By Lexi Anders
“People annoy me. They can’t admit when they like something. Here I am, playing extraordinary music on my violin so they’re in awe- until the wardens come in. Then I’m chased from my make-shift stage, which is someone’s table, and gobs of precious fruits are hurled at me.”
“Well, what did you think would happen?” Micha scrubbed at the floor without looking up at Kyrsto.
“Eh,” Kyrsto leaned against his mop, “I just think it’s a bit hypocritical to call my work a waste of time and resources and then turn around and waste all that food. Imagine all the effort that went into growing those crops. It’s not easy to replicate out here!”
“There you go again, talking as if you’re one of the elders.” Micha shook her head and got up to stretch. “We have a process for everything, even wasted food can be recycled. Time is different.”
Kyrsto sighed, why did he expect his friend to understand? Rice-27 was the world she grew up in, it was normal to her. He looked out a port window where darkness spanned as far as the eye could see. If the lights inside the ship were turned off- which they rarely were- he would have been able to see the stars swirling by at light speed. He shivered imagining how you could be lost in that endless silence.
“Nevermind that. What are you doing here? How did the great Micha get in trouble?”
Micha blushed scarlet red. “It’s none of your business.”
“Don’t tell me you managed to spill another sack of flour?”
“It’s not my fault!” she protested. “I’m not that big, how do they expect me to carry those giant things and still see my feet!” she snatched the mop away from him and focused on her task again. “And they told me baking wasn’t rocket science.” she muttered.
He snorted and rested an arm against the wall. “Give it some time, you’ll get there. After all, the sky’s the limit.”
She glared at him.
“Aww, what’s the matter, Micha?”
“I’m not falling for it.”
“Ah, but don’t let the gravity of the situation bother you.”
She blinked at him deadpan. “Was that supposed to be funny?”
He started cracking up. “It was. It was hilarious.”
“Kyrsto.” he jumped and spun to see a warden glaring at him.
“What kind of lazy sort are you? First you sneak away from your assigned job- to play around no less- and now you won’t even pay your sentence? What are we going to do with you?” Warden Glen frowned seriously.
“I have an idea.” Micha offered humbly. “Since he’s clearly not cut out to be a nurse aid- perhaps a new assignment.”
“Yes,” Kyrsto agreed, “I would do better if I had a more interesting job- like perhaps I could do the announcements or something . . .” he could imagine writing up the scripts, and hearing the involuntary snickers of his peers as they tried to hide their glee over his ridiculous puns.
“Reward you??” Glen scoffed. “Certainly not. Perhaps if you had done your job properly and submitted a request form. The better job for you would be-“
Kyrsto sighed and picked up his shovel. Production production, that’s all they cared about. Where’s life in that?
He began humming to himself as he spread out the mulch.
“What song is that?” a little girl asked him. He jumped.
“Who are you? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in school?”
“My name is Susie. And I couldn’t focus on school.” she held out a hand. “I was going to visit Papi, but he wasn’t home. So here I am.”
“Hmm,” he shrugged it off. “Then I guess you want to help me, Susie?”
“Sure,” she picked up a shovel that was about a foot taller than her and awkwardly began pushing mulch around. Kyrsto smiled.
“You should probably get back to class, they’ll call me a bad influence if you get caught with me.”
“But won’t you tell me a story? I want to hear what it was like.”
Kyrsto froze. “What do you mean?”
“You’re the space man. I knew because you like music. And nobody here bothers with music anymore except the elders.”
“Space man? Is that what they’re calling me? Makes me sound like an alien.”
“But what were you doing out there all alone? What happened to your ship?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know, I was in cryostasis before I was taken in by Rice-27.”
“That’s so spooky . . .”
He glanced around. “You know, I could tell you a real spooky story.”
She grimaced. “I don’t like history lessons.”
“No, no, this is different. There once was a boy on earth, before the sun exploded. He used to look up at the red sun and wonder if he could reach it and heal it somehow so no one would have to hurt. His family never sent him to school so he had all the time to daydream about how to touch it.”
