Sa'Lou Under Earth

Year 2100

Luke stared out the shuttle window into the twinkling expanse. The stars didn’t interest him. He had spent the last decade under the stars. Buried under a layer of methane fog, insulated in a spacesuit that pumped oxygen, he hadn’t been able to see them while mining. But back on the satellite, when the work was finished, he could see the stars, glittering nightlights outside his sleep-pod window.

The intercom softly crackled. “Attention passengers, we are reaching our final destination. The time is approximately three o’clock pm…”

Below Luke’s window, the planet was approaching. A leaden gray ocean covered most of it. The few landmasses were cracked, arid lumps. Like puzzle pieces that had been smashed by a drunk with a hammer. Maybe they had fit together once, but now they were broken and scattered.

The little girl in the seat next to Luke, whom he had been ignoring all trip, had a holo-book on her lap. “Mommy, when we visit Grandpa, can we see one of these?” She pushed a button and a flickering, transparent picture cast out of the book. “Isn’t it pretty?”

“That’s a peacock, Dear,” said her mother. “Those are extinct.”

The intercom spoke again. “On behalf of all of us at Aeolus Shuttle, we thank you for flying with us today and enjoy your stay on Earth.”

“I’m not going back to Earth!”

Dr. Mkali’s face didn’t change. “Luke…”

“I’ll stay on the satellite! I’ll work as a mechanic!”

“We both know that’s not possible,” she said. “The company would never allow it.”

Luke stared at her. “Can you run another test? Maybe the results were₋”

“Are you questioning my aptitude as a doctor?” Dr. Mkali interrupted sharply. She placed a disc on the desk between them. In a moment, lab results were cast into the air for Luke to see.

“Hydro-methane poisoning,” she said. “Most Neptune miners quit before three years. You’ve been at it for ten! Ten!”

“I need the money,” said Luke.

“What you need is to get off the planet,” said Dr. Mkali. “It’ll take a year for the medicine to flush out all the poison from your blood. In the meantime, your career in space is over. Go home.”

Luke groaned from a place deep in his soul. “I swore I’d never go back.”

Dr. Mkali looked at him with something like sympathy. “Titan’s been terraformed for twenty years now. Why not settle there? They say it’s just like Earth before the waters rose.”

Luke stood up, looking at the satellite doctor for the last time. “Titan’s for rich people.”

If only he’d had another year. Another year of work would’ve been enough for a small apartment on Titan. But even the smallest, closet-sized Titan apartments cost eleven years’ worth of savings. And then what? What job could a Neptune diamond miner hope to get on a Saturn moon? So now, just two days after that visit with Dr. Mkali, he was on his way back to Earth, the refuge of the forgotten.

The upper layer of Neptune averaged -350⁰. In their heated suits, Luke and the other miners would trudge through the icy slush, weighted down to keep them from being ripped apart by the winds, until they reached the pit leading down to the molten core. There, they would rappel down, and the suits would now be refrigerated with icy air as they excavated the glittering diamonds that rained from the methane clouds.

Luke was used to hot. He was used to cold. But his body still felt the shock when he stepped off the shuttle into the furnace of Earth.

Luke did the only thing he could do. He ran to the nearest trash can and threw up.

Flies buzzed around his head as he expelled the shuttle lunch into the dented canister. Passing people glared at him. “Drunk…” he heard one woman hiss.

I hate Earth, thought Luke.

Outside of the station, Luke caught a taxi. On Titan, he’d heard, the cars all hovered above the ground using magnetic levitation. This one still had four tires rooted to the road.

As Luke slid into the back seat, the driver noted his blotchy, sweaty face. “First time on Earth?”

“No, not₋”

The driver tried to hand him a blue capsule. “Here, take this.”

“Whoa! I don’t want your drugs!” Luke snapped.

“Take it easy,” said the driver. “It’s a Thermoxen supplement for regulating your body temperature. Swallow it before you get heat stroke.”

