Sam is sitting on the ground with a small mark on his forehead. Harriet sits next to him with her head on his shoulder.
Sam:What’re we supposed to be talking about again?
A new voice speaks off-screen, and the camera swivels, revealing a wide shot of the barn. The barn is filled with multiple charging pods for the honeybee drone robots, which at this point are still outfitted strictly for agriculture. (See exhibit 2 entitled “The Honeybee Drones.”) This is a tall, twenty-five-year-old male colonist with dark hair. He is Oliver Lewis. (See exhibit .) He has a large wrench in his hand, and it appears he is in the engine compartment of a combine harvester.
Oliver:You’re supposed to be talking about our band.
Rosita:Ollie, don’t talk! The camera will track you.
Oliver grins and holds up his hands, which are black with oil.
Oliver:It’s not my fault if the camera loves me.
Sam:I gotta ask. How many dirty movies have you two made with this camera anyway? And can Harriet and I borrow it?
Rosita (to Oliver, laughing):Just let us do this, okay? You said we could use your barn. This lighting is only going to last a little longer.
Oliver:I gotta go check on my sister in the north fields anyway. I’ll see you tonight, beautiful.
Rosita:See you tonight.
Oliver, still grinning, drops the wrench, which clatters loudly; then he rubs his hands on his pants and goes outside.
Harriet (to Sam as the camera swings back to the couple):Why don’t you ever call me “beautiful”?
Sam:Because you already know how I feel about you, babe.
He puts his arm over Harriet’s shoulder. She makes a derisive snort, but she nuzzles closer to him.
Rosita (sighs):Tell us more about the band.
Sam visibly brightens.
Sam:We’re called the Rhythm Mafia. It’s Ollie on drums, our friends Tito and Axel on guitars, and me on bass. I’m basically the singer now after Ollie’s sister, Lulu, quit, but I’m not very good. We’re looking for a new one. We practice once a week if we can. But during harvest, it can get hard to find time to get together. And sometimes we get together and we don’t actually practice. We just talk and drink.
Harriet:Sometimes?
Rosita:Why doyoustill do it? I asked Oliver, and he says he likes band practice. Axel says it’s Tito’s favorite thing in the world. I get that they like it, but none of them can explain why. What about you? You say you’re not very good. You’ve never played a show. There’re not too many people to play for even if you did set up a concert. You put that one song online, but I saw it has less than a hundred downloads.
Sam reaches over and kisses Harriet on the top of the head. She snuggles even closer to him. He leans into the camera.
Sam:Don’t get me wrong. I love Harriet, and I love that I’m having a kid with her. We’re doing what we’re supposed to be doing, and I won’t ever regret that. Our great-great-grandparents all died on aspaceship so we could have a place of our own. But is that it? If that’s all we’re doing, how does that separate us from all the other animals out there? Have you seen how sad the old people around here are? Have you ever looked into the eyes of Mrs.Xalos? Or Mr.and Mrs.Gonzales? I love them, but what do they have? Do you see how empty they are? It’s like they’re zombies.
The camera starts to zoom in tight on Sam’s face.
Sam:No, we’re not good. We’re never going to be famous musicians. But it doesn’t matter. When I’m with my best friends playing our stupid little hearts out, I’m not thinking about the farm or that biological imperative to have kids or anything other than the music. Yeah, I do want to play a show one day. I want to play a concert, even if it’s just for Mr.Yanez’s magic chickens. That’s all we really have here. But at least it’ssomethingthat separates us from the animals. It’s joy, it’s happiness, it’s life beyond just procreation. And if we don’t have something like that, then what’s the point?
Chapter 2
“Oliver, what is the square root of 576?”
“I don’t care,” I said as we trudged south through the mud and knee-high reeds. AsItrudged through the mud. Roger buzzed over my head, zipping back and forth, constantly commenting on how slow I was moving. “Nobody needs to know that sh…stuff.”
Roger buzzed angrily as he passed. “That is incorrect. Oliver, I am worried about your progress. Your New Sonoran and Earth history scores are adequate, but your arithmetic is lacking. We must quiz.”
I watched the rickety old bot zip forward in the air, leading the way. I sighed.Damn you, Grandpa Lewis,I thought for the millionth time. Sometimes I wondered if he’d planned it this way, deliberately leaving the nanny system installed. Lulu certainly thought so.
“Maybe we can wait until tomorrow when the other two scouts are recharged, and we can send them out.” My boot made a sucking noise as I took a step. “Or you can go alone.”
