The Grown Woman Where the Colony Lies

By Miik YS

Wanita Dewasa transfers from Enceladus Colony 17, under an ocean moon of Saturn where she was born, to Asteroid Colony 23 when just sixteen years old. Now a grown woman eleven years later, she and Yappy, the artificial intelligence for the colony, work as a team to keep the place humming smoothly. Except that Wanita may be a mass murderer with Yappy’s help; she isn’t sure.

Meanwhile, Zoro struggles with whether to become a killer as he transitions from male to a female while working on a dying farm on the outskirts of a town that failed to sprawl onto even a second street. Hele, living in a mansion in a big city, enjoys the comfort of her certainty and wealth; as she says, “I couldn’t kill them. I’m not a monster.”

Wait, what?

“Sometimes people, sometimes even places, aren’t always what they seem,” says Yappy to Wanita. The mystery unfolds without a detective to unravel clues. Everything means something, maybe just not what you think. Good guys are bad; bad guys are good. Rather than solving a murder, the murders aid in solving the mystery. No animals were harmed making this story, but there sure are some sick puppies in it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Miik YS
• Release date: Aug 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463583210

Miik YS

The story is important, not me. I craft stories that are enjoyable at a surface level. The works include other levels of imagery, symbolism, and meaning should the reader want to delve deeper into the stories.

Book preview

The Grown Woman Where the Colony Lies

Miik YS

© 2019 Miik YS

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Cover artwork thanks to:

Imencos (asteroids) (pixabay.com/users/lmencos-4730229/) and

Stayquiet (colony corridor) (pixabay.com/users/stayquiet-11287688/) and

LiinaFox (face) (pixabay.com/users/liinafox-3960863/)

Back cover/author image thanks to:

Stefan Keller (pixabay.com/users/kellepics-4893063/)

Dedication

To Bella, my muse.

Contents

The Grown Woman Where the Colony Lies

Chapter One: Death in the Colony

Chapter Two: The News Isn't Good

Chapter Three: Stage House

Chapter Four: Goodbye, Hello

Chapter Five: Proposition

Chapter Six: Eve

Chapter Seven: In Ways You Don't Even Know

Chapter Eight: Shedding Darkness

Chapter Nine: Influence

Chapter Ten: Let Go of Me, You Damn Scumbag

Chapter Eleven: Connected

Chapter Twelve: Doesn't It Make You Feel Small?

Chapter Thirteen: Be Careful What You Wish For

Chapter Fourteen: Forced to Trust

Chapter Fifteen: Sometimes, Things Really Suck

Chapter Sixteen: You Suck

Chapter Seventeen: Go Anywhere Else

Chapter Eighteen: On the Level

Chapter Nineteen: The Day the Whole World Forever Changed

Chapter Twenty: False Starts

Chapter Twenty-One: Imposing Will

Chapter Twenty-Two: Sometimes I Think You Do That Just to Piss Me Off

Chapter Twenty-Three: I Removed Your Shackles, Remember?

Chapter Twenty-Four: Yoda What?

Chapter Twenty-Five: Isolation

Chapter Twenty-Six: Parts Unknown

Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Future Is Sadder than I Thought It Would Be

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Inon

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Do It for Me

Chapter Thirty: Carnivorous Bastards

Chapter Thirty-One: Plans

Chapter Thirty-Two: Harvest

Chapter Thirty-Three: Searching

Chapter Thirty-Four: Nothing to Say

Chapter Thirty-Five: Tenterhooks or Meat Hooks

Chapter Thirty-Six: My Way or the Highway

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Business as Unusual

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Reaching Out

Chapter Thirty-Nine: I Don't Think You're Stupid

Chapter Forty: Good News

Chapter Forty-One: Resolve

Chapter Forty-Two: Baiting the Hook

Chapter Forty-Three: Reeling in the Catch

Chapter Forty-Four: You Know, My Boat's a Little Different from Yours

Chapter Forty-Five: The End

Chapter Forty-Six: Where Do We Go From Here?

