On this page I post excerpts from my recent writings. Here is the opening chapter of Dreampath:
Tuesday, February 1, 2253
Ikumi turned away from the viewscreen, climbed down from her couch, and pressed her face to the viewport. Now Brokkr stared back through her own eyes, no longer an idea in her head but a planet drawing her into its affairs. And this time, the dwarf sun of Gliese 832 it orbited welcomed her arrival with a gleam that washed away the ghosts.
A chime sounded.
“Passengers and crew, the East Wind to the Stars will soon arrive at Brokkr Spaceport. Egress is through Gate 2, docking in fifteen minutes. Be sure to take all handheld luggage with you and activate your magboots before leaving the hab ring. Otherwise, you’ll be floating away with the fairies. On behalf of Captain Peterson and the crew, we thank you for traveling with Galactic, and offer you best wishes for your new life on Brokkr.”
She shook her head. The announcement made it sound like they were on holiday, not new colonists with alien arrival to look forward to in the next ten years, maybe five. On a world, a mere sixteen light-years from Earth. Unbelievable.
Forget about that, Itsuko said in front of her thoughts. You’ve got a cushy post, opportunities to do alien research, and a comfy billet to look forward to.
Sure, she replied to her com-pan, but we both know what’s coming.
Ikumi sighed, reached for her guitar, slung it over her back, and picked up her travel bag. As the door slid back, a family nearly fell through the opening—parents trying to rein back their kids, loping ahead, loud with excitement for their new playground. She peered behind them, to a line that curved beyond sight—a man yawning, a woman squinting as she looked up, a couple with wide-open smiles. Nonchalant faces scanning their newsfeeds, their social media—none of them anxious. Closing the door, she took a deep breath. Rather not be a sardine.
You’re right, Itsuko. I am the only one worried.
You’re just saying that, her AI shot back. You’re really a starry-eyed dreamer wanting to meet aliens.
Okay, Ms. voice-in-my-head. But we need to be ready.
Tread carefully. The xenophobes are still here.
Ikumi pointed at the door. So blasé, these people—they’re just so complacent.
Propaganda, my dear—no mention of aliens, the horses aren’t scared.
A fool’s paradise, Itsuko.
Ikumi flopped back on her couch and shut her eyes. Memories returned of the discovery that had brought her here in the first place. Exploring the alien outpost with ex-husband Quincy and his architectural team. When the future was full of excitement and adventure, not fear, dread, and expanding Earth’s empire…
Suddenly, she woke. It was quiet—eerily so. She panicked. How long was she out for? She leaped from the couch and opened the door. The corridor was empty. Grabbing her things, she tramped to the elevator alone in the silence, riding it down to the assembly area. As she stepped out, a man in a military uniform she vaguely knew brushed past. Heading for the next chamber, he saw her and doubled back.
“Ah, Dr. Hayashi. The Winds of Brokkr has just come for you.” He smiled. “Nice perk, not having to deal with the crowds. The shuttle’s waiting at the Crew Gate.”
She bowed at the man with relief, then glanced at his name tag. “Thank you, Commander Conningsby… oh, I almost forgot. How did the repair team go?”
“Safely alighted, four light-years out. They’ll stay a few months to check the bubble way’s secure. Then they’ll head here.”
“At sub-light? That will take long.”
“Two years. But maintaining a hundred-twenty days is a hell of a lot better than going back to thirty-two years. Especially with alien visitors arriving.”
She nodded.
A serious look came over his face. “Dr. Hayashi, just how soon is alien arrival—really?”
“Five years at the earliest. But it’s really a guess. My time with their avatar implied maybe a decade, and they lack FTL.”
Conningsby nodded, put on his officer’s hat and pointed to a nearby doorway. “After you pass through the airlock and enter the spaceport, turn left and walk toward Customs. The Crew Gate is another fifty meters beyond that. A Lieutenant Chiraporn is waiting to take you to the surface. Good luck, and safe travels, Dr. Hayashi.”
