SJilai

By Nonen Titi

A new planet.
A new life.
A one-way trip.
The colonists of DJar, all seeking a better future, each with their own past, and their own beliefs about right and wrong, try everything they can to create a new government and a new culture they can all be happy with.
Four years at breakneck speed is all it should take to bring the colonists to their new home planet. For Aryan, it’s the greatest adventure of his life, but between space debris, personal trauma, and angry convicts, they might not even reach orbit.

• Language: English
• Publisher: N Titi Publishing
• Release date: Mar 14, 2017
• ISBN: 9780992253769

Nonen Titi

I started my career in physical and mental healthcare, tropical nursing and midwifery, including an assignment with Medecins sans Frontieres to Columbia and four summers in a camp for children with type one diabetes. Those experiences still provide a lot of the material for my books. More recently I added hypnotherapy to my healthcare training.After my children were born, I changed to education and worked a few years as a Montessori teacher before opting to educate my own children at home. That was one of the most wonderful experiences of my life. In the meantime we had moved from Europe and the UK to the USA, Australia and now New Zealand.Nearly twenty years ago I became interested in the theory of psychological types of Carl Jung (and of Myers-Briggs and David Keirsey) which has changed my perspective on life completely and which I have made my special interest of study. When my children went off to university, I decided to join them and get a degree in philosophy. Since then I have been a writer of both fiction and non-fiction books inspired by the inborn differences that influence the beliefs, behavior and natural talents of every person on Earth.Although I enjoy writing non-fiction books, I believe that fiction is best suited to help bridge those natural differences. Hence, my books portray human nature to a depth where the study of psychology cannot reach, each character an easily recognizable personality and together in pursuit of a positive future.

Book preview

Children’s Things

Jema arrived on SJilai with one hundred and twenty eight kids. Two days earlier she had met Kiren and Tiya, who were also assigned to the home of the userchildren on the kabin. The children had arrived from the city just hours before the riser took them up; they hadn’t been told where they were going and most had been terrified.

The home on the kabin was located on Habitat Two. It was made of thick, grey plastic, had its own entrance on the long wall facing one of the two habitat streets, and its own stairs. On the left was a small office in which the children’s files were stored and which had an audio speaker. Behind it were four bedrooms with eight mats and eight chests each, and one washroom for every sixteen children. Upstairs were another twelve such rooms and for the carers there were three single rooms: two upstairs and one down. The home had its own mealsroom and preparation area so the children wouldn’t have to go to the habitat’s social room. Whether that was for the benefit of the children or that of the other colonists, Jema wasn’t sure. It was all very clean and very empty apart from a smaller common room, which had a carpet and cushions. All in all, Jema liked it, but she had no idea what to do, neither with the children nor with the new space.

Tiya was more practical. After a quick room count she started organizing the children into groups of eight; boys with boys, girls with girls. She assigned the oldest ones into the four bedrooms downstairs and sent the rest up.

They followed Tiya’s orders without question or protest in a way that made Jema shiver. Had these children been so institutionalized that they’d lost all sense of self or were they still so shocked they couldn’t respond? These were normal children, not like the ones in Closed House. Well, as far as normal went for those who’d been taken away from their home without more explanation than that their parents were no good and had been made users. They stayed on their assigned mats until told to come down.

How about we have a walk to see what else there is? Kiren asked them after the meal. They immediately stood up to follow him.

Habitat Two consisted of two very wide streets. Streets which, with a bit of imagination, could have been on DJar, at least in the nicer areas. The big difference was that this part of town had a roof – though as high up as clouds would have been. The far side of each street had the colonists’ rooms; two high, all identical except for a number on the door. They seemed like dollhouses in front of the endless walls reaching to the ceiling.

Kiren seemed to be familiar with the layout of the Habitat. The central section housed the public buildings – an infirmary, a laundry, a distribution centre and a Learners, all separated by large empty fields for the cattle, farmers’ crops rooms, sports areas and even a swimming pool. This wasn’t just any town – this was a luxury resort.

Just like the streets, the central section stretched the entire length of the habitat and had neither beginning nor end. In four places, between the central buildings and the fields, a staircase went down into the floor; they’d arrived through one of them that morning. These were the entrances to the elevators which connected Habitat Two with the rest of the kabin.