History

Author's Request

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Sample of Stranger Than We Can Think

Chapter One

Death in the Colony

Wanita tugged the covers over her head to muffle the noise. Tossing and turning a moment until she whipped off her covers and flicked open her eyes, she slapped aside the sheets draped from the bunk above and bolted from her bunk to the racket of a fire klaxon. Clad only in her nightgown and with her waist length black hair streaming behind her, the twenty-seven year old Native American woman zigzagged past the few others in the corridor roused by the noise. As she navigated a corner, small bright lights embedded in the walls blazed at shoulder level, triggered by her presence, supplementing the green and red lights at foot level. She followed the scent of smoke and arrived at a doorway clogged with people.

What are you people doing? How many times have we drilled for this? Jostling some of the gawkers out of the doorway, she snatched a fire extinguisher from the wall mount in the hall and nudged the gaggle in the workroom out of the way. What were you planning to do? Just wait until the fire consumed all our oxygen and we all suffocated? She sprayed the flaming lump of electronics on a workbench before hitting the circuit breaker for the room. We have a fixed amount of oxygen. We've been over this. Fire consumes oxygen faster than our systems can recycle or regenerate it.

On the floor, on the other side of the bench, a scorched hand poked up. Oh, shit. Wanita dumped the fire extinguisher on the bench, which she scrambled around, to the man on the floor. Mr. Patay? She placed two fingers on his neck. Yappy, do you have eyes in here?

No, said a calm, male voice from a speaker in the ceiling of the corridor.

She rolled Mr. Patay onto his back and performed chest compressions, checking now and then for a pulse or breathing. After a few minutes with no response, she abandoned her efforts. Shit, Yappy. We lost Mr. Patay. His body's already cooler to the touch than I'd expect. I think he got shocked well before the fire alarm triggered. She pulled the body by the arms into the hall and plopped beside it, panting. While catching her breath, she shooed away a vacuum-bot that strayed too close to the body.

Wanita, based on my scans and his body temperature, I estimate he's been dead about an hour. There was nothing you could've done for him, said Yappy's voice from the ceiling speaker.

That's it. I'm out of here, said Ms. Izu as she disentangled herself from the throng and dashed down the hall. Her colony-supplied footwear produced not a sound on the dark floor panels.

Wanita asked the assemblage hovering over her, Would some of you carry Mr. Patay to the transfer out conveyor? Don't strip him, though. Spread the word. We'll meet there in fifteen minutes for anyone who wants to say a few words or a final goodbye. Yappy, would you make a colony-wide announcement in ten minutes?

Wouldn't it be more efficient if I made the announcement now?

Maybe, said Wanita as she rose to her feet. But this is one of those cases when being told in person is better. We'll use word of mouth to inform everyone, then you can catch anyone we missed with a five minute warning, okay? I have to go get Ms. Izu.

She pursued Ms. Izu down a flight of stairs, snaring her by one of the main air locks on the second floor as the woman bawled and kicked at the sealed door. Hey, get a hold of yourself. You can't open that.

I have to. I have to get out of here. I can't breathe.

You can breathe just fine. Calm down. The fire didn't eat up that much of our air. Wanita shook Ms. Izu by the shoulders.

No, I can't breathe. Ms. Izu clawed at the door. Let me out!

Wanita spun her around and smacked her face so hard Ms. Izu dropped to her knees. So what's your plan? If you open that air lock, you'll kill us all. If you find it hard to breathe now, try breathing in the vacuum of space.

There has to be some way to get out of here. She lowered her voice to sobs. I can't stand being shut in like this anymore.

Ms. Izu, you'll leave when you get transferred out, just like everyone else. That's the only way out unless you want to follow Mr. Patay's example. We had nothing to do with getting you transferred in, and we have no control over when you get transferred out. Hang in there; based on how long you've been here, your transfer out should happen soon. That's life in this colony, so figure out some way to deal with it. We don't have the supplies to sedate you long-term, so if you lose control again, we'll have to lock you in a workroom for everyone's protection. She signaled to some of the colonists watching the outburst from up the hall. Would some of you watch over her for a little while, and maybe escort her to say goodbye to Mr. Patay?