Ikumi nodded. The tightness in her chest was unknotting. Once she’d caught up with Alla and Georgie, things would settle. In the meantime, how was ‘Gung’ Chiraporn? Good to get catch-ups from a friendly face. The Customs desk was close. In front of the Customs official, she heaved her luggage onto the scanner. A second for ID, a minute for the bioscan. She lowered her arms and smiled. Ah, Gung in her official purple and crimson jumpsuit. Put hands together for your best wai.
“Sawatdee ka, Lieutenant Chiraporn.”
“Sawatdee ka, Dr. Hayashi,” she said, returning the wai. “And, ohayo gozaimasu. Good to have you back. There’ve been a few changes since you’ve been gone.” She waved Ikumi toward the passenger bridge that led to the shuttle airlock.
“Looking forward to a challenge.”
Gung brought a finger around to her backside and pointed. “Liang chang kin kii chang—if you’re going to take care of an elephant, you’ve gotta be prepared to eat what comes out of its–”
Ikumi laughed. “That bad, eh? Anyway, can’t wait to get back to fresh air and a sky over my head.”
“I’ll take you for a flight when my schedule lets up.”
“I’d like that,” Ikumi said, nodding again. “So, I hear you’ve had your first elections?”
The smile fell away from Gung’s face. “Um… Yes, it’s really all right… everything’s good. I should have you down on the surface in forty-five minutes.” She raced ahead, stepped through the hatch, and strode into the cockpit without uttering another word.
“Forty-five minutes is fine!” Ikumi called out as she placed her guitar and travel bag in the overhead locker. Easing herself into her seat, she strapped in and shook her head—not a good idea to bring up the elections. And bad manners to have upset Gung.
The shuttle backed out with a hiss. When it was clear of the station, and trying not to think about what had disturbed Gung, Ikumi peered through the viewport. Down to the left sprawled the ice fields of Brokkr’s dark side, cold as the coldest Antarctic night—too cold for sun-loving humans. To the right of this Janus-faced world, in the bright crescent of the hemisphere, perpetually turned to the sun, evidence of its blistering heat. Dividing the two, her destination, the goldilocks world of the terminator and its archipelago of islands.
A couple of jolts as the atmosphere thickened. As the buffeting softened, she sank into her couch and dissolved back into memories. Family reunions with ex-husband, Quincy, Jisaburo, their son, and her parents inside their house, nestled in the shadow of Mount Fuji under curtains of snow. The colors and sounds were long gone, deep in the past. She was facing the future alone. Down on the surface, unseen, silent tornados snaked through the Badlands, evoking ghosts of their own—frustrating mysteries lingering from the last time she stepped foot on the planet. Eyes gradually slipped shut. A jolt, then another wrenched her out of those thoughts as Gung spiraled in for the landing. A thud and a bump of the wheels announced the runway at Ground Port.
The unfasten seat belt sign flashed. Ikumi unclicked and stood up, and nearly fell forward. A look down at her magboots.
Sorry, Itsuko chirped. Too busy listening to your thoughts. There.
Damn busy body! She shook her head, collected her belongings, and followed Gung up the air bridge. Suddenly, Gung brought a hand to her visor and turned away, speaking tersely to her com-pan. She turned back to Ikumi. “Sorry, Dr. Hayashi, I have to go now. Dr. Hafiz will meet you in the arrivals hall.”
Ikumi watched as she ran down one of the side corridors and disappeared. Her eyes lingered in the space. Gung was so unflappable in the way of the Thai, so easy-going, even when under the pump. Something had to be really wrong that she’d strand her here with her luggage. Without even a couple of parting words. Letting those thoughts simmer, she followed a stream of passengers heading to the arrivals hall.
