Endon, the ansible repairman
Instantaneous messaging across
vast expanses of space and time may involve quantum physics,
but your small wooden box of
wires and metal and plasteel
doesn’t.
Endon massages the knobs,
reorients the wires,
polishes with citrus solvent,
and attunes the hyperbaric frequencies
— all from your living room.
He knows his work helps close off the years
between planets, lost loves, and lonely grandparents.
That’s why, with one quick flick of his hydrospanner,
he gets you unlimited calling access to Cetauri 9.
Varlek, the creche lunch lady
Three generations of Anaresti youngsters have loved Varlek.
Loved the way she squeezes you tight on your decanting day,
even though you share it with a dozen other kids.
She’s the closest some will ever have to a maternal presence,
in this world without mothers.
An extra scoop of kelp cake can combat a bad day.
A purloined packet of sucra when the tea is flavorless.
And sometimes, an embrace with two warm arms that feels less like mandatory care and more like voluntary love.
Baha, the noodleboat tugship captain
Why are there faux rubber tires on Baha’s magnetic tugship?
Nautical tradition, they say. Tires haven’t touched
down planet-side in centuries.
Instead, his tires are an SOS beacon in the cyberpunky night
for the noodleboats hovering dead on repulsorlifts,
caught between
a brilliant LED billboard and
a 4,352-story
residence
tower.
Retired, Baha barters, mostly,
exchanging his powerful ship’s magnetic tow pulley
for greasy bowls of soup,
freeze-dried lo mein packets, and barrels of fermented soya
that he stows belowdecks between oil-stained buckets and
cannisters of expired engine lube.
With each tow, Baha knows that he helps keep people fed, and the
distance between a full stomach and a
lonely heart closes just a little.
