“It’s why you’re a blue-banded racer. There’s nothing wrong with that. It doesn’t mean you’re weak.” She pats my shoulder. “I think it actually says you’re stronger, emotionally.”
“How’s that?” I ask, getting up.
“You put others before yourself. You find a way to be okay with your pain, your loneliness, to heal others. That’s very selfless. Not many people are like that anymore. Anyway, better go pick up your first suit and your bands. Changing room is through there.”
I thank her and follow her directions through a doorway and into a large room where women filter through in lines that pass attendants by computer screens.
A canister drops onto the counter when I step up to the attendant. She removes the suit, a wrist band, and the blue armbands and extends them to me.
I change in the locker rooms beyond, tighten my ponytail, and affix the blue bands over the Velcro that wraps over my sleeves just below my shoulders. No one makes a move to talk to me, but I don’t try to talk to anyone else. There are a lot of pinks and yellows this round, not many blues like me, and we all tend to tuck ourselves in our own corners in the room, avoiding conversation.
The buffet hall is busy with clusters of chatting women in skin-tight, zip up race suits like mine. ABR staff wanders through as they restock the food tables. TV screens around the room show our conversations from the dream dome.
I fill a plate and grab a mug of extra strong coffee, then sit alone in a booth. But it’s a struggle to get anything down with the nervousness making my muscles shiver.
I hope Radar is okay.
Then I hear a voice that shakes me to my core.
“Can you believe it? He pays for everything. Any time Lilyanne wants to go shopping, she can. Who wouldn’t want that?”
I cringe at the high-pitched raspy voice of Carielle.How the fuck did we end up in the same race heat? What is she even doing here? Can I have nothing that is my own?
Food isn’t appetizing anymore. She doesn’t need a better life. She’s apink. Daddy bought her ticket, I’m sure.Or maybe she stole a bunch of shit and is here on those credits.
Whatever the reason is, I don’t want to be around her.
I get up and take the elevator below to the race field. The moment the sweet scent of freshly cut grass greets me, I feel better. I lean on the railing and watch Ohni hover on her announcer’s platform to a group of women at the other end.
Even here, I feel like a shadow. I’ve always been the collateral damage, emotionally—an inconsequential energy trapped in a meat suit others like to trash.
I have to find a good mate, or I have to win the credits. So I scout a path to the mountain top. I’m healthier now. I can run a lot faster than I used to. I can scale cliffs without a harness.I can make it.
For an hour or two, I just stand outside, alone, thinking through my decision, my contingency plans, and wondering how anyone could ever want a blue with a depressing life like mine.
I’m no fun, not in the typical sense. I like tea, reading, hunting for pretty rocks, hiking, snuggling with my dog, and other quiet things.Well, back when I was in college.
I haven’t owned a book in months or had time for idle hikes just for fun.I’m not a heavy drinker or partier.I don’t come from a big family. I’m not a cook. And I’m not particularly tall or curvy for a human.I think I’m rather average looking, though to aliens we all might look exotic.
As women gather outside along the railing with me, I worry that I don’t have anything to offer a male. I was so concerned with myself, with hoping for a better life for us, that I hadn’t even considered what my value would be in a relationship.If he gets bored with me, or if I turn out to not be what he wants, if I can’t have his children, will he leave me?
The race contract said there was a divorce and abandonment fee they had to pay upfront. So I’d get that. But the idea of being rejected later is what scares me now.
Ohni rises into the air as TV cameradrones circle her, their engines humming. I can’t hear what she says over the pulse pounding in my ears.
The railing blinks. Women scream in excitement.
It’s happening!
The race is about to start, and I’m suddenly numb, queasy, and regretting my decision.
Confetti fills the air. The railing blinks green, and women haul themselves over it. I clumsily climb over and fall to the ground. I’m not the only one, but I’m better than this.
Come on Tessi. Get up and run! It’s the only way to win the million. That’s the only way to not be a disappointment on an intergalactic level!
My knees don’t want to work. My body is failing me all because my desperation to not die, to not let Radar suffer, ended with us here. I just don’t like the consequences.
Come on, legs! Work, goddammit!