“But if he got so close he would be vaporized!” Susie protested.
“Well maybe he didn’t realize that. As I was saying, he tried several times to build his own rocketship, but in the end decided that without the right materials he wouldn’t succeed. So he grew up a little, but he still had a dream- that with a little research and experimentation they could revive the star.”
“How would he do that?”
“Well, if you can trace back why stars die, then maybe you can also trace how to stop it. Maybe give it energy before it becomes a black hole. No one else thought it was possible, they were only focused on making as many spaceships as possible before they had to evacuate from the radiation. There wasn’t much hope for them creating enough for the whole population, and then when they did they feared they would be stranded in space forever.”
“So what did he do?”
“He made a very foolish decision and stole a ship. No one expected the young man to manage something like that and before long he was out in space all by himself. As he approached a meteor seemed to appear out of nowhere and crashed into the sun and the explosion sent his ship flying deep into space beyond the Milky Way Galaxy. And so he was separated from everything he knew and unaware of the destruction that came upon them.”
She stared at him horrified. “That’s terrible!”
“I never said it was a happy story,” he shrugged.
“Were you the boy?” she asked with baited breath.
“What? No, I just made that story up.”
“You lied to me?”
“It’s not a lie, I never said it was real, I just invented it. Like machines are invented for production, stories can be invented for enjoyment.”
“Are you sure about that?” she asked doubtfully.
“Well, you liked it, didn’t you?”
“Hmm, it was interesting, but kinda sad. I think it will take a bit of convincing for other people.”
“You might be right.” he thought and then silent laughter shook his body as a ridiculous idea came to his mind.
“Attention, good citizens of Rice-27, as some of you may know today marks the great half a Millennium since Rice-27 set out from planet earth. In celebration please enjoy this rendition of happy birthday:”
“Haaapppy- happy birthday, Haaaappy- happy birthday. Maay it find you weeeell. And the suuuunn- shining in the sky-” he snorted, “for every daay- thatpassesby.”
“You may now applaud.”
Kyrsto stifled his giggles in the silence that followed. He quickly disconnected his mic and twisted the exposed wire back together to stuff into the wall.
He heard something down the hallway and ran. No doubt they had already tracked down where the interference came from. Though his body ached- no thanks to his manual labor- he pressed on and split into a crowd in line for dinner, where he was supposed to scan his ID.
He was so impatient to get through that he didn’t notice all the murmuring around him. Something about happy birthdays.
“Kyrsto,” a short dark figure elbowed through. “Tell me that wasn’t you.” Micha begged.
“Huh?” he grabbed his plate of food, glancing at his watch.
“The announcement, that was you, wasn’t it? No one else would do such a thing.”
“I’m sorry, Micha, I’m running late, I’ve got to eat this real fast to get back to work.”
“I don’t think you can just go back.” Warden Glen appeared at his shoulder. He took out his cuffs. “You’ve really done it this time.”
“What- Gleen!” he glanced at Micha for help. “You can’t be serious! Tell him. I wouldn’t do that, I just got off probation.”
“Come on, we’ve got surveillance everywhere, and our tech can match voices. You seem to forget what century you’re living in.”
“Glen, please, it’s not like I hurt anybody. Look, they’re all smiling!” he gestured to a table over that was watching the exchange.
“Only because they’re happy to see justice.” Glen scowled. “Your time-wasting has gone too far, it’s time to speak to the president.”
Kyrsto inwardly smirked, but did his best to put on a meak expression and broke down. “Oh, please, I won’t do it again, Glen.” he sobbed. “Take pity on me, I’m just an old fool.”
“Uhuh. Likely story, you’re acting won’t get you anywhere.”
He looked up at Glen through his tears and said seriously, “You don’t know what it’s like, do you?”
Glen froze. “Come off it.” He lifted him up by the arm.
“Glen,” Micha reached out. She was convinced by his act. “He’s just a big dummy. Let it go, won’t you? He only wants to make people happy . . .”
