The Rainbow Maker's Tale (4 page)

Now that I was focused, I
realised that the comfortable silence was no longer so simple. Long
ago, I had been told that Cassie held answers, before I really knew
what the problems were. From everything I knew of her, that seemed
doubtful, but at the same time, it felt a shame to waste the short
time I would have with her. I wanted to know more. If I could, I’m
sure I would have wanted to know
everything
– I always did –
but that was never going to be possible. I settled for the first
question that came to mind.

“Why don’t you use automatic
discourse in your exams?”

“I don’t always use the
keyboard,” she disagreed. “I was using the headset today.”

A new wariness crept into
Cassie’s eyes, and I watched her for a moment; mildly surprised
that such a simple question would make her seem so on edge. I might
not be good at reading body language, but I definitely got the
feeling that she didn’t wanted anyone noticing her behaviour as
being
different
. It seemed odd, and in my experience, being
odd usually meant something.

“Not for the whole exam though
– what made you change?” I pressed on, looking for an answer.

“I just like to use the
keyboard for answering certain types of question.” Cassie shrugged
casually, as though to convey that it was nothing.

“What types of question?” I
couldn’t harness my curiosity. Then, found myself wondering if
perhaps Cassie’s reaction wasn’t wariness, but irritation. Why
did
I always have to know the answer to everything? I was so
annoying.

“It’s usually the longer,
essay-type ones. I find it easier to arrange my thoughts in my head
and then type them out, rather than trying to organise and
regurgitate them simultaneously. I find myself doing that with the
headset sometimes.”

Cassie answered me – irritating
as I perhaps was – and I realised that she actually seemed to enjoy
responding to my odd questions. I was busy realising this, not
expecting her to turn the focus back onto me.

“What about you? I noticed you
using the keyboard this afternoon – ”

How do I answer this?
Honestly?

Well, to tell you the truth,
Cassie, I was daydreaming about how – out of pretty much everyone
I’ve ever met on the station – you hold a particular fascination
for me, which I’ve never been able to understand. Instead of
answering the exam question, I was pre-occupied with completing an
in-depth assessment of the creamy appearance of your skin, but then
you turned around and saw me and so I pretended to be typing, so
you wouldn’t think I was weird. Or, even worse, a bit of a
stalker.

No. The truth was not an
option.

Keep it simple, I told myself.
“I’ve seen you use the keyboard in the past and wondered why – just
thought I’d try it.” Accompanied by a relaxed shrug, I was sure I
looked the picture of casualness.

“And?” she encouraged, her eyes
widening to emphasise the question.

“And…” I echoed her drawn out
tone. “Once I got used to it, I found that it helped keep thoughts
clear in my head for answering the question, especially once I was
planning out more complex arguments.” I was slightly surprised to
find that my excuse was not actually a lie. Perhaps using the
headset wasn’t everything it was made out to be.

“Do you enjoy history?” Cassie
asked as soon as I finished answering her last question.

I thought she seemed genuinely
interested…well, honesty was fine for this one I supposed.

“Yes, but not like you do.” I
forgot myself and answered a little too honestly; my knowledge
surely revealing the particular interest I paid to her likes and
dislikes.
Stalker
, I accused myself again.

“What do you mean?”

Of course my odd knowledge was
confusing to her – it baffled me – I tried to be dismissive, back
to being casual and thinking before I spoke this time. “Nothing
bad, just that I always got the impression it was one of your best
subjects, along with Literary Studies...”

Apparently Cassie accepted this
simple explanation. “And yours would be Astro-engineering I take
it?” she replied.

Her familiarity with
my
preferences startled me; perhaps I was not quite as invisible as I
thought? Don’t flatter yourself, I scoffed, you’ve come top of the
class every year; she’d have to be pretty obtuse never to have
noticed that! Ignoring the pragmatic voice, I spoke truthfully once
more, wanting this stranger to understand something about me –
something
real
.

