Temporary Childhood
by Antony Paschos
When dad lost his job, Elina had to change schools, they had to leave their apartment and dad couldn’t afford to rent mom anymore. It was supposed to be temporary. In a few weeks, months maximum, he’d fix all the malfunctions of his last upgrade.
“And this will be the best improvement the comms towers of our ship ever had, Elina!” he’d said.
Problem was that, until then, he’d have to concentrate on his research in the mornings and work in the Public Catering Services in the evenings.
With him busy and mom out of contract, Elina got to spend more time alone. The district of her old neighborhood was only three sectors away in the gravity ring of the Livas. But access was denied to unaccompanied nine-year-olds. So, Elina started to chit-chat with her old classmates in the evenings via her tablet. For a while it worked, but then the silences between messages started to grow. Some of her questions remained unanswered. An ex-classmate of hers didn’t invite her to his birthday party.
It wasn’t that bad. Who cared about birthday parties anyway? Apart from the handmade sweets from the Agno patisserie, they weren’t worth her while. And she grew bored of explaining again and again that dad’s ex-team manager would hire him back eventually.
Perhaps a few weeks of silence would make her comeback to the school of Panorama district surprising. Her old classmates would miss her. Just like she missed mom.
The last time Elina had seen her, mom had told dad that being the youngest in her new class wouldn’t help her make new friendships, especially in a district such as the bogs. Dad insisted that she shouldn’t go to an earlier a grade, but mom had been proven right. And though skipping grades had attained urban legend status among the supernumeraries, when Elina tried to explain to her deskmate that she wasn’t an exception in Panorama, Sofia had yawned. Soon she discovered that all references to her old district summoned reactions that ranged from annoyance to plain disapproval.
Once, during a painting class, their teacher had left the students alone, and Sofia asked Elina: “Is it true that because of your dad, our ship lost comms for three days?”
Elina had answered this question before to most of her friends, but admitting dad’s mistake to her new deskmate didn’t feel right.
Sofia didn’t wait for an answer. “Well, I don’t know about your dad, but my mom’s a hero. Since dad died, she’s raising me all alone.”
Elina was about to say that most of the parents in Panorama were doing the same. But truth was that they hired bot partners, just like dad. And then, mentioning Panorama would kill the conversation.
“Cool.”
Being two years senior to Elina hadn’t made Sofia any better at drawing. Her sketch could be a spaceship, a tire, a planet or just a circle. Mom had told Elina that children might bully other kids out of jealousy, so she didn’t put a lot of effort in her drawing either. Yet the ship on her pad’s screen resembled the Livas spaceship, von Braun wheel and all.
“What about your mom?”
“My mom… My mom’s a star in Panorama.” The moment Elina mentioned her old district, she regretted it.
“A star? How’s that?”
“You’d see posters of hers all over the place. On the walls, in the plazas–” Her voice trailed off. There weren’t any plazas in the bogs, and Sofia’s lips joined forming an ‘o.’
They got back to drawing, Sofia pushing her pad’s pen against its screen as if trying to graze it.
One thing Elina was still struggling with in the bogs was the frequent gravity shifts. The rest of the kids didn’t seem to mind, but she avoided participating in games and preferred to spend the breaks seated on her favorite bench in the schoolyard under a row of burnt lamps – the bogs’ ceiling didn’t have a glass vault to marvel at the vastness of space. Above her head, the wiring, the piping of the air recycling system, even the water sprayers, were all entangled in a dust-laden jungle set upside down.
Sofia came to her, face twisted in a strange expression. “Your mom’s not a superstar.” She leaned forward as if to spit at her. “Your mom’s a bot. That’s why you used to see posters of her! ’Cause everyone could buy one!”
The yard suddenly seemed to shrink. A girl nearby shooed her friends to silence. One of them chuckled.
“If everyone could, how come your mom didn’t?”
An outburst of giggles spread around the schoolyard. Lips trembling, Sofia retreated. They wouldn’t speak for a week.
Elina skipped lunch. She had lost her appetite and it wasn’t because of the gravity shifts. So, when she went home, she gorged on a few pieces of giouvetsi left in the fridge, though she had eaten the same food yesterday – the Public Catering where dad worked printed food for the bogs’ school as well.
Dad raised his head from the screen of his PC. In their tiny flat, the living room also served as dad’s bedroom and office, the kitchen table doubling as a desk. He stretched his arms.
“What’s up, little drone?”
