Michael Siemsen: Exigency

Aether squinted at her. “You just opened your calendar.”

“Yeah, busted. But wow! You’re fifty-five!”

Aether’s speechless face rapidly morphed to a quivering stink-eye. “ Chron-age? How… dare … you!” She pushed Minnie’s shoulder back and climbed atop her, pinning Minnie’s wrists into the mattress. “You just violated rule number one, m’lady.”

“Well hello there, Ms. Sensitivity,” Minnie beamed, relishing the moment. “Shall we hack into the system and edit this inconsiderate birth year entry?”

“Not a bad idea, actually. Nineteen years in a metabed equates to around two years of physical aging, so… just subtract seventeen years from both of us.” Aether sat back, releasing Minnie’s wrists.

“Nah, I’m okay being forty-five. So much wisdom tied to that number. But man, oh, man, fifty- five ! Talk about wisdom.” Minnie sighed with mock reverence. “Verily, thine eyes hath beheld such wonders.”

Their gazes locked—a battle of penetrating stares that gradually devolved into juvenile face-making.

Aether finally gave in and flopped back down beside her. “So, what were you really stewing on?”

Can’t tell her about the probe…

“Oh, just wondering how many other teams were actually reading my research guides. I know I won’t receive feedback from the first installment for another couple years.”

“Well, we all think it’s brilliant. Everything you’ve published so far. And you know I’m not just saying that. Tom and Pablo, even as backups, absolutely incorporate your methods. I’m sure Ish, too.”

Minnie popped her eyebrows. “Ish? Seriously? You think she’d read a word of something I wrote?”

A note of disappointment in Aether’s face. “She looks up to you; it’s just hard for you to see past the wall she’s built up. But you can change that. I’ve always said you can change that.”

“You say the same thing about John.”

“And I mean it!” Aether said, sitting up. “You were thinking about him again, weren’t you?”

Oh jeez. Come on.

“I was so not… Can we not—”

Aether stroked Minnie’s arm. “I really think you need to get it out more. Talk to me more. Tell me what you dislike about him. Tell me what frustrates you. I’d rather do it here, with you, then have it rear up in the middle of group or assembly.”

Minnie sat up and faced her. “Listen. Really hear me right now. You see me thinking, or I’m frowning or something—chances are, I’m down there.” Minnie nodded out the window to the violet planet as it rolled by. “I’m not like I was eight months ago. I don’t think about him anymore. Honestly. Do you believe me?”

“Of course I believe you.”

“Thank you.”

They sat quietly, sharing a smile. Aether tilted her head a little. She was waiting. She was doing that psych thing where you just wait for the patient to say more. But it wasn’t going to work on Minnie. She was immune to such transparent tactics. Minnie would simply stare at all that exposed olive skin and wait it out, thinking other thoughts.

Minnie broke the silence. “You know he has thoughts, though—that he misses you.” Aether raised her eyebrows. “And I guarantee he has vids of you in his fone. Gross stuff. He could be watching them any time, you standing there right in front of him, and you’d have no idea he was overlaying the real you with some… some—”

Aether blinked, stunned. “He’s not like that.”

“Of course not.”

The soft monotone of an impending announcement sounded in Minnie’s ear. She could see Aether got it too.

Qin’s voice spoke in their ears. “Supply pod on final approach.”

Minnie frowned. “Has it been six months? What day is it?”

Aether smirked and crawled out of bed, grabbing clothes from the closet. “It’s the fourth. Two days from my birthday, ahem, ahem . Time flies, right?” She dressed and pulled on her runners. “I’m just going to check on them; make sure everything’s good, okay? He’s showing Ish how to run final approach. We’ll resume this vid business when I get back.”

“No, please, I’m done talking. Disregard everything I just said. Seriously. Just hurry back, you.”

Aether stroked Minnie’s sandy hair, the way Minnie liked, the way her father used to, and then left the room.

Lying back, Minnie scolded herself once more for letting the crap in her head come out of her mouth. Even if asked directly, she needed to lie. And why couldn’t Aether ask about something else? Ask her about the Threck and Minnie would blab her ear off for hours! Ask her more about Ish! That was actually kind of eye-opening for a second. Maybe Ish’s standoffishness was a direct result of Minnie’s reactions to Ish’s standoffishness. Maybe if Minnie was nicer, Ish would relax and act somewhat normal. Hell, violate policy and ask her about food .

Minnie felt a sudden wave of ghost hunger and clutched her belly skin. She felt around the sheets and under her pillow, finding the chewstick beneath. Back in her mouth it went. She considered opening her game to sneak a virtual snack. It was strictly forbidden, of course, but Qin had showed her how to trick the system into presenting food. It even activated scent receptors.

But no good would come of it. She had to think like a recovering alcoholic. The just-a-little-sip mentality was highly destructive.

Like the eight other individuals on the station and the dozens of others sent to distant planets on similar missions, she hadn’t consumed a solid for almost 27 years. Meds in the water shut down the majority of the digestive process, nutrients and calories supplied by supplements also infused in the water. It was the most extreme part of training and transition on Earth, and it wasn’t optional. Quite simply, there existed no practical way to feed a team of 8-12 people on an orbiter, light years from home, for the rest of their lives.

Even though the meds blocked the processes and signals that led to hunger sensations, it was difficult to comprehend the psychological impacts of food, the social importance of eating. The teams still gathered twice daily for this very reason. “Assembly” remained one of the few mandatory entries in everyone’s calendars, despite the fact that they drank from their canteens throughout the day. You sat around a table, drank your water, socialized. Many of them munched on chewsticks. There was nothing to swallow, but they kept the teeth and gums healthy, and satisfied latent oral fixations. Some avoided chewsticks as they only reminded them of what they couldn’t have, preferring to utilize them as any other hygiene tool before bed.

In training, everyone had been put on the meds right away, meals tapered and cut off two weeks in. Many brilliant, high-potential candidates dropped out at that stage, dreams shattered over food. Others washed out for the sudden stark reality of a one-way trip. They’d thought they could handle leaving home forever: sever ties, say good-bye. But when it came down to it, a truly unique psyche was required to accept that daunting future and consistently remain on task.

Even though she was close with her father, Minnie had always been fine with leaving him, and likewise, he with her. He’d said he wished they could both go off to different ends of the Orion Spur, each knowing the other was fulfilling their greatest dreams. But he was too old for the program, and so they’d spoken their tearless, ecstatic goodbyes when he dropped her off at the training center. She was 16. As the weeks passed, she found herself only vaguely troubled by the realization of what she missed most about her father: the way he’d stroke her hair until she fell asleep.