Author's Note: I generally do not write this type of fiction, however I thought I would do myself good to experiment a little more with the literary/realistic side of things to improve my range. So, please be extra harsh! However I did choose to stick with a general SF setting, so I hope that element is clear (and contributes to the plot) as well. Note that I am already working on a much longer, violent, SF heavy version that is much more plot based, with the same characters and similar themes. I plan on releasing that is short segments, but I am still developing it so nothing is definite. If you have any ideas on how you would like to see that happen, and things you would like to see happen, let me know, as I still am a ways away from writing it and would appreciate any input!
***
Every
so often, my thoughts wander to memories of Earth, and memories of
Kate. I get to thinking about life in Tokyo, and how in the end, the two of us
left it behind, in one way or another. I think about the night that
she told me it was time for her to go, how that living room looked, still and silent, and the days
that followed, wandering aimlessly until I finally remembered home,
and looked up to the stars in the sky.
Facing
the idea that I was so suddenly alone was a hard thing to recognize
back then, in the moment when it happened. Kate came home later
than usual, around midnight, her hair wet and her clothing drenched
in rain. I was curled on the couch, my eyes still glued to the
television. All of the lights were off, and they were running a
mildly interesting piece on the news about the 15th anniversary of an electronic
music festival taking place in Toronto. Not really an interest of mine,
but we always waited till the other got back from work, so I was trying to pass the time.
Of course when
I think about it now, maybe I remember it differently, maybe my mind
has run over it far too many times, over so many years, for what me remember everything perfectly. Maybe I have warped it, but still I can recall the essence of these moments- like the defining, timeless frames that are the heart of a film- how she
shut the door behind her with a somewhat forceful slam, and
set her bag and coat out on the table by the door, then strode across
the room to the other end, where out kitchenette was.
The lights above
the kitchen table flickered on without being asked as she sat on one of
the stools, facing in my direction. Kate was silent, motionless, as if pleading that I be the
first to speak. I remember her looking especially beautiful, in that moment, how the lights from above reflected off her still water covered skin, illuminating her face in a way that made it almost impossible to look away from.
“Long
day at work, it looks like?” I said, muting the television and
walking over to the table. “It must have been something important for them to have kept you till now. Was it the the review for the SerpentV6 launch procedures?" I waited a beat, then a couple more, but she said nothing, just staring at me, impassive. "Unless, of course, you
were out with that boyfriend, or something.”
I grinned lewdly, because I knew that when not talking about the rockets, which we both could only tolerate so much of, rude references to her mysterious sex life would most likely get her attention. "Am I right, or what?"
“No,
not that,” she said, looking away from me. “It's Warren.”
“Warren?”
I said cautiously, knowing that she was upset. “Your father,
right?”
She
nodded her head. She almost said something right then, but her voice
cracked, and she burst into tears. She didn’t have to tell me anything more in that moment, and so for a few minutes I just let her cry, while I microwaved a meal for her.
I guessed the worst, and I was proven right, she was moving back, to be there for
who knows how long. Her father was finally sick enough that there was no way that she could not be there for the final months.
And I wanted desperately to believe
that she would be back, but by that time I was old enough to know she
would not.
And
the week after, I stood in the center of that apartment, at that same
time, a little after midnight, in shock, just listening to the rain
collide against the earth, and the city beep and honk.
I
try to remember Kate and the tall white rockets, shiny with rain, and
the life we shared, and it comes back to that moment, in that empty
room.
It
was the room where we ate our meals together, with a kitchen that had
a pantry and a stove and a fridge. The two of us would sit around
that table for hours, talking or watching the TV screen that was
fixed into the wall.
It
was where we put all our clothing, where we changed, and where we
slept, in the reclining chairs or on the couch. This is where
everything between the two of us happened for those few years. It was
where we read our books and our magazines, complained about how hard
we had it or how great it really was, where we played video games
late into the night.
The
memories can be distilled there, but I distinctly recall how none of
it seemed to be left, as if all of it had vanished the moment she was
gone for good. It was as if the illusion that our young lives abroad
had created, ignoring our families and crashing on couches and
drinking, suddenly ceased to be. The sensation that nothing was
there, when the apartment was truly silent, was when I knew that
things were finally falling apart.
