Erika Yong

them were there, at the place where the beginning ended and the end began. The place of beginnings, the place of endings. The final frontier and the first step into the unknown. He wanted to see what lay beyond. Space - it was everything to him. It was the celestial cavern where humanity was but a mere speck of dust sifting about, guided by forces beyond comprehension that moved stars and shifted galaxies. It was the place where all the unseen possibilities could take form, where the scene that lay in front of the boy’s eyes could be realized. To spread his wings when he could finally graduate from the

Academy and to move out towards the cosmic darkness where everything was open. Where things were far apart and everyone had the space they wanted. Where he could feel alone for once, occupied with nothing but himself and his thoughts. Everything here on Earth was too cramped. Not enough space to move around. People living together in crowded apartments crammed into gargantuan skyscrapers where the cities were. Everything here on Earth was too close. Not enough space to feel like you could be alone. Everyone knew everyone else. People knew the names and the secrets and the dramas and the scandals of everyone else around them. Nothing felt as private as it should’ve been. SpaceNet was his escape.

There, space was a concept, and only a concept; in the world of SpaceNet, he could come and go as he pleased, moving about anywhere he wanted.

He could take a gander around the stations in the Outer Systems on

HoloReality, or visit domains to see the newest publication about

Frontier Exploration. The world–no, universe–was his; all he had to do was to move, to explore, to wander about and to see what the infinite vastness could take him. What the infinite vastness could show him. Wonder? Awe? Or perhaps something greater than that? The perpetual half-dusk, 31|The penchant|| JAN 2021

Where he could feel alone for

once, occupied with nothing

but himself and his thoughts.

half-dawn of Schicksal. The permanent eclipse of Genesis. The frozen monoliths on Atran. What did one feel, living on worlds so different from the neon cityscapes he had seen his whole life? One day, he’d see for himself what the Frontier was about. New things, new experiences, new ideas, new people. He wanted to know what it was like to do those things, to undergo those experiences, to think about those ideas, to meet those people. One day, he’d do it. He wanted to know. And so, he’d keep looking. ~ Looking back, it must have been coincidence that he found that first video. Out of the billions of music videos on SpaceNet, and for him to come across that while drifting about listlessly on AutoPlay? The chances were infinitesimally small, one in a billion–no, a trillion, even. The video itself hadn’t been particularly amazing at first glance, either. The first shot had opened with some blurred stock video footage of light shining through trees before abruptly cutting to some take of a satellite passing by overhead, accompanied by the sound of strings. Then, it had shifted to a picture of a full moon as the track transitioned into some classic samba with guitar, strings, a drumset, and the faint strains of what sounded like a piano in the background. The audio had a scratchiness to it, as if the person had been trying to replicate the phonograph record effect from over 200 years ago, but had failed miserably, since the static was just loud enough that he had to concentrate to hear the instruments. Overall, nothing particularly impressive. He could understand why the video itself had less than 1000 views and absolutely 0 follows. Anyone could have taken the half-a-dozen shots of Frontier scenery and buildings with better grace than the creator had, and even though he didn’t have any editing experience, he was fairly sure that he could’ve done something to make the animation of a full moon and the spinning figure in the center of the video much better than the low-resolution mosaic that occupied the center screen for the entirety of the 4 minutes and 25 seconds. “Fly me to the moon…” the voice that hit his ears after, however, had taken him by surprise. “And let me play among the stars…” he had nearly dropped his NetBoard. “Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars…” The singing… just, wow. The voice was soft but clear, with a light grace to it that he never would’ve expected from such an amateur video. “In other words, hold my hand...” The singer had amazing pitch control, too; the voice harmonized with the background instruments perfectly, mixing in to create a beautiful melody despite the audio scratches. “In other words, baby kiss me…” 4 minutes and 25 seconds. Pure bliss. It wasn’t until his NetBoard had let out a click to let him know it was transitioning to the next song that he had broken out of his trance. And before the next song started, he had jumped backwards and hit replay for another time, content to close his eyes and let the music flow through his head. He couldn’t stop listening to the song. It was just that good. Because despite everything bad about the video, despite everything from the crappy space shots to the low-resolution animation that was constantly spinning in center screen, the singing was phenomenal enough to balance out the scales. He could feel the singer’s passion, the emotions in her voice permeating throughout the whole song. There was a fragile beauty in her voice that made the song feel like a dream–untouchable and fleeting. Who was she, to make such a song so beautiful yet lonely? He wanted to know. Lying on his bed, NetBoard at his side set on Loop, he stretched a palm towards his ceiling. Out there, somewhere… could she be feeling what he was feeling right now?