“Engineering is probably my
best subject, but I think my
favourite
is Biochemistry.” I
told her.

A small groan of aversion
escaped Cassie’s lips and at first I thought I had said something
wrong –
how could I have offended her?
– then I saw the
expression on her face and remembered that they were probably the
least popular subjects for everyone else at school, why would
Cassie be any different?

“What’s the matter? You’re good
at both of them!” I laughed lightly, causing her to grimace even
more.

“I get by,” she amended. “Don’t
get me wrong, I find both of them interesting, but neither of them
is a natural strong point for me.”

“You know what’s funny?” I
realised suddenly, speaking my thoughts aloud as my feet froze
mid-step – walking and talking seemed a little difficult for me
today.

Cassie paused too, curious once
more. “What?”

“Our parents have exactly the
same jobs and had their children at the same time, but you and I
are quite different.”
Surely our genetically similar backgrounds
and upbringings by parents working in the same professions would
have generated some similarities between us? Even our basic
academic preferences appeared at odds with one another…

Cassie was regarding me with
confusion, she didn’t appear to be convinced by my observation.
“Why would that make us alike?” A dismissive shrug accompanied her
words and I realised that she did this more than I’d ever noticed
before: she repeatedly shrugged to down play her words or opinion.
Was she less confident than I’d always thought?

Pushing this observation aside,
I answered her question, trying to explain myself. “Well, just that
with the whole nature/nurture thing, you would have expected some
similarities, but it seems we’re quite different.”

Cassie moved off, apparently
satisfied with whatever information my limited answer had given
her. She had walked a few steps ahead of me before I reminded my
own feet to move as well. With a couple of long strides I fell back
into step beside her, content to simply walk beside her and remain
silent for a while. I focused on my feet, padding along easily next
to hers and lost myself in blank musings.

The time passed far too quickly
and the next thing I knew we were entering Park 17. Curling over
the entrance to the park, the archway – designed in the style of
heavy Victorian ironwork, but made of plastic – felt odd and
contrived to me. The familiar stirrings of irritation swirled in my
stomach as I noticed this.

Crossing into the park, our
footsteps made a new sound as the pathway changed from plastic to
wood. It was constructed from the trunks of banana trees that were
grown in the agricultural sector – its purpose purely decorative
and intended to give the sense of a home none of us had ever known.
I couldn’t imagine that the use of wood for this purpose was
accurate: it would not have been durable enough to survive the
natural elements on Earth for long, nor did it match the images I’d
seen of Earth cities or settlements. As usual, the lack of
authenticity aggravated me.

Looking for a distraction from
the acidic thoughts beginning to bubble in my mind, I quite gladly
turned my attention back to Cassie.

The features of her face seemed
relaxed as she watched her own feet, examining the wooden pathway
we were clumping along. She was still lost in her thoughts. I
wondered whether she saw something different here than the
frustrating artifice I did and I found myself eager to know what
absorbed her thoughts so completely.

“What are you thinking about?”
I asked gently, not wanting to startle her. It didn’t work and
Cassie jumped at the sound of my voice. Turning abruptly towards me
as though she had forgotten my presence altogether – easily done
I’ll admit, given the effort I normally put into being invisible –
Cassie began silently interrogating me with her eyes. In the first
instance she looked apologetic, but that rapidly melted into the
same unidentifiable expression I’d noted earlier. She was so
confusing to me. There were questions in her eyes that I longed to
understand, but it seemed she was in no hurry to make them known.
The light rose that blossomed on her cheeks as she blushed at some
unknown thought surprised me.
Huh – that was attractive
and
frustrating
…

“Can I ask you something?” she
finally replied, preventing me from bursting with impatience.

I nodded quickly, not trusting
myself to speak without my eagerness leaking through. She’ll think
you’re completely crazy if you don’t restrain yourself, I warned
sternly.