***
I
had left for Tokyo 5 year prior, when I was so frustrated with where
my life was going that I saw no choice but to leave my hometown of
Seattle. I had this idea in my mind that all I really needed was a
dream to chase.
That
was what I began to tell myself, as I struggled day after day with
the everyday things in my life, as I began to see them lose their
meaning.
They
said what I needed was to get a boyfriend, but the last thing I was
looking for was another person, at that point. The other popular
recommendation was that I find a real, stable job, but anything I
tried out had no meaning tied to it. I had never had the chance to
see what a real job was. The way I was raised, I just saw what my
parents did as what you were meant to do when you got kicked out of
the house.
None
of the things I did had much of a purpose, nothing in Seattle
anyways. So I made up my mind when I was entirely alone and bored out
of my mind that I would leave the city for somewhere completely new,
to do something I had the courage to do.
In
the back of my mind, I knew I would realize I had made a mistake in
at some point, and that I would come around and my family would
welcome me back with open arms and poorly concealed, smug smiles,
knowing that this was meant to be, that their little girl was finally
growing up and getting herself together, that she was realizing her
place in the world, and the role she had to play. It was a simple
thing to tell myself and to believe. That was what I thought as I
bought my ticket and packed my bags. I told myself I could always
come back.
What I never thought about was
all that would happen along the way, from the day that I left to the
day that I finally set foot in Seattle, all that would happen through
those years on the other side of the world.
None
of us, my parent, my brother, especially not myself, could foresee
how long that moment of homecoming would have to wait to happen, and
the price we all had to pay for it. It sounded easy in the back of my
head, like a place that I would get to at some point, after following
a set course that had long been decided. I told myself I would come
around soon enough, I just needed take some time to grow up a little.
The
fact that I never really came home in truth is what nobody could
predict, because even as I stood there, back home again, my dreams of
Kate and Mars had taken me too far away to ever be really back.
***
It
was a silent morning when I left, or so it seemed. Probably loud,
like any moment in a airport, but I could hear nothing, I was so
caught up in myself, caught up worrying and fantasizing at the same
time.
While
I waited for that flight, with that black suitcase and backpack, I
had no idea what was gong to happen next, and that in itself was
something new. I had only been hired for 2 months of minimal pay at
that point, a sort of test run of the job, but I was just excited
that I finally was going to have to make it on my own. I wondered
what I would learn about myself and about the world, what another
country would be like.
Back
then I had something of a fascination with Japan, because it always
seemed like it held the lost, almost unattainable part of me. I am
only 1/8th
Japanese, but for that very reason Japan was all the more fascinating
because it was a represented something I still did not know about
myself. I knew who I was in the States, I had known that for a while,
but who could I be in another part of the world? I wanted to meet a
whole new facet of myself there, a new Hanna Morris.
The dream that I was chasing,
what gave me the courage to go across the world in the first place,
was more than just discovering a part of my lost heritage. It was to
see history in the making, and be part of it.
2059,
was the year when I left, and that was the year that Orbital
Enterprises went global and opened to world’s largest spaceport
in Tokyo. It was a monstrosity of a thing, able to launch up to 23
rockets and 6 space planes a day when it first opened, and by now the
numbers have doubled and tripled far beyond my counting.
It
was running rockets and orbital planes at a little over the cost of a
commercial jet, and suddenly, everybody wanted in. The idea that you
could make thousand of flights a year, from just one location, was
very appealing to the people with the money to take advantage of it,
and things took off in a way that nobody saw coming.
With
that, they needed an unprecedented amount of workers to do the
everyday jobs, and so I took the risk. This was the dream, the goal
that I was chasing, something that would lead me somewhere. Perhaps
space, at some point, but right then I just wanted something new.
Where it all led me I figured I would find out later. I applied for a
basic internship, flew over, and in the end hired me full time. At
that point Orbital was smaller, compared to their current size, but
they were caught in the middle of the explosive genesis of an
entirely new economy based around their rocket system, and somebody
had to do the dirty work for them.
