| |
‘Do you want to live on the moon?’ the large, white letters on the poster asked Mason. He couldn’t shove the poster out of his face because Melody, his five-year-old daughter, had put it there. He hated everything about that poster. All it did was give people false hope—all it had done was give Melody false hope.
From the moment she’d laid eyes on the poster, she’d wanted to live on the moon. The inaccuracy of the photo on the poster was of no consequence to her. It was a pretty one, the giant moon in the backdrop of a modern city with bright lights and an ocean view did bring stars to many an eye. He’d loved the joy it gave Melody until the day the selection committee had told him that he’d have to leave her behind. ‘Her health issues make her unfit for the community we’re trying to create,’ they’d said. Those filthy bureaucrats couldn’t even say asthma.
He hadn’t had the heart to break the news to Melody. He didn’t want her to run away like his father had when his grandfather had broken similar news; and he couldn’t leave her like his father had because abandonment had made him a bitter, inconsiderate bastard. He couldn’t leave her alone on Earth where the toxic air burned windpipes and lungs, sun scorched eyes, and acid rain scalded skin. Besides, no guardians would take on the burden of an asthmatic child. He didn’t miss his father because Joseph and Lydia were great guardians, but he knew Melody wouldn’t find any as good.
So, he had tried to resign as captain of the ISA909 and they had threatened to terminate him from the International Space Agency. That would mean he had no allowances nor insurance and he and Melody would have nothing—they’d be abandoned in the wasteland the world had become. A week after he had been told he couldn’t take his daughter to the moon, during a heavy downpour, he concluded he liked their chances out there better. He was determined to find a way to get Melody to the moon, and he had. Then he’d told Melody a lie about a special compartment in the ship that was made for little princesses like her.
She’d been ecstatic and couldn’t wait to see her special place. Her excitement so great, that she hadn’t questioned their arrival at ISA headquarters in the middle of the night. Presently, as he tucked her into the slumber tube he’d designed for her, she expressed deep approval at her dwellings for the next two days. Part of her celebratory routine was a fervent display of her poster, fingers pointing at the large letters, asking him if he wanted to live on the moon.
‘Can I put that away for you, sweetie? You don’t want to lose it before we get to our new home,’ he said, a hand absentmindedly running through her bushy hair.
‘No!’ she cried, clutched the poster close to her chest, and frowned at him. He smiled as authentic a smile as he was capable of.
‘Do you want it to get lost?’ he asked.
She only held the poster closer, ‘I want to look at it on the ship.’
He brushed his fingers across her forehead and looked her straight in the eye. ‘But you’ll be asleep. You can’t look at it while you’re asleep, can you?’
Melody shook her head in reply.
‘Then will you be a good girl and let me put it away?’ he asked, then widened his eyes at her. He knew she couldn’t resist smiling at him. She had always loved the way his polychromatic bionic left eye focused on her when he widened his eyes and thought it was magical. The joy in her eyes gave him something good to attach to his bionic eye; something that wasn’t the space accident that almost killed him. She loosened her hold on the poster, allowing Mason to gently slip it out from under her small arms.
‘Thank you,’ he said, bent to kiss his daughter on both cheeks and whispered a long, heartfelt ‘I love you,’ against her smooth forehead. He drew back from her and willed himself to be strong. He’d engineered the slumber tube perfectly for every possible scenario—even if the ship crashed somewhere in space, she’d remain floating safely in the tube for at least seven days. Now, he had to trust that his daughter would be safe.
‘You have to close your eyes for this part Melody,’ he said. Melody nodded and closed her eyes. He touched the close button on the slumber tube and the door slid shut. As soon as the door sealed, fumes sprayed into the centre of the tube. Thankfully, the anaesthetic acted quickly, and Melody was asleep within seconds. When he was certain that she was asleep, he carried the slumber tube and placed it in the aluminium case he would use to smuggle it onto the ship. He locked the case and put it with the rest of the luggage before leaving his captain’s quarters.