Kiren was five kor, but had a childlike enthusiasm. Though his hair was receding at the front, it was longer than Jema’s at the back and he had it tied in a tail. His arms were all muscle and when he laughed two dimples formed in his cheeks. If you don’t start smiling soon, I’ll throw you all into the pool, he threatened the children.

They smiled then, because he asked, but the rest of the time they remained serious and quiet and they went to sleep as obediently as they had followed him on the walk.

Jema walked into each room to see if they were okay for their first night on the kabin before going to her own upstairs room. She left the door open in case one of them needed her. None did. The next day Kiren tried to invite them to play some games with him on one of the fields. Again, the children played only because they were being asked to.

Tiya had thus far tended to their physical needs. She’d organized food and drink routines and washroom use, so Jema decided to do the talking. If these children hadn’t been informed about anything, it was time they were. She scanned through the files first. The youngest was just six and had been in a home since she was a baby. The oldest was nearly three times that. Only a few were here due to their own behaviour and the youth detention courts.

Jema told them everything she knew about the journey, the kabin and Kun DJar. As honestly as possible she mentioned the dangers and uncertainties for all the people on board. If those children were to trust them for the duration of the journey, this was the only way. No questions were asked.

That evening, after the children had gone to their mats, Jema and her new colleagues sat down on the cushions in the common room. Jema asked Kiren if he’d worked with children on DJar, seeing how good he’d been with them so far. He started laughing.

"I am… was a baker. But on the kabin they didn’t need one, so I requested a job with children." He had lost his two daughters when he decommitted, which was the reason he’d signed on.

I left five kids, Tiya said.

Five?

I’m from Freberer, she explained.

That was obvious both from her accent as well as her dark hair and pale eyes. The bright red top she wore intensified her pallor. She told them she was alone. She was two years younger than Jema. She had left her comate and children and gone in a desperate search to be accepted on the journey.

Why? Kiren asked.

Because I couldn’t handle it anymore. Too much work. I didn’t know I’d end up with a whole set of them here.

How old were they? Kiren wanted to know.

The little one, just three, the oldest fourteen. She’ll take care of them.

Clearly unable to find a response to that, Kiren turned to Jema. Did you leave anybody behind?

Nobody, she answered.

The following day Saski, the oldest of the children, came to ask if Jema knew where their things were.

What things?

Our personal things. They’re not here. The people in the city home told us they were sent ahead, only we didn’t know we’d go up in space then. Long strands of blonde hair obscured her face as she looked down at the floor.

When was this? Jema asked. At least it seemed the children had talked to each other.

When they took us. I think they probably didn’t bring them here. It was only kids’ things, toys and stuff, but some of us had pictures.

Saski said it casually but the fact that she was asking in the first place! It was all these kids had. So Jema went in search, together with Saski, to find someone who may know about the transport. They started using the audio speaker in the little office, but were directed from one person to another, each of whom stressed they weren’t in charge of that and to ask someone else.

Already convinced it was easier to refer her and angry because of that, Jema decided to go to the administration on Habitat One.

Saski was reluctant to come, not sure if they were allowed to use the elevators. Jema was no more confident, but nobody had said they couldn’t. Once down the stairs it was as straightforward as on DJar: The elevator had buttons indicating the stops it could make.

Habitat One didn’t look that much different either. It didn’t have big central buildings and fields, instead it had two extra rows of homes in their place and paths connecting the streets. It was busier here, more like a town on DJar. A man pointed them to the office of the journey leaders.

Come in.

When she stepped inside Jema recognized one of the two men in the room. This was as high up as she was going to get. Sorry to interrupt.

What is it? the other man demanded. He was a bit older. Certainly over the age limit, but who was asking?

We’re looking for the belongings of the children from the home on Habitat Two. They seem to have not arrived.

Do I know you? Kalgar asked.

Jema explained briefly that she’d answered his daily wave messages when working on the base this last station.

Right. I don’t know anything about the belongings, he answered.

Neither does anybody else, but we have to find them. The children have been torn away from everything they knew without a word of explanation. The least we can do is get them the few things they own to take along.

