A Closed and Common Orbit (Wayfarers, #2)

by Becky Chambers

None of them were meant to share a world together – meant to share this world – yet here they were. Perhaps in that way, at least, she was not so different from them.

She wondered about that.

There was organisation at work, but clutter, too. The mark of a logical mind that sometimes strayed.

But among themselves, they were a four-gendered society. At Shimmerquick, their clothing reflected this: black for those who produced eggs, white for those who fertilised them, dark grey for the shons, who cyclically shifted reproductive roles, and light grey for those who could do neither.

Three walls meant there was a corner seat. That was the place for her.

tresha. Someone seeing a truth in you without being told.

A bird, black as night, beating its powerful wings through the dawn.

‘Pepper, my memory banks are filling up. I am not like you. I don’t have a brain that grows new folds and synapses whenever I learn something. You – you have an almost infinite capacity to learn things. I don’t.’

But evolution isn’t a – a thing you can wrangle like that. It doesn’t always go in predictable ways. Genes and chromosomes, they, um, they do their own thing sometimes.

‘The Enhanced call us m-misfits. People who don’t suit their intended purpose. So, maybe, ah, maybe you’re a misfit, too. Doesn’t mean you’re not deserving. Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be here.

He looked at her curiously. ‘Why, you thinking of getting some ink?’ The kit shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’ Blue laughed and ruffled the kit’s hair. ‘I mean, hey, if you’re g-going to have an existential crisis, go all out, yeah?’

All those little bits of light, they all had planets – so big that you couldn’t even tell that you were standing on a ball – and all those planets had people, and species! Species in different colours and kinds. Jane couldn’t even picture that many people. It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense.

I love learning. I love history. But there’s history in everything. Every building, everybody you talk to. It’s not limited to libraries and museums. I think people who spend their lives in school forget that sometimes.’

There are few better ways to get to know how a species thinks than to learn their art.’

‘I think it has to do with the fear of death. All organics are afraid of it, and there’s nothing that can be done to prevent bad things from happening sometimes. My guess is that there’s an odd sort of comfort in imagining that even if something horrible happens to you or someone you love, the ones responsible will always be caught, and the people who figure it out will do so in style.’

‘She doesn’t want me to do things that make it clear I have different abilities. She’s afraid someone will notice.’ ‘Are you afraid of that?’ Sidra processed. ‘No. I could hide it. I would be careful. I’m frustrated with what I am now. I’m capable of so much more.’

‘I get that it’s a different thing for you, but that doesn’t mean you have to abandon what makes you unique. You’re supposed to own that, not smother it.’

She thought about what that meant – dying. Just . . . ending. Lights out. The end.

Being nice didn’t change the way things were.

‘You break rules all the time.’ ‘I break laws. That’s different.

‘I’m not leaving my bones here,’ she said to herself as she moved. ‘I’m not leaving my bones here.’

Had he been more comfortable with her when she’d been easy to control? When she’d been truthful by default? She hoped not.

‘Life is terrifying. None of us have a rule book. None of us know what we’re doing here. So, the easiest way to stare reality in the face and not utterly lose your shit is to believe that you have control over it. If you believe you have control, then you believe that you’re at the top.