Dysentopia

Chapter One

Chapter One: Invitation.

I was five years old the last time I saw my mother. A bead of sweat drips down from my forehead as I remove my helmet, taking in a large breath from within the safety of our oxygen field. Detaching the hook on my line, my tether to this starving world, I swing my helmet by my side, the gold visor reflecting the red glow from the panels beneath me. I hear a call and turn suddenly, as if expecting to see a familiar face like Sanyu's, Nadine's or even Teshi's cheerful mug. Only the silence of space and flickering panels far off passed the danger zone greet me back.

I face forward and think back to my mother. That was twenty seven years ago. My eyes dropped low as I catch my reflection, my auburn hair enhanced by the glowing red beneath me. I see the patterns of air moving around us, all of us, our cocoon of life, filtered through red panels, the sky on fire. I shake my head, this shift ran longer than usual, exhaustion always made me think far too much. A sudden pat on the back, a fellow miner congratulates me on another job well done, I catch a glimpse of him, a young man, must have recently started his shifts.

We walk our usual miles, miners always traveled far from life, our work took us to the edge, and with the danger zone moving nearer every few months it wouldn't be safe to live anywhere else. I can see the outlines of houses, the newer recruits take this as a signal to pick up into a jog, home was only a short distance away.

We used to have machines do this for us, I remember how those large spiders would take off and land on the asteroid caught by the orbital array. They would attach, drill, collect and return to the colony, most of the process was automated with just a couple of engineers and emergency pilots to handle situations that demanded manual control. We can't afford that luxury anymore, the strain it would put on our generator would leave us in the dark, the panels would fall faster and the colony would just fall apart faster than it already is. So we work, we miners, gravity picks to break up and collect precious minerals to keep us going, but we weren't built for this.

Another hour and I reached dirt, the scent of earth invading my sense of smell as I approach home, a building near the edge of the farming district. I could see seedlings, patches of grass, the occasional cluck of a chicken or cry of a goat, I was fortunate. I worked my way past the miners strip, to a home with earth under my feet and sounds of life around me. The farming district kept me close to food, allowed me my own spot to raise crops, kept me busy, and kept me away from the glowing panels and the deep, overwhelming silence of space.

I hold up my wrist to the scanner, the usual ping and greeting from the buildings mainframe welcomes me home and I make my way upstairs to the second floor, my door opening as I reach the entrance. Menu, Dinner, Favorites, One. Speaking off towards the interior of my home, five rooms, white walls, including a kitchen, a bathroom and a large enough living room. I get into my routine as my meal is prepared, removing my gear and other articles of clothing and place them into the closet in the main room to be sterilized. Likewise, I step into the bathroom directly across and step under the shower, allowing the oncoming mist to sterilize any nicks, cuts and lingering odors. As usual, the mist began to die down, causing me to tap the shower head and pause, holding my breath as the mist came out at full force.

I glare at the shower head, aware of its ongoing tantrum as I step out and back into my room for a fresh set of clothes. I should say something. My thoughts raced, my head still stuck inside my shirt as I push my arms through the long sleeves of the pale blue fabric. Having less trouble with my pants once sat on the bed, I get up and pause, fixing a stare at a glass card on my counter. Picking it up I flick pass my messages and arrive at the invitation sent out over two weeks ago. "Colony Nine Gala, maintenance for the soul, come and celebrate another successful year with your fellow colonists..." The message trailed off, it was only another day away, and my mind began to trail off as well.

Soft pale hands, a small crate of potatoes and light brown hair. My memories travel back,  remembering our last encounter outside the local bakery, with an exchange of carrots and some leaves of basil for more starchy roots. I sit at the table, making steady progress through my mashed potatoes, the smell and taste of garlic and basil allowing me to unwind. My shoulders relax, my elbows rest upon the glass table as I set down my card and look up towards the empty seats ahead of me. I glance back at the glass card, my mind racing between the gala and that last encounter. Tapping the card's screen and dragging my finger unto the table, the message spread across its surface, displayed in a much larger window. I stare silently at the words.

I should really say something.