“What are we?”

“We are Vairens,” Syzygy replied nonchalantly by the portal-way, eyeing his partner surreptitiously. The couple had come into friction in the last few weeks, when the plight of the outcasts came to weigh on their collective conscience.

“You know that’s not what I’m referring to,” Amaranth said, her vision pulling upon the high mountains that loomed half a planet-width away. Any stronger, and she would’ve torn the peaks off with her gaze.

“We are Vairens,” Syzygy reiterated. “For eons, an illuminating pillar through the darkness, unbending, unconquerable, unquenchable. We were moulding light and shaping gravity even before the earliest civilizations had discovered heat or invented the wheel.”

“Yes,” Amaranth said, remaining unmoved. “We may have achieved a great deal, in most cases surpassing those of our neighbours, but if we subject ourselves, even one individual to such gross indecency…”

Syzygy stepped up, standing next to his symbiont. A moment passed and he turned to regard his diminutive other half. “We are no better than hive-chewers?”

“You mock me, Syzygy. I know you do.”

“I apologize Amaranth, it is not my intention to belittle your concerns. I—” he paused, exasperation crept into his voice. “We,” he corrected, “we have to preserve our way of life. It is who we are. It is… what we are.”

“And so I ask,” Amaranth said. “What are we?”

“A million-year old race of hyper-intelligent beings.”

“I could say the same of the Metamorphs.”

“Those savages aren’t of the same evolutionary pedigree as us. They had a biased advantage, and by all accounts—scientific or otherwise—should have supplanted us as the dominant species in the sextant.”

“So, what does that say about us?” Amaranth angled her shoulders, appearing to examine her partner’s façade.

“We are civilized. We have social structure, intricate culture, unparalleled ecosystems, each developed specifically to blend in with the unique characteristics of the terraformed planet. The shapeshifters simply acquire and assimilate. They are barbaric.”

Amaranth was quick to counter, “and we impose an inflexible doctrine on our young, even before conception, dictating how each individual is to function within the confines of their society. We erode our own freedom before we even understand what it means to be free.”

“Without systemic perfection,” Syzygy said, “we would not be what we are right now.” His eyes narrowed slightly.

“So,” Amaranth said, “it matters not that our individual rights are trampled upon, so long as we have the ability to subjugate every other species that we come across, friend or foe?”

“Our system works,” came the retort. Syzygy was facing Amaranth in full, arms folded.

“We have never enjoyed more holistic and accomplished lives. Our achievements in science, technology, art, philosophy—everything—remained unrivalled. Do you remember when we were first inflicted by the phage?”

Amaranth closed her eyes, memories from almost forty-thousand years ago sprouted into her subconscious, seeking to soften her stoic visage. The ability to store and retrieve every single thought and mental nuance was both a blessing and curse.

“We lost billions,” she said after a pause.

“Indeed,” Syzygy said, his chest puffing out. “But you’re still not convinced.”

“There has to be another way,” she said, again after a short while. Her eyes were semi-moist.

Syzygy arched an eyebrow. “You are emotional,” he said. “I haven’t seen you like this in a long time. Not since we lost Daedal.”

Amaranth turned away at the mention of their offspring, and stepped toward the other view-portal.

“This can’t be about those vagabonds,” Syzygy said, shadowing her departure. But before he could get within arm’s length, his genetic-mate turned around with an open palm held up, intended to prevent his advance.

“I implore you,” Amaranth said, lowering her arm, “we must seek an amicable resolution for these individuals.”

“You frustrate me,” Syzygy said from where he stopped. “Surely you understand, the pairing works more than just a marriage of ideology and thesis.”

“I do.”

“But do you?”

Amaranth did not reply. Instead, she had her back towards him again.

“I’m inclined to comment,” Syzygy said, observing his spouse of two-thousand years. Still, only roaring silence.

“Don’t,” she finally said.

“Without the pairing,” he said, “our species will go extinct.”

Her frame heaved up and down.

“One half provides genetic surplus, one half consumes. Without compatible—”

“I said don’t,” Amaranth shot him a glare, both hands perched on her hips. “Have you forgotten that I used to be on the science directorate?”

Syzygy held his tongue.