Luke still had the bottle he’d bought during the layover on Phobos. The water was circling the bottom and tepid warm. Still, he chugged it down with the Thermoxen.

The driver had already put the car into gear. “Where are you headed, Off Worlder?”

Luke grimaced. “Sa’Lou. The old rail station.”

There were only a handful of settlements on what was once called the North American continent. The lucky ones, the ones with money, work, a place to go, they got the hell off the planet. They went to Titan, got jobs mining or transporting. They left and didn’t look back. The others, the ones who were stuck, they went underground. In Den, in Mempy, in Ott. But everyone knew out of all the settlements, Sa’Lou was the worst, the dirtiest, and poorest of them all.

By the time the taxi dropped Luke off at the entrance, the Thermoxen had kicked in. He was still hot, but he no longer felt as though he was standing naked in the middle of a great oven.

Once upon a time, the great archway leading into the station must’ve looked grand, with its golden letters above the doors beckoning visitors. No longer. Most of them were lost to time. S A L O U was all that remained. The interior must’ve shone bright white, like the snow he’d once seen in a holo-book. Pa had told him that, in old days, the windows were stained glass and at night, picture lights danced on the domed ceiling. Once, Pa said, more than a hundred thousand people had travelled through this station every day. Luke doubted there were even a thousand people left on Earth, let alone a hundred thousand.

Making his way down into the tunnel, he didn’t need a light. Even after ten years, he still knew the way. He still knew the smell, musty, heavy, metallic. And he knew when the temperature started to slightly cool that he had reached the underworld of Sa’Lou.

It was still warm underground, stagnant and claustrophobic, but preferrable to the hellfire that was topside. He passed by tents, ramshackle houses, women picking laundry off clotheslines. A few children ran by in the street.

One stopped and pointed at him. “Stranger!” Turning to the others, she called, “It’s a stranger!”

As they turned and fled, Luke realized none of them were older than eight. In the ten years that he’d been on Neptune, babies had been born. Babies had grown up. Life in Sa’Lou went on and on, even if it looked and smelled exactly the same.

It was seven when Luke finally arrived at the small house built from green bricks. Propped against the outside was a large wooden sign: KOCHAV’S FIGURINES AND ANTIQUES

The same as the day he and Pa painted it and placed it by the door. Except now the paint was peeling and the wood was splintering. Luke let himself inside without knocking. In the front room, dolls covered every surface. Porcelain, wood, brass, plush. Large, medium, small. Human, animal, creatures he didn’t know. Clowns, princesses, babies. There was a tin elephant that Luke recognized from the day he last walked out, the same price tag around its dusty neck.

A woman sat in the far corner. She was as large and soft looking as an old mattress, brown hair piled on her head. Her eyes were closed as she waved a paper fan in front of her face.

Luke felt something hot behind his eyes as he watched her. “Hello?”

Finally noticing him, the woman stood up. “Welcome to Kochav’s,” she said. “What are you in the market for? Birthday present? Anniversary? Just a fun trinket to perk up the room?” She held up a curly haired doll dressed in a top hat and overcoat. “Charming, isn’t he? If you look in his pocket, he comes with a little horn.” Seeing the look on Luke’s face, she quickly put the doll down. “No good? Maybe something softer?” She picked up a painted doll with teardrop shaped eyes. “This would be perfect for your daughter, Sir.”

“Listen₋”

“We have some ceramic teddy bears,” she interrupted. “The cutest little bears you’ve ever seen! We’ve got a baseball bear, and a bathtub bear, and a₋”

“Ma!” shouted Luke.

Startled, she dropped the doll in her hand. Luke caught it before it hit the floor and shattered. She was staring at him now, finally silent as her hands covered her mouth. “Yeah Ma, it’s me.”

“You’re not,” she whispered. “You’re not my Luke. You’re…you’re too thin.”

“You lose weight up in space.”

“Your hair.” She reached up to touch his head. “You’re completely gray. My Luke is too young to be gray.”

“Stress of the work, maybe just premature aging,” said Luke, catching her hand. “But I’m Luke. And I’m…back.”

