{"id":705,"date":"2022-08-21T16:14:13","date_gmt":"2022-08-21T14:14:13","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/albert.aribaud.net\/?p=705"},"modified":"2022-11-30T21:59:06","modified_gmt":"2022-11-30T20:59:06","slug":"rays-of-hope","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/aribaud.net\/albert\/en\/rays-of-hope\/","title":{"rendered":"Rays of Hope"},"content":{"rendered":"

This is my contribution to #RaysDay 2022.
\nFeel free to comment here, or on Mastodon<\/a>, or on Twitter<\/a>!<\/em><\/p>\n

This short story is published by me, Albert ARIBAUD,
\nunder the Creative Commons CC-BY-NC-SA 4.0 International<\/a>
\n<\/em>license, with the express indication that reproduction MUST be made
\nin a form or on a medium which has NO access restriction or DRM.<\/em><\/p>\n

The man was seated in a deck chair on the terrace.<\/p>\n

Usually, this late in the afternoon he would watch the distant clouds of sparkling ice drifting beyond the horizon in pursuit of the soon dwindling daylight. But it wasn\u2019t a usual day, and he\u2019d turned the chair away from the sunset to face the nearby hills, where the ship had landed.<\/p>\n

From time to time, he picked a few puffed kernels from a jasper bowl Maggie had put on the side table earlier. She was probably somewhere around in the buggy, although he would be hard-pressed to tell where exactly, or what for. Not that it mattered much; should he need her, all he had to do was call her name, and it would be as if she\u2019d never left. It seemed as if she could come and go at a whim.<\/p>\n

On the other hand, the astronaut had been following the long way, painstakingly walking from the hills, for over three hours. Apparently the ship did not contain a buggy. Maybe it was too much mass for its reactor? Or was room needed for something else? He wondered idly, even though he did not really care to know.<\/p>\n

Eventually, the newcomer arrived at the multicolored sandstone stairs that led to the terrace and clumsily began to unlock the cumbersome suit helmet.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

\u201cA woman?\u201d<\/p>\n

Hope could not tell whether the man was simply surprised by an unusual event, or dissatisfied with an abnormal one. She weighed her thoughts for a few seconds before she resumed taking the suit off and answered.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes. Did you expect a man?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat? Oh, no. Well, I was assuming<\/em> a man. The suit does<\/em> make you bigger.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m five foot nine. Taller than you. Well, taller than you were back then.\u201d<\/p>\n

The man smiled, then frowned slightly.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, by the way: what year do you hail from?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTwenty-one-twenty.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh. I had definitely lost track of time.\u201d He laughed. \u201cSo… What brings the nations of Earth back here after all this time? And, indeed, what took them so long?\u201d<\/p>\n

Hope shrugged.<\/p>\n

\u201cAsk them. I wasn\u2019t sent by these nations. Not even by one nation.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you saying that you built the ship by yourself? I am all for nice stories, but\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI only managed to find the way to this place and fly the ship, but I did not build it. A billionaire wanted a ship to land here, so they built the ship\u2014well, they had it built, but to them that\u2019s the same.\u201d<\/p>\n

The man looked at the mountains.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, so he stayed in the ship and sent you scouting?\u201d<\/p>\n

Again, Hope considered him in silence for a few seconds.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe stayed on Earth.\u201d<\/p>\n

The man frowned.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t understand. Didn\u2019t you say he wanted to fly to here?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe wanted a ship<\/em> to fly to here. That\u2019s our billionaires for you. They want things done, but they don\u2019t want to do these things. They want someone to make it so. They can afford the inconsistency.\u201d<\/p>\n

The man stayed silent for a while, then frowned.<\/p>\n

\u201cWait a second\u2026 Taller than I was back then<\/em>? Do you know me?\u201d<\/p>\n

Hope sighed.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, I do\u2014a little. In fact, one reason I did want to fly to here was because I thought that, against all odds, there was a chance I\u2019d meet you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hope\u2019s legs were starting to feel stiff. She pointed to the couch close to the side table.<\/p>\n