“Have you forgotten it was I who composed the entire compendium on pairing? Have you forgotten that I propelled your station to its current stature, high above your peers? Is your head so far up the stratosphere that you suffer from fluid deprivation?”

“Enough!” Syzygy said, lunging forward to grip her forearms. “Amaranth!” he jolted her, “this isn’t you. Why are you behaving erratically?”

Both of her eyes had suddenly turned a shade of dark emerald, with smaller hair-like tendrils boring just beneath the surface of her skin, permeating deeper and wider with each second.

“Amaranth,” he said softly as he joined her on the floor, shins flat against the malleable surface that had recrystallized itself to form a low-lying chair. “Why do you weep? Where is this grief coming from? Tell me, please.”

She took several steadying breaths. Steadily, the dark green pigments on her forehead and cheekbones dissipated, becoming less prominent. “I…” Amaranth said, her light-green orbs finding his. “I request severance.”

Syzygy released her arms in an instant, putting distance between himself and his partner. “You…” he gasped. “What is going on?”

“I do not wish to seem an ungrateful spouse,” she said, “for we have shared each other for as long as I can remember without synthetic aid. I do cherish our experiences. But…”

“Stop.”

“No, Syzygy, let me expla—”

“No!” he said with flaring eyes. “I said stop!” It was Syzygy who was now spotting viridian patterns on his face.

“Please,” she hushed.

“I understand now,” he said with a forced chuckle. “Why you empathized so fervently with the outcasts and want to champion their cause.”

“We do not seek to abolish the pairing, only that we incorporate additional compatibility criteria during the mutual-selection process.”

“Am I no longer worthy of your exudations?”

“It’s not that,” Amaranth replied. “It has never been about that.”

“Oh?” Syzygy folded his arms again. “Tell me, then. Tell me what it’s really about.”

“Intimacy,” she said. “Harmonious rapport that provides a deep reciprocity of both individuals—body, mind and spirit.”

“Spirit? Really?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed. “That is what we yearn. To have a choice. To have a say in the matter that concerns our existence. And in many ways, the quality of our collective

existence.”

“You mean that’s what you want.” His voice was dripping ice.

“I…”

“No,” he said in quick succession and edged away. “It’s not possible. It’s… you clearly stated in the compendium that any other pairing process will not guarantee the same probabilities of success. I will not have it. The leadership will not have it.”

“You don’t speak for the leadership,” she said. “You are merely one part of many. If the lack of scientific interest in the subject is holding—”

“It’s too risky,” he countered. “We cannot allow personal interests to threaten what is otherwise a perfect system that has guaranteed the superiority of the species for more than a millenia.”

“But we don’t know if it won’t work,” Amaranth argued. “We discounted so many branches of thought at the time, so many ideas were left unexplored. I’m confident we can find a way, a compromise, a resolution to mend the mainstream with the divergents.”

Syzygy spun around without warning and had his hands around her neck the moment he was within reach. “There will be no studies or investigations,” he whispered into her contorted face. Her legs weakened as her internal systems were unable to compensate from the forced extraction of genetic substance. Another moment later and his partner’s face was pale, mired in wrinkles. “I can see the terror in your eyes. You thought you could anticipate, you thought you knew me. But you don’t, you never did.”

Amaranth was on her knees, hands on his forearms, staring into his eyes, a frowned etched upon her forehead. Her neck and ears were a shade of dark aubergine.

“Yes, dearest companion,” Syzygy said, “fear my wrath. It’s funny. To think I augmented by skin pigments years ago as a means of subterfuge—to ensure longevity of ascendance—never once crossing my mind that I would need to conceal my anger from you. Funny. How things worked out.”

She squeaked.

“What did you say?”

She squeaked again.

Syzygy eased his claws and drew closer, his ears almost touching Amaranth’s lips. “Yes?”

“I impregnated my blood hours ago.”

He released his grip, the color from his face drained. “What have you done?”

“Taking a stance.” Amaranth soared up as she watched her spouse stumble backwards, his skin percolating grey.

“You won’t get away with this…” he wheezed, trying to prop himself upright.

“I already have.”

