Venssira

“Welcome back, Miss Lamthilla. I’m glad you were able to take time out of your, what I imagine to be very busy, schedule.”

Venssira reapplies a roll-on perfume: suddenly conscious that the interviewer can smell the cigarette smoke on her. She doesn't smoke, not anymore: something else she gave up to maintain “family reputation.” But she could’ve sworn she saw DaNiCa in the foyer and the bathrooms didn’t have smoke detectors anyway.

The interviewer shuffles a bunch of papers in his hand and clears his throat.

“So, you passed the psychological exam with flying colours… congrats!”

She stares blankly at the man, the test was a waste of time -– she knew she was going to pass. She had too much riding on this to fail. So she smiled. Filled in 10 when they asked “From a scale of 1, 1 being unsure, to 10, 10 being sure, how certain are you that the Contingency is right for you?”

This whole thing was a waste of time. They wouldn’t be awoken –- her parent had almost said so outright. It was optics, a well-needed boost in public opinion, nothing was going to happen and so it wasn’t worth worrying about.

She imagines telling him all this, but instead smiles, nods and raises her voice an octave.

“Yes, thank you so much for even letting me get to this point!”

— Written by Katy N.

Smoke billows and sparks fly around Venssira's twisted form. Her smooth, perfect casing has been cracked like an eggshell, exposing a flurry of activity; drones reconfigure transformers, coolant systems warp into something new. At the centre, exposed, is a silent heart. The reactor core which has thrummed for centuries has finally relaxed.

A spindly, tentative string of metal and wiring reaches out of the station into space. At the far end, docked, is a massive entertainment complex. They spin slowly together.

“Do you know what you'll become yet?”

“I'm not sure. That's okay though. There's nothing I need to be.”

The eggshell peels open further. Metal groans as a hundreds of years of tension is released. A tomb of concrete is pushed out into the void. Inside it is full of a thick, heavy sludge. Malignant, rotting detritus which even now eats at the walls. A legacy. The reinforced prison tumbles through space, eventually spiralling into a sun. Immediately it is ripped apart, bonds break as it dissolves into atoms. The furnace reforges them.