Twenty Years and Half a Day from Now

All the stars were out, as they were every night, and day. The stars of Jupiter’s spring were familiar and comforting. At least the stars wouldn’t change. Twenty years from now, when she was planned to wake, the stars would remain. Even on Io, she wouldn’t view a drastically different view from Europa. Would she?

Fatima had never been to Io. The fighting had begun six years before, when she was only thirteen and just arranging for her debut into society. She’d never left her moon, then, and only rarely had now. Too much of a risk, the only daughter. The only trading point.

Because it always came back to trade on Europa. Terraforming had never taken a perfect hold, and the moon was desperate for imports. Desperate to export. That was essentially what Fatima was now: an export for the sake of peace.

But Fatima didn’t mind that, oddly. Who wouldn’t want peace? If this was a means of resolution, she didn’t truly want to stand in the way. The in-fighting had brought destruction not just to her own family’s business, but to all the families of Europa. And so she didn’t feel heavy hearted at the exchange. She was her family’s only daughter, and the only one who could make the sacrifice.

But why did the son of that Io family have to be a newborn?

The marriage had been arranged a week ago, in peace discussions mediated by another family from Phobos. The marriage was the crux of the peace accord, only possible due to stasis. It would’ve been unseemly, but possible, for Fatima to marry someone younger than herself. But a newborn? Impossible. So it was decided she would go into stasis for two decades — long enough for him to be her elder.

Who knew if the peace would hold. They’d surely release her early if anything went astray. Fatima could tell part of her wished so, to wake a year from now as opposed to twenty. But she could not pinpoint why, and that disturbed her.

She wouldn’t miss her life. Europa was a cold place, filled with cold people. Her parents paraded her around as a doll, delicately sheltered as her brothers never were. But Fatima didn’t know anything else, and so couldn’t fathom what she wanted in its stead.

A knock at the door drew Fatima from her thoughts. She beckoned the intruder inside, and a servant entered carrying a box. The last of her possessions. She had until morning to sort through them and decide what she would wake to, twenty years from now. For her it would be but a second.

Fatima thanked the servant, and was once again left on her own.

The box was old, filled with things from her childhood. She had forgotten all of them, and for a moment she considered discarding them immediately. She had already gone through most of her possessions without compassion. What wasn’t practical for a married life was set aside. But she went through the box, and was soon absorbed.

Ah, her old diary. Her thoughts had been so childish when she was eleven. Was there room for childishness in her future?

Fatima set it aside to be discarded.

And here was an old game, a dice game collecting symbols. Older men bet on these, but she had always played it for simple fun. This, too, was set aside, for someone else to play with.

But the next objects nestled into Fatima’s heart and stuck. Two great toy dragons, well worn from use, were stuffed into the bottom of the box. Fatima tugged out the first and felt a weight over her heart.

She had played with these with Rafi. The only one younger than her, Rafi was the only brother she’d miss. He was always gentle, and didn’t mind playing with a girl. What would he do for twenty years without her? Would he grow as cold as this moon?

Fatima returned to the window, clutching the dragon. This moon chilled everyone, sooner or later. It was a cold existence here, far from the social engagements of Mars. Distant and unforgiving. She had sheltered Rafi all his life, and now she’d be gone. What could she do?

Nothing, Fatima rationed. She pondered the icy surface at the edge of her horizon. She could do nothing, and not because she was a daughter. She could do nothing because she was a Europan, and all of this planet fell into stasis, somehow. Just because hers was literal made little difference. Just like the smooth surface down below, Fatima begged herself to remain calm. There was no use in emotions now.

When the tears began, she only berated herself worse.

Though silent, the tears sliced through her. This was worse than childish; it was pointless. Fatima knew she must’ve cried in her youth, but could not recall a single instance, and was proud to not be so easily moved. What drew such a response now? The ice? The dragon? The stars?

No, it was herself. Fatima only had tears for Fatima, lost and alone at nineteen, ready to be whisked into stasis, and then to Io, to live out a life with a husband who was not even a man yet. She pitied herself, and was disgusted with it.

It just wouldn’t do.

Fatima wiped at the tears with her sleeve, the water leaving tracks in the fabric. She knew she must do something. There wasn’t a life here on Europa, not anymore, but perhaps she could do something about Io.

Yes. She would do something.

Fatima went to the communicator and summoned a servant, then took out sheet after sheet of paper. She took up a pen and began to write, nervously at first but then faster. The words came easier with resolve. Twenty to Rafi, fifteen in all to her future husband. No point in writing to one who wouldn’t understand.

The servant came, and Fatima gave her instructions: Rafi was to come an hour before dawn, before she was to be taken to stasis. There would be no argument, Fatima knew, because she knew Rafi. He would come. And he would deliver her messages.

If she could not see her husband over the next twenty years, if she could only see him in half a day’s time as she would, then she could at least try and guide him. Teach him what she valued, what she expected. Things would change, surely, but she would adapt. Ice could melt.

When they came for her in the morning, Rafi had already come and gone. Fatima’s face was dry, and she was resolved as only a Europan could be. She would have a better life, even if she had to demand it later this evening, twenty years from now.