––––––––
Mason walked to the bridge without looking back. He stopped every now and then to smile and acknowledge the people who recognised him and called his attention, but otherwise, he tried his best not to interact with people. He preferred that most of them remain strangers to him although he wasn’t necessarily a stranger to them. He was the second Avery to captain a ship to the moon colony; his grandfather had famously captained the second instalment. But here he was, trying to keep his head down and get to the bridge without drawing attention to himself.
He found the rest of the crew already strapped into their polyester-padded seats and hard at work in the bridge. The bridge, with its phenolic resin panelled walls, thermal glass viewing window, twenty-degree-inclined control panel, virtual displays, and alignment of emergency oxygen tanks, was big enough for the crew of five. He strapped into his seat in the bridge and got ready for take-off. His co-captain, Gary Balagadde, was stuffing a pack of dehydrated frankfurters into his mouth while he adjusted the settings of the passenger module on a virtual display near the entrance to the bridge. Gary had started with dehydrated salami and potato chips judging from the wrappers scattered all over the floor under Mason’s seat.
‘Keep your food in your room Gary. You know you aren’t supposed to eat in here,’ Mason said over his shoulder, more harshly than he had intended. His tone startled Gary and he fumbled with his pack of frankfurters for a few seconds before he managed to recompose himself.
‘Don’t you mean our room? Do you want some, Captain?’ Gary asked with a mischievous smile. Mason was half-relieved and half-irritated that his gruff tone hadn’t affected Gary’s jovial mood. Mason envied Gary’s ability to be happy and carefree all the time. He wished he could borrow some of that happiness right now. He needed something to replace the worry and nervousness.
Melody had been in the slumber tube for five hours now and she hadn’t been discovered. Not that he’d expected them to discover her; he’d gone to great lengths to make sure that didn’t happen. Yet, the one thing he knew would calm his nerves was if she remained hidden till they were safe in their new living quarters on the moon.
‘That stuff will constipate you,’ Mason replied.
‘You’re the one getting constipated, Grumpy.’
Mason shot Gary a deathly stare. The stare followed Gary as he walked over and took his seat beside Mason.
‘You can’t let this eat away at you like this,’ Gary whispered to him.
Mason looked away.
Gary paused and faced the display. Moments later, he shook his head and sucked air through his teeth. ‘Try to act normal,’ he said, ‘or else, we’ll get caught and who knows what will happen to Melody then.’
Mason jumped at the mention of Melody but collected himself and prayed that his weird behaviour had gone unnoticed to all but Gary.
‘What if it kills her?’ Mason breathed, his lower lip quivered, and he swallowed. ‘What if that thing I put her in kills her?’ The question that had been lingering in his mind since he’d sealed his daughter in struggled past the lump in his throat and formed into a strained whisper.
‘If it kills her, console yourself with this: if she’d boarded the ship without it, she’d die, and if you’d left her alone on Earth her life wouldn’t be worth living. You have to-’ Gary answered.
‘Why would you say that to me? What gives you the right?’ Mason said.
Gary’s mouth hung open as he gave Mason an incredulous look. ‘I’m sorry Mason. I didn’t mean to sound insensitive. I just need you to remember why we’re doing this, and I need you to stay focused on that.’
‘You know that I hate you, right?’ said Mason. He rubbed his neck and fought the anxiety that was morphing into anger at Gary. He knew it wasn’t fair, he acknowledged Gary probably had his own worries and insecurities about the situation since Melody was his goddaughter. Yet, despite his feelings, Gary had managed to appear calm and Mason could at least try to do the same. He glanced at his arm to check the time displayed in blinking bright blue characters on the control bracelet—worn over the sleeve of his triple-layered silver nylon, elastane and nomex, space suit. It was almost time for take-off. He told himself he didn’t have time to be fair to Gary anyway.
‘Are all the passengers asleep?’ Mason said.
Gary nodded, but pulled up the holographic display screen on his control bracelet to crosscheck. ‘They’re asleep.’
Mason pressed a button on his seat and linked his com pack—an ear piece and a microchip sized microphone on the suit’s collar—with the ship’s communication system.
‘Ship is ready for take-off,’ he told the people in the control room at the International Space Agency headquarters.
After receiving official clearance to launch, he instructed a plain, plump Chinese woman to initiate the launch sequence. Leaning back in his chair he whispered a short prayer.
