Episode 33
Travelling Light E033S01 Transcript
[Title music: rhythmic electronic folk.]
H.R. Owen
Travelling Light: Episode Thirty Three.
[The music fades out.]
The Traveller
2nd Herach 850, continued.
I am afraid my memory of what came next is rather blurred. There was a good deal of shouting, accusations and defences, and eventually Scarry and Aman's voices rising above the others, barking orders to organise a search.
Mostly, though, I remember the curtains. There was breeze drifting in through the open window, and the curtains swayed back and forth in the warm air as if they breathing.
Suddenly, a hand on my arm. Duytren, looking at me with a fierce light in her eyes. “It's alright,” she said. “They can't have gone far.”
The search took all afternoon. I would not have thought Sulka was big enough to warrant it. I suppose we all had good reason to want to be thorough.
But there was no sign of Óli to be found, not in the streets, in the marketplace or the park, in the transport terminal or down by the lakeside. Eventually, we reconvened at the lodging house.
The room was not quite large enough for all of us, which did have its benefits. It was hard to mind the poisonous looks thrown our way by the Guillemot crew when they were coming from all four of them squashed up together on the same sofa.
Scarry remained standing, as did Aman. For my part, I propped myself up against a wall, glad for its support but too restless to be seated.
“The authorities could help widen the search,” said one of Scarry's crew.
“Oh, good thinking, Masha,” said the person Scarry had called Oyan. “And when they ask what we were meeting for, what then? Shall we just tell them about the smuggling outright, or wait for them to find it out by themselves?”
“Besides, Óli's an adult,” Tsabec put in. “They left of their own accord. I'm not sure there's much the authorities can do.”
The room sank into a begrudging silence at that very good point.
“We could wait here,” Aman offered. “Perhaps they'll come back.”
Scarry shot her a doubtful look. “Do you think that likely?”
Aman looked at me to answer. I suppose I had spent the most time with Óli and might me a better judge of their character. I considered, as honestly as I could.
I thought of Óli's horror at my suggestion they might return with Scarry and make the best of things. The firm set of their shoulders as they walked away, likely already planning their escape. The proud, determined angle of their jaw.
And… [sighs] I do not mean this unkindly. But I thought of their tendency to consider themselves before others, a habit of expecting the world to bend to their desires.
I did not to think of how charming I had found these occasional bouts of ego. [laughs softly]
“No,” I said finally. “No, I do not think they have any intention of returning.”
Aman's shoulders slumped in defeat.
“Captain Scarry,” I began. “I understand that we made a deal. That we agreed your payment for the sale would be security against- Uh. Well. Against exactly this. But our situation is- That is- If-if we could only have half the payment, a quarter even-!”
I trailed off, my stomach in knots. Scarry's scowl did not shift.
“Operator Aman,” he said at last. “You swear you had nothing to do with this?”
“Of course not,” Aman said hotly. “I give you my word as a captain.”
There was a tense, terrible moment. Then Scarry shrugged. “That'll do me.”
He reached into his inside pocket, pulled out the box containing the full payment from the sale, and tossed it onto the table between the two of them. Aman did not snatch it up, but it was a close thing.
“This is not ideal,” Scarry said, “but I see no reason for you to be punished for the impulsive behaviour of a spoiled, selfish little princeling.”
“They're not a princeling!” I snapped. Every set of eyes in the room turned to me, and I felt my face flare into a hot, bright flush. “They're a system administrator,” I finished weakly.
“Not yet,” Scarry pointed out. “Well. We found them once. We'll just have to do it again. Go you well, Operator. I suspect our paths will cross again.”
He jerked his head at his crew, setting them scrambling to their feet, and they filed out behind their captain, with only Resimus giving a single backward look in Tsabec's direction.
I see no reason to linger on what passed in the following days. We stayed in Sulka a little while, and then, with nothing else to do, we returned to Attala. Back on the ship, Aman debriefed the others.
There were conversations. Long discussions about what we might do, what we wanted to do, what we should do.
But the fact was, if Óli wanted to get in touch, they could. They could have come back to the Tola from Sulka or sent a message. But they had not.
My mistake at the first sale had put us a month behind schedule. The Tola was supposed to arrive in Kerrin at about the time I was taking shifts at the fish market.
We are badly behind time and now, we have the money to start moving again – and, at least from some perspectives, no very compelling reason not to.
I have left messages at the Attala transport hub, and at the Koom planetary port. I even left one in the fuelling station before we left the system. Óli has our details. They could find us if they wanted to.
And if… [sighs] If they do not want to… All I can do is pray that, when they think of me, they do not let our time together be darkened by the shadow of our final conversation.
As Tsabec said, they are an adult. They are not entirely without means, and the world is not so unkind a place as all that. They will be fine. I will keep them in my prayers, as you keep me in yours. I do not see what else there is to do.
[The sound of the data stick whirring fades in, cutting out when the data stick is removed with a click.]
The Traveller
Entry HE85002-10: Exploring the cultural norms of the Gudisk people around romantic love.
Key words: community; ethnography; Gudisk; Haihas; marriage customs; Mateig; philosophy and theology.
Notes:
I was in the refectory one afternoon when Duytren entered and set about making herself a cup of akhla.
