Maryssa Olinkava was the last one to be accommodated. As the Super Balance Suit (commonly referred to as Subasuit) had replaced clothes, shoes, toiletries, and of course, books, there were no personal belongings to carry, not even when relocating to another planet. Thus, she’d brought only one thing of her own: a tiny metal sculpture of a dragonfly seated on a feather. It had been given to her by a friend many years ago, and she had always kept it with her as a reminder of her creative nature, her true self. She put it on the desk opposite the couch and sat down. The space ferry captain remained standing. In this alien place that was to be her home, it was good to see his reassuring smile, the warm eyes framed by white hair, and a beard.
‘So, here you are. How does it feel?’
‘Better than the one on the ferry, that’s for sure.’
He took a moment to understand.
‘Ah, the couch. That is a good start. I’m glad. And otherwise?’
‘Well, I think that’s a little bit early to answer. But I guess I’m all set.’
‘But are you sure?’
What a question to ask. How on Earth am I supposed to be sure?
‘Miss Olinkava, I realize this is the difficult part. Of course, you cannot know. I wouldn’t if I were in your shoes. And believe me, if it was up to me, I would give you much longer to decide. But, as we both know, my hands are tied by the protocol. So, I actually need you to confirm for me that you are hundred percent sure. This is your last chance to change your mind. I’m sorry...’
‘Oh… yes, of course, I understand. I am… good. I am staying in Alportado as agreed. Definitely.’
He clapped his hands together.
‘Thank you, thank you so much. For confirmation and also… You may not see it this way but to me… you are my heroes, those of you coming here. And…’
He shook his head and cleared his throat.
‘I’ll never get used to this part… Anyhow, mission control will be in touch with you over your Subasuit radio daily in the beginning and, after that, weekly. And, of course, you can connect with your colleagues here anytime. And again, forgive me for rushing through it, but I need to be sure I get to the other outposts in time.’
‘I know… I have prepared for this, and I’ll be fine. Good travels to everyone. And thank you, captain.’
‘Well… You take care!’
MARYSSA STAYED IN HER dome right until the sound of the ferry was gone. Only then did she go out in the open. The gravity here was enormous; every step was heavy and slow, but her heart felt light.
So open. There is nothing but space here. I have all this for myself.
This was not completely true, there were a dozen other solo colonists, plus the central dome where they were meant to work, but all of it was so far away that it didn’t mean anything. She was alone, at last.
Despite what the well-meaning official had said when it all started, the impossible was possible. She remembered every word of that particular conversation:
‘Alone’ is one of the luxuries planet Earth no longer offers, Miss Olinkava. We all have to adapt, and you know it.’
‘Sure, but…’
‘This is the highest level of harmony humanity has ever experienced. Ever! We have to keep it that way. We were so close to annihilation. We cannot risk it happening again.’
‘I understand that. But I cannot change who I am. I’m sorry…’ She was irritated and frustrated, not really sorry.
‘With all due respect, Miss Olinkava, you can change. And you will have to like we all do.’
AS IT TURNED OUT, instead of changing herself, she stood here. As if released from a life sentence. There were tears in Maryssa’s eyes. But before she knew it, the Subasuit was already doing its job. A moment later, her eyes were pleasantly dry, like it had never happened.
On Earth, they keep everything wet; here, you don’t even get to feel the wetness of your tears. She shook her head and decided to walk a bit longer. Just because she could, for the pure joy of it. So different from how it had become on Earth, where walking, or more precisely marching, became something to be done for health, not pleasure.
But that was then. Now she was here as one of the few people invited to spend two Earth years on Alportado, test the life-sustaining suits, and find out whether the barren planet could indeed be turned into a viable colony.
Or rather, that was the job description they gave her. Personally, and even transpersonally, Maryssa had a different agenda. To live in her own space, in her own way. To let go of everything so that something new could begin.
She understood that it could only happen by adhering to the schedule they assigned her. Fortunately, her rebellious nature had softened with age and made it easier for her to compromise. It was a small price to pay for the freedom she’d gained. The freedom to be alone. It’s not that she didn’t like people. It’s just that at this point in her life, her need for solitude had grown so big that nothing else mattered quite as much. The plan was working.
HOWEVER, THINGS DID did not turn out quite as she thought they would. She didn’t expect it would take only a few weeks to fully satisfy her need for space and stillness. After that, the next thing she discovered was the emptiness within herself. It did not feel spacious. It was more like a vacuum, craving to be filled with something.
It confused and unsettled her, but fortunately, those who designed the entire project had predicted it would happen. And, with their usual attention to detail, they provided a solution: the Subasuit was equipped with a number of internal Virtual Reality programs for entertainment, and also because keeping the human senses stimulated was important for overall balance, physical and mental.
Maryssa enjoyed it, to begin with. While the Subasuit was cleaning her skin on microscopic levels, she would choose an old-fashioned virtual shower, Jacuzzi, or tropical rain. While perfectly balanced nourishment was flowing into her veins from within the closed-circuit wonder of a machine, she tried any illusion of food and drink she desired. While lying on her couch and letting the system massage her muscles, she experienced floating in the Dead Sea, skiing through wild Alaska, or taking a long drive through the wilderness of the African savanna.
But then, it didn’t quite work for her. We made sure of it. And so, as much as Maryssa wanted it to, she couldn’t fully immerse herself in the illusion. Part of her could not be cheated. No matter how much the wild bear roared, she still knew it could not harm her. No matter what her senses seemed to tell her, she could still tell the difference. This was all happening in her own mind, not in the real world. It was an essential lesson for her to learn, even if it was not included in the official curriculum.
Is my old computer expert getting in the way? She wondered.
When Maryssa was young, she was one of the first leading AI Artificial Intelligence specialists. Back then, she was so fascinated by it that she believed she loved the work. She thought it would be her career for life.
But her body and her soul thought differently. Along the way, she became allergic to anything digital. Or at least, that was the only explanation that was available to her, as staring at a computer monitor for more than 30 minutes made Maryssa sick with vertigo. A highly unfortunate reaction, so it would seem, in a culture that had gone digital through and through in order to preserve nature and the planet. In truth, something else was happening. Inconvenient as it was, her special talent for discerning fake from real was working as it was meant to. This was the first step of a very long quest. A gift was emerging, not an illness.
ONCE SHE REALIZED that there was no way for her to continue in her AI job and no way to stop digitalization from transforming the world, art became her recluse. Previously art was but an interesting hobby, but now it has become Maryssa’s very reason for living. She could disappear for hours and days in writing, drawing, and sometimes making paper sculptures.
