SL Huang - Up and Coming - Stories by the 2016 Campbell-Eligible Authors

Inside the empty house, Vivian sat in the dining room and stared out the window. Out of habit, she swiped the screen on her tablet. Pages of data sped past, unseen by the scientist.

Looking skyward, she imagined the birds that used to fly by. The bird feeder in her backyard was completely hidden, overgrown with ivy. The Event hadn’t affected plants. They continued their cycle of life and death, taunting Vivian.

After a while, Jenna came home from walking Tujin and came over to her mother, who was still sitting motionless next to the window.

“What’s wrong, Mom?”

No response.

“Mom?”

Vivian turned to Jenna, not bothering to smile. She placed her tablet on the table as she stared at her daughter. They looked at each other for a few moments, neither of them wanting to break eye contact.

“I quit. I can’t keep going back to the lab to fail. I’m tired, Jenna.”

Jenna was silent for a minute. Then she sat at her mother’s feet and placed her head on Vivian’s lap.

“It’s okay, Mom. You tried. You tried for so long. Please don’t be sad.”

Tujin walked over to them, barking for attention. His timing was perfect, and they both burst into giggles. Jenna scratched Tujin’s head, and it became obvious to Vivian that she wanted to say something.

Finally, she said, “I saw Nana yesterday.”

“You visited her without me? Have you done that before?” Vivian was surprised.

“Mom, I may look like a little girl, but I’m a hundred and three years old. I can find my way to her place no problem.”

“I know, I just…I didn’t know you visited her on your own. I’m happy you did. Or do. How often do you see her?”

“I try to go once a week and read to her. She seems to enjoy it, or at least I think she does. I hope she does.”

Vivian decided it was time for her to see her mother. Once a month wasn’t enough. She’d let her work get in the way of being a good daughter—of doing what needed to be done. Determined to make more changes in her life, Vivian planned what to do next. There were things to take care of before she could visit her mother.

She needed to stop by her lab.

Back on the subway, Vivian stopped fighting her tears. She let the frustration of the last few decades slide down her face. Not sure how Jenna would feel about what she planned, she waited impatiently for her stop. As soon as the doors opened she walked out of the station and headed to her lab to prepare.

Knowing her mother wasn’t the only person in the world who was suffering renewed Vivian’s desire to continue with her work. It might take years before anyone came up with a solution, but she couldn’t stop. Jenna needed to know what it was like to physically become an adult, have a family, and watch her hair go gray.

With that knowledge came the realization that she couldn’t let her mother suffer any longer. She sent emails informing her superiors of her decision to go on with her research.

Then she walked to the supply closet and took what she needed for tomorrow’s visit to the Eternal Sunshine Care Facility.

Vivian and Jenna walked through the doors of the care home. Checking in at the nurses’ station, Vivian nodded at the staff and inquired about her mother.

“No change, Dr. Toujours.”

“We want to have a nice long visit with her. Would you please tell her aide not to disturb us? I know she’ll miss her show today, but that’s okay. Just don’t come into her room. We’d like some private time with her.”

The walk to the end of the hall gave Vivian time to think about her mother. The majority of her memories were happy. Stopping outside Room 42, she paused. Breathing in deeply, she knocked, then entered.

As she approached the bed, Vivian looked into her mother’s watery eyes, attempting to see into her mind. She touched her hand, stroking the top of it as she smiled, but got no response. Vivian leaned in to kiss her mother’s forehead, lingering a moment to remember the woman who no longer existed.

Jenna hung back, unable to approach her nana yet.

“Jenna tells me you like it when she reads to you. I never knew she visited you without me. I’ve been so distracted with my work, I didn’t notice. I’m sorry, Mom. I thought I’d do that for you today.”

Vivian opened her bag, withdrawing a rare paperback copy of one of her favorite books, hoping her mother would enjoy listening to it. The book, a gift from her mother for her thirteenth birthday. Bringing it to her nose, she inhaled the musty smell. Then Vivian leaned over her mother, placing the book near her face.

“Breathe in, Mom. Remember what was. Remember my joy when you gave this to me.”

Her mother blinked once.

For the next hour, Vivian read to her mother, stroking her hair, stopping every few pages to look at her mother’s frozen profile. Jenna pulled a chair to the other side of the bed and held her nana’s hand.

Pausing, Vivian tore a page out of the book. She folded it and tucked it into a pocket in her mother’s nightgown. Quoting a line from that page, she whispered:

And then there stole into my fancy, like a rich musical note, the thought of what sweet rest there must be in the grave.

Her mother blinked.

“I’m leaving Edgar Allen Poe to keep you company. Goodbye, Mommy. I love you.”

“Goodbye, Nana,” Jenna said softly. “I’ll miss you. Be happy.”

Then Jenna turned away, not able to watch.

Dr. Vivian Toujours injected her mother in the arm, pushing the plunger filled with sweet release. Janice’s body caved into itself, freeing the tortured person within. One last breath and it was over.

Ninety-five years of hell were over.

“What will you do now, Mom?” Jenna asked.

Vivian turned to her daughter, who still seemed to be eight years old. Years ago, she had wanted Jenna to remain small forever, to cuddle with her, to depend on her. Part of that was still true—Jenna did still depend on her.

So did a lot of other people.

“Keep working,” Vivian said. “I’m going to keep working.”

Originally published by Galaxy Press

I was fourteen when I first skipped across the galaxy, trying to fit in, trailing the older boys who had ditched class. Cox, the grunge leader of the group, tattooed and modified, ran the skipper code hacker with one hand and shoved me through the portal with the other. One moment I could hear the others laughing, the next I was in an empty station on my hands and knees, picking myself off the cold floor, heart racing. I didn’t know much about skipping, or space travel—I had only been off Earth for a week—but I knew it wasn’t cheap. A moment later I heard the others stumbling in after me, shouting in fear and excitement.

“We’re caught.”

“By who?”

“The pigs!”

“They tracing us?”

“’Course. Gotta skip. And trip the pigs. Lose ’em, yeah?”

“Sure, sure.”

I was shoved by three other boys through another skipper, and like that, I was across the universe, in another grey skipper station, running from the pigs who were light years behind.

They never did catch us, not that first time. Cox made sure of that, rerouting stations with his hand hacker to throw them off. We skipped, racing down long hallways in abandoned stations. We skipped, shoving through dense crowds of business drones. We skipped, diving past upkeep bots. We skipped until my world spun and nausea swelled inside me.

When we arrived at our final destination—a claustrophobic, cold room—a dozen boys were touching-up a rigged cacophony of gerrymandered technology. Some of the boys I recognized from school. Their stares jarred me. I was foreign to them, tan Earth skin, natural brown eyes and hair, a stark contrast to their pale features.