Back to the present.
Trixie Jen woke with a start to the sound of their computerized alarm stating that the night had ended. She moved her hand to pull off her sheets, but stopped from the new pain on her arms, back and face. Her blue skin was inflamed with purple sunburns. Since arrival, they had been directly impacted by the bright star in the sky which Planet Gliese orbited. In their excitement, they had forgotten to apply sunscreen or any skin protection during arrival.
Her walls were white with blue lace. The tan rug was dustless and pristine. The small kitchen floor was an endless mirror and the counter tops glistened. In the bathroom, the mirror was so clear that she wondered if she could have put one hand through the sheer glass and manipulated it.
Paka had left earlier for his position in building regulations, and since Crip started later he slept in until noon. Trixie pulled over a gray and blue jersey. Filmy nylons were stretched over her legs. She fitted each foot with pull on shoes, then tugged light khaki shorts over her legs. She pulled her hair into a ponytail. They had not given her a uniform or clothing outside of the casual options she was used to, so she was not sure what to expect.
Trixie hopped down the steps into the tidy living room, which the computerized system itself rearranged and organized the same way their wounds had been automated out of them. If something became a mess or things were out of place, the computer system was able to fix that almost as fast as Priestess Zoy had during their escape. Since this technology could sort, interact with and manipulate so many materials, this caused the Jens to feel very curious about what they could actually contribute through their occupations.
The wall slipped open for her, and Trixie walked over to her car. It was red, and shaped like an egg with an extra bump where the windshield curved like a bubble, much like the windows of their home.The motor roared to life as she plugged in the correct requirements, and she could visibly feel the slow lift off the ground. The doors manually locked, followed by the straps that fell over her. The vehicle drifted up from the concrete and glided toward the hauling pipe. She had assumed Governor Demosh had been driving their limo before, but it was quite the opposite. The destination was entered, and the vehicle then acted like a monorail would- no driver, only preprogrammed destination. She assumed this would include enough programming to outmaneuver any collision risks as well. They had said collision risks were higher before the hauling pipes.
The red car dove down the hole with the mind of its own. She had selected the slow speed. “I don’t even have to drive this thing!!!” Trixie shouted with excitement to herself. Another vehicle blew past her, upside down and across from her, which appeared to be the ceiling. Before she could get a better look, her car spun around and elegantly spiraled from the pipe, shifting off and descending to a swift stop in between two cars in the parking lot. “Whew! I think I am excited to do that again. Just got to avoid medium and fast and should be good,” she said to herself.
Trixie paced across the lot to the large building before her, which for such an advanced planet was extremely plain and almost recognizable. A block of doors flew open and shut all over the bottom floor. Windows were placed in every other room. The building was labeled “Susei Resource Department.” Two rows of flowers bordered the building where on the right side a blue gate stood that led to a patio with outdoor tables. She cupped her eyes from the sun, reading the board that labeled each floor.
That’s when she saw the people. She had never seen what was literally a rainbow of skin tones across all of them. Some were close to hers, and others were any given color from red to yellow to green. Ironically they did all have similar features to her own, much like Miss Mayor had. The only distinct difference in the species of Gliese was the shades of color that spread far more diversely than any planet she had even visited. Trying to calculate how this had even happened made her head spin. Light blue to dark blue, that was what demons and angels alike were- of three planets. The many planets they had seen, though the species were shaped far differently than them, they also seemed to stick to one or two hues- their skin going from light to dark and dark to light in shades.
Everyone here on Gliese was something she could only describe as a rainbow. Perhaps even colors that went far outside of a rainbow’s perimeters. Not only were the questions that had to stay on hold building up, but the ethics for what questions she was allowed to ask became an issue too. If they spoke like her, there had to be an automatic computer translation happening. The computers here could clean and heal wounds, so they certainly could match dialect as well.
Asking about how their genetics went this far and wide seemed like the least appropriate question. Every one of them was immortal, and she was not. She should focus on that. They were all in excellent form and shape as well, and she was also not..yet.
Making her way through the double-door entrance and into the faculty office, she skimmed her surroundings, working hard to keep her thoughts to herself. Staff workers hurried and sorted through logs. Office assistants rushed passed her and waved with greeting smiles.
“Good Morning Miss Jen, I’m Mr. Moten.” Trixie was startled. It was her language. The computers in the buildings did automatically translate. What couldn’t the tech here do?
He took her hand and guided her into the office, offering her a seat with a broad smile. “Miss. Jen, I expect that you will bring brilliance to the minds here at Susei, in fact I believe you are the youngest employee here..” he laughed, seemingly to himself.