She would joke about it when talking with the few other artists she met. ‘I went from artificial to art. Now I’m a paper fetishist, and I can’t get enough of it. Any kind of paper will do.’
But there was more to it. Maryssa’s rich and complex personality was not easy to live with, not even for herself. She needed an outlet for the waves of intense emotions and ideas running through her, a way to express herself and a way to focus. At the time, working on and with paper was the only way she knew to do it. So much so that when all forms of paper were withdrawn from the stores, she turned to more shady exchanges.
But when even the black market ran out of natural paper, there was only one thing for Maryssa to do: learn to work with digital replacements.
She wanted to, for the sake of her own peace. The new materials were, after all, highly developed substitutes; most people wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. She, however, could not only tell the difference, she was unable to ignore it.
It had been the same in her teens when vinyl records were being replaced by CDs. It was a welcome revolution to others, but she could always hear the difference. So much so that she stopped enjoying music. But she still had songs in her.
To Maryssa, singing, writing, or drawing digitally was like speaking with a mask on. The sounds, words, and colors were there, but the breath of life did not get through. Without it, what was the point?
And as paper disappeared from the Earth, so did Maryssa’s art.
‘THIS IS THE ONLY way we can prevent the planet from destruction,’ she heard the official media say over and over. She actually believed them but believing it didn’t change a thing. She could no longer feel the poetry of life that she had always sensed, even in the worst of times. She could not live without it.
To keep herself sane, she needed the practice to hold on to, and so she invented one: walking for hours and hours, contemplating everything she saw on her way, and then describing it for herself as if creating it anew.
For once, the digital era was on her side, protecting her from other people’s judgment. Those who saw her in the streets just assumed she was using her headset on a call with someone. But she was speaking to herself.
She would have preferred to walk in nature, but by then, as things had developed, the only way to do that was to participate in the scheduled group exercises initiated during the pandemics. But even in the parks, there was the ever-present smell of humidity. As if everything was subtly rotting.
AND NOW, IN THIS so-called Super Balance Suit, there is no smell at all. The thought brought Maryssa back to where she was. Maybe that’s better than sniffing flowers that don’t exist? How about I turn the darn VR off once and for all.
The thought of doing so made her diaphragm tense up, her breath shorten, and her heartbeat speed up. Even before the Subasuit notified her of it, she could feel it.
If Yousra, the psychologist, was here, she would have said:
‘It’s Okay. Fear is human. In this room, everything is allowed.’
But without the VR, Maryssa’s room would be completely empty. Or so she thought.
And then what?
Maybe, for once, I should try the middle way instead of driving myself to the edge.
And so, while she decided not to use the full VR system, Maryssa decided to explore the only simulation-free entertainment available, namely the modern history podcasts.
Perhaps, she admonished herself. It will give me perspective. Perhaps I am just confused by my own reactions. I’m old enough to stop being against everything. I can at least give it a try.
She fast-forwarded through the first decades. The polarization, the insufficient political response to climate change. And then the fires, randomly intensifying all around the globe. She remembered that horrible time when whatever could burn would burn.
As if Gaia was having outbursts of anger or fever.
That’s what it took to make politicians react. It was also why everything flammable was forbidden and eventually disappeared. Paperless living became a reality, and with that, Maryssa could no longer express herself through her art. As the worst disasters were being prevented to preserve the life of the planet, she found herself descending into depression. The walks helped, but they could not stop it.
‘Earth survived thanks to the monumental effort of all governments, united at last to create the new era, The Equilibrium,’ the speaker continued. ‘With the new humidified balance, the fires and the extreme weather stopped.
Is Gaia content or just pacified, like we are? Maryssa wondered.
‘By then, there were huge zones set aside on Earth for nature to regain its own balance. No human was allowed there, not on the ground, not in the air. Only some relatively small zones could be reserved for human occupation.’
‘But even so, this was a fragile balance. Humans had to learn to live in large communities with limited space and resources. Even more so, because before we got it under control, the world population exploded. With the new healthy balance, human life span expanded quickly.’
Maybe it would have been better if my life span had stayed short, like in the old days. But of course, she didn’t have the right perspective on that. She could not look into the future.
‘All in all, high levels of collaboration and adaptation were now necessary, not just between governments, but between all humans, all individuals.’
I have always been too individualistic for that, Maryssa thought.
‘At the core of the progress was the principle of closed circuits for local balance. It was also what led to the breakthrough in space travel. Rather than building livable areas on other planets (as we had planned on Mars earlier), we could create a suit that would be the perfect, complete environment for anyone wearing it. Now it was just a matter of transportation to other planets. Life would sustain itself within each individual suit. And each planet we went to could be its own self-sustainable world.’
Like this cosmic retirement home…
IRONY ASIDE, MARYSSA was genuinely grateful for the free space, for the very doable level of assignments here, and for finally being left in peace, more or less.
When they offered her the chance to be one among just a handful of mature, best-suited (no pun intended) pioneers (the word spoke to her vanity, she couldn’t deny it), on a newly discovered planet, so far away that there would be almost no communication with Earth… It felt like a door to freedom. And it was. Even if in a different way than she had anticipated.
But first, there had to be the necessary physical tests, training, and legal agreements. On the positive side, there had been surprisingly good conversations with the psychologist. Yusra was able to make Maryssa relax and open up. There was a special connection between them, even if none of them ever spoke about it directly.
‘What will you miss?’ was one of Yousra’s questions.
At the time, nothing came to mind except what she had missed already and would never get back because, by now, Earth itself had become a different planet. No more crisp air. Or snow. Or standing among trees without flocks of strangers trespassing. No long trips to unknown destinations in half-empty trains. No writing on real paper with a fountain pen. No more inspiration flowing.
‘I already miss my writing and my painting so much… How could it get any worse?’ Maryssa cried in frustration. Yousra’s eyes shined with compassion, but she didn’t say anything. Later, she continued with the next question on the list, as she had to.
‘What do you hope this mission will give you?’
‘I hope experiencing something new will help me focus again. And I get to be alone!’
And this I am. Alone. Lost in her memories, Maryssa hadn’t even noticed when the last episode in the history series stopped. Now there was only the harmonious background music. Muzak. She turned it off and promised herself to keep it that way.
THE PHYSICAL TRAINING, the functionality monitoring and reporting, and the daily trip to the dome to run the designated tests and experiments all required some focus. But otherwise, to Maryssa, the days here were all alike. They all kept polite distance from each other, even during team exercises. Seeing the open space around her was so thrilling, to begin with, but now resulting in increasing boredom. Even the VR, which she turned back on for a while just to see if that would lighten her up, couldn’t change it. And she still had most of the two years in front of her.