Mom used to call Elina ‘baby drone,’ and ever since she was gone, dad was ripping off her expressions. “What was the most interesting thing you did today?” This was mom’s opening question every time Elina came back from school.
She told him what happened, expecting a lecture for answering back to Sofia.
But dad just rubbed his eyes. “Well, mom is a copy. And, technically, it wasn’t her in all those posters.”
“I’m still proud of her,” Elina snapped back.
“How’s that?”
She munched on a slice of bread. “Aren’t you proud of your comms towers?”
“I am.”
“Aren’t there other copies of them?”
“There are.” He pulled his chair closer to her. “Look… I know that couples raising kids is old school, but that doesn’t mean it’s always wrong.”
Elina sipped a bit of juice, but then gravity slackened its pull, and she burped. “Dad? Would you marry another woman? Now that mom’s gone?”
“Who, me?” He got up, shuffled to the fridge, grabbed a jug of recycled beer. “Look, I had a bot mom too. I mean… I’m not so good at long-term relationships.”
He stared at the jug of beer for a second. Elina’s stomach gurgled – she knew its taste was even worse than her juice. While mom was home, she wouldn’t dare try alcohol, and mom would certainly catch her if she did. But with her gone, Elina had started breaking some rules – and dad had never noticed.
“I haven’t thought about it, little drone. But I’m not looking into it. Does this sound good enough for you?”
Another hijacked expression.
“I guess.” Elina hadn’t thought this over; she had just spoken her mind. “Is mom coming back? Like, before we reach the new Terra where we’re going?”
Dad put the jug of beer back in the fridge. “I’m working on it, little drone. I’m working on it.”
A week later, during a break, Sofia stayed with Elina in the classroom. By now, she had gotten used to the gravity shifts – they were quite predictable and happened mostly in the morning. Dad had explained to her that it had something to do with the position of the bogs on the gravity ring of the Livas and the lack of suspension. They used to be a hydrogen tank originally, then they had been turned into a depository, an industrial area, until the Council offered it to the supernumeraries.
Elina was now painting a planet with three moons – the Terra that the Livas was supposed to reach when she’d turn eighteen.
“Do you look more like your mom or your dad?” Sofia broke their one-week silence.
Out of the corner of Elina’s eye, the crude sketch of a woman was visible on her deskmate’s pad. “Well, I only have my dad’s genes…”
“But my mom told me that kids often look like the people they love.”
Elina’s mom had told her that some parents, especially in the past when bots equipped with child psychology modules were unavailable, used to lie to their children. But she had a hunch that coming up with this information wouldn’t help them make up.
“Well, I guess I might look like mom a bit.”
Sofia smiled. “I thought so. ’Cause, you know, there’s a copy of your mom in the bogs. And you look just like her.”
Now that Sofia mentioned it, Elina had never seen a bot in the bogs. It was as if they were prohibited. She brought her pad’s pen in her mouth. Her sweaty palm had left a bitter taste on it.
“I just thought you’d wanna know.”
“Thanks.”
Suddenly, Elina wanted to leave this place. The classroom, the bogs. She almost got up, when gravity tightened its grip around her belly.
“You okay?”
Elina got hold of her desk, trying to fight a growing nausea. “Yes.” She wouldn’t admit weakness. Mom had taught her self-control.
“I can show you where she is. I mean, if you want to. But I have to help mom tonight – she’s mending comms repair parts at home. She’s got quite a few. After, you know, what happened.”
Elina gulped down a retch. Of course, she knew; dad’s last upgrade had caused half the comms towers of the ship to burst and the rest to shut down.
“But we could go on, like, Thursday evening?”
Mom had once told Elina that a sudden change of behavior from someone who’s hostile to you is rarely a sign of good intentions.
“Nah. I’ll stay home too. Dad has a lot of work to do as well.”
Elina had never helped dad with anything, but she had replied without thinking.
Sofia’s pencil scratched the screen of her pad. “Okay.”
“But thanks anyway.” Elina forced a smile, just like mom had taught her. “I appreciate it.”
The next two days Sofia was friendly, and Elina started wondering if rejecting her offer was a mistake. At Thursday morning, dad visited school. It’s common knowledge that dads don’t come at school unless there’s a good reason, and in Elina’s case, Miss Argiriou must’ve caught on to the silence between her and Sofia. Yet she was surprised to see him in the teachers’ office, dressed in his good shirt, pants and shoes. When her teacher called her in, the scent of his perfume hit her – dad had shaved too.