There’s panic in the streets and somehow that is the most calming lullaby to the loneliest of people. To know that there are parents leaving their cars parked in the middle of jammed streets to run home to their children, to know that half the world wants to spend their last days on earth singing and dancing, and to know that tears are nothing to be afraid of gives me the courage to be sad.

I stand on the pavement of the street, cold breeze in my hair, and I put my violin between my thighs and my bow between my lips while I pull the long strands into a ponytail, centred perfectly at the top of my head as I tip back. Once the elastic is securely wrapped around my hair, I resume a professional violinist’s position and put the hair of the bow against the A-string. Then I remove the bow. I haven’t the slightest clue what to play. Dvorak’s “Symphony from the New World” seems entirely too ironic. So without any logical connection, I begin to lightly drag my bow against the strings to the melody of Gershwin’s “An American in Paris”. The happy melody doesn’t seem out of place at all and I wish I could dance and play at the same time, but I’m afraid of tripping over the feet of the masses of citizens running past me.

A child stops to listen to me. She sits at my feet and wraps her arms around my calf,

holding on tight, and I stop playing.

“Pourquoi tu t’as arrêtée?” She asks in a clear Italian accent and I hold both the violin and bow in one hand so I am able to pick her up and move to the bakery under my apartment. I stand at the closed door, she sits on the stairs. “Vas-y, joue!” she urges with a small smile on her face, her dark, sunshine blonde curls bouncing with excitement.

I smile back and resume the piece, tears gathering in my eyes as I think of you and the little girl I wanted us to have. Her name would have been Victoria – after a great sovereign. Oh, what a wonderful thing it is to be named Victory. I think you would have liked it; you were always a fan of history.

Her hair reminds me of my sister. I should think she’s with her best friends, playing music as well. Whenever a song was stuck in my head, the same song was stuck in her head, too, and somehow I have a feeling we both have the same sense of humour to be thinking of Europe’s “The Final Countdown”. I regret all the times I could have spoken to her and didn’t. In fact, I regret many things, but none of it matters anymore. All that matters is what I do now, in the next hour or so. Hopefully, we have at least an hour.

I sit down next to my last friend and she frowns when she sees a tear on my cheek. “T’es triste?” She asks and fumbles with the edge of her sleeve quite pointlessly. I nod my head and smile at her as I sniffle and wipe the tear away, my heart breaking when she hugs me with her small but strong arms.

I think of Mom and Dad. I think of all my relatives, both close and distant. I think of all the people I have loved or cared for, I think of my favourite colours, I think of my favourite songs, and just like that “The Final Countdown” is replaced by Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’”. I sing it out loud and someone running by, a tall and round middle-aged man, stops to listen. In the chorus, he joins in with tears in his eyes.

And I do. I hold on to that feeling as the world is suddenly dark and I have three and a half more seconds to breathe. I hold on to that feeling for as long as I can.

The Dochler Virus (also commonly known as the Wormbleed Epidemic)

        The Dochler Virus, named after Robert Dochler, head researcher at the German Disease Management Facility from 2112-2115, was the most deadly and dangerous virus ever recorded. Informally defined as the first "bacterite", an organism resembling both a bacteria and a parasite, it spread itself in an altogether different manner than other viruses. It spread by infecting the air itself, causing oxygen particles to evolve into parasitic viruses.

        The Dochler Virus was first discovered by an American Space-travel Emergency Rescue crew, who flew by spacecraft to Mars to investigate a ground base (EGR113) that had stopped sending and receiving signals from Earth. Upon arrival at the base, the crew knew something was amiss. Around all of the airlocks and ventilation ports there were thousands of small blue objects on the ground, and there were several small punctures in the ground station's outer hull. When they entered the station, the crew found that the entire base was covered in these blue objects, and upon carefully investigating one of these, they found it to be a dead creature resembling a worm or centipede, about an inch long. There were an estimated 15,000 of these dead worms in the base, whereas there were only 8 workers in the base. When the rescue crew found the worker's bodies, it was evident that they had been eaten alive.

        After some governmental controversy, it was decided that a few of the worms should be taken back to Earth in sealed sample containers. The rescue crew did this, and launched back to Earth, but when they landed, the worms had disappeared. All that was left in the containers was a strange red cloud of gas. It was concluded that the worms had disintegrated in the jars, leaving a cloud of particles behind.

