Callisto 2.0 by Susan English (e novels to read online .txt) 📕

had a faraway look. I had a sudden vision of her standing on the top of a mesa, looking out toward the horizon, the wind blowing her hair from her face. “Our elders teach us we are intertwined with nature and its cycles, we are a part of the natural environment, and our destinies are linked together in a great web of life. We Hopi cannot put the needs and desires of human beings above nature, it is a foreign idea to us. We see humanity as an integral part of a living whole, and we are taught everything—

rocks, plants, the rabbit, coyote, human beings, the wind—all have a spirit, which is part of a unifying life force flowing in and through all things. Everything in the Universe is bound together by this profound, unfathomable energy.”

I was reminded of my conversation with Elena—Pavani’s words echoed hers.

Perhaps that explained why they sat together so often, why they had formed such a strong bond so quickly. My body shifted closer to Pavani, apparently of its own volition.

“We cannot understand the ideology that humans are separate from nature, from the environment, from the Earth. Many cultures view nature as an obstacle to overcome or a source of resources to be exploited for the benefit of humans. They see it as something to be dominated. This is also a foreign concept for us.”

I sat silently, fascinated, willing her to continue.

“To be Hopi is to respect and live in harmony with the natural world, and to give thanks. It is our moral obligation to care for nature. To be Hopi is to stand in awe with the Universe.”

“Wow,” I whispered.

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“Some people might consider our beliefs to be antiquated or even silly, but even though I’m a trained scientist, I cherish and honor that part of my heritage.”

“I understand.”

“Yes, I know.” She looked me straight in the eyes, and I caught my breath. “Naomi has told me how you are with the mice, your connection. You might have a bit of Hopi in your blood.”

I burst out laughing. “I don’t think so, have you seen this hair?” I put my hand on my head.

Pavani laughed. If her smile was radiant like a star, her laugh was like the sound of crystal-clear water flowing in a pristine brook. I felt my insides melt. I looked down at my hands, breaking eye contact, and shrugged. “I love animals, always have.” Glancing up, I peeked at her through my lowered lashes. I had the impression she could see through me, to my true self, and I felt exposed. Her expression was calm and relaxed, and she continued to look at me steadily. I raised my head and looked into her eyes—

so dark and mysteriously alluring. I felt like I was falling through the Universe itself. It was a bit unnerving, but at the same time exhilarating, and I didn’t want the sensation to end.

“So, to answer your question.”

I cocked my head. My question? I wasn’t sure what she was talking about. I had been standing with her on the mesa, the wind on my face, sharing in the awe.

“Why I chose biology.”

“Oh.”

“It’s the collective pain of the tremendous loss of life, the rampant destruction of ecosystems, that drove me to pursue resurrection biology. In the past hundred years, we’ve lost over fifty percent of the world’s species, thanks to humans.” She paused, then added, “Though I’m not very fond of the term.”

“Too much of a biblical connotation?”

“I prefer de-extinction.” She looked at me out of the corner of her eye. “And what’s your take on religion?”

“Hm, that’s a loaded question.” I thought for a moment. “I stopped going to church with my parents when I was eight. I asked my Sunday school teacher after class if was it only people who went to heaven, or if dogs went, too. She was distracted, probably looking for her friends, and didn’t have time for me. ‘No, dogs don’t go to heaven, don’t be ridiculous,’ she said, without even a moment’s hesitation. That was the end of my religious life. I wasn’t interested in any heaven that didn’t allow dogs.”

Pavani regarded me, the skin around her eyes crinkling slightly. “You come from church people, then?”

“I never heard that term before, but yeah, I guess I do.”

“Are you fully recovered?”

I broke into laughter. “Let’s say, ninety percent? Maybe ninety-five, on a good day.”

She laughed—that beautiful, mellifluous laugh. I loved the way she thought, how she 224

expressed herself, how her face transformed when she was amused or happy.

“I’d better get to bed,” she said, “lots to do tomorrow.” She stood up, and I did, too, the spell broken. “See you later, Calli.” She propelled herself toward the door. Then, without a backward glance, she was gone.

Slowly I registered the noise in the room, the other women of Shambhala talking and laughing. I hadn’t even realized we weren’t still alone. I pushed myself out the door and went to my quarters. I didn’t have any desire to socialize; instead, I wanted to sit and contemplate Pavani’s words, to remember her smile, her laugh.

◆◆◆

Sunday afternoon, I was comfortably ensconced on the couch in Naomi’s lab, spending quality time with a few of the mice. I was trying to be with them as often as possible now that half their family was back on the Moon. Naomi had left that Friday for her usual weekend visit, but I expected her to come back to the lab at any minute. I had four mice with me. Aster, as always, had climbed up my body and put her snout against my neck. I could just feel the barest hint of her breath against my skin. The other three were clinging to my jumpsuit, their bright eyes fixed on my face.

