Chapter 1

Indianapolis, United North American States

September 2485 - Three weeks later

-

It was a bright, warm day in late summer when the world began to change. On the edge of downtown Indianapolis, in the sprawling city university complex, students and professors mingled in the courtyards and common areas, or passed from class to class oblivious to the tribulations of wider Solar Space.

A small but noticeable number of students wear the dark tan dress uniforms of Spacer Corps ROTC. War, though on hold for a brief while, is never far from the public mind these days.

But it is three students in particular who we come to see, and we find them walking east along one of the main streets through campus in the blazing late afternoon sun. The tallest wears a black tunic with rolled sleeves, and gray trousers. Next to him, his friend wears a dashiki and black and yellow-striped pants. Finally, the shortest of the three wears an unbuttoned shirt in Hawaiian print and denim pants. All three wear retro sneakers and have school bags slung over their shoulders–average students of the late twenty-fifth century.

The tallest, and oldest, is named Sam Taskaro. His tunic matches his medium-length dark hair and vibrantly coal dark eyes. He is tall, fit, and carries a longboard under one arm. The second, Devon Wastani, is of medium height with piercing gray eyes. Their shoulder-length curly brown hair is dread-locked and tied into a knot behind their head. Last but not least is Matt Cavanaugh, who is youngest of the three and stockier than his two friends, with a shock of messy dirty-blonde hair, blue eyes, and a cavalier smile.

Matt was engaged in explaining something to his two oldest friends. He waved his hands excitedly as he spoke, bright eyes glowing with energy. “I mean, why even bother? They can quiz us all they want for retention, but unless some dipshit like me can recall that stuff for real-world use, then what's the point?”

Sam smirked without looking over at his friend. “Yeah, well, you're right on one count.”

“Yeah?” Matt said, raising an eyebrow. “How’s that?”

“Well, you are the biggest dipshit I know.”

Matt's face fell, but he smirked roguishly a moment later, puffing up to his full height. “Yeah, but at least I've got a winning smile. I mean, who could resist this?” He flashed his best cool guy grin.

Devon snorted “I wouldn't count on that to get you through life either, my guy.”

Matt looks sidelong at his friend before laughing boisterously, clutching at his stomach as he does so. “Yeah? Well at least I actually have an ounce of charisma, D.”

Devon raises a critical eyebrow. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Matt holds up both hands. “I'm just sayin', you'll never get anywhere if you have to rely on that winning personality of yours. I mean, if you actually had some chutzpah, maybe you and Amy would be—”

Devon elbows Matt in the ribs, cutting off his spiel. Sam grins as Devon roughly tousles the younger man’s hair. “Remind me,” they say, “what stopped you from asking Alex out, again?”

Matt smiles awkwardly, scratching his ear as he does so. “I, uh, I was working up to it, y’know?”

Sam let out a single, harsh laugh. “Oh, listen to this.” He makes a rude gesture, holding his hand in a fist and jerking it up and down. “That’s the only thing you’re working up to.” Devon laughs and nudges Matt in the ribs once more. The trio are nearing the public transit station at the northeast end of the campus.

“What?” Matt said, waving his arms. “If I had really wanted to ask her out I would have. Hell, I even thought about asking her the night she told us she was going to the Academy, y’know?”

“Oh please,” Sam snorted. “If you ever have to rely on a ‘winning personality’ to take you anywhere, you'll be working in a movie theater when you're sixty.”

Matt blew a raspberry and waved a hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah...” He pulled at his collar and bugged his eyes out, putting on a false voice to complete the effect. “‘Can't get no respect, no respect at all.’”

Devon snorted again. “Yeah, whatever you say, Rodney. Nice impression. What is this, the 20th century?” They snickered as Matt scowled at them. “Sheesh... Feels like I’m watching one of those ‘past on parade’ flicks. Like, w-w-whoa-a-a-a, man!”

Sam laughed and chimed in a moment later. “Yeah, maybe you can make a living on those skills, eh Matt? Always thought he’d make a good comedian, didn't we, D?”

Matt perks up expectantly and looks over at Devon. Devon pondered this for a while, then clicked their fingers. “Yeah. Or if that fails he'd make a good sideshow at the circus.”

Matt deadpanned as his two friends laughed at his expense, before letting out a sigh and grinning in spite of himself. “Yeah, yeah, have your fun,” he says. “I’ll be the one laughing when I make it big.”

No one laughed at this. It’s the same hope they all had, of course: to make it big, to make it out of the city where they’d spent most of their lives. Preferably without having to leave in a uniform, that is. By then they’d reached the transit terminal, and took refuge from the sun under the awning.

Sam broke the tension. “Well, at least you've still got your looks…” He grinned mischievously and reached out to pinch Matt’s cheek. “Ickle Matty!” he said in a mocking falsetto.

