LJ Idol Week 28: Tenebris
“To be an astronaut of the void, leave the comfortable house, that imprisons you with reassurance…” --Derek Jarman.
London was born on a ship in the dark space between stars. His parents named him for a city they’d never seen.
That was tradition. His lessons were filled with such names, children called Moscow and Beijing, at least four Paris’ of varying genders. In bestowing these names parents called on the past in service of the future. They represented a connection with their destination, Earth, the mother planet. London’s parents told him; a four-generation-long voyage was ending, and one day, when he was grown, he would feel the soil man sprang from under his feet.
#
Like all the children, London had been raised to yearn for open sky -but he could not help but love the ship. Every morning he walked the corridors, listening to the engine thrum far below. Windows would have been a structural weakness, but sunlight was streamed in from stars they passed, and while he walked he turned his face up towards the warmth. These mechanizations were a mystery to him, and at the same time, they were all he knew.
In his lessons, they never learned about the ship. That was for adults to worry about, his instructor told them. Instead, they were taught about agriculture-
“The dead are recycled for consumption. Resources must not be wasted. By consuming them, we honor them, for it is honorable to die so others may live, and in return we carry their essence within ourselves, into the future, and we will bring them Home…”
--ethics-
“Murder and attempted suicide are punishable by lobotomy. Resources must not be wasted. Lobotomized males will have their genetic material harvested and stored in the archives. Lobotomized females will act as hosts for future generations, typically fertilized with the material of the lobotomized males…”
--and history.
“When our ancestors left Earth, they abandoned Utopia. There were wars, but that meant nothing. There was politics, but that meant nothing. There was suffering, but that meant nothing.
There was life, and that was meaning itself.
Under open sky, life begat life, breathed life. We were meant to feed the Earth, to give it our dead in exchange for the continuation of this cycle.
But instead, we consumed it, and then had to audacity to search the stars for more. When we did not find it, we began to know true Want, and so became wiser. Contrite, we make our way Home, and the Earth will receive us in forgiveness.”
He was young, and questioned nothing.
#
When London graduated, he was given placement as an engineer --that was what they called him, anyway, but truly he was little more than a repairman. He maintained the systems that impacted the day-to-day lives of the passengers. He didn’t mind; he was happy to contribute in any small way to the vessel that would bring them Home.
He worked with the endless enthusiasm of the believer, and so rose through the ranks, and in his late twenties he was granted access to the engine. His mother cried when he told her.
“It’s a great honor,” she said. “A great honor! You may even meet the Captain herself!”
He told her he was arranged to meet the Captain the following week, as part of his initiation into the engine-room, and she burst into tears anew.
#
The engine was housed in the very lowest deck, far below any living quarters. Sunlight was not streamed here. The corridors were only minimally maintained, coated in what looked like soot. The engine roared and sputtered, nothing like the comforting hum of the upper levels.
It was hard to imagine the Captain in such a place.
And yet there she was, hands clasped together in the common gesture of benevolence. In the gritty surroundings, her fair skin and blue robes shone as if the light of the open sky itself was somehow contained in them, her white hair folded and pinned to the back of her neck. The men surrounding her, the engineers, stood slightly back with a sense of quiet awe.
Closer now than he’d ever been to her, he bowed his head, as was proper.
“Thank you, child,” she said, voice clear. “Your humility does you credit, for you have no cause to be humble.”
“A humble mind resists greed,” he recited. “And greed was what took us from the Earth.”
“…Yes.”
He looked up. Her expression was sorrowful.
“I wish I had a better reward for you, child,” she said. “But in light of your accomplishments and your new position, it is my duty to relay to you a terrible truth. Only know that we would never have advanced you this far, if we did not think you could bear it.”
She turned to one of the far walls, and gestured to it. He followed her gaze. It was no different than any other wall, but he kept his eyes on it, as she had asked.
“Gentlemen,” the Captain said. “Raise the wall.”
A moment passed -and then, with a terrible shriek, the wall rose, sliding up into the ceiling. To his amazement, a strip of bright red light appeared along the bottom, washing the floors crimson, hitting his feet. He watched the light creep up his legs.
“You may look at it directly, but not for long,” the Captain said, as if he should know what ‘it’ was.
There was nothing to see but the red light, and when the window was completely open, it looked like the wall had been replaced with one giant hot coal. It hurt his eyes, so he looked away, and saw that the other men were averting their gazes as well.
They looked afraid. But more than that, they looked…
…ashamed?
