The Anomaly

      For twelve days, Seyla had stopped spinning. The planet drifted in orbit around the twin stars Solaris and Helios, but always with the same face to the suns. This astrophysical Anomaly had not only toppled the prevalent theory of gravity, but had relegated half the globe to permanent night, the other half to perpetual day.

           The light side of Seyla faced certain doom. The globe had ceased to rotate during the middle of summer, and the blazing glare from the twin suns was now responsible for inducing mass insomnia in the night-starved people, who had been named the Populations of Light. Seyla’s light side was threatened with drought. Water rationing was already being discussed and Almeida, the Queen-Empress of Seyla, knew the desperate thirst of the light-side inhabitants would soon lead to civil strife as they competed for fresh water—which was already of questionable quality and scarce on the planet years before it had stopped spinning.

           The Populations of Night faced their own dilemmas. Darkness-induced mood disorders had destabilized many of Seyla’s night-ensconced inhabitants. What could one do? Stay indoors as much as possible to avoid the “lunatic deviants,” as Almeida had taken to calling those constituents of the Populations of Night who resorted to crime as a means to cope with the psychological pressures of living in a perennial penumbra. The massive amounts of energy consumed to keep the darkened lands’ industries going and cities lit threatened to deplete the world’s already scant fuel reserves.

           As inhabitants of Seyla clamored for the edge zones of the planet, where permanent dawn and dusk provided relief for those who ventured there, the mass migrations contributed to the social distress on the newly divided world. Something needed to be done, and the Oracle was consulted.  

           Seyla had stopped rotating on its axis when the imperial palace was enveloped in darkness. In the palace, Almeida had given birth to her third child. The planetary citizenry had rejoiced and celebrated the official announcement of the sex of Almeida’s unborn child. The Queen-Empress’ two previous children had been male, which had left the matriarchy with no successors, but with the birth of Reyna, Seyla’s supreme monarch had secured the continued rule of her lineage. The arrival of the new royal progeny promised continued peace and prosperity for Seylans. The coincidence of the birth of the baby girl and the cessation of planetary rotation was declared auspicious.

***

           “You have had an enlightened tenancy of the throne, Queen-Empress,” the Oracle said in their non-binary, machine-generated voice. You have been patient, tolerant, and lenient where other Queen-Empresses have not. Seylans love you.”

           “What has caused The Anomaly?” Almeida asked.

           The Oracle approached her from within the confines of their mechanized wheelchair, and with their usual impassive facial expression, continued, “You have conducted no wars, as previous rulers have. You have banished most serious illnesses and increased life expectancy. You have ensured material plenty for all.”  

           “Is Reyna the cause of the planet’s static orbit?” Almeida queried again, impatient with the Oracle’s praises.

           “Seylans have prospered. They have been fruitful and multiplied as the sands of the growing deserts. Seyla itself, however…” Here the Oracle paused.

           Almeida knew where the Oracle was going next with their discourse.

           “Seyla itself, is in danger. A meager and precarious portion of its original plant and animal species remain. The unchecked efforts to extract and fabricate fuels has upset the balance of Seylan nature. Material plenty is causing the planet to choke on the by-products of industrial production. As Seylans have multiplied, similar to the sands of the dry lands, so has the pernicious waste on the planet.”

           “I have not had the fortitude to enact strict population management on Seyla,” Almeida said. “Many generations of my predecessors taught that there is no greater joy than the bringing of a new child to the world. Children are hope embodied. They bring the best out in parents, in siblings, in people, in civilizations. Joyful children are the guarantee of a joyful future.”

           “Queen-Empress,” the Oracle responded, “Seylans have been under the spell of the joyful child cult your progenitors lavishly promoted for centuries. They regard and defend no right with as much determination as that which guarantees a joyful life to as many children as those Seylans of reproductive age are willing to have. The only way to return the cycles of night and day to the planet is by making a draconian population management decree.”

           “Seylans will never agree to it,” said Almeida.

           “They will only do so if their illustrious Queen-Empress leads by example and makes an unforgettable sacrifice,” said the digitized voice of the Oracle. “The Anomaly will end once the planet is rid of Reyna and a one-child decree is made.” 

           The sacrifice will not only be unforgettable, thought Almeida, most Seylans will consider it unforgiveable.

***

           For the duration of what had been formerly three days and three nights, the sunlight- deprived Almeida and her advisers, anguished over how to resolve the dilemma posed by the life of the royal newborn. Killing Reyna would lead to massive unrest, Seylans would call for Almeida’s head, the reign of peaceful plenty would come to a revolutionary and catastrophic end. Two centuries of enlightened rule would end in bloodshed and chaos.

           Almeida’s junior advisers proposed faking an accidental death for the child, leaving it in the middle of one of Seyla’s shrinking wildernesses, or abandoning Reyna in a city teeming with adherents of the joyful child cult, where she would readily and lovingly be adopted. 

           The Queen-Empress knew, however, that the Oracle did not mince words. They had said the planet needed to be rid of the royal infant.

           The Queen-Empress’ most senior adviser, Mathilde, came up with the solution. 

            “Despite decades of attempts, Seylans, inhabitants of the eighth planet, have not been able to land on, Aegypticus, the ninth planet from our twin suns. As a memento of this continued effort, as a gesture of hope and goodwill, Reyna must be delivered to Aegytpicus.”   

           Almeida tore at her hair and savagely beat her breast from grief, but also from realization that this was the most reasonable and least cruel of her advisers’ suggestions.

***

           In response to the grave and transparent declaration of the child’s immanent ejection from their world, all Seylans communed in mourning.

           Costly preparations were made. There was not a single adult Seylan who did not want to belong to the crew of the spacecraft or be one of the royal child’s wetnurse attendants on the interplanetary voyage. The Queen-Empress’ subjects knew the survival of Reyna was as unlikely as the continued existence of civilized Seyla if the planet did not begin rotating again. All Seylans resigned themselves to the tragedy, and those who were not yet parents vowed to commemorate Reyna’s departure into the unknown by vowing to have no more than one child each.

          On the fortieth day of the Anomaly, as the spacecraft with its precious cargo rumbled up and out of the Seylan atmosphere, planetary rotation resumed. Balance was restored. Dusk gradually became night again for the Populations of the Light, and dawn steadily became day again for the Populations of the Night.