Sky extended his fist for Ada to bump.
"What's your name, little thing?"
"Ada."
"Just Ada?"
"Ada from the SharePlace on Caliban-1."
"A SharePlace? Wow, you know I once had a girlfriend from a SharePlace?"
"No? Really?" Ada asked, very intrigued.
"A camp on the big League planet, Polydore. She was amazing for cuddles, but toward the end, we fought a lot. And she was an ex from Dante, so when we argued, she hit like a bandit. Now, may the blind gods bless her, she's in the After, probably tormenting some poor sucker like me."
"The HS kidnapped her from her SharePlace?"
"Oh no, we weren't at war then. She came on her own."
"Why?"
"Ha! One day she told me: 'The best thing about being able to own stuff isn't having it but being able to give gifts.' Bad temper but a heart of gold." (He kissed his fingers, then sent an invisible kiss fluttering toward the sky like a butterfly.) "Oh, Andromeda, one day I'll find you in the After! Anyway, this is your first trip, I bet?"
"During the first one, I was asleep."
"Yeah, asleep. Alright, so have you seen the cabin in the back? It's a complete dump, isn't it? So I'm giving you a choice: either you sit in that awful cabin with a flickering neon light, or you come up front with me, like a co-pilot, and you can see everything as we travel through the stars. What's it gonna be?"
"I want to go up front!"
"Of course, you want to go up front! But I'm warning you, if you puke, you clean it!"
"I'm totally not gonna throw up!"
"Wait till you hit zero gravity, little thing!"
"I've spent 9 years in zero gravity, big guy!"
"Alright, climb aboard!"
For the first time in a long while, Ada hopped with joy.
They climbed into the cabin. The seats were soft—they adjusted with gentle mechanical sounds to fit Ada's frame. It wasn't tidy or clean: it smelled of food, and there were wrappers everywhere. Buttons and levers filled the console. More concerning were the flashing warning lights, which Sky covered with objects to ignore them.
"Okay, Madam Ambassador from the SharePlace. All ships basically work the same way. Three operating modes for three situations. First, do you see this main lever?"
He pointed to a lever that tilted in all directions with a button on top.
"Once we start the engine, moving this lever activates the thrusters. Fuel isn't unlimited, so we mostly use this to hover a few dozen meters or make fine adjustments. Then there's the Inertial Grapple."
He pulled out a mobile control panel with arrows and numeric keys, connected to the ship by a cable.
"This is for interstellar travel. It fires an immaterial grappling hook that attaches to an orbital platform. Then the grapple pulls us along. An amazing thing we found on Mars ages ago, which our parents used to colonize the mythical Earth system. And you know the best part? We still don't understand how it works. Transient tech."
"Can it attach to anything?"
"Yeah, even to someone. Poor guy—they'd be shredded to bits. But it's heavily regulated. And you need skill: the grapple will propel you toward the platform, and the trick is not crashing into it. There are safeguards, but real pilots—and I think you want to become one—grapple in a way that avoids the platform and heads for the stars."
"Can it latch onto another planet?"
"Sure, but the grapple travels at light speed. If we hook Calchas-3, for example, it'll latch on in 2 hours and 30 minutes. Annoying, right? But not every planet has a platform or even a moon. Sometimes you just can't take off every day. Ready?"
"Weren't there three operating modes?"
"We'll get to that later. Let's go. I hate this goddamn cop planet."
He checked the straps securing Ada to her seat, pulled levers that tightened the seals with a hissing sound, pressed various buttons showing 100% values, and repeatedly flipped a yellow switch until it turned green. With a lurch, the Raven took off. A Xeno marshaller made an irritated gesture at the rough departure, and as the Nomad gained altitude, it tilted its nose toward the sky, where placid clouds drifted.
Sky pulled the inertial grapple controls toward him. A computerized reticle targeted some unknown objective, and the Raven was yanked skyward. Ada was pinned to her seat by the force, her chest and stomach compressed. Seconds stretched as the clouds swelled, then vanished. The sky paled, then darkened violently, revealing millions of stars.
The Raven flew within a hundred meters of a mysterious, flat stellar object: the grappling platform, and then continued its course into the void. The acceleration ceased, and Ada once again felt the familiar lightness of zero gravity.
Sky turned his head toward her and pointed to a spot where she could throw up. But her stomach was used to it, and her inner ear quickly adjusted.
"Now let's talk about interstellar travel," Sky said, pointing to the last piece of equipment.
It was an ancient-looking computer, like a child's keyboard with oversized buttons and a tiny screen that displayed only four colors. It was no bigger than a matchbox and half-buried under rolls of paper that floated slightly in the absence of gravity.