This office wasn’t that much bigger than the one they had at the home. If these were the journey leaders, they certainly didn’t show it off.

It will probably arrive tomorrow, Kalgar said.

What if it doesn’t? Everybody else’s belongings came up on the same riser they did.

The men exchanged looks. No doubt she’d interrupted something more important. Then we will check tomorrow, the other man answered.

Jema hesitated. Should she insist? But what could they do, send her back to DJar? The outcome of this would determine the trust the children put in her.

It’s all the children have. I’m afraid they just didn’t bother to even send it to the base. If we wait too long it’ll be too late to get it from the city.

"Who are they?" Kalgar asked.

I don’t know. Whoever was in charge of rounding these kids up for transport.

Who sent you to me?

Nobody.

Okay, look, I will contact the base and ask around, he said.

When?

Saski pinched Jema’s arm while Kalgar turned to the other man. Is it possible the children’s chests are still in the dock? Did the children have chests? he asked her without waiting for an answer from his partner.

Jema looked at Saski.

They put everything in boxes, Saski whispered.

Do you know what they looked like?

Saski shook her head. Kalgar put down the papers he’d been holding and went to the speaker on his desk.

I need somebody to check for some boxes or chests that came from the children’s home in the city, he told the face on the screen.

The face answered he’d get right on it.

Now leave, we’re busy here, the older man told Jema.

What about the base?

I’ll contact them as soon as I have a reply from storage, Kalgar answered, now also irritated.

Jema thanked them and left with Saski. If they don’t know anything by tomorrow morning, I’ll go back to them, she promised.

Do you really think they were left in the city?

Jema put her hand on Saski’s back when entering the elevator. I don’t think so, but if they were, we’ll make so much trouble that they won’t dare launch without getting your things here first.

Saski giggled, which was a treat in itself. She must know there would be nothing Jema could do about it.

The evening meal consisted of a foodbar and a thick drink, which replaced the mealmax foods. It was more than sufficient for their needs but, if possible, even more boring to eat. Jema was helping Tiya hand out the drinks when Kalgar appeared in the door.

They’ve found the children’s boxes. They’re on the base, he started, his eyes searching the room before he found her. I’ve arranged for them to be on the next transport up.

Jema walked up to say thanks. I hadn’t expected it to be done so fast.

I said I would check it out, so I did, he replied.

Sorry. It’s just that sometimes things don’t get done if people aren’t important enough.

Every time I needed something done on the base this last station I called, you answered and it was done. That was important then, this was important now. I owed you that much.

Even though I’m just a worker?

I’ve been told not to use those terms anymore, he replied briskly, then turned and left.

Okay, so she’d pushed it a bit with that last question, but this must be a sign that things would be different here.

Nursing Insecurities

Nini had been on SJilai exactly two days when an announcement was made over the habitat’s loudspeakers directing her to Maike’s office. Two days only to get used to the idea of being on a spacekabin that looked more like a fairy castle. Two days of eating the strange foodbars with Gina in the social room. Two cycles of day time and night time regulated by a timedisk. The light, which came in from the huge overhead panels on the habitat ceiling, was turned off exactly eight hours after it had come on. It wasn’t artificial light, and yet it had to be.

From a sketch of the spacekabin that hung in the social room, Nini had figured out that the ceiling was on the inside of the kabin, the centre of the cylindrical residential area, while they walked on the outer walls. Gina was convinced the drawing was there only to make them believe there was more to this kabin than Habitat Three.

Maike’s office was about the size of the room Nini shared with Gina. It was empty apart from a desk and one chair. The desk itself was bare except for an audio speaker. It didn’t look like Maike had used it yet. Instead she was using it as a seat now, while Nini and a group of others crowded into the room.

Maike explained why they were here: Everybody was to have a job while on the kabin. The two kor of them were to work away from this habitat and would require a pass for the guards to let them leave. She gave a short speech about them being representatives of the Habitat Three population and how their behaviour would pave the way for the other users to be accepted as equals once on Kun DJar.

After that Maike led them to the stairwell they had entered through on arrival. It had a gate in front of it and a guard on watch. Down the stairs was a small platform and the elevator door. Nini paid attention to Maike’s directions, but it wasn’t hard. There was a clear diagram of the different areas. Toward the front of the kabin were the other two habitats and the pilot section. The elevator went the other way, backward.

