His main character, though... Alistair flipped the page and, not for the first time, shook his head. The underlying idea behind the whole book was simple enough: his main character embarks on an odyssey of sorts, trying to prove once and for all that real, non-artificial beauty still exists in the world. It seems like a foolish quest to many of the people around his main character, but his main character is undeterred.

  So, his character, like Don Quixote of old, sets out in search of a beauty so marvelous, so unbelievable, it can touch the very depths of the human soul.

  A thought tugged at him. “If they’re Don Quixote, do they need a Sancho Panza?” He picked up the fountain pen to scribble that thought down and, realizing his mistake, set it aside for a moment and opened the drawer of the desk to pull out one of his other pens to make that note in the margin of the page. He set the pen down and reached over to where he had placed the case for the fountain pen, placed it in front of him, and flipped it open. He picked up the fountain pen and turned it over in his hands. “Goodbye,” he told it. Then, he placed it back in the case and closed it.

  He idly flipped through a few more pages of his manuscript before deciding to put it back in the box for the day. He was too distracted and he didn’t want to force anything.

  A soft chime from the console on the desk indicated that he had a message waiting. He opened it and smiled. It was a testimony to how concerned Janney had been about his progress on the book that she had come in person to Mars, but now, having seen him safely en route to Titan to finish it, she had returned to her usual method of communication: short, sharp blocks of text that bore a strong resemblance to the telegrams of ancient Terra. This one was particularly good:

  HOW IS MY FAVORITE AUTHOR DOING?

  SEND UPDATE ON BOOK WHEN POSSIBLE

  Alistair smiled and, for a moment, considered sending her back a full vid-chat, but decided instead to reply in kind, knowing it would probably annoy her. He hit reply and typed out:

  I’M FINE. ENJOYING THE TRIP.

  BOOK IS GOOD.

  Then, with a chuckle, he hit send. Then, he pushed the chair back from the desk and went and made himself a cup of tea. Once the tea was secured, he padded back over to the long couch and, wrapping himself in his blanket, sat down and took in the view. There was more to see now, as they traveled deeper into the asteroid belt.

  He hadn’t known much about the belt before his departure from Mars. The shipboard library had given him some basic details: they were passing through the Hungaria group and approaching the inner main belt and from what he could see, the place had earned its title of ‘humanity’s foundry.’ Mining had been what drove humanity there, to begin with, but as the first generation ships had begun to be built, it quickly became apparent that the best place to build them was where the materials were located, so shipyards had sprung up. Miners had been followed by engineers and support staff and soon ringworlds were carved out of the black to house them all. A few of the bigger, more stable asteroids had been hollowed out for habitation as well: Ceres, Vesta, Pallas, and Hygiea were the largest, but mainly, the belt was where humanity made its ships to go outwards toward the stars.

  So, Alistair drank his tea and watched the asteroid belt pass by. The navigational buoys along the main shipping line blink their warning lights gently to keep traffic headed to the outer solar system on its prescribed path. He saw shipyards, a beautiful, impossibly huge generation ship slowly springing into being, rivet by rivet, girder by girder. A ringworld, spinning like a jeweled necklace in the night. He spent most of the afternoon that way, his tea long since finished and the guide on the ship’s dining options and menus idly read dozens of times over. He was thinking about taking a nap and then, Aleesha called.

  “Hey, Dad!”

  “Hi, honey!” Alistair replied after a moment. The communication relays that were common in the inner solar system started to become a little more sparse once you got into the asteroid belt. It was something that the governments of the solar system were working on, but their calls would start to get more cumbersome the further out he got. “What time is it down there? You look like you’re ready for breakfast.”

  “I’m up early. Katya is still asleep.” Her face fell. “I know Pops’ birthday is coming up and it’s just... hard.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” Alistair replied. He smiled, sadly. “I was always terrible at remembering his birthday.”