        The red cloud was unable to be analyzed by American scientists, so the containers were shipped to Germany, where Robert Dochler, after intensive lab testing, discovered the true nature of the virus.

        The red cloud was composed of condensed, airborne, dormant bacteria that spread in stages. The first stage was reproduction. The virus infected nearby oxygen particles with microscopic projectiles, causing those particles to be corrupted and morph into a duplicate virus. The second stage was to feed on human flesh. The airborne viruses would float into the mouth or nose of a human being, and feed on the nutrients inside the body. It would take up to five minutes for the viruses to feed enough to move on to the next stage, and until then, the victim would not know that he or she was infected. The final stage was evolution. The viruses would transform into a small parasite using the nutrients that they had gathered, and eat the victim from the inside out. After the victim was dead, the worms would move on to another human, and another- until the entire human race was dead. They would stop at nothing, and seemed to have an uncanny way of telling where a human was. They could burrow through the ground, and through almost all substances to reach a person. And if the worm died or was deprived of oxygen, it would disintegrate into hundreds more dormant viruses, waiting for the right moment to strike. In each of those containers, behind half an inch of glass, was the power to destroy an entire planet.

        "The difficulty with finding an antidote for the Wormbleed Epidemic is it's rate of spread," said Dr. Peter Codell from Cambelton University. "Once released into the open air, the red cloud expands at a rate of two cubic meters per second squared, meaning that it could possibly destroy an entire planet in less than three days."

        The virus was contained by a governmental agency for five years under high security, safe from any chance of breakout, but in 2118 a terrorist named Stenlow Decain attempted to break into the building and open one of the glass tubes that contained the virus. It was a suicide mission, and Decain's reasons were unknown. The glass tubes were connected to a self-destruct of the building, so that if a container was opened, the building would explode, hopefully destroying the virus before it escaped the building's parameters. But Decain managed to disable the system, and he broke one of the containers. Rapidly the virus began to spread inside the building, and soon would have spread into the air, at which point it would be impossible to quarantine. Fortunately, a security guard named Aaron Parks sighted the terrorist, and shortly before being devoured by the worms, he broke into the Dochler Virus containment room and activated the self-destruct, exploding the building, and ending his life and those of the other guards and scientists. 

        Many say that this is the closest Earth has avoided destruction, and Aaron Parks will always remain a hero in our minds. Now we have no trace of the virus anywhere except our documents, although it is still not sure whether the virus has been exterminated. Upon returning to Mars to look for the dead worms, it was found that they had dissipated into the thin air of Mars, and whether dead or alive, no one knows. No one seems to understand much about where the virus came from or where it went. It's origin will likely always be unknown.

     A heavy layer of tension hung in the air as the people of the planet Aukere went about their daily lives. It was hard not to notice the simmering glances that Aukerens shot towards the militant Earthlings in their ridiculous blue and gold life support suits. It was true that the suits were vital for Earth born humans outside the safety of their bases, but that didn’t stop Aukerens from hating everything those suits stood for.  

     The Origin Guard was the Earth’s special Aukere military branch where only Earth born humans were allowed to join. Inside the palatial military bases humans enjoyed luxury, high incomes, and true human prestige. It was a den of overindulged, entitled, and vicious snobs with a metaphorical “no Aukerens allowed” sign that we all resented. Much to our indignation, all Earthlings viewed Aukerens as a lesser subhuman race. I found myself comparing the dark mahogany skin tone and black hair of Aukerens to humans’ natural colors. Hate was born from so little. 

      “What are you looking at gene splice?” The vitriolic voice of a guard made me snap my eyes down and curse myself for having been careless enough to stare at them. Anything more than a glance was just inviting trouble. The crude insult he made about the Aukeren race’s origin burnt a slow molten anger within me.  

     “I apologize sir, I meant no disrespect.” My throat felt tight around the forced words of contrition.  

     “Next time keep your weird reptile eyes off me.” The guard sneered at me disgustedly. It took everything I had to remain passive.

     “It’s called a nictitating membrane.” We both turned to see a congenial looking man smiling benignly. Like most Aukeren men, the man was powerfully built with a very dark skin tone of maroon hues. Although he was the picture of serenity, I knew that he more than anyone held an intimidating amount of resentment towards the Origin Guard and Earthlings.  