As on Earth, so on Alportado, Maryssa thought, full of dread. Except, now there is nowhere else to go, nothing more to hope for. My soul is starving. Why does nothing fulfill me anymore?
She didn’t expect an answer, but it came to her anyway.
Because you cannot breathe in without exhaling. Without expression, there is no space for inspiration.
Her artist self knew it to be true.
I need a practice to commit to, but there’s nothing to do here.
Where pace was dictated by gravity and not by mood and need, the walking practice would not satisfy her, she knew that.
How am I to express myself here? Or find inspiration?
What Maryssa didn’t know was that the ground was ready for a new seed.
‘Only memories remain…’
Where did that song come from? I don’t remember… I must have heard it a long time ago, Maryssa thought. Now I really feel like the old woman I am.
The seed was planted, and it grew fast.
SHORTLY AFTER, MARYSSA founded her new practice. Just like she used to spend her evenings writing or drawing and, later, her afternoons walking, she would now take time to contemplate her memories. Even if she had no means to draw them, she was recreating her life in her imagination, with as much detail as she could. And even if there was no way to write them down, she was speaking her memories aloud. She made sure that the internal recording pad was not transmitting.
This was completely new to her. She had never been the type to dwell in the past. By nature, she was far more interested in creating, maybe even inventing for the future. But here, now, revisiting her past felt exciting and refreshing.
At first, she tried to review her life chronologically. But after a while, she surrendered to whatever memories popped up for her, in whatever random order. Of course, it wasn’t random at all. It was a journey, and she was quick to recognize it as such. Even if she didn’t know yet what the journey really was about, the artist in Maryssa was waking up.
She was noticing how memories were layered in her body as much as in her mind and how her senses were coming to life as well. It was a much more subtle experience than with the VR, but also much more real. She loved to re-imagine the harshness of a rainy night, equally unpleasant and sweet because she was on her way home. Because there would be dry logs in the iron hearth, hot black tea, a notebook, and crumpled paper, old drafts of her writing to start the fire.
YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT you’ve got until you lose it. This song was old even when she was still writing, still had her spacious house and garden, and friends that visited. Before the relocations started.
‘Miss Olinkava, we all have to share our limited space. You do understand the necessity. You will have to move to a smaller place.’
So she did. After that, she had to move again and again until she was down to a 90-square-foot shed. But even this was a temporary solution. Her permanent home had to be in a community.
Maryssa tried desperately to remain well-behaved and to make them understand.
‘It’s not that I don’t want to cooperate. It’s just that to me, a community is like a noisy beehive. It stresses me out.’
‘Isn’t a little extra noise a small price to pay for all the benefits of honey, Miss Olinkava?’
‘But it’s all too close, all too busy, all too sticky….’
She regretted it immediately. I shouldn’t have spoken in metaphors. He doesn’t get it.
‘What I meant to say is, can we please try to find a practical solution that I can live with?’
What she wanted was to be left in peace. Eventually, it was what she got. Just not peace on Earth.
She remembered how enthusiastically they introduced it to her.
‘Great news! We have a solution just for you. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!’
Just like death, she thought, but she wisely kept that to herself. They would misunderstand. And, she had to admit, it did feel exciting.
Why they let her go, she wasn’t sure. She suspected it was because she was useless in the new era of optimal collective balance.
But there was more to it. And in any case, they couldn’t give her the real reasons. It was out of their hands.
‘We understand that as an artist, you feel differently. And we want to offer the best possible for people like you too.’
Maybe they even mean it. Maybe they actually do their best. She wasn’t sure what to believe. Their words or her feelings?
‘I STILL DON’T KNOW what to believe. But I did get a whole new planet for myself,’ Maryssa whispered.
‘Why am I not happy?’
At that moment, her Pandora box opened. Now, the memories creeping out of the dark were the ones she did not want to look at.
She had never experienced anything close to lasting happiness. Happiness would come, feel like magic, and then, just as she was beginning to trust it, leave without explanation. All the ways in which she had been met and loved only to be abandoned (so she believed). All the highs were followed by crashes. Even her art had deserted her.
All she had left was the one question lingering beneath it all:
Why? What is wrong with me?
And after all these years, she still didn’t have an answer.
What is the point of remembering all this?
‘This is the practice,’ she said aloud, with the same single-mindedness that she would apply to her art. Which, she admitted to herself, had its ups and downs as well. That was why she loved it, in a way. It was always changing, wild and unpredictable, never the same. The exact opposite of how she experienced life now: constant and heavy.
As if searching for something to support her, Maryssa looked at the tiny dragonfly and feather on her desk, her reminder of lightness and creativity.
At that moment, the memory of a music album showed up in her imagination, George Harrison’s ‘All Things Must Pass.’ With all the vividness the weeks of memory practice had developed in her, she could almost feel her fingers taking the LP out of its cover, smell the wooden box of her old turntable, see the needle right above the last track, hear the song in her mind.
‘But it’s not always going
To be this grey
All things must pass
All things must pass away.’
The voice was so soft, so peaceful, yet in her, it felt like claws piercing her heart, scratching her throat.
‘This will never pass!’ she cried.
At that moment, Maryssa believed there was no hope left for her. What she wanted no longer existed. Not even in her memories.
Memories or VR? It’s all just stories. It won’t change anything.
She believed she was back to square one and stuck there forever. She was down on her knees.
‘You won’t let me live, you don’t let me die!’ she screamed, but her voice was being muffled by the Subasuit. It hurt so much; she couldn’t breathe. Only the Subasuit ensured she breathed anyhow. She was weeping, and her tears were being automatically dried. Tiredness came like an avalanche. But it wouldn’t bury her. It wouldn’t let her sleep. She couldn’t take one more second of this, and still, she knew this would not pass.
She didn’t have one ounce of energy left in her. There was nothing she could do other than give up and just be there. And since there was nothing more to do, nothing more to wait for, Maryssa was simply present. With nothing to distract her, it felt as if her senses were becoming more alert with every breath she took. She could feel every tired bone in her body. She could discern every nuance of the humming of a distant scooter. She could see even the slightest patterns on the wall of her dome.
Is it the Subasuit doing it? No, it came from deeper within. It came along with the unobstructed pain in her heart.
And right there, while she could sense the physical world more distinctly than ever, Maryssa noticed that something felt even more real. In less than a moment, while nothing had changed, nothing was the same.
But this shift was no illusion. This was more real than anything she had ever experienced in her entire life. Her eyes were discovering colors that she didn’t have words for, which had been there all the time, only invisible to her.
