the future
Emily and Anya debate about what the future may hold while lying under the stars. (human au)
- This is a political debate / character study? When I was writing it, I was reading a lot about space colonization and various forms of Marxism, as you might be able to guess...
- It was a lot of fun to write, actually! The whole time, I was imagining Emily imagining herself as Captain Kirk (which I was also watching for the first time as I was writing this).
Stars twinkled as a cold autumn breeze tossed leaves through the air above them. Emily took this opportunity to snuggle up closer, resting her head on her girlfriend’s chest. “Where do you see us in five years?” she asked, her voice unusually soft.
“In five years?” Anya repeated. “Well… We both will have graduated by then, yes? I suppose, realistically, whether we go on to our separate careers or even if we both decide to go on to graduate school, we really won’t see much of each other—“
“No no no, not like that. I meant more like, uh,” she trailed off, pointing upward, hand dimly lit by the camping lantern set beside them. “I just feel like things have totally stagnated since the sixties. Like, it started off -- bang bang bang! -- first man made satellite, first animal in orbit, first man on the moon! And all in a span of about ten years!” She sighed. “But now, it’s like, every couple of years, we maybe see a blurry picture of a black hole or hear about some dead potatoes or traumatized jellyfish. I was hoping that we’d actually have made some progress by now, like a half century later, y’know?”
“Hm? But a lot has changed for the better since the sixties.”
“Yeah, but…! Well, certainly you imagine something when you stare up into the vast abyss, right? What do you see in your mind’s eye when you think of the distant space year of 2025?”
The distant chirping of birds and bristling of leaves settled over them while Anya took a second to think. “Maybe not by then,” she finally said, “but I think space is humanity’s only real chance to start over, to learn from our mistakes, and work together to create a new, perfect society.”
Emily sat up, a grimace painting her face. “So… space communism is what you’re saying, basically."
“Basically. Though, I’d call it more like space anarchism. Let me finish: no presidents, no kings, no bosses… simply people working together, as equals, friends, to achieve a common goal. It will be a difficult journey, but it will not only bring us together like no other but benefit us all. Sounds great, yes?”
“I wouldn’t exactly say that, no,” Emily said, taking a drink of her Coke. “And I don’t really know what the hell you’re talking about, on top of all this commie shit. ‘Common goal?’ ‘Difficult journey?’ I thought we were just going to the moon? Like, Apollo 11 got to the moon in a little over two days, didn’t it? I’ve gone on road trips longer than that – I don’t think it’d be that bad?”
“The journey of terraforming the moon… Oh!” Anya leaned forwards and took a small container out of her bag. “Gingerbread?” she said, opening it and setting it between them.
Emily grabbed one and took a bite. “Aw, these are so good, dude,” she said, mouth full. “Wouldda been better if you made ‘em into fun little shapes or something, though.”
“Mm, no, I don’t think so,” Anya said. “Anyway, until we figure out a way to create a proper, Earth-like atmosphere, we’ll have to stay almost exclusively in climate-controlled tents. Nothing like extended periods of total darkness, extreme cold, and uncertain external communication to bring a group of even the most different people together, yes?”
Emily was quiet for a few seconds. “Oh, yeah, I’d completely forgotten that nights on the moon lasted two weeks… Hm, no sun for two weeks – would it actually be worth it, after all?”
“You’re giving up already, Emilya? As I said, it will be a tough road, but it’s for the good of all humanity!” She paused to eat a cookie. “And, once we achieve full automation, it will be so much better! People will be free to truly live their lives, follow their passions. What an explosion of art and culture there will be!”
“…Is that all you have to say?”
“For now, yes.”
“Okay.” Another swig of Coke. “For starters, that'd never work; one way or another, a hierarchy will form, destroying your perfect equality. Whether it’s due to cultural baggage and prejudice or good old-fashioned human greed, someone’ll always end up on top. And when they least expect it… BAM! Bashed in the head with a rock! And then the next guy’ll come along and do the same, and the next guy, and the next guy, and so on. It’s an endless cycle.”
“I disagree entirely, but continue.”
Emily paused to think. “Oh! Also, when people are freaked out, they’ll seek guidance from someone they consider to be more experienced and that’ll also fuck up your nice little grassroots colony.”
“It’s fine to ask someone who knows what they’re doing for help. I see no problems with that.”
“Hm. Well, fine, then. Anyway, end game, let’s say that this little ‘moon commune’ of yours does work how you say. Which it won’t. But, if it did, let’s consider just what life in this ‘perfect’ society entails.
“‘Art and culture,’ you say. Locked in their moon bunkers for weeks at a time, with nothing to do but ‘create art’ – just what would these poor people create art of? The barren walls of their tents? Their comrades who they’ve been in such close contact for so long that their features have been burnt permanently into their retinas? I submit to you that certainly anyone in this ‘veritable paradise’ would shoot their brains out in no time!”
“Why do you think all art has to be representational? Music to dance to, comedic plays, paintings of fantastic worlds – it’s all valuable.”
“Aha!” Emily sprung up, pointing her index finger down in Anya’s face. “But, why would you merely imagine other worlds when you could explore them in the flesh?! Tell me that, hm?”
Anya grabbed her arm and used it to yank herself up. “Well, you may not get this, but some people like to settle down in one place. Truly get to know the people around them. Let them get to know you. Feel like you belong.” She continued, without breaking intense eye contact: “What point would there be in exploring the cosmos, anyways? Yes, the sights would be breathtaking, but you’d be completely alone.”
“Not completely alone,” Emily said, looking away. “What about my crewmates?”
“Crewmates?” Anya asked, incredulously. “If you think anyone would immediately get sick of their fellow community members, wouldn’t it be considerably worse with your crewmates? A spaceship would be much more claustrophobic than a whole planet, no?”
“Ah, but I’d also have the whole universe to keep me company! Aliens, Annie – aren’t you forgetting about the aliens?!”
“Don’t call me that,” Anya said, flatly. “Besides, even if aliens existed – which they likely don’t – you’d obviously always be the odd man out. Worse than that, just as you begin to understand their language and customs, you’d just jump ship, off to the next galaxy. Forever a tourist. And everyone hates tourists.”
“Yeah, well, uh, uh, uh!” Emily closed her eyes to think, then shortly brought her heated gaze back to Anya. “Ah! You could come down with, like, some kind of weird fucking ‘moon disease’ or some shit and you’d be totally fucked until I go to Mars and find the cure and save you!”
“And what if you get lost or kidnapped or stranded in space and there’s no one to save you, little miss heroine?”
The two stared each other down, only barely able to make each other’s faces out through the dim light of the lantern. Then, unconsciously, both started leaning forwards, until their lips were mere millimeters apart…
Finally pulling away, Emily mumbled: “I guess not everything has to be a competition, though, does it?”
“Sometimes it’s nice enough to just enjoy the present,” Anya said, settling back down on the blanket.
“Yeah.” Emily laid down next to her.
Their hands reached out for the other’s as they stared up, once again, to the stars.
“Maybe I’ll come keep you company on one of your two-week long nights,” Emily whispered.
“And maybe I’ll go explore the lonely universe with you.”