"How old are you, thirteen?""Yeah, almost.""Yeah, you can handle this. So, do you know where Calchas-3 is?"
He gave one of the thrusters a burst on one side, spinning the Raven 180 degrees. The planet Calchas, green and blue with massive oceans tormented by endless storms, appeared before Ada, immense and round. At that sight, Ada realized she would become a pilot, that she would have her own ship, and that she would never tire of seeing new planets. Sky, meanwhile, looked completely bored, casually chewing on a snack.
"It orbits Calchas, a classic yellow dwarf. A star. Now imagine you're on Calchas-3, and with a magic machine, you become the only thing no longer orbiting the star. What happens?"
"The planet moves away, and I stay behind."
"Yeah, if you're on the right side of it. You're sharp, aren't you? That's the principle of Interstellar Drift—or just Drift. You see these buttons numbered 1 through 6? Button 1 is when you want to stay still relative to the planet. It moves away without you. Button 2 is for the star. It doesn't look like it, but it's moving super fast. Two seconds in position 2, and you're already far away. If you miscalculate, you'll never be found. Button 3 is for the galaxy. Button 4 for the galactic cluster. Button 5 is for the supergalactic cluster. Button 6 is 'absolute.' That's the big one. Even includes the universe's expansion. They say a few days on 6, and you'll cross a galaxy."
"Have you ever tried it?"
"Plenty of idiots have. They were never seen again."
"So you just choose a force and activate it for a certain amount of time?"
"Yeah, at the right moment. That's why we have maps. Old-school maps."
He unfurled a paper map, which folded awkwardly at the edges. It had no scale, and the positions of the stars were symbolic. It showed Calchas, an arrow pointing to Verona, another from Verona to Prospero, and a third from Prospero back to Calchas. In handwritten letters, the map was labeled "Triangle of Fortune." Along each arrow, it listed:
DEPARTURE (with a time, e.g., 13:56:04)
MARGIN (a time tolerance, e.g., 1000 seconds)
FORCE (a number from 1 to 6)
DURATION (in seconds)
"You see, we're at Calchas. Let's say we want to go to Prospero. First, you see, we have to pass through Verona. Then, we wait for the specified time so that... well, the stars align. Then we use the required force and duration, and we're there."
"And the margin?"
"If we're a bit early or late, we can jump a little before or after. The farther we are from the ideal departure time, the farther we arrive from the system, and the risk increases. For big planets like Prospero, the routes are well-calculated, and we have margins of hours or even half-days. For Clelia, it's down to 10 seconds."
He folded the map.
"The Triangle's nice because there are multiple windows per day, but some destinations are a pain—only one window per week. For Clelia, your damned destination, it alternates between every four days and every seven days. Between that and the tight margin, it's a real backwater."
On the ancient terminal, he searched for Ariel as the destination and confirmed.
"It's about 10 minutes from now via Ariel. That's why that government bitch pissed me off, showing up at the last second. If we missed the window, I'd be stuck for a goddamn week longer on Calchas-3. A WEEK! She did it on purpose so we wouldn't have to talk about her pay."
"Who makes the maps? Are there cartographers?" (Ada could completely imagine herself as one.)"Give me two minutes, please."
He tapped on the Drift terminal. A countdown ticked its final seconds. When it hit zero, a soft hum sounded, and Calchas-3 vanished, perhaps to the side. The stars shifted in unison as if gusts of wind had swept the Nomad, spinning it.
Within two seconds, another planet appeared, immense, like a cosmic athlete had hurled it at full speed.
A vast green planet, without oceans but dotted with clouds, loomed large, eclipsing a yellow sun. As the darkness of the eclipse took hold, thousands—no, tens of thousands—of lights appeared in the void. Ships of all types and sizes. The radio burst to life with countless messages, and Sky immediately turned it off.
"Ariel, the Great Gate to the Beyond. It's from here that all the colonists depart to hundreds of virgin worlds... including Clelia. Alright, we're on time. I'm programming the Drift. The maps, you asked? I think at first, they sent out tons of probes with AIs on board. Now they have a planet—an artifact left by the Transients—called Leonardo. Basically, a giant computer. It's reserved for the Stellar Fleet, so no touching. But if you manage to find new routes, you could make a fortune, kid. Imagine a direct route between Prospero and Verona. That would be worth a fortune."
"Could you take me to see Leonardo?"
"Maybe one day... I'll give you a discount."
"How much does a ship like the Nomad cost?" Ada asked, watching all the ships entering and exiting Drift.