We’re going to the moon, Princess, he thought, as a strong wish that he had the power of telepathy washed over him.
#
Time passed slowly and without incident on the voyage to the far side of the moon. Now, the ship hovered over the crystalline-cast, regolith dome around the crater where the colony was situated.
‘Vessel ISA909, you are cleared to land,’ a voice came through the ship’s com system from the moon station and the airlock opened in the dome below them. The ship began its descent and was soon inside the dome. Once there, the ISA moon station took control of the ship. As the ship approached the inner door of the airlock, Mason attempted to get out of his chair. He tugged hard on the safety belt and heard Gary sigh beside him. The sigh triggered his muddled memory: he had to stay put until the moon station unstrapped him. Nevertheless, he felt incapable of staying put when every bone in his body was telling him to take action.
‘Relax,’ Gary said.
Mason turned his head away from Gary, hand pulling on the safety belt despite Gary’s statement. He heard Gary start to say something more but before he could articulate, there came a loud thump, accompanied by short-lived tremors in the bridge as the ship docked. The rest of the crew recovered and relaxed in their seats as they waited, but Mason was getting more frantic by the second.
‘We’re almost there. The only way Melody gets off this ship safely is if you keep your head,’ Gary told Mason, his voice full of sincerity and concern. Mason knew his behaviour could sabotage his daughter’s safety, but he couldn’t rein in his emotions.
‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t help it.’
‘You must try harder... be a father,’ Gary said. Mason ignored Gary’s good intentions and let himself be irritated by Gary’s assumption of knowledge of what being a father meant in the situation he was facing; he drowned the voice in his head that claimed that Gary was right and instead convinced himself that Gary had not an inkling of what he was going through.
‘I am being a father!’ Mason said. The other three crew members’ heads snapped in his direction and Gary cocked his head sideways. Ashamed at his outburst, Mason thought he should at least try to explain his behaviour to them. It wouldn’t be with the absolute truth, but it would be something, he thought.
‘You don’t understand. I need...’ Mason was cut short by the bridge door sliding open. A tall man clad in a white nylon and kevlar space suit walked in and five titanium humanoid robots followed behind him. The robots lined up behind him, and for a moment the now cramped room was silent.
‘Welcome to the Far Side,’ the tall man announced. ‘My name is Dr Andrew Song and I’m the officer in charge of all the new settlers.’ Dr Song gestured towards the robots and they stepped forward. Dr Song drew up the holographic display from his control bracelet, pressed a button and the safety belts unlocked with concurrent clicks. Mason sprang out of his chair and his abdomen almost hit the control panel.
‘A moonbot will escort each of you to our waiting area where you will be examined by our doctor and await further instructions,’ Dr Song said, and rested his arms in front of him.
‘...Moonbot?’ Gary chuckled. Dr Song’s head turned slowly in his direction, but the comment everyone in the room held their breath to hear didn’t come.
Mason started towards the bridge entrance. Dr Song placed his hand firmly on his chest and stopped him in his tracks. Mason couldn’t tell if the doctor was reacting to the venom he could feel emanating from his pores or if the doctor just hated being interrupted.
‘I wasn’t finished,’ Dr Song said.
Mason mustered a respectful but authoritative tone, ‘My name is Mason Avery, this ship’s captain. I wish to go to my quarters and get my luggage in order before I leave this ship. That is regulation after all.’
‘I am honoured to meet you Captain Avery,’ Dr Song said, ‘and with all due respect, we have our own regulations here at the Far Side; your luggage stays with us for now.’ Mason refused to take a step back. ‘Your heart is pounding, Captain,’ he said, narrowing his eyes at Mason.
A beam of light scanned Mason and disappeared, catching him off-guard because he’d been holding Dr Song’s gaze too intently. The doctor’s control bracelet displayed Mason’s vitals: heart rate: 90 beats per minutes; temperature: 37.05°c; respiration rate: 19 breaths per minute; blood pressure: 130/89.
