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December 24, 2022

Backstory

I had a grand idea for a sci-fi story. In November of 2022, one month prior, I started reading for the first time since high school. There was a lot I wanted to do, and I had no idea how. So I simply tried. I didn’t get too far, but it was a good first attempt. My vision for the story was too intricate. I had done quite a lot of planning; I would perhaps like to revisit those ideas in the future.

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Chapter 1

The beating heart, the ship that lives. Alive as we are, calm and quiet in its rhythmic uproar. This is the city-center. Not because it is at the center of a city, rather it is the center of a city. Our city. Our home. Our ship. All one and the same. And the center, its beating heart, is the perfect place to think.

“I thought I’d find you here!” came the all-too-familiar call of Adu. I suppose that when I need “space to think” next time, I shouldn’t return to the only space in which I think. But this time, I didn’t just need space. I really was upset.

Adu’s clanking footsteps approached cautiously from behind. I turned my face away so he wouldn’t see my tears. He sat down next to me, our feet dangling below the maintenance walkway’s railing. He knew I didn’t want to talk. My tears said all that I wanted to say. For a short while, we just sat there, watching the mesmerizing display of the true heart of our city: a miniature star captured behind a tinted glasslike veil, tendrils of plasma dancing the dance of life.

“It’s just the reality sinking in,” I finally said, wiping away a tear. “Two years is a long time.”

With his sympathetic, tired old eyes, Adu gave me a sad smile. “I don’t blame you. I certainly wasn’t ready when my time came. I guess nobody ever really is. And I can guarantee that not a soul aboard this ship would willingly head out for one year, let alone two. Not even for a vacation!” he said jokingly.

“But all that time for a food machine and skills I can learn out here? Are you sure this isn’t all just some twisted way of maintaining connections in the inner Rings? We would be doing just fine on our own.”

“We have been doing just fine,” replied Adu, taking on a tone of disapproval. “We’ve been doing just fine by doing our exchanges for the past two centuries.”

“And would it really hurt us if we didn’t? We have everything we could possibly need in the city, and even if we didn’t, the inner Rings are entirely within a few months’ reach.”

“You know the exchange is about more than resources.” Adu was frowning now. “Sure, you can learn whatever you need without going anywhere, but this isn’t about learning. We have our community, and we’re happy. It’s one thing to learn about how we got here from stories, but this city was built to get away from the going-ons of the Innies. We learned from their failures.” Sighing, Adu turned and looked me in the eyes. “Now I’m not suggesting that you should go and be miserable out there,” he continued, “it’s just that our collective experiences in the inner Rings, knowing what doesn’t work, is what keeps this place going – even more so than a new fruit synthesizer. You go out, you learn and grow, then you come back, and we’re all the better for it.”

I knew he was right. After all, it's what we are taught practically from the day we are born: learn from the Innies and don’t repeat their mistakes. Of course, it wouldn’t be quite so difficult to interact with them if independent city-ships weren’t illegal. Or, if the Third Ring wasn’t a lawless zone that nobody dared to enter except criminals and outcasts. And if that wasn’t bad enough, we only had one transporter: the ancient vessel that brought our founders here. And it always needed maintenance. Needless to say, travel is not our strong suit. Even “ordeal” is too light of a word for interacting with outsiders. But learning from them? That is an ordeal in itself.

Maybe somebody else would be grateful for the opportunity, but I certainly didn’t feel like I won the Lottery as everyone keeps telling me ever so cheerily. The Vote just had to decide on a fruit synthesizer for our “growing population.”

* * *

“I’m going for a walk,” I said, standing up and making a quick exit. I had done enough thinking about outsiders.

As I walked back to the surface, I felt rather guilty for how I questioned Adu. Out here, alone in the Outer Ring, we only have each other. And it is we who pass on our rules and systems – ones created for our benefit – to the youth. Our ways of living aren’t written down; they are passed on from generation to generation by experience. It truly isn’t about knowledge. We are happy. We know happiness. But by living in – not just visiting – the inner Rings, we learn about unhappiness. As we are taught, those two lonely years are the cost of our happiness. For how else can we avoid the shortcomings of humanity without knowing what they even are? Unfortunately, these aren’t subjects we can learn by experience in the city, and watching from afar doesn’t tell us why they are shortcomings. As such, the Lottery is something to be won, not lost. Or so we are told.

Approaching the surface, the gentle melody of water running through pipes paired with drumming of ventilation fans transitioned into the whirling of wind and rustling leaves. I squinted as I stepped out from the underbelly. It was a sunny autumn day, although every day tended to be sunny with a star under our feet – clouds are reserved for special occasions, after all. 

Continuing along the cobblestone path, I made my way to the lake, taking the long way to avoid running into anyone, and sat on a bench. Despite the glare from the light tubes hugging the dome above, I could still make out the reflections of the distant stars and galaxies. I heard that such sights are rare on planets. Do some people actually live all their lives in the vastness of the Rings without ever seeing the stars? I wondered. The very thought of looking up to see the same monochrome sky each day made me anxious.

I sat for a while, taking in the scene. How ironic, I thought, that this place is modeled after an echo of Earth.

Chapter 2

I woke up that night to the proximity alarm. Throwing on my jacket and slipping into my shoes, I fumbled my way to the basement. {parent1} and {parent2} were waiting for me at the {underlevel} door…