The lab door opened, and I looked up, expecting to see Naomi. When she entered the lab, followed by Pavani, I sat up quickly, the mice gripping my jumpsuit with their tiny claws to keep from flying off my body. My heart, such an unreasonable organ, was beating rapidly in my chest. Seeing Pavani, I was immediately transported to the night of the social.

“Hey, Calli!” said Naomi.

“Hey, Naomi, hi Pavani,” I said, keeping my voice steady.

Pavani pushed herself over to the couch and sat down beside me. Naomi sat at her console.

“Who are your friends?” asked Pavani. Four pairs of eyes were staring intently at Pavani, four noses twitching in unison.

“This,” I said, stroking Aster’s head with my finger, “is Asteria. She and I are thick as thieves.”

Naomi let out a snort of laughter. “I wonder how you come up with such sayings, Calli!”

I laughed nervously, glancing at Pavani. Her face was relaxed, nearly expressionless, but I detected the slightest hint of a smile in her eyes. I indicated the mouse on my chest. “This little beauty is Hera. Asteria and Hera are our valiant warp travelers. These two,” I looked at my lap where two mice were snuggled next to each other, and touched each in turn, “are Helen and Clytemnestra. They are always together, right Naomi?”

“Uh-huh, they are thick like thieves.”

I broke into laughter. “Thick as thieves, as, not like.”

Naomi gave an exaggerated shrug. “What do I know, it’s your silly expression.”

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Pavani laughed. Oh, how I loved to hear her laugh.

“Can you tell Naomi is into Greek mythology?” My eyes shifted to Pavani’s face, then I looked away.

“Can I hold one?” she asked, stroking Hera’s tiny head tenderly.

“Of course!”

She gently picked up Hera, placing the little creature on her chest. Hera crawled up her jumpsuit, laying her head against Pavani’s neck. Pavani laughed again. “Hey, that tickles!”

“The whiskers,” I said.

After a few minutes, Pavani took Hera and gently placed her on my leg. “I’d better get back to work.”

“Okay,” said Naomi as Pavani pushed herself toward the door. “See ya.”

I looked at Pavani, and she met my gaze. “Thanks for introducing me.”

I smiled at her, then lowered my eyes. I heard the door shut softly behind her, and felt my heart beating in my chest.

◆◆◆

I felt an inexplicable eagerness to get to the social the next Friday night. Arriving early, I sat at one of the chairs looking out of the observation window, glancing furtively at the door every time it opened. The room slowly filled with women, and then Pavani was beside me, her hand on the back of my chair. I looked up at her, surprised. Despite my vigilance, I hadn’t noticed her come in.

“What a view,” she said. A shiver ran down my spine, and I could just feel her breath on the back of my neck. “Mind if I join you?”

I indicated the chair next to mine with a gesture of my hand, my throat suddenly dry.

Just then, there was an eruption of laughter from a group of women on the other side of the room, and my heart felt lighter. Their joy was contagious.

Pavani settled into her chair. I glanced down as she hooked her foot expertly on the rung. She gave me a demure smile.

“I’ve been meaning to ask how you’re adapting to micro-g. But looks like you’re getting the hang of it.”

She leaned toward me, glancing around, and whispered, “The worst thing is peeing.”

Trying to keep a straight face, I arched my eyebrow. “Come on, it’s not that bad.”

She stared at me in disbelief. “We’re not experiencing the same thing, then. Going to the toilet in zero-G,” she said, grimacing slightly. “And I don’t even want to admit how many times I didn’t use the equipment correctly. Vacuuming up floating blobs of urine is not my idea of a good time.”

I burst out laughing, and soon she was laughing, too, tears springing to her eyes. Her whole being was transformed, and she was like a little girl, carefree and happy. It was a beautiful sight to behold.

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“Okay, you’re right, I’ll admit, it’s pretty awful,” I said, when our laughter subsided.

“But being in micro-g is so fun, it’s like being a kid again.”

Her wonderment about microgravity and her sense of humor showed me another side of Pavani, and I was even more drawn to her, with her impish grin and sparkling eyes.

We talked and laughed for hours. When I finally looked around the room, I saw we were the only two people left in the observation deck. I took a deep breath. “I didn’t realize it was so late.”

Pavani scanned the room. “We’re the last ones. I didn’t even notice. Pleasure and action make the hours seem short.”

I stared at her.

She smiled. “Shakespeare, Othello.”

“Now you’re quoting Shakespeare? You’re full of surprises.”

“I think I can trust you with this.”