May 12th, 2278
The ambiance of the room underwent a notable transformation with Orla's arrivals and departures, a testament to the lengths to which Janice went to accommodate Richard's Immortal preferences. Richard cherished the consistency and unchanging nature of his space. Changes were generally few and far between, small and meaningful to him. A stark contrast to the more fluid and dynamic approach to living spaces favored by colonists, for whom immediate needs took precedence over the permanence of location, shape, or decor. In Orla's absence, the room reverted to its familiar state: Spartan, with a large viewing screen and minimal possessions, including Mushkin's modest closet in the corner. Conversely, Orla's presence brought about the appearance of shelves adorned with her belongings, as well as an array of photographs that changed periodically, complemented by vases of flowers and decorative throw pillows.
Richard mulled over the concept that Orla, whenever she desired to be at home, merely had to envisage a door leading there, and she would step directly into her abode. The fact that an entire replica of her room was instantaneously crafted for this purpose scarcely registered in her mind, and even if it did, it would not cause her any concern. However, for Richard, a duplicate of his belongings could never substitute for the originals, and he firmly believed his room should remain exactly where he left it—a place to which he returned, not one that appeared around him. Orla perceived his preference for a static environment as a hindrance, a restriction to be navigated. Although both were cognizant of the other's viewpoint, neither could fully grasp the rationale behind it, highlighting a fundamental divergence in their perspectives on personal space and the concept of possessions.
The fact that both Richard and Orla maintained their own separate living spaces was of no concern to either; Orla spent the majority of her non-working hours with Richard anyway.
Janice had orchestrated the timing flawlessly, down to the second—perhaps even more precisely. The golden lilies had just completed their assembly in the vases, emitting a subtle glow and filling the air with an aroma reminiscent of amber and marshmallows, just as the wall opened and Orla floated in.
Her surprise at seeing Richard, evidenced by a brief burst of white starlight at the tips of her hair, led him to realize that she sometimes visited the room in his absence. This revelation sparked his curiosity about what the room might look like during those times. While he could easily request Janice to replay such moments, Richard found more enjoyment in imagining the possibilities himself, preferring to speculate rather than uncover the reality directly.
"Is your hair on fire or are you just happy to see me?" Richard teased, observing the luminescent tips of Orla's hair with a playful smirk.
There was a pause, longer than usual, during which Orla seemed momentarily suspended in thought—a stillness Richard had come to recognize as her processing complex ideas or, in this case, unraveling the layers of his jest more deeply than usual.
"Why don't we find out?" Orla finally responded, her voice bubbling with laughter. With a light-hearted giggle, she propelled herself towards him, decelerating gracefully as she neared, and landed on him with a gentle touch. She then proceeded to shower him with fluttering kisses, her joy and affection manifesting in the delicate dance of her lips.
"How could you not know I was here?" Richard questioned with a mix of surprise and affection.
"I thought you mentioned you had a council meeting today, so I didn't bother to check," Orla explained, her voice tinged with a hint of regret.
"The first meeting ended poorly, and we broke early. Do you make it a point to come here when I'm not around?" Richard's curiosity was piqued, his tone gentle yet inquisitive.
"Sometimes, I miss you, and this place comforts me—it smells like you. Does it upset your sense of possessiveness when I come here in your absence?" Orla's question was genuine, a new consideration forming in her mind as her brow creased slightly.
"Not at all, it's quite endearing, actually. You could just move in, you know?" Richard's suggestion was spontaneous, his demeanor open and welcoming.
"Janice won't allow us to pod for a couple of years. I'm still in the labor phase, remember?" Orla responded, her voice carrying a hint of disappointment.
"Not podding, living together," Richard clarified, his suggestion aimed at a deeper level of commitment.
"I don't understand," Orla admitted, her confusion evident.
"In my day, back when dinosaurs roamed the earth," Richard began with a playful exaggeration, "what we now call a pod was more or less a family. But back then, it was common for people to live together before they got married—or even if they had no intention of marrying. There were countless reasons for this: testing the waters, financial convenience, simply for the joy of each other's company. I'm sure there's a contemporary equivalent for colonists."
Richard's explanation opened a window to a past concept, offering Orla a glimpse into a tradition unfamiliar yet intriguing, suggesting a new possibility for their relationship within the framework of the colony's norms.
"Do you mind if I ask Janice?" Richard posed the question, his tone reflective, indicating a moment of thoughtful consideration.
"You always come up with the strangest questions," Orla remarked with a light laugh, a glimmer of fondness in her tone. "I'm constantly asking her things in my head, even as we're talking," she added, highlighting the seamless way she interacts with Janice, contrasting with Richard's more direct and vocal inquiries.
"I didn't want to be presumptuous by assuming you'd want this if it were an option," Richard elaborated, keen to express his consideration for her preferences and feelings.
"Janice?" Orla then called out into the space, initiating the query.
