“I don’t think she took me seriously. She called me her pretty little pagan,” Andy said hopefully. But these masters of industry never let an off chance go by.
We would not be the only ones to leave Earth.
The high-tech billionaire class had developed the means as well. In one case, spaceships that cost over two billion dollars to build exploded one after another as the developer got it right. They made no effort to collect these wrecks.
SIA salvaged the derelicts. Though we had no use for the limited human-made technology, the Mycelium processed them as she did all the other debris that littered the skies after half a century of space exploration and increasing dependence on satellites.
By the time we were ready to launch, they had a fleet ready to seek and develop the next Earth-like exoplanets. They had launched missions every year. We did not have access to what they had discovered.
They did not know about the Gate for a very long while.
However, private and humble though the leaders of SIA were, we did have a high up leak that meant the oligarchs had a question mark about the anomaly near Venus we called the Gate.
It was the nature of our disease to take some of us back into its arms.
As the 2020s progressed, an increasing number of Earth’s population became disillusioned with democracy and the slow process of change. They began to romance the strongman. Easy money too. They had the emotional vulnerability of shamed and yearning people.
It was my twin brother, Andarto, who slipped. At first, we noticed he had missed a few meetings.
“He has fallen in love,” Xan said, rolling her eyes and running her fingers through her red hair. We all knew she loved my brother. “Don’t worry. He’ll be back.”
But she looked pale, her eyes were shadowed.
Xan and Andy were fast friends, often seen laughing at some private joke in the corner of the room. Andy, flashing his green eyes and white teeth in his charming way, would say something wicked. Xan, staring down at her folded hands with laser seriousness, would lay out some chill sarcasm only he could hear.
I had seen Andy looking at her from the side as he laughed. I had seen him lean against her, as if in relief. She pretended not to notice.
I knew the anguish of unrequited love well.
“Who could ever hold a candle to you?!” I asked Xan kindly.
Andy and this rich white woman were seen all around town, dining about, holding hands.
“Andy, what are you, her arm candy?” I asked, seeing him dressed well beyond what he could afford. “Isn’t she a bit clingy for you?”
Not the best way to keep him close, I will admit. It was too late anyway. By then he was already compromised. In a moment of gratitude for her attention, he had spilled a piece of our plan, wanting his new love to join us.
“Fuck off Atty,” he had said. Ashamed at his betrayal, he would not engage with me from then on.
Months passed before we saw him sitting in the rooms again. Her summer fling was over; he was left broken and abandoned. Once her magnificent object, he was the green and gaunt shadow-eyed boy in the mix now.
Ugh relapse, we thought out loud to each other.
He came round, eating his caloric balance once more by all appearances. His eyes were clear. He had to make his amends.
“I don’t think she took me seriously. She called me her ‘pretty little pagan,’” Andy said hopefully. But these masters of industry never let an off chance go by.
So, we were not the only ones who knew about the Gate.
We accepted his amends. We brought him back into our circle. Xan kept a bit of distance.
But we all knew it could have been any one of us who slipped. Who were we to judge?