‘Your luggage must be very important to you,’ he noted, ‘I will personally see to your luggage,’ Dr Song added. However, his consolation didn’t persuade Mason in the least. On the contrary, it threw his mind into a panic. He didn’t want this man anywhere near his luggage. Although he was sure the doctor wouldn’t find anything of consequence, he didn’t want him sniffing around. Gary cleared his throat audibly to break the silence that ensued.
––––––––
Mason’s heart raced, sweat beaded and dried on his forehead. His head pounded along with his racing heart and he felt himself start to shiver. He fidgeted in his seat and looked through the clear glass of the pod as it sped along its plastic tube to his new house. The dome and the plastic tube distorted the colours of the sky so that the yellow, orange, and crimson of the lunar sky sprinted past his eyes in distressing blotches.
He’d expected to be arrested while in the waiting room, but all they’d done there was inject into their wrists microchips with numbers that matched the citizen numbers lasered onto their napes back at the ISA headquarters on Earth. Then came a brief physical exam. Afterwards, they’d guided the whole group of a hundred people through a simulation meant to equip them with the necessary tools to live comfortably within their new home.
Mason used some of the knowledge he’d acquired to gain access to his igloo-esque shelter. Once it was inside, the pod stopped, and the door dropped to the ground. Mason lay there in his pod, stared at the ceiling and sighed heavily.
Grey moon bricks formed the ceiling of his garage—as grey as his and Melody’s futures were at the moment. He was tired of worrying but he couldn’t stop. He’d lingered on the verge of a panic attack the whole pod ride and expended half of the will he had left pulling back from it. He was exhausted and nauseated, and his remaining will barred tears for his daughter’s plight from flowing. Though his heart still pounded hard in his chest, it no longer drummed in his ear. The drumming had been replaced by a sinister hum that fed the atmosphere of foreboding surrounding him.
He opened the pod, clambered out and used his control bracelet to open the door that led him out of the garage. Stairs ushered him into a bright room with a high, aluminium ceiling. The house was larger on the inside than it appeared on the outside. A single room partitioned into dining, living, bedroom, and bathroom areas. Emerging from the pod had worsened his nausea and his body felt like a crushed can. His first destination was the steel toilet where he retched and vomited the remnants in his gut.
He dragged his feet across the floor and wrenched open the fridge for water to neutralise the acid in his mouth and throat but just as he reached for the bottle, a robot voice stopped him cold.
‘I am 909A and I am here to serve,’ a moonbot said.
He jerked around and stood up straight. The moonbot he now faced was identical to the ones he’d seen on the ship, except for the bold characters ‘909A’ emblazoned on its chest. ‘Nice to meet you, 909A,’ Mason responded in a shaky voice, ‘I am-’
The moonbot interrupted, ‘Citizen 909A: Captain Mason Avery; captain of ship ISA909, grandson of the deceased Captain Jack Avery, captain of ship ISA908 and founder of the Small Senate of the Far Side; son of Paul and Meredith Avery, born-’
‘That’s enough,’ Mason said. ‘We were instructed not to carry clothes. Do you know where I can find something to change into? I want to get out of this suit.’
‘What would you like to wear?’
‘A pair of pants...a shirt...’
909A turned to go in the opposite direction—Mason assumed it was to get him a change of clothes—but then it stopped and started to vibrate. The vibrations were fleeting and soon, 909A recovered. However, it didn’t continue in the direction it had started. It turned around, strode towards Mason and placed its heavy hand on his right arm. ‘Mason Avery, you are under arrest. I am charged with escorting you to the commons,’ it proclaimed.
Mason pulled his arm free of the moonbot’s grip and ran before he could think. He vaulted up the stairs and fidgeted with his control bracelet to get the garage door open. Behind him he thought he heard the 909A call out to him not to resist, but he paid it no heed. He tried to open his pod but it jammed. He turned to see 909A standing close to him.
‘Mason Avery, you are under arrest.’
Melody would die if he was arrested and detained, and if that was his fate, he decided he would rather die with her. He found a concealed recess in the garage wall and there, as the simulation had indicated, he found the pickaxe reserved for emergencies. He swung the pickaxe at 909A, hoping he could buy time for the pod to open so he could lock himself inside. He missed the moonbot and struck the glass of the pod instead. He pulled the pickaxe back and attacked again.