     “Ishedus Corliss.” The guard nodded with distaste marring his lips. Ishedus smiled blandly at the guard, because he knew that his position in Aukere as a pira tycoon gave him a good measure of enforced respect among the humans.  

     “If you’ll excuse us, I have some business with him.” Ishedus didn’t wait for the guard to respond, but simply clapped me on the shoulder and led me away.  

     Being in Ishedus’ presence always gave me strength and a stronger sense of pride in myself. He was a giant in the pira industry of mining and exporting, as well as the owner of all the pira foundries. Because of this he held a lot of clout among Earthlings for his wealth and the fact that it was through him that Earth obtained most of its pira.  

     Pira was Aukere’s most precious commodity. It was a mineral not found on Earth, and was intrinsic for building the nuclear fusion reactors that Earth and Aukere relied heavily on for energy. Pira easily withstood the high heat and the speed of the neutrons generated by fusion reaction.  

     “Thanks for saving me back there Ishedus.” I gave my boss a grateful smile and exhaled loudly.  

     “I’m just glad I came upon you when I did.” Ishedus gave my shoulder a squeeze before releasing it and walking companionably beside me.  

     “Gyan, It would be a dangerous thing to attract their attention right now. For the sake of the cause, you must be more careful.”  Ishedus remarked softly.    

     “I promise it, Ishedus.” I vowed, feeling the chill of shame at having been reprimanded by Ishedus. He was right though. It was a delicate time.  

     We made our way to one of Ishedus’ factories and slipped inside. Ishedus’ stride took on a new purpose as he walked into a cavernous space filled with the brothers and sisters of our cause.  

     People quieted and moved aside as our leader Ishedus strode for the makeshift dais set up at one end of the room. It felt good to walk beside him, and as his right-hand man I got many nods of respect as well. 

     Ishedus and I had become close after Ishedus inadvertently learned that my estranged father was actually a human named Bram Roth who held a high position within the English government. My father didn’t keep in touch with my mother Tamah and me, but he had recently contacted me to urge me into becoming a spy in the Aukeren rebellion for the EUN (Earth's United Nations.)  I had vehemently refused. When I told Ishedus he shocked me by telling me I should have taken the deal. His logic was sound though, as he explained that it would have been an invaluable source of intelligence and misdirection against Earth. My blunder haunted me, although Ishedus assured me that he understood why I turned it down.   

     “Brothers and sisters,” Ishedus began, “I am sickened to bring you news of our beloved Emeric Fesler’s removal from his post as viceroy. The rumors were true.” Ishedus was solemn as we all cried out in shock and protest. The heads of the Fesler family had been acting as Earth’s viceroy since the first established colony on Aukere. The Fesler family like all the original colonists had started out human and then made the genetic transition to subhuman in order to flourish on Aukere. A loud chorus of why’s bombarded Ishedus and he calmly held out his hand to stem the outcry.  

     “As we all know Lord Emeric Fesler is an avid Aukeren advocate and has made great efforts in the human rights of Aukerens and the prejudice against us. Earth has declared that the interests of the Fesler family no longer coincides with the interests of Earth’s United Nations, so EUN has decided to take direct governmental control of Aukere with the enforcement of the Origin Guard. Emeric Fesler will be removed and thanked for his services.” Ishedus gazed out at the sea of rebellious Aukerens and reflected their outrage back at them. I could feel my own heart dancing to the rhythm of wrath as I silently shook in rage. How dare Earth remove our only voice.

     “My people! It’s time to protect what’s ours! To prove to those Earth bastards that we are just as human as they are! It’s our duty to our people, to our children, to our future to not sit back and let Earth walk all over us.” Spittle flew from Ishedus’ mouth as his face grew dark with fervor. The crowd cheered their agreement, calling out their existence and their anger to the universe. “It is time for us to FIGHT!”

     “WE! ARE! HUMAN!” We all chanted over and over in unison.  

