All of the lights in my residence are off. Only a barest glow, leaking through the bottom of my archaic automatic door's imperfect seal, hints at the outside corridor's soft wintry light. Even so, this leaves everything perfectly visible to my high resolution post-human vision...
I walk forward...
The door slides open.
... and emerge out into the light, changed. My slim body is clad demurely in an expertly folded black and white silk kimono. My face is finely featured. My hair-feathers-flowers fall down my shoulders in a long, long iridescent fall to the base of my back.
And my gender revealed as beautifully female.
I begin calmly walking forward with small graceful steps, supple back straight, my sandals clacking softly. Curving far off into the distance, both sides of this long white corridor are periodically marked with closed apertures fronted by black-bordered doormats of many hued patterns. No one else is out here. An open public aperture lies around the bend. Conversation emanates from it, approaching and receding. Passing through without hesitation, I find myself out onto an interstitial pathway winding amidst an open area of mid-Station public forums. Before me, various Outers chatter in groups stationary or mobile, towards inner or outer Station corridors. Attention begins to find me...
I continue calmly walking forward with small graceful steps, supple back straight, my sandals soft clacking now almost inaudible under a steadily surrounding hubbub of conversation. More than a few eyes settle firmly upon me. Two Outers had already been approaching this direction before I began crossing, each wearing orange work coveralls and so obviously heading from one of the engineering nodes. But their stare was different. Not placidly curious like most human evolved biosynth. Not faintly negative like most Chimeric. Only...
We pass each other by and I do not look back, continuing forward through the press. Passive Scanning displays Virtualized hexagon videofeeds of my surroundings: general attention of me continues building while the pair behind me turn briefly to stare long at my retreating backside... before sharing a grin, ribbing each other and moving on.
Another aperture comes into view. I pass gracefully back out into another bright white corridor, its inner wall marked periodically with more closed dormitory apertures fronted by black-bordered mats and its outer wall bearing a clear center-stripe showing through to starry void.
I pass aperture after aperture, my sandals clacking softly all the while. My nearly photographic memory recalls every resident, except the one I am approaching. Eventually, I slow to a stop before my destination. Waiting...
A gentle tone sounds from the door. The softly modulated voice of the Waypoint Subroutine comes quietly from closeby: "please state you intentions with this residence unit."
Chagrinned, I clear my throat. "My intention is to visit Obit."
It pauses. "Obit is not currently inside this residence unit. Would you like to send a message to him?"
"No!" I am suddenly flustered, but force calm. "That will not be necessary. It is not important."
A gentle tone sounds. Nothing more.
YOU ARE READING
Line in the StarsScience Fiction
Sol System, 4418 AD: Having gained a portion of their godlike power in "Übermensch", Id miraculously flees the Master's immortal rule on Earth. Piercing the Orbital Barrier was only the first step, however. A closed Solar System awaits. Making a new...