Next to Nini stood a young man who was looking her over shamelessly. She frowned at him.

Sorry, he said immediately and introduced himself as Roilan.

Nini didn’t return the politeness. Right now all she worried about was where she was being sent. A job like you used to have, Maike had said. Did that mean cleaning the equipment for the photofoodbars?

The last stop on the diagram was the first on Maike’s route. Nini and most of the others were told to wait while Maike took Roilan and another man up the stairs to what, according to the schematic, was the engineering bay. Maike returned alone. The next stop was the technical and design area where she left seven people behind.

The elevator travelled forward, skipping their own habitat and stopped again at Habitat Two. This time Nini and four others were summoned. No guard or gate was at the top of the stairs here. It was different from Habitat Three, more spacious. Nini was the last one to be dropped off in one of the buildings which were sitting in the middle of this habitat.

You will be working as a nurse. The staff is expecting you. Will you be able to find your way back? Maike asked.

Nini was no longer sure. There was an elevator exit right in front of this building, but it wasn’t the same one they’d come out of.

It makes no difference, Maike answered her concern. There are four exits on each habitat, each to an elevator. All that can happen is that you end up on the other side of Habitat Three and have to walk further. Just keep walking in one direction. You can never get lost.

Nini fiddled with the pass on the string around her neck. She felt like a Learners child on a trip; if she got lost, someone could see where she belonged. She tucked it inside her shirt. Maike winked and let her through two sets of doors into a bright room which was the infirmary. Nini wished she hadn’t eaten that foodbar this morning. Her intestines strongly protested her being left alone here.

It was a big room, maybe eight times as long as her new home and at least four times as wide. To the right stood some couches and chairs around a small table. Behind it was a desk. A sideboard against a dividing wall was full of prints and papers. Nini couldn’t see what was behind the wall. On the left were eight beds – or, rather, they were mats the same as in her room. These were raised off the floor on built-in boxes, made of the same plastic kabin material. All the mats were made up, ready for use. At the far end were three doors. One of them stood open. It was a washroom.

Hi there.

The voice startled Nini. The girl, who’d come from behind the dividing wall, introduced herself as one of the nurses. She told Nini the others wouldn’t be long and to make herself at home.

Nini managed a smile. Would she be able to do this? She couldn’t quite remember how she had approached a new job in the past. It had been so long since she worked in the city hospital. She’d been confident then; young and with hopes of helping people who needed her. Now she had seven years of being told she was no good behind her.

I’ll show you what all the stuff here is while we wait for the others, the nurse said. She had a deep voice for a woman.

Only now did Nini register the way she was dressed. She was wearing all black, in a skirt that reached down to her ankles and a long-sleeved blouse buttoned to her throat. Her hair was covered with a black shawl that reached almost to her eyebrows. It was tied at the back, leaving the loose ends draped over her shoulders. She smiled when she noticed Nini staring at it, and Nini blushed.

Basically we’ll just deal with things as they come in, she said. We’re supposed to have only healthy people on board for now.

Nini wished she could remember her name, but it would sound wrong to ask now. The girl must already think her a total idiot. She got lucky when another woman came in, hair as blonde as could only be from painting it and wearing a startling bright blue dress.

Wana, did you get those last boxes I sent down? she asked before noticing Nini.

Wana pointed to the corner behind the desk and then introduced Nini to the woman, the kabin’s doctor, Irma.

Good to have you join us. We’ll make some drinks. The others are on their way, Irma said.

Nini followed Wana behind the dividing wall where the infirmary had its own equipment for making hot drinks. The others came in one at the time. Nini tried hard to listen to their names: Kala, Flori and the last one was a man, Remko.

When sitting down on the couch, Nini noticed one of the young girls, Flori, staring at Wana’s clothing. That meant two things: these people were all new to each other and this was not a required uniform. Her own simple shirt and pants felt less uncomfortable now.

Okay, this is it. We are the infirmary staff for the next three and half years here on SJilai, Irma started. We’ll have to deal with all incoming medical problems as well as routine check-ups for the people of all habitats – more than a mas of people.