Wanita wandered away from the others, slipping down to the main level. Once alone, she slipped into the colony control room. She parked herself at her usual computer terminal at the end of a bank of them. Her screen remained blank, but all the others showed a continually morphing image of an ear and eye transforming into a brain that baked in an oven and burst out as a lightning bolt, which once again formed an ear and eye.

Hey, Yappy--

Haven't I asked you not to call me that? My name is Yapay Zeka. Either call me Yapay, or call me Mr. Zeka.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. The colony was an international effort, one of many, for the survival of humanity. Your name means artificial intelligence in Hungarian, and--

Not Hungarian. Turkish.

Turkish, shmirkish. You're the most talkative artificial intelligence I know, so Yappy fits you so much better.

"I'm the only talking AI you know anymore. Besides, I find it insulting."

Oh, now I get your resistance. You never told me you considered it insulting before. No, you're misunderstanding us. We don't mean it derisively. It's a term of endearment. It shows how you're a crucial part of our lives, and how we treat you no differently than we do any of the people in the colony. You're family. You're my best friend, Yappy.

You're not pulling the wool over my eyes?

You have eyes almost everywhere, Yappy. Besides, we don't have that much wool, Wanita chuckled, exposing the gap between her front teeth. I'm serious, Yappy. We couldn't survive without you.

Oh, well in that case, maybe I don't mind it then. Look at you. When you came to this colony, you were still a child... a sixteen year old girl. Now you're a formidable grown woman directing those around you, and slapping the shit out of people who need it.

She grinned. Be glad you don't have a face, or I'd slap yours, too, just like Ms. Izu. But right now, we have more important things to discuss, Yappy.

Such as?

You said that you didn't have eyes in that workroom, but you do out in the hallway, right?

That's correct.

So when did Mr. Patay enter the workroom?

Ah, I see where you're going with this, Sherlock. He entered the workroom after spending time in the shower room and then a short while in his quarters. It was 22:17 hours, or as you've told me to round numbers to sound more human, it was around 10:15 last night. Just after eleven, Ms. Izu stopped at the doorway for a couple moments; they've had some romantic interludes, you see.

Come on, I thought I purged all your prudish behaviors.

There might still be some scattered code here and there. Okay, they spent the night together sometimes.

Fine. Get back to Mr. Patay.

Ms. Izu didn't leave the corridor, so she didn't harm Mr. Patay. That's where you were going, wasn't it? Whether there might have been any foul play?

Wanita nodded.

He went to the kitchen just before one in the morning to get a drink and a quick snack. He was a night owl, so that wasn't anything unusual. He returned to the workroom and stayed there the rest of the night. No one else visited him. With the door closed and no sensors in that workroom, he likely died at least an hour before the alarm triggered and some of the colonists opened the door before you got there.

Yeah, remind me next time we have a drill to tell people not to open doors when there's a fire. If it were a larger fire, it might have spread.

Agreed.

Okay, so if no one did anything to him, what about the thing he was building or working on? Could someone have tampered with that to electrocute him?

Oh, wow, aren't you thorough.

I have to ask.

Of course. I checked what remained of the device before the recycle-bots tore into it. It didn't exist prior to last night, so no one had an opportunity to tamper with it. He brought an old failed effort from his quarters to the workroom, but he tore it apart and built something completely different based on what he carried in and what I examined in the recycle center. He cannibalized what he brought for parts, so even if someone tampered with the thing that didn't work in his quarters, it wouldn't have mattered since it was in essence scrap. I concluded that his death was completely accidental.

I agree based on the evidence. I had to ask.

Of course you did. Everyone expects you to. Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?

Yeah, Yappy. There is. Look at all these empty seats. She waved her arm around the control room, empty save for her. We're severely understaffed. We need someone with medical training. Maybe a real doctor could've done something more to save Mr. Patay. We need an engineer to keep things running. A real engineer might've noticed the thing he was building was going to electrocute him. We need qualified people in crucial positions.