Devon laughs as the younger man swats Sam’s hand away. “Cut that out!” Matt says testily.

“Yeah, Sam,” said Devon, still chuckling. “Who are you imitating, his grandma?”

Sam rolled his eyes, flashing a wry smile. “Shee-it, man... I wish I could cook that good, my dude.”

Then all three of them shared a hearty laugh. They settled into a short silence before Devon looked at the digital readout on the station wall. They looked down at their own wrist-smartband as if to confirm the bad news. “Ah, damn. I'm gonna be late if I don't head out soon.” They lightly shoved Matt at his shoulder. “Which means you will be, too, slacker. Dunno what Anita would say if you’re late again.”

Matt grinned sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah…”

Sam looked at his own tablet, then frowned and swore under his breath. “Shit, I gotta get going, too.”

Suddenly, as quickly as a change in the wind, his mood turned melancholy, eyebrows drawing into a frown as a dark expression settled onto his face. Devon and Matt shared a knowing glance.

Then, just quickly as he darkened, Sam brightened again. Grinning, he turned to Devon and put an arm around their shoulder. “When I get to work, how about I say hi to your little girlfriend for you, hmm?”

Devon nudged him away, frowning awkwardly and trying to hide the slight reddening of their cheeks. “She's not my girlfriend, you jackass...” They fail to keep Sam from snickering at their discomfort.

Matt cut in, oblivious to Devon's awkwardness. “Could you ask her how her big sis is doing, Sam?” He grinned nervously and scratched at the back of his head once more as thoughts of his own favorite person entered his mind. “Haven’t heard from Alex since she went away to Field Training.”

Sam waved a hand dismissively, still grinning faintly. “Yeah, sure, man. Whatever.” He turned to head for the approaching autobus, waving at his friends as he departed. “See ya tomorrow, geeks.”

Matt waved at his friend's back. “Not if we see you first, a-hole.”

Then he turned to face Devon and swatted them on the shoulder. “So, you ready for work?”

Devon sighed. “Yeah, let's get it over with.” The two of them turned and headed for another bus. It took them through the gridded maze of downtown streets, eventually winding its way to an ancient cinema on the near east side. Electric signs lit the storefronts along the way and dance music emanated from the clubs dotting the lower levels of the city center. People thronged the streets, dressed for a Friday night out.

Inside the vintage movie house near the east edge of the city center, Matt leaned forward against the railing at the upper balcony edge of a regal-looking early 20th century theater. The light from the old-fashioned projection screen played across the back wall and his face, casting him in harsh silvery-gray hues.

The movie being played for that particular late showing was a black and white classic from the nearly-forgotten Studio Era of the mid-twentieth century. The theater itself was nearly empty. On the screen, a rough-faced man named Bogart was lamenting the silence of America in the midst of some nearly terrestrial forgotten war. Matt watched silently, enraptured. He mouthed the words along with Bogart. “‘I'll bet they're asleep in New York... I'll bet they're asleep all over America.’” He grinned like a schoolboy, almost rocking side to side in his seat with childlike wonder. Lost in a past that was by then only an aesthetic.

A sudden clearing of a throat from someone behind him caused Matt to turn around. Devon stood in the balcony doorway, pointing at their watch with a frown gracing their features. Matt nodded quickly, sheepishly, and grabbed his nearly forgotten bottle of water before leaving the theater to return to work.

Outside the sanctum sanctorum of the theater, Matt walked across the ornately carpeted floor to the concession stand. Devon was already halfway there, carrying a broom loosely in one hand. The lobby of the movie house was as nearly deserted as the theater itself. “Y'know,” Devon began, “I'm not required to pull you off breaks. I'm not paid enough to cover your ass, to be honest.”

Matt took up his place behind the register and started wiping the counter as Devon resumed sweeping bits of popcorn toward the robotic floor cleaner. It scuttled around their feet like a curious little pet, munching down trash that would later be recycled into raw substrate for the city’s street repair department.

Matt grunted. “Yeah?” he said. “Then why do you bother?”

Devon leaned on the broom. “Because I don't wanna listen to you getting reamed out, that’s why.”

Matt sighed and grumbled something under his breath as he wiped down the counter. He surveyed the lobby scene, taking in the near-total desolation of the movie palace. He knew that there was a time places like this were just that, practically palaces in the image of the European estates of old, where the masses would gather to celebrate the latest achievements of their culture. That time was long gone.

“Can you believe this place?” he said after a long silence. “Was a time old movie houses like this used to fill up all night, every night. Now people are so interested in the holos and VRs that you only get nerds like us out here to check out the real classics.”

Devon snorted, only half-paying attention to their friend’s laments. “You mean nerds like you.”

