How to Grow Old

Nantano Xian helps Betani prepare for departure, his Sel body moving gently. The air is warm and dry, though with high wind. Everything heats and cools quickly. Most don't walk about outside but before light, and when it falls. But most just don't walk outside—except for perching on their oval balconies for brief moments. Humans struggle to breathe for longer periods of time, so they must keep oxygen masks on hand. Betani squirms, considering how it will be at the Near Edge—outside with no mask needed.

"You should bring an extra, just in case." Nantano urges Betani. She only intended on taking one mask for the way there. Betani didn't argue as he handed her another. "There are too many unknowns." He adds.

Nantano quickly reached into her pack and throws out some clothing. "Few will prove useful. You must borrow clothes from the station."

"Borrow?"

"I assume they'll have extra on hand. If not, Aliyah should be kind enough to lend you some."

"What's wrong with mine?"

"Remember the memories you witnessed in the Archives—the Smaranjans are not receptive to outsiders, as you know. Wearing something easily identifiable would be wise."

Betani knows so many things about the Smaranjans, their culture, their beliefs, and values—though why did she not consider this a very simple thing? Her cheeks flush. 

"What should I expect?" Betani sighs, humbling herself. 

Nantano considers, pausing in reflection. His Sel hands rest on top of Betani's freshly laundered cloak, neatly folded, and he presses it.

"I know what the Archives show me—but it will be different, right?"

"It won't. And yet, it will."

Betani half-smiles. Nantano's voice is now harsh, "It will be everything you see, feel, and hear in the Archives—except a hundred times more."

"And It won't be through someone else's experience—it will be my own."

"Correct."

"Which means?"

"It means that you must remain—detached."

"Detached?"

"Manage yourself. Don't empathize the way I know you do in the Archives — "

"But, how will I—"

"It's time you learn to not always experience your emotions so intensely, Betani. Observe them; you can and should. Emotions are information, but you cannot always trust what they tell you." Nantano stands up straight and places his Sel hand on Betani's shoulder, "You will not be simply watching anymore—-sifting through others' memories and mastering false imitations. You will interact with a real world, creating ripples." 

Betani has spent years looking through the eyes of others, practicing by imitation, creating false memories—which are not a true contribution to the Archives; her practice work takes up space, and often she wishes it gone. One can tell that it's not real by the input and output signature, which is only her voice repeating the message: "Test" followed by a number. She has delivered thousands, many favored for their quality as her artistry progressed remarkably. But relaying real memories from scratch is the genuine test Betani has been itching for.

"Understood." Betani says.

"Very well. Now consider your hair now. Aliyah always wore a traditional braid style. Do you know how to?"

Betani looks down, feeling unprepared after all these years of study. Then, she recalls it, a memory of three Smaranjan girls braiding each other's hair. The hair was intricately styled with tight braids woven into an updo. She must have been of importance, a chief's daughter perhaps, Betani wonders. The other two wore much simpler styles. Betani decides with her longer hair she should emulate the third girl, who wore two braids started tight to the head, broken off at the base of the skull into one long one.

"I can fix up something." She assures him.

"Good. Have everything readied tonight. Get ample rest. Once you arrive at the station, guards will escort you on foot." 

"How far will you come?"

"I will depart at the station. You will travel by pod. A Souxian guard will escort you part of the way to the large bridge to Near Edge afterwards.

"The bridge—how long will it take me to cross?"

"Prepare to camp, eat, and sleep there. It may take an entire days time."

Betani sits, her golden brown skin going pale, as her mouth drops open. Tears form as her emotions swell. She knew the bridge was nearly a hundred and sixty kilometers long — though she did not comprehend that length in trekking terms. Nearly an entire day cycle, she would set out alone. Alone.

"What if something happens?"

"We will prepare you for the worst. We will test the weather prior to, to ensure a smooth journey. You will carry everything you need on your back."

"Won't that be heavy?" 
Nantano pulls out more unnecessary items from Betani's pack, a sizable hair dryer, and other hygienic and cosmetic supplies. He also removes the stationary."No need for stationary. You will record everything with your Zu"

"What's a Zu?"

"I will show you—first light. Zu will bond with you, do as you command, and record all events that you need."

"Wait, so you mean I do not need to recall everything myself?"

Nantano Xian laughs. That's nearly impossible for humans. Your Zu will help you, linking with your mind to expand recall abilities. Think of it like adding storage space to your brain, in a careful, organized way. When the moment comes, you will need your Zu to aid in the harvesting of memories and information, which later you will access again when you are ready to recreate them in the Archives."

It made more sense to Betani why she need not practice with actual memories thus far. She will imitate her own memories. No true change will occur in technique. Accurately remembering a slight change in facial expression, object of importance, or word said requires no strain. It will be all the same, except that Betani will have experienced everything firsthand—and have an excellent remembrance of it with the help of her Zu.

"Did Aliyah have a Zu?"

"We assign one to all Devine servants with field work; it's protocol. We would not rely on human memory alone. However, we retired Aliyah as a servant, resulting in the discontinuation of her Zu."

"Does her Zu still contain all the memories? Could someone else see them?"

Nantano Xian folds his Sel arms, shaking his Sel head, "Not a chance. Each Zu only links with one person—It's pointless." 

"Why?" Betani presses.

"Everyone's mind perceives the world differently—colors, textures, sounds—believe it or not, they will never feel, look, or sound the same to another."

"So it's not impossible."

"Technically, no—but the Zu records memories as they actually are, and assists the brain in recall, correcting perceptual anomalies. Humans are flawed, Betani. Their perspective is shaped by their own truth, not by the actual reality of things.

Betani felt perplexed considering the difference between what she sees versus another human being—could it really be so different she wondered? And what about the Souxians she considered further? They must see much more.

"Do Souxians perceive things differently than one another?"

"Full of questions tonight, aren't you?"

Betani