Miss Argiriou’s smile was wide and honest, unlike the smirk she employed during her classes. She wasn’t an unattractive woman. And dad was smiling back at her. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Elina was relieved to be sent back to her classroom.
Sofia’s silence suited her fine. In the past, mom had told her that dad was free to meet other women. And there was a time when he’d go out at night, and Elina hadn’t felt threatened. But how should she feel now? It was dad who claimed that couples rarely provided a calm and stable environment for a child. And now, in mom’s absence, his flirting seemed like a betrayal. Wasn’t he supposed to be searching for a way to redeem himself?
Suddenly, the twenty kids around her – double the number of her past classmates – seemed to be huddling closer and closer, pressing against her personal space. Miss Argiriou’s arrival was an intrusion in an already crammed place. Elina raised her hand and asked to visit the bathroom.
Most teachers would’ve asked her why didn’t she go during the break, but Miss Argiriou let her without a comment. At her return, Elina had sworn to herself that she’d keep her mouth shut, but Miss Argiriou didn’t ask her any questions anyway. This was rare; could it be a sign that she was into dad?
“Hey,” Elina whispered to Sofia. “Can we still go?”
“Sure! Tonight, okay? I’ll text you!”
Miss Argiriou threw them a glance, that flared up Elina’s anger.
“I’ll be waiting.”
She didn’t whisper this time, in hope of sparkling a scolding from her teacher. But she just resumed her lesson. Elina’s anger deflated, leaving her with a hunch that she was about to do something stupid. She’d cancel the meeting, but the bell rang and Sofia threw a “see you later,” and set off for the door.
Elina ambled back home, gravity clenching and releasing her stomach, as if this was her very first walk in the bogs’ unstable ground. Oh well. She could always find an excuse to cancel the meeting later.
At home she dropped her sack on the floor, and dad raised his head from his PC – even the floors of the buildings must’ve been thinner in the bogs.
“Dad? Do kids look like the people they love?”
“Well, children take their parents’ genes. It’s biology, right?”
“No, I mean, do I look like mom?”
Dad rubbed his arms as if he was cold. He was wearing pajamas and a sweater but the recycled air was colder than in Panorama and their flat lacked heating.
“Well, in some things you do. You’re calm, composed… Come to think of it, you’re like her in – ”
“Are you into Miss Argiriou?”
“Me? No – hey, where did that come from?” Dad pushed his chair back.
“You two were smiling at each other.”
“Well, little drone, people smile at each other all the time.”
Elina crossed her arms over her chest.
Dad leaned against his chair, crumpling the shirt and pants that were hanging from its back – the clothes he was wearing at school. “It’s not that she’s not a nice person. But, I mean, we… I’ve only just met her.”
He opened his arms, but this wasn’t the answer Elina was hoping for. “I don’t want Miss Argiriou to replace mom. I don’t wanna look like her.”
Now dad left his chair and got on his knees, arms wide open. She gave in hesitantly, scared that she’d choke on the smell of his perfume. But as he squeezed her, his clothes reeked of his sweat. And though it wasn’t mom’s smell, it worked; and a trail of hot tears flowed from her eyes to her cheeks.
“Everything will be okay, little drone. I promise–”
She pulled free of his embrace and faced him. “Is it because we can’t afford mom? Is it because Miss Argiriou is free of charge?”
Dad closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, Elina’s tablet pinged with a message.
Elina waited for dad to leave on his mini-scooter, then slipped in her purple parka and put on her flowery, purple, rubber boots. She also got a pair of latex gloves. She hadn’t worn these since she was five, when she was trying desperately to be like mom. Now her fingers didn’t swim inside them, but the feeling was still funny. Yet, there was something right about wearing them tonight. Finally, she grabbed her purple umbrella.
One of the few things Panorama and the bogs had in common was the cleaning time every Thursday afternoon. But whereas in Panorama a lukewarm drizzle poured from water sprayers embedded in the ceiling, the frigid rainfall in the bogs was erratic; hailing in torrents, dribbling, or leaking out of burst pipes in streams that turned to strange fountains at gravity shifts.
Elina circled away from the Public Catering Services building. Most passersby were pacing fast, dressed in worn uniforms. She noticed a woman in a torn envirosuit jacket – so, that’s where the old clothes from Panorama ended up. Only a few mini-scooters crossed the cracked roads raising fans of stale water, but their sight made Elina stop and check if their driver was dad.