"Secondhand, like this one? I'd say 250,000 without the pod."
"Did you buy it?"
"No, I got it as a gift. A story you wouldn't believe, so there's no point in telling you."
"No, no, I want to hear it! I'll believe you."
Sky, of course, wanted to tell it.
"I was born and toiled like a damned soul on Escalus Prime. It's a city in the desert. Basically, it's an Endymion buried vertically in sand so fine it flows like water. Escalus Prime is a city for rich, old tourists who come to spend their money. There's gambling everywhere. You can experience all kinds of things condemned by most religions. The planetary prefect is a real bitch—rigid as hell, even though the city is anything but. Try to avoid it if you can. I'd inherited a taxi from my dad: I'd ferry the old folks to hotels or wherever. I was saving up, coin by coin, hoping to one day own a Raven and get out of there. I'd saved maybe 5,000. You can imagine the struggles, the moments of despair. There was extortion, violence—you name it.
Then one day, there's a crowd gathering near the prefect's palace, and people are whispering that a Transient is wandering about. So I park the taxi and head over. I saw the Transient.""What did it look like?""A big floating sphere with rings, but not complete ones. A kid started crying when they saw it, so it changed to look more human, but it was still too tall. It seemed kind, but there was no way not to be scared of it. People approached and asked questions. It answered, very kindly. I stepped forward and said, 'I'd like to have a Raven, if possible. And I promise to be a good person.' It told me to walk to the spaceport where a Raven named the Nomad would be waiting for me. And that's exactly what happened.
Can you imagine? I walked for kilometers through that goddamned sandblasted city, thinking I was crazy to believe some random Xeno. But when I got there, what was waiting for me like an angel sent to deliver me from hell? My beloved ship."
"The Transients can do anything, they say," Ada remarked, recalling the adventures of the sisters Aida and Yelena, who had Transient weapons.
"Yeah, yeah… in hindsight, I realized something. You see this Nomad? It belonged to someone, didn't it? I mean, when I got inside, it still smelled of food. I think the Transient gave something to that someone, and they left the Nomad behind. And I got it. And you know what? I left my taxi behind, because the Transient told me to walk to the spaceport. I'm sure some poor guy told the Transient, 'I'm broke, give me a job,' and it gave him my taxi.
I think the Transient knew all of our desires, everyone who came to see it, and it just redistributed things as best as possible. And that, Ada, is brilliant. I mean, you're a god; you can do anything, right? But doing it with minimal resources, making fools like me think, 'It was right there in front of me, and there was nothing else I could do,' that's way more impressive than any miracle."
He paused, and Ada's next question was swallowed by the transition into Drift.
The stars swirled again, and Clelia-2 appeared in the observation bay, orbiting a red star. A large green and blue planet, but with countless white peaks forming massive dunes on its surface. Water covered only a quarter of the planet, visible as large lakes.
Without delay, Sky fired the grapple toward a point he seemed to know instinctively. As the planet grew larger, he adjusted his aim with small bursts, fine-tuning the grapple. Nearing the atmosphere, which made the Raven's hull smoke, he turned the ship backward toward the planet and used the thrusters to brake.
Short bursts of the grapple followed as Sky tapped frantically toward one of the planet's moons, slowing the Nomad with precision.
"The less strain during descent, the less maintenance later," the pilot explained.
The ship dove toward the twilight edge of the globe, near a lake nestled between a green plain and towering snowy mountains. One final maneuver brought the ship upright, gravity returned, and Sky congratulated himself on the landing as he unbuckled Ada.
The air was delicately warm, streaked with threads of cold. Everything was dark and eerily silent. There were no trees, just the lake reflecting the moon and stars. In the distance, pale yellow lights scattered aimlessly, forming neither streets nor houses.
The Nomad's floodlights created a bright patch, and soon, a tall, stocky man approached Sky. Dressed in a simple tunic, bald, with sleepy eyes hidden beneath drooping brows, he embraced Sky like a bear.
The embrace was friendly, and they exchanged mysterious, almost mystical wishes: "May the Lord be with you, old friend,"
"May Fortune rain upon you, my good man." Sky introduced Ada to the bear of a man and the man to Ada: Adam Jespersen.
Her adoptive father. He seemed unsure how to react but was sincerely happy. He invited them to follow him. Carrying a blue LED lamp at his belt, Adam seemed like a will-o'-the-wisp leading the way down a muddy path.
They passed by what might have been a house and some containers.
A lamp lit a stack of five Raven pods haphazardly piled together. Access to the largest was via a few steps and a door decorated with a large painted flower.