The beauty of it. Out of the blue, waterfalls of love.
Boundless silence that held her and all sounds.
Joy flowing, expanding, shining.
‘This is all here for us. Nothing was ever missing,’ Maryssa whispered.
The wonder of it made her cry and laugh at the same time. Life was rushing through her and stood still, as open as the entire universe.
Maryssa was free. The pain was gone. She was gone. She was nothing, and she was everything. This was the truth, and she finally recognized it as such. This was what she had always longed for, on Earth and beyond Earth, in art and in people. Now it came to her.
‘Out of this world,’ she sighed and smiled at how exact she was in her thinking for once. Time stood still and passed, and the miracle of it unfolded right until Maryssa fell asleep.
WHEN SHE WOKE UP again, the feeling was far less intense. She was her human self again, enclosed by her Subasuit in her private dome. And yet everything was different. Because now that she had made space for it, she joy-filled it. Joy permeated everything.
It took a few more days for Maryssa to trust it. To discover that she could feel joy while leading her normal life, with exercise, meetings, reports, emptiness, VR or no VR, memories or no memories, longings or no longings.
It took a few weeks to discover that it was all up to her. That boredom was caused not by what she was doing or not doing but by an unconscious habit of concealing and disconnecting from the joy that had its home in the core of her soul.
And so, Maryssa’s new practice became to keep returning to joy. Day by day, week by week, month by month, the connection grew stronger.
Every day she discovered anew that she already had everything she needed. Yes, she would love to write and draw again. But then, being unable to do so inspired her creativity to seek new channels for expression. She couldn’t put it into words yet. But something was definitely in the making.
It was almost like having found a new switch in her Subasuit. ‘The joy switch, ha-ha.’ She was often laughing now for the silliest of reasons.
She still loved to be alone, but now she liked other people more. She noticed them and cared for no particular reason. There was a relationship there, a sense of belonging. The other settlers’ attitudes towards her were changing accordingly without her doing anything special about it. When they met in the big dome, they were drawn to her. Both she and they were a bit shy about it; they were all loners, after all. But Maryssa sensed potential in this too.
THE WEEKLY CHECK-INS with Earth were business as usual. She had nothing new to report, not to them. But she was more at ease with them now. After all, they just wanted to make sure everything was alright. It certainly was.
And so, on this particular day, when she heard the usual signal for a call, she opened the connection without hesitation.
‘Miss Olinkava? Maryssa Olinkava?’
‘Of course, who else would it be? Surprise, surprise.’ She laughed.
There was a moment of silence. Voices in the background.
‘Yes, yes, we’re through!’
‘Yes, you’re through, like you are every week. Are you new to the job?’
‘No, this is a different job altogether… Miss Olinkava, let me introduce myself and our network. We are–’
‘What network?’
‘Miss Olinkava, we are not mission control. My name is Kadin and–’
‘I think I misheard. Could you repeat, please?’
‘Miss Olinkava, we are not mission control!’
‘What does that mean? What has changed?’
‘Oh, nothing is changing with mission control. I’m sure they will connect with you like they do every week. We are not them. We have… a different invitation for you.’
He, or she, or them, Maryssa wasn’t sure, was speaking fast, the way young people do. She could almost see them pacing back and forth and gesticulating. She could feel her own curiosity buzzing in response.
‘An invitation? We don’t get many of them here, ha-ha. But how were you able to call me? I didn’t even know that was possible.’
‘Well, they don’t know that it’s possible either, but we do. In the old days, you would call us hackers. We’re the good kind. We call ourselves The Explorers and–’
‘Good hackers… I like that. But last time I was on Earth, there was nothing there left to explore.’
‘I’m afraid that hasn’t changed, madam, but we explore other possibilities, so to speak...’
‘I guess that’s what we are to do here on Alportado too.’
‘Yes, but that’s not what I meant… You see… Can I count on your discretion?’
‘Sure. Can I count on yours?’ She was only playing; discretion didn’t really matter to her. She had nothing to lose.
‘Absolutely! Do you know that the actual purpose of Alportado is to put opponents of the system to work for it anyhow? To use you to prepare for future colonization? And also to silence you and make you want to return to the Equilibrium and live like everyone else. Well, we question the validity of the Equilibrium itself. We don’t only hack technology. We hack life, in a sense. We get so many ideas we can hardly keep up with even the download speed, but the short version is…We know that the artificial balance is killing the planet, and humanity too, just slower, in less visible ways.’
‘Yes, yes, right? It’s like when they want art to be balanced. That’s like clipping a bird’s wings and still expecting it to fly.’
‘Exactly, and there are better ways. There always have been, but the government is afraid of change. They’re holding on to what they have achieved as if it was the only way. If we wait for them to wake up, we could wait forever.’
‘Yes, I see that too. But I wouldn’t know what to do about it. I have seen wars in my time, and I don’t want that.’
‘We don’t want violence either. We’ll share our ideas with you later. But the essence of it is: we are building a network across the globe and now beyond. That’s why I’m reaching out to you. We need people like you with us… Miss Olinkava, we have been watching you. We know you’re not like most people. You are unique in your way of living, and you are also an elder. We think you can help us.’
Tears came to her eyes. She had learned to feel them even as the Subasuit dried them immediately. For her, they flowed freely.
It was as if she had sent a message in a bottle, and just as she forgot all about it, someone picked it up.
‘We think… Because you were on Earth throughout all the changes, you know things that are not included in the Equilibrium history. We hope you can give us details that are not being preserved by the system… Oh, on that note, forgive me for asking, Miss Olinkava, but how is your memory at this point? How well do you remember your life?’
Oh. Oh. Was this what it had been all about? A preparation?
‘Ha, my memory has never been better. It is absolutely outstanding, if I may say so, down to the smallest details. That won’t be a problem. And I would love to help. In fact, I also have something else I would like to share with you. Like, a new super-power.’
She smiled.
‘Wow, that’s amazing. Is it something you discovered with the Super Balance Suit?’
‘No, it’s the one thing that doesn’t come with the suit. But I found it, and I would love more people to know about it… That would be such fun!’
‘Fun…? Miss Olinkava, do you understand how dangerous this is? This may be a well-meaning technocracy, but it’s still just that. If they discover what we’re up to and that you are part of it… You could be in serious trouble!’
‘Oh, I understand the gravity of it completely. Look, I will support you with all my heart. You can count on me. But no matter how serious this is, I intend to enjoy it. That’s just how it is when you’re dealing with a retired troublemaker, ha-ha.’