She met Sofia under the balcony of a building on the other side of the district. Her classmate scanned her from her boots to her umbrella, then raised an eyebrow. “Your dad has a purple umbrella?”
Elina almost spurted out that it was hers, but a month and a half in the bogs had taught her better than this. “It’s my mom’s.”
“Oh.” Sofia’s stare alighted on her latex gloves for a while, and Elina tried to find an excuse. “Let’s go,” said Sofia finally, and she breathed out.
Sofia caught her hand and snuggled close to her under her umbrella. Soon they were walking in synch, as if they were friends forever. A strange thought occurred to Elina; she might miss Sofia should she return to Panorama.
Something cracked under the sole of her boot. An explosion of glass shards was already scattered on a dusty floor, bare of tiles. The smell of wet plastic had been replaced by the stench of something rotten.
“What are we doing here?”
Sofia broke free of her grasp. “Hiding! Don’t you wanna see your mom?”
There was a certain ring in Sofia’s voice as she crossed the room they had gotten into. But Elina was too busy looking around her to figure out what it meant.
Large patches of stucco had peeled off the walls. This place must’ve been a bank once because a boxy anteroom behind her was still intact, though covered in mold. According to dad, the humidity levels of the bogs were high because the place was originally a hydrogen tank.
Around Elina’s boots were strewn dried up condoms, empty blister packs and crocks of shit – according to mom, addicts didn’t recycle their stuff or poop. She froze before a mummified rat. So, the rumors that rodents had infested the Livas were true.
“Come on!” Sofia was waiting for her across the room.
The glassless back side of the basement was opening into an alley. The windows of the building across from them were either barred or shut with makeshift panels. The only exception was a large door in the middle of a pink wall. Painted in the same color but bleached by time, the door looked like it was covered in worn artificial skin. Hanging from the balcony above was a sign with the sketch of a cat craning a long tail over a name: Psipsines. Kitty cats.
“There. That’s were your mom works.” Sofia’s finger pointed at a pillar covered in posters with mom’s face. Her model name was misspelled; the “H” in the Emha as similar to an “M” as a font can make it. “She does look a bit like you.”
No, she didn’t, but if Sofia was playing her, Elina wouldn’t grant her the joy of arguing about it. “Perhaps. Hey, thanks. That was very nice of you.”
Sofia’s triumphant grin faded. “You got any idea what kind of place is this? Oh, wait, of course not. You might be smarter than the rest of us, but you’re just a kid.”
“It’s a strip bar.” Elina had seen one in a cracked VR game.
Sofia’s eyes squinted. “And aren’t you…”
“What? Pissed off? Why? Mom’s a general utility droid. It can have sex too.”
Gravity hiccupped and Sofia reached for a wall, though the shift felt insignificant to Elina. Then the clacking of footsteps, so rhythmic they could belong to a drum machine, introduced a figure marching down the alley.
Bots in Panorama were bound to wear their uniforms outside. But neither the long gabardine, or the worker’s cap hiding her hair could make Elina doubt. The balance of her walk flooded her with memories. Mom cleaning the house while humming a kids’ song. Mom teaching her how to dance. Mom leaving her room after narrating her favorite fairytale. Her moves were always measured and accurate; inhuman.
“Wow, it’s really her,” whispered Sofia.
Elina would’ve answered that droids were common in Panorama and the chance of this certain model actually being mom was minuscule.
But something was blocking her throat. This was the first bot she’d come across in the bogs, and suddenly she felt as if her past in Panorama was ages ago. She found herself kneeling, as if pulled by a gravity spike.
Mom, or whoever the bot was, went straight for the bar. She knocked the door, then waited perfectly still – just like she used to do; for the eggs to fry, for some device to reset, for little Elina to cooperate.
Gravity must have eased its grip because the ground started to sink as Elina rose back on her feet, as if levitating. All those shifts turned her stomach, but her legs lugged her forward on their own will.
A whisper sounded behind her, so low, as if coming from the other side of the bogs: “Elina! What are you doing?”
A hand clutched her shoulder, but she threw it off.
But then the door opened and mom – no, the robot that was the same model with mom – disappeared into the darkness.
When Elina’s dad came back from work, he found her oaring her spoon in a bowl of protein with cereal flakes. Truth was that she had finished binge-watching TV a few minutes ago – she had a grown keen eye for actions that could trigger a parental lecture, and finding her in front of the TV screen made top of the list.
