To Be Taught, If Fortunate

by Becky Chambers

If I ask what I’m asking only of people who agree with me at the outset, with whom I already share a dream and a language, then there’s no point in asking at all.

Humans are nothing if not adaptable.

It’s difficult to assign value to discovery when you haven’t sorted out the parameters of reality yet.

Habitable exoplanets may have been lost on me then, but metamorphosis never was. It has always been a thing of beauty to me, the fluidity of form.

The mirror knows you’re anxious to see yourself – but take your time, it says. I’m here when you’re ready, and not a second before. It is the kindest object placement I’ve ever seen.

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.

I can think of at least one lab tech back home who would frown at me for calling it glitter. Technically, what I possessed was synthetic reflectin, a protein naturally found in the skin of certain species of squid. But . . . come on. It’s glitter. My skin glittered, and for a moment, I felt childlike glee, like I’d emptied a bunch of craft supplies on myself, like I’d had my face painted at a carnival, like I’d flown here in a cloud of pixie dust. But it was practical, the astroglitter.

Besides which: I glittered. It felt like a damn shame to put my clothes on, but I managed it all the same.

This is what a forest is, after all. Don’t believe the lie of individual trees, each a monument to its own self-made success. A forest is an interdependent community. Resources are shared, and life in isolation is a death sentence.

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

We celebrate the tree that stretches to the sky, but it is the ground we should ultimately thank.

Her face shimmered, and I imagined the light waves bouncing from the reflectin in her skin to the reflectin in mine, then back to hers, then back to mine, an endless reciprocity.

early mornings, late nights, failed naps, wild dreams, quarrels, epiphanies, shouted answers, excited questions, hands that ached from work, eyes that burned from staying open, bruises that made me smile, thoughts that raced and never slowed.

We were alive on that world. We were kings without enemies, children removed from time.

‘We’re annoyed with them because they’re in our way. But they’re in their element. This is their niche, not ours.’

‘We’re not migrating, we’re sticking our noses in. We’re not here because we need food or territory. We’re here because we want to be.

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

‘You can only call it sacrifice if it’s consensual. Nobody asked the worms under the rock what they thought about the whole thing.’

I felt nothing but quiet loathing toward them, and the purity of that feeling was the ugliest I’ve ever felt. It’s not their fault, the good scientist in me feebly argued. They meant no harm. This is a terrible death. They don’t deserve this.

It is a paradox – the impossibility of reclaiming that which lies behind, housed within a form comprised entirely of the repurposed pieces of that same past. We exist where we begin, yet to remain there is death.

I saw exactly what my soul had longed for. A quiet place. A blank slate. A reality in which everything held still for however long I needed it to.

I could see him savour the way he hung in the air for a fraction of a second after every wobbly step. He didn’t care where the destination was or whether he looked good getting there. If he found joy in awkwardness, then I would, too.

Sometimes we are left with more questions than when we started. Sometimes we do harm, despite our best efforts. We are human. We are fragile.

We step out of our solar system into the universe seeking only peace and friendship – to teach, if we are called upon; to be taught, if we are fortunate. We know full well that our planet and all its inhabitants are but a small part of this immense universe that surrounds us, and it is with humility and hope that we take this step.