Episode 10
Travelling Light E010S01 Transcript
H.R. Owen
Hello friends, Hero here once again to tell you about another fabulous podcast. Chaika is a science-fiction drama about a young woman who leaves the moon base where she was born, desperate to discover if she is, after all, the last remaining human. I've been binging Chaika all week and really enjoying it. It's so creative and characterful, and I highly recommend giving it a listen. They've just finished their second season so if you're a binge listener like me, there's plenty of episodes to get your teeth into. Stay tuned to the end of the credits to hear more.
[Title music: rhythmic electronic folk.]
H.R. Owen
Travelling Light: Episode Ten.
[The music fades out.]
The Traveller
5th Enu 850.
To the community at Emerraine who carry the light.
We had only one full day in Port Limanos – that is, the port through which we landed on Peteimos. I wish we could have stayed longer, it seems a fascinating place, and I have barely scratched the surface. I had just time enough to collect one more entry for the archives before we left, which I have, of course, attached. Then, we were off again, travelling west to our true destination.
It is rather a novelty, to travel in the Tola while still in the planet's atmosphere. The only other time we have done so was on Varriel, to watch the bioluminescence before we left.
I spent much of today's journey sitting with Annaliese in the observation deck. The room is flanked by two bulging, eye-like windows which offered spectacular views of the landscape below.
It took us some time to travel past Port Limanos and its extensive suburbs – not that they looked much like the suburbs of Port Taroth. The land was clustered thickly with trees, which were in turn clustered with homes and shops for the many avian species who live in that region.
Sensibly I know the population density was likely comparable to that of Port Taroth. But it is a very different thing, to see sweeping canopies and jumbled root systems in the place of roof-tops and transport lines.
It made me… strangely homesick. I have found no rule or reason to what brings on these pangs. It seems as likely to be triggered by the strange as the familiar.
I see a person dressed in a style that reminds me of the robes worn by the weavers' guild in Emerraine, and I am homesick. Then I eat something that is unlike anything I have ever tasted before, to which I have no point of comparison… and I am homesick. [laughs weakly]
[sighing] I miss Emerrainian bread. As if there is no such bread in all the wide, wild galaxy! As if nobody else has ever thought to fold the dough just so, to press it flat against itself so it bakes in soft, stretching layers. As if no other bread has that slight resistance as you pull it tight between your teeth… [sighs]
But I am getting carried away. [clears throat] We left the suburbs behind soon enough, and broke out into open countryside. This part of Peteimos is rather wet and mountainous, with flourishes of green in the lowlands between the peaks.
The Tola set down at last in a very isolated spot, settling herself upon a tiny, somewhat overgrown landing pad outside a settlement called Komi, which the locals insist is – technically – a town and not a village.
I believe the distinction rests on the presence of both the landing pad and a communications relay. But, given that the relay office doubles as the local tavern, I am not sure I find the claim entirely convincing.
But regardless of how unassuming it may see, we are nonetheless scheduled to remain in Komi for some days. There is an archaeological site nearby that is of particular interest to Doctor Tsabec, and I believe Doctor Duytren has some research she wishes to conduct regarding the region's textile traditions.
There is a jolliness in the air aboard the ship, as if knowing we are not travelling on for a little while has put everyone into a holiday mood. Hesje has arranged for us all to eat together tonight not in the refectory, as we are accustomed, but at the aforementioned tavern.
I think I shall knock on for Óli, and twist their arm into joining us tonight. It is altogether unconscionable that they should miss it and I will not stand for it, not matter how much they protest!
I shall take this letter with me – since the relay station is so very handy – and send it on tonight. And please, if you can? Treat yourself to some fresh bread for me.
[The click of a data stick being inserted into a drive that whirs as it reads]
The Traveller
Entry EN85006-2: An account of a conversation with an n'Golka woman with a passion for paper folding, collected in Port Limanos.
Key words: arts and crafts; n'Golka; paper crafts; Peteimos; Port Limanos
Notes:
Our departure for Komi was not until the late afternoon, so I ventured out into Port Limanos as soon as I had breakfasted. I had been altogether too cooped up for far too long to miss any chance at stretching my legs, and besides, I wanted to take some time for myself before we journeyed on.
I walked with no real purpose, enjoying the sights and sounds of the city. My feet carried me in time to a café where I ordered a cup of tea (though it was not quite like anything I would have called tea) and a pastry to keep my company while I watched the world go by.
After a while, my attention was drawn to a woman sitting alone a few tables over. At least, she was alone when I arrived. I watched a steady stream of people come in to sit with her, each staying a little while and chatting with her quite happily before going on their way.
What struck me was that none of the visitors seemed to have come into the café with the intention of meeting her. All were surprised to see her, excited to have a chance to catch a few minutes of her time.
And her guests ran the gamut of local people, covering a dizzying range of species, cultures, genders, and ages. She greeted each one in turn, welcoming them into her presence and encouraging them to sit and take some tea with her.
Some, she laughed and joked with. Some, she entertained with ribald stories that I confess, I felt my ears turn pink to hear. Yet others, she sat with quietly, listening close as they shared their burdens. She was everything to these people – mother, lover, friend, confidant, confessor.
