On board the St. Laurentia bound for (24475) Ada IV Jokim. 26 days to destination.
Isi Hudson knelt before her bed, knees pressed to the hard metal floor, wearing a tight white suit that covered her from ankles to wrists. A bright blue habit was laid out on the bed, but she enjoyed the almost naked feeling of the skin-tight undergarment and preferred to do her morning prayers in it alone.
Holy Mary...
Her elbows were propped up on the stiff mattress, her forehead pressed to her knuckles. A long rosary hung from her fingers, neon green beads for the Hail Marys, pink for the Mysteries, and blue for the cross and Our Father.
Mother of God...
The techno colour sacramental had been a gift from the first priest she’d ever spoken to. It would have looked less out of place in a Mardi Gras parade than in the hands of a nun, but she cherished it.
Pray for us sinners now--
She heard the gush of the sliding doors behind her.
—and at the hour of our death.
“Isi!”
Amen.
Isi crossed herself and kissed the knuckles of her right hand.
A young sister in her full blue and white habit plopped down on the bed. Freckles covered her pale cheeks and her light red eyebrows looked almost nonexistent under the bright fluorescent lights of the cabin. Her name was Penny. She and Isi were the youngest of the nun’s and so had been roomed together.
Penny grinned and tossed Isi’s habit at her. “Isi, we will have eternity to pray when we reach New Rome. Come see God’s Kingdom!”
Isi’s vow of silence prevented her from protesting. She could have simply shaken her head and Penny would have left her to her prayers. Her sisters were patient and respectful of her silence. Some of the younger girls, however, were always talkative, and would sometimes forget, occasionally sighing or looking at her with an expression of pity, as if her silence wasn’t self-inflicted.
Younger, Isi thought as she got to her feet and pulled her habit on, wrapping the wide blue stripes of cloth attached to either hip around her waist and securing them with a knot. I’m only 26 and I think of them as children, even those older than me.
Isi shook her head, reminding herself that she had been worse off than Penny when she was nineteen. But in a lot of ways, that was precisely why she felt older.
She felt like she had lived twice. She’d already made all her mistakes and left them in her past. Most of her sisters were cradle Catholics and hadn’t imagined half the things Isi had experienced. She wore her past on her skin. Tattoos up and down her arms, back, chest, and snaking up her throat. The suit covered all that, coming right up to her jaw line. The piercings in her face had all mostly grown over, though there was a distinct star shaped scar on her left cheek where a small uncut ruby had sat for many years. There was no official rule that stated the women of her order couldn’t have piercings, but with them gone when she looked in the mirror she could almost pretend she wasn’t a woman full of holes.
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
She put on her head covering, tucking her long black braids into the neck of her habit before concealing her head with the white cowl-like hood. Then she allowed an excited Penny to rush her from the room.
Hand in hand, they practically ran down the chrome halls that reminded Isi of the Vancouver subway, except for being void of the familiar graffiti that read ‘Find the Source’, ‘High as Heaven’, or ‘Only a dime for a lifetime’. Memories flashed by, phantoms on the walls standing side by side with her reflection.
The halls of the St. Laurentia were triangular. The walls on either side sloped into a point at the ceiling where a long, bright tube light changed colour and intensity depending on the time. It was currently a light pink, giving the white of their habits an artificial rose hue.
Penny’s enthusiasm was infectious. She was all giggles and dimples until they came to the meal hall. The geodesic dome had the same chrome walls, each panel a perfect triangle. It sat just above the flight desk, and Isi remembered thinking it made the craft look like it had the snout of a beluga whale.
At first Isi didn’t notice what had prompted Penny’s urgency, but then she realized that some of those panels were now clearing, becoming windows looking out into space. Slowly, more panels cleared as Isi watched, the meal hall looking as if it were drifting off into the void like a fogged mirror clears when you open a window.
Penny tugged her hand and pulled her close to the window.
“The Captain slowed the ship for a while, so we can see the stars.” Many of the other sisters and brothers were already gathered. Her eyes were alight with wonder as she stared out at the stars and her voice became a whisper. “What did I tell you? God’s Kingdom.”
“Empire, more like.”
Isi turned and found Pope Celestine VI standing directly behind her. She was still surprised by his youth. Likely late thirties, he still had a full head of jet black hair and a copper in his skin similar to her own, but most likely not from the same Miꞌkmaq blood. Italian or Greek most likely.
“Aren’t the stars beautiful?” Penny drawled, leaning against the windowed dome.
The unquantifiable sheer space on the other side unnerved Isi, and she couldn’t bring herself to get as close to the glass, but the stars were breathtaking. She’d only ever seen them before in films, or paintings. On Earth light pollution, and real pollution, hid the night sky from view almost everywhere on the planet. She’d always dreamt of laying in the grass on a cool summer evening, stargazing.
Maybe I’ll be able to see the stars from New Rome. Maybe I’ll get to see grass!
She felt a blush rise to her cheeks. Everyone around her was admiring deep space and she wanted to know if New Rome had grass.
It’s a good thing I’m silent. Saves me from asking dumb questions.
“Holy Father.” One of the brothers came up to Pope Celestine. The monks had redressed, as the nuns had, in their religious garments. The man wore a long gray robe, belted with a white cord. “It’s good to see you back on your feet.”
“That cryo trip took a lot out of me,” the Pope replied. Isi knew the scratch in his voice well. He was a smoker. The thought made her smile for some reason, thinking about this straight backed man, neatly combed hair, shoulders a perfect line, leaning against some obscure Vatican wall to steal a dart.
The monk smiled, showing a row of pristine white teeth. “Now that you’re rested, allow me to show you around the rest of the ship?”
“If you’d like,” Celestine said, though he didn’t seem eager.
The Pope and the brother retreated to the labyrinthine corridors of the Laurentia. Still exhausted from cryo, it didn’t take long for everyone else to follow. All except for Isi who stood staring into space thinking about her new home. The constellations would be different there. The air, the gravity, the sounds—there would be no birds in their gardens, no bees, no butterflies or lady bugs. No June bugs to hit the screens in the summer evenings.
For a moment she was sad to leave behind these simple pleasures, but they weren’t really hers. When had she last walked through a garden or seen a butterfly or listened to a bird’s song? These were the fantasies of 21st century films, when the world had been different. They’d never been her reality. What she left behind was filth and drugs and streets where it was impossible to tell the gaunt, starving children from the homeless elderly.
She left behind a life she’d already renounced, and she would welcome this new, clean one. This chance to truly be reborn.