It was the Jespersen family's home, and thus Ada's new house. As Sky and Ada sat around a large table and a plate was slid in front of her, the introductions began: Marie, Paul's wife, with gray hair braided into plaits and a face of great pallor. Japhet, the tallest son, around 16 or 17, with a silver tooth, unruly dark hair, and a bewildered expression. Paul Junior, younger, with a knife-cut haircut, a sullen demeanor of jealousy and a readiness to fight, and his father's heavy brows. And Ben, Ada's age, still full of energy and smiles, simply happy not to be the youngest anymore.
Whatever feelings were present on both sides, the introductions were warm, albeit tinged with polite caution. Marie ladled a white porridge with firmer cubes into the plates, and Paul had to restrain Ben, who was holding a fork, murmuring imperatively, "The prayer. What are we celebrating today?"
Ben stood and looked at a thick plastic almanac on a white shelf. "The CRISPR miracle?" he asked hesitantly. Paul sighed and asked the LE to recite the day's prayer for them. They joined hands—Sky did the same and motioned for Ada to follow. The LE, an old round terminal hidden on a library shelf, solemnly declared:
"Thank you, Lord, for this meal. Tonight, Lord, we thank you for inspiring human ingenuity with the technology of DNA modification, allowing us to extend our lives, conquer the diseases of mythical Earth and new worlds, and adapt to planets we would otherwise struggle to inhabit, so that your humble creation, O Lord, may carry the word of your love as far as possible."
Ben grabbed his spoon, and Paul smacked his hand before continuing:
"Thank you, Lord, also for Ada, a young girl whom our household welcomes today with all the love we can give her. Thank you for her kindness, for the faith she will find in You, Lord. Thank you for her arms that will work the land and feed us. Thank you for the stipend the Human Society will provide for her adoption, which will help us pay off our debt more quickly. Thank you for this child, for every child is a gift from heaven. Amen."
And with that, they all began eating, while Ada looked on wide-eyed at this mysterious ritual, which would soon become familiar to her. Conversations flowed freely during the meal, though some of the most important words were in technical jargon or a local dialect unknown to her.
Feeling lost, she was guided by Marie to her room: ladders and hatches in the containers led to individual rooms, each person having their own! Ada's room, however, was small compared to anything she had known: a bed, a seat, a window, a small table with a drawer, and a cupboard. Marie took care to check on her ward's mood, and Ada did her best to reassure her.
In truth, Ada didn't know what to think. The family was exhausted from their workday, while for her, it felt like midday. Through the window, stars glimmered both on the ground and in the sky. In the drawer, she found a photo of Pope Francis II and a Bible. No personal EV. The life of luxury—a prison's luxury—was over.
In the beginning, God created… As Ada's eyes closed, the Tower of Babel fell, and in the dream that followed, the great and strange tower—depicted in Bruegel's painting with its external staircase—collapsed like a chess piece, sank into the ground, and ended up buried upside down.
THE QUESTION OF THE DAY BY INGO IZAN
"Good day, everyone, and welcome to the Question of the Day! Today, I'm joined by Professor Aloysius from Lennox University, the only human university that welcomes Xenos. The question of the day, Aloysius, is: why aren't Xenos more present in human culture?"
"Xenos are present in human culture. On Prospero, there are millions. The real question is: why are there so few humans in Xeno worlds? Why is there such a lack of Xeno culture in human culture? Several factors come into play. First of all, let's be honest: we are not a species open to change. We accept Xeno ideas only when they align with our conservative instincts, offering security rather than progress or risk. The Emprise, for instance, quickly gained traction in humanity's elite circles, as Xeno's rejection of property—a concept derived from certain Antioch philosophers—sparks civil wars among us.
This resistance to change is amplified by what humanity has become as the fourth millennium approaches: a collective of individuals augmented by LEs. We delegate our knowledge, reflections, research, and decisions to AIs. But AIs are profoundly human in their structure, and they amplify who we are. For AIs, Xenos are an exhausting research topic—unfamiliar and unprofitable because Xenos are rarely inclined toward productivity. It's far more optimal for an AI to 'fix' humanity than to borrow from what works elsewhere. That said, the situation isn't hopeless: curious and open-minded individuals are born every day. I hear you can even find them in universities."
"And finally, Aloysius, which Xeno element do you think deserves a place in our culture?"
"Well, when we greet each other, we say good day,' which is factually inappropriate because, statistically, it's nighttime for half of your viewers when you say it. Xenos don't say Good day or 'hello.' They greet each other by saying, 'I love you.' I think adopting that would be pretty great."