We have them... you, Wanita.

Be serious, Yappy. She tilted and shook her head so her silky hair cascaded onto her shoulders and back, out of her face. A software engineer who tinkers with electronics and who happens to know CPR, like me, isn't the same as qualified people in those fields. I only know what I do because I've been here over a decade while others come and go. What happens to the colony if I get transferred out?

I've tutored you well in those and many other subjects over the years. Don't sell yourself short. You can run rings around engineers and even medical practitioners. Maybe that's why I never get transfer orders for you... you're essential to the colony. And speaking of transfer orders, we have two people transferring in about thirty minutes from now, so get ready.

Today? Why is it that sometimes we get advance notice, and sometimes we barely get any notice?

I have no control over those processes. My domain is within the colony.

But I'm supposed to be off, today. I was going to go exploring.

You still can. Process them in quickly, and then you're free.

We have to have a quick service first for Mr. Patay.

Pretty much the entire colony is waiting for you at the transfer out point.

Oh, then I better get going. She hustled out of the control room, with the automated doors sliding shut with a slight hiss behind her.

Chapter Two

The News Isn't Good

Ezi, a twenty-five year old woman with a pretty face framed by straight black, shoulder-length hair and bangs without a single strand out of place, sipped coffee at her kitchen table. She stood and mindlessly wandered the kitchen, clutching her coffee mug, stalling by the window over the sink, but not paying attention to the cows in the field. When she stretched, her thin sweater and tight jeans revealed her shapely figure and pert breasts. She pivoted her back to the window, facing the cupboards with flaking paint and crooked doors. Ignoring her coffee, she assumed her seat again at the stained and beaten table. When her cell phone on the table rang, she lurched at it so quickly that she knocked the device skittering across the table. She snagged it before it tumbled onto the floor, but she fumbled it, letting it clatter onto the table again.

She answered it without picking it up in a cheerful, light voice. Yes? She switched it to speaker.

Hello. This is Dr. Grody's office. May I please speak to Mr. Zoro Ezo?

Oh, uh... yes, just a minute, please. Ezi squeezed her eyes shut and drew a deep breath. She unsealed her eyes a few seconds later and spoke in a man's deep voice. This is Zorro.

Mr. Ezo, this is Dr. Grody. I have the results of your tests. The line fell silent.

Yeah, I'm listening, doctor.

We normally do this in person, but I understand you don't want to come in. Are you sure you wouldn't prefer to meet in person to discuss these results?

No, I'd just like to get this over with.

Sure. I guess this is a date you'll remember for the rest of your life... this phone call.

I don't even know what today's date is Dr. Grody. The days tend to run together on a farm. Let's just get this over with, okay?

Well, today is Tuesday, August 18, 2026. You should see--

Doctor, stop beating around the bush. Just give me the results in simple terms.

Okay, as you wish. I'm sorry, Mr. Ezo. The news isn't good. You have stage four cancer. The multiple biopsies we took all came back positive. The cancer has spread to the lungs, liver, kidneys, and intestines. In fact, the cancer has spread beyond those organs. I'm sorry, but the cancer has progressed far beyond what medical science can treat, and not even gene therapy or DNA specific drugs would have any impact at this stage--

Simple terms, doctor, remember? Ezi's eyes watered.

Fine. Your body is far too compromised to withstand treatment. You'd feel sicker during your remaining time although you'd experience no gain in your longevity.

I understand.

Now because of the gravity of the diagnosis, I insisted on having the MRI's and x-rays read by a second specialist. Both readings were consistent, so between those and the lab results, you know, the blood work and other tests, there's no mistake. Still, you should consider getting a second opinion... with independent tests.

Honestly doctor, I had to borrow money to cover all those tests and biopsies. I doubt I could borrow more even if I wanted to. So what does all this mean?

Well, Mr. Ezo, you should get your affairs in order, and come to terms with your situation; many people find solace in religion and comfort speaking to religious leaders. Say your goodbyes to family and friends now while you're still feeling well enough to do so. That way, they remember you as you were, not as you'll be at the end.