Cassie’s face scrunched up as
she concentrated – apparently searching for the words to articulate
her question. For a moment I was distracted by how cute she looked
when she did this, before my impatience began to leak through
again.

How hard can it be to ask a
question?

At length, Cassie found her
words.

“Do you ever feel like you miss
the Earth? Even though you’ve never been there. Do you think it’s
possible – or even normal – to miss something you never had?”

Her green eyes sparkled now,
inquisitive and eager to know my answer and I almost lost myself in
them. I’d never had Cassie’s friendship – her attention – before
now, but I knew that when I left the Family Quarter I would miss
her
. I would miss something I’d never had.

But, did I feel the same way
about the Earth…?

Pulling my gaze reluctantly
away from Cassie I focused blankly on the park around us, before
lifting my eyes upwards as I pondered her question and considered
how truthful or not I should be. Not that it matters, I reminded
myself of my earlier promise: this is a one-off. You won’t need to
see her after today.

“I
think
it’s possible –
likely even – to miss our original home. I wonder if it’s the same
as the way I think about the sky: because I know it isn’t real, I
find it disappointing. None of this is
real
– unlike Earth –
and so it becomes false and you miss the reality.”

“But, do you feel like you
miss
the sky?” Cassie’s insistence made it sound as though
I’d answered the wrong question. “Do you miss the sky as though
there had been a time when you sat beneath it to watch cloud
patterns spreading over you, or marvelled at a great expanse of
sapphire blue, unmarked by anything else…?”

While I thought for another few
seconds – trying to clarify what she was asking me – I couldn’t
help smiling. Her tone was so endearing and wistful when she was
talking about this; it made her sound like she was from another
time, another world.

“Is that funny?” she asked,
sounding unsure as she noticed the expression on my face.

No, not funny. I shook my
head.

It appeared that was not
enough. Cassie’s eyes remained fixed onto mine, demolishing my
defenses, and when I spoke again all I could do was be honest.

“I was smiling because you
sounded…happy or free or…something…” My voice sounded almost as
wistful as hers, and I was unable to really find the words I was
looking for. Nothing more came and so I rushed on without thinking.
“I don’t know – when you spoke like that – you sounded like one of
the romantic poets expounding on the beauty of nature asking me if
I missed the
hot and copper sky, the bloody sun at
noon
.”

Poetry?! I instantly scoffed at
myself as the words passed my lips and I had to look away from
Cassie.
You’re quoting poetry at this girl?

I know…I know…I almost muttered
my frustrated response aloud, but not quite. But yes, quoting
poetry to someone you’ve barely ever spoken to…it was obvious I had
issues – far too many to mention!

I waited nervously. Waited for
Cassie’s laughter, or confusion, or…
something
. There was
just silence.
Shocked silence?

“I’m surprised you remember
that kind of thing so well,” Cassie said at length.

She sounded normal, perhaps
even slightly impressed I thought. Even so, I couldn’t look over to
meet her gaze to verify whether she had me pegged as crazy or
smart.

“So…” Cassie continued. “Do you
actually
miss
the sky, or is it something else?”

I smiled once more, as I became
sure that I hadn’t ruined the conversation with my openness, and
answered her new question. “It’s the reality I miss – or crave is
probably a better description – I want to
know
what it feels
like to truly be human. I want to live on the planet that created
us, rather than floating around a few hundred miles away from it in
space. We came from the dust of that place and I want to feel the
same dust that created us beneath my feet.”

“But there’s nothing left!” She
was shocked. “When the expats came aboard the space station they
were the last humans who were going to survive. The rest
were…doomed!” Her voice faltered at the end, as though her initial
reaction was being re-considered as she spoke.

That was not what I had meant.
I wasn’t thinking that I actually wanted to go back to the desolate
Earth that our ancestors had left behind to protect us. Just that
the
reality
of what had existed there would be natural for
us to crave. If Cassie reacted so strongly to this, how would she
feel about some of my more radical notions about what was and was
not right about the community we lived within?