She took a breath as if she herself only just realized how many that was and continued to say they should accustom themselves to the layout of both the infirmary and the residential sections, and there was a complete map in the sideboard. She confirmed that none of them knew each other, but Irma had interviewed each of the others in the city before coming here. They would work their own schedule and take turns doing all shifts. Though we may never get any patients in at all, I still want one person present in this room at all times.

Next she took them through the emergency procedures, equipment and medications. We only have the basics. On Kun DJar we’ll have none of this, she said.

For now there was paperwork to be done; sorting through the medical records of every person on the kabin. Over the next three years they would also have to transcribe the entire medical partikel library onto paper, so they’d have plenty to do even without patients.

Nini studied the faces. All were younger than she was, except Irma herself, all equally uncomfortable with the new environment. Did any of them know her background?

As she scanned the Habitat Two records she’d been given, making notes of any potential problems, she listened to the others’ conversations. Kala asked Irma several times if something in her records made sense. Is this right? This man is supposed to be over Life.

Benjamar? Yes, that’s right, Irma answered.

Most of the files were ordinary medical histories, standard preventative treatment for eyes, teeth and all vaccinations. A handful made note of previous problems, broken bones or allergies. Twice Nini found someone who had been seriously injured by farming equipment. The majority of the Habitat Two people were Veleder and Menever farmers. Halfway through she came across Flori’s record and then worried that someone would find hers. At one point her attention was drawn to the name of the institution to which one of her workmates in her last assignment had been taken: The girl had screamed them awake several times in the night. She used to see and hear things that weren’t there and scared them all by laughing out loud during dinner, while accusing a guard of raping her right there and then. She’ll be in the Land Beyond within a year. People like that don’t last on DJar, one of the others had said.

People like us don’t either, Nini had answered, which had been her first strong motivation for running away. Now she looked at this file and decided she must ask the person who had worked there.

The day went fast. At change of light she stood outside with her new work schedule in her hands, ready to try and find her way back to her new home without a guard watching her. Not a bad day for a user.

Withdrawal

There was still more than a moon left before launch when two of the children became ill. I have no idea; it looks like a fever, Kiren said.

Jema went up to see the two boys who hadn’t come down for breakfast. Both were in the same room, lying on their mats, curled up small. Both were among the youngest children and one of them was crying. Jema put her hand on their heads, but they had no fever. A few questions confirmed her suspicion: They had been on medication but had failed to take it. She found it in the pockets of their jackets, which had not been worn since arrival on SJilai.

How many of you are on medication? she asked Saski, who had been mothering the younger ones a bit since they’d arrived.

Saski wasn’t sure. Most of them, I guess.

It took Jema the next two hours to go around all the children and collect the small containers from their clothing. Most had a name on the label, some only an ID. Inside most were identical tablets.

What is it? Kiren asked.

Drugs to keep them under control. I should have known. Half the so-called normal children were on this stuff so they’d pay attention in Learners.

No wonder they had been so placid. Jema found an empty box and put all the containers inside it.

So what are you going to do? Kiren asked.

Bring them to the infirmary, unless you want to care for robots for the duration of the journey?

The infirmary was also on Habitat Two. It must be a law that all clinics were predominantly white to provide sterility – not from germs but from all empathic feeling. They couldn’t risk a doctor getting infected with emotions, after all – it might prevent them from seeing their patients as a collection of detachable organs and symptoms.

Have a seat. Irma won’t be long, the nurse told her once Jema explained why she was there.

The doctor arrived a few minutes later. The bright pink of her tunic invaded the aseptic room. She carried no symbols of superiority and reached out her hand to introduce herself before sitting down next to Jema.

Jema handed her the box. I came to bring you these and to ask you not to prescribe any more of this to the children of the home. I don’t want our children drugged into obedience.

Irma took one of the little pots out of the box and looked inside. She repeated that with a few more of them. Then she closed the box again. I’m insulted you assumed I would prescribe those.

Didn’t you get the information on the children’s medical status? Jema asked.

"Yes, but that doesn’t mean I would prescribe it, does it?"

Jema shrugged. I just thought that all educators and doctors—

"Yes on DJar, and not all doctors either, thank you."

Well most did. Jema stood up to leave.

