Searching for Sun Chapter Eleven

Publication News!

Excited to announce the ebook for Searching for Sun is live on Amazon: Searching for Sun! The hardback edition will be out in another month, and I have my proof copy ordered. Excited to get to share photos of it soon.

Eleven

Rub the inside of a banana peel over a wart every night and it will go away in a week or two.

—Maxi (Lisk) Four

Cloey’s JPV

The ghosts had planned a celebration after the official planet viewing ceremony banquet. Most of the freezys knew of it but had planned smaller intimate gatherings. The ghosts always partied together, unified.

“Come with me,” Alec smiled, and she could see the challenge in his eyes. “I promise I won’t leave you alone; it won’t be awkward.”

She wanted to scrub the knowing smile from his mouth, “It’s not the people, Alec,” she lied. It was partially the people, the way she would both blend in and stick out. But Alec made that part worse.

“Then what?”

“It’s the cavern, it’s claustrophobic.”

“Well, I want to go,” Cloey popped in, “I love a party.”

Asami sighed.

“Do it for Cloey.” He knew he had already won.

The gathering was in the white hall, what most freezys referred to as the cavern. It was windowless and at the heart of the ship. Asami avoided this space when she could. The lack of windows made her feel trapped, almost landlocked. She peered in through a side door watching the dancing, a herd of perfect-looking ghosts, their flawless arms swaying in the air and that eerie silence as most of the chatter occurred chip to chip. There was music, but the lack of conversation, of voices, was unnerving. The ghosts moved like siblings, each knew the other. She hadn’t expected to feel so much animosity, but she was lonely before she even set foot inside.

A dessert bar lined one wall. Tall, suited androids stationed behind each table deftly filled cups, bowls, and glasses. There were desserts from many Earthen cultures as if the freezys had brought a history party to the planet viewing. Where Asami stood there were sponge cakes with fruit sides, sprinkled raspberries, and jam, tall piles of Earthen dessert tamales—stacks of strawberry, pineapple, or raisin walnut. Asami had tried them all long ago but watched the ghosts near her open the golden-wrapped treats with interest and silent delight.

She perused at a distance, admiring the decadent spread of cheeses and crackers and the full bar. Acquiring a cocktail glass, she indicated that she would like to be served only whipped cream. Unlike Cloey, these androids made no comment on her choice of container or dessert.

She admired the mound of fresh cream. It was all soft rounded edges, the color ivory, and it coated the glass, little air pockets trapped in the folds. She ate a spoonful, a mouthful of sweet air. As a child, when she hadn’t been allowed champagne, Cloey had filled her glass with whipped cream. Asami had sampled all the flavors, a tower of strawberry, pineapple, and chocolate. Cloey had always invented solutions to Asami’s sadness. She twirled the glass now, in her fingertips. It felt more like a symbol of her childhood than something she wanted to eat; she savored the memory. Her mound began to melt in the glass from the heat of bodies in the room, reverting to flavored lukewarm liquid. She set it back down on the edge of the table.

Packs of freezys had gathered by several open doorways, those with close friends who were ghosts, and those who just liked to crash a party. The freezys were all drinking beside the halls as if to conjure a draft. Asami sympathized with the need for space.

“Oh glory,” Cloey clasped her arm and shook it. “Oh, it’s lovely. Look at the decorations Asami. The white cloth streamers are lit with twinkle lights. It’s glistening like a dewy spider’s web, and what’s the plant in the middle? How much of it did they gather to make such a huge square centerpiece in the ceiling?”

“Japanese andromeda dried up pretty.” Asami hadn’t even noticed the décor.

“Well, it outshines the chandelier, I barely noticed it next to that flower piece, and it’s not small either.”

“It will all be recycled once the party is over.”

“Well I’m glad, maybe they will keep the flowers up.”

“It almost resembles a wedding.” Asami looked towards the champagne, maybe she would drink after all. “Odd afterparty.”

