I was reading one of Einstein’s old papers on my holo when Rio showed up at my bunk pod.
“Why aren’t you packing?” Rio asked. “You know you have to finish before the Celebration tonight.”
Rio is the golden child of the Vida. Everyone loves him. He’s first in our class, he’s on the ship’s council, and he’s even good at sports. If he weren’t my best friend, I would hate him.
“I don’t have much to pack. All my books are on here.” I waved the holo at him.
“Look, I know you’d rather stay in your room and read about time travel. But the Landing Day Celebration isn’t just some fancy dinner. It’s important. Everyone has to go,” he said. “Don’t you read the morning bulletins? You read everything else.”
“You sound like my parents.”
His face turned serious. “You know they just want what’s best for you, Astra,” he said.
You mean they just want what’s best for the ship, I thought.
My parents were a big deal on the Vida. My mom managed the ship’s food supply. My dad was in charge of the hab pod. People put their survival in my parents’ hands.
Then there was me. I knew my parents loved me. But I think we all wondered whether I’d snuck onto the ship from another planet. I could never remember my chores or where I was supposed to be. One time I even burned dinner because I was reading and forgot about it. We have a limited amount of food on the Vida. Wasting it is one of the worst things you can do.
The only time I felt like myself was when I was in the ag pod with Oma. The ag pod was where we kept the plants that would become our food crops on Rubin 23V. Oma had designed the ag pod and the plants—a hardy grain called teff.
The best part of the ag pod was the flower garden. Oma had used real soil from Earth. I used to love running my fingers through the dirt, thinking about a planet I’d never see. I’d spend hours in the ag pod, talking with Oma about Einstein and time travel.
“I brought you this,” Rio said. I snapped out of my daze as he tossed a small object at me. “I found it on the floor of my pod. You must have dropped it.”
I picked it up. It was the size of my palm. The surface was cracked. I could tell from the thumbscreen that it was some kind of holo drive.
“This isn’t mine,” I said.
“Your name is on it,” Rio said.
I turned the drive over. ASTRA was carved into it in jagged letters.
“But it’s not mine—” I stopped. I could tell Rio didn’t believe me.