So you took all the tablets and now you’re going back to the home to deal with a set of children all having withdrawal symptoms, all at the same time?

Jema had been about to open the door, but now she stopped. In her anger she’d forgotten about that. Aware of Irma watching every one of her steps, she returned to the couch. Okay, I’m sorry. What do I do?

You’ll have to build it down slowly.

Showing more pleasure than annoyance, Irma explained what to expect and what to do about the two boys. Take these back with you, label them properly, but keep them under your control. Children shouldn’t have their own medications. They could overdose in a spell of despair. I’ll write you up a sliding scale and bring it over shortly.

Jema took back the box that was handed her. I’m sorry I assumed you were like those headless idiots on DJar. I should have realized being here made you different.

For a moment Irma just studied her, but then she smiled. Maybe I should have informed you these children were on drugs. I thought I had time to deal with that.

Not sure how to respond, Jema repeated that she’d not intended to insult Irma. After all, the doctor had been here no longer than she had, was no older than Jema and was responsible for the health of everybody on the kabin.

Forget it, Irma answered. I prefer it if people think about these things rather than just keep feeding them to the children. But beware, some of these kids have been taking this for as much as twelve years. They may feel lost without it and it will take a long time to get them down to zero.

Jema understood and thanked her. Irma came to the home two hours later with the promised chart. She insisted Jema keep a daily record to monitor the results. She gave the two who were already sick something to calm them.

What I don’t understand, she said. "And this is not meant as criticism, is why you didn’t come to me earlier. If these kids haven’t been taking this for six days, the symptoms should have been there before.

Jema had considered that as well. I guess we didn’t know what to look for and we don’t know the children yet. There are that many of them and just three of us.

It was no wonder the normal ratio in a home was five kor to one carer. Without medications they’d need more adults here.

Irma instructed Jema to come to her every moon with the reports so she could adjust the scale if needed. Jema explained first to Tiya and Kiren and later to the children what was going to happen.

You can write up these daily reports, Tiya told her. I can’t even remember all their names.

Jema couldn’t either. They’d have their hands full yet.

Sister

With his artpack in his hands, Kunag watched the two people in the room with him, both trying to convince him of that which had nothing to do with him; both were Jari, his sister, who he’d only recently met.

One, the real one, stood in the middle of the small floor space between the mats and the chests. She waved her arms as she spoke and her voice rose and fell with the anger in her words. The other, her reflection in the large mirror on the wall, copied her movements with a slightly distorted face, for there was a crack in the mirror.

The crack had been made by Dad when he put it up yesterday. To make the room look bigger, Branag had said and pressed too hard on the glass. Then he had left it that way rather than try and take the mirror down again. Dad was like that. He had endless ideas for improving the places they’d lived, but something always happened. It still looks bigger.

Together they had tried to brighten up the rest of the room. Mom had given them some colourful mat covers to break up the dull grey. Mom and Jari, in the room next door, also had the covers but no mirror.

I don’t need to see myself getting up in the morning. It’s bad enough looking when I’ve had a chance to freshen up, Tini had told them.

Both Kunag and Branag assured her she looked fine the way she was. It wasn’t just words: Kunag had been very impressed with the mother he’d only remembered from photographs. But it was Jari who caused him to wake up in the middle of the night with confusing pictures in his head.

Jari was one of those warrior girls that only existed on screen; feisty and challenging, as well as unrealistically pretty. Only Jari was real. At least, one of these two was. But even the one with the line on her face outshone everything in the room. She had hair like wads of rich chocolate pudding, just like Dad’s, eyes like drops of molasses, also like Dad’s, and a body that the most perfect sculpture couldn’t match. Of course, that wasn’t like Dad’s, but she still looked more like Branag than Kunag had believed anybody could, like a gender-crossed clone.

He’d often wished for Dad’s eyes. His own were milk-chocolate that wasn’t mixed well. His hair was the shade he used for colouring dirt paths, needing more than one pencil, for there was no such shade. Some called it brown, others blond, but it was neither. Blonde was Mom; careful blonde, not too outspoken, like Tini herself.

But during their first moon together, Kunag had learned that though Mom may be quiet and Jari pretty emotional in her outbursts, it was Tini who had the final word. Even the decision to come on the journey had been made by Tini, and it was Kunag, not Dad or Jari, who had convinced her.

