans into the camera and smiles.
‘Hello there, I’m Norman Best,’ he says, in an English accent with a transatlantic twang. ‘I’m the director of the Hub, the future home of the Life on Nyx community. We’re very busy at the moment, getting ready for our big launch. We can’t wait to welcome you to our beautiful planet.’ Big smile. Norman has great teeth.
The film cuts to a montage of Nyxian scenes: pink sand, indigo lake, CGI rooms. Electronic music pulses in the background. The film returns to Norman.
‘We’re looking for a hundred tenacious, committed, hard-working team players from all walks of life – and from as many countries as possible – to be part of our groundbreaking programme. There’ll be room for all kinds of people – medical professionals, horticulturalists, cooks, teachers and makers – though there are some restrictions, which you can find in the terms and conditions at lifeonnyx.com.’ Small smile. ‘Above all, we’re looking for dreamers: people with vision, people who don’t want an ordinary life.’
Cut to images of p
acked train carriages in various cities across the world. People walking along streets, their heads down.
‘We’re looking for people who want to be part of a real, self-sufficient community, the kind that seems increasingly less viable on Earth. The kind of harmonious, close-knit society that humans lived in for thousands of years, before technology took over.’
The music takes a darker turn and becomes an ominous drone.
‘I’ve been living on Nyx for four years now. From what I hear, life on Earth has become even more difficult than it already was. Here, there are no wars, no conflict, no climate change.’
The film cuts to a group of soldiers dressed in camouflage gear, holding guns, walking down a yellow, bombed-out street; then to a polar bear on an ice floe, surrounded by water.
‘There’ll be no internet. No cell phones. No more living your life through a screen.’
Images of people gazing blankly at various devices – on public transport, at their desks, at dinner tables.
‘No TV, no shopping, no processed food – in fact, all of our meals will be delicious, healthy and entirely vegan. There’ll be no celebrities. No more comparing yourself to people you’ve never met.’
Television sets, designer stores, a greasy pizza, a montage of social media platforms. Kim Kardashian and her sisters walking down a red carpet, smiling grimly.
‘There’ll be no salaries. No taxes. No distractions. Just friendship, community and genuinely interesting, useful work. It’ll be a chance to learn new skills and enjoy your free time in a positive, enriching way. There’ll be various activities, thousands of books available in our digital library and a great selection of music, chosen by our community.
‘My team and I have loved every moment of our time on Nyx. Personally speaking, I haven’t missed Earth at all. The planet is even more dazzling in real life than it is on screen. Truly, you’ve never seen anything like it. We’re so excited about building our community.’
Cut back to the landscape, the dunes, the moonless blue sky. The calming sssss of the wind.
‘Eventually we’re hoping to bring many hundreds of people up here, to build a genuine alternative to life on Earth. But this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to join the pioneers – the first Nyxians. It’s a one-way ticket to an incredible new planet. A chance to make a difference, to make history and to live a better life.’
Norman appears. He smiles and raises an eyebrow.
‘Are you ready?’
Fade to white.
The sourness rose from Iris’s throat to her mouth. She closed the laptop, kicked off the duvet, ran to the bathroom and vomited. Afterwards, crouched on the floor, breathing into the toilet, she realized she was still wearing the previous day’s clothes. There were chunks of puke in her long dark hair.
Shit, she thought. I’m late for work.
And what of Nyx, the baby girl named after that inferior pink planet? Maria Temple, the anthropologist, never returned to the Amazon, because she couldn’t find a good job in academia – not even with her Master’s, her PhD, her various postdoctorates and her brief viral fame. Finally, she received a job offer from a market research company, where anthropological skills were better remunerated. Some years later, another anthropologist visited the settlement where Nyx was born, but found it empty, abandoned, half covered by the quick, green jungle. No one knows what became of baby Nyx.
NYX
* * *
Seven Years Ago
1.
Everything Was New
‘Welcome, everyone; welcome to Nyx,’ said Norman into a microphone, over the hubbub of people entering the cafeteria, greeting each other. The room smelled clean and man-made, like a new pair of shoes. Norman was standing on a podium, wearing the same loose grey outfit as the other Nyxians, but looking a bit unreal, as celebrities often do, with his handsome face, silver hair and smooth, tanned skin that seemed incongruous for someone who had lived inside the Hub, away from the sun, for several years. Maybe it was natural – good genes and charisma. He waved and smiled, showing his straight white teeth.
Iris had recognized him immediately. Most people would. He had been the face of the Life on Nyx recruitment programme, the star of its online content. He had been denounced by politicians, journalists and scientists all over the world. A prominent astrophysicist had described him as ‘a modern-age pied piper, leading a hundred fantasists to their deaths’. Iris was star-struck.