He threw his gloves on the table and tousled her hair with a sweaty palm. “What’s up, little drone? You okay? Something happened at school?”
When mom was around, dad had avoided direct questions. Once, Elina had overheard mom advising him to prefer statements that identified emotions. Back then her guidance had sounded like a strategy, or worse, like manipulation, and Elina had tried to resist it. But now, dad’s return to his older habits didn’t feel like a sincere behavior but laziness, as if he wasn’t giving her enough attention.
“Nothing.”
“But you look…” He struggled to find the word as mom’s instructions seemed to kick back in his mind. “Troubled.”
And this almost unlocked Elina. She reached closer to him, only to crash against the barrier of a strange smell. Was it Miss Argiriou’s perfume?
She burst into a cough. Dad’s hand touched her shoulder, but she nudged it away. “When is mom coming back?”
“Soon, little drone. I’m almost finished… I just need to run a few more tests. You know, just to be sure.”
Silent, Elina took the bowl of cereals and left it in the sink unfinished.
“Hey, want me to read you a story?”
“No, thanks.”
Though dad lacked mom’s ventriloquist module, a fairytale would probably calm her down. But Elina didn’t want to calm down; she wanted dad to fall asleep as fast as possible. The need to see mom – no, the bot– was growing inside her.
He took her bowl from the sink and leaned his back against the fridge. In between spoonfuls of damp flakes, he said: “I’ll try more, baby. I promise.”
Elina washed her teeth in the tiny bathroom, then shuffled to her room and nestled under her blanket.
Her eyelids were heavy, despite her yearning to visit the bar. Her shut door, muffling the noises from the living room, didn’t help her stay awake either.
But then the door slid open and a thin silhouette eclipsed the newly-sliced dimness cast from the living room. Dressed in her uniform instead of a nightgown, because staying for the night was charged extra, she crossed the room and knelt over Elina’s bed. Despite the oddity of the situation, Elina was too numb to be surprised; she just feasted her senses as mom’s lips touched her forehead, soft and velvety and ever-damp with lip-gloss.
A door’s screech woke Elina up. A muffled thud ensued. Her door was shut – had always been shut, so this must’ve been the apartment’s door. A paralyzing question dispersed the feeling of loss and her slight headache: Had someone broken into their flat? Only dad’s PC and his mini-scooter were valuable. But in the bogs, most parents used the tablets donated to their kids. Elina kept still, trying to figure if the tiniest cracks in the silence added up to a footstep, a rustle or a breath. But the apartment was mute. It must’ve been dad who had opened the door.
She gathered her wits and padded across her room. The door squeaked open, electrifying the skin on her spine. She took a long, soundless breath, held it, then turned on the lights of the living room.
Everything was in place. The mini-scooter was missing, along with dad’s sneakers and envirosuit jacket.
“Dad?”
No answer. Where was he? In Panorama he hardly ever left home at night. Could he be meeting with another woman? Miss Argiriou? Elina caught herself clenching her fist. She’d punch the fridge – but what did mom used to say when Elina got angry? Rationalize your thoughts.
Sure, mom was a rented droid. And it wasn’t right to blame dad for meeting other women. Yet Elina’s feelings were so straightforward as if instinctive. She didn’t want Miss Argiriou or any other woman in her life. She wanted mom.
Elina slipped on her clothes, and off she went into the artificially rain-soaked night.
A cold breath of rusty iron and plastic welcomed Elina when the door of the building shut behind her. The thud punctuated a silence that was built with the wheezing of air recyclers, the distant drone of mini-scooters and the buzzing of a dying lamp. Its feeble shimmer stirred the shadows in hostile undulations. How was she supposed to find her way in this darkness? The idea of searching for mom suddenly felt stupid.
Really, what she expected to happen? Go to the strip bar and wait for the bot to come out? And then? Even if she talked to her, what were the chances that she’d have mom’s memories?
No. All Elina wanted was to look at her. This wasn’t so stupid, right? Gravity seemed to shift languidly, as if Elina was balancing on a pendulum. The bar was far away – but, wait, this time she didn’t have to avoid the food printers. She could walk straight to the bar.
A glance to the left, a glance to the right, then she dashed across the street, and into the closest column of light of a functioning street lamp. Then, to the next. The few passersby were too busy to notice her. A question crossed her mind: Why had Sofia led her to the bar in the first place? The answer escaped her, the thought of mom casting all others aside.