The arrivals hall was teaming. No way to think over the din. Shoving through bodies, she scanned the area to get her bearings. Close by, people gathered around guides, both human and droid, who directed them to transports marked with the logo of their space movement. The observation window was quieter—a suitable place to wait for her pickup. She walked over. Suddenly, an inkling came into Gung’s mood. Laser towers rose alongside the runway where none had existed the first time she’d been here. Squads of droid soldiers were patrolling the ground. In the distance, a flight of armed drones flew low over the tarmac as if looking for target practice. No time for that now. She glanced at her watch—it wouldn’t be long: Alla had left her a message.
You know, said Itsuko, out of the blue. Airports are strange buildings.
How so?
Take this one. It’s a far grander structure than before.
So?
Like many on Earth, it’s also vast, rectangular, and cold. Efficient to a tee, but not warm. Quite different from you emotional creatures who use it.
Ikumi laughed. Well, that’s what bureaucrats like in their buildings.
You know, Itsuko continued, straight lines and square spaces deceive you into thinking your minds are more orderly than they are. In fact, they show how they’re not. They show how you fail to express the true nature of your lives. How messy and fluid they are. How caught up you are in your feelings. How that rarely gets expressed in your architecture. An insightful researcher would notice. She’d point out how humans weren’t like what they believed. My point is: Humans’ tendency to suppress their irrational side and avoid acknowledging it to those they don’t know could be a real problem for beings approaching first contact.
Ikumi nodded. Mostly right, but a discussion for later.
In the background, something moving drew Ikumi’s attention. An animated picture display of Brokkr places and spaces that ran over the rear wall as a gaudy tourist commercial. With no sign of Alla, she strolled over. A huge holographic tour guide, dressed in a shiny magenta and orange jumpsuit, stretched out her hand in front of a background that swayed with black palm trees. A tropical island somewhere in the glittering Sunlit Sea.
“Welcome to Brokkr,” chirped the hologram, “humankind’s newest new Earth. With a unique alien mystique, yet still boasting the familiar wide-open spaces, alluring blue seas and comfortable temperatures of home, you’ll find it the perfect place to settle into your new life and career. Your family will love it too.”
The image faded and transformed into the Gliese solar system. Super-Earth Eitri, gas giant Sindri, the scattering of the asteroid belts all swept out in great gravitational arcs. In far orbit, satellite lighthouses cast out their beams.
The hologram turned and pointed to the lights, a smile on her face. “We haven’t forgotten your safety, either. Our shining beacons are there to ward off intruders and unwelcome sightseers. They’re there to tell aliens—this is our neck of the woods now. Stay well away.”
The camera panned to the local sun and the dragonfly space station in close orbit.
The hologram smiled again. “Backing up our beacons is our most powerful deterrent yet, the Torch of Brokkr. Drawing on the Gliese sun for its power, Torch not only signals our presence, but can safely disable an incoming craft at the farthest bounds of the system.”
Ikumi arched her eyebrows. Well, that solves the alien arrival problem—providing we know just when and where to look. And providing the aliens understand human signs.
The hologram continued. “And look at the new spaceway we’ve built!”
A concentric series of rings faded in, growing in size from back to front as they funneled into the system. Out of the nearest, a spacecraft spiraled toward Brokkr Spaceport.
The hologram swept her hand in a grand arc, following the progress of the spaceship. “Our new faster-than-light gateway to Earth and the rest of the colonies. With transit time home now down to one hundred and twenty days, you can visit your loved ones and still get back in time for Christmas, all with the reassurance that Earth ready-response teams will follow in our footsteps if we need them.”
The grandiose hologram got tiresome. Ikumi turned away. Out of the corner of her eye, some figures in Sciences’ uniforms captured her attention. She grinned. Three women, two of whom she recognized, weaved toward her through the crowd. Dr. Alla Hafiz, her warm and generous mentor, smiled back.
“Welcome back, Ikumi,” said Alla.
Ikumi bowed. So nice to see her smiling dark eyes, hear her soft Syrian accent. “Glad to be back, Alla. Science only this time.”
