Chapter 10: Clelia

Under the red and blazing sun, softened to orange and gentle by the atmospheric filter, the single civilized section of Clelia was stunningly beautiful: a handful of container houses, set a century ago around an old stone building, faced a gently sloping valley ablaze with intense yellow flowers, followed by a mirror-smooth lake, which reflected mountains towering to the sky, capped with eternal snow.

The stone building was the result of an old and forgotten colonization dream: a house that could have been pulled straight from one of Earth’s pre-stellar fictions: gray stone walls, a meticulously organized garden with a charming terrace, weathered and colorfully painted walls, and red-tiled roofs, marked with the inscription “First House of Clelia.” The only house, evidently.

Behind the village stood the spectacular skeleton of some space-faring monster, its bleached bones as wide as the columns of a mad temple, forming a ribcage 150 meters high. With some imagination, the creature could be reconstructed—a massive, tailless whale-like being. The LE identified it as a Megasteraphailana, a creature that had lived in interstellar space—millions, if not billions, of such skeletons drifted in space. Here, however, it was perfectly harvestable: the wealth of this world and the reason four families had exiled themselves to Clelia.

Twenty years earlier, the Jespersens, Scotts, Bihotz, and Salute families, united by their faith in a Christian sect called the True Believers of Jesus, had pooled their savings to emigrate to Clelia and purchase a mineral-extraction robot—a ten-meter mechanical beast that “ate” the skeleton bit by bit, converting it into piles of calcium, platinum, and thorium, which Sky transported off-world to repay The Debt. This debt, their obsession, was expected to be paid off within seven years, after which thalers would begin flowing freely.

If Ada had understood the disillusioned discussions among the children correctly, the original plan was to use this fortune to build a Christian domain in the After, the place where one goes after death. However, five years ago, a new Pope, Pius XVII, declared that the immortal soul no longer existed in the After. Disoriented by this new, infallible decree, they were uncertain about their plans—except that the debt still had to be repaid, which kept them busy. With any luck, a new Pope might soften the current stance in the future.

Why wasn’t Clelia a tourist paradise, with its natural beauty? The answer was simple biology: the ecosystem was overloaded with cyanobacteria that made all plants grown in the soil, or any unfiltered water, toxic to humans. According to planetary explorers who had drilled core samples across the world, this had even prevented the evolution of animal life beyond simple cells. The most economical solution was to build large, hermetically sealed greenhouses filled with healthy soil and plants, which sustained the small village. Maintaining the greenhouses efficiently occupied everyone, as idleness was considered the root of all vices.

With the population exceeding twenty due to births, HS regulations required the installation of a planetary custodian. In their great wisdom, the AIs selected Senga—a man both close to the After due to his advanced age and an erudite Christian. Senga, with his dark skin, large white mustache like clouds, and a magnetic acceleration rifle (MAR) slung across his back, wore the standard blue-and-gold uniform daily. Everyone called him Uncle. On Sundays, bearing a mandate from the Cardinal of the First Prefecture of Prospero, he officiated Mass—the only time he set down his MAR.

Each family had its share of children, as God had commanded them to be fruitful and multiply. The patriarch of the Salute family, a skilled doctor, managed the births. However, the children rarely mingled between families. Though Ada drew curiosity and glances, a flirtation before marriage in such a closed community would have been the seed of a melodrama. Despite the silences and stolen glances, distant affections were evident.

Ada soon got to know the Jespersen boys better.

For delaying his work, Japhet was assigned double duty sowing seeds—a back-breaking task they still lacked robots for. Unwilling to endure the punishment, he passed the work to Ada, who accepted without complaint. Manual labor suited her. Secretly, she would ask the LE for mathematical results or concepts (like Dirac masses) and meditate on them while plowing, hauling calcium sacks, or, in this case, sowing seeds. Japhet’s punishment, on top of his regular work, stretched far beyond the day, but Ada barely noticed, lost in thought.

When Paul realized Ada’s absence and Japhet’s awkwardness during supper prayers, he dragged Japhet by the ear to find her, then delivered a violent, unchristian punch. Japhet spent the night working without food, needing a tooth reset by Father Salute. Ada resolved to distrust Japhet—but even more so his father.

Paul Junior was a rotten seed who, like Clelia’s cyanobacteria, would never yield a healthy plant. One day, as the Scott children and the Jespersen brothers gathered to talk to Ada, he sneered violently:”Ada’s an Antio-bitch, isn’t she? I heard they all sleep around over there. You ever slept with your uncle? Your dad?”

Ada, whose Shareplace education included a comprehensive explanation of sexuality, calmly replied:”No.”

Her steady tone, as if she were answering a simple math question, made a strong impression. Paul Junior stammered, and Ada warmly asked if he had more questions—genuinely hoping they were interested in Shareplace life. The conversation ended there, and no one used the term “Antio-bitch” again.

Then there was Ben. Ben was kind, a little simple but not foolish. He and Ada exchanged knowledge, taking turns as mentor and student. He taught her everything he knew about plant cultivation, while she spoke to him about prime numbers. He was one of the planet’s few rays of sunshine, along with Sky, who arrived every two months to load calcium, thorium, and platinum—and to share dinner. Sky liked Ada and always brought a small gift: candy, a colorful tunic, or a Raven-shaped toy.

When Ada turned twelve, Paul took her to Senga. It was during a gentle summer, on the terrace of the old house’s abandoned garden. She still carried Léon at her belt.