“I can’t do that, Micha.” Glen sighed and looked back at Kyrsto who was nervously fiddling with his hands and wiping his eyes, “Everyone heard you, the president requested to speak with you.”
Kyrsto nodded understanding, but still looked worried.
“Mr. President.” Glen walked in. “I’ve brought him.”
Kyrsto was led into a spacious office that, unlike most of the monochrome halls, had nice red highlights.
The President himself sat behind a desk, wearing a dark blue suit and hiding his bushy mustache with laced hands.
“Please, have a seat, Kyrsto.” the man’s rough voice commanded.
The other people filed out of the room and the door was shut with an ominous boom.
The man cleared his throat and put on a nasally salesman voice, “So, you wanna be famous, kid?”
“Sir?”
“I like your spunk. So let’s make a deal, if you can become a sensational star in one week I’ll let you do anything you want. But, if you can’t win everyone over to your side, I expect you to become our chief engineer.”
“Really?” Kyrsto raised an eyebrow doubtfully. “Why would you give me the time of day? Doesn’t that betray your whole philosophy?”
The president cocked his head and returned to his voice. “You answer so seriously for a funny man. Truth is I like a little humor, but I know what people are like- they value safety and security over games. My system has ensured that for years, because even when they are imperfect in other ways by putting in the time they are free. Our stability depends on such costs as the pleasures you pursue.”
“But wouldn’t they work harder if there were other incentives to work towards and enjoy?”
“I didn’t ask you here to debate,” the president held up his hands. “Only, I want you to take my offer.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then I suppose we’ll have to find some other punishment for you.” he responded with a level stare.
“Then I suppose it’s a deal.” Kyrsto didn’t try haggling with him. His plan had worked much more easily than he had anticipated. In all truthfulness, he figured his little ode to the ship’s history would appeal to the president, but this was still surprising.
The president twisted his mustard mustache thoughtfully and cackled a bit. “Excellent.”
Kyrsto couldn’t help laughing at that. What an odd man.
Micha assaulted him when he returned to the dorm sector that evening.
“Kyrsto! You have all of your limbs! What happened? Did the president give you a pardon?”
“Micha, you won’t believe it, I’ve been given permission to do it! It’s time to start the operation of winning over the ship.”
“That . . . doesn’t make sense.”
“Well, the President doesn’t think I’ll succeed, and so he took the bet.”
“You don’t really know the president do you? He’s not going to let anyone change the order of things around here.”
“Are you sure? Honestly, he seemed like one of the most interesting people I’ve met.”
She lowered her voice. “That’s where he’ll trick you. Like he tricked my parents.”
He frowned, but didn’t argue with her. “Then I’ll have to beat him at his own game.”
Two days later.
Kyrsto was performing a beautiful serenade in the dining hall again. He was met by silent stares everywhere.
“Thank you, thank you very much.” he bowed several times and held his hands together shaking them by his head in victory.
“Kyrsto, you ought to be doing something better with your time.” a random person scolded.
“Ah, but this is the best I can do.”
“Don’t kid us. We all know you’re some kind of genius. You should be using your talent for something more productive.”
“Excuse me? My music is productive. Doesn’t your heart race at the sound? And the hairs along your arms prickle? What I do makes you feel more alive than eating even does!”
“So you admit that you’re not only wasting your energy, but ours as well?” another snapped.
“It’s not a waste! It’s . . . ” he floundered for some terms to convince them- what did they care for beauty? For art? For joy?
“Don’t you want your children to be happy?” he asked.
“I want my children to be alive.”
“And you are. We all are! We’re living perfectly fine- but is that enough. Is that all you want out of life? Weren’t you taught about the old days where people spent their free time pursuing personal interests? Don’t you have anything that matters to you outside of work?”
They again didn’t respond.
“What am I supposed to do?” Kyrsto was hunched over in a seat, with his hands fiddling with his shoes.
“Boy, you sure are flexible.”
He looked up and saw Susie.
“Thanks, I can do a cartwheel as well.”
“A cart wheel?”
“Here, let me show you.” he twirled down the hallway.
