QSFer Mattie Bukowski has a new queer sci-fi book out (lesbian, trans): Up the Entropic Ladder.
In the distant future, humans live in a utopia where even death is not the end-for everyone except Amber’s parents. At 25, she is a cynical, aloof Ph.D. in history who resents her sheltered life at home and yearns to find her place in the world.
Then, an exciting job offer comes her way-the chance to uncover the mystery of a civilization that disappeared thousands of years ago. Teaming up with the archeologist Lullaby, Amber embarks on a hitchhiking quest to find the fabled Aquamarine Moon and, perhaps, some much-needed meaning in her life.
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Excerpt
I found you a job,” he replied at last. “And guess what–it comes in one bundle with a research partner.”
Amber’s face sunk. Some pity offer, no doubt–and judging by the timing, he had started looking for it a while ago. He didn’t believe in her from the start.
“It literally just fell into my hands this evening,” he added.
She wasn’t buying it.
“The project is being funded by the Muuk. They need someone with
extensive knowledge of Qulot Era civilizations and conversational level Rx’lng. You’re perfect for it.”
“No,” Amber said.
“Excuse me?” Judging by Nawahi’s expression, he had suddenly gotten sober without any pharmaceutical aid. “What do you mean by that, young lady?”
“It means I won’t take the offer,” she explained calmly. “Not interested.”
“Listen to me, Amber.” He leaned forward across the desk and lowered his voice. “They have recovered first real evidence of the Aquamarine Moon’s existence. They have scroll plates that, as they believe, not only describe it but give detailed instructions on how to find it. It’s a discovery of the century, and no civilization below class A can even stare at it from the distance! You would be a fool to let go of such an opportunity.”
“I guess that makes me a fool,” she told him. “It’s not your fault, professor, it’s just…I’m done. With my career, with people, with ambition in general. I think I need a break from, well, everything. A long-ass holiday. Somewhere far away from history, and responsibilities, and civilization in general.”
He sighed, rubbing his wrinkled forehead, and allowed her to look away into the distance.
“What has happened to you, sweetie?” he asked in a gentle voice. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Are you depressed?”
“No sir.”
“Ill?”
“All of us are ill in some way,” she mused calmly. “Our bodies develop for a couple decades, then immediately begin to decay. Our mortal lives are nothing more than a trial period compared to what we achieve after death. Or what you are promised, at least. Not all of us are so lucky.”
“Is that why you refuse to give anyone a chance?” Nawahi postulated. “Because the world was so unkind to you, and you are unkind to the world and everyone in it as revenge?”
“I’m rational, that’s all,” she disagreed. “I don’t hold hope. I don’t trust people. I tell the truth. That’s how I’ve always been like.”
“No, you weren’t,” he replied. “I knew you since you were five, Amber. You used to be a little ball of joy. Your parents would take you to a playground, and you went over to every single kid, asking them to be your friend. You had faith in Alexandria. You wanted to travel to the stars, see other worlds.”
“Exactly!” She couldn’t keep calm anymore. “I had parents! I was happy! And I wanted to see other worlds, yes–but I can’t! They trapped us here, in this stinking paradise. ‘Protected species’ my ass. It’s Homo sapiens! Give us a couple centuries and we will infest this galaxy once again. We don’t need coddling and we don’t need saving. They aren’t our gods, and they can take that ‘class A’ project and stick it where the sun don’t shine. If they even have that.”
“Amber.”
She got up abruptly, almost knocking the desk over.
“Amber!”
She was at the door.
“The artifact is on another planet, and it can’t be moved.”
She paused, her hand still on the door handle. Nawahi’s voice sounded far away all of a sudden, as if coming to her in a dream.
“They’re giving the researcher a permit to leave Alexandria. You will be working on site.”
Slowly, with no abrupt moves, Amber turned around, sat back into the armchair, and folded her hands on the desk like a studious pupil.
“Do tell me more,” she said, in a voice completely devoid of intonation.
Nawahi smiled.
“You should have started with that last part,” she added, and forced herself to smile back.
Author Bio
Mattie Bukowski. writer, video essayist, dreamer of impossible dreams.