She searched his face, dark eyes examining every inch. Then with a cry, she collapsed onto his shoulder. “Luke!”

“Oh Ma, don’t cry.”

“Don’t cry? My son is back! Oh Lukey-Boy, it’s been ten years! Ten years wondering and hoping and…” She straightened up. “Well, you’re here now and that’s all that matters.” Grasping his arm, she pulled him past the wooden counter, past the dolls, and into the back room. The home. “Carroll! Carroll! He’s home! Our Lukey-Boy is home!”

There was a table in the middle of the room. Hunched over it was a man with salt and pepper hair that was receding backward, making the top half of his head look quite large. His blue-gray eyes were focused on a doll with a white hat, so tiny it fit in the palm of his hand. With a cloth, he dabbed at a smudge on her plastic skirt. “Manufacture date 1991,” he murmured. “One hundred and nine years. Have you been lonely all this time? What happened to your sisters?”

“Carroll!” Ma took the doll away. “Look at our son!”

“That’s not our son. Our son has brown hair.”

How much had he changed in ten years? Even his own parents didn’t know him. “Pa, look at my…” Pa had never been good at looking people in the eye. “Look at my face. It’s me, Luke.”

Pa didn’t say a word. “Remember, you used to tell me stories, about before the waters rose? About the big metal arch?”

“Knocked it down for the steel,” Pa muttered. “To make spaceships.”

“That’s right,” said Luke. “You told me that story.”

“And then you got on a spaceship,” said Pa. “And went away.”

Silence hung over the room.

“I’m going to cook up a feast for your return!” Ma announced. “It won’t be as fancy as what you ate on Neptune…”

“I ate on the satellite, Ma,” said Luke. “I worked on Neptune.”

She continued, “I’m going to make a cowpea stew! And look what I’ve been saving!” Shuffling over to a small box, she opened the lid and pulled something out.

“Is that bacon?” said Luke. Ma nodded happily. “Where did you get bacon?”

“Traded for it! It’s not real bacon, just a meat substitute. But it’ll still taste good in the stew!”

Pa’s face changed. He turned around. “Traded? What do you mean traded?”

“Hubert came into the shop,” said Ma. “He wanted a toy for the new baby, so I gave him a stuffed bear for the bacon.”

Pa stood. “Which bear?”

“Pa, what does it matter?” said Luke.

“Which bear?” Pa said again.

“It had a yellow tag in the ear, red letters,” said Ma. “But the bacon, Carroll₋”

Pa looked like he’d been kicked. “Zotty Bear, manufacture date 1951,” he moaned. “Lori, you traded a Steiff!”

“A Steiff!” said Luke. “What’s a Steiff? She got us meat!”

Pa sauntered to the door. “Where are you going?” asked Ma.

“I’m going to find Hubert,” he said. “I’m going to get the Steiff back.”

Ma slunk down at the table. “We have so many bears, so many dolls. I didn’t think…” Luke was about to say something when his watch gave a sharp beep. “What’s that?”

“It’s time for my medicine,” said Luke. He unzipped his pack and fished around until the silver case was in reach.

“Medicine?” Ma asked.

Luke had already opened the lid. Fifty-two syringes were lined up inside. “Hydro-methane poisoning. Doctor says I need one shot a week for the next year.”

Ma’s face fell. “So that’s why you really came back.”

Luke felt the words. Guilt, like a punch to the heart. Ma stood. “Well, I’ll start dinner. I hope Hubert doesn’t come asking for his bacon back.”

Luke watched as she measured beans into a cup. The same Ma, the same kitchen. The same front room crammed to the corners with garbage that nobody cared about except Pa. “Why do you still live like this?” said Luke.

“Like what, Lukey-Boy?”

“Why do you still live in this hovel with all this…junk?”

Ma looked at Luke as though she’d never seen him before. “This is our home, Luke,” she said quietly.

Fifty-two syringes lay in front of him. Fifty-two vials of life saving medicine. “Ma, do you have money?”

