Dust and Echoes/In the Immediate Distance - Chapter 6 (Part 2)

There was a Savings Plus only a few blocks away from the Banden-Muldoon’s - walking distance since few of the buildings were over a couple of stories and ground-limited transportation was more than sufficient. There were many such establishments dotted across the Heirloom, each with its own separate layout. It was surely some sort of diabolical conspiracy, Thade was sure of it; nothing was ever where it should have been, which prompted any customer alien to the environment to subject themselves to all manner of modern monsters - usually taking the form of the common salesperson - in exchange for a hope at some sort of direction. These little stores paled in comparison to the colony’s one proud and shining Walton Mart, city-center and an integral part of every travel brochure. It was a mile high temple to high-class consumerism, in the metaphorical sense of course, and marked a sharp contrast from a handful of flat, two storey beige and green boxes.

“Welcome to Saver’s Plus, how can I help you today?”

Thade had barely seen her before she was upon him, smiling, baggy-eyed, and twitching with liquid energy. Thade engaged his reflexes, honed in combat for just such circumstances.

“Hello, uhh, Susan, how are you this morning?”

She smiled again, a little more naturally.

“I’m doing well, thank you. Is there anything in particular that you’re looking for?”

“Yes, in fact, there is. I can never seem to find the health snack section; I’m low on granola bars.”

Granola bars were, in fact, one of the few health foods that Thade did not feel meant subjecting oneself to unpleasantness in the name of a few extra minutes tacked on to one’s life decades down the line. In point of fact, there were many things he would have stopped eating had he figured out how healthy they really were; his mother had felt very strongly that ignorance was his body’s only defence against his mind’s notoriously bad dietary choices.

“Tenth aisle down, and to the left - and make sure to grab a free sample.”

Now it was Thade’s turn to smile. “Absolutely. They’re my favorite part!”

He rolled past the intervening rows, jumping onto the cart back and riding it as fast as a soap box car on a flat plane - that is to say, somewhat slowly. He resisted (with some difficulty) the boxes and boxes of mini chocolate donuts in aisle 42, and had to stop for a taste of some tiny plastic vessels of something labeled ‘Aztec Mocha’. Thoroughly impressed, he tagged a case for complimentary transport back to the Return.

It was one of his least expected but favorite things about being the captain of his own ship; he had complete stocking privileges, and all of the heavy lifting was taken care of for a change. It also seemed he would be making a killing off of his purchases this time around because of the Banden-Muldoon’s membership card; he recited some old adage in his head about the benefits of having ‘friends in high places”.

A familiar jingling danced through the store speakers, and Thade glanced at his watch. Hmm, I forgot it was that time of year. He turned his cart around, catching a blur flit along the inside of one of the racks of boxes. He looked for a second, hoping to confirm his suspicions of it being a child hiding amongst the cardboard forts as a younger Thade had often done, but the bells resumed their insistent rattling and eventually won his interest back to finding the checkout counter. On his way he thought of his friends, and their animals. He grabbed some toys, some treats, and a few things for the cat and dog, too.

“Some last minute Christmas shopping?” the attendant asked as he checked the first few items from the cart.

“Yea, I always forget the holidays when I’m traveling a lot.”

“Oh, where are you traveling from?”

The attendant moved from the cart items to a visual check of the list of transport items.

“Most recently? Geez, I think Patria was the last place I’ve been for more than a month.”

“Patria? In the inner colonies?” The attendant whistled. “That’s a long way from here.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Do you want a digital receipt for this?”

Thade waved him off. “No, that’s fine. Have a good day.”

Thade had never been very particular about Christmas, being of the first generations to ever be raised without the same seasons year after year. And anyways, a jolly old fat man in a red suit was sadly not as believable when delivering presents to every planet as well as to every house; and anyways, how well (or more accurately how long) reindeer fare in space is a depressingly well known fact. Saint Nic was still pulled out of the broom closet from time to time as a marketing mascot, though, and Thade did appreciate any opportunity to do something nice for those closest to him. He wrapped the gifts for Ava, Tim, and their cats, left them on their doorstep with a ‘Not Until Christmas’ disclaimer, and took the rest of the gifts he had bought, sporting addresses from across the Republic, to the mail station.

He rarely bought himself nice things because he relished the feeling of buying them for other people - as well as the feeling of saving enough money to be completely financially independent by 24; he loved the idea of being someone known for giving better gifts than he had been given, much to the chagrin of many of his more normal, student debt laden friends.

The icy afternoon breeze picked up, blowing through the trees with the sound of a distant train somewhere - laden with sleeping passengers and well away from its home or destination. Thade flipped up his collar and ducked into the nearest heated enclosure.

It was a curious shop, one where it seemed almost anything could be found so long as it had not been something that you were looking for. He dragged his finger along one of the shelves, and quickly removed it again before it trailed across a line of freshly caught spindled urchins. Sharp, sharp little things, but amazingly succulent. Took years after initially finding them to replicate the flavor and texture synthetically. He found groceries, supplies, incomplete spare parts and piles of scrap, and even a few action dolls like the ones his mother had tried to get him to play with as a child. Those action dolls were things that had never made much sense to him - he was all for raising children in a less heavily gendered environment, but dolls are creepy for kids of all ages and persuasions.

He was about to walk outside with a fresh knot of warmth sitting in between his ribs when something silver caught his eye, a lace ribbon made for tying around the neck - or for keeping one’s hair out of the way, and looking stylish as one does it. It was beautiful, but no more so than the ones next to it; the thing that caught his eye was that, though it looked simpler than anything else in the shop from far away, it became incredibly complex upon successive orders of closer inspection. He could make out patterns within the stitches, within the threads themselves - almost as if someone had worked painstaking artistry on each individual strand before even beginning the ribbon as a whole. It was wildly undervalued, the kind of thing that watched hundreds of eyes slide over it before finding the ones that could see its true value. He bought it with the overwhelming feeling that he was going to meet someone for whom this ribbon was created.

He had a collection of items like it, though generally of sentimental rather than true value. They each had their own history and sat in one of many secret compartments hidden around the Return, and they were each waiting for just the right person to be given to; This one a necklace from a dying jeweler as payment for a forgotten favor (somewhat plain, but the last he ever made), this one a book from a rich family friend, and this one his Nonna’s wedding ring that had slipped through his family’s slowly creeping fingers. Now there was this silver band from the edge of space, almost woven from the stars themselves.

Out on the street, he looked at his watch again. There were more streets to wander and little of this ring, let alone the city or the planet, had yet revealed itself to him, but it was almost eight o'clock and the hotel microwave was waiting. It did not promise good food, nor bad food, but only quick food that always worked as a source of sustenance.