“Wow, that’s really cool. I wonder if Papi can do that too. Can you teach me?”
He agreed. “Now, when you show your friends, tell them the space man showed you.”
“Oh, they’ll be so excited! I told them how you stole a ship on earth and ended up in space and they thought it was hyper cool. But, don’t worry, we’re keeping it a secret because no grown ups like you.”
“Uhhh, okay, but didn’t I tell you that I made that story up? It wasn’t real.”
“Sure, whatever you say.” she winked.
He shook his head. “Well, don’t say I didn’t tell you . . . but did you say that all the kids like me?”
“Yep! You should come visit our class sometime.”
“I just might.”
“Here’s the new plan:” He whipped out his pointer towards a board. “Indoctrinate the children.”
Micha’s eyebrows twitched. “That sounds so wrong.”
“Well, come on, it won’t be the first time, I’m merely breaking the cycle.”
“But, after you lose this bet it will all go back to how it was.”
“You underestimate the influence of children. If we can get all of them interested in one thing, then they’re parents will move mountains for them.”
“You’re going about this all wrong. You should be using psychology. Everyone wants to be doing what the rest of the crowd does. So you need to make them believe that it’s become popular and acceptable before it can become popular and acceptable.”
“I mean . . . that’s also a good idea. How about both? You can do your idea and I’ll do mine.”
“What? You do it! You’re the one obsessed with this!”
“But . . . I need your help. Okay? Are you happy? I need your help.”
“The great Kyrsto? No way. Where’s your independence and individualism now?”
“What can I say-” he smiled. “I sold it?”
She blinked slowly, entirely unamused.
“So, we have a deal.”
“Sure, if my method beats yours then you have to do what I say.” she put her hands together, as though plotting some malicious thing- worse than indoctrinating children.
“And what would Micha want me to do?” he asked curiously.
“That’s for me to decide when I show you up.”
“So you don’t know?”
“I definitely know!!!! And it’s going to make your life miserable. So you better work hard.”
“Now children repeat after me: when I grow up I want to be an artist.”
“But Kyrsto-” his star pupil, Susie protested. “I don’t want to be an artist!”
“Stop having original ideas and just do as you’re told!” He scolded ironically.
“But what you’re saying is silly- we can’t all be artists! That would be boring.” Another agreed.
“You catch on quickly.” He praised. “That is exactly the point- why do we all have to do the same jobs- wouldn’t it be more fun to branch out? And wouldn’t we be much more innovative and creative problem solvers for it?”
“Mr. Kyrsto,” a blond boy raised his hand, “Are you proposing the destruction of civilization as we know it?”
“I am indeed.”
Their mouths gaped open in shock.
“So we can pave the way for new civilization! But, back to school. First on the docket today: reading. Today we will be reading the story of David and Goliath. I need some volunteers.”
“I’ll read!” Hands shot up.
“Ah, but I don’t need volunteers to read. I need volunteers to act.”
The hands fell hesitantly .
“Nani?”
“Here, let me give you an example. I am going to pretend to be someone else and you tell me what it resembles.”
He let his posture relax into a slouch and began to walk around with exaggerated large steps. “Fee Fi Fo Fum, I smell Israelite fear. Face me if you dare.”
Meanwhile . . .
Micha finished the recording and cracked her knuckles. She could be in a bit of trouble for doing this- but since Kyrsto was claiming credit it would be fine.
A knock came on her door. “Micha, it’s Glen.”
She closed the computer and let the warden in.
“How can I help you, Glen?”
He let the door close. “I want in.”
“What?”
“I know you’re helping Kyrsto. I want in on it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She held up her hands innocently.
“I’m serious. I know what that man is like. Even if he loses this bet he’s not going to give up and submit to the president. And if he annoys the president enough then he might be subject to capital punishment-“
“What??? You don’t mean-“
“The president might put him in cryostasis.”
“But that’s not fair! Kyrsto is too crazy- that’s a hard burden to push onto someone else in the future.”
“Exactly . . . so what’s your plan?”