\u201cMay I?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo make yourself comfortable. Maggie must\u2019ve known you would arrive while she was out; that explains the second glass by the decanter of fresh light wine. Help yourself. I\u2019m afraid I\u2019ve eaten most of the puffed kernels, though.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you, that\u2019s alright.\u201d She tilted her head. \u201cSo your wife is around?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, although right now she\u2019s out and about somewhere. She\u2019ll like to meet you. Speaking of meetings\u2026 Would you mind telling me why<\/em> you went to such lengths to meet me<\/em>?\u201d<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

\u201cI grew up with your stories. And of others, of course, but yours made a strong impression on me.<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course I was young when I first read them, so\u2026 most of the messages got way over my head. But I could see the places, the people, the alien beauty.<\/p>\n

\u201cThen I grew up a bit, and I began to see the imperfections\u2014or what I thought were imperfections. I could see why some people said your chronicles were not science fiction, and I agreed with them. It would take me more time to realize that you were right about them: they\u2019re not science fiction indeed, because they\u2019re fantasy.<\/p>\n

\u201cI grew up yet more, saw more and more of the messages in your books, the ones you sent knowingly, and the ones you didn\u2019t know you were sending. Eventually, I set out to learn more about you.<\/p>\n

\u201cI learned about your strong support for books, and reading and public libraries, your enthusiasm for computers, your insistence that your sole science fiction book be as widely available as possible in electronic form, your eagerness for politics, your ideals on education.<\/p>\n

The man idly picked on the side table a soft cloth which, most probably, Maggie had placed there, took out his thick glasses, and started cleaning them.<\/p>\n

Hope felt his image was slightly jerky.<\/p>\n

He looked up.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s a lot of praise\u2014for which I thank you. Now, let us move on to what else you learned.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hope smiled sadly.<\/p>\n

\u201cI learned about your dislike of the internet, your disdain for politics, and your stance against actively helping minorities access education…\u201d<\/p>\n

Again, Hope felt like there were ghost images when he put his glasses back on and answered.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd I do stand by it. Did you expect me to be any different here from how I was back there? I still think the Internet did not live up to my expectations, I still think politicians and states are useless, and I still do not think much of affirmative action and political correctness.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hope looked at the few distant cities. She could discern delicate towers of colorful stone.<\/p>\n

\u201cYet here and now you are a minority. Your house is allowed, but away from theirs. Their knowledge is not yours to learn. Did that not change you mind?\u201d<\/p>\n

He sighed.<\/p>\n

\u201cI understand why they do it. We are a nuisance to them. We did them a lot of harm.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat about the purity of education then?\u201d<\/p>\n

This time his answer was unintelligible, and this time Hope could clearly see the many expressions he sported all at once.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

Hope looked at the crystal trees in the silicon garden down the terrace. They sported many bright dots, and you\u2019d think it was a starry field, until you realized they were all images of the sun. There was a pragmatic explanation, of course, with prisms and light refraction and so on. And at the same time, each of these dots was a unique version of the sun.<\/p>\n

She looked back at the man. When he didn\u2019t move at all, it was almost imperceptible. But when he waved an arm, or shifted in his chair, she could see the phantoms of him, trailing behind, diverging.<\/p>\n

He’s like this planet<\/em>, she thought.<\/p>\n

You can fly to this point in space, and if you don\u2019t pay attention, you\u2019ll land on a not-so-reddish ball of dust with only a couple of sad, powered down, robot rovers for company. But if you know how to go about it<\/em>, then you will land here, and you\u2019ll find the colors, the silvers, the people\u2014and him.<\/em><\/p>\n

And depending on how you go about finding him, you will find him<\/em> different. The one with the ideals on education. the one with scorn for higher education. All the ones he\u2019s been, all the ones he<\/em> could have been.<\/em><\/p>\n

There\u2019s not a<\/em> single him. There\u2019s an infinity of variations, of reflections, of facets. Maybe even, if someone had come along with me, they and I would not see the same man here and now.<\/em><\/p>\n

She looked at the distant city, its ornate houses and delicate colors visible despite the distance.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo\u2026 They are right when they bar you from learning from them.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you think learning should be accessible to all.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hope pondered the answers in silence.<\/p>\n

The man picked a puffed kernel from the bowl. Apparently, there were some left after all.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