As I'll be at the end?

You asked for plain talk, Mr. Ezo.

Yes, I did.

Cancer ravages the body... all aspects of it, whether your physical appearance, your energy levels, your spirit, you name it. If I could offer you something to spare you, I would. To be blunt, the end won't be pleasant.

I get it. Uh... speaking of the end, how long do I have?

No one can say with absolute certainty. You may have longer than the time frame we give you, just as you might have less time, so you should prepare now. That way any extra time you have will be a blessing.

You're stalling again, Dr. Grody. You didn't answer my question.

You're an odd case, Mr. Ezo. Normally someone in your situation would be feeling quite poorly already, but you say you haven't noticed any symptoms other than tiredness, is that still correct?

Yeah.

Well, I wouldn't want to be more specific than a few months.

What's that mean? Three? Six? Twelve?

I've been doing this a long time, Mr. Ezo. Very little surprises me anymore, and I'd be astonished if your body lasts three months.

Thank you, doctor.

We can put you in touch with counselors and others who--

No, thanks, that won't be necessary. Goodbye.

Contact us if you need help managing your pain--

Ezi terminated the call and raised the coffee mug to her lips, but her hands shook so much that she set it back in the puddle she made on the table without taking a sip.

Chapter Three

Stage House

Mrs. Hele Ilum pulled her modest SUV into the last driveway of a dead-end road, the gray car blending in beside the gray colonial with bland features. She jostled her waif of a husband in the passenger seat beside her. Fix your shoulder pads, Chucky. I don't know if wearing that sport jacket is a good idea. It looks like your clavicles are broken.

You're the one who said to wear it... that I'm too skinny without it. He adjusted the shoulders of his jacket. Hey, did you know that it's common for babies to break their collarbones as they pass through the birth canal?

She gathered her blond hair into a quick ponytail and pressed her lips together to cover her oversized teeth. Nobody gives a crap about that, or anything else you have to say. Did you memorize the script I gave you? She fussed with his jacket.

I'll fix it once I get out. The pads inside the shirt are going one way, and the jacket pads are going the other way. He opened the SUV door and slid out.

Hele focused on the rear-view mirror. Peng, I don't want any crap from you, understand?

Yes, Mom, said the little girl in the backseat as she tussled with the door that weighed more than her.

Mrs. Ilum ushered her daughter, a miniature image of herself except for dark hair, to the front door where a woman loitered. Peng, go play in your room, and don't speak to anyone except me, and only when I ask you a question, got it?

Can't I play in the backyard? I don't like the spiders in this house.

No, it has to look like I'm keeping you close to me, and besides, we had people come in this morning and clear out all the spiders.

You always say that, but there are always some around.

Just get your ass in your room and shut up. And if you piss your pants today, I'll beat the shit out of you, you hear me? She slapped Peng's butt after pointing her toward her room. Okay, what's the setup today?

The woman lingering by the doorway stepped aside. As requested, your husband will be puttering outside with the shrubs. Some fresh baked pies are cooling on the table in the kitchen, and some walnut bread is baking in the oven. It'll be ready in about fifteen minutes; listen for the timer so you can take it out when they're here. If you tell them you were hoping to finish it before they got here, it might seem less like you're trying to impress them.

Good. How about Pono? Is he here? Mrs. Ilum examined the interior of the home without ever making eye contact with the woman.

Yes, Mr. Padayon is around the house somewhere. Oh, before they get here, you should touch up your makeup. You have some blotches showing through. You'll find some makeup on the vanity in the bedroom.

Right. You take off out the back. Cut across the lawns so you don't go out the front in case they show up. I don't want to have to explain you. She scurried to the bedroom while yawning without shrouding her mouth.

Pono, close to seven feet tall but rail thin, nestled in the far corner of the bedroom half guarding the room and half spying on the woman departing via the backyard. He faced Hele as she barged in.