Trixie smiled. Was she supposed to smile? It was almost easier when the aliens had faces that looked nothing like hers. When they looked like her she felt lost regarding the social reactions expected and when they were or were not required. Keeping up a social dressing for no end sounded overwhelming, but maybe it was never in her own genetics to do that. Maybe it was in theirs. She had no idea.
Mr. Moten could tell Trixie was trying to imitate the expressions, and she had scanned everything picking up on far more than he spent his day trying to pick up on. Her aura had flashed like a lightning bolt, her energy like a star which felt unsettling compared to the few extraterrestrial refugees they had taken in before. He had not expected so much calculating analysis from her. “You are likely aware that Public Resources are provided by the local government, covering a range of services- from public investment, finances, safety and security, natural resources and infrastructure, utilities, the list goes on. The training for each department is specialized and adjusts with the information available to us, but for the best use of the materials that have been provided specifically to you, and the interests Miss Mayor observed you being most keen on.. We’d like you to work as an intern of sorts in rotation, until you find the department you line up most strongly with. Starting with Nutritional Research Outcomes.”
Trixie’s jaw dropped at the level of trust being offered to her. They would just let her pick? She wondered what the safety and security department even entailed, or if it was even needed in a civilization like this. “Ok, I will do that” Trixie finally breathed.
Mr. Moten smiled. “Then let's get started!” He strode down the hallway and Trixie followed. The room she was brought into had soft fluorescents. The rugged floor was as colorful as the wallpaper. Sunlight burned through the open blinds, thick dark oak wood framing the doors. Trixie quickly assessed reactions to her presence throughout her travel. Weird, bizarre, stubborn, provoking. That’s how she had been received in her own life and across species, except the kindness from Miss Mayor. She would have to work on acting like the others more.
“This is the section we will have you start at,” Mr. Moten said. “Oximon here will be under your stewardship.”
A child, she realized. He had a bowel cut, orange hair, and freckles all over his face. He stepped over to her. His skin was green. She had hated people that looked just like her on a neighboring planet, being raised on how ‘evil’ demons were. Trixie had only recently processed how far behind her upbringing was. Only so many thoughts could be sanely filtered at this point. “You look like an upside down carrot,” she blurted.
Oximon narrowed his eyes,“Aren’t you a little too young to be a manager? Not that you have that much longer to live anyway,” he retorted. Oh good, he was immature enough to brush it off. She felt a bit of relief at that.
“Trixie here will be in management of this sector until she decides to rotate. Trixie, this is the division of Nutritional Research Outcomes within our Public Resources Department. We are evaluating how different diets affect the moods of our species and continuously improving our ingredients. As death is not a risk here, these experiments are based on emotional stabilization and energy output for our citizens. Like any society, we do have some dysfunction that leaves outliers from the natural success they should have. Those are they who end up in our research studies, paid and subsidized for their data contributions for the betterment of us all. Oximon here is one of those outliers, and he has been with us for four years.”
Trixie glanced over at the boy and then back to Mr. Moten. He seemed like a regular kid. ‘Dysfunction’ had a very different meaning from where she was from. Then again, this was an advanced civilization. “As you may have noticed, part of our unique evolution includes supplements and food substances here have completely merged. Any herb, vitamin, or mineral you could think of is now known to be part of different food ingredients. So one grade of food might have no added extracts, yet another will. The management position here will include the oversight of contracted participants throughout their day, as they perform their daily tasks and assigned studies. Their performances will be tested and measured by our medical and education team. As I mentioned before, many of these research subjects do come from the outcast areas of our society- or lacking a proper upbringing, so your role as manager will primarily be in their behavioral enforcement and scheduling. It is important that every member of society become a functioning, autonomous contributor in some way. That form is typically through a road that starts with investment from birth in careers and families, but for those missing both, they require extra direction to find their place.”
Trixie definitely caught the extra direction for losing out on the birth lottery part. Her own history was so ironic. The intelligence of her family was the only chance she had to escape Cyber, despite their utter disregard for her. Had it been a normal loving family she would not have escaped Cyber. She wondered if the emptiness inside would be absent, the crushing confusion- what if love was enough even if the Hell light had found her. She shook her head and refocused on the training. Going back over impossible what ifs beyond her control was not what was going to help her make it forward.
Mr. Moten continued to explain the position. “Some of our participants will react better to soluble corn fiber for its satiety and slow transit, and may have inflammatory reactions to oat fiber whilst oat fiber typically assists others’ blood sugar stabilization and cholesterol levels. All of this data helps us better target what macro and micro nutrients for each of our species might best be utilized, the balances of soluble and insoluble fibers and their sources being but one example on the vast buffet of nutrition.”