“No, no it’s glorious,” Cloey charged forward, immediately engulfed on the dance floor. Asami watched for a moment, half proud as Cloey spiked the energy around her.

“Sami,” Alec had sighted her. He slipped back into his childhood name for her sometimes, often unexpectedly. She wondered if he had remembered her often growing up. How had she left an impression, in those few minutes she had spent with him when he was a little boy? He had befriended her quickly after her last freeze, almost as if he had been waiting for her. He approached with two glasses of champagne.

“To Gliese.”

“Gliese,” Asami touched his glass and sipped, regretting the taste of cream on her tongue as the champagne turned it to oil.

They joined a mixed group beside the hallway. Asami stood beside Ace, one of the few easygoing freezys she liked.

“Another freezy?” Creg, one of Alec’s ghost friends lifted his glass to her, “My condolences on batch three.”

The ghosts said it like that, not using a name to refer to a freezy who had died in the freeze process. She had heard of a death from batch three. His name had been Sean. She had been notified of the loss on her tablet. The freeze serum hadn’t worked on him, his cells unprotected from the ice. It had been an accident and an uncommon one at that. It could have happened to her if she had been given a bad serum.

Some things were not talked of except in glances: bad freeze, malfunctioned. The freezys who appeared to have survived on the outside, except that they had dreams, dreams of a dark, vast chasm, which left a residue of madness behind. Asami knew Cloey had saved her, given her a reason to forget the dreams she was never supposed to have had, at least during the day. She could have been one of them, the ones who went mad, the ones who had to see Heidi every four days for a psych evaluation.

 Even the ghosts were polite enough not to mention a bad freeze, at least to a freezy’s face. But the idea persisted in mixed company as if the ghosts enjoyed the idea that they might be speaking with someone psychotic.

Creg moved on, mingling back into the ghosts.

“Forget about him,” Ace threw an arm around her shoulder. “A few days in the sun and he’ll be losing that fine, even-toned skin. Imagine his surprise when he looks in the mirror and sees a sun spot!”

Alec smiled tolerantly, eyeing Ace’s arm around her shoulders.

The party wore on, and Asami was grateful each time Cloey returned to her like an anchor checking in before Asami had time to feel insecure enough to leave. She had tried to enjoy parties like this before, but she gained no pleasure from being shoved and stepped on in the mosh pit, had trouble breathing in the steamed air, and felt self-conscious standing on the outskirts of the main floor. Alec stayed with her like a second shadow. He was drinking too much, which at least lessened the oppressive expectation to be having fun. She watched him to keep him from running into others and joining the drunken swarm of bodies at the center of the room, a coiling, staggering, sweating mob.

Alec leaned against her shoulder when she steadied him. She couldn’t tell if he was truly drunk, since he was still sharply articulate.

“I’m glad you came, I wanted to spend tonight with my family.” Alec looked at her with overly bright eyes.

“It’s a nice party,” Asami focused on the suspended feeling of spinning inside her mind, uncertain if it was the drink or a lack of oxygen.

“But you’ve made yourself think you’re uncomfortable. I can tell you want to go.” He had that sly, knowing smile on his lips that made her fingers itch to slap him.

“I just don’t like parties.”

“You wish you were with the freezys?” His face went dark.

“Don’t start.”

“You’re more ghost than freezy, you know. You don’t have that edge of superiority. And you’re analytical like us, no stupid outbursts of emotion.”

“Alec, it’s not even important, there is no difference between ghosts and freezys but experience.” Asami detangled herself from him. He was speechmaking.

“The others wear Earth on their skins and pretend to be better. We are better in our own way. We’re not contaminated with thoughts of Earth, with old attachments. We read your history but it's not ours.”

“You’re ranting and it’s going to insult me.”

“Oh, don’t be such a prude. You dislike the snobs as much as I do.”

“You’ve had too much.”

“Quite likely,” he leaned towards her, his arm reaching towards the wall beside her head, caging.