‘Do not resist!’ The moonbot grabbed his forearm midair, twisted it behind his back and slammed him against the pod with concussive force. Darkness flooded into Mason’s blurred field of vision until it engulfed it completely.
#
Mason awoke with a start. His skin burned, and he felt something weighing him down. Feebly, his eyelids parted to allow him to investigate. His left eyelid remained low over his bionic eye and a sharp pain seared through his left temple. The images in his left field of vision were in infrared and inexplicably glitched. Though less confident about how well his sight would serve him, he looked down to detect the source of his discomfort. His arms were covered with a heavy, black rubbery material; his hazy sight prevented him from discerning how far up his arms the substance went. His legs seemed to be glued to the chair by the same black substance. He tried to lift his feet but couldn’t. He pushed his shins hard against the substance and it stretched. It stretched like old gum but snapped back with the speed of a rubber band just as Mason began to entertain hopes of escape. Defeated, he controlled his breathing and squinted as he searched the room. His gaze landed on someone sitting beside him. Tied down as he was, even with screwed-up vision, Mason recognised Gary.
‘Gary?’ his friend’s name laboured past his heavy tongue.
‘Are you with us, Captain Avery?’ a familiar voice came, startling Mason. Mason hadn’t noticed anyone else in the room.
‘My eye...’ Mason murmured when he saw split outlines of Dr Song and 909A standing across from him. His tangled vision stopped him from seeing the apologetic look on Dr Song’s face.
‘I am sorry about your eye, Captain Avery. Your moonbot was too rough with you and I’m afraid your eye might need some repairs,’ Dr Song said.
‘Why are we here? Why are you treating us like this?’ Gary said. Mason could tell from his tone that Gary wasn’t himself.
‘I have a few questions for you. You are free to leave once you give me satisfactory answers,’ said Dr Song.
‘Do you usually tie up people you just want to ask a few questions?’ said Mason.
Dr Song ignored his comment. ‘Show it to them,’ he said.
909A held up a thin glass tablet and brought it closer to the two men. On it was a live stream of the slumber tube enclosed in thick bulletproof glass. He was positive that they had no idea what it was, but he didn’t know how long he’d be able to keep it that way. Also, he needed to find a way to get Melody out of their custody soon.
Mason told himself not to panic. He strived to keep his expression straight and unreadable—Gary was already doing a great job of the same.
‘What’s that?’ he said, although he already knew the answer.
‘I was hoping one of you could tell me,’ Dr Song said. ‘This object was found inside a case in the captain’s quarters. We don’t know which one of you it belongs to because both the cases we found there lacked the proper ISA labels.’
‘It’s rude to go through peoples’ luggage,’ Gary said. It had been his idea to remove the labels once they got on the ship. Mason had thought it would raise suspicion; Gary had assured him that it would enable them to switch labels at the point of inspection. But then, Gary hadn’t counted on them being absent during inspection of the luggage—he hadn’t expected the locals to have their own rules.
‘Is it yours, Mr. Balagadde?’ Dr Song enquired. ‘Could you tell me what it is?’
‘I don’t know what it is. And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you because...’ Gary paused, leaned in the doctor’s direction and added, ‘I don’t like you.’
‘Do you share Captain Balagadde’s stance?’ Dr Song asked Mason.
‘I’m seeing it for the first time,’ Mason said. He kept his tone even and looked Dr Song straight in the eye—he imagined his damaged bionic eye was a horrific sight and he was relying on his gaze to unsettle the doctor.
Dr Song held his gaze for a moment, and then he turned to leave. He paused at the door, pivoted and said, ‘Do you know what the penalty is for breaking Far Side law?’
‘Breaking the law?’ Gary sneered. ‘No one has broken any laws except you... infringing on my human rights like this.’
‘Of course, you don’t know,’ Dr Song laughed, taking no note of Gary’s comment. ‘Let me give you the highlights: after I prove that one or both of you smuggled illegal materials to the Far Side, you’ll both have to face the Small Senate. Now those old guys are very tough on crime of any sort and you’ll most likely be expelled.’ He stopped and faced them, giving his words time to have effect.