There was a moment of silence. Maryssa could feel Kadin being stopped in his own stream of thoughts and taking her words in. Then, there was a sigh. And then, at last, laughter. All the way from Earth to her and back.
‘This is going to be good,’ she said as she looked at the dragonfly.
‘Better than the one on the ferry, that’s for sure.’
He took a moment to understand.
‘Ah, the couch. That is a good start. I’m glad. And otherwise?’
‘Well, I think that’s a little bit early to answer. But I guess I’m all set.’
‘But are you sure?’
What a question to ask. How on Earth am I supposed to be sure?
‘Miss Olinkava, I realize this is the difficult part. Of course, you cannot know. I wouldn’t if I were in your shoes. And believe me, if it was up to me, I would give you much longer to decide. But, as we both know, my hands are tied by the protocol. So, I actually need you to confirm for me that you are hundred percent sure. This is your last chance to change your mind. I’m sorry...’
‘Oh… yes, of course, I understand. I am… good. I am staying in Alportado as agreed. Definitely.’
He clapped his hands together.
‘Thank you, thank you so much. For confirmation and also… You may not see it this way but to me… you are my heroes, those of you coming here. And…’
He shook his head and cleared his throat.
‘I’ll never get used to this part… Anyhow, mission control will be in touch with you over your Subasuit radio daily in the beginning and, after that, weekly. And, of course, you can connect with your colleagues here anytime. And again, forgive me for rushing through it, but I need to be sure I get to the other outposts in time.’
‘I know… I have prepared for this, and I’ll be fine. Good travels to everyone. And thank you, captain.’
‘Well… You take care!’
MARYSSA STAYED IN HER dome right until the sound of the ferry was gone. Only then did she go out in the open. The gravity here was enormous; every step was heavy and slow, but her heart felt light.
So open. There is nothing but space here. I have all this for myself.
This was not completely true, there were a dozen other solo colonists, plus the central dome where they were meant to work, but all of it was so far away that it didn’t mean anything. She was alone, at last.
Despite what the well-meaning official had said when it all started, the impossible was possible. She remembered every word of that particular conversation:
‘Alone’ is one of the luxuries planet Earth no longer offers, Miss Olinkava. We all have to adapt, and you know it.’
‘Sure, but…’
‘This is the highest level of harmony humanity has ever experienced. Ever! We have to keep it that way. We were so close to annihilation. We cannot risk it happening again.’
‘I understand that. But I cannot change who I am. I’m sorry…’ She was irritated and frustrated, not really sorry.
‘With all due respect, Miss Olinkava, you can change. And you will have to like we all do.’
AS IT TURNED OUT, instead of changing herself, she stood here. As if released from a life sentence. There were tears in Maryssa’s eyes. But before she knew it, the Subasuit was already doing its job. A moment later, her eyes were pleasantly dry, like it had never happened.
On Earth, they keep everything wet; here, you don’t even get to feel the wetness of your tears. She shook her head and decided to walk a bit longer. Just because she could, for the pure joy of it. So different from how it had become on Earth, where walking, or more precisely marching, became something to be done for health, not pleasure.
But that was then. Now she was here as one of the few people invited to spend two Earth years on Alportado, test the life-sustaining suits, and find out whether the barren planet could indeed be turned into a viable colony.
Or rather, that was the job description they gave her. Personally, and even transpersonally, Maryssa had a different agenda. To live in her own space, in her own way. To let go of everything so that something new could begin.
She understood that it could only happen by adhering to the schedule they assigned her. Fortunately, her rebellious nature had softened with age and made it easier for her to compromise. It was a small price to pay for the freedom she’d gained. The freedom to be alone. It’s not that she didn’t like people. It’s just that at this point in her life, her need for solitude had grown so big that nothing else mattered quite as much. The plan was working.
HOWEVER, THINGS DID did not turn out quite as she thought they would. She didn’t expect it would take only a few weeks to fully satisfy her need for space and stillness. After that, the next thing she discovered was the emptiness within herself. It did not feel spacious. It was more like a vacuum, craving to be filled with something.
It confused and unsettled her, but fortunately, those who designed the entire project had predicted it would happen. And, with their usual attention to detail, they provided a solution: the Subasuit was equipped with a number of internal Virtual Reality programs for entertainment, and also because keeping the human senses stimulated was important for overall balance, physical and mental.
Maryssa enjoyed it, to begin with. While the Subasuit was cleaning her skin on microscopic levels, she would choose an old-fashioned virtual shower, Jacuzzi, or tropical rain. While perfectly balanced nourishment was flowing into her veins from within the closed-circuit wonder of a machine, she tried any illusion of food and drink she desired. While lying on her couch and letting the system massage her muscles, she experienced floating in the Dead Sea, skiing through wild Alaska, or taking a long drive through the wilderness of the African savanna.
But then, it didn’t quite work for her. We made sure of it. And so, as much as Maryssa wanted it to, she couldn’t fully immerse herself in the illusion. Part of her could not be cheated. No matter how much the wild bear roared, she still knew it could not harm her. No matter what her senses seemed to tell her, she could still tell the difference. This was all happening in her own mind, not in the real world. It was an essential lesson for her to learn, even if it was not included in the official curriculum.
Is my old computer expert getting in the way? She wondered.
When Maryssa was young, she was one of the first leading AI Artificial Intelligence specialists. Back then, she was so fascinated by it that she believed she loved the work. She thought it would be her career for life.
But her body and her soul thought differently. Along the way, she became allergic to anything digital. Or at least, that was the only explanation that was available to her, as staring at a computer monitor for more than 30 minutes made Maryssa sick with vertigo. A highly unfortunate reaction, so it would seem, in a culture that had gone digital through and through in order to preserve nature and the planet. In truth, something else was happening. Inconvenient as it was, her special talent for discerning fake from real was working as it was meant to. This was the first step of a very long quest. A gift was emerging, not an illness.
ONCE SHE REALIZED that there was no way for her to continue in her AI job and no way to stop digitalization from transforming the world, art became her recluse. Previously art was but an interesting hobby, but now it has become Maryssa’s very reason for living. She could disappear for hours and days in writing, drawing, and sometimes making paper sculptures.
She would joke about it when talking with the few other artists she met. ‘I went from artificial to art. Now I’m a paper fetishist, and I can’t get enough of it. Any kind of paper will do.’
But there was more to it. Maryssa’s rich and complex personality was not easy to live with, not even for herself. She needed an outlet for the waves of intense emotions and ideas running through her, a way to express herself and a way to focus. At the time, working on and with paper was the only way she knew to do it. So much so that when all forms of paper were withdrawn from the stores, she turned to more shady exchanges.
