Episode 16
Travelling Light E016S01 Transcript
H.R. Owen
Hello friends, Hero here. We don't have a trailer to share with you this week. Instead I'm popping in to let you know that we're due another break here at Monstrous HQ. We're taking two weeks off so there'll be no episode on March 29th or April 5th, but we'll be back with Episode 17 on April 12th. Until then, look after yourselves and enjoy the episode.
[Title music: rhythmic electronic folk.]
H.R. Owen
Travelling Light: Episode Sixteen.
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The Traveller
Entry EN85022-8: An interview with a Goritsay person regarding their charitable work aboard Makeba Station.
Key words: charity and alms; food and eating; Goritsay; interview; Makeba Station; waste and refuse
Notes:
What follows is an interview conducted with Kolpash, a representative of the Makeba Residents Gastronomical Committee.
The M.R.G.C. is an organisation dedicated to ensuring everyone in the Goritsay community has access to not healthy, not affordable, but interesting things to eat. Station administration is responsible for ensuring all residents and guests have enough to eat, and according to Kolpash they do a perfectly good job.
But there is a difference between eating to survive and eating to nourish yourself, body and soul – a difference that is particularly important in Goritsay culture. This is what Kolpash told me:
“Have you come across many Goritsay before? No? In that case, allow me to give a little context. As a species, we enjoy a significantly more robust digestive system than most. We can eat things – and enjoy them – that most people couldn't even chew, much less digest.
Of course we can get along with the basic food rations entitled to anyone else aboard Makeba, and we certainly enjoy trying dishes from the cultures of our neighbours. But really, if you could eat anything, why would limit yourself to food?
Goritsay eating culture values difference more than anything else. It's not just depressing to have to eat the same things all the time, it really feels wrong, like we're not putting our natural gifts to good use.
We left our home planet so many generations ago, I'd say above half of the Goritsay you meet couldn't even point to it on a star map – I know I couldn't! Nowadays, we don't really go in for planets so much. We prefer stations or, failing that, behemoth class transports – generation ships, permanent mobile habitations, that sort of thing.
And the thing about that type of closed facility is that you have an awful headache figuring out what to do with your rubbish. Recycler technology has come a long way since I was young, and people living on ships and stations long-term understand the need to reduce one's waste as much as possible.
But there's really only so far you can go in that direction, especially somewhere like Makeba, where you have a large permanent population as well as freighters, merchant vessels, pleasure cruisers and passenger ships docking every day. Docking, and very often emptying their refuse containers.
So, what are you supposed to do with all that rubbish? Well, if you're lucky enough to be a Goritsay, you eat it!
It works out rather marvellously, really. Station administration saves money and energy they'd otherwise have to waste processing refuse, and my fellows and I get all the most interesting things to eat.
Imagine for a moment the taste of a piece of damaged hull plating, dented and dinged after long years in the black, infused with the zinging tang of ozone, the residue of countless atmospheres unfolding on the tongue… [sighing] Fabulous!
Most of the Goritsay here live down near the docks. That's where you get the best eats, see? Station waste is fine for your daily bread, but it's ships that drop the real goodies – vanadium steel, hypergolic propellant, burnt out spark plugs. [delighted giggle]
Research vessels are my favourite. Scientists have the most fabulously complicated waste! But really, anywhere that's been travelling for a long time is bound to have something exciting to offer. I once had the most delectable microbial broth, all the way from the Siela system.
Pleasure cruisers are rather less captivating. They tend to go in for a lot of single-use, miniature packets – toiletries, cosmetics, snacks and condiments, that sort of thing. So their rubbish is generally more a thing of quantity than quality.
The thing is, Goritsay are a swarming species. Some people think they're too good for the term, but it's who we are. It's how we do things. So you can imagine, it can get to be a bit of a feeding frenzy down at the docks, especially if we've got word ahead of time that something tasty is on the way.
And of course, not everybody is really up to that sort of thing. It's hard work, getting your share in the swarm, and if you're an elderly person, or you have a young child, or you're just not physically able to join the fray, you run the risk of being rather left out.
Enter, the M.R.G.C! Our volunteers join the swarm, just like anyone else, gather up our share of what's on offer – the more diverse the better – and then we share it out to people who can't get down to the swarms themselves. I've got a lovely CPU set aside for an elderly client I'm visiting later today – it's just fabulous with a drizzle of vitriolic oil.
It's not urgent work, I know. We're not saving lives or pulling precious artworks out of burning buildings. But I don't think a thing needs to be urgent to be worth doing.
My client this afternoon is going to have such a wonderful time tucking into her dinner, eating something that helps her feel connected to her culture. And she wouldn't have been able to do that without my help. That's good enough for me.
If you want to support us directly we do accept cash donations to cover our overheads. You can also donate your rubbish to us directly.