That
meant hours driving fuel and supplies from checkpoint to checkpoint,
cleaning off launch pads and runways in a constant cycle. It was
grueling, labor intensive, but we were all caught up in something
new, something big. They hired a couple hundred of us in that year,
and Kate and I were some of the first ones there, both of us eager to
be on the forefront of something that seemed full of endless
potential. Everyone had the same sense of optimism at the time, when
we all were anticipating where those rockets and space planes might
possibly lead the world, and where they might take us.
They
were monolithic, some of them tens of stories high, and every time we
saw them break gravity in a flash of light and vanish into the sky,
they forced you to imagine all of the possibilities, and you dreamed
about what it would be like if you were inside.
It was a sort of illusion, a
mental trick to me, to everyone in some way, I suppose. Just seeing
it up close, flying away from the earth and your problems, you
couldn’t help but feel that it was you going away as well. That
was what haunted every one of us when we looked at these pillars of
fire, lines in the sky, and so it became something that in the back
of your mind would always find you.
I
would catch myself imagining of glorious rockets the size of 20 story
buildings, pure white and symmetrical, so massive it seemed that it
never could quite fit entirely into your vision. They would always be
there, just out of my grasp, even though I could touch them every day
if I desired.
It
was the money and the consequences involved in such of life defining
trip that stopped me. Even with thousands of vehicles going into
orbit every year by now, the price for a crewed flight was still
expensive for anyone without an above average income, especially with
the money I was being given. We all had life savings at Orbital, a 20
year plan for the lowest earning worker, less time the more you moved
up. It culminated in 2 tickets to the companies’ fledging Mars
colony of New Pacifica, or 4 tickets for to orbit. It was retirement,
in a sense. You never came back.
It
was painful, being in front of all of this for 12 hours every day,
touching them and helping lift them into the heavens, all the while
anchored to the ground.
***
The
way that we first met was not entirely prophetic, or romantic, just
lucky. The two of us only happened to arrive on the same day at the
airport, and by chance we sat next to each other during the
orientation session. I didn’t think much of it then, I just
remembered the face and the few brief words we exchanged at some
point, but I did remember her when we were assigned to the same group
for our internship.
We
hardly talked all that time. Those were 8 weeks I hardly remember at
all, we barely got a break at all, and the whole time we kept moving, never having the time to talk. Near the end, I
was positive my prediction would be fulfilled, that I would come back
to where I started, in Seattle, and all I would have to admit that I was the fool, to have the arrogance to run off on my own.
It
was the fact that I worked up the courage to talk to her near the end
of my stay that changed the course of things. It was a cold, soft
morning, one we were given off, and 10 of us were walking between
launch sites, going over to see a large Serpent rocket have it's weekly
launch to one of the new mining ships in orbital assembly.
I wanted
to see something like it for myself before I left for home, and a lot
of the newer people had been talking of going, so I tagged along,
even though I didn’t know most of them all that well, past their names and
their faces.
The
silence that the few of us had been sharing since the beginning of
the walk had been at first been comfortable, but at this point was
wearing thin, and making things rather awkward. Then I saw her,
walking right next to me in gym shorts and a grey hoodie with the purple and red Orbital
logo plastered on the front. She had a baseball cap and sunglasses
concealing most of her face, but I still remembered who she was, and
so I struck up a conversation, just curious to get to know some of
these people a little better before I left.
I
was pretty sure that I would leave, at that point. There had been a
novelty to living in a small dorm and being in a new place, but there seemed like no reason to
stay, and in a way I was already missing Seattle and how simple
things were back home. Maybe it sounds like a weird thing to say,
given how bad things were for me, but I really was ready to leave. I had lost sight of things, and then we got talking.
“So,
where are you planning to stay?” were her first words to me,
after I had introduced myself as Hannah, and she had introduced herself as Kate.
“Planning
to stay?”
“Yes,”
she said, enthusiastically, “where are you going to stay once
your internship ends, and you have to find an apartment?”
The
question caught me off guard, because I had no answer for her at the
top of my head, so I simply directed the question back at her, and
that’s how I got to hearing her story.