Alla laughed. “You remember Georgie Taylor? She’s your new boss.”
Georgie, whose flaming red hair and glowing blue eyes underscored the flamboyant narcissism of her persona, extended her spider-like hand. Ikumi shook it. Georgie presented contradictions. Someone, who, if she was Japanese, would be considered quite rude. But she wasn’t Japanese, and dealing with her abrasive directness would be a professional and personal challenge.
“Hello again, Ikumi. I promise there’ll be enough time for alien hunting. Great, having a multi-disciplinary as part of our team.”
“Thank you, Georgie. I promise I’ll do my bit.”
Alla waved forward the smaller, round-faced Japanese woman Ikumi didn’t know. “May I introduce a friend, Ms. Watanabe Hiromi? Hiromi’s a bioengineer working for Brokkr Agrobotics.”
Hiromi bowed as Alla continued. “Hiromi’s your new neighbor. She’ll take you to your townhouse in the Valley.” Alla tapped her watch. “I’m afraid Georgie and I have to run. We’ll catch up once you’re settled. Goodbye for now.”
The women strode off toward some bureaucratic faces waiting for them.
Ikumi turned to Hiromi. “Hajimemashite Watanabe San.”
Hiromi bowed. “May I be of favor? Please, call me Hiromi.” She pointed to the passageway opposite. “This way to the helipad. A quadcopter is waiting to take us home. This way we’ll avoid the traffic. I’ve arranged for your bags to be transferred.” Hiromi glanced at the guitar. “How well do you play?”
“Okay enough to play jazz with my colleagues. We used to jam after work.”
“I play keyboards. My boyfriend plays the sax. We’re only amateurs–why don’t you join us? I’m sure we’ll have a giggle.”
Ikumi smiled. “I’d like that. I’m really only an amateur, and quite a rusty one at that. Don’t suppose you also enjoy hang gliding? I brought mine with me. Flying helps clear my head.”
Hiromi grinned. “So that’s the real reason you came back. To hang off the coasts of Brokkr?”
“Haha. Well, yes. It’s all about space. Being in it, and not just hanging in an air current. Being in the spaces of buildings, too. Did you know, the spaces of buildings is the order of minds? Of alien minds as well. The real reason I came back.”
“So, the astronomy is a pretext?”
“Well, everyone’s got to have an excuse for their hobbies.”
Hunching against the swirling gusts, Ikumi dashed to the quadcopter after Hiromi. Diving into the hatch, she threw in her gear and strapped up. The aircraft leaped into the sky and banked, revealing the island’s long narrow expanse. She stared at the spectacle. This cindery landscape, if you didn’t know what it was, was not what it seemed. Black was the color of life under a red dwarf sun. Chains of electric-green glowlegs, illuminating the landscape like the fireflies of Earth, served to confirm it. The good people of Brokkr wanted to shut out the blackness, ignore it as alien—change it to green as soon as they could, to the green of a gone Earth. But that was putting your head in the sand, closing your mind to the strangeness. There was a time she too had faced such blackness on a warm Tokyo night in her car. The time that she’d died in a crash because her car had decided it was best not to collide with a dog. That instant had snapped her clean from her past. Twenty years of living—being human—just gone. Gone, but not quite. She’d come back, just not as before. When you wake up in a new body that’s you, but not as you remember yourself to be, just to remain sane, you’ve got to embrace strangeness and treat it as normal.
She felt a tap on her shoulder.
“Forgive me, Dr. Hayashi San, but you seem a little on edge.”
“Last time I was here,” she said, half-swallowing the words, “I was involved in a killing.” She shook her head at the stranger. “It reminded me I had died.”
Hiromi went quiet for a moment. “Dr. Hafiz told me about that incident. It was a life-or-death moment, and it helped stop a rebellion. And they have restored the person who died in an artificial body.”
