The Falling Sky

She was intrepid. Brave, courageous, bold. She said what she needed to with the just right amount of finesse so people understood her, but weren’t insulted by the message. She knew how to be assertive without aggression. There was a certain thing about her that made others want to be near her and no one ever wondered where she was coming from because she was the right amount of open book without being obnoxious. People looked to her for leadership and she always knew just what to do to lead. She was intrepid. In her mind, at night, right before she went to bed, her words were perfect. At 3:00 in the morning, when she woke suddenly from another anxiety ridden dream, her section gone wild. Even then – she was perfect. The rest of the time she was loud, but shy. No one really knew her for who she truly was and her best friend regularly reminded her that she was hard to get to know. She was like an onion, you learned one layer at a time, none of them the same and some of the layers could make you cry. She did have that something that made others want to be near her though. A long-time friend of hers called it her “magic”. It was what made her a great facilitator. It was also what made her able to switch gears quickly in social situations. This girl had friends in spades. She had relationships from every part of her life and most of the people felt like they were the most important friend she had. And they were important, but maybe not as aware of who she was as she was aware of them. She was a chameleon. She wished that she could be as intrepid in her real life as she was in her head. She also hated how she looked naked. Just like the rest of the planet. CONGRATULATORY (1993) In 1993 an international group of scientists, confirmed the intuitions of the majority of science fiction writers by showing that teleportation was indeed possible, but only if the original photon was destroyed in the process. In the years that followed, many others demonstrated similar results. The potential of teleportation seemed to be the ability to send information over long ranges, thus eventually facilitating quantum communication. These results showed that the idea of a quantum computer, one which uses light to send vast amounts of information, was possible. At this time, people were warned not to expect teleportation to work as they had seen on popular television shows like Star Trek. No one expected to be able to send people or other large living objects through space to another location in the foreseeable future. The complete destruction of the original and the idea that perhaps people were more than just a chemically constituted organism being the major deterrents. People had memories, experiences and perhaps a soul to factor into the teleportation equation. Everyone had seen the Cronenburg movie about the man mixed with a housefly. Who would be the first person to elect to undergo such a radical process? One would need to be mentally unstable to volunteer to be teleported, right? APPREHENSIVE (2060) Lucy Sky woke up extremely early, as per usual. Her pet tabby was doing the tango on her liver. The dancing was a little thing, but it made it hard to sleep. “Get up, get up, get up,” the cat’s pointed legs cleaving her abdomen. “Cripes cat, get off,” she grumbled as she tried to push her off the bed and go back to sleep. Daisy was having no part of that. The cat was the size of a small tank and could hold on better than was reasonable for something that wasn’t a primate. “Fine, let’s go.” Lucy shuffled out of bed, sliding slowly to the bathroom. Beginning to think about the day, she cringed. This was the worst type of day. External review night. She had a day of facilitating to look forward to - the kids, who normally were entertaining and enjoyable, would be cranky and edgy – all because they were worried, just like she was, about how the night would go. She was a facilitator in an academy home, her section was usually quite enjoyable - but not on external review night. The reviewers came, at least one for each child on this evening every year and reviewed the personal case of their charge. On this night there was always someone for whom everything seemed to be going well and then - BLAMO, the review bombs and Lucy ends the night feeling like she was the last half rack of ribs in a southern Texas restaurant. They smile as they rip her apart and spit out the bones. She fed the cat, showered, and dried her hair. Walking into her closet, she sighed. Most of the time she loved her clothes, but not on days like this. It was going to be a long day and she needed to look good the entire time. Not for the first time did she wish that she was smaller and more fit. Knowing that most of the earth’s female population felt the same way didn’t really help: in fact, it pissed her off. She hadn’t been genetically blessed in that department at all. Her family heritage was Celtic. So basically, the survival of the fittest in potato-famine terms meant that she had the genetic metabolism legacy of a rickety, half-dead goat. Her ancestors had conquered starvation through the gift of a high BMI. Apparently she was ready for the next famine at any time. Lucy knew she was cute. In fact she never worried about her nose or any other of her features. She honestly thought that if she were skinnier she would be gorgeous. Alas, her rear. And her all over… Back to the closet. What is going to make me look professional, keep me comfortable for thirteen hours and still look semi-decent by the end of the day? She stared at the clothes. They didn’t have anything to say. She put on pants, a sweater and a jacket. There wasn’t time to mull over something more exciting. Maybe someday she would find the holy grail of self-control, stop eating too much, be excited to run around in circles and eventually have a more thrilling time choosing her clothing. Or maybe I should just be happy with who I am. Easier said than done. She hated those people that said things like, “a minute on the lips and a lifetime on the hips,” or better yet, “nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.” Surely to Jesus these people could think of something smarter to say and realize that even if some people exercise three to four times a week and eat like saints, they are still going to be in the double-digit size department. I need to do something about this. Again. Sighing she leaves the house. It was going to be a long day.