Moving On to Good Planet

The starport was even stranger than I had imagined it. All sorts of aliens crowded the various terminals. Hundreds of languages rang through my ears. Buzzing lights that flickered overhead meant I had to strain my eyes to see anything. The unmistakable stench of rust and industrial cleaner gave me a headache.

“Can I really do it?” I thought, “Can I really leave my home world?” When I was a child, I was jealous of the ships that rose up into the atmosphere of Etheria, ascending and shrinking until they vanished. Back then I desperately wanted to go with them, more out of wanderlust than anything else. Now? Now I felt a knot in my stomach, except I had already spent all my savings on a steerage ticket for a starcruiser heading straight for the capital of the Orion Star Republic, a city-planet named Good Planet. I guess the choice was already made for me, or rather, I had already made my choice.

“Would Premium-Luxury A-Class Passengers now report for inspection?” chimed a robotic voice from the dim terminal across the uncomfortable bench I was sitting on. I looked at my ticket, how grand, evidently I am a "Premium-Luxury A-Class Passenger".

Standing up, I dragged my only suitcase with me to the inspection and ticket counter, in a grimy and dimly lit corner. The wheel of my suitcase got caught in the crack of one of the metal panels and while trying to free it, I stumbled into a gruff looking humanoid who only scowled at me.

“Sorry!” I said.

“Have you never been around other people before, human?” the humanoid shook his head and muttered a swear in his language.

I suppose that on Etheria there were never crowds this big. That was part of the problem. I was deeply lonely on my home world. It didn’t feel like there was anyone I had anything in common with. Etheria was small, mostly an agri-colony. The people there, like my family, were rather provincial. But I never wanted — or rather I never could leave while my family was still there. I’d miss them too much. But I resented that my family was from a world like Good Planet and moved us out to the colonies before I was born. Didn’t they know how lonely it would be?

The inspection desk was a mess. On the wall behind the counter was a faded mural reading “Secure Land For Future Colonists!” with a triumphant-looking human family gazing at vast prairies. It reminded me how old this starport was. The peak of colonial expansion was two hundred years ago. The robot at the desk greeted me,

“Hello [human]! Please present your identification for inspection!”

“Oh right,” I said, and feeling my jacket pockets I realized my ID must be in my suitcase. The suitcase was heavy and fell onto the desk with a loud enough thud over the din that people nearby looked my way. “One second,” I said meekly as I unclasped the lock of the suitcase and it opened up with a pneumatic hiss.

“To proceed with the inspection, I must ask for your identification, citizen!” The robot was vaguely human-like in appearance. Sleek, white, and with a digital display instead of a face, though part of its left arm had an off-color casing.

“Yes, yes. You don’t need to repeat yourself,” I didn’t look up at the robot but I could feel my face going flush. Everything that was in this suitcase was all that I owned — at least since my mother died. Her death was why I was able to finally leave Etheria. I rummaged through a change of clothes but I owned nothing fashionable. Next, I pulled out my art tablet. My talents on Etheria were mostly useless since nearly everyone was involved in farm labor or in services to support the farmers; but I figured I could fall back on my art skills on Good Planet.

The robot again repeated its instruction, and I felt myself beginning to tense. Could it be that I lost my ID? Where? I must have had it when I boarded the shuttle to the starport. Then, did I ever leave my suitcase unattended? No, it couldn’t be. I pulled out a few books of classic alien literature, and then a brochure for a clinic for those like me on Good Planet — those who don’t identify with the gender they were assigned at birth. There was no support for people like me on Etheria, even those that were supportive didn’t “get it”. It’s strange how humanity can conquer the stars and still not leave its prejudices behind like that.

“Perhaps it is better if I’m not able to go,” I began telling myself as my panic mounted — a lie of reassurance. After all, Good Planet was crowded, and I heard you can never see the stars at night because of the light pollution. Crowds like the ones on this starport made me nervous. Oh, what am I thinking, how can you be lonely and agoraphobic? Pick one or the other. Besides, the stars I could see from Good Planet wouldn’t be familiar to me anyway.

I pushed aside a digiframe that had a bunch of family photos downloaded onto it. For some reason pushing it aside made me deeply sad and so I picked it up and set it down again gently in a more convenient spot. Finally, underneath where it was, I found my wallet and in it my holo-identification card. I breathed a sigh of relief. I think if I had needed to turn back now then I would have regretted it.

The robot scanned my ID for what felt like an eternity, then it scanned me as well. Its LED eye lights turned green and it chimed,

“It’s all in good order [human], please proceed to the gate.”

I couldn't help it, but a smile grew over my face. It was happening. As scary and as overwhelming as it seemed, it was happening. I thanked the robot and quickly threw everything back into my suitcase.

I practically skipped the whole way there. I know, I know, it seems like I am vacillating, but I suppose that it’s pretty human to be ambivalent about your home. In any case, for now, I’ve made up my mind. It is time to move on.