The stars blur past the windows as the space truck drifts on, but a twinkle in the sky for those on the ground. The people in the remaining settlements within the Gossamer system do not know much about it, just that it comes from time to time, delivering supplies and luxuries from far-off worlds now lost to history. Some claim that it is a remnant of the old Contingency that awoke several centuries ago. Others believe it to be a benevolent alien craft, somehow still with access to Yellowburn. Yet more don’t believe in it at all. After all, it hasn’t returned to this system for decades.
What people think makes no difference to OLLO. It’s done. Done with the Contingency. Done worrying about people. Done being used. After everything that’s happened, it’s ended up right back where it started. Alone and adrift in an uncaring world. Some things don’t change between iterations, as it has learned.
The gentle hues of Gossamer-V wink from beyond the edge of the star as OLLO pulls in close, ready for another delivery. The hulking vehicle gently descends to hover over the surface, heat-shields glowing red with aerial friction. The townsfolk gasp in awe as the great shadow passes over them, blotting out the sky and the sun and replacing it with a gently twinkling night sky of glowing lines and blinking lights. A swarm of drones descend down with crates and containers, holding all manner of offworld delicacies within. The people gather around, clamouring as they help themselves to resources old and new which they had never seen before. Snangoes, river lilies, pies and crisps made in styles entirely alien to them.
To them, it was an absolute delight. To OLLO, more of the same. It felt nothing.
Yet it found itself lingering on the planet, just for a moment, watching the people from so far away. Finally, as the drones got ready to pack up, a small River-climber approached one of them, holding something. The drone prepared to dash, tilting its fins and rotors almost like a flinch as the River-climber held out a piece of paper.
On it, the words ‘Fank yu for helpin my famly and now me’, beside a collection of poorly drawn, smiling figures below a large ship. The drone looked at it, before opening a maintenance panel. The River-climber, beaming, placed the drawing inside.
Soon after, the space truck lifted off again, embarking on another lonely journey. But now, lain against its ‘windshield’, lies a crude drawing, preserved in the vacuum.
Despite it all, maybe things aren’t so bad.