Ikumi looked down. “I too have an artificial body. And I should have known better than to get caught up in such things.”
Ikumi turned away from the viewscreen, climbed down from her couch, and pressed her face to the viewport. Now Brokkr stared back through her own eyes, no longer an idea in her head but a planet drawing her into its affairs. And this time, the dwarf sun of Gliese 832 it orbited welcomed her arrival with a gleam that washed away the ghosts.
A chime sounded.
“Passengers and crew, the East Wind to the Stars will soon arrive at Brokkr Spaceport. Egress is through Gate 2, docking in fifteen minutes. Be sure to take all handheld luggage with you and activate your magboots before leaving the hab ring. Otherwise, you’ll be floating away with the fairies. On behalf of Captain Peterson and the crew, we thank you for traveling with Galactic, and offer you best wishes for your new life on Brokkr.”
She shook her head. The announcement made it sound like they were on holiday, not new colonists with alien arrival to look forward to in the next ten years, maybe five. On a world, a mere sixteen light-years from Earth. Unbelievable.
Forget about that, Itsuko said in front of her thoughts. You’ve got a cushy post, opportunities to do alien research, and a comfy billet to look forward to.
Sure, she replied to her com-pan, but we both know what’s coming.
Ikumi sighed, reached for her guitar, slung it over her back, and picked up her travel bag. As the door slid back, a family nearly fell through the opening—parents trying to rein back their kids, loping ahead, loud with excitement for their new playground. She peered behind them, to a line that curved beyond sight—a man yawning, a woman squinting as she looked up, a couple with wide-open smiles. Nonchalant faces scanning their newsfeeds, their social media—none of them anxious. Closing the door, she took a deep breath. Rather not be a sardine.
You’re right, Itsuko. I am the only one worried.
You’re just saying that, her AI shot back. You’re really a starry-eyed dreamer wanting to meet aliens.
Okay, Ms. voice-in-my-head. But we need to be ready.
Tread carefully. The xenophobes are still here.
Ikumi pointed at the door. So blasé, these people—they’re just so complacent.
Propaganda, my dear—no mention of aliens, the horses aren’t scared.
A fool’s paradise, Itsuko.
Ikumi flopped back on her couch and shut her eyes. Memories returned of the discovery that had brought her here in the first place. Exploring the alien outpost with ex-husband Quincy and his architectural team. When the future was full of excitement and adventure, not fear, dread, and expanding Earth’s empire…
Suddenly, she woke. It was quiet—eerily so. She panicked. How long was she out for? She leaped from the couch and opened the door. The corridor was empty. Grabbing her things, she tramped to the elevator alone in the silence, riding it down to the assembly area. As she stepped out, a man in a military uniform she vaguely knew brushed past. Heading for the next chamber, he saw her and doubled back.
“Ah, Dr. Hayashi. The Winds of Brokkr has just come for you.” He smiled. “Nice perk, not having to deal with the crowds. The shuttle’s waiting at the Crew Gate.”
She bowed at the man with relief, then glanced at his name tag. “Thank you, Commander Conningsby… oh, I almost forgot. How did the repair team go?”
“Safely alighted, four light-years out. They’ll stay a few months to check the bubble way’s secure. Then they’ll head here.”
“At sub-light? That will take long.”
“Two years. But maintaining a hundred-twenty days is a hell of a lot better than going back to thirty-two years. Especially with alien visitors arriving.”
She nodded.
A serious look came over his face. “Dr. Hayashi, just how soon is alien arrival—really?”
“Five years at the earliest. But it’s really a guess. My time with their avatar implied maybe a decade, and they lack FTL.”
Conningsby nodded, put on his officer’s hat and pointed to a nearby doorway. “After you pass through the airlock and enter the spaceport, turn left and walk toward Customs. The Crew Gate is another fifty meters beyond that. A Lieutenant Chiraporn is waiting to take you to the surface. Good luck, and safe travels, Dr. Hayashi.”
