Fifty three
Something bad always happens at the parade. She was shuffling up the walkways with others in her school. Mostly her own pod, but there were kids from other classes mixed in. She held up a bunched ribbon of LEDs in her left hand, with the battery swinging from a short wire under her upheld fist. In her right she held Cassy’s hand. Her sister held a similar cluster of lights in her other hand, too. She held on tight, as it was easy to lose your friends in the crowded darkness.
Besides her makeshift torch, she had another strip of lights running up from her breast pocket, where the battery was bulging uncomfortably, the lights going up her neck and around the top of her head like a crown of tiny flames. Cassy wore her lights as a necklace of stars. Andy was in front of them, wearing a similar necklace, while Jenn had multiple strips sewn directly into her outfit in different patterns. She could glimpse her back, adorned with lights shaped like angel wings, between the crowds walking in front of them. Bridgette had been helpful in making those designs, and also spent a good hour before they left, tangling the electric beads into a complicated hair design which involved multiple loops of hair and at least two long, metal, plasma-cutter electrodes that she stole from the workshop. Lyra couldn’t see her, though. She must have gotten delayed back in the last dome they passed. It was nearly impossible to catch up in the walkways with so many people marching.
The lights all across the habitat were turned off. Not just dimmed as they do during second-dark, but really turned off. Here and there you could see the light of some electric appliance that had an on-off indicator light, but the only lights that remained lit consistently across the entire structure were the soft fluorescent cats-eyes that lined the bottom of corridors and the outline of exits, marking them with a ghastly green glow, that was only noticeable in emergencies. And during the parade.
Of course, the place where the kids were now marching was not really dark. Each Adalian held at least one light strip. These were low-power, orange tinted diodes, made especially for the Landing Day Parade. They were dim enough that even when hundreds of people gathered together in a single dome, their combined light would only be strong enough to barely make out the shape of the steel struts above, and reflect only faintly on the glass triangles between them. She could still make out the stars. It was particularly beautiful, as a broad swath of the galactic core was visible that year.
Her sister looked up at the stars, and down at the other residents. They flowed down the corridor like a swarm of fireflies. Cassy smiled, as she often did back then. Lyra loved that smile. Though they had the same features, she always thought her sister’s smile was special. More innocent, unmarred by the world. That’s how her sister used to be, she thought. Her naive little sister. Except that they were born at the same time, exactly sixteen years ago, give or take a few days, just like everyone else in their pod. She used to be innocent, Lyra thought. But in the moment, she couldn’t remember where and how she’d lost it, her innocence. The sounds of drumming and strumming on steel strings was getting louder. Some of it coming from behind them, but most of it ringing out in the dome of Garden Zero, where the parade was coming to its conclusion.
“It’s so beautiful,” Cassy told her, and even though she couldn’t hear her over the music and other people’s excited exchanges, she could guess what her lips were saying. She could very nearly read her mind. Next, Cassy tried to call out to Andy to wait for them, but she couldn’t hear.
Finally, the procession made it to the garden dome, and they caught up to the other girls as the people poured into the open space, and found their places around the main fountain. Jenn was having a hard time finding a good line of sight behind the people already huddled closer to the pond. Andy, who was just as tall as Lyra and Cassy, easily looked over the crowd with only the mildest of interest. Lots of younger kids were already seated or standing in front of the stage. The older students were usually last to come in, while the adults, who joined at their own discretion, generally kept to the edges of the dome. They’ve seen many such rituals already.
Above the now-turned-off fountain at the middle of the pond was a stage, assembled out of steel scaffolding, and on top of that was an intricate set of stainless steel pipes, with gas burners at their ends, each burning away a mixture of methane with other trace elements, in red, orange, gold, white and blue flames. The deep blue was supposed to be purple, for the pilots, but they never managed to get that flame to be real violet. And the white flame was really just bright yellow.
Behind and slightly above the fountain of flames, an old man stood in what looked like fancy merchant robes. He had gray, wispy hair, and wore a golden pin with the symbol of the star in the hand. This was the habitat admin. He had been admin of Alamosa since Lyra was born, and probably a good, long time before that. Admin Dale, maybe? She knew his first name, too, of course. It just didn’t pop up in her mind just then. That would be strange, but she didn’t notice it.
The last of the students came into the garden, and shuffled slowly into the dark dome, to find places to stand where they could observe and not get in the way. She didn’t see any medical teams taking care of minor accidents that usually happen when seven hundred people walk around the kilometers of walkways in near-total darkness. She didn’t hear any equipment alarms from someone having pushed the wrong button while in a hurry to join the parade under a once-in-a-year darkness. She was getting worried though.
“Did you see where Bridgette went?” she asked Cassy. Her sister had a look around, but didn’t let go of her hand.
“I don’t see a lot of people from our class,” she answered after a few moments. “But they could be on the other side of the pond.”
She tried asking the other girls.
“I thought she was with you,” said Andy.
