Light From Uncommon Stars

by Ryka Aoki

One becomes a good plumber, or mother, or Christian, or Dodger fan, or teenager. One lives section by section, one stage to the next.

Some don’t resolve at all. So people begin to fear playing beyond the sections they have played out of habit, out of fear.”

“And eventually one runs out of sections,” said Lan.

Might she not care? Because as she played, Katrina began to realize that yes, she was staring into a wall of darkness. But didn’t that also mean the lights were on her? Didn’t that mean that the stage was hers?

Katrina played a love song smashed against a wall, a dream for a child left beaten in their bed.

Risoluto, non troppo vivo. Resolutely, not too alive. As how you smile when a stranger spits at you. As how you keep breathing while a friend rapes you. As how you think calmly as a parent is kicking down your door.

Then Shizuka saw nothing but blackness. No, wait—this was not darkness at all. She was bathed in light.

From the stage, she looked out into the darkness. The darkness she missed. The darkness she loved, loved so much.

With no need for a beginning, nor any reason to end, the music continues. And so, no matter who you are, where you came from, what sins you have committed or hurt you have endured … when you are alone and there is no universe left to remember you. You can always, always rewrite your song.

hologram seemed to blush before