     It had been three weeks since Ishedus had cut Earth off from all pira related exports. We had reliable information that tomorrow night the Origin Guard would be attacking us. A few moderately successful skirmishes against the Origin Guard had given us confidence against our enemy. It was true the Earth military was better prepared, but we had the upper hand when it came to passion and pure blood lust. Through the battles we had proven that we were serious and that negotiations were no longer an option. Our demands were simple and reasonable. We wanted an EUN allied government ruled by the Fesler family, our full human rights, and the reduction of the Origin Guard.

     “Gyan!” I looked over to where Ishedus was bent over a 3 dimensional map talking urgently to a group of people. “I left the plan copies up in my office right on top of my desk, would you mind?”  

     When I reach his office I see that he’s already remotely unlocked the door for me to enter. I immediately see the pack of plan copies and grab them, but the glow of a mail page floating above his desk catches my attention. I spared a moment to look at it and was shocked by what I saw. It was a message from the EUN addressing three of the storage facilities containing casts of pira that Ishedus had signed over to the Origin Guard. 

     I commanded the mail back to his inbox and began snooping around his letters. I was horrified to learn that Ishedus had been feeding the EUN information about our rebellion. Ishedus had been the one to propose the plan to the EUN in return for a powerful position in the newly formed Aukere government. Earth wanted Ishedus to incite the rebellion so that the EUN could do a surgical removal of the insurgents. And in return the EUN agreed that as long as Ishedus could keep his name unconnected publicly to the rebellion he would be rewarded.  

     A memory formed of Ishedus refusing to be the face of the rebellion. His explanation was logical and charismatic when he told us that the rebellion didn’t belong to one man alone, but to all the men and women who fought for their rights. It belonged to Aukerens.   

     The soft susurration of fabric alerted me to Ishedus standing in the office with me, his face cast in shadow.  

     “It’s very inappropriate to read someone else’s mail. I was wondering what was taking you so long.” Ishedus said blithely while shutting the door behind him.  

     “Is this what I think it is Ishedus?” I was willing him to say something, anything to change the reality of the situation.

     “This makes things easier for me.” Ishedus smiled like the gleam of the knife allowing me to see that the man I thought I knew was a mask. “With your convenient parentage, it won’t be a far stretch for people to see how you sold out your race for your own advantage. Like father, like son.” My mind was a maelstrom of shocked betrayal. This man had been like a hero to me.  

     “You wouldn’t.” I choked out, seeing the pieces fall together too perfectly. I was desperately trying to reconcile this monster with the man I thought I had known for so long.  

     “Well that’s a stupid thing to say. I’m obviously capable of many things you never would have dreamed I’d do. What makes this so different?” He cocked his head inquisitively. “You’ll go down as a traitor to the people you were willing to die for. It’s kind of poetic.”  

     “I don’t understand why you would betray us."  I surreptitiously looked for something to defend myself with or a way out.  

     He guffawed unexpectedly. “Why would I not betray you?! This rebellion isn’t going anywhere. I have nothing real to gain from this. You don’t get respect and power by demanding it like little children holding sticks.” A loud noise from downstairs distracted us.  

     “Damn it, they’re early.” Ishedus muttered in annoyance. I took his moment of confusion to try to lunge past him to the door, but he easily batted me out of the way. He withdrew an energy fusion gun and aimed it calmly at me.  

     “What’s going on?” I demanded as he pressed the priming button and the gun began glowing green. I could hear the savage sounds of battle echoing through-out the building. 

     “It’s the clean-up crew. The Origin Guard is here to squash the rebellion.” He smiled confidently.  

     “So you’re just going to kill me?” I already knew the answer, but I still needed to ask.

     “Don’t get second thoughts now. Weren’t you prepared to die for what you believed in?”

     I glared at him resentfully and shook my head. “I never believed in this. In spite of everything you’re doing to undermine our beliefs, our...no, my people will persevere.” I glared at him viciously, but he wasn’t really listening.

     "You know what? I’m actually a little nervous. I’ve never killed anyone before.” The gun flashed brilliantly in front of my eyes as the soft sound of the laser hitting my body echoed within me.  

     As my senses slowly abandoned me, I heard a beautiful rebel yell, “WE ARE HUMAN!”  

     Our rebellion was only just beginning.  