That is when she saw the others in the room. They were all different ages, but dressed very casually just as she was. No uniform made sense now. She had filled in her forms, received her badge and continued the rest of the day going through the routines. Many concepts were still shocking to her, targeted less at the general gist of survival and more at the most minimal consequences. Where she was from, mild fluctuations and consequences had never been treated seriously. Sufficient caloric intake meant life, insufficient or excess meant death. Yet in this world, self damage from food or extremes seemed practically nonexistent.
Every public ingredient was still being fine tuned. The genetics of the people here were incredibly broad, and so the supplement styled meals would also be very diverse. The ice cream shop she had seen was likely not the sugar and saturated fat loaded form she had remembered. Perhaps even ice cream was as dramatic as one option being turmeric with theanine, and another being N-acetylcysteine with a side of nicotinamide adenine dinucleotide.
It was clear Miss Mayor sent their ship food from their own worlds to avoid overwhelming them before they landed on Gliese. The addictive components did not help Trixie’s emotional projections on it, she sighed. However, nobody seemed to be judgemental. This position might be great for her and the research participants together. The people she would be managing were not criminals, but they had been on that trajectory or come awfully close to being so. The group she was to oversee would be considered average on Cyber, but still necessary performers in her society. All of them except for Oximon- he did not seem to fit here, he was just a child.
Trixie sat down with Oximon on a bench against the wall. She wanted to figure out what exactly brought him here. “You sir, also seem too young to be in this group. Why is that?”
She did not expect the openness returned to her. “My parents didn’t want me anymore” he stated flatly. His parents didn’t want him.. Forever? She could not let that sink in or show up on her expression if she was to direct this conversation.
“What are your favorite things to do?” Trixie followed up.
“Oh. I like shooting games. I am not really brave about them though,” Oximon muttered.
“And why is that?” Trixie pushed. Shooting games, the irony, amidst eternal life she thought to herself. The action in her life was more than enough, she would probably put her own personal preferences at calm, chill and scenic type games.
“Well, I like boys. That isn’t exactly the place…to be me,” Oximon replied.
Trixie quirked an eyebrow. It was true, nuclear type families did make up the majorities on most planets. The same variability patterns absolutely existed for all differences on EVERY planet though, unrestricted. “Isn’t being gay normal here?”
“Yeah, but maybe not in certain places..” Oximon mumbled. Trixie did not need to pull an interrogation to gather what any responsible adult should do next.
“This is the future Oximon. I am certain there are already groups with sportscasters full of all kinds of people in them. Your fears come from rejection, understandably because of your family,” unfortunately this was the part where she knew exactly why he felt hated- it wasn’t the people around him. It was that brokenness in his chest of being unwanted when he was most vulnerable, or too young to even know how to live for himself. “Lets enroll you in one!” Trixie urged.
“You wouldn’t be able to figure out what to do even if you tried,” Oximon scoffed, “Plus you’d be dead soon anyway.”
“I can’t argue against my expiration..but I can tell you a secret Oximon. I am far more capable of adapting, learning, and knowing certain things than you would expect. It’s-” it is part of survival. It is especially part of being born as any female that was not born with exceptional advantages. Playing dumb while being comprehensive against the expectations of all underestimations…Trixie almost blurted. Survival. This part was not even in reality here. “It’s something useful.. That I can do.” Trixie ended simply.
With that, Trixie consulted Mr. Moten. She asserted her role as the new manager, and requested the immediate enrollment of Oximon into a shooting game that had an arrangement with diverse energetic awareness of the open variance that happened in any- and EVERY species across the universe. Just as she had supposed, many did already exist- with sportscasters, coaches, and group spirit that she knew would help Oximon feel at home.
“You’ll cheer me on?” Oximon asked, standing right beside her suddenly. She was a little unnerved, she had forgotten how needy children could be. She stepped back and smiled. “Absolutey, I will be reporting for duty Mr. Blaster!” Oximon beamed up at her.
Perhaps she would stay at this position for a while, until she felt Oximon was truly immersed and could find his best version of home ahead. She could already sense he would thrive magically as soon as HE realized that he deserved better from the very start. He had every right to claim the abundant existence to be experienced, and on a planet like this it really was already available to him.
Trixie did not ask Mr. Moten about those who found themselves behind bars in the prison system on Gliese. The very nature of being alive still clearly came with the choice of choosing what to do, and how to be- no matter how advanced the society was.