I expected her to take her drink back to her quarters, but instead she took a seat opposite me, slouching in her chair as if this was an entirely ordinary state of affairs.
It is not that I dislike Duytren. But we have not spent very much time together alone – not counting our trip to the Makeba medical centre, which was hardly the most companionable experience.
“Haven't seen you out and about much lately,” she said, before I could ask what was wrong.
I could not deny the truth of the observation. I have been keeping to my cabin rather more than usual. “I have not been in the mood to socialise,” I said, hoping she would take the hint and leave me be. She did not.
“You didn't even leave the ship last time we stopped,” she said, stirring her drink. “What about that archive project of yours?”
“I am not beholden to make a record of every place we stop for lunch.”
“Could have fooled me.” She leant back in an attitude so effortlessly elegant, I wondered if she'd practised it. “Go on then,” she said, as if she were doing me a great favour. “Pick my brains for the folk at home.”
[sighing] “Duytren. I am not really in the mood.”
“I know you're not. But you aren't going to feel any better sitting about in your cabin and ignoring the rest of the world. Come on.”
I seriously thought about leaving. But I could see from the steely look in Duytren's eye that, despite her attitude of disaffected cool, she would not let me off so easily.
“Fine,” I said. “What do you want to talk about?”
“What do you want to hear?”
“You were the one who volunteered,” I pointed out. “Just tell me something about yourself, or your work, or your people…”
She snorted at that. “My people? You've never heard of my people.”
“All the better,” I said. “That is the point of the archive, after all.”
“Fair enough. You got your little recorder? Then I'll begin…
[clears throat] So. My people. I'm human, obviously, from a planet called Haihas in the Mateig system. But I don't much identify with any of that. It's too big. I can't hold a whole planet inside myself, let alone a whole solar system – a whole species! [laughs]
Specifically, I'm a Gudisk. It's an ethnic group descended from a particular group of settlers on Haihas. It's not a very well-defined group. But however you slice it, that's what I am. Though I never quite felt like I was. Not while I was still living on Haihas, anyway.
The Gudisk are monogamists. They- We generally only marry one person at a time, and while some people do have liaisons outside of that relationship, it's not really the done thing.
There is a belief among my people. More than folklore, but a little less than faith. The belief is that before anything else existed, there were souls. All the souls that would ever be born, floating out there in the murk beyond the world.
Our belief is that the universe began with separation. Nothing new was made. Instead, what was already there was split in half, and the universe is the space between those halves.
I'll spare you all the details of Gudisk cosmology. The point is that all those souls lurking out there in the Great Before were also divided. Every one of them, neatly bisected – one into two.
I'm sure you can see where this is going. Everyone in the universe has a single other person they're meant to be with – the other half of their soul.
Finding that person is the most important thing you can do. It's the fulfilment of everything you're supposed be to want, everything you're supposed to be.
And if it just so happens that most people seem to find their souls-half in the next village over from where they grew up- [laughs dryly] Well, that's just a sign that God itself has blessed the union.”
The steam rose from her mug and for a moment she seemed content to watch it twist into the air, bearing its sharp, citrus scent with it.
“It's not why I left,” she said slowly, “but it didn't help. I don't want any of that. I've never wanted it. I don't want to find my person, I certainly don't want to build my life around them.
Don't get me wrong, I can 'liaise' with the best of them. But that's where it ends for me. Sex is sex, and love is love, and I can have a perfectly good time with one while frankly finding the other about as appealing as drinking borag slime.
Not every Gudisk marries, of course. But if you're not with someone, if you're not trying to be with someone, putting all your effort into finding that one person, you're supposed to at least be upset about it.
You're supposed to talk about how much you miss your souls-half, how much you pray you'll find them in your next cycle. You're supposed to give a damn. Or at least make everyone feel better by pretending you do.”
I could not help smiling at that. “I cannot imagine you pretending anything you did not wish to.”
Duytren laughed, a short, bitter huff of air. [laughs] “No. No, I could never quite bring myself to even try and fake it.
I don't feel like half of anything. I feel like me, whole and entire, just as I am. Just as I should be.” She jutted out her jaw, a familiar fierceness coming into her eyes. “Just as God made me.”
“Yes,” I said, with complete certainty. “Yes. You are.”
She held my gaze a moment, her expression complicated. Then she smiled – a sudden, beautiful smile without a hint of irony or sarcasm.
“Will that do?” she asked.
“It's perfect. Thank you.”
“You're welcome. Now.” She swung her legs down and stood, shrugging on her familiar, sardonic attitude like a comfortable coat. “I want to see you at dinner tonight, or else I'll be knocking on your door demanding to tell you the recipe for Gram Wheila's cheese trifle.”
I pulled a face. “As long as you do not make me eat it.”
She spread her hands, taking no responsibility. “That depends entirely on you.”
[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 Amantia, 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.
This episode includes an audience decision. Should the Traveller seek comfort or distraction? Vote by making a donation at ko-fi.com/monstrousproductions.
Our tiers start at £1 a month, with all supporters getting access to bonus art, annotated scripts, weekly blogs, 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.]
--END TRANSCRIPT--