The Captain had not looked away. Her eyes were reflecting the light when she said: “This is Tenebris. Our Red Sun.”
“…I don’t understand.”
“When our ancestors abandoned their attempts at colonization, they really did intend to make a four-generation-voyage back to Earth. But by some means long forgotten, the navigation system was damaged. Irreparably.
“We would have wandered aimlessly, drifting from star to star, or mistakenly gone too far in some direction and be stranded in dark space, to run out of power and perish. That was what we faced. With no other choice, the Captain led the ship into a stabilized orbit of Tenebris --the nearest sun-- so that we could harness its power and maintain life support, as well as a signal, calling for help in all directions. A signal which will be answered in time,” this last she added as if it were simple fact.
For a moment, her face seemed cruel.
“But…” he trailed off as the wall started to grind back into place, cutting off the light. It seemed no one could bear to look at it for very long. “But we’re on the last generation. We’ve been traveling my whole life, and we’re almost there.”
“We have been in orbit. We have been here.”
“Won’t people start to notice when we never arrive?!”
“They will, as they have before, but this will not dissuade them. The patience of the faithful is tremendous, and the elders are at peace, knowing the future is secure for their children…if not in the manner they expected. It does not matter. All will be carried into the future, through consumption.”
All he heard was, ‘as they had before.’
“…How many generations has it been?”
“Oh, child,” she said, with genuine pity. “Many more than four.”
When she took her leave of him, one of the men stepped forward to complete his initiation.
“You have been deemed ready for this knowledge, and honored with the presence of our Captain. Any psychological damage you suffer as a result of this knowledge is your responsibility. You are reminded that suicide is punishable by lobotomy, as it is immoral to waste resources. You are warned that sharing this knowledge with those not deemed ready is also punishable by lobotomy, as it is immoral to damage others with unnecessary truths. Welcome, brother. The signal will be answered.”
#
In his thirties, London became known as an inveterate bachelor. He took no mate, produced no offspring. All his friends and family laughed about it, though there was an edge in their mirth: resources must not be wasted.
He was nearly unique among his peers, the classmates called Moscow and Beijing and the many Paris’. They all paired off eventually, and within a few years he was passing them and their children in the corridors. Without meaning to, he often overheard their conversations.
The parents told them; a four-generation-long voyage was ending, and one day, when they were grown, they would feel the soil man sprang from under their feet…
London was born on a ship in the dark space between stars. His parents named him for a city they’d never seen.
That was tradition. His lessons were filled with such names, children called Moscow and Beijing, at least four Paris’ of varying genders. In bestowing these names parents called on the past in service of the future. They represented a connection with their destination, Earth, the mother planet. London’s parents told him; a four-generation-long voyage was ending, and one day, when he was grown, he would feel the soil man sprang from under his feet.
#
Like all the children, London had been raised to yearn for open sky -but he could not help but love the ship. Every morning he walked the corridors, listening to the engine thrum far below. Windows would have been a structural weakness, but sunlight was streamed in from stars they passed, and while he walked he turned his face up towards the warmth. These mechanizations were a mystery to him, and at the same time, they were all he knew.
In his lessons, they never learned about the ship. That was for adults to worry about, his instructor told them. Instead, they were taught about agriculture-
“The dead are recycled for consumption. Resources must not be wasted. By consuming them, we honor them, for it is honorable to die so others may live, and in return we carry their essence within ourselves, into the future, and we will bring them Home…”
--ethics-
“Murder and attempted suicide are punishable by lobotomy. Resources must not be wasted. Lobotomized males will have their genetic material harvested and stored in the archives. Lobotomized females will act as hosts for future generations, typically fertilized with the material of the lobotomized males…”
--and history.
“When our ancestors left Earth, they abandoned Utopia. There were wars, but that meant nothing. There was politics, but that meant nothing. There was suffering, but that meant nothing.
There was life, and that was meaning itself.
Under open sky, life begat life, breathed life. We were meant to feed the Earth, to give it our dead in exchange for the continuation of this cycle.
But instead, we consumed it, and then had to audacity to search the stars for more. When we did not find it, we began to know true Want, and so became wiser. Contrite, we make our way Home, and the Earth will receive us in forgiveness.”
He was young, and questioned nothing.
#
When London graduated, he was given placement as an engineer --that was what they called him, anyway, but truly he was little more than a repairman. He maintained the systems that impacted the day-to-day lives of the passengers. He didn’t mind; he was happy to contribute in any small way to the vessel that would bring them Home.