The two restrained men gave him blank stares.
Dr Song shook his head, and then smacked his forehead. ‘Forgive me for not thinking: expulsion means nothing to you,’ he chided himself. He took the tablet from 909A and opened a menu. Something about the smug look on his face made Mason nervous. He remained tight-lipped nonetheless. The doctor’s thumb lingered over a button as he smiled at them. ‘I’ll give you a taste.’
The floor opened beneath Mason and he dropped into a snug, pitch black cylindrical cell. He was plunged into darkness once again when the floor closed above him.
Mason gasped. The air in his cylindrical prison became thinner and thinner and the artificial gravity had powered down little by little as time passed. He floated in the darkness, afraid that he was becoming delirious.
He lost track of time and had no idea how long Melody had been in the slumber tube, or how much longer she could survive in there. He imagined her gasping for air, trying to fill her burning lungs. In the beginning, he believed his empathy to be so strong that his body was manifesting her struggles. In time, he realised that the tube was running out of air and that his bulging eyeballs, dry throat, and spongy tongue, were not a figment of his imagination.
He clenched his cold fingers as he felt them go numb. Fortunately, he hadn’t had time to remove his suit and its automatic heating system kept hypothermia from setting in. Now however, the suit was losing its strength and he feared his time was running out. He knew if he died, his daughter would die soon after and he wasn’t about to let that happen.
He pushed against his restraints and winced at the pain in his stiff limbs. He tried to propel himself upwards towards the door but couldn’t move. The restraints had become hard and brittle in the atmosphere of the cell and immobilised him. He was going to have to talk to them and hope they had a way of listening in.
‘I confess!’ his voice sounded like a radio with a severe auto-tune malfunction. Quiet followed this attempt to contact his jailers.
‘Please,’ he said, tears crystallising on his eyelashes.
‘My daughter’s in that thing and I don’t know how much time she has left,’ he called. ‘Do what you must to me but...’ His voice caught in his throat. He swallowed and the flames in his throat spread down his gullet to his stomach. ‘Save my daughter.’
He sucked in a mouthful of air to pay the debt that had been created. Then, he waited. He waited for what seemed like an eternity and was about to give up when blinding light shone down into his cell. Metal hands gripped his shoulders and hauled him up the long column into the light.
––––––––
Four moonbots encircled him, watching him like hawks. They bathed and clothed him and placed a small eye patch over his left eye, pending surgical repair. They left his hands free, so he could swallow the fast-acting nutrient supplements one of them had put in his right palm.
His eyes had sunk into the purplish ditches around them and his skin was almost paper white. He hadn’t eaten for days and his body screamed for nourishment, but still, he played with the two red pills in his hand—it was the last and only form of rebellion he was allowed. When he couldn’t hold on anymore, he tossed the pills into his mouth. The pills dissolved on his tongue and swam forward, leaving pure bliss in their wake. The colour returned to Mason’s cheeks by the time Dr Song arrived. A small, mattress-like hovercraft, carrying the slumber tube enclosed in a bulletproof glass case, glided into the room after him.
He ordered the moonbots off and approached Mason.
‘I need to get my daughter out of that tube,’ Mason said.
Dr Song nodded and withdrew a blade from underneath his sleeve and twisted the hilt. This caused the blade to glow. He twisted the hilt again and the blade dimmed.
‘Use this to cut through the glass,’ he said. ‘Hold out your arms.’ Mason stretched his arms out in front of him and Dr Song cuffed him. He then rested the blade on top of the glass case and left.
‘Wait!’ Mason yelled with his hands raised as the door closed behind the doctor. As soon as the door closed, bulletproof glass shields descended over all the walls. The cuffs on his wrist clicked open and dropped to the floor.
Mason massaged his wrists, stepped closer to the case and knelt beside it. He cut along the corners of the glass case and the sides collapsed away from the slumber tube. He ran his fingers along the slumber tube and lifted a latch that had been expertly concealed on its side. The hard titanium casing slid off a clear plastic door. A keypad occupied the lower part of the door and Mason’s hand hesitated above it.