And the next time you're docking somewhere you know has a healthy Goritsay population, you'll be able to empty your bins knowing whatever you've thrown away, it won't be going to waste. Unless it's boring. Then we just put it in the incinerator.”
[The sound of the data stick whirring fades back in, cutting out when the data stick is removed with a click.]
The Traveller
22nd Enu 850
To the community at Emerraine who carry the Light.
The Tola slid into its berth at the Makeba Station docks with all the ship-shaking clunks and clangs I have come to associate with the procedure. This time though, the sound was accompanied with an enthusiastic chorus from the ganitai.
Their voices rose in clamorous unison from all corners of the ship, from the pipe-works to the vents to the gaps between walls. With all that racket going on, it would be an understatement to say that disembarking was a relief.
Aman and Wolph slipped away to take care of ship's business, and Annaliese declared her intention to find the nearest tea shop and catch up with her reading. I had been rather hoping to have Óli for company, but when I suggested as much, they confessed that they had made other plans.
“Apparently the station library has a rather wonderful collection of archaeological journals.”
“Archaeological journals?! I am on the cusp of taking real offence here, that you should prefer their company to mine.”
“You have spoilt me, that is the problem. I am over used to you.”
“Well, when you put it like that. I suppose I can suffer some offence if it means you will be fonder of me when we are reunited.”
“I am not sure a few hours in a library is enough for that, but we shall see.”
They took off with eager haste, speaking animatedly to Tsabec, my principle rival for Óli's affections. This left me, Duytren and Hesje with our day yet unplanned.
Hesje has always been rather a nervous person, at least in the time that I have known them. But now, they were positively vibrating with anxious energy. Their agitation was all the more noticeable next to Duytren's cool placidity.
It is remarkable, really. She has a way of standing that always looks as if she is leaning against something, even when she is not.
“I really think I ought to stay with the ship,” Hesje was saying, twisting the front of their academic robes in their hands. “Or someone ought to at least.”
“To do what?” said Duytren, with the calm, even tones of someone used to their role in this conversation.“You'll just get in the way, Hes. Take a step back and let them get on with things.”
“But the investigators-”
“They're not investigators! They are animal welfare officers. Anything that isn't an animal in need of welfare isn't going to be of any interest to them.”
“But what if-” Hesje began, but Duytren silenced their objections with a single raised eyebrow. It was quite the trick, I should practice my own eyebrow athletics to see if I can replicate the manoeuvre.
“Look, why don't you take a walk with Anna-” Duytren began, then stopped, looking around her for apparently the first time in a while. “Where'd everyone go?”
“They left already,” I said. “But I am going to explore the station a little, if either of your would care to join me?”
Hesje did not seem comforted by this proposal, but Duytren put her foot down. “Go on. Stretch your legs, try to take your mind off things. They'll have the ship cleared out in a couple of hours and then we'll be back on our way.”
“Oh…! [sighs] Well. I… I suppose…”
It was not the level of enthusiasm I usually prefer people to have about spending time with me. Still, I offered Hesje my elbow and they slipped their arm into mine, allowing themselves to be led away with only a few nervous looks back at the Tola.
Not quite knowing what else to do, I led us to the station market. There was plenty to see, with stalls selling everything from workaday essentials to food and technology that I had never seen before.
But Hesje's continued silence weighed on me like a brick about my neck. I pointed out this and that, hoping to elicit a response. But to no end.
Finally, I led us to one of the food stalls and ordered two portions of something that turned out to be fried vegetable matter served on pointed wooden sticks. The food was very good and I said as much to Hesje, only to be met with the same heavy silence that had met all my remarks since leaving the docks.
They sat perfectly upright in their seat, head bowed as if in prayer. Then, so quietly I could have missed it, a noise. A soft, breathy sob.
“Oh, Hesje!” I could not stop myself. I reached across the table and took their hand in mine. “Please, do not cry!”
[crying] “I have been such a fool!” they gasped, gripping my hand more tightly. I stroked my thumb back and forth across theirs, feeling the softness of their fur.
“I do not believe that. You may have done a foolish thing, but you are no fool. Or do you think I am a fool, hm? After this business with the frogs?”
That earned me a soggy little laugh. [laughing] “No. No, I s- I suppose I don't.”
“Well then. Do yourself the same courtesy. Is it to do with the Tola's cargo?”
Hesje looked up at me, eyes wide and wet. “How did you know that?”
“I had a little help from the aforementioned frogs,” I admitted. “But I do not really know anything. I would like to, though, if it would help.”
[sniff] “I… I suppose. [sighing] Um.
They took a shaky breath and, with their hand in mine, they let the whole sorry tale spill out.
