by Nōnen Títi
Kaspi touched her face. “I know that. You never showed what went on in your head, but I knew anyway.”
Jema kissed her.
“You didn’t visit your mom anymore,” Kaspi said later.
“She wouldn’t understand. She’d spend the whole time asking me to change my mind. Besides, I needed to save my points.”
“I thought you said you had enough to get to Minaguia?’
Jema squeezed herself onto the orange chair behind Kaspi. She leaned her legs on the arms to work Kaspi’s long hair into a braid. “I need to come back though, one more time. I want to bring you to the clinic when you leave.”
Kaspi took a long time to respond. “Are you sure? You need to concentrate on the journey now.”
“I’m sure.”
The rest of the day was like that; a few words here and there. Nothing left to do, but when evening came she didn’t want to leave. She let Kaspi hug her. “I’ll be back that day. I promise.”
She didn’t find the piece of paper, which Kaspi must have put into her pocket, until she was already home. The handwriting was unsteady.
Dear Jema. I am no good at writing poems, but I wanted you to have something to keep:
People reach out but others don’t see
People cry privately, nobody hears
People stay hopeful but always in vain
People suffer in silence their pain.
To some, feelings are private, for no one to know
To others they’re shareware, expressing they care
For all it is different; it matters not how
What counts is to have them, kept inside or spoken out.
Go to Kun DJar. Be happy and live long. Don’t forget me. Love you forever, Kaspi.
Jema quickly folded the paper away when she heard Kityag come into the room.
“Hey, you’re back. Did you get third moon off so we can go north?” he asked, giving her a kiss.
“Yes, I did get it off.” It would be easier if he wasn’t such a nice person.
“Great, so did I. We’ll have a good time together. How about a drink?”
She smiled as she poured the wine.
He was still sleeping when she left in the morning. She had with her only what was of value as a memory and some vital necessities. She’d sent Giti a message earlier saying sorry that she couldn’t come to the city anymore and to tell Mom goodbye. It was right this way. She was leaving her past behind; no need for pretences.
She walked to the depot and took a one-way trip to Minaguia. The town was still sleeping — all but one.
From Minaguia she and two other newcomers were picked up by a man called Remko in an electrovan. The space base looked as if it belonged in the past: a great number of tents and some metal sheds in the middle of empty grassland. No matter which direction Jema looked there was nothing except the riser platform way in the distance. To the side of the tents stood a gigantic shed in which the users would be housed when they arrived. Big floodlights created the illumination the daylight of Station Six couldn’t offer.
“What doesn’t fit in there doesn’t go,” Remko said pointing to the lightweight chest next to the mat Jema had been assigned. The mat was in a tent with another seven currently empty mats.
During the day Jema was introduced to some others. Here she could talk about the journey openly. She was assigned to help a nervous young man with the administration in the office. The office was also just a metal shed, but it had wave-connections and a piko-processor. All records to go onto the kabin, however, were to be on paper. Harmon explained how she was to sort the user files from one box, separate their medical forms and record their work experiences before putting them in weatherproof covers. What the use of that last addition would be on a spacekabin was beyond Jema. She pulled the three boxes into a corner and went to work. It wasn’t a hard job, but with half a mas of users it was no small job either. Behind her, Harmon’s own work was interrupted with calls almost non-stop. It was definitely different.
She went to bed that night alone in the big tent. By now Kityag must have noticed she’d not gone to work. She had left him a note in the empty wardrobe: I’m sorry, but my life isn’t worth living without a child to raise, so I’m leaving. I cared for you once, but I believe you’ll be better off with someone who sees life as just a game. I cannot do that. Don’t try to find me. Jema.
It was the silliest goodbye note, but it suited this strange departure. From now on she’d be afraid he’d turn up here and make a scene. She fell asleep too tired to think about it for long.
It took three days to get through the user files. She tried not to read the words when she scanned for the details she needed to take down. The first day she’d ended up feeling angry; most of these people didn’t appear to be criminals any more than anybody else she knew. She’d been especially taken by the report of a young doctor who’d been made a user because of the death of a child in her care.
The filing went a lot faster without the reading. There were plenty of other jobs to do as well. She began to get used to Harmon’s frantic ways. At the end of the first moon she caught herself ignoring his nerves as she had seen Remko do the day she arrived. More people were here now. She shared the tent with seven others. All were nice company.
The day of Kaspi’s leaving Jema rode with Remko to the depot. He drove up and down regularly to collect new people. It wasn’t a problem. “Just call me when you’re ready to be picked up.”
It was dark. It would hardly get light. She took a round-trip pass to Greguia. There was no avoiding the risk that this would show up on Kityag’s points’ statement. It was still morning when she arrived. Kaspi seemed bright, almost cheerful. She was wearing her favourite dress.