He didn’t want his daughter to wake up to this. He didn’t want her to see him, yet he didn’t know if he would live or die, and most of all, he didn’t want to have to see her die too.
Mason took a deep breath and punched in the pass code. A gas was released into the tube and hid Melody for a moment. With that dose of rousing gas, Melody would be awake in the next two minutes.
Once the gas was removed from the slumber tube, the door opened. Mason’s throat constricted, and his chest tightened when he saw his daughter’s face for the first time in almost six days.
Melody wriggled her nose in that way she did when she’d just woken up. Her hazel eyes were hidden behind half-opened lids. She smiled at him groggily.
‘Are we on the moon, Daddy?’ she asked. Her small, sleepy voice filled him with equal parts of joy and dread. What have I done? He lamented.
He pulled Melody into his arms and hugged her close. ‘We’re on the moon, Sweetheart.’
#
Mason watched Melody run around the playground in the children’s dormitory. It was a quaint place with moon grass, bioengineered blossoms, and an artificial rainbow reigned above it. She was playing with three other children and appeared to be having the time of her life. Her glee warmed his heart; her dream had come true, at least for the moment.
The nurse had told him she was thriving and that her asthma could be handled. She’d told him that most of the damage would have been done en route to the moon, but it had been mitigated by the tube. She’d approved of his ingenuity with a nod.
‘We don’t have much time,’ Dr Song reminded him. He had almost forgotten that the doctor was standing right next to him. He was grateful to him for letting him see his daughter before his hearing. He hadn’t expected him to say yes but it turned out the doctor wasn’t as heartless as he had imagined him to be.
Mason took a step towards his daughter, but his courage failed him. He didn’t want to say goodbye to his daughter, and he knew this could be the last time he saw her. He cowered and turned to leave but Dr Song blocked his path. He said nothing to him, but Mason got the message loud and clear: say goodbye to your daughter. Fate must have connived with Dr Song because Melody spotted Mason and shrieked with joy as she ran to him. He poised his arms to receive her and she fell into his embrace.
Holding Melody in his arms, close to his heart, made it all worth it. Seeing the glow in her hazel eyes shattered his fears and left him light and peaceful.
‘Where have you been, Daddy?’
‘I’ve been working, Princess,’ he said.
‘Has Uncle Gary been taking good care of you?’
He nudged his daughter out of the hug and grinned at her.
‘He’s come to see me every day. He draws with me,’ Melody answered. She swung her hips side to side as she twirled her left index finger in her curly hair. Mason pulled his daughter back into his arms. He wished he could thank Gary before he went in for his hearing, but he’d already asked too much of Dr Song. He consoled himself with thoughts of a reunion with Gary sometime in the future.
Dr Song cleared his throat. It was time.
‘I have to go back to work, Melody. You’ll be a good girl and listen to your Uncle Gary, won’t you?’ he said, a lump solidifying in his throat. He clenched his jaw and willed himself not to cry.
Melody nodded. ‘What happened to your eye, Daddy?’ she pointed at his eye patch.
‘My eye is tired sweetie. I have to let it rest for a bit.’
‘When are you coming back?’ Her innocent stare threatened to be his undoing.
He tilted his head at Dr Song and considered his answer for a short while. ‘I’ll be back very soon.’
He rose to his feet and nodded at Dr Song. Melody waved goodbye and ran back to play with her new friends. Mason wondered if she would have left so easily if she knew she might never see him again.
‘Do you think they’ll expel me?’ Mason asked the doctor.
‘I don’t know. There’s more to consider in your case: you’re an Avery and, I think, the little girl changes things,’ Dr Song opined. ‘Was it worth it?’
Mason assumed he was referring to his decision to bring his daughter to the Far Side. ‘I’d do it again.’ He held his arms out and the doctor cuffed him. The two men marched off to the Senate room where Mason would learn his fate.
––––––––
Gabriella Muwanga has always been fascinated by science and the fantastical. She loves to transport her readers to high-tech futures where passion and intelligence place galaxies within one’s reach, and all the way to magical realms where the sunlight never dims into dark and gravity is a suggestion. She is a Ugandan-American who lives and writes in Baltimore, Maryland.
