Sample from my edgy, space scifi work in progress "The Darkness of Space"...
Forty two earthturns I’ve lived in the darkness of Bara’nin. No sunlight, and barely any overhead. Over time, the darkness permeates your soul. Skin misses the sun. Eyes lose their color, dulling like the gray and black of the coal mined on the outreaches of the colony. Even artificial light is limited, as they limit everything else to conserve energy.
I don’t mind the dark. I’ve come here to hide. Let the shadows claim me. Nothing else in my life has. The dreary and lonesome evernight of Bara’nin is a cold, consistent solace. With my black leather outfit, dark hair and gray makeup, I fit in with this place.
The market is the best-lit place of the colony. Better for selling wares. I sit beside my small display of perfumes and trinkets. Though the busy market makes me nervous, the dark, I need the fare to pay for the rent.
Such is the life of a vagrant. Take what you can, live where you can, sell what you can. The comforts of life – and light – belong to richer men.
I dot a grain-sized drop of anratha oil onto my wrist and smell deeply its flowery, rich scent. It relieves me a moment from the stagnant air of the market.
Everything is stagnant here. The air, the water, the food. Barely recycled to be considered edible, drinkable, breathable. No communication or entertainment devices are in use. The charge is too precious. Only devices that can be powered by coal, steam powered vehicles and factories rumble mostly in the lower levels.
My perfumes come from the land of light. Seventh Province, on the second planet from Solial Dosis, I’ve only been able to afford to travel there once.
The entire planet was covered with life. Trees taller than any building, plants so abundant they drape every street. And the waterfalls... 1.6 oscillations was all I could afford to view them. The rich lived in apartments gazing out upon the magnificent sight for every earthturn of their lives, and I was only allowed a few moments.
Still, having solid rock beneath me is better than spacedrifting. Being cold and half-blind is better than the feeling of losing yourself in the vacuum, nothingness of the expanse. Men go mad, steer their ships into the pits of darkness between distant stars, trying to reach a place with no more light. And if they are ever rescued, they cannot speak, cannot close their eyes, a reflection of the endless black stained upon them.
An older couple, gleaming with a touch of space madness, approach my display. I avert my eyes as they finger through the brass trinkets. I made them mostly from discards, with a few glass stones that add a pail pink or blue among the golden brown.
They move on without a word. Few vagrants have extra credits to spend on non-essentials. The few that do, that care to spend, will cover my rent for several lunars.
But the market is slow today. Few new transports, just mostly local dealers and miners mulling about. It has been a slow, long earthturn. I stand to relieve the ache in my legs.
A few vendors here actually have some rare items. Preserved tiltilly fungus, that glows purple if heated. Charred pieces of the wrecked Final Seal Star Dock, which are illegal to sell in some quadrants. And wextin crystals, created from the birth of a nebula.
Nothing I can afford. The other vendors know me well enough they give half-greetings as I pass, but still cast me a wary eye. They know I only will look, not buy.
Stop by for more updates. This is a work in progress!