Jema hugged Tisji and Lusji. It had been so long and the circumstances made them feel like strangers. Kaspi’s home felt empty even with all the extra people. The three grandchildren, too young to understand, ran around laughing. The adults didn’t speak much, each burdened with a stone of their own to weigh them down.
Lusji was the most uncomfortable. She still had a long ride home and left shortly after Jema’s arrival. She embraced her mother, kissed and promised, while Jema made herself scarce in the backroom.
Tisji openly admitted she was glad not to have to bring Kaspi to the clinic. They all had a drink together, talked about biology on DJar and on Kun DJar and even had a laugh about something remembered from the past. Then Tisji gave Kaspi her hugs and goodbyes, tears running down her face. Kaspi too, had trouble when she gave her granddaughter a last cuddle.
Jema left with Kaspi early in the afternoon. There was nothing to pack. Kaspi had given away all she could. What was left was a home which would soon be assigned to somebody else.
“It’s so strange to think that I’ll never see them again. That tomorrow will not be a new day for me.”
Jema walked alongside her. What could she say to that?
Kaspi put an arm around her. It should have been the other way around. “I’m ready, you know. I’ve had a good life.”
They arrived at the clinic two minutes before the appointed time. Just like Kaspi to get that right.
Welcome to Greguia’s medical centre was written on the fence. The clinic’s sickly complexion glared down at them; a headmaster calling in a pupil for her final expulsion. Kaspi climbed the steps. She stopped to look back into the street for a moment. Then she smiled at Jema and entered the door.
It smelled of clinic; that hospitable stench of disinfectants. Kaspi did the talking. She registered at the desk and let the girl scan her arm. What for? Were they afraid somebody else would accidentally volunteer to be here?
“Just sit in the waiting area. Somebody will be with you in a minute.”
Jema wondered how the girl dared smile.
The wait was short. “How are we today?” asked the nurse who was to take them down the corridor.
“We are today,” Jema answered. “We won’t be tomorrow.”
She fel
t Kaspi’s hand poke her in the back while their steps echoed from the empty walls. They were shown into a small room: white walls, white chair, white bed sheet — only one. A lamp brighter than Bijar hung just above the bed in the centre. A little trolley with its contents covered by a cloth stood in the corner. It was cold. “Just lie down,” the nurse said.
“I’m not sick,” Kaspi defiantly told her.
The nurse turned red and left.
Despite winking cheekily, the emotion in Kaspi’s voice was evident, yet restrained because it wasn’t the fault of these people either. “They only work here,” she said.
But could a tyrant exist if he had no soldiers willing to do the dirty work for him?
“So did you find my literary attempt?” Kaspi asked while checking out the secrets of the trolley.
“It was beautiful. Don’t go telling people you can’t write—” Jema bit her lip.
“It’s all right. I did that myself this morning.”
The nurse came back with a tray of drinks and biscuits. Jema felt sick looking at them, but Kaspi started eating one.
It was quiet.
“Did you know that Kun DJar has more gravity than DJar? You’ll be dragging your body around as if it’s made of lead,” Kaspi said and laughed at the image.
Jema tried to smile back.
“So did you hear from Kityag?”
“Nothing. I wonder if he’s figured it out by now.”
“He may. He came to my home last moon. He asked if I knew where you’d gone. I told him I hadn’t heard from you either.”
“He’ll have called Mom and she’ll have told him.”
The door opened. The same nurse came in again, followed by a doctor. He was tall and wore a white overcoat and pants with some instruments sticking out of his pockets: status symbols. Seeing his age, he would have been better off in diapers. Did they let them practice first on those who didn’t matter anymore?
“Please wait outside,” he told Jema.
“But—”
“You’ll get time to say goodbye in a few minutes.”
After a nod from Kaspi, Jema complied and sat down on a bench in the hallway, shivering. An old man walked by followed by a younger man who looked like him, their faces grey and emotionless. They disappeared into the next room.
A few moments later Kaspi’s door opened. “You have half an hour,” the toneless voice said. The nurse rolled the trolley out behind him.
Kaspi was now sitting on the bed and had a tube in her arm connected to a bag of fluid. “How anyone can work a job like this I’ll never understand,” she said.
Jema nodded. Kaspi never would. She glanced at the timedisk. “It’s cold in here.”
“I’m actually very hot,” Kaspi answered.
Silence.
“It’ll soon be a lot colder,” Kaspi restarted.
“Yes, it will.”
“Not where you’re going though.”
“It may be even colder there,” Jema said.
“Yes it may. Can you give me a drink? I’m thirsty.”
Jema handed her the drink. Kaspi’s lips trembled. “What a waste of resources,” she said, pointing at the drip. “Funny how much waste you notice when you’re living on borrowed time.”
If only she would stop trying to make conversation. Nothing was funny about this; the word itself was a crime.
“I love you, Jema. You’re as dear to me as my children are. You always have been.”
Kaspi was trying so hard to sound cheerful. Jema wanted to answer; wanted to say that Kaspi had been her best friend, but the words didn’t come.