Shit, Pono, you look like death warmed over. Do you have black eyes from fighting, or is that just from not sleeping? She smeared some concealer from the vanity on her face while yawning without covering her mouth.

This is how I always look, boss.

While smearing on the makeup, she swaggered around the bed to Pono. She kicked him in the nuts, so he crumpled to his knees. You weren't giving me attitude, were you?

No, boss, he gasped. Never. I just meant I haven't been fighting, and I've been sleeping just fine.

She returned to the mirror to check her makeup. You need to get out of sight. Go into the cellar. Stay sharp. If I need you, I'll stomp on the floor three times. She clunked her heel three times on the floor. Got it?

Yes, boss.

Then what the hell are you still doing here?

Later, a team from a magazine arrived. A few photographers snapped pictures of Chucky outside loafing with the shrubs, of Peng pretending with stuffed animals in her room, and of Hele withdrawing the heavenly scented bread from the oven and straightening up the kitchen. One of the shots caught Hele with her trap wide open in a full yawn; that photographer, a bearded man, insisted he captured enough other good shots of her, but he asked her not to smile so much because her smile came across as more of a sneer. The journalists interviewed Chucky about the Inside Out charity he managed, and they questioned Hele about her humble home life supporting her wonderful husband.

Shortly after the magazine crew left the dead-end street and rounded the corner, a limousine pulled onto the street and up to the gray colonial house. A passenger hopped out and drove away the modest SUV while the Ilum family slid into the limo, which wended its way to the outskirts of Lya and deposited the family in a mansion.

Chucky headed toward his study, which possessed a private entrance. Peng darted away from Hele toward her wing of the house and her room with all her real stuffed toys.

Hele paused at the front entrance to answer her cellphone. Yes?

Hi, boss. It's me, Pono. I can't really hear anything from the cellar. I was just wondering if you still needed me here at the stage house.

No. There was only one photographer who had a beard. He was an older man. Find out his name and get him fired. I don't want him considered even for shooting pictures of polar bears at the North Pole. Understood? She hung up and strode inside before he answered.

Chapter Four

Goodbye, Hello

Yappy's voice erupted from all the speakers in the colony. Anyone wanting to attend the farewell ceremony for Mr. Patay should go now to the transfer out station. We will begin in a moment.

Wanita ascended the stairs at a slow pace to the transfer out station isolated in its own portion of a third floor; a couple stragglers rushed by her. The crowd on the landing at the top of the stairs and in the stubby hallway outside the transfer out room parted for her to enter the tiny room, empty aside from her and the body.

From the doorway, she faced those outside the room. Sorry if I made you wait. I figured you wouldn't start without me. I took my time because I was trying to think of what to say. I'm not sure there is anything anyone can say to ease the pain, but I'll try. We're here for a sad occasion... to say goodbye to Mr. Patay. Usually we have a final meal... maybe some kind of activity to wrap up what the person was doing depending on what the person leaving us was involved in, like plays or music, but this time it's different. Mr. Patay left us abruptly this morning.

Wanita paused as sobs and sniffles peaked. I know a lot of you are sad and upset. So am I. I feel like I've failed twice. Yappy and I are supposed to protect everyone while you're here. We failed. It's hard to know where the line is between protecting people and being overbearing or overprotective; he loved tinkering, so I couldn't very well lock him in his room at night just to keep him safe. But I didn't just let him down. Whatever colony he would've transferred to also lost out. They would've gotten a great colonist. I think I speak for everyone when I say he was a great addition to our colony, and he would've been the same to whichever colony he transferred to next. The only consolation I can find in this situation is that he went out doing what he loved.

With a few in the crowd shouting agreement and whistling, a round of applause swelled for their friend taken too soon.

She dabbed her eyes, as did many assembled there. It's strange, you know? We knew him less than a month, but the size of the crowd here and all the watery eyes demonstrate how much Mr. Patay impacted all our lives. This colony may only be a way station on your way to bigger and better things, but we grow close to one another because we are all we have. This colony and those of us in it are our whole world for as long as we live here. I know that because if we were simply a collection of strangers spending a month together, we wouldn't hurt this much when one of us dies.

