You’ll Get Used to It

You’ll Get Used to It

By LuAnn Williamson

     “Welcome to Capiucho Seven,” the Concierge told me as he bowed low over my hand that held my identity chip. The brass trim on his suit glittered in the overhead lights. “We hope you can easily adapt to the conditions here and stay on here, taking up residence. Just keep to the concourses for the first few days, even weeks and you’ll be fine.” He gestured down the line to the next stop at the space port. “Customs is over there.” The white counters and silver rollers shone in the subdued lighting along the tracks.

         I handed my identity chip to the woman at the next counter. I laid my purse on the conveyer belt. A quick scan of the electronics in the silver coin shaped disc that held my identity and future hopes and dreams and she smiled. “TBD,” her voice was warm and welcoming. “To be determined is a good status to have. It means your future is in your hands,” she handed me back the small silver item, “literally,” she gave me a wink. Her dark eyes contrasted with her white uniform and black hair.

         “What brings you to our lovely planet?” the woman at the counter asked, as she entered the information into her computer terminal.

         “Music, what else?” I smiled. “I won a scholarship to Alpha Academy. Capiucho Seven is universally renowned for its acoustics. They are like none other in the known universe. I’ve heard it say that even ordinary musicians can bring tears to the eyes of the harshest critics. Take the finest performers off planet and they lose the magic.”

         “Six months may seem like a long time, but we hope you will get used to our unique conditions and decide to make this your permanent home.”

         “Thank you,” I told her. I flashed her my smile that I’ve been told was dazzling.

         “Luggage Claim is in the South Concourse.” The woman from the custom’s desk pointed toward my left. “Take the green path.” She pointed to the dark green tiles set into the floor. “You can take a complimentary cart, the moving sidewalk or stroll along the hall, catching glimpses of your new home.

         I set off at a slow stroll, watching the landscape out the window. When I almost tripped over a traffic cone blocking off a section of wet floor, I realized I needed to watch where I walked.

         The sky was a slightly lighter shade of blue than the earth. Fluffy clouds chased each other across the sky. It was one thing to understand intellectually that days were shorter here and seasons were measured in weeks, not months. I was anticipating the mild weather, winters seldom dipped below ten degrees Celsius and rarely above thirty two in the short summers.

         I went around the corner and caught my first glimpse of the famous trees, bent over almost at a ninety degree angle. Their wide, almost flat, oar shaped branches were adapted for climate conditions.

         My mind understood things like shorter planetary orbit times and ocean convections but it was an experience to see it played out before my eyes.

         I reached the baggage claim, inventoried my suitcases and boxes and watched them being loaded into the truck to take them to the college.

         A sharp pang of homesickness almost made me turn around and book passage on the next ship to the hub and right back to Earth. But the prospect of studying music with the finest musicians in known universe was enough to compel me to continue to the Higher Education Lounge.

         A pleasant, efficient young woman, probably a graduate student, met me and three other students in the lounge. She showed us the welcome buffet of local foods lain out in the cafeteria area.  I was too nervous to do more than nibble the bites of fruit. I feel instantly and lastingly in love with the thin, yellow fruits than were kept in their tightly packed clusters and draped over the serving table.

         Two more students joined us as we sat at the tables, sipping lattes made with the coffee they were attempting to cultivate on the far side of the larger planet. We chatted and played get to know you games. A little lame but I went along.

         Once the plates were in the recycling bin, we followed the perky student ambassador down the corridors to the school vans.

         “We’re going inside?” a girl asked. She was slender and dark and looked like she belonged in middle school, not the university. “How can we drive inside the building?”

       “We go inside, unless we want to go all over the city, tacking our way here and there,” Muffie, the Student Guide told her. “Roads are inside; trams are indoors, even trains.  Almost everything here is solar powered so there’s no worry about exhaust fumes. Except for the concourses, and sidewalks, which are above ground, everything else is below. It’s more efficient that way.  Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.” She pasted on a smile, gesturing to the door.

       The driver turned on the machine. “The spaceport is on the sunflower line.” Muffie gestured to the painted flowers on the tiles along the wall. “Not to worry. You’ll get used to it. You’ll be navigating by Earth flowers in no time.” I was beginning to think I was going to hate her before long. That was before I realized a lot of the performance was just an act and she was not stuck on permanent perky. But that’s another story.

       Muffie introduced the dudes to her male counterpart, who took the men to their dorms. I barely caught a glimpse of the world outside as we rode up the elevators. Since we were lowly freshmen, we were assigned rooms on the lower floors, just above the laundry and cafeteria. The upper floors were reserved for the upper level students who still chose to live in the dorms.

       We took a walking tour of the concourses. They basically formed a ring around the buildings on campus. No building was unconnected to the concourses but if you wanted to go across the campus, you had to face outside at some point or another.

       “Shall we try going outdoors?” Muffie put on her most winning smile. I was watching people go across campus almost bent over at the waist. “Link up,” she said. The three of us looked at her like she’d suddenly started speaking Greek…or Ancient English. “Link your arms in mine.” She gave us an exasperated look, resorting to demonstrating with our semi-willing arms.”

       We stepped through the double doors that seemed almost like an air lock. I felt propelled with a force of someone giving me a hard shove. We tacked our path, left, then right, and then left again, diagonally across the narrow space to the next building. Once we were inside the first set of doors, it felt like I could breathe again.

“Wasn’t that refreshing?” she enthused. But her eyes didn’t totally match her words.

“Only if you want to feel like you’ve been turned loose inside a giant dryer,” the slender girl name Monica said, scowling.

“You’ll get used to it,” Muffie said. “It will be like a sport and physical activity at the same time.”

“Yeah, if you want to feel slapped around,” the other student said, brushing her blond hair out of her eyes.

“I forgot,” Muffie said, “you’ll either want to get your hair cut or keep it tied back when you go outside. Haircuts are free for all the students on Wednesdays and Fridays.” I saw that all three of us were scowling.” I noticed that her hair was cut very short and curled around her head.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get used…”

“Stow it!” The thinner girl told her. “Inside your designer outdoor hat.” Muffie just blinked at her. 

“We’ll decide for ourselves if we get used to it.”