Elina’s heart was racing when she arrived at the old bank. But perhaps it wasn’t the ghastly sight of the basement, but her run instead.
The stench of urine flared up her nostrils. Had someone else been here? The tapping of waterdrops still leaking from a broken pipe was the only sound – no, a distant creaking released a muffled beat of music. An exchange of words, a female laughter, then a thud that cut the commotion off. It had come from the bar’s direction. Though Elina was certain that the laughter was human, every passing second was shifting its pitch in her mind toward the ring of mom’s voice. Her palms felt damp inside her pockets – this time she had forgotten to wear gloves.
Inside the basement, something gelatinous squashed under her boot. She upped her pace, grazing her sole against the floor every now and then though the stink of shit seemed to have seeped into her socks.
The sign with the cat was bathing the back alley in a gray haze, sparkling against the pools on the cracked pavement. A few mini-scooters were parked outside, one standing out from the rest, being the only one that was lacking any makeshift parts.
Dad’s scooter.
Surprise was the first thing Elina felt. What was dad doing here? Then, shame; dad in a strip bar? Realization ensued; he must’ve been here for mom too. She felt stupid; she should’ve expected this. Then came relief. Even if dad was into Miss Argiriou, mom still mattered to him. Finally, excitement. Was dad trying to get her back?
A squawking behind her, and suddenly she realized that her ears had gotten used to listening to someone’s breath, and she only noticed it now for it had ceased abruptly. From the boxy frame of what was once an elevator a shade detached; a blurry silhouette tottering her way.
“Well, well, well, either the rats have grown too fat or someone lost his offspring.” Croaky voice, odor of vomit.
Had Elina stayed, she would’ve thrown up; but she darted across the alley and straight to the strip bar. Freezing waterdrops pricked her hair – when had she taken off her hood? Finding protection under the bar’s sign, she stood with her back against the wall that was pounding in the beat of a muffled song – or was it her heart hammering against her ribs? Something damp like the cereal she had in the afternoon peeled off against her parka. A prick of guilt; it must have been mom’s posters.
But she had worse problems. Out of the darkness of the basement, emerged a lanky figure dressed in a jumble of clothes. Their face was hidden in the depths of a hoodie.
A raspy chuckle. “So you’re not a rat.”
Then, the door next to her opened with a prolonged squeal, and she jumped. The thug stepped back into the shadows. Thunderous music gushed out of the bar for as long as it took for someone to come out. Then the door closed again, swallowing the noise.
Elina turned her head and, without a word, she crashed unto dad’s body, almost throwing him back. It took him half a second to realize who she was and hug her. Out of the corner of her eye, the thug’s figure melted into the darkness, as if they had never existed. And, indeed, dad’s arms around her and the smell of recycled beer in his breath carried away what she had just seen into what could have been a fantasy.
Dad knew better than to pester Elina with questions when they got home. The first, “how did you end up in this place?” turned into a: “you look upset,” that evolved quickly into a: “you’re exhausted, we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
He was right. She was so tired that she slept at once, despite the promise of a parental lecture. Yet, come the morning, dad didn’t mention anything about last night. Perhaps he had forgotten it, being too caught up in his research.
He kissed her goodbye. “You look better. Have a great day at school!”
But she didn’t have a great day at school. The rest of the kids welcomed her with sly smiles and whispers, while Sofia was always finding something to busy herself with.
During one of the breaks, a senior student Elina had never noticed came in the classroom and stood before her desk. “Hey, big shot!”
Elina raised her head from her pad, only to see the boy grab his crotch.
“How does it feel to find your mom fucking us boggers?”
The whole class laughed so loud that whatever came out of Elina’s mouth went unnoticed. All eyes were on her and suddenly the room had become hot.
The boy’s wide grin revealed a missing tooth.
“If your mom can’t even teach you manners,” said Elina, “then it’s no wonder your dad prefers bots.”
Silence spread in the classroom. A pair of lines creased the boy’s cheeks as he clenched his jaw. He raised a fist, but Elina had stopped caring. Violence was punished severely in her previous school, so she’d never been punched before, but how much could it hurt?
Luckily, she didn’t have to find out. Miss Argiriou barged in the classroom, shouting at the boy to get out. If she took notice of Elina’s trembling fingers, she didn’t show it.
Bumping into dad in the strip bar had soothed Elina’s suspicions about their flirting. But her emotions were still a skein inside her. Perhaps, if she talked to dad, he’d help her disentangle them.