By
the time that the Serpent was upright and facing the sky, she had
finished.
I’m
not going to say I was in love or something like that right at that moment, because I wasn’t. But when she said she needed
someone to room with, I was seriously considering it. She was so passionate about it all, especially about the future, and where she might go, that I couldn't help but be drawn into her excitement.
We stopped
our conversation for a moment and just then the rocket lifted into
the sky, and we watched in awe as it climbed to the stars, lifted by the most mesmerizing flame.
Tokyo
changed then, as I saw that this be beautiful, unearthly thing taking
flight, and then I saw dismal, dirty Seattle, and my parents and my
brother whom by then I hardly knew, and it was then that I saw what I
would be able to do if I just took one more risk. Sure enough, a few weeks later I was moving into
a two-person apartment owned by Orbital with Kate, determined to make
my way in the world.
***
Those
next few years were a blur of constant movement, out of that
apartment and in. So many of us came and went, and we
watched rocket after rocket ascend, and all the while the spaceport
increased in size, and we stayed put.
Every time, it came back to Kate and I, in that
apartment, just the two of us, no matter who else passed in and out.
It became such a pattern, such a truth, that it began to feel like it would always have to be that way. We would sit in different chairs to read, the same couch to watch TV,
and it was as if during that time the world stopped turning.
It
became second nature to be able to deny that other things were going
on in Seattle, Chicago, words that had almost lost their meaning,
things that most likely involved my family, and people I used to know.
I had forgotten so much about all those people, and when I remembered
them, each and every time, it became harder and harder to call them,
and so it became easier to shut the idea out. I came back once or
twice, emailed back and forth when something big happened, like Dave
getting married, but such a long distance and lifestyle would make it hard for even
the closest of families to stay together. We were not a very close family.
Live
at the spaceport had a certain quality to it that made the outside
world obsolete, in a way. It was monotonous, in a sense, because you
went to work at the same time and generally did the same things. Yet,
there was also something very dynamic about it that kept on drawing
me in. New rockets, new projects, new places to go, and it was all in
a vibrant city that was an adventure in itself.
Kate
was there for all of it, and even though I never got the chance to
tell her it in all that time in the ways I would want to have told
her, looking her in the eyes, she was what grounded me; she was what
made me stay. I know all this now, but it was in no way clear to me
then, and I only saw what she was to me far to late.
Describing
my feelings towards her then, right up until the moment she left, is
something that does not come easily, because many people never really
understand it. Before her, I would have never known that I was attracted
to women in that way. It was maybe our third or second year living
together, when some of the excitement and the intensity had died
down, and we finally had a chance to look around. We finally started
to grow separate in subtle and noticeable ways, all the while living the in same house, and that was when I realized whey she had always kept my attention is such a way.
In the back of my mind I began to call her my partner, but how could I tell her that when we had
simply been the closest of friends for so long?
So I waited, while
she got her boyfriend, while family seemed to get more important, and
there I was, one night, all of the sudden alone in a silent
apartment. I opened the door, walked out side and breathed in the
dirty air and the noise. I called her the next day, and the next,
until I finally could realize how it really was, how the last 5 years had
been, what the decisions I had made back then really made, until I
finally realized how blind I had been.
I
visited home, just to make sure. I talked to Dave and met his kids,
had dinner with Mom and Dad and promised I would be back.
I
went back. I decided to keep in touch more, I went more back more
than ten times in the next few years, probably. Except I didn’t. And when
the day came, to go forever, I packed my bags and had my last meal in
Tokyo, in that noodle shop where the two of us used to go all the time. Then I
was off, in a rocket, just like I always said I would be, just like Kate always said we would.
***
Thanks for reading this melodramatic train wreck that hope nobody who knows me irl ever reads, and stay tuned for the actual SF action/adventure reboot that is in the works! This will have explosions and people being thrown out of airlocks, I promise! This will not be told in a never ending first-person monologue in the past tense! This will also feature characters that are *slightly* more proactive about doing stuff, whether that be getting laid, or handling firearms!
(Plus there may also be a *bit* of kissing, because lets be real here, this one really did not have nearly enough!)
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