Three days later.
The children marched down the hallway holding original colored signs.
“Do you hear the children sing . . .” they awkwardly rambled together.
“Wonderful job, children. Now, one more lap and then PE will be over.” Kyrsto nodded in satisfaction.
“Can you believe he’s entrusted with our children?” a man whispered, hurrying past.
“I am surprised . . . I guess it’s not as bad as we thought?”
“Or their education has fallen . . . I’m thinking of pulling Wendy out . . .”
Kyrsto grimaced. Eh, it was kind of working.
“So . . . this is what you’re doing now?” Micha appeared at his shoulder.
“Well, it’s working isn’t it? All the parents have heard about the fun things we do in class and now this demonstration should help ensure that they can see we still get our work done at the same time.”
“UHuh,” she laughed. “Well, rather than making them doubt the education program I have been trying to make people interested in the arts. Yesterday, someone asked me how to become your friend. Definitely not because there’s a strong rumor that the President is an avid art supporter.”
“That . . . may be part of it. How did you do it?”
“Let’s just say I had an excellent actor and good recording skills.”
“And I heard the President say he was a huge fan. Warden Glen was surprised of course and taken aback since he didn’t even listen to opera.” a worker passed by and glanced at Kyrsto a bit in awe.
“Wait- you got the President AND Warden GLEN in on this???” Kyrsto grabbed Micha’s shoulders.
“Why is that the part you’re surprised about?” she lowered her voice, “But, actually the President ‘helped’ because of you. Why do you think I asked you to design that audio system for me?”
“I dunno, because you’ve finally fallen for the charms of music too.”
“No, not yet. I was just helping you. For someone so smart you can be pretty dumb.”
“Whatever, the point is I think we’ve just about won.”
“Now’s time for the pièce de résistance.” Glen threw his arms around them
“Aaah!” Kyrsto jumped back as though touched by a ghost.
“What’s the plan?” Glen asked.
“I can’t believe he’s really helping . . .” Kyrsto muttered in disbelief. “A party of course, but you don’t get to help.”
“What a shame.” Glen shrugged. “Just make sure you win, alright?”
“In case this doesn’t work out . . .” Kyrsto began.
“It will, don’t worry.” Micha reassured him.
“You say that . . . but you were worried enough to consult my greatest enemy. No, tell me, what were you going to wish for from me??”
“So you admit that my method worked better than yours?”
“There’s no telling who’s really created such a big impact.” he dodged the question.
“Ah, I just wanted you to paint me a picture of Earth.”
“Oh . . .” he grew quiet.
She smiled gently. “But I won’t force you to.”
“No, it’s fine, I’ll keep my word.”
The personal invitations from the President himself made everyone immediately jump to accept the offer of a party.
Luckily enough the President himself was there, as though validating the faked claims.
“Kyrsto,” he frowned. “I never said that I would stand back and let you fool the masses by using my name. Give me that mic.”
Kyrsto yanked it away, “Ah, but I just forgot that uh-” he smashed it on the ground. “It’s broken.”
The President glared. “Someone get me a mic.”
Micha approached Kyrsto. “How are you going to give your performance now?”
“Uh, hack the intercom?” he suggested, and then was immediately running to his previous vantage point before pausing to deliberate this new plan.
He grabbed a hallway screen and in a matter of seconds had it torn off and hooked up his own contraption to show him the party room.
“Thank you, Rice-27, for such a wonderful attendance at this Presidential Party. Please, make sure to give your vote on whether we should incorporate the arts as a professional field. And now give a great round of applause for-“
He noticed Susie standing on the stage, holding an old man’s hand.
“Our finest prodigé, Miss Susie and her Papi.”
The people turned and Papi began singing softly and Susie joined in. It was a sweet mesh between her young sharp voice and his old rusty one.
He felt a pain in his chest. It reminded him of things of old. He looked at the window, which only reflected the harsh glare of light back at him. It had been a good adventure but . . . maybe after that painting he would find something new. Steal a ship perhaps . . .
Octopencil 