Which he did, at dinnertime. “I guess you’re wondering what I was doing in that place.” He was stirring his printed pasta with his fork.
Mom had taught Elina to let people speak, even if she disagreed with them. You’d be surprised at what you might hear, she had said, and interrupting is rude, anyway.
“I won’t lie to you, little drone, I miss mom as much as you do.”
Elina waited for him to swallow a tiny morsel in silence. It took a long time.
“Look, I’m sorry. I haven’t forgotten my promises. But my research… It’s not going as expected.” A sigh. “All of this is supposed to be temporary–”
“No,” blurted Elina before she could think otherwise.
Dad’s fork tinged against his plate.
“This is temporary, yes. The school… The bogs… But our lives in Panorama were temporary too, right? I mean, all our lives…” This suddenly felt too abstract. “Our lives in Livas, I mean… Aren’t they temporary?”
A faint smile curved up dad’s lips.
“Even mom was supposed to be temporary.” Her voice came out a whisper. “Won’t she take on other duties when we reach this new Terra?”
Dad nodded.
“Everything is temporary, sure, but not for me. Mom’s not temporary. You’re not temporary. And I don’t care about Panorama or the bogs or the whole spaceship. I just want mom back.”
A sob escaped her. But why had dad’s smile grown wider?
“You’re right, little drone. But there’s something I wanted to tell you.” He took a deep breath. “That bot in the bar? We had a little chat, and I asked her if I… If we could rent her, you know, just for a few hours. Like, perhaps, every week? The price she asked was reasonable.”
Elina’s heart fluttered. “Yeah, but what about mom’s memories?”
“Well, I know the manager who’s responsible for the droids. She hasn’t come up with an answer yet, but she told me that maybe…” An awkward smile. “I think we can hope.”
Two days later, it was Elina’s birthday. Dad wanted to buy sweets from Agno, the patisserie in Panorama, but Elina insisted that her classmates wouldn’t appreciate it. So, he settled for a box of chocolates from the food printers.
She braced herself for another round of mocking, but the kids welcomed the sweets. Sofia looked genuinely happy when Elina gave her a second one. Come to think of it, since Elina’s answer to that boy, none of her classmates had taunted her, and the incident with her mom seemed to have been forgotten.
Back at home and while she was studying, dad sat beside her on the couch. “I’ve got news, little drone. The manager answered!” Dad caught Elina’s pad that fell from her hands. “I’m telling you, this is great! They said that my fixes, though outdated by now, are still useful and –”
He shut his mouth, left her pad on a cushion. Perhaps her disappointment was evident.
“What’s wrong baby?” He took a deep breath, then released it, looking like an actor preparing for a second try on a scene. “You look disappointed.”
Elina shrugged. Dad’s identification of her emotion felt reassuring. But still. “I thought you were talking about the manager who’s responsible…”
“For the bots? Oh. No. But look –”
“I know, it’s temporary.”
“No, wait. Let me explain please. I didn’t get my old job back. We’re not moving to Panorama, and I don’t know when – damn, maybe we get to this new Terra first. But they’re offering me a remote job position. A job, little drone, with a decent salary! You know what this means?”
“Are we… Are we getting mom back?”
The doorbell rang, and Elina flinched so hard, she almost lost her balance.
“Hey, careful.” Dad went for the door.
Now Elina’s heart was pounding. She hadn’t felt gravity shift since that night in the bar, but tonight it seemed as if the whole district was tipsy.
Dad was never a man of surprises. But, could he have arranged a visit from mom? Elina found herself standing behind him in the hallway. The door opened.
Miss Argiriou was standing outside holding a chocolate box with the word Agno inscribed on it. Elina hadn’t tasted any handmade sweets since the last birthday party when she’d been in Panorama. Her mouth watered, but only momentarily.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart!” Miss Argiriou’s mouth, shining with lipstick, seemed swollen like an envirosuit in space.
Dad turned around to look at Elina as if slapped. She mumbled an answer and got back to the kitchen, a rock pressing against her lungs. The last two days she had almost started to like her teacher. But this felt like a plot played out behind her back. And tonight’s visit was an intrusion.
If only mom was here, Elina wouldn’t mind Miss Argiriou. But what if mom came every week and Miss Argiriou visited them more often? She could almost hear mom’s answer: The numbers don’t matter, baby drone.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come,” whispered Miss Argiriou in the hallway.