‘Please take a seat,’ he said, ‘if you can find one, but I imagine that most of you are happy to stand, after your long trip from Earth.’
The audience tittered in agreement. Some of them stretched their stiff necks and limbs. They had spent most of the journey lying down, strapped to their beds for an entire week. There were a hundred of them, not counting the old-timers who had been on Nyx for several years. The new arrivals kept glancing at the walls where large black cameras hung, transmitting to Earth.
‘My name is Norman Best,’ he said, ‘and I’m the director of the Hub, your new home.’
Someone at the back whooped, then another, and then they all started clapping and shouting, a cheerful racket. Iris joined in. Her hair was still damp – she had just showered, with several other women, in Annex 2’s shining white bathroom. For the past hour or so, since arriving on Nyx, she had been smiling so hard that her jaw ached, but it was a good, blissful pain. The noise of the crowd bounced cleanly off the new walls. Everything was new: their home, their clothes, their white trainers, their electronic wristbands, their lives. They were new and Earth was old, and they would never see it again – thank God.
There was a touch of impatience in Norman’s frown, his pale eyes, his hands running through his hair, but he covered it with a smile as the clapping died down.
‘Thank you, thank you. I’m glad you’re excited! I am, too, and I can’t wait to get to know each and every one of you. My team is here for you. If you ever need anything, anything at all, you can send us a direct message through your tablets – which will be issued to you later today.’
There were a few excited whispers. The tablets would have no internet access, of course – and therefore no news, no emails, no podcasts, no photos of exes on their wedding days, no videos of puppies running in the snow, no think-pieces about modern love – but still, they were something to look forward to.
‘Soon you’ll be able to access our incredible e-book library and all of the music chosen by you.’
At the training camp in California, everyone had chosen one piece of music to take to Nyx. Iris had picked Frank Ocean’s ‘Pink + White’, a song she thought she might never tire of. Then again, it had only been in her life for a few years.
‘On your tablet you’ll soon receive more information about your various jobs and activities. If you’d like to run a class or a group, please do! We’re here to learn from each other. You’ll also be able to send messages to your fellow Nyxians, though this is quite a small place, so I don’t think you’ll be doing as much messaging as you did on Earth.’
Iris was standing at the back. She turned and smiled at her friends from Block G: Rav from Birmingham, Vitor from São Paulo and her roommate, Abby, from San Francisco. They smiled back. Abby’s brown, freckled skin gleamed with joy. In California, the group had developed a giddy bond, like new best friends at summer camp. Iris didn’t really know anyone else. They had been kept apart, so that viewers could watch them getting to know each other on Nyx. Everyone looked bright-eyed and attractive; they were from various countries, but most were American, and in their twenties and thirties, apart from a few of the old-timers, like Norman. There were no babies, no children, no old people, though that was bound to change. At some point they would age, they would procreate, they would spend the rest of their lives together.
‘This is an opportunity,’ said Norman, ‘to leave all that behind: the emails, the messages, the notifications, the constant communication with people you hardly know. Instead, you’re going to enjoy a closer conn
ection with the people and the world around you.’ He spread his arms. People looked around at each other, nodding and smiling hello. ‘Make no mistake: you are part of a great experiment, one of the greatest the world – no, the universe – has ever seen.’
Iris’s right hand went to her pocket. She was reaching, unconsciously, for her phone, but the pocket was empty, of course. She twisted the soft material with her fingers. Her phone was on Earth. It now belonged to a chambermaid in Los Angeles – someone she had never met. A panicky emptiness came over her, a distancing from reality. The kind she felt whenever she gave up smoking. After a few months, when the distraction of longing reduced itself to a faint hum, she would pronounce herself cured and ask someone for a cigarette. That couldn’t happen now.
‘This is history,’ said Norman, ‘happening right now.’ He pointed at the ground. ‘This! This moment. The first human colony on another planet. Did you imagine you would see that in your lifetime? And that you would be a part of it?’
She would succeed. She was free. No more cigarettes. No more scrolling. She smiled. This was good. The emptiness was good – a sign that a deeper, heavier emptiness would soon dissipate, for ever.
‘This is the culmination of a lifelong dream,’ said Norman. ‘Since I was a little boy, I’ve had my head in the stars. Most kids grow out of it, but I didn’t. And neither did you!’
Applause. More whooping. Norman had tears in his eyes. So did Iris. Her cheeks were burning, her whole body burned, hot and bright like a sparkler. Earth was watching. Now they know, she thought. Now they know why I came here.