Ikumi nodded. The tightness in her chest was unknotting. Once she’d caught up with Alla and Georgie, things would settle. In the meantime, how was ‘Gung’ Chiraporn? Good to get catch-ups from a friendly face. The Customs desk was close. In front of the Customs official, she heaved her luggage onto the scanner. A second for ID, a minute for the bioscan. She lowered her arms and smiled. Ah, Gung in her official purple and crimson jumpsuit. Put hands together for your best wai.
“Sawatdee ka, Lieutenant Chiraporn.”
“Sawatdee ka, Dr. Hayashi,” she said, returning the wai. “And, ohayo gozaimasu. Good to have you back. There’ve been a few changes since you’ve been gone.” She waved Ikumi toward the passenger bridge that led to the shuttle airlock.
“Looking forward to a challenge.”
Gung brought a finger around to her backside and pointed. “Liang chang kin kii chang—if you’re going to take care of an elephant, you’ve gotta be prepared to eat what comes out of its–”
Ikumi laughed. “That bad, eh? Anyway, can’t wait to get back to fresh air and a sky over my head.”
“I’ll take you for a flight when my schedule lets up.”
“I’d like that,” Ikumi said, nodding again. “So, I hear you’ve had your first elections?”
The smile fell away from Gung’s face. “Um… Yes, it’s really all right… everything’s good. I should have you down on the surface in forty-five minutes.” She raced ahead, stepped through the hatch, and strode into the cockpit without uttering another word.
“Forty-five minutes is fine!” Ikumi called out as she placed her guitar and travel bag in the overhead locker. Easing herself into her seat, she strapped in and shook her head—not a good idea to bring up the elections. And bad manners to have upset Gung.
The shuttle backed out with a hiss. When it was clear of the station, and trying not to think about what had disturbed Gung, Ikumi peered through the viewport. Down to the left sprawled the ice fields of Brokkr’s dark side, cold as the coldest Antarctic night—too cold for sun-loving humans. To the right of this Janus-faced world, in the bright crescent of the hemisphere, perpetually turned to the sun, evidence of its blistering heat. Dividing the two, her destination, the goldilocks world of the terminator and its archipelago of islands.
A couple of jolts as the atmosphere thickened. As the buffeting softened, she sank into her couch and dissolved back into memories. Family reunions with ex-husband, Quincy, Jisaburo, their son, and her parents inside their house, nestled in the shadow of Mount Fuji under curtains of snow. The colors and sounds were long gone, deep in the past. She was facing the future alone. Down on the surface, unseen, silent tornados snaked through the Badlands, evoking ghosts of their own—frustrating mysteries lingering from the last time she stepped foot on the planet. Eyes gradually slipped shut. A jolt, then another wrenched her out of those thoughts as Gung spiraled in for the landing. A thud and a bump of the wheels announced the runway at Ground Port.
The unfasten seat belt sign flashed. Ikumi unclicked and stood up, and nearly fell forward. A look down at her magboots.
Sorry, Itsuko chirped. Too busy listening to your thoughts. There.
Damn busy body! She shook her head, collected her belongings, and followed Gung up the air bridge. Suddenly, Gung brought a hand to her visor and turned away, speaking tersely to her com-pan. She turned back to Ikumi. “Sorry, Dr. Hayashi, I have to go now. Dr. Hafiz will meet you in the arrivals hall.”
Ikumi watched as she ran down one of the side corridors and disappeared. Her eyes lingered in the space. Gung was so unflappable in the way of the Thai, so easy-going, even when under the pump. Something had to be really wrong that she’d strand her here with her luggage. Without even a couple of parting words. Letting those thoughts simmer, she followed a stream of passengers heading to the arrivals hall.
