>> “You should go
from place to place
recovering the poems
that have been written for you,
to which you can affix your signature.”
- From "Basket"
By Leonard Cohen

The dimly lit courtyard didn’t seem at all marred by the metal scaffolding, nor by the struts, nor by the supports – not on that day. Not to Sarah, anyway. That day, Tempest IV smoldered brightly in the heavens, entirely in spite of the obnoxious mining equipment that towered into the sky, nearly obscuring her from sight. Little tendrils of her radiance wormed their way down through the atmosphere, through the maze of architecture, emerging occasionally in triumphant shafts that shot to the earth below.

It was kind of sad, kind of pathetic, kind of ridiculous – kind of a stretch, to find joy in so little. To yearn for a sunrise and settle for a sunbeam is something very few people can do, in their heart of hearts. But in that moment, the sun was in the sky, Sarah was trapped under a mining platform for the rest of her life, and everything was right with the world.

To her, at least. But, perhaps unfortunately, never to him.

There were two kinds of people that found themselves in the employ of the Intergalactic Industrial Mining Corporation – and the term employment is used here in the most casual sense. The first looked at the rusted durasteel walls, the endless walkways and corridors, and – of course – the dimly lit courtyards, and saw the end of their story.

Adrian belonged to the second variety. He saw the beginning.

“How can we know who we are, when we live in a place without a name?” Adrian asked, rolling over in the artificial grass and smoothing out his unkempt hair.

Sarah’s eyebrows lurched inwards at the question. “How can you not know who you are, Adrian?”

“Don’t answer a question with a question,” he snapped back, now sitting up. For several long moments, he broke eye contact with Sarah, abandoning his lover where she lay on the grass.

It took all of those long moments to collect himself. It has often been proposed among the galaxy’s wisest sages that the adolescent male mind is the most concentrated example of utter chaos in the universe. “Every morning when you wake up and open your window, and what do you see?”

“The place I’ve lived my entire life.”

“That’s right. The prison you’ve been locked away in for nineteen years.” Adrian shook his head. “Every morning, instead of waking up to a sunrise, you wake up to be reminded that you’re a prisoner – that you’ll always be one.”

“What’s your point, Adrian?” Sarah asked.

“Happiness,” Adrian replied. “This place isn’t right – it doesn’t feel right, and it gnaws right at the pit of your gut. We can make the best of it, try to grumble our way through – but no matter what joy you find in the misery around you during the day and night, every morning you’ll be greeted with that same crushing reminder of your plight. And the moment you accept it, is the moment you forget who you are and become who they want you to be – a prisoner.”

“You’re talking like a poet, again.”

“I am a poet. We weren’t meant to stare at durasteel skies, Sarah.”

Without warning, she reached out and gripped his hand tightly. Adrian tried to avoid looking at all startled. “Look at me, Adrian. Don’t I make you happy?”

“Of course you do.”

“Then look at me, instead of the sky. Look into my eyes. I know who you are.”

“Who am I, Sarah?”

“The man that makes me happy.”

“But what if this isn’t true happiness?” Adrian asked, gripping her hand back. “You said it yourself, you’ve lived here your entire life. What if that sunrise is the one missing piece of the puzzle – the little fleck of happiness that’s been absent from your heart for so long, you’ve forgotten that it isn’t there?”

Sarah shook her head, tossing her long dark mane in a dazzling whirlwind and looking away, perhaps at the tiny tendrils of light. Adrian could smell her hair, even without being close to it. He reached out, caressing her cheek tenderly. “This is all for you, my love. And one day, you’ll understand.”

After kissing her gently on the cheek, he hopped to his feet and brushed himself off.

“I’ll be back from Callian’s in about two hours. Come see me, tonight?”

Sarah looked up at him, and did her best to smile. “Of course.”