Asami froze, her breath rasping. It was all too tight, too insulated; there was no fresh air, just Alec’s hot and sour breath moving back and forth between their lungs. Alec’s finger was tracing clumsily down her cheek, tracing a freckle. She batted it away.

Ghosts and freezys were glancing their way, eyeing her with amusement. They were the only ones talking out loud, and their voices had carried. Asami pushed at Alec, but he seemed to make himself heavier, his eyes too bright, lustrous with drink. She couldn’t think of what he felt, couldn’t encourage it. She tried to think of something else, like smothering Alec with the decorative drapes.

“Get off,” she barked, throwing as much anger and hardness into her voice and face as she could.

Alec frowned but withdrew a step into a mocking bow. Asami slipped away, stepping out into the hall beyond the reach of pedestrian glances.

“Wait,” Alec had followed and clasped her arm, his face flushed. She dreaded what his next words might be.

“I think I’ve had enough of your party,” she let a snarl enter her voice, keeping her eyes hard.

Cloey was beside her like a hound smelling its master’s fear.

“You smashed, Alec?” She planted an iron arm on his chest.

“Indeed I am,” he laughed, color high in his cheeks as he pried his hand from Asami’s forearm as if it were difficult to remove his fingers before walking backwards into the hall and the welcoming mob. “Run away then, Asami, it’s what you’re good at.”

“What’s got him goofed?” Cloey asked.

Asami stood for a moment wrapping her arms around her small friend’s frame to help counter that sickly feeling building in her gut. It was the one conversation she would never have with Cloey, not about Alec, not when Cloey was in love with him. Maybe she was a coward for not talking it over with Alec. But he wouldn’t want to hear she saw him as a kid. Maybe she was scared of losing someone she loved again, but moon’s breath, she wasn’t going to be bullied into feeling a drop of desire for anyone until she wanted it.

She squeezed Cloey tightly again. It was a little like hugging a badly padded rock but at least it was a familiar and safe rock.

“Same sad old story, we all had too much to drink. Alec might have had more than too much.”

“You too?”

“Oh yes. If I were sober I’d have left a long time ago.”

The next morning, Asami went to the looking room after her interview with Heidi. She visited the room when she wanted to process something. Talks with Heidi usually ended with Asami hiding on the sofa, staring at stars while words tumbled in her ears. Built on the top floor, it was a room surrounded by windows. She was comforted to see outside the ship and notice their movement, and not just hear of it. Only now, their ship moved slowly, circling their planet far below.

“Asami, when do you think you will be ready to let go of Cloey? She’s not a substitute for real human attachment.” Heidi had asked this like an inevitable step in the process of growing up. Asami had thought she was already grown.

“I’ve made friends.”

“You’ve made a few friends, yes, but do you confide in them? Other than Erika, do you even like them?”

They aren't family, Asami thought, but said, “Of course.”

“Maybe it would be healthy to spend time away from Cloey. Do things with just your friends. Fall in love with someone, experience life a little.”

Asami had never understood the need for people to fall in love so trivially, like it was a temporary experience, like visiting a new city, seeing the ocean for the first time. She had come close to love, to attraction, and losing Sam had burned any desire out of her.

How could she open herself up to that much joy, let her insides flutter, let her mind get consumed with another person, when they could be so easily snatched away, when she had so little control already over her future, her life. When they were about to land on a planet of the dead. It seemed irresponsible and cruel that Heidi could prescribe the process of falling in love to her like it was a dose of medicine.

Asami curled up on a vacant couch in view of a full wall window. She chose a seat facing away from Gliese. That view was crowded and would only put more thoughts on her overloaded mind. Once they landed she might never see space like this again. She looked backward at the path they had taken to get here and let her thoughts pool, imagining them floating out into the vastness before her. Nebulous clusters of stars blurred before her eyes. The colors of space were endless. Pink gasses floated amongst orange splashes. Blue, pure, almost white-blue everywhere, winking. Colors blanketed in blackness, a negative space that wasn’t black at all, just untouched in her eyes by light.