“We get by,” she said.

Luke stared at the syringes. “I can’t get you and Pa to Titan,” he said. “But if I sell my medicine, plus all my savings…I can get you two to Ott.”

Ma turned around, eyes wide. “Ott?”

“It’s the best of all the settlements,” said Luke. “You’ll still live underground, but the climate’s not so hot, there’s more opportunities for work, indoor plumbing. Wouldn’t you like an indoor toilet, Ma? A real shower?”

Ma slid down in the chair next to him. “But your medicine. What if you don’t take your medicine?” Luke didn’t answer. “No! I won’t! Not for a hundred showers!”

Luke grasped her arm. “Ma, you deserve better than this! You deserve better than a life surrounded by garbage!”

“Garbage?” Pa was standing in the doorway. Neither of them had heard him come in.

“Pa!”

“Who do you think you are!” He turned and stormed out.

“You shouldn’t have said that,” said Ma. “You know how he gets about his treasures.” Luke stood. “Now where are you going?”

“I’m going to talk to him,” said Luke.

“Don’t make it worse,” pleaded Ma.

Someone, thought Luke. Someone had to talk some sense into his father. He’d grown up surrounded by piles of toys and figurines. For years, he’d watched the old man obsessively catalogue every detail. He could recite an entire holo-history’s worth about something called a Kewpie doll but forget to come in for dinner. I’ve got to get him to understand, thought Luke. Things have got to change.

Luke found Pa sitting in the dark front room. “What happened to Hubert and the Steiff, Pa?” asked Luke.

“I was just mad,” said Pa. “I’m not going to take a toy away from a baby.”

Luke crouched in front of him. “Look Pa. I’ve got a plan. I can get you and Ma out of here, up north to Ott.” Pa didn’t answer. “Will you look me in the eye? Please? For once in your life?”

“Who do you think you are?” said Pa, eyes fastened to the floor. “You come back after ten years, judging us, judging how we live, making plans without even asking! You never even called!”

“How would I call you?” said Luke. “You don’t have electricity for a Vid-Screen! Do you know who does have electricity? Ott!”

“You think we live in garbage!” Pa said. “It’s not garbage!”

“Pa, look at all this stuff! Really look at it!” said Luke. “No one wants any of this!”

“Well they should!” said Pa.

“Pa, how many customers do you and Ma get in the shop a day? A week? A year?” Luke picked up a furry grey monster that had a plastic beak. “This has been here since I was born!”

“Furby,” Pa recited. “Manufactured 1998₋”

“It doesn’t even work, Pa!” said Luke. “It’s broken! People don’t want this, they want food! Water! Decent clothes! They want…need to survive! You can’t survive on a Feebee!”

“Furby,” Pa mumbled.

“I don’t understand you,” said Luke. “Why are you so obsessed with all this stuff?”

Slowly, Pa stood up. He walked over to the counter. “You think life is all about survival?”

“On this planet it is.”

There was a ballerina doll on the counter, arms extended to fifth. Pa picked her up. “Feel her, Luke.”

“What? Pa, that’s₋”

“I said feel her!” Pa placed Luke’s hand on the doll’s face. “Real porcelain. This wasn’t made in a factory. This was handcrafted. This was someone’s art.” He held the doll close as if he was afraid she’d crumble like sand. “We used to have good things on this planet. Art and music. I want to remember the good things, Luke.”

Something twisted painfully inside Luke’s chest. “Oh Pa…”

“We don’t have art anymore.”

“I know, Pa.” Luke placed a hand on Pa’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. You’re right, I’ve been a real ass. We’ll figure something out. But now, let’s get some stew.”

“Don’t you sell your medicine,” said Pa. “It would make your Ma sad. And…me too.”

“All right, Pa.” Leading his father, Luke said, “Pa, there are still good things left on this planet.”

“There are?”

“You, Pa,” said Luke. “You and Ma.”

“You’re from this planet too, Luke,” said Pa. “I think you’re also one of the good things.”

“Thanks, Pa.”