The arrivals hall was teaming. No way to think over the din. Shoving through bodies, she scanned the area to get her bearings. Close by, people gathered around guides, both human and droid, who directed them to transports marked with the logo of their space movement. The observation window was quieter—a suitable place to wait for her pickup. She walked over. Suddenly, an inkling came into Gung’s mood. Laser towers rose alongside the runway where none had existed the first time she’d been here. Squads of droid soldiers were patrolling the ground. In the distance, a flight of armed drones flew low over the tarmac as if looking for target practice. No time for that now. She glanced at her watch—it wouldn’t be long: Alla had left her a message.
You know, said Itsuko, out of the blue. Airports are strange buildings.
How so?
Take this one. It’s a far grander structure than before.
So?
Like many on Earth, it’s also vast, rectangular, and cold. Efficient to a tee, but not warm. Quite different from you emotional creatures who use it.
Ikumi laughed. Well, that’s what bureaucrats like in their buildings.
You know, Itsuko continued, straight lines and square spaces deceive you into thinking your minds are more orderly than they are. In fact, they show how they’re not. They show how you fail to express the true nature of your lives. How messy and fluid they are. How caught up you are in your feelings. How that rarely gets expressed in your architecture. An insightful researcher would notice. She’d point out how humans weren’t like what they believed. My point is: Humans’ tendency to suppress their irrational side and avoid acknowledging it to those they don’t know could be a real problem for beings approaching first contact.
Ikumi nodded. Mostly right, but a discussion for later.
In the background, something moving drew Ikumi’s attention. An animated picture display of Brokkr places and spaces that ran over the rear wall as a gaudy tourist commercial. With no sign of Alla, she strolled over. A huge holographic tour guide, dressed in a shiny magenta and orange jumpsuit, stretched out her hand in front of a background that swayed with black palm trees. A tropical island somewhere in the glittering Sunlit Sea.
“Welcome to Brokkr,” chirped the hologram, “humankind’s newest new Earth. With a unique alien mystique, yet still boasting the familiar wide-open spaces, alluring blue seas and comfortable temperatures of home, you’ll find it the perfect place to settle into your new life and career. Your family will love it too.”
The image faded and transformed into the Gliese solar system. Super-Earth Eitri, gas giant Sindri, the scattering of the asteroid belts all swept out in great gravitational arcs. In far orbit, satellite lighthouses cast out their beams.
The hologram turned and pointed to the lights, a smile on her face. “We haven’t forgotten your safety, either. Our shining beacons are there to ward off intruders and unwelcome sightseers. They’re there to tell aliens—this is our neck of the woods now. Stay well away.”
The camera panned to the local sun and the dragonfly space station in close orbit.
The hologram smiled again. “Backing up our beacons is our most powerful deterrent yet, the Torch of Brokkr. Drawing on the Gliese sun for its power, Torch not only signals our presence, but can safely disable an incoming craft at the farthest bounds of the system.”
Ikumi arched her eyebrows. Well, that solves the alien arrival problem—providing we know just when and where to look. And providing the aliens understand human signs.
The hologram continued. “And look at the new spaceway we’ve built!”
A concentric series of rings faded in, growing in size from back to front as they funneled into the system. Out of the nearest, a spacecraft spiraled toward Brokkr Spaceport.
The hologram swept her hand in a grand arc, following the progress of the spaceship. “Our new faster-than-light gateway to Earth and the rest of the colonies. With transit time home now down to one hundred and twenty days, you can visit your loved ones and still get back in time for Christmas, all with the reassurance that Earth ready-response teams will follow in our footsteps if we need them.”
The grandiose hologram got tiresome. Ikumi turned away. Out of the corner of her eye, some figures in Sciences’ uniforms captured her attention. She grinned. Three women, two of whom she recognized, weaved toward her through the crowd. Dr. Alla Hafiz, her warm and generous mentor, smiled back.
“Welcome back, Ikumi,” said Alla.
Ikumi bowed. So nice to see her smiling dark eyes, hear her soft Syrian accent. “Glad to be back, Alla. Science only this time.”
