Still, it somehow all seemed so drab, like any other northern city of Earth in the grip of winter. Not that she had visited such cities in person of course, but she had viewed them on the streaming sites often enough. There was even snow on some of the rooftops, and icicles hanging from a few of the eaves. According to what she’d read, the internal temperature inside the dome was regulated below freezing to keep the icy crust immediately below from melting: it wouldn’t do to have the dome sink into the moon.
The ice beneath her feet was sheathed in a translucent layer of polycarbonate, which carpeted the exposed ground throughout the interior. It was meant to make the surface less slippery for pedestrian and other road traffic.
Overhead, drones moved to and fro, buzzing away as they delivered food and other parcels. The futuristic craft seemed out of place, and almost anachronistic against the backdrop of that baroque architecture; she was reminded of the swarms that populated the air above Rust Town and Aradne. The humming machines definitely ruined any atmosphere the buildings were meant to evoke. She noticed that many of the payloads were a lot larger than she might see on Earth, which made sense, given the lower gravity: on Earth, a land-based robot or vehicle would be used for the bigger deliveries, but here the drones could carry packages seven times as heavy.
There weren’t that many citizens out and about, but those humans she saw were bundled in synthetic furs or parkas. The cyborgs among them wore skimpier attire, of course, and the robots nothing at all. But all of them, from robots to humans to cyborgs, used that bounding walk to travel from place to place. That said, the humans seemed to arc the closest to the ground, as if they were the weakest of the bunch. Their gait was almost Earthlike, but not quite. Will put them to shame with his wide, curving bounces.
“I think I understand why they call this place Centaar,” Will quipped, his breath misting. “Because everyone looks like a bounding centaur!” Shivering visibly, he wrapped his arms tightly around his chest.
Her breath misted in the cold too, but her cyborg body adapted quickly, and she felt little discomfort, unlike Will. She noted that the air smelled slightly better out here, though it still carried a hint of must.
So, uh, can we start heading toward the short-term rental?” Will asked. “Before I freeze to death?”
“Maybe we should go back inside so you can rent another spacesuit,” Horatio suggested.
“Funny robot,” Will said between chattering teeth.
“To the rental.” Rhea beckoned at Will, and he gladly took the lead. His backpack bobbed up and down in time to his bounding steps.
“After you, my lady,” Horatio said.
Rhea smiled at the robot and slid the sack over her shoulder to follow Will.
As she began that bounding walk, she smiled ever so slightly. The colony might not be as grand as she envisioned, but that didn’t change the fact that she was here. Actually here. On Ganymede.
I’m home.
5
Sometime later, Rhea found herself seated on the bed of her room, inside the short-term rental Will had arranged before they left Earth. She gazed through the window beside her, and out across the baroque buildings spread before her, toward the horizon and the walls of the opaque dome that enclosed the city. Heat poured from the vents beneath the window, warming her metallic body.
It felt strange, living here. Nobody knew who she was. She kind of preferred it that way. And yet, it did make her feel somewhat lonely. At least she had Will and Horatio.
As she gazed at that distant dome, she noted the way it subtly reflected the city below. The reflections were curved, matching the concave shape of the dome. So many buildings crammed together into one space.
Once again, she wondered if it would be possible to rebuild the old Ganymede. Now that she was here, she doubted it. The work involved… the cost… both were simply too great.
What would be the point, anyway? The Europans had done a well enough job. Perhaps it was best if she left the place well enough alone. After all, nothing could halt the inexorable passage of time, that cruel mistress, and the changes she wrought. People lived and died. Buildings aged and were replaced. On a larger scale, civilizations rose and fell. New nations cropped up to replace those that were lost. It was all so inevitable.
This moon belonged to Europa now.
Not to her people.
Not to her.
She turned her gaze away.
She hadn’t bother to apply the usual virtual decorations to this, her bedroom. What was the point? She didn’t need a fake Ganymede plastered over the window of the real one beyond: that would simply be deluding herself. And she hardly felt in the mood for a heroic painting of herself.
As I told Will and all the others long ago, I’m no hero.
She sighed, laying back on the bed, and shut her eyes.
What am I doing here?
A thumping came from Will’s bedroom. It grew louder and stronger with each passing moment until her bed began to vibrate in time to the thumps. She also heard muted moaning, both male and female.
It was getting annoying, so she got up.
She bound-walked into the hall, passing by the closed door to Will’s bedroom. Horatio’s bedroom, next to it, was open, but the robot didn’t reside within.
The ceiling was placed well above her, no doubt designed to support the bounding gait that was so common in this lesser gravity, allowing the occupants to advance without hitting the ceiling. Apparently not everyone enjoyed shifting their center of gravity so far forward to reduce the height of their arcs, as Rhea had trained herself to do