“No, it’s okay. It’s just that we were in the middle of a conversation.”
“Okay, I just wanted to bring her these. And, congratulations! I really hope that you’ll get your old job back one day!”
Was that the smack of a kiss? The door clanged shut, and dad came in and left the box on the desk.
“Aren’t these your favorite chocolates?”
Elina curled up in the corner of the couch. The sweets should be delicious, and if she didn’t take one now, she’d have to wait until tomorrow. Pretending they didn’t mean anything to her sank her mood deeper.
Dad stood before her, draping her with his shadow. “Okay, so listen. First off, I’ve already quit the food printers. That’s how Rita got to know about it. Her sister works there.”
Oh, now Miss Argiriou was Rita. Great.
“Second, this new job means that I’ll have more time to spend with you. I could help you with your homework and…”
Elina almost blurted that she’d never needed his help. Mom used to help her, and mom was all she needed. But she just picked up her pad from the cushion, keeping silent.
“And lastly, I’ll be able to afford mom for a few hours every week.”
Elina raised her head, feeling her eyes inflate like Miss Argiriou’s lips.
“Don’t get too excited… It’s gonna be like an evening each week. At least, in the beginning. And it’s the bot working on that bar. But, hey, she’ll have mom’s memories. All of them.”
Now Elina took off. Dad hugged her, and though the scent of Miss Argiriou’s perfume was lingering about his clothes, it didn’t matter anymore.
“So, you gonna eat those chocolates, or should I hand them back to Rita?”
“I’ll eat them,” she replied and the words mingled with her sobs.
For the occasion, Elina had picked the last dress mom had bought her – with dad’s credit, of course – from the thrift shop in Panorama. It was a frock that was woven back in Terra Novem, more than a hundred years ago, and mom had said it was her favorite. After Elina’s return from school, dad had spent half an hour struggling to weave her hair into something that resembled the plaits mom used to braid her. This was the first time Elina had let him, and he’d done a decent job.
“She’s late, isn’t she?”
“No, little drone. Five more minutes.”
Dad was wearing a T-shirt and jeans. Elina had never noticed mom commenting on his choice of clothes, but now she wished she had. Her fears about Miss Argiriou hadn’t disappeared completely. Was his heart beating as hard as hers for mom?
Probably, because he was refilling his glass of recycled beer.
The doorbell rang, and they jumped from the couch together. Dad’s empty glass fell on the floor and he picked it up and placed it on the table. Elina found solace in his clumsiness and smiled back at him. He offered her an oily palm, which she didn’t mind at all. Hand in hand, they crossed the narrow hallway. Dad reached for the doorknob but his fingers floated before it. Then he sidled, letting Elina open the door.
And there she was. Dressed in a purple uniform, just like the last time Elina had seen her, a few hours before they had left their apartment in Panorama for good.
“Hey there, baby drone. You look great!”
Her voice was dissonantly calm for the occasion, almost indifferent. Yet it brimmed Elina’s heart with warmth. It was as if she had never left.
She dipped on her knees to face Elina from the same height, as she used to. Then she touched the frock’s strap on Elina’s shoulder. Her fingers were lukewarm and a bit damp – the balm she was using made them feel different than latex.
“And isn’t this my favorite dress?”
Her smile widened – and, oh, how Elina had missed the inhuman accuracy of her facial expressions!
She opened her arms, and a waft of jasmine and wet silicon, a well-known scent, a Panorama scent, mom’s scent, invaded Elina’s nostrils. Gravity must’ve spiked because Elina’s body suddenly felt too heavy for her legs to carry, and she fell in mom’s embrace. Hot tears sprang from her eyes, and she sank her head on the soft fabric of the purple uniform, while mom’s fingers fondled her hair.
“Hey, I see daddy fixed your braids. But I’ve learned a couple of new styles to make them. What do you think? Want me to try?”
_______________
Antony Paschos is a Greek author with short stories in Interzone, Galaxy’s Edge, ZNB Presents, Giganotosaurus, James Gunn’s Ad Astra, and other magazines.
His short story collection: The Brother’s Inheritance was shortlisted for the Greek National Literature Award and the Anagnostis Prize for Literature.
He has published four books in Greek, one novel in French and the novella: It’s You, Isn’t it? in English from Space Wizard Science Fantasy Books.
His work has been translated into five more languages. He is a member of the Athens Club of Science Fiction, and lives in Athens.