(excerpt from a novel)

Jum stood on the shore of a deep, dark lake. There was nothing to see for miles, save for a giant red sun floating on the surface of the water and a jagged silhouette of the mountains, which shored up the sky on all sides. Everything in her life had led to this moment. She was conceived with a purpose, raised and educated in preparation for the journey she was about to undertake. So why did she feel hesitant?

Since the V’ar mind travellers had possessed the first lifeforms on the Blue Planet, discovering a paradise not unlike the one that had existed on their home world, many of Jum’s kind dreamt of travelling there. But it was her uncle Hukh Ueq’om, and his team, who accepted the unenviable task of making the hundred and fifty cycles-long voyage, building the spacetime bubble as they went. Now the Blue Planet was a mere one and a half cycles away. However, sending even one person across was so energy-consuming, it had to be balanced with the needs of the resident V’ar population. The competition was fierce, and this time Jum was chosen, not because Hukh was her ancestor, as Ruyvex Vuno loved to point out to anyone who would listen, but because she outperformed all other contenders by successfully demonstrating transference of V’ar bionic organelles into resident alien mitochondria, and winning the xenogenetics prize. 

She shuddered at the thought of how close Ruyvex came to ruining her life. How stupid she had been for refusing to listen to anyone who warned her against falling in love. With all the arrogance of the young, she even accused her own mother of being bitter about Jum’s sire impregnating her and taking her job at the university. Ruyvex’s love was genuine, Jum argued passionately. He would never do such a thing to her. It was only after she was presented with the proof of Ruyvex’s planned deception, obtained through her mother’s network of gravidae, that she had dumped him, feeling like she had dodged a spear of grey goo.

Jum knew she could stay on the grim little planetoid that passed for the V’ar home world these days, but she was sick of avoiding Ruyvex, of breathing the same recycled air as him, of always watching her back. Having come so close to being condemned to the life of radical biological transformation that pregnancy inflicted on V’ar females, the thought of losing all bionic components and becoming ugly, misshapen and dependent on the mercy of others, still terrified her. She needed to turn a new leaf somewhere far away, where he would not be able to reach her.

Realising that a stray tear found its way under her second skin, Jum pressed the tips of her digits and sealed the leak. She could no longer bear this goodbye or the depressing memories. With the throbbing giant in the sky destined to explode any time between tomorrow and fifty thousand cycles in the future, every V’ar who had a chance to escape took it. She was lucky and had worked too hard to squander this opportunity, she decided, as she initiated transport to the launching bay.

 * * * 

Having integrated the routines necessary for surviving the isolation of the long space journey and troubleshooting system errors that might occur along the way, Jum entered the single-occupancy pod, which was made of the same self-replicating molecular machines that powered her own bionic circuits. This gave the walls and surfaces a grey, pearlescent quality, similar to her own skin. Viewed from the outside, the vessel was roughly the size of a large family habitat, but the internal area was no bigger than a bedroom. The rest was taken up by the sacks of undifferentiated organelles, nestled amongst the many specialised systems that were designed to provide containment, navigation and propulsion, as well as comprehensive self-monitoring, repair and life-support. 

Jum was never entirely comfortable with the fact that her tissues were used for the construction of all this. She was way too prone to melancholy and angst, which she usually took in her stride, but now the stakes had risen. She was about to enter a bubble outside space and time, where not even quantum entanglement communication was possible, and she hoped the pod wouldn’t let itself be led astray by fluctuating moods and self-defeating ruminations. Just to be sure, she deactivated her second skin and pressed her palm to the leathery wall, as if to soothe it. 

“Is there anyone you’d like to contact before take off?” The pod enquired as it floated steadily towards the departure gate.

Jum had opted for a private launch, disconnected from the fanfare and speculating masses. She looked around the desolate grey cavity, wondering if that had been a mistake. 

“No thank you, er…Do you have a name?”

“I have a serial number and a verified cell line designation,” the pod replied neutrally.