Kunag had not meant to do that. He’d only joined Dad for the trip to Telemer to say goodbye. Mom and Dad spoke over the wave sometimes, but Branag had wanted a real visit before leaving for good. The trip to the island had been a chance for a little holiday for Kunag.

When Tini asked why he’d agreed to go to Kun DJar, Kunag had said that there was so much of DJar he didn’t like – like what happened to the nobi in the creature park, which had upset him so much he’d never gone back. Why not? he’d said to Tini. Why not have a look at Kun DJar?

Why not? he’d added. Why not all go together? Instead of losing Jari, you’d have Branag back and me as well.

It had been only words, just for something to say, but before Branag and Kunag returned to the city she had agreed to sign on. Since then Kunag had dreamed of the kabin and of Jari.

He had pictured the spacekabin like the kabins that travelled the seas: dark, moist and crowded. Even though Dad had told him about the luxuries, like entertainment and sports areas, those details had somehow escaped his imagination. Only once here had he understood the size of this thing.

The whole idea of a street in the middle of a spacekabin was already enough to startle his mind. The street itself, of course, had no vans, so it consisted of a pedestrian walkway with patches of green beside it – a few biogen trees to make it look like DJar, a children’s playground even, opposite the social room, and here and there some benches and tables. The best thing about the street was that it went on forever. You didn’t have to turn around to get back home, you only had to keep walking.

Over on the other side was an identical street, also between two rows of apartments. In between were biongrass fields for games or for hanging out and the exits to the elevators that connected the different sections of the kabin.

Missing were the irregularities: the discarded toy, the broken pavestone or the smudged front door of DJar homes. Also missing were the sounds: a birdwing flying overhead, the bells announcing a coming electrovan and the constant buzzing of the electric power stations. Everything on SJilai even smelled new. That not-yet-used smell that would wear off, but which had Kunag restless that first moon.

Up high was the habitat roof, which had a long strip of panels, like windows, running parallel to the streets. The strip emitted a light as bright almost as Bijar, but it wasn’t Bijar shining. Branag had explained about the reflector tunnel that made light, like daylight, shine onto the three habitats.

So many impressions had made it impossible for Kunag to stop drawing that first moon. Now he was sketching his sister into his artpack. He tried to capture the fire of her words and eyes while she accused him of not even listening to her. But it was impossible not to. Only there was nothing he could do to help. Tini had the final say and Tini said that Jari would have to go to Learners on the kabin.

You have easy talking. You can go apprentice, Jari scolded him for it.

Maybe you can talk to someone else first to see if they won’t mind taking you as their apprentice. With their backup Mom may say yes, he replied.

She just tells me I should be glad to be here at all.

Oh come on, Jari. Don’t be so angry. He reached for her arm to stop her moving, but was a bit too fast and she stumbled forward. At the same time the reflection turned her back to him. Her sudden closeness made him burning hot. He let go of her just as Mom and Dad returned from their walk.

As soon as Mom and Jari had left to go to sleep, Branag said, Will you please remember that she’s still your sister?

What do you mean? Kunag asked. But he knew what Dad meant and took a bit longer to pull the shirt over his head.

Look son, it’s perfectly normal to feel the way you do, but try not to be so obvious about it, okay?

Kunag had not realized anything was obvious. He blushed when Dad took him by the shoulders.

There are plenty more things to get excited about on this kabin. Tomorrow I’ll show you all the stuff our team has worked on for the last two years. You’ll be amazed yet, Branag said and left it at that.

That was the great thing of having a dad who was a friend first.

Not Too Disappointed

The first moon on the kabin brought respite for Daili after the hectic last moons on DJar. Up to the last minute she’d been running around organizing their final goodbyes, along with the waves of emotions those caused her.

The girls thought the kabin was the best thing ever. They explored every corner of the habitat. Daili had to call them back a few times. Just because this is a spacekabin and not a town doesn’t mean you can look inside other people’s homes.

They had exhausted every screen room, the sports equipment, the games rooms and the children’s play area in front of the social room even though they were too big for it. A lot of younger children did play there and Daili was