Sep 18th, 2315
The problem with a perfect memory was that nothing was ever forgotten. As Richard prepared to tell Orla that he was leaving, he remembered every detail of when he had the same conversation with Brenda 40 years ago. He vividly recalled Brenda's pained reactions, which made him hesitate now.
Richard took a deep breath and paused to set the scene, gathering his thoughts. He requested a chair made of thin cloth draped over a simple wooden frame from Janice, watching it grow from the floor. Its imagined fragility seemed appropriate for the occasion. He resisted the urge to create a chair for Orla, knowing that it would not be seen as a courtesy, but as an insult. In Orla's culture, creating your own furniture was a show of independence, and Richard did not want to impose his will on her.
Instead, he conjured a round oak table that was just big enough to allow him to reach Orla's hands, but not so small as to encourage physical intimacy.
He had Janice project a small map with Orla's location and estimated time of arrival. With a several minutes left, Richard called out to the air, "Relax me." The lights gradually dimmed, and the ceiling filled with stars, creating a serene atmosphere as Richard levitated about a meter off the ground. Despureyakk's cover of "Hallelujah" played softly in his ears, while rhythmic gravity assists massaged his temples and fingertips. The faint smell of fresh baked almond cookies filled the air.
Without needing to be asked, Janice adjusted his posture to an upright position and gently lowered him to the ground as Orla entered through an opening of the wall that closed as she stepped through. The music in Richard's ear continued to play but at a considerably lower volume, almost subliminally.
Orla was attired in a sleeveless white dress that highlighted the elegant contours of her shoulder blades and neck. The garment clung tightly to her figure, falling in soft waves to about halfway down her calves. Her unique bioluminescence was visible through the delicate fabric, emitting a soft glow that accentuated her ethereal beauty.
Richard's train of thought was shattered by the sight of Orla in her clingy white dress. It stirred him in ways that were not helpful in the moment. He took a moment to compose himself, then sat down at the table. Orla's chair appeared shortly afterward, and she got settled into it.
"Orla...," he started, but couldn't find the words.
"You're leaving the pod," she said calmly, indicating that she had anticipated this news for some time.
Richard thought to himself that Orla was smart, maybe smarter than Brenda with a little training. He shook his head to clear his mind and asked her, "How long have you known?"
"Richard, you're a monogamist," said Orla, she pronounced the word slowly for the first time. "I've known since you brought Tilt into the pod."
"I didn't even realize it on a conscious level at that point," Richard admitted.
"Janice, what was the first requirement on the suitor list I assume he asked you to do?"
"It wasn't his first criteria, but if you're asking about the children's slot, then yes, that was the primary consideration," Janice said, speaking out loud so that both of them could hear.
"Lying is an antiquated notion, and you won't get away with it in this day and age. So, it's best if you don't attempt to hide your true intentions from me again," said Orla with a steely tone. Although she often got her way, she rarely resorted to threats, making her comment feel particularly ominous.
Orla spoke with a hint of accusation in her tone. "You threw Tilt at me so that I would extend my labor waiver by having another child. And since it wasn't with you, you'd be free to leave the pod once Skodj was old enough to form his own pod. Now that he's done that, you're getting ready to leave the pod. And since I have a baby to raise with Tilt, I assumed you were leaving me as well.
"I understood the physics of it all when you proposed the new pod. But the 'why' of it all has never fully made sense to me," she finished with a note of frustration.
Richard spoke in an apologetic tone. "I'm sorry. I'm used to editing history to spare your feelings as much as to make my actions look better."
Orla's eyes misted over slightly. "There's no need for guilt. Just honesty. And I'm sorry that I wasn't enough for you," she said.
Richard's expression softened as he gazed at her. "You're more than enough. You were wonderful," he assured her. "But it's me. I get wanderlust. And I feel stifled in this over-regulated, privacy-lacking hellhole that you love so much. Don't get me wrong, I helped design it, but it wasn't made for me, and I can't take it much longer."
Orla was surprised. "So, you're not only leaving me? You're leaving the colonies? You're going to become a Craterist?" Despite her limited experience with speaking, she managed to load the word with venom.
"Even after all these years, our cultures are so different, and our base senses even more so," Richard acknowledged. "Give me the night to gather my thoughts, and I'll do my best to give you a full, honest answer. I'll try to bridge our differences and help you see the universe the way I do, but be warned, it might feel a lot like a history lesson."
"It is that difficult?"
"It really is," Richard admitted with a mixture of sadness and frustration.
"I'll see you tomorrow then," Orla said before the tables and chairs dissolved into the floor, and she left.
Richard threw himself on the bed, massaging his stomach, which was in knots. "Janice, give me absolute darkness," his voice low and frustrated. "Increase the temperature and provide a cooling breeze. Play a soothing soundtrack and let me sleep for five hours." The room responded, and soon Richard was able to find some solace in slumber.