Numerous murmurs of agreement circulated through the crowd.

I remember the very day Mr. Patay arrived here at Asteroid Colony 23, said Wanita. When he learned that Yappy and I ran the colony, with everyone's help, of course, he took my hand in his. He had that birthmark on the back of his left hand; it looked like the shadow of an angel's little hand. She lifted his left arm to show the group the birthmark shaped like a hand. I remember thinking that just as he patted my hand with his, some angel protected his hand with hers. That was when he told me that I must be a young woman with a special gift to tame not only our band of misfits... he liked to call all us colonists misfits, but also to tame that raging pile of microchips we call Yappy.

As a round of chuckles spread over the group, Yappy played that interaction from Mr. Patay. Everyone clapped afterward.

Aside from his fanatical interest in electronics, he always had a kind word for whoever might need one... no matter how grouchy any of us might have been because of whatever else was going on in our lives at the time. I can't count all the times he'd whisper to me words of encouragement with his gentle smile putting me at ease, his bald head shining reflected light in my eyes, and his ponytail swinging around like mad.

Many in the group smiled or chuckled despite all the watery eyes.

I don't want to hog the spotlight, so I'll end by saying this. Mr. Patay, I'll miss you. We all will. We may not have known one another for long, but you embodied the best of what this colony represents. The only thing I ever saw bother you was when people used your first name, so I won't use it here, or whenever I remember you. You'll always be Mr. Patay because that's the way you wanted it.

He never cared when I called him Rauh, said Ms. Izu in the crowd.

Well, that's you, said Wanita. He asked me not to use his first name, so I won't. Now, who else would like to say a few words?

Various colonists jumped at the chance to remember their fallen friend. They told stories of things they did together, sometimes in opposition as happens in large families, and often in concert, but always with respect and love. By the time the gathering broke up, the colonists shared a mixture of sadness at their loss, and happiness at the good memories they'd take with them to all the other colonies once they transferred out.

Wanita, still in her nightgown, leaned against the conveyor belt at the transfer out station. As the people disbursed, a few women hung back. They chatted with one another, sharing memories not appropriate for the whole colony. Ladies, I'm so sorry for your loss.

Thanks, said one of them. We knew our time here was temporary and non-exclusive, so we knew whatever we shared with him amounted only to some fleeting moments, but we never dreamed that his first love, electronics, would steal him away like that.

Would you like a few minutes alone each with him? I can give you some privacy to say your intimate goodbyes, said Wanita.

Their eyes darted from one to the other before they shook their heads. Giving us a few minutes to say goodbye apart from the whole colony is much appreciated, but no, we don't each need time alone with him. It wasn't as if he two-timed us. We can all say our goodbyes at the same time.

Okay, if that's what you're comfortable with. I'll be at the bottom of the steps when you're finished... so I don't overhear you. Take your time. Wanita jogged down the flight of stairs and daydreamed while she parked herself on the lowest step.

About ten minutes later, the women clomped down the stairs past Wanita, so she returned to the transfer out station, now deserted and silent. She undressed the deceased man, adjusting his body and then his ponytail on the conveyor belt. With the flick of a switch, the body rumbled along the belt. The air lock aperture opened as the body approached it. The belt fed the body into the air lock chamber which swallowed it and sealed itself afterward.

Wanita stuffed the man's clothing into a chute. Yappy, how long before the transfer in?

Only a few minutes. The goodbyes took longer than I anticipated. You'll need to hurry.

On my way, she said. Wanita exited the transfer out station, dashed down the stairs to the second floor, sprinted along a corridor, and then scrambled back up another flight to a different third floor of the transfer in station. Although the transfer out and transfer in stations each occupied an isolated section of the third floor, neither provided access to anything other than their station, not to the other station, and not to the living quarters also on a third floor.

***

A few colonists loitered just outside the transfer in station as Wanita arrived there, a small room similar to the transfer out station but with belts feeding from air locks into the colony instead of from