But when even the black market ran out of natural paper, there was only one thing for Maryssa to do: learn to work with digital replacements.
She wanted to, for the sake of her own peace. The new materials were, after all, highly developed substitutes; most people wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. She, however, could not only tell the difference, she was unable to ignore it.
It had been the same in her teens when vinyl records were being replaced by CDs. It was a welcome revolution to others, but she could always hear the difference. So much so that she stopped enjoying music. But she still had songs in her.
To Maryssa, singing, writing, or drawing digitally was like speaking with a mask on. The sounds, words, and colors were there, but the breath of life did not get through. Without it, what was the point?
And as paper disappeared from the Earth, so did Maryssa’s art.
‘THIS IS THE ONLY way we can prevent the planet from destruction,’ she heard the official media say over and over. She actually believed them but believing it didn’t change a thing. She could no longer feel the poetry of life that she had always sensed, even in the worst of times. She could not live without it.
To keep herself sane, she needed the practice to hold on to, and so she invented one: walking for hours and hours, contemplating everything she saw on her way, and then describing it for herself as if creating it anew.
For once, the digital era was on her side, protecting her from other people’s judgment. Those who saw her in the streets just assumed she was using her headset on a call with someone. But she was speaking to herself.
She would have preferred to walk in nature, but by then, as things had developed, the only way to do that was to participate in the scheduled group exercises initiated during the pandemics. But even in the parks, there was the ever-present smell of humidity. As if everything was subtly rotting.
AND NOW, IN THIS so-called Super Balance Suit, there is no smell at all. The thought brought Maryssa back to where she was. Maybe that’s better than sniffing flowers that don’t exist? How about I turn the darn VR off once and for all.
The thought of doing so made her diaphragm tense up, her breath shorten, and her heartbeat speed up. Even before the Subasuit notified her of it, she could feel it.
If Yousra, the psychologist, was here, she would have said:
‘It’s Okay. Fear is human. In this room, everything is allowed.’
But without the VR, Maryssa’s room would be completely empty. Or so she thought.
And then what?
Maybe, for once, I should try the middle way instead of driving myself to the edge.
And so, while she decided not to use the full VR system, Maryssa decided to explore the only simulation-free entertainment available, namely the modern history podcasts.
Perhaps, she admonished herself. It will give me perspective. Perhaps I am just confused by my own reactions. I’m old enough to stop being against everything. I can at least give it a try.
She fast-forwarded through the first decades. The polarization, the insufficient political response to climate change. And then the fires, randomly intensifying all around the globe. She remembered that horrible time when whatever could burn would burn.
As if Gaia was having outbursts of anger or fever.
That’s what it took to make politicians react. It was also why everything flammable was forbidden and eventually disappeared. Paperless living became a reality, and with that, Maryssa could no longer express herself through her art. As the worst disasters were being prevented to preserve the life of the planet, she found herself descending into depression. The walks helped, but they could not stop it.
‘Earth survived thanks to the monumental effort of all governments, united at last to create the new era, The Equilibrium,’ the speaker continued. ‘With the new humidified balance, the fires and the extreme weather stopped.
Is Gaia content or just pacified, like we are? Maryssa wondered.
‘By then, there were huge zones set aside on Earth for nature to regain its own balance. No human was allowed there, not on the ground, not in the air. Only some relatively small zones could be reserved for human occupation.’
‘But even so, this was a fragile balance. Humans had to learn to live in large communities with limited space and resources. Even more so, because before we got it under control, the world population exploded. With the new healthy balance, human life span expanded quickly.’
Maybe it would have been better if my life span had stayed short, like in the old days. But of course, she didn’t have the right perspective on that. She could not look into the future.
‘All in all, high levels of collaboration and adaptation were now necessary, not just between governments, but between all humans, all individuals.’
I have always been too individualistic for that, Maryssa thought.
‘At the core of the progress was the principle of closed circuits for local balance. It was also what led to the breakthrough in space travel. Rather than building livable areas on other planets (as we had planned on Mars earlier), we could create a suit that would be the perfect, complete environment for anyone wearing it. Now it was just a matter of transportation to other planets. Life would sustain itself within each individual suit. And each planet we went to could be its own self-sustainable world.’
Like this cosmic retirement home…
IRONY ASIDE, MARYSSA was genuinely grateful for the free space, for the very doable level of assignments here, and for finally being left in peace, more or less.
When they offered her the chance to be one among just a handful of mature, best-suited (no pun intended) pioneers (the word spoke to her vanity, she couldn’t deny it), on a newly discovered planet, so far away that there would be almost no communication with Earth… It felt like a door to freedom. And it was. Even if in a different way than she had anticipated.
But first, there had to be the necessary physical tests, training, and legal agreements. On the positive side, there had been surprisingly good conversations with the psychologist. Yusra was able to make Maryssa relax and open up. There was a special connection between them, even if none of them ever spoke about it directly.
‘What will you miss?’ was one of Yousra’s questions.
At the time, nothing came to mind except what she had missed already and would never get back because, by now, Earth itself had become a different planet. No more crisp air. Or snow. Or standing among trees without flocks of strangers trespassing. No long trips to unknown destinations in half-empty trains. No writing on real paper with a fountain pen. No more inspiration flowing.
‘I already miss my writing and my painting so much… How could it get any worse?’ Maryssa cried in frustration. Yousra’s eyes shined with compassion, but she didn’t say anything. Later, she continued with the next question on the list, as she had to.
‘What do you hope this mission will give you?’
‘I hope experiencing something new will help me focus again. And I get to be alone!’
And this I am. Alone. Lost in her memories, Maryssa hadn’t even noticed when the last episode in the history series stopped. Now there was only the harmonious background music. Muzak. She turned it off and promised herself to keep it that way.
THE PHYSICAL TRAINING, the functionality monitoring and reporting, and the daily trip to the dome to run the designated tests and experiments all required some focus. But otherwise, to Maryssa, the days here were all alike. They all kept polite distance from each other, even during team exercises. Seeing the open space around her was so thrilling, to begin with, but now resulting in increasing boredom. Even the VR, which she turned back on for a while just to see if that would lighten her up, couldn’t change it. And she still had most of the two years in front of her.
As on Earth, so on Alportado, Maryssa thought, full of dread. Except, now there is nowhere else to go, nothing more to hope for. My soul is starving. Why does nothing fulfill me anymore?
She didn’t expect an answer, but it came to her anyway.
Because you cannot breathe in without exhaling. Without expression, there is no space for inspiration.
Her artist self knew it to be true.
I need a practice to commit to, but there’s nothing to do here.
