Callisto 2.0, Susan English [i love reading .TXT] 📗

think that way. You don’t anymore?”

“Maybe I was a little naive, or maybe it was just wishful thinking. But as I got older, and started to see the incredible evil that humans are capable of, well ….” I shrugged.

“I believe the same thing happened to me.”

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“We’re both in the same boat, then,” I said with a timid smile.

Just then, the porter came around with virtual reality headsets. I shook my head, and Diana did the same.

“Are you not a fan of VR?” she asked.

“I never wanted to get the implant. I guess I prefer to live in the real world.”

“I agree with you, Calli. I’d rather see things as they are, if that’s even possible for a human to do.”

“Maybe that’s why we both chose science,” I said, peering at her through lowered lashes.

“Do you think it was love?”

My eyes grew wide. What was she talking about?

“Oh, sorry, I was going back to our earlier conversation. Do you think the spark of the divine that you were talking about is love?”

“I don’t know, could be. But if it is love, then it wouldn’t be your garden-variety love.

It would have to be love in its purest form—unconditional and perfect.”

“I like the way you think.”

My heart rate accelerated, and suddenly I couldn’t take my eyes off hers.

She glanced at her wrist computer, breaking eye contact. “I have Foundation work I need to focus on for the next couple of days, but we can meet again tomorrow evening for dinner if you’d like.”

“That would be great.” I pretended to look out the window, excitement welling up inside me.

◆◆◆

Although there was no day and night on the spacecraft, the ship followed Cuban standard time. My days were spent on the observation deck, notebook and pen in hand, though most of the time I stared out the window, and Diana was, presumably, holed up in her cabin with her Foundation work. As she had promised, we dined together the next two evenings of our trip.

Our second dinner together, as we stood side by side looking out the window, our empty mush bags floating in the air like deflated metallic balloons, Diana said, “It looks so fragile, doesn’t it?” I followed her gaze, studying the small blue marble that was our home. “Sometimes I think that the world would have been far better had we not evolved.”

“Humans, you mean?”

“Yes. Though if not us, it would have been one of our cousins, our competition.”

“But who knows what the world would be like if the Neanderthals were the victorious hominid. Would we still have space travel? Music? Philosophy?”

“Or cruelty? War? Mass extinction?” she countered.

I arched an eyebrow. “I see you like to focus on the positive side of humanity.”

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She laughed then. “You’re right. I appear to be stuck in a groove of negativity, don’t I? After our conversation about the evil nature of humankind, you must think I’m quite the pessimist. Let’s find some cheerful topic, shall we?”

“Kittens are always a good subject,” I offered. “Puppies, if you’re real y depressed.”

Her face lit up. “I don’t think we’re quite at the puppy level, do you? That sounds serious.” She cocked her head and pursed her lips, eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Definitely not!” I laughed. “Puppies are the big guns of happiness, only to be employed when all other alternatives have been exhausted.”

“I’m so pleased you decided to come.” She met my eyes, and I felt myself sink into hers. “Tell me, what’s your opinion on the happiness effect of tropical fish?”

Tearing my gaze away, I assessed the smoothness of the window ledge with the ball of my thumb, a little flustered. “Are we talking about full-grown fish, or newly hatched?” I snuck a peek at her—she was smiling. Feeling brave, I said, “Or really small fish, like guppies? I remember reading a study on this very topic, and the correlation between fish size and the happiness scale is surprisingly precise. So maybe you want to clarify your question?”

Now she was flat-out laughing. “I will retract my inquiry until I’ve done my due diligence. Clearly, I had no idea I was dealing with a qualified professional.”

“Duly noted.” I swept my eyes over her face. She seemed genuinely happy, without a trace of the sadness I had seen before. But was it real? I didn’t know her well enough to judge. “Is there a reason you’ve been feeling negative?” I ventured. It was a bold question, perhaps more appropriate for close friends, a testament to how at ease I felt with her.

She dismissed my inquiry with a smile and a wave of her hand. “Just me being philosophical. It happens sometimes.” She reached out to squeeze my arm, and I melted into her warm grip. She released me, and my arm felt colder than it had been. “Tell me about yourself, Calli. I’m fascinated to know why you decided to focus on the warp drive.”

My eyes were pulled to my reflection in the window, superimposed on the image of the diminutive Earth, watching as the heat stained my cheeks pink. Like physical contact, I wasn’t accustomed to personal questions. But I had been so open with her earlier, and she so generous and empathetic in return. I took a moment, trying to find the right words, but none seemed adequate. “I want to travel the Universe,” I said simply.

“A commendable objective.” The sides of Diana’s mouth twitched.

“I know the idea of warp travel is considered science fiction, and the chances of me figuring it out are, well, not astronomical y small, but….” I gave a self-deprecating laugh.

“Probably not something I should admit to a possible future employer, right?”

“It may not be as impossible as you think.” She gave me an enigmatic smile.

“Oh, I’m not being negative,” I said. “I believe it’s possible, that the answer is out there somewhere, we just have to find it. If not me, then someone else. I’m convinced 19

that one day humans will be able to travel to distant star systems.”

“I think so too. And who knows, Callisto, you might be just the one to do it.”

I laughed, my body relaxed. “I’ll do my best.”

◆◆◆

The following afternoon, our paths crossed in the gym. Diana was already running on the treadmill when I started my resistance exercises. She was graceful in everything she did—even in micro-g she was poetry in motion, and the image of a panther sprang unbidden to my mind. One time, I must have been staring, because she looked me straight in the eyes. I looked down immediately and felt my face flush.

That evening, we talked for hours, touching on a variety of topics—literature, philosophy, government systems, and, naturally, science. Diana was a captivating conversationalist, and every moment I spent with her I felt more comfortable, more drawn to her. Curiously, Diana never spoke about herself. After three days of travel, I knew nothing of her personal life.

The next morning, we made a smooth transition into orbit around the Moon, and soon after, the ship was connected to the end of one of Tako’s long arms, the airlocks were opened, and we entered the station, our bags in tow. I followed Diana through the passageways to another terminal, where a shuttle was waiting for us. With the help of the station crew, we donned our spacesuits and then entered the shuttle. We settled into our seats and secured our seat belts, prepared for the short journey. The doors were closed, the shuttle released, and we were on our way.

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