Jum shook her head. “No, that’s too impersonal. May I call you Hukh?”

A brief silence. “Designation changed to Hukh,” the pod responded, sounding pleased. 

Wondering if space psychosis could occur before the journey had even begun, Jum sat down on the spongy floor of the hibernation chamber and tapped into the broadcasting network. A quick browse through the news told her nothing she didn’t already know. Her appointment for this mission had been made controversial by Ruyvex’s lies, and everyone who was bitter and jealous about not being in her seat had jumped on the bandwagon to call out the Science Academy for nepotism, favouritism, and even anti-male prejudice. Jum laughed mirthlessly at the last one and switched off the news feed. 

The molecular machines in her optic nerves pinged the lunar outpost in a distant solar system, and her vision adjusted to reveal a planet covered in wispy clouds that streaked over the vast expanse of water and lush green land masses. Not being a gifted mind traveller, Jum still couldn’t fully comprehend what it felt like to go outside, without the second skin keeping her from freezing. To not be able to gaze directly at the sun, because of its violent brilliance. To dip her feet into crystal clear water and lie on the lush green vegetation. Before the grey goo incident, her species lived on a planet just like this one, and somewhere deep inside the organic parts of her body, the yearning for a different, more hospitable world stirred.  

The communication request came through, and the channel switched to the nervous-looking gravida, sitting primly in front of the screen. Behind her was a melange of drying canvases and works in progress, depicting bucolic scenes of their long-lost home world. No longer fit for work in mainstream society, now that her body rejected all bionic components, Jum’s mother opted to indulge her talent for painting. Art was a peculiar discipline in the sense that the perfection and precision bestowed by bionic integration made it feel sterile. It was the biological vulnerability and imperfection that V’ar society normally abhorred that was the magic ingredient required to touch the hearts of those who viewed it. So art was the only industry, apart from child-rearing, that gravidae excelled at, and despite maudlin themes, Jum’s mother had managed to distinguish herself and make a decent enough living out of it.

“Little bird,” the gravida said through tears, the bionic interface points on her skin that had long healed over, swelling with emotion. “I can’t believe this is really happening.”

“Mother, we talked about this,” said Jum. “I will contact you as soon as I arrive. It won’t be too different from how things are now, when we mostly talk through communication screens anyway.”

“I know,” the gravida said, wringing her hands. “I am so proud and happy for you, daughter. But I’m so sad that I will never hold you in my arms again.”

“Mum…” Jum said, her voice choking up. She wanted to object, but she couldn’t find the words. Her mother was right. It was improbable either of them would be approved for another journey, and even if they were, her mother’s life expectancy was negligible compared to the fully bionic V’ar. She would not survive the trip.

The old gravida wiped the tears from her eyes. “Sorry, darling. I’m fine, really. How long before I can speak with you again?”

“One and a half cycles.”

“I don’t think I can bear not knowing what happened to you for that long.”

“Everything will be fine.” Jum smiled bravely. “You know me, I’m pretty determined. I’ll get there one way or another.”

The old gravida laughed, her face twisting into an ugly grimace, but to Jum it was the most beautiful sight in the world. As her heart swelled, her optic nerve captured the image for safekeeping. 

“Take off imminent, please terminate all communications with the base,” Hukh, the pod interface, said.

“I’m sorry, Mum, I have to go, I love you.”

“I love you too, baby! Have a safe journey and call me as soon as you get-”

The image deteriorated in Jum’s vision, and then she was all alone, cut off entirely from her origin and her destination. 

The silence was broken by a thunderous surge, followed by a queasy sensation as the pod got sucked into the spacetime bubble. Quickly, the craft stabilised and the silence returned. 

Jum checked the telemetry. The stars and coordinates that were on display moments before were gone. All that remained was a diagram showing the distance to the Blue Planet and the position of the stationary craft along the bubble, as it rippled through the fabric of spacetime.