Canis Major

It only just now hit me how much this park has been a part of my life. My family has lived in the same neighborhood for my entire life. The picnic is taking place right on the field that I used to play Little League soccer on. I’m standing off to the side a short distance away from everyone else, where one of the goals would go. Specifically the goal that I was tasked with guarding in a particularly heated game about twelve or thirteen years ago. The only reason I chose to play goalie was because it involved the least amount of running around. Then, I was caught daydreaming and got drilled in the face so hard that my nose bled.

And wouldn’t stop.

    Mom hustled me to a hospital before the game ended. She hadn’t stopped crying for the rest of the day, swearing up and down that I wouldn’t play in any other sports leagues. My dad was happy that I was alright, but couldn’t quite hide how funny he thought the situation was. My brother couldn’t be bothered to hide it. 

    I don’t remember if we won the game or not.

    Ever since then, the park has been a hangout spot, where a bunch of us kids would come to talk shit and play games against each other, and even Mom would bring the family over to take long walks around the paths and such.

    The picnic is effectively a big farewell picnic for new students. There are fewer than a hundred students here, including me. The academy had a branch established right in our county when I had first started middle school. This academy in particular is a pretty big deal, and it had become a running gag within my family for the past three years that I’d be the first of my family to be part of such a prestigious institution.

Then the letter came. 

    Today is going to be my last day home, for...however the time differences work out. Suffice it to say, a couple years. Even now, on the very day I’m set to move out, I’ve been able to keep the full weight of that realization out of my head. It’s just a school. It’s far away and all, but it’s not like that’s unheard of. To be frank, it’s just a really long trip.

    “I know you’re scared.” My brother, Kevin, suddenly appears next to me.

    “Man, I ain’t scared,” I reply, trying to keep my voice flat.

    “Nah, nah, you’re scared. Can’t blame you either; those things tend to just dump people off in the middle of nowhere.”

    I shove him. “No they don’t. You don’t have to do this, you know. If you wanted the scholarship, you should’ve tried harder.”

    “Not me,” he laughs. “I wasn’t made for school. That’s why you gotta remember to stay on your shit out there. You represent all of us when you move in.” He places a finger on his arm, indicating the melanin in his skin. “You understand?”

    I laugh. “Well, thank God it’s me and not you.”

    “Trust me, I am. Don’t go making everybody look bad.”

    “Michael? Michael!” My mom’s voice cuts through the crowd. Bless her, she’s kept herself together for the whole event so far. Dad is close behind her, and he’s been noticeably quiet today.

    “I think they’re going to start soon,” Mom says. “We should head back over now, okay?”

    The four of us move back into the crowd of other families. Everyone is in a group, standing a considerable distance away from the man in the suit, who is standing next to a massive platform, kind of like an amphitheater. 

The man in the suit looks to the sky inquisitively. After a second, he smiles, then claps his hands. “Alright, everyone, the platform is primed and ready. All students, please climb aboard.”

    My mom hugs me, then my dad hugs me, then my mom hugs me, then my brother shoves me so hard I almost fall over, my mom tells him off and then hugs me.

    “I’ll miss you…” she says for the fourth time.

I guess I should just let her have this moment. “I’ll miss you too,” I reply.

    I make my way up the steps and stand in line with the other students. The man in the suit sets up a tripod in front of us to take one big group photo, but about 50 moms in the crowd beat them to the punch. Once the photo is taken, Suit Man steps up on the platform with us.

    He clears his throat. “Canis Major Academy is truly humbled and honored that you all have decided to place your children in our care. This is the start of a journey, and we pledge to work with them to the best of our abilities and provide them with the tools they need to truly succeed in whatever it is they choose to do.” With that, he claps his hands twice.

On command, the platform lights up and begins to hum. I had only seen this happen before, when the movers brought my stuff to the living quarters on-campus. I’m not sure what’s to blame for the inconsolable butterflies in my stomach: My general anxiety or the energy being given off by the platform? I look into the crowd and smile at my family once more.

Mom is bawling. Dad wipes his eyes and waves at me. Kevin raises both arms, pointing to his forearm again and mouths “Represent.”

I laugh, and in an instant, it feels like the weight of a space shuttle crashing onto my shoulders. It’s a struggle just to stay on my feet. I can’t exactly turn my head to look, but from the sound of it, the other students aren’t exactly having the best time either.

Then, as quickly as it came down, the pressure lifted. I open my eyes to see an open, medieval castle style gate under a spire that seems to just keep going up until it pierces the massive sun above.

The man in the suit claps his hands again. “Now! The first thing’s first, I apologize for the ‘rough ride’ but it’s simply a treat to see new students dealing with their first Jump.”

I grimace, from both the shock and his comment.

“Second,” he continues. “You may be experiencing nausea, but please do not worry. Your bodies will adjust in a short time. For now, if I may have your attention…” He points a finger up, turns around, then lowers his arm, leveling his pointer finger at a bright light in the distance, no larger than a stone. “That…” He pauses. “Is Sol, the star of your Milky Way galaxy.”

It hits me all at once. The distance traveled, the new expectations placed on me. The semester was only going to last for a few months, but thinking about just how far away from home I am makes my legs go numb.

“Man, what is this thing made out of?” The guy next to me nudges my arm. “This shit’s crazy…”

A half-hearted chuckle is the only reply I can make.

We all slowly step off of the platform, not fully trusting that we won’t fly off into space just yet. Every time I take a step forward, my body panics like it’s about to fly off the ground. Taking slow, uneasy steps, our group follows the Suit Guy right up to the gate.

“I should ask,” he says, turning around to smile at us like we aren’t fighting for our lives. “Are there any general questions you have before we move forward?”

None of us have any questions. Or, if anyone did, they were too preoccupied trying not to fly into the void.

Suit Guy starts talking again after a couple seconds anyway. “As you know, it is several times larger than yours, so it is unsafe to head out of the buildings during the day. Please take care to mind the curfews. When the bell sounds, please immediately make your way to the dormitories.”

I think it’s safe to say that the rest of us are only half listening. At least I’m only half listening, trying to re-learn how to walk and all.

“Ah, and here comes our council president. Everyone, say hello to Siaki K.”

A woman stepped over to us and bowed at the suited man. “Thank you, Ambassador.”

The Ambassador returns the gesture and steps back onto the platform, disappearing. The woman turns and smiles at us. She seems almost...reptilian; there are scales all over her face. Her eyes seem pretty far apart, and when she smiles, I notice that there’s an extra pair of teeth.

It isn’t until she turns and offers an awkward smile specifically at me that I realize I’ve been staring at her too directly for too long. I very quickly drop my gaze.

“Each of you will be assigned a personal Ambassador to help you become acquainted with the school grounds and its rules. Are there any questions?”the kid next to me

“Yeah,” the kid next to me speaks up again. “We call this CoRot 7b, but what do you guys call it?”

Siaki offers a defeated laugh, before spitting out a terse set of rough syllables that seems to grind against my inner ear. “CoRot 7b is fine, our name for it has a history of being hard for humans to replicate. Still, if you wish to learn, you’re more than welcome.

“Now, if that is all,” Siaki continues. “Please follow me to your living quarters.”

She walks off and I prepare to follow, but every nerve in my body starts to panic as soon as my weight shifts.

I better figure out this whole “walking around on other planets” thing fast.