He worked with the endless enthusiasm of the believer, and so rose through the ranks, and in his late twenties he was granted access to the engine. His mother cried when he told her.
“It’s a great honor,” she said. “A great honor! You may even meet the Captain herself!”
He told her he was arranged to meet the Captain the following week, as part of his initiation into the engine-room, and she burst into tears anew.
#
The engine was housed in the very lowest deck, far below any living quarters. Sunlight was not streamed here. The corridors were only minimally maintained, coated in what looked like soot. The engine roared and sputtered, nothing like the comforting hum of the upper levels.
It was hard to imagine the Captain in such a place.
And yet there she was, hands clasped together in the common gesture of benevolence. In the gritty surroundings, her fair skin and blue robes shone as if the light of the open sky itself was somehow contained in them, her white hair folded and pinned to the back of her neck. The men surrounding her, the engineers, stood slightly back with a sense of quiet awe.
Closer now than he’d ever been to her, he bowed his head, as was proper.
“Thank you, child,” she said, voice clear. “Your humility does you credit, for you have no cause to be humble.”
“A humble mind resists greed,” he recited. “And greed was what took us from the Earth.”
“…Yes.”
He looked up. Her expression was sorrowful.
“I wish I had a better reward for you, child,” she said. “But in light of your accomplishments and your new position, it is my duty to relay to you a terrible truth. Only know that we would never have advanced you this far, if we did not think you could bear it.”
She turned to one of the far walls, and gestured to it. He followed her gaze. It was no different than any other wall, but he kept his eyes on it, as she had asked.
“Gentlemen,” the Captain said. “Raise the wall.”
A moment passed -and then, with a terrible shriek, the wall rose, sliding up into the ceiling. To his amazement, a strip of bright red light appeared along the bottom, washing the floors crimson, hitting his feet. He watched the light creep up his legs.
“You may look at it directly, but not for long,” the Captain said, as if he should know what ‘it’ was.
There was nothing to see but the red light, and when the window was completely open, it looked like the wall had been replaced with one giant hot coal. It hurt his eyes, so he looked away, and saw that the other men were averting their gazes as well.
They looked afraid. But more than that, they looked…
…ashamed?
The Captain had not looked away. Her eyes were reflecting the light when she said: “This is Tenebris. Our Red Sun.”
“…I don’t understand.”
“When our ancestors abandoned their attempts at colonization, they really did intend to make a four-generation-voyage back to Earth. But by some means long forgotten, the navigation system was damaged. Irreparably.
“We would have wandered aimlessly, drifting from star to star, or mistakenly gone too far in some direction and be stranded in dark space, to run out of power and perish. That was what we faced. With no other choice, the Captain led the ship into a stabilized orbit of Tenebris --the nearest sun-- so that we could harness its power and maintain life support, as well as a signal, calling for help in all directions. A signal which will be answered in time,” this last she added as if it were simple fact.
For a moment, her face seemed cruel.
“But…” he trailed off as the wall started to grind back into place, cutting off the light. It seemed no one could bear to look at it for very long. “But we’re on the last generation. We’ve been traveling my whole life, and we’re almost there.”
“We have been in orbit. We have been here.”
“Won’t people start to notice when we never arrive?!”
“They will, as they have before, but this will not dissuade them. The patience of the faithful is tremendous, and the elders are at peace, knowing the future is secure for their children…if not in the manner they expected. It does not matter. All will be carried into the future, through consumption.”
All he heard was, ‘as they had before.’
“…How many generations has it been?”
“Oh, child,” she said, with genuine pity. “Many more than four.”
When she took her leave of him, one of the men stepped forward to complete his initiation.
“You have been deemed ready for this knowledge, and honored with the presence of our Captain. Any psychological damage you suffer as a result of this knowledge is your responsibility. You are reminded that suicide is punishable by lobotomy, as it is immoral to waste resources. You are warned that sharing this knowledge with those not deemed ready is also punishable by lobotomy, as it is immoral to damage others with unnecessary truths. Welcome, brother. The signal will be answered.”
#
In his thirties, London became known as an inveterate bachelor. He took no mate, produced no offspring. All his friends and family laughed about it, though there was an edge in their mirth: resources must not be wasted.
He was nearly unique among his peers, the classmates called Moscow and Beijing and the many Paris’. They all paired off eventually, and within a few years he was passing them and their children in the corridors. Without meaning to, he often overheard their conversations.
The parents told them; a four-generation-long voyage was ending, and one day, when they were grown, they would feel the soil man sprang from under their feet…