Where pace was dictated by gravity and not by mood and need, the walking practice would not satisfy her, she knew that.
How am I to express myself here? Or find inspiration?
What Maryssa didn’t know was that the ground was ready for a new seed.
‘Only memories remain…’
Where did that song come from? I don’t remember… I must have heard it a long time ago, Maryssa thought. Now I really feel like the old woman I am.
The seed was planted, and it grew fast.
SHORTLY AFTER, MARYSSA founded her new practice. Just like she used to spend her evenings writing or drawing and, later, her afternoons walking, she would now take time to contemplate her memories. Even if she had no means to draw them, she was recreating her life in her imagination, with as much detail as she could. And even if there was no way to write them down, she was speaking her memories aloud. She made sure that the internal recording pad was not transmitting.
This was completely new to her. She had never been the type to dwell in the past. By nature, she was far more interested in creating, maybe even inventing for the future. But here, now, revisiting her past felt exciting and refreshing.
At first, she tried to review her life chronologically. But after a while, she surrendered to whatever memories popped up for her, in whatever random order. Of course, it wasn’t random at all. It was a journey, and she was quick to recognize it as such. Even if she didn’t know yet what the journey really was about, the artist in Maryssa was waking up.
She was noticing how memories were layered in her body as much as in her mind and how her senses were coming to life as well. It was a much more subtle experience than with the VR, but also much more real. She loved to re-imagine the harshness of a rainy night, equally unpleasant and sweet because she was on her way home. Because there would be dry logs in the iron hearth, hot black tea, a notebook, and crumpled paper, old drafts of her writing to start the fire.
YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT you’ve got until you lose it. This song was old even when she was still writing, still had her spacious house and garden, and friends that visited. Before the relocations started.
‘Miss Olinkava, we all have to share our limited space. You do understand the necessity. You will have to move to a smaller place.’
So she did. After that, she had to move again and again until she was down to a 90-square-foot shed. But even this was a temporary solution. Her permanent home had to be in a community.
Maryssa tried desperately to remain well-behaved and to make them understand.
‘It’s not that I don’t want to cooperate. It’s just that to me, a community is like a noisy beehive. It stresses me out.’
‘Isn’t a little extra noise a small price to pay for all the benefits of honey, Miss Olinkava?’
‘But it’s all too close, all too busy, all too sticky….’
She regretted it immediately. I shouldn’t have spoken in metaphors. He doesn’t get it.
‘What I meant to say is, can we please try to find a practical solution that I can live with?’
What she wanted was to be left in peace. Eventually, it was what she got. Just not peace on Earth.
She remembered how enthusiastically they introduced it to her.
‘Great news! We have a solution just for you. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!’
Just like death, she thought, but she wisely kept that to herself. They would misunderstand. And, she had to admit, it did feel exciting.
Why they let her go, she wasn’t sure. She suspected it was because she was useless in the new era of optimal collective balance.
But there was more to it. And in any case, they couldn’t give her the real reasons. It was out of their hands.
‘We understand that as an artist, you feel differently. And we want to offer the best possible for people like you too.’
Maybe they even mean it. Maybe they actually do their best. She wasn’t sure what to believe. Their words or her feelings?
‘I STILL DON’T KNOW what to believe. But I did get a whole new planet for myself,’ Maryssa whispered.
‘Why am I not happy?’
At that moment, her Pandora box opened. Now, the memories creeping out of the dark were the ones she did not want to look at.
She had never experienced anything close to lasting happiness. Happiness would come, feel like magic, and then, just as she was beginning to trust it, leave without explanation. All the ways in which she had been met and loved only to be abandoned (so she believed). All the highs were followed by crashes. Even her art had deserted her.
All she had left was the one question lingering beneath it all:
Why? What is wrong with me?
And after all these years, she still didn’t have an answer.
What is the point of remembering all this?
‘This is the practice,’ she said aloud, with the same single-mindedness that she would apply to her art. Which, she admitted to herself, had its ups and downs as well. That was why she loved it, in a way. It was always changing, wild and unpredictable, never the same. The exact opposite of how she experienced life now: constant and heavy.
As if searching for something to support her, Maryssa looked at the tiny dragonfly and feather on her desk, her reminder of lightness and creativity.
At that moment, the memory of a music album showed up in her imagination, George Harrison’s ‘All Things Must Pass.’ With all the vividness the weeks of memory practice had developed in her, she could almost feel her fingers taking the LP out of its cover, smell the wooden box of her old turntable, see the needle right above the last track, hear the song in her mind.
‘But it’s not always going
To be this grey
All things must pass
All things must pass away.’
The voice was so soft, so peaceful, yet in her, it felt like claws piercing her heart, scratching her throat.
‘This will never pass!’ she cried.
At that moment, Maryssa believed there was no hope left for her. What she wanted no longer existed. Not even in her memories.
Memories or VR? It’s all just stories. It won’t change anything.
She believed she was back to square one and stuck there forever. She was down on her knees.
‘You won’t let me live, you don’t let me die!’ she screamed, but her voice was being muffled by the Subasuit. It hurt so much; she couldn’t breathe. Only the Subasuit ensured she breathed anyhow. She was weeping, and her tears were being automatically dried. Tiredness came like an avalanche. But it wouldn’t bury her. It wouldn’t let her sleep. She couldn’t take one more second of this, and still, she knew this would not pass.
She didn’t have one ounce of energy left in her. There was nothing she could do other than give up and just be there. And since there was nothing more to do, nothing more to wait for, Maryssa was simply present. With nothing to distract her, it felt as if her senses were becoming more alert with every breath she took. She could feel every tired bone in her body. She could discern every nuance of the humming of a distant scooter. She could see even the slightest patterns on the wall of her dome.
Is it the Subasuit doing it? No, it came from deeper within. It came along with the unobstructed pain in her heart.
And right there, while she could sense the physical world more distinctly than ever, Maryssa noticed that something felt even more real. In less than a moment, while nothing had changed, nothing was the same.
But this shift was no illusion. This was more real than anything she had ever experienced in her entire life. Her eyes were discovering colors that she didn’t have words for, which had been there all the time, only invisible to her.
The beauty of it. Out of the blue, waterfalls of love.
Boundless silence that held her and all sounds.
Joy flowing, expanding, shining.
‘This is all here for us. Nothing was ever missing,’ Maryssa whispered.
The wonder of it made her cry and laugh at the same time. Life was rushing through her and stood still, as open as the entire universe.
Maryssa was free. The pain was gone. She was gone. She was nothing, and she was everything. This was the truth, and she finally recognized it as such. This was what she had always longed for, on Earth and beyond Earth, in art and in people. Now it came to her.