As she sat there, her six hands moved about her. Some gestured this or that, others lifted tea and cake to her mouth. But all the while, at least one pair of hands remained busy at the table, folding paper into ornate shapes and figures.
Whenever the conversation ended, she would hand her erstwhile companion the paper figure she'd made while they were speaking – a souvenir of their time together.
After watching several these encounters in turn, she caught my eye. I suppose it was only a matter of time. I had been… staring, a little.
“You are new,” she said.
I did not know what to say. I cannot describe it. She looked at me and… [laughs, then sighs]
She was not a very striking-looking woman. I-I mean no offence by this! As I said, she was an n'Golka, an older woman, and there was nothing in particular about her looks or her clothes to draw the eye.
But when she looked at me, I blushed hot and pink like the captain of the school ruyfo team had suddenly called me by my name!
“I-I am sorry,” I said. “I-I-I did not mean to intrude.”
“It is no intrusion,” she said, with that same, strange magnetism. “Come. Sit with me a while.”
Just as with all her previous guests, she seemed to know what it was I wanted from her. She told me her story.
Her name was Agarta, and she had been born and raised in Port Limanos. She told me about her life, first her childhood, then her time as a sex worker, and finally her later years working in the local hospitals, speaking on behalf of the health and interests of many species, drawing on her experience in the sex industry to do so.
And she told me that, after so long in the city, she had become rather well known. She had a reputation – she said this with no hint of arrogance, only the simplicity of truth – a reputation for being excellent company.
“That is a reputation well-earned,” I said.
Agarta laughed. “You are very sweet,” she told me, and I blushed all over again. “I give them what I can,” she said simply. “A little time, a little attention.”
“And the figures?” I asked. She had been folding one while we spoke, and I had not quite dared to bring attention to it. But Agarta only smiled.
“They keep my mind sharp,” she said, “and give me something to do. They've become something of a calling card. Most of the people who come to me these days know me only by reputation. They see me making my figures, and they realise who I am. And then, they join me for a while.”
“They are very beautiful,” I said, quite sincerely.
The café owner, clearing the next table over, laughed. “They're good luck, too,” he said, nodding at the shelf above the till where a row of little paper figures stood. “I keep trying to get her to leave me some more, but she's insistent on giving them away.”
“You already have more luck than you deserve, Korva Lalos,” Agarta said, her hands working all the while. He laughed at this private joke, and turned back to his work.
I could feel that my time with Agarta was coming to an end. I wanted to say something, something clever or profound. Something to tell her what a strange and wonderful encounter this had been.
But before I could, she made a final fold in the paper she was holding, and took my hands in two of hers. She held them a while, looking into my eyes as if there was only me and her in all the world.
“Travel well, my darling,” she told me. “And take care of that big, open heart of yours.”
And she pressed the little paper figure into my hand, and let me go.
[Title music: rhythmic instrumental folk. It plays throughout the closing credits.]
H.R. Owen
Travelling Light was created by H.R. Owen and Matt McDyre, and is a Monstrous Productions podcast. This episode was written and performed by H.R. Owen.
This week’s entry to the archives was based on an idea by Resfeber, with accompanying artwork available on our social media accounts.
If you've got an idea for an archive entry, we want to hear it. You can send us anything from a one line prompt to a fully written entry through our website, by email, or on social media. For more information, see the show notes.
If you want to support Travelling Light, please consider leaving a review on your podcast platform of choice. You can also make a one-off donation or sign up for a monthly subscription at ko-fi.com/monstrousproductions.
Supporters will receive bonus artwork and additional content, the ability to vote on audience decisions, and an invitation to the Monstrous Productions Discord server.
This podcast is distributed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. The theme tune is by Vinca.
[Fade to silence]
Chaika Season 2 Trailer: So I Really Am Alone
[Music – Chaika’s theme by Chris Gregory]
CHAIKA
I must be on Mars. We were starting descent-
HYGGE! LEQU! Are you there?
NARRATOR
Chaika. A science fiction audio drama. Season 2.
CHAIKA
So I really am alone.
[music]
COMMANDER
Back to what happened, prisoner.
CHAIKA
You don’t know what happened on earth?
[UYUT entry beep.]
UYUT
As you probably know, Mars broke contact with TellUs G-gov many sols ago.
CHAIKA
Earth went silent the year I turned eight, and we haven’t heard anything from there since.
COMMANDER
I have better things to do than listen to these fairy tales.
CHAIKA
Can you for one moment imagine that I am exactly what I tell you I am? What would it take for you to believe that?
SECOND
If your story was a bit more plausible, that’d help.
[beat]
[COMODO entry beep.]
COMODO
Loyalty can stretch many ways. Seems like you are quite adept at keeping secrets yourself.
CHAIKA
If needed, yes.
[beat]
NARRATOR
Chaika. Season 2. For more information, please visit y2kpod.com/chaika, that’s C H A I K A.
[beat]
CHAIKA
I thought I wouldn’t feel alone any more once I got here, once I connected with some humans, but… I feel *more* alone. I… I only had my mom, and then HYGGE and LEQU, and I never… I never questioned if I could trust them. Took me a while to consider them friends, but… Now? …now I have no-one.
(Fade out.)
--END TRANSCRIPT--