The light of the gas burners turned down, to the faintest of flames. After a few seconds, the many lights held and worn by the people of Alamosa habitat started to wink out as well. The drumming and strumming had stilled. Everyone grew silent and the only sounds came from the big fans and the occasional steel creaking of the ground-wheel and the cables that held it. The man above the flames straightened up and cleared his throat. The last remaining lights in the hands of young children were snuffed out by nearby teachers and caretakers, to the inevitable sounds of protests and crying. Nonetheless, the hab-admin began, his face barely seen in the flickering fire light, the rest of the room shrouded in the deepest darkness. All eyes turned to him. The darkness and stillness all around was matched only by memories of the times she had stood alone on the sands under a starry black sky.
“I am excited, today,” he said, happily. “It has been many years, that I’ve been conducting this ceremony. Most of you have known me all of your lives. As most of you realize, I have been attending the parade ever since the day of the actual Landing. For most of that time, I had been the one conducting the ritual.”
There were some shuffling and whispering among the crowd. But he continued. “I want to tell you, once again, how proud I am of each and every one of you. I have seen the Adalian people survive, in the harshest conditions the human race has ever faced. For that alone I am proud of you, and me, and the generations that have not despaired in spite of the meagre existence we have left to us. But there is more to be proud of. I have been asked to convey to you, from our Prime Council…”
When he said that, someone booed him loudly from the other side of the garden, but was quickly shushed down. The admin didn’t seem to notice that.
“Our Prime Council asserts that the human race should not only strive for survival in Adalia, but also to thrive, and live full, happy lives. What I see before me makes me proud, and happy, the people of our habitat doing just that, every day. With music, and laughter, and hard work, of course, and in particular the raising of the next generations of Adalians.”
A lot of the grown-ups nodded and congratulated each other when he said that. The teenagers rolled their eyes and sighed with embarrassment.
“But enough speeches.” He waved off his own rambling, then raised his hands. His voice got deeper, and filled the large room.
“Old Earth was no more,” he boomed. “The Arvad, humanity’s Ark, traveled across the galaxy to find a new home for those that were left.”
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She heard some people talking in hushed voices behind her. It was Bridgette. She had just come in from the hatch. She seemed upset.
“Even though the Arvad had been turned astray, it managed to pull through, to find humanity a new home, here in Adalia.”
The flames from the fountain grew brighter, a rhythmic drum pounded softly.
“The decision was not an easy one. Some still regret it to this day.”
The flames kept growing, lighting the underside of his wrinkled face as though he was something from a nightmare. The banging got stronger, like ancient thunder.
“The people of the Arvad had to survive. They could not go back, they would not perish in the night.”
She glanced back again. Her teacher was talking to Bridgette, in the back rows, but her friend was just shaking her head and refusing to say anything.
“They made the ultimate sacrifice, tearing apart the lifeline that had brought them here.”
Now she was headed toward them, pushing by people in her way. Her eyes were glistening, her hair tangled.
“Like the Phoenix, the Arvad crashed and burned, but her broken body gave us shelter, her fire gave us warmth.”
The flames were sprouting taller than the man, illuminating the room, each viewer casting long dancing shadows at those behind him.
“What happened?” Lyra turned away from the ceremony and came to meet her friend. The other girls surrounded them, too.
“He asked me to come with him,” she said, almost crying. “It was exciting, I guess.” She looked down, sniffled. “In the darkness and with everyone going on we just slipped into one of the hab-units. I never… I mean, I wanted to see the hab when it was dark and no one was around.”
“The fire drove us from ancient Earth, and was now scattered on a thousand worlds…” The speaker kept going, repeating the ritual they had heard every year since they were born.
“What happened?” Cassy asked her, softly.
“Who did this?” Lyra said, at the same time, but much more fiercely.
The first rays of dawn touched the edge of the dome. The ritual continued, speaking of sacrifice and endurance and rebirth. They’ve heard it all before. The timing was perfect, as always. The great march in the dark, culminated in the return of the light. The drums and steel guitars pounded to a crescendo.
“He started touching me, and…” she was speaking so quietly now, they could barely piece together what she was saying above the cheering crowd and banging of drums. “I told him I didn’t want that, but he blocked my way out.”
“Who did this?” Lyra asked again, louder.
Bridgette just looked away. The intricate hair loops were half undone, a string of lights so cleverly tied up in it, now hanging loosely on her back. “He didn’t do anything, really. I didn’t let him,” she said, trying to sound tough. “He’s just so big. I tried to get past him, but he was just so big.”
The dawn had come, slowly taking over more of the garden with each revolution. Lyra looked back to the entrance from the walkways. She saw him come in, ducking his head under the top of the hatch, where there was plenty of clearance for most other people on the hab. Jenn was trying to fix Bridgette’s hair, while Cassy gave her a hug and tried to tell her it was all going to be alright. Lyra stared at him. The anger bubbled inside her like nitrogen melting.
The growing light that had been slowly swinging around the habitat suddenly flickered. It got bright and dark so rapidly, as though everything was blowing up and snuffing out at closer and closer intervals. She felt as though she was falling, jolting awake from the sudden lack of gravity under her. Her body snapped forward against the velcro restraints, as if she was ready to hit the floor. She kept falling. The slightest of gravity held her, but she barely felt it, having just now been standing on her own two feet in her dream.
Her stall on the ship. Still accelerating, but the gravity almost undetectable. She groaned. She wiped sweat off her forehead. She could still feel everything that gripped her in hear dream. She still had that taste in her mouth. Metallic, as though she had bitten herself. She could still taste it. Hatred.
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