Idleness...

Alpha did everything well and better than anyone else. Sometimes he sowed too early, but it turned out he had done his best. Without being told, he changed the water well’s filter. Ada was starting to think he was more intelligent than anyone here.

This left the village without meaningful work. During the warm seasons, which occurred three times per HS year, the inhabitants of Clelia would descend to the lake for picnics, organize public Bible readings, or speed up the bagging of minerals extracted by the mining robot.

In the cold seasons, when snow fell, hard times came. The Jespersen god forbade all drugs except alcohol, and Paul exploited this theological loophole to import strong raspberry-flavored liqueurs extracted from nebulas. The first winter after Alpha’s arrival left its mark. Paul had started drinking. He became melancholic, launching into monologues about the emptiness of their project. Then he would deprecate himself. Then he would say God had abandoned them, that He was silent, that they were insane. At first, the family responded. Inevitably, the tone escalated, and he began smashing objects, then striking people. By the end of the cursed month, Marie spent two nights at the Hibotz family’s house. And with the return of the sun, everything went back to normal, with vague apologies from the patriarch, whose sincerity was dulled by his hazy recollections of his fits of rage.

Then came the second winter, and Paul broke his promise not to drink. He drank in secret, first at night, then in the morning. Ada spent her days answering “Yes” with her eyes downcast, even when he called her the worst names. She realized this vast empty planet was, in many ways, a prison no better than her room at the administrative center.

One evening at the end of winter—with ten centimeters of snow still outside but likely to melt by tomorrow—the sun had already set. Paul, drunk, complained that the table wasn’t set and began hurling insults at Marie. Ada had just come back, still wearing her white coat. In such episodes, she felt only contempt for her adoptive father and confronted him. Drawing on her excellent memory, she shouted at him, word for word, the Genesis passage where Noah shamed his children by drinking too much.

Paul overturned a table and looked for something to strike Ada with. She ran out the door, her small legs pushing through the snow. Paul followed her, a metal pot in hand, while Marie and the children begged him to stop. Fortunately, Paul stumbled and fell, giving Ada a chance to get ahead. Instinctively, she ran to the large greenhouse—perhaps Alpha, the Xeno, could protect her. He was there, pruning trees with his sharp limbs. She ran to him, slipping between his legs. Paul arrived, shouting profanities at the Xeno (who didn’t understand the situation), threw the pot, grabbed a shovel, and struck Alpha, who nonchalantly deflected the blow with a single motion of his arm.

Stolen novel; please report.

“GET OUT OF THE WAY, YOU PIECE OF GARBAGE!” Paul screamed, and Alpha obeyed.

Sweating and trembling with fear, Ada found herself cornered between the greenhouse glass and her pursuer. Desperate, she broke a pane just big enough for her size. Air rushed out with a hiss. She fled into the pitch-black night, running from a madman who likely intended to kill her.

The villagers, dressed in little more than nightclothes, stumbled out of their homes, dazed. Paul, shovel in hand, emerged from the greenhouse and collapsed in the snow, weeping. The hissing air spelled disaster for everyone: cyanobacteria had contaminated the crops. They would need to buy new soil and plants, delaying the zero-debt point by several years.

Senga, rifle in hand and accompanied by a drone with a flashlight, addressed the crowd firmly :

“Men, grab warm clothes and return here in one minute. We’ll deal with the greenhouse later. We must find Ada before she freezes to death. Paul, you will go home and lie down immediately. If you do anything else, I’ll shoot you. Furthermore, the Jespersen family, I am relieving you of custody of Ada effective immediately. I will care for her, and we will find her a safe home, here or elsewhere. Marie, Japhet, Paul Junior, and Ben, see to your father. Let’s move.”

By the time he finished speaking, the men were dressed and holding flickering lamps. The Jespersen children carried their father, sobbing and unable to walk, back to the house.

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Ada, meanwhile, ran as if the entire village were advancing like an invisible monster behind her. She had no idea where she was going. She was simply fleeing the trembling lights in the distance. She began climbing a slope—there was nothing there, just emptiness and stars. And the cold… She slowed down, meticulously tightening her coat. Then, suddenly, all the injustices and violence she had endured in her short, miserable life resurfaced: the SharePlace massacre, her detention, Sol’s manipulative duplicity, her abandonment, Paul’s hypocrisy, weakness, and violence… She sobbed heavily, stifling the sound to avoid being heard.

Then she was lifted off the ground. She screamed, but the galaxy’s arm stretching across the sky was obscured by a familiar silhouette: Alpha’s head. He was carrying her in his arms.

“Alpha,” she whispered through her tears, “please don’t take me back there. I’m begging you. I never want to see them again. I can die alone in the mountains.”

Of course, the Xeno said nothing. He held her tightly and continued walking in the same direction—away from the village. When Ada realized this, she curled into a ball in his arms, surrendering herself to a world where there would be no warmth, no food, no water—but at least there would be no more human violence.