My little sister didn’t speak to me for fourteen years. I can’t blame her. I know she saw me as a traitor, as weaker. I was weaker. Part of me, ever a coward, even wishes she’d kept her silence to the end. I don’t know. Is it really better to see disaster coming at you? It’s not like you can truly appreciate your final moments of peace when you feel the hangman’s door ready to drop beneath your feet.

My husband knew - I told him as soon as he came home from work that night. We talked in hushed whispers over cooking dinner, checking to make sure the kids were still distracted by the TV in the next room. It was sheer selfishness on my part. As I said, I know myself to be a coward. I would never have had the heart to face this all by myself.

Lila was no coward. One of the fiercest people I’ve ever known, of course she’d love a world as tough as herself. I had no love for that planetary jailhouse. It wasn’t fair, what they did to us. We were third generation prisoners, our grandparents were the criminals. Why, then, were we the ones who had to pay? Why did it take so long for them to let us, innocents, come home to a world that was more than dust and dry, aching heat?

I started saving when I was a child, so desperate for a chance at something, anything more. When I was fifteen, Earth lifted the travel ban, and a ship came to take anyone born on the planet who wanted to go back to a home we should’ve had all along. I didn’t ask her to come, and she didn’t ask me to stay. She didn’t even come to see me off. I took my dirty jar of coins, and left my sister and the rest of my family in the dust.

I fell in love with Earth through ripped paperbacks and outdated magazines that had long lost their gloss. I didn’t know until I arrived how badly they’d failed to capture just how bright everything was. The cities were lights stacked on top of lights, children’s blocks in glowing towers with fireflies dancing in between.

As a poor immigrant, I ended up in the outskirts of the city. My jar of money bought me a single room apartment with a window that didn’t fully close, and crisp air swept over me all night. With no curtains, the light spilled in when I was trying to sleep.

Somehow, I never did get around to buying any.

It was the best place I’ve ever lived, and I mourned it when I moved in with my eventual husband, into his more middle-class apartment with multiple rooms and functioning heating.

My sister’s call came through while I was putting away groceries, and I sat next to fresh vegetables wilting in the summer heat as she spoke. She asked me if I could get out of the city. I told her I couldn’t, not on such short notice. She was quiet for a long time, and I watched a bird peck at the pots on the window ledge that already needed to be watered again. She said she was sorry. She asked me if I was okay. I told her I was married now.

Does he treat you well? She wanted to know. I said he treated me very well. Brought me flowers once a week, even when we both knew there were better things we could spend the money on.

I told her about my children, my boy and my two little girls. I told her the youngest one reminded me of her, absolute in everything she decided, no matter how nonsensical. This made her laugh. She said she’d never had children. She had other things to occupy her, all her love and time poured into training instead. We never spoke the word “revolution”, but it was there. We never said “war” either, but I think the word sat bitter on both of our tongues.

We said “goodbye”, though. I didn’t tell her I loved her. The words rose on my tongue, hot as a candle flame, but to speak them aloud and light the air felt like an admittance that we were in darkness. And I could not bring myself to face that. So I said goodbye, and listened in silence for her end of the line to click. It took awhile.

My children came home soon after. My son from school, picking up the younger ones from the neighbors. I made them sandwiches, and I cuddled with them on the couch to watch a movie instead of paying the bills as I had planned to do that evening.

When they begged for another hour up at bedtime, I said okay, to their delight. I even made them cocoa, and my husband and I sipped coffee.

I told him I loved him, and he kissed my forehead.

My daughter, the little one, was the one to call me over to the window.

“Mommy! Look! The stars are moving!” Her eyes sparkled with awe.

We all went up on the roof to watch. I leaned against my husband, and gripped my daughter’s hand. The children thought it was beautiful. I hope that's what they remember, that it was bright and beautiful.

I wondered with every distant explosion whether that was Lila’s ship, shot from the sky.

There were many, many ships. More than I’d anticipated. I suppose I should have seen it coming. I was not the only one bitter, and not everyone was able to look past it and make their jailer’s home their own.

They filled the sky, blasts of shining gold and the glint of rockets, guns firing like distant rumbles of thunder.

The summer heat wrapped around us like a blanket.

If I just closed my eyes, the blazing ships could have been the red morning sun. I tasted dust on the wind, and it was my sister’s warmth against my side.

I wondered if when I opened them, I’d still see a world that shone.