To Be Taught, If Fortunate

by Becky Chambers

I’m an observer, not a conqueror. I have no interest in changing other worlds to suit me. I choose the lighter touch: changing myself to suit them.

How can you think of the stars when the seas are spilling over? How can you spare thought for alien ecosystems when your cities are too hot to inhabit?

How can anyone be expected to care about the questions of worlds above when the questions of the world you’re stuck on – those most vital criteria of home and health and safety – remain unanswered?

The amount a person can spare is relative; the value of generosity is not.

I will not detail here what I did or said on family day, or repeat the words that still echo in my ears. That belongs to me alone. I’m not going to perform that part of myself for anyone.

At some point, you have to accept the fact that any movement creates waves, and the only other option is to lie still and learn nothing.

I was taught to be objective, as a scientist, but I cannot help the fact that I am also an animal with instincts of my own.

Is that a fair trade, their pain for our knowledge?’

I had become so accustomed to the cacophony that part of me perversely wished for it, more trusting of unending discord than peace that could be snatched away. I would never again be the Ariadne who had not been to Opera,