Alla laughed. “You remember Georgie Taylor? She’s your new boss.”
Georgie, whose flaming red hair and glowing blue eyes underscored the flamboyant narcissism of her persona, extended her spider-like hand. Ikumi shook it. Georgie presented contradictions. Someone, who, if she was Japanese, would be considered quite rude. But she wasn’t Japanese, and dealing with her abrasive directness would be a professional and personal challenge.
“Hello again, Ikumi. I promise there’ll be enough time for alien hunting. Great, having a multi-disciplinary as part of our team.”
“Thank you, Georgie. I promise I’ll do my bit.”
Alla waved forward the smaller, round-faced Japanese woman Ikumi didn’t know. “May I introduce a friend, Ms. Watanabe Hiromi? Hiromi’s a bioengineer working for Brokkr Agrobotics.”
Hiromi bowed as Alla continued. “Hiromi’s your new neighbor. She’ll take you to your townhouse in the Valley.” Alla tapped her watch. “I’m afraid Georgie and I have to run. We’ll catch up once you’re settled. Goodbye for now.”
The women strode off toward some bureaucratic faces waiting for them.
Ikumi turned to Hiromi. “Hajimemashite Watanabe San.”
Hiromi bowed. “May I be of favor? Please, call me Hiromi.” She pointed to the passageway opposite. “This way to the helipad. A quadcopter is waiting to take us home. This way we’ll avoid the traffic. I’ve arranged for your bags to be transferred.” Hiromi glanced at the guitar. “How well do you play?”
“Okay enough to play jazz with my colleagues. We used to jam after work.”
“I play keyboards. My boyfriend plays the sax. We’re only amateurs–why don’t you join us? I’m sure we’ll have a giggle.”
Ikumi smiled. “I’d like that. I’m really only an amateur, and quite a rusty one at that. Don’t suppose you also enjoy hang gliding? I brought mine with me. Flying helps clear my head.”
Hiromi grinned. “So that’s the real reason you came back. To hang off the coasts of Brokkr?”
“Haha. Well, yes. It’s all about space. Being in it, and not just hanging in an air current. Being in the spaces of buildings, too. Did you know, the spaces of buildings is the order of minds? Of alien minds as well. The real reason I came back.”
“So, the astronomy is a pretext?”
“Well, everyone’s got to have an excuse for their hobbies.”
Hunching against the swirling gusts, Ikumi dashed to the quadcopter after Hiromi. Diving into the hatch, she threw in her gear and strapped up. The aircraft leaped into the sky and banked, revealing the island’s long narrow expanse. She stared at the spectacle. This cindery landscape, if you didn’t know what it was, was not what it seemed. Black was the color of life under a red dwarf sun. Chains of electric-green glowlegs, illuminating the landscape like the fireflies of Earth, served to confirm it. The good people of Brokkr wanted to shut out the blackness, ignore it as alien—change it to green as soon as they could, to the green of a gone Earth. But that was putting your head in the sand, closing your mind to the strangeness. There was a time she too had faced such blackness on a warm Tokyo night in her car. The time that she’d died in a crash because her car had decided it was best not to collide with a dog. That instant had snapped her clean from her past. Twenty years of living—being human—just gone. Gone, but not quite. She’d come back, just not as before. When you wake up in a new body that’s you, but not as you remember yourself to be, just to remain sane, you’ve got to embrace strangeness and treat it as normal.
She felt a tap on her shoulder.
“Forgive me, Dr. Hayashi San, but you seem a little on edge.”
“Last time I was here,” she said, half-swallowing the words, “I was involved in a killing.” She shook her head at the stranger. “It reminded me I had died.”
Hiromi went quiet for a moment. “Dr. Hafiz told me about that incident. It was a life-or-death moment, and it helped stop a rebellion. And they have restored the person who died in an artificial body.”
Ikumi looked down. “I too have an artificial body. And I should have known better than to get caught up in such things.”