Matt wasn’t really paying attention, either. He’d lapsed into a feeling of nostalgia, the kind that comes when you realize the past you pine for is gone for good. “Yeah, sure...”

Devon sighed and paused their sweeping again. “Time's change, man. That’s the one inevitable thing in this universe, I think. One day things are one way, the next…” They shrugged. “Dust in the wind. Y’know?” They leaned awkwardly on the broom once more. “Look at the last twenty-five years. We're still the lucky ones, y'know, living here on Earth in a good city like we are. Just think about the folks out in the Frontier…”

They trailed off, and neither spoke for a while. The status of the interstellar frontier was always a tough subject for people back Earthside, especially those like Devon and Matt who knew people who had been touched directly by the last few decades of never-ending war and privation.

Matt nodded slowly, staring off into space. “Yeah, I know... Believe me, I know.”

Devon turned to face him again, frowning. “Then don't complain so much. If it wasn’t for your family’s connections, where would you be? Would you rather live in the slums, like Sam used to?”

Matt frowned back at them and grumbled something indistinct. Devon just gave a small nod as they turned back to continue slowly sweeping loose popcorn shells and bits of trash toward the little wandering robot. Matt just leaned on the counter, waiting for the world to come to hom.

Suddenly Devon stopped sweeping again. They turned to look at Matt, leaning on the broom once more as they did so. “Hey, can I level with you on something, dude? No bullshit, that is?”

Matt was resting his chin on his palm, with his elbow propped on the counter. He spoke without meeting Devon’s questioning glance. “What, are you finally gonna ask Amy out? Good for you, that’s—"

Devon frowned. “No, no, I mean about Sam.”

Matt raised an eyebrow as he looked up at Devon. “Sam? What, you're not gonna ask him out, are you? 'Cause I don't think he's really into that sorta–”

Devon cut across him again, growing annoyed. “I think something's bothering him.”

Matt cocked his head, a gesture that made him look more like a curious puppy than the trash-eating robot prowling the lobby. “What do you mean?”

Devon sighed and threw up a hand in exasperation. “I dunno, he's just been sorta...” They waved their hand around exasperatedly, looking for the right words. “Off, the past few days. You haven't noticed?”

Matt scratched at his ear. “I mean, I guess he's been kinda…” He makes a face. “Well, hell, whadda ya want from me? I'm not exactly the best judge of all that sort of stuff, y'know?”

“Yeah, yeah, but listen,” said Devon. “You haven't noticed he's been acting kinda... I dunno, different recently? Like earlier today when he suddenly got all somber at the bus stop?”

Matt grimaced, suddenly realizing his mistake. “Um...no?” Devon frowned at him, face deadpan. “I mean, sure, I guess, why? What, what do you mean? What about it?”

Devon sighed, suddenly seeming quite somber. They looked at Matt with a strange, knowing sadness in their eyes. “Matt, I think it's his brother. Mike's birthday is coming up soon.” They looked down at the floor, as if unable to face Matt. “He would have been twenty-seven next month.”

Matt almost tripped over a response before stopping himself. He looked down at the concessions counter and rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling very small and miserable. “Three years, huh… Shit.” He looked up at Devon. “And what, you think he's in his usual bad mood because of it?”

Devon met Matt’s gaze, their eyebrows drawn together into a sour frown. “In a manner of speaking. You know what I'm talking about. You know how he gets this time of year, and this time he—"

Matt interrupted, suddenly irritable as the emotions rebounded on him. “He what, D? You think he might do something stupid? He gets this way this time every year. There's only so much we can do.”

Devon scowled at him. “It's not like either of us know what it's like to lose a brother.”

Their face fell into a grimace, as unbidden memories of those he had lost to the conflicts in the frontier floated to the surface. Matt noticed a moment later and winced at his own lack of tact. “Ah crap,” he muttered. “That's not… I'm sorry, man, you know that's not what I mean, you know I—"

“Then what do you mean?” Devon muttered bitterly.

Matt struggled again to find the right words. “I just... “ Then he sighed and ran a hand through his mop of hair. “I just mean that he needs empathy, D. We can only offer so much of that, right?”

Devon started to speak but stopped theirself. An idea was forming into their mind, lighting up their face with a renewed smile. “I know someone who can offer plenty of empathy, if that's what Sam needs.”

Matt raises his eyebrow yet again. It took a moment for the implications of Devon’s comment to dawn, but he brightened when they did. “I think we could all use a nice vacation, don’t you think?” asked Devon.

Matt pumped his fist and said, “Hell yeah, dude!”

Then he vaulted over the counter and stuck out his hand for a low-five. Devon slapped him on the palm and they huddled close and clasped their fists in between. “West Coast, baby, here we come!”