Hope stood up.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll have to go now, back to the ship and then back to Earth.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNight is coming soon. Won\u2019t you stay, sleep here, and leave tomorrow?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe time window for the flight back is rather tight, and I\u2019ve got a headlight.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s a pity. You\u2019ll miss Maggie.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hope considered the mountains where her ship had landed. Three to four hours of walking, assuming the distance was the same on the way back as it had been to get here.<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe I\u2019ll meet her on my way. Maybe even she\u2019ll let me hitchhike on the buggy, who knows?\u201d<\/p>\n

Some of him shrugged, some smiled.<\/p>\n

\u201cWho knows, indeed? Will you excuse me for not getting up to wish you farewell? I\u2019m afraid my condition is not any better than it was in twenty-twelve.\u201d<\/p>\n

He turned to look at the last ebbs of the day on the horizon, and spoke no more.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

Hope had been walking for less than half an hour when she heard the steady sound of an engine behind her. A buggy was approaching, a woman at the wheel. Hope had never seen a picture of Maggie, but there was no doubt that it was her.<\/p>\n

The buggy was obviously catching up with Hope, following the same path that she had. She stopped, turned, and waited. A few minutes later, the buggy halted a couple of meters from her, the engine noise died, and the driver got out and walked closer.<\/p>\n

\u201cHello, Hope. I\u2019m not Maggie.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hope sighed.<\/p>\n

\u201cI hadn’t told him my name. The only way you could learn it was from inside my head. That\u2019s where you took him too, right? All these projections of him, they needed a source image, and you took that from my mind. Correct?\u201d<\/p>\n

The being who looked like Maggie stood silent for a few seconds.<\/p>\n

\u201cAlmost correct. We created him\u2014and the house\u2014from your mind, but all his projections, they were not ours. These are your<\/em> projections. We merely made him exist.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDoes he still exist now?\u201d<\/p>\n

There was no answer.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, all that he said, that was me saying it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMost of it was your idea of him saying that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAlright. But why drop the mask now?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause you had already seen through it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut you still try to look human to me. I mean, terran.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI am not trying. That\u2019s your mind coping with what your eyes really see. You\u2019re lucky that it works this way for you. I<\/em> see you as you<\/em> are, and believe me, you are alien<\/em>, and the suit does not help.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you planning on killing me? It happened a few times in his stories.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re leaving. And you\u2019re not going to come back, because let\u2019s face it, what will you bring back from your trip that\u2019ll warrant another one? No one will ever believe you, especially not your sponsor. What would be the point in killing you? I came out of courtesy, to drive you back to your ship, as you hinted that I should. Shall we go?\u201d<\/p>\n

The one Hope saw as Maggie climbed back onto the driver’s seat. Hope lingered, then went and sat on the passenger seat. The buggy shuddered, then lurched forward. Hope remained silent for several minutes; then she could not resist any more.<\/p>\n

\u201cThose things he said that I did not like. Were these my idea of him saying them, or was it me saying them?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSometimes either. Sometimes both.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI thought I would confront him. All I did was confront myself, then?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is not all you did, but yes, that you did; isn’t that the purpose of this whole place? And it is more useful this way, because you could not have changed anything about him, but you can change at least some<\/em> things about yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hope mulled it over for the rest of the ride.<\/p>\n

Then for the whole trip back to Earth.<\/p>\n

And then for the rest of her life.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

This is my contribution to #RaysDay 2022. Feel free to comment here, or on Mastodon, or on Twitter! This short story is published by me, Albert ARIBAUD, under the Creative Commons CC-BY-NC-SA 4.0 International license, with the express indication that reproduction MUST be made in a form or on a medium which has NO access […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":10,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[76,23],"tags":[78],"class_list":["post-705","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-raysday","category-writings","tag-raysday"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/aribaud.net\/albert\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/705","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/aribaud.net\/albert\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/aribaud.net\/albert\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/aribaud.net\/albert\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/10"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/aribaud.net\/albert\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=705"}],"version-history":[{"count":20,"href":"https:\/\/aribaud.net\/albert\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/705\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":765,"href":"https:\/\/aribaud.net\/albert\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/705\/revisions\/765"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/aribaud.net\/albert\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=705"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/aribaud.net\/albert\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=705"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/aribaud.net\/albert\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=705"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}