The disk kept flashing.
Kaspi held out her hand.
Jema took it.
The door opened before the half an hour was up. The diaper was back. “You can go now. Just wait in the lobby. I’ll have you sign out shortly,” he said to Jema, ignoring Kaspi altogether.
Jema stood up. “I’m staying with her.”
He started shaking his head. “That’s against regulations.”
She took a step toward him to keep him from reaching the bed. “Oh yeah? And what do regulations say about the points you get for working in an abattoir? Do you live only on fresh meat or does carrion pay better?”
A flush of red travelled over his spotless baby face. The needle in the metal tray he was holding started to rattle. He quickly moved to the other side of the bed when Jema threatened to take another step. “If you insist.”
Jema insisted. She turned and sat down next to Kaspi on the bed. Kaspi should have berated her for this but she didn’t. “Goodbye, Jema. Live well. I hope Kun DJar is as beautiful as they say it will be.”
Jema leaned over to give her a hug. Kaspi only briefly kissed her back.
The infant, his hands trembling, proceeded to insert the syringe into the tube and pushed the plunger until it was empty. He didn’t look at either of them when he turned the drop counter on full.
“Oh, that’s cold.” Kaspi squeezed Jema’s hand. “I can feel myself going to sleep,” she said a moment later. Her voice trailed off. Her brown eyes were wide open, but she wasn’t seeing. Her breathing became heavy and noisy, as if a growling animal — in synchronization with the movement of her breasts — was about to burst out.
It went too quickly. Jema should say something. Thank her for always being there. Something to let her know… but she only watched Kaspi’s eyes turn away and her colour go from pale to blue-grey. The noisy breathing slowed down and then stopped. Only once her own chest started hurting did Jema suck in some of the deadly air from the room.
The baby doctor moved in to listen to Kaspi’s chest and then closed her eyes. Jema had to squeeze her lips tight to stop herself from telling him to keep his vile hands off her.
“Okay, that’s it. I’m sorry,” he said.
She made sure her eyes met his.
In a rush to turn away from them he dropped his stethoscope on the floor and blushed.
The biscuits still sat at Kaspi’s side. Kaspi’s mouth was open a little. Pale and quiet but she was still Kaspi. At any moment she could sit up and say something… Only she wouldn’t.
He opened the door. “If you will sign out at the desk.” His face was once again the colour of those he lived off.
After one more glance Jema stepped through the door. There were echoes in the hall. She went to the desk, signed the name of Geveler’s president in the space they pointed to and looked at the doctor once more. “If you hurry your meal will still be warm.”
A minute later she stood in the street, alone, the half-light of the winter’s day trying to warm her cold insides. “You won’t be able to,” she told it.
Out of habit she walked the familiar streets back to the transport depot. She no longer cared about people recognizing her. Her stomach grumbled but she couldn’t think about food. She woudn’t be the only one. The stone, Kaspi’s stone, accompanied her on the way back in the airfloat. At the Minaguia depot she rang the base. She didn’t sit down. The van pulled up half an hour later. Remko didn’t speak during the ride. The floodlights on the base were visible from a distance, a puddle of life in a desolate land, when Remko stopped just before the turn-off to the dirt road that led to the base and pointed to a little bar.
“Transition point,” he said. “A last drink to the people we did care about before we leave this planet forever?”
She accepted his offer. The bar was narrow, dark and quiet, like Remko. The warm wine he ordered did loosen the stone a bit. She only took sips, aware that she hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning.
“You have to let me know when you’re ready to drive into the future. I’m in no hurry.”
That was the only thing Remko said all the time they sat there. Jema took two more sips; one for Nori and the last one for Kaspi. “I’m ready.”
For the last eight minutes the van hobbled over the rocky path toward a new life. Jema went to the office to finish the work she’d left yesterday. Nobody asked where she’
d been. Remko must have warned them.
Over the next few days the stone made space for a bit of food and air. Sometimes she didn’t feel it at all until she let her thoughts drift away from her work. Above them, Agjar shone brightly. SJilai was out there somewhere — invisible, in orbit, awaiting the travellers, anxious to be launched towards Kun. It would take more than a mas of people along, each with their own reasons, their own fears or despair to drive them to a journey into the absolute unknown.
Every citizen of DJar was a loser in the end; the end that read ‘Life’. These people wanted to be winners, wanted to be more than a number. Jema GS4K0W no longer existed. Here, for the first time, she found people like her, all going to a place where a DJar would never happen again.
She’d done it, done it for Kaspi. She’d left Kityag and found a new destiny. The kabin name might be very appropriate. Its fate would be theirs, but it would float while DJar destroyed itself. It would leave orbit in just two moons, bringing its ken to safety, Jema among them. She was desperate to go. She would carry Kaspi’s stone inside her forever. Her life wasn’t over yet. Across space lay the planet that would be their new home, serene and untouched: Kun DJar.