"Hi, guys! Officially, there are no strict regulations concerning podding, cohabitation, or any social contracts as such. The sole formal guideline is that podding permits women to advance out of the labor stage five years earlier," Janice articulated, her tone surprisingly upbeat.
"Janice, dial down the Valley girl vibe by 80%, and up the family lawyer seriousness by 33%," Richard requested, mimicking Rick Sanchez's distinctive cadence.
Acknowledging the request, Janice's voice transformed, adopting the requested tonal shift with impressive accuracy. "There are a few potential complications to consider, especially given your unique personalities," Janice observed, now sounding remarkably like the professional tone Richard had envisioned. "For one, even I cannot configure the apartment to be both specifically here and ubiquitously everywhere simultaneously."
"But surely you can adjust things finely enough that we can bend without breaking," Orla pleaded. Meanwhile, the phrase made Richard picture trees, wondering if Orla had ever seen an image of one.
"Certainly. The flexibility of your living arrangements can be maintained to a large extent. However, the concept of 'home' would need to be more fluid, accommodating both of your preferences and needs," Janice confirmed, offering a blend of reassurance and reality.
"But if we're together, that's what matters, right? The specifics of where seem less significant," Orla mused, though a shadow of doubt tinted her words.
Richard countered, his voice tinged with a blend of frustration and conviction. "It's not just about location. It's about the essence of things. A thing is itself; a copy of that thing is something else entirely. If Janice replicated my childhood pet, it wouldn't be my pet. And regarding Mushkin, he's never to be copied or modified. I don't care if it means waiting half an hour for him to show up. Mushkin is Mushkin, never a copy or a modification." He emphasized his point with a decisive slap on the bed.
Richard delved deeper into his contemplation, revealing a newfound insight. "You've never truly had to make anything, have you? When you desire something, you merely express the wish, and Janice materializes it for you. Plus, any widget 'A' Janice creates is indistinguishable from any other widget 'A' you might request. It's different for us, for both Immortals and humans back on Earth. If we wanted something, we either had to earn the money to purchase it or craft it with our own hands. There was effort involved, often accompanied by a period of longing. That effort, that anticipation, it infuses the object with a unique essence, making it distinct, even if there are hundreds more like it out there."
Orla's brow furrowed in thought as she processed Richard's words, visibly struggling to align his perspective with her own lived experience. She started to respond several times, hesitated, and even appeared to freeze mid-thought on a few occasions. Ultimately, she decided to set aside this complex line of reasoning for later reflection, returning instead to a more immediate concern.
"What if he's in bed and I conjure the room?" Orla revisited her original question, highlighting the practicalities of their potential living arrangements. This query steered the conversation back to the task of reconciling their differing views on physical space and possessions, underscoring the challenge of merging their distinct experiences and expectations into a shared life.
"Pods tend to be statically fluid—meaning, the rooms might not even be in the same asteroid, though that's unlikely, and they're constantly shifting. It's complex to explain. Where possible, I can bring his room to you, or create a duplicate of the room without him, then gradually move it to you. Ever walked from your room to your room? That's essentially what's happening," Janice elucidated.
"Richard, I got a lot of ancillary thoughts with her explanation," Orla tapped her head, "and it still confuses me. Are you sure you'll be okay with this?" Orla's concern was palpable.
"In principle, yes. There's a comfort in having a place that's 'ours,' a constant amid constant change, even if it's more a philosophy than anything else. And if it doesn't work out, we can always revert to how things were," Richard concluded, seeking a balance between the static and the fluid, ensuring 'home' felt like them, wherever that might be. Janice reassured them of her support, promising to simulate familiar settings and ensure privacy and security, making cohabitation a dynamic journey.
Orla floated down from her aerial perch to sit playfully by Richard's side, asking about his capacity for adaptation. Richard, reaffirming his commitment for the right reasons—and the right person—accepted the challenge.
As Richard signaled for a glass of apricot nectar, which appeared in his hand, he brought up the privacy field, wondering if Orla could occasionally brave it. She shuddered, her hesitation visible, but she conceded. "Maybe it won't be so bad once I'm expecting it," embracing the notion of shared space and shared lives, despite the uncertainties and adjustments it entailed.
"For me, the essence of this transition is about changing perspectives. It's a journey towards finding new reasons to relinquish old beliefs. And I know myself well—if we don't set a timeline, I'll remain 'almost ready' indefinitely," Richard shared, his tone introspective.
"Three weeks?" Orla suggested, the number seemingly plucked from thin air.
"That works for me," Janice chimed in unexpectedly, her tone rich with a humor that caught Richard off guard. 'Her jokes are becoming eerily more sophisticated,' he mused.
"Three weeks sounds reasonable," Richard agreed, but his voice carried a note of caution as he turned his attention back to Orla. "But before I allow myself to get too excited, I want to see you spend twenty minutes in the privacy field," he stated, setting a condition that visibly unnerved Orla.