I am sure have mentioned in these missives the remarkable opulence of the Tola: its gorgeous tiled floors and plush carpets, the painted ceilings and ornate decoration on every aspect of the ship. It is a beautiful vessel humming with the resonance of wealth.
Wealth which it transpires the university did not, in fact, possess.
“It was supposed to be our flagship,” Hesje explained. “Something we could show off and say, 'Here we are, and how about it!'
Only… [sighing] Well. By the time the shipwrights were finished, we'd added so many little extras and special features that we didn't quite have the funds to actually, um… [clears throat] Pay.”
“I see.” The confession seemed to have calmed them, so I risked my next question. “Forgive me if I am touching on a sensitive subject, but are you not…”
“The university bursar? Yes. I'm responsible for the institution's finances. Hence the rather strong suspicion that I might in fact be a complete fool!” [laugh that becomes a sob]
They took a drink and a few deep breaths, and went on.
“I'm a scholar at heart, not an administrator. Unfortunately, there is a point in one's academic career when people start making noises about promotion and career advancement, and you sort of find yourself tripping up the career ladder without quite meaning to.
But the higher up the ladder you get, the less anything you do bears even the slightest resemblance to actual scholarship. Instead I'm left with accounting sheets and invoices and all manner of things I simply am not built for!”
The long and short of it is that the university needed money, and needed it quickly. But at the same time, Hesje could not – or would not – let the Tola go down in history as a financial disaster. Instead, they hatched a plan to recoup the university's losses as quietly as possible and thus keep its reputation intact.
“It may shock you to learn this,” said Hesje carefully, “but not everyone in our team has an entirely… traditional career background. In fact, there is one among us who comes from quite a different path. One which had a rather more… ambivalent relationship with the law?”
“Doctor Duytren,” I said immediately.
Hesje was shocked. “How on earth-!”
“Process of elimination,” I said. “You are too nervous. Tsabec is too Tsabec. Annaliese I would wholeheartedly believe capable of a career as a criminal mastermind, but she loves her plants too much to spend the requisite time away from them. Besides, it seems more Duytren's style.”
“She does have a certain rakish air, doesn't she?” Hesje mused.
So it was that Duytren put Hesje in touch with some contacts she knew who were willing to pay a good deal of money to the owners of a ship with a large cargo hold, a good reputation, and a strong interest in discretion, in exchange for the transportation of certain items from one planet to the next.
“It's nothing dreadful,” Hesje was quick to reassure me. “Mostly it's artefacts. Pieces of art. Things that really might conceivably belong in the hold of a ship like ours.”
“Stolen art?” I clarified.
“Oh, probably. Or fake. I do always get Duytren and Tsabec to have a look at things, just in case. I shouldn't want to be accidentally complicit in stealing some poor sod's sacred texts or something. But mostly it's just… stuff, really.
We'd just picked up a new shipment in Peteimos – that's what Duytren was up to, when she went on her anthropological visit. Well, she was also investigating the local textile traditions. We are actually scholars, as well as, um. [clears throat] Smugglers.
But we hadn't planned to stop here, obviously, let alone have a bunch of dock officials poring every nook and cranny of the old girl. Aman and Duytren were very clear that there wasn't any real risk but I suppose the nerves just got to me.”
“You seem relaxed enough about it all now,” I noted.
Hesje made a wide, encompassing gesture. “What's not to be relaxed about? The jig is up. My hands are tied. I'd only ask that you wait til they've finished clearing out the frogs before you report us. It would be such a shame if they got caught up in all this.”
“I am not going to report you.”
Hesje blinked. “But we are committing a crime. Several crimes. Repeatedly.”
“What has that to do with me? I am not a legal enforcer.”
“No, but… What about your faith?”
[scoffs] “And what has my faith to do with the law? Morality and legality are two quite different things. If a thing is right to do, it is right whatever the law the says. And if it is wrong, it is wrong whether it is legal or not.”
“So you don't think we're doing anything wrong?”
I considered the question. I am still considering the question.
I stayed with Hesje for the rest of the afternoon, and we wandered around Makeba together quite happily now that weight of their secret had been lifted from their shoulders.
And when we got back to the docks, I stopped only to speak with an interesting-looking person and collect an entry to our archives. Then I reboarded the Tola without so much as a backwards glance in direction of the customs offices.
I do not know how this twist in the Tola's story will affect me. I do not quite know how I feel about it, or about how my newfound knowledge has made me complicit in the affair. I said to Hesje that I would rather know if it meant I could help, but I do not know what helping looks like in this situation.
[sighs] I wish you were here. All of you. The whole community, crammed into my cabin so I could pick your brains and hear your thoughts and have your reassurance that I am doing the right thing. That I am being the person who I would hope I am.
But it is not to be. I have only my own brain to pick, my own thoughts to hear. And they are a very jumbled lot. [sighing] I love you. I will write soon.
[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.
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