  Aleesha smiled. “You were,” she said. “He would always tell me what to have you buy for him, you know that?”

  Now Alistair laughed. “He did? That doesn’t surprise me.”

  “It was because of the cheese year, you remember?” Aleesha’s smile broadened.

  “I’m never going to live that down, am I?” Alistair chuckled. “In my defense, he liked that restaurant and he spent the entire night talking about that cheese.”

  “I don’t know why,” Aleesha replied. “I remember you had some shipped up from Terra and then when we opened it, it broke the air filters it stunk so bad.”

  Alistair laughed. “He wanted to be so mad at me for that, but we all wound up laughing about it.”

  “Dad,” Aleesha hesitated. “Do the little things get you?”

  “Yes,” Alistair replied. “I was writing today and you remember the fountain pen he got me?”

  Aleesha nodded.

  “The nib broke and I just... I wasn’t expecting it, you know? I thought I was getting better. It... was more manageable, but I broke down.”

  “Oh, Dad,” Aleesha said. “You okay? I know you’re all alone up there and I worry about you.”

  “I called my therapist, right away,” Alistair said. “He was surprised to hear from me because I was never a big therapy”—he made air quotes around the word—“person, but we had a good talk. He called it a ‘tiny goodbye.’ When the big grief is over, you’ll find these small moments that make you feel sad now and again. A long chain of tiny goodbyes.” He trailed off into silence and, for a moment, neither of them spoke.

  “I like that, Dad,” Aleesha said. “I actually,” she held the coffee mug up, “went and found his favorite coffee.”

  Alistair smiled. “The stuff from New Orleans? With the chicory in it?”

  “Yep, that’s the one. It didn’t make me sad though,” she said. “It just reminded me of all those mornings we had together. It’s kind of the smell of my childhood.” She pursed her lips. “I am sorry about the fountain pen though.”

  “Me too, kiddo,” Alistair replied. “I just wish I could remember where he got it from. I hated the damn thing at first, but now I just can’t imagine writing longhand with anything else.”

  Aleesha frowned. “Wasn’t it... that trip we took to...” she hissed in irritation. “I can never keep the names of the old American states straight. Um... Arizona? No! New Mexico!”

  “You know,” Alistair replied. “I think you might be right.” He frowned, trying to recall the many vacations that Stephen had always insisted on them taking. “There was... a pueblo?”

  “Yes!” Aleesha replied. “It was north of the capital city a little bit and,” she sighed. “I wish I could remember the name of the place. It was artsy and Pops loved the one painter who did the flowers.”

  “Taos?” Alistair said suddenly, still frowning.

  “That’s it!” Aleesha said. “I bet that’s it! And I bet I could figure out which antique store Pops got that pen from!”

  “Oh, honey, would you?” Alistair asked, “I would love that. I’m so glad we pieced at least this much of the mystery together.”

  “Me too, Dad,” Aleesha replied. “I just hope they still sell fountain pens.”

  “Honey, if you can pinpoint it down to the exact store, that would be amazing,” Alistair said. “But don’t feel like you’ve got to look through every store in the place. If you can get coffee from New Orleans, I can take a fountain pen from Taos. It might not be an exact replacement, but it’ll mean just as much to me.”

  “All right, Dad,” Aleesha replied with a smile. “I am going to see what I can find though. Send me a picture of the pen when you get a minute.”

  “I will, honey,” Alistair promised.

  “I should probably finish my coffee and start getting ready for my day,” Aleesha said with a touch of regret in her voice.

  “No worries, honey,” Alistair replied with a grin. “I promised my therapist that I would leave my cabin and go out for dinner tonight. He thought it’d be good for me,” he rolled his eyes.

  “I think so too,” Aleesha said. She glanced away from the monitor for a moment. “I think Katya might finally be getting up Dad, so I should probably—”

  “Go, go,” Alistair said. “Baby’s doing okay and everything though?”

  “So far, so good,” Aleesha replied with a smile.