Dreams here were quiet and infinite because her mind could stretch out into the emptiness, embracing her place in the spinning world.

A step beside her head roused her. Asami knew it was Alec by the scrape of his feet. She suppressed a stab of unease knowing he had come to apologize. Nothing else would motivate him to visit this room.

“You weren’t in your room.”

“Yes, sometimes I go places,” Asami said, and then relented. “I had a meeting with Heidi.”

“You find her more intimidating than you should.”

Asami suppressed an eye roll. Alec could be a real know-it-all, but he wasn’t wrong. “She wants to fix me.”

“That’s sort of her job,” Alec had a nervous tic bouncing his knee against the back of the couch.

“She isn’t doing a very good job.”

“Don’t let her scare you. They need us more than we need them.”

Asami let him think. She studied the flash of light beyond the window. She felt him breathe in and anticipated his words as they rushed out shorter than his exhale.

“I was a jerk.”

“You were.”

“Yeah.”

“A real toe-head,” Asami added.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, a fat-head.”

“It’s not that fat.”

“All blubbery fat.”

“Hey!” Alec self-consciously brushed at his forehead.

Asami relented slightly, sat up, and patted the seat beside her.

“Why do you come up here?” Alec asked.

Asami disliked the change in subject but let it pass since he had made the effort to visit her even in a place he hated. He was uncomfortable with windows. She noticed he often preferred to sit between people and not on the aisle end of a chair or bench. He placed his back towards solid walls. She had the sense that when he looked out a window he was looking at the glass surface between the two places.

“I sleep well here,” Asami said.

“What is it that you find comforting? It seems so open.”

“I can breathe here. I know it’s a lie but it feels like there is freshness up here. Maybe it’s the chilly air.”

“I thought you freezys liked heat.”

“The cold reminds me of wind. I feel like my cells are healing here.”

“Healing from what?” he peered at her clinically.

“I feel like I will wake up one day and see an old woman, like my cells will catch up with me.”

He smiled bemusedly at her.

Asami ignored it, “I look young, but my cells are old.” Looking at Alec, she worried what would happen when they landed. If the ghosts were phobic of nature, what would they do on a planet almost devoid of human touch? The simulations of wilderness weren't enough. None of the ghosts enjoyed the sessions or survival lessons. Asami found these drills simplistic, but Alec would look about with intense concentration, eyes searching the trees that were not even real trees as if determined to pass a test. The trees looked real, but Asami had always been able to smell the difference.

“You’re not much older than me,” Alec liked to find similarities between them almost as much as he liked to rub in their differences.

“It’s strange, seeing Heidi and everyone so old. My supervisor was only a few years my senior and now she’s a complete stranger. The first time we met, you were a baby. I’m displaced.”

“You’re special,” Alec said, and Asami wished he hadn’t tried to be comforting.

“I’ve been kept still.”

“You’re important. The older ones need us for this mission. We’re different from them. Let them grow old. They will have their way for a time, but the world will ultimately be ours. We were born with a purpose, we are the lucky ones. I’ve read some of Earth’s literature, so many coming-of-age stories. We don’t have to strive and fight to make something of ourselves. We don’t have to invent ourselves. We are who we are. We are born into our jobs.”

Alec felt so certain he was right, so certain it was good, so certain that it wasn’t part of what the older ones had meant to happen. Asami wondered at it, how he could be so sure, how he didn’t grieve for lost possibilities.

It was as though he viewed his occupation as a blood tie. Born a brother, sister, a role unquestioned. Asami wished she felt so at home in her own skin. I’m defective, she thought, though she would never say it to him—I’m like a piece of equipment and you’re the new model.

Alec froze, rigid beside her.

Asami twisted to look at her tablet for the update. The announcement called for boarding parties.

They were going planet-side.

Alec rose to his feet, dragging Asami up off the couch and grinning at her wildly.

“We’re going home.” Alec’s smile was infectious, childish.

 Asami felt herself mirror the expression, her hand tousling his hair. “You owe me twenty credits.”