‘Out of this world,’ she sighed and smiled at how exact she was in her thinking for once. Time stood still and passed, and the miracle of it unfolded right until Maryssa fell asleep.
WHEN SHE WOKE UP again, the feeling was far less intense. She was her human self again, enclosed by her Subasuit in her private dome. And yet everything was different. Because now that she had made space for it, she joy-filled it. Joy permeated everything.
It took a few more days for Maryssa to trust it. To discover that she could feel joy while leading her normal life, with exercise, meetings, reports, emptiness, VR or no VR, memories or no memories, longings or no longings.
It took a few weeks to discover that it was all up to her. That boredom was caused not by what she was doing or not doing but by an unconscious habit of concealing and disconnecting from the joy that had its home in the core of her soul.
And so, Maryssa’s new practice became to keep returning to joy. Day by day, week by week, month by month, the connection grew stronger.
Every day she discovered anew that she already had everything she needed. Yes, she would love to write and draw again. But then, being unable to do so inspired her creativity to seek new channels for expression. She couldn’t put it into words yet. But something was definitely in the making.
It was almost like having found a new switch in her Subasuit. ‘The joy switch, ha-ha.’ She was often laughing now for the silliest of reasons.
She still loved to be alone, but now she liked other people more. She noticed them and cared for no particular reason. There was a relationship there, a sense of belonging. The other settlers’ attitudes towards her were changing accordingly without her doing anything special about it. When they met in the big dome, they were drawn to her. Both she and they were a bit shy about it; they were all loners, after all. But Maryssa sensed potential in this too.
THE WEEKLY CHECK-INS with Earth were business as usual. She had nothing new to report, not to them. But she was more at ease with them now. After all, they just wanted to make sure everything was alright. It certainly was.
And so, on this particular day, when she heard the usual signal for a call, she opened the connection without hesitation.
‘Miss Olinkava? Maryssa Olinkava?’
‘Of course, who else would it be? Surprise, surprise.’ She laughed.
There was a moment of silence. Voices in the background.
‘Yes, yes, we’re through!’
‘Yes, you’re through, like you are every week. Are you new to the job?’
‘No, this is a different job altogether… Miss Olinkava, let me introduce myself and our network. We are–’
‘What network?’
‘Miss Olinkava, we are not mission control. My name is Kadin and–’
‘I think I misheard. Could you repeat, please?’
‘Miss Olinkava, we are not mission control!’
‘What does that mean? What has changed?’
‘Oh, nothing is changing with mission control. I’m sure they will connect with you like they do every week. We are not them. We have… a different invitation for you.’
He, or she, or them, Maryssa wasn’t sure, was speaking fast, the way young people do. She could almost see them pacing back and forth and gesticulating. She could feel her own curiosity buzzing in response.
‘An invitation? We don’t get many of them here, ha-ha. But how were you able to call me? I didn’t even know that was possible.’
‘Well, they don’t know that it’s possible either, but we do. In the old days, you would call us hackers. We’re the good kind. We call ourselves The Explorers and–’
‘Good hackers… I like that. But last time I was on Earth, there was nothing there left to explore.’
‘I’m afraid that hasn’t changed, madam, but we explore other possibilities, so to speak...’
‘I guess that’s what we are to do here on Alportado too.’
‘Yes, but that’s not what I meant… You see… Can I count on your discretion?’
‘Sure. Can I count on yours?’ She was only playing; discretion didn’t really matter to her. She had nothing to lose.
‘Absolutely! Do you know that the actual purpose of Alportado is to put opponents of the system to work for it anyhow? To use you to prepare for future colonization? And also to silence you and make you want to return to the Equilibrium and live like everyone else. Well, we question the validity of the Equilibrium itself. We don’t only hack technology. We hack life, in a sense. We get so many ideas we can hardly keep up with even the download speed, but the short version is…We know that the artificial balance is killing the planet, and humanity too, just slower, in less visible ways.’
‘Yes, yes, right? It’s like when they want art to be balanced. That’s like clipping a bird’s wings and still expecting it to fly.’
‘Exactly, and there are better ways. There always have been, but the government is afraid of change. They’re holding on to what they have achieved as if it was the only way. If we wait for them to wake up, we could wait forever.’
‘Yes, I see that too. But I wouldn’t know what to do about it. I have seen wars in my time, and I don’t want that.’
‘We don’t want violence either. We’ll share our ideas with you later. But the essence of it is: we are building a network across the globe and now beyond. That’s why I’m reaching out to you. We need people like you with us… Miss Olinkava, we have been watching you. We know you’re not like most people. You are unique in your way of living, and you are also an elder. We think you can help us.’
Tears came to her eyes. She had learned to feel them even as the Subasuit dried them immediately. For her, they flowed freely.
It was as if she had sent a message in a bottle, and just as she forgot all about it, someone picked it up.
‘We think… Because you were on Earth throughout all the changes, you know things that are not included in the Equilibrium history. We hope you can give us details that are not being preserved by the system… Oh, on that note, forgive me for asking, Miss Olinkava, but how is your memory at this point? How well do you remember your life?’
Oh. Oh. Was this what it had been all about? A preparation?
‘Ha, my memory has never been better. It is absolutely outstanding, if I may say so, down to the smallest details. That won’t be a problem. And I would love to help. In fact, I also have something else I would like to share with you. Like, a new super-power.’
She smiled.
‘Wow, that’s amazing. Is it something you discovered with the Super Balance Suit?’
‘No, it’s the one thing that doesn’t come with the suit. But I found it, and I would love more people to know about it… That would be such fun!’
‘Fun…? Miss Olinkava, do you understand how dangerous this is? This may be a well-meaning technocracy, but it’s still just that. If they discover what we’re up to and that you are part of it… You could be in serious trouble!’
‘Oh, I understand the gravity of it completely. Look, I will support you with all my heart. You can count on me. But no matter how serious this is, I intend to enjoy it. That’s just how it is when you’re dealing with a retired troublemaker, ha-ha.’
There was a moment of silence. Maryssa could feel Kadin being stopped in his own stream of thoughts and taking her words in. Then, there was a sigh. And then, at last, laughter. All the way from Earth to her and back.
‘This is going to be good,’ she said as she looked at the dragonfly.
Halina Goldstein fell in love with words when she was 5 years old. The relationship suffered greatly from her family’s emigration to Denmark. Fortunately, where her native Polish withered, seeds of English found fertile ground. Halina writes poetry, fiction and nonfiction. Visit her Awakening To Joyful Living site at HalinaGold.com
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