There’s about a week until camp starts. I’m straining to write this because one of the lights in my room burnt out and my eyes are aching from all the outside time I’ve unfortunately done today and I’m only running on about three or four hours of sleep. Hiding in bed from the early evening sun with a notebook and a pen is about the only thing I have the cognitive abilities to do right now without inviting pinging pain behind my eyes. My swaps- that’s what everyone at camp calls those doodads with the safety pins in them that you’re supposed to “swap” with other people- are almost completely done. Plastic fuse beads in the shape of rainbows and triangles and little round fairies ready to be disseminated. I probably don’t have enough for everybody. That’s alright. I rarely get around to everyone anyways, and I’m always left with leftovers which end up going through several cover-ups of the written year to match the current one and then eventually rest forgotten in the bottom of my crafting supplies I save just for holding swap materials.
I wish I could sleep right now, but my dad would probably chastise me and force me to get up and “do something productive”. That’s why I was outside earlier: weeding Mom’s garden because, according to him, I’d had enough time to “mope around and act all girlish”. Never mind that, in the space of a few weeks, I’d unwittingly had a round-trip visit to the planet he’s so fond of pretending doesn’t exist and reunited with the girl that stole my affection on a pet simulator forum in middle school and escaped from people who’d have my head on a pike twice. I think I’ve earned the right to feel mopey for a few days while I try to reclaim my place in the world.
Today was Sully’s first day at Limberstein, and from the stories she told me over the phone (because there was no way I was letting someone in my room while I had a migraine), everything is a mess on Miralay. Amelia’s gone completely off the deep end, Sully said. Camera footage they managed to snag from the rat they have implanted in the rebellion crew shows Amelia pacing back and forth in her quarters, ranting incoherently to Mirt. Sometimes, she points her head to one of the corners of her confines and starts screaming obscenities at it- at a few points, it even turns into a rational conversation about something or someone that wants to take over her head. But Amelia doesn’t have a brain-machine interface, and even if she did, Amelia’s at the top of Miralay now that… well, you know. Other camera footage shows several riots in public gathering places, sometimes escalating into violence against anyone with any kind of mark resembling a Providence dot. Desperate parents have held rebels that switched with their children hostage, hoping that maybe they’ll get their children back, and eventually killing them when nothing comes to fruition.
And then, just a few hours ago, Amelia disappeared. Went into smoke. Poof.
Miralay is falling apart. Miralay is disintegrating, and the outside world’s first reaction is apparently for a few rich people to start stressing about how Miralayans won’t be rare and exotic if refugees flock en masse to Earth and for all the average laymen to finally start turning their eyes to that one particular point in the sky at night and wondering if maybe they should consider getting involved in extraterrestrial affairs.
Just my speculation, at least about the rich people. I can’t read the minds of every single person on Earth.
Sully overheard a lot of this while pushing around boxes for the first space mission, where the crew (that unfortunately doesn’t include Sully) is going to establish Limberstein’s yet-unnamed colony. There are already plans in the works for the first rudimentary underground spaces, which will probably only be inhabited by people in pressure suits for short amounts of time before retreating to their spacecrafts. Sully wasn’t quite sure. But they’ve got a corporate sponsorship in the works, which will give them the money they need to really get digging into the ground and set up a proper colony like Mordern’s Miralay.
One more thing- Sully says it’s the least important thing to her, but I know she’s lying. Everyone lies about this. She’s getting paid to do this, to shove around boxes and fulfill petty jobs while she waits for the inevitable Miralay bailout mission Mordern will pay Limberstein to do.
…You know, now I’ve got a sudden hankering to start taking some online courses. I’m gonna need some mad skills if I’m going to be working from Heavestone as an adult with no records, no contact information, no verifiable mailing address. I mean, I could run away somewhere, take up a completely new identity and start from scratch… But I want to stay in Heavestone. I want to stay close to my parents and all the people I grew up with. I like the romance of being invisible, of being a ghost that the world at large doesn’t know exists.
Although sometimes I do wish I were a human. I guess my being Miralayan would be the first giveaway if someone were looking for me. To be just another human, lost in a confusing world of advertisements and nameless, faceless apartment buildings and copy-paste lives…
Yeesh. I guess I really do need a nap, father’s chastisement be damned.