  “Talk to you soon, honey,” Alistair said.

  “Bye, Dad,” Aleesha replied.

  ~

  The doors to the “dining emporium” hissed open and Alistair nearly burst out laughing. The Pilipintu wasn’t that big of a ship, so he had been curious what exactly the ship’s informational material had meant when it had referred to a “dining emporium” but apparently, what they had meant was “ship’s bar” but had wanted to be fancy about it.

  It was on the lowest level of the ship and as Alistair stepped through the doors, he had to admit that even if it wasn’t quite at the level of a “dining emporium,” they had picked the right place for people to eat. The bar and kitchen dominated the center of the room, forming an island lined with stools and a beautiful, polished wooden bar top. It was something of a cupola-type area, as the entire room was lined with windows that gave breathtaking views for people to look at and, unsurprisingly, the tables and booths closest to the windows were all occupied.

  “You want a table?”

  Alistair blinked, for he had been so engrossed in looking at the place, he hadn’t noticed the waitress come up to him.

  “I’m sorry, um, I can sit anywhere?” he said.

  “We can get you at the bar,” the waitress replied. “But it’ll be a bit if you want a table or booth.”

  “The bar is fine,” Alistair replied.

  “Help yourself to any open place and one of the bartenders will get you set up with a menu,” the waitress replied.

  “I will, thank you.”

  The waitress bustled away and Alistair walked up to the bar, considering his seating options. There weren’t any bad views in the place, given the windows that surrounded the room, but after a moment he decided on a seat that had decent views of both sides of the room and stepped up slightly to slide himself onto the stool.

  Alistair had never been a big bar person, neither had Stephen for that matter. He thought about it for a moment and realized that he wasn’t entirely sure if the two of them had ever been at a bar together at all. Restaurants, sure. Bottles of wine and little cafes with nice views of the Marineris Canyon back home. They had been quiet, conversational drinkers. Whether it was Stephen’s love of old Terran entertainment or just general cultural zeitgeist, Alistair wasn’t sure, but bars seemed like they were made for serious drinkers.

  The bartender ambled up. “What can I get you?”

  “Do you have anything non-alcoholic?”

  “Sure,” the bartender said. ‘We’re fully equipped with new sythahol options if you want to go that route. Otherwise, we’ve got tonics, cordials, juices, sodas—everything you can want.”

  “A fruit juice, perhaps?” Alistair said. “You have anything fresh?”

  The bartender grimaced. “Guava, mango, and strawberry are all I’ve got for fresh right now. I’m hoping we can take on some more when we lay over at Callisto before moving onto the outer solar system.”

  “I don’t know if I’ve ever tasted guava before,” Alistair said.

  “Guava it is!” the bartender said. “We can make it still or put a little seltzer in it to give it some bubbles if you like?”

  “A sparkling guava?” Alistair grinned.

  “Of course,” the bartender grinned back. “It can only be champagne guava if it comes from the right region of French Guiana back on Terra.”

  Alistair laughed. “All right, you sold me. I’ll take one sparkling guava.”

  “Coming right up,” the bartender replied.

  “Oh, and can I get a menu ,too?” Alistair asked.

  “Sure!” With that, the bartender ambled away.

  Alistair settled back in his seat and waited patiently, drinking in the view. They were getting deeper into the asteroid belt now and they would transit past Ceres in a few days. In the meantime, they were passing a shipyard and he could see the keels of three-generation ships sparkling in the distance. There was a cloud of activity around them, but Alistair knew they were construction shuttles and robot hoppers and everything needed to build the ship.

  He watched for a while, lost in thought, as the shipyard (there were keels visible on both sides of the shipping lanes, he saw) faded to stern and then the ringworlds came into view. There were gasps from around the room and immediately, Alistair saw why: the completed ringworld was impossibly large—a ring mottled with emerald and blue that dwarfed everything around it—but next to it, its twin was slowly being spun out of an asteroid.

  “Ridiculous, isn’t it?”

  Alistair turned and saw a lady about his age, her braids flecked with gray, dressed in a long colorful robe.

  “What?” Alistair asked.

  The lady nodded toward the window where the ringworld was starting to fall to stern. “That... thing. Seems ridiculous that we can do things like that, doesn’t it?”

  “It’s beautiful, though.”

  “Is it?” The lady slipped onto the stool next to him. “Did everyone ‘oooooh’ and ‘aaaaah’ because it’s beautiful or because it’s just so... damn... big?”

  Alistair considered that. “You know, I don’t know. These days, does anyone know what beauty is? Or have we been just acculturated to react to things when we’re in groups?”

  “Ah, so they just ‘oooooooh’ and ‘aaaaaah’ because that’s what’s expected of them?” The lady grinned. “I thought we had moved past that kind of thing a couple of centuries back.”

  Alistair shrugged. “It’s like high school. You know, that wild and crazy time that we all view through rose-colored glasses because it was when we ‘found ourselves’ and ‘discovered who we were’ when in reality most of us just wanted to be like everyone else.”

  The lady extended a hand. “I’m Prudence, by the way.”

  Alistair reached over and shook her hand. “Alistair.”

  “You weren’t waiting on anyone were you?” Prudence said, suddenly, looking abashed. “I’m sorry, I just sort of sat down and-”

  “No, no, please,” Alistair said. “I could use the company.”

  “As could I, to be quite honest,” Prudence replied. “So, you didn’t think it was beautiful though?”

  Alistair shrugged again. “It’s not the beauty that gets me,” he said. “It’s the scale of it. The things we can do these days, it’s... astonishing. I hope it never stops being astonishing to me.”

  “But it wasn’t beautiful?”

  “In a manufactured kind of way,” Alistair admitted. “But that’s the interesting question about concepts of beauty these days. Do we have to make them for ourselves or can we unplug from the technology to just live in a moment and experience real beauty for once?”

  “Real beauty,” Prudence mused. “I like that.”

  The bartender returned with Alistair’s drink and a menu. “Here you go, sir.”

  Alistair took the drink and the menu and the bartender raised an expectant eyebrow at Prudence, who said, promptly: “Gin and tonic.”

  “Coming right up,” the bartender replied and ambled away again. Prudence nodded towards the menu that Alistair was holding. “Mind if I take a peek at that when you’re done?”

  “Not at all,” Alistair replied. “You been here before? Anything good?”

  “The chicken sandwich isn’t bad,” she said. “Tasted like real chicken when I had it the other day, but I haven’t been coming down that often, to be honest. Too many people.”

  “Same,” Alistair replied. “My therapist made me promise to come down and mingle with my fellow humans.”

  Prudence chuckled. “How are we doing so far?”

  “I think I might venture out again,” Alistair replied with a chuckle of his own. “The irritating thing is that he wasn’t wrong, either.”

  “They usually aren’t,” Prudence said. “So, Alistair, what is it that you do? Other than contemplate the meaning of beauty in our age of miracles and wonders?”

  “I’m a writer,” Alistair said.

  Prudence looked impressed. “A real human one? With books and everything?”

  “We’re out there,” Alistair grinned. “What about you?”

  “I’m an astromycologist.”

  “A what now?”

  Prudence rolled her eyes with a smile that reassured him this wasn’t the first time she had gotten this reaction. “I grow space mushrooms,” she said. “Or mushrooms in space, whichever you prefer.”

  The bartender returned with Prudence’s gin and tonic and looked at them both expectantly. “Anything to eat?”

  “I’m told,” Alistair nodded towards Prudence, “that the chicken sandwich is decent.”

  “It is,” the bartender grinned. “You want fries with that?”

  “Of course,” Alistair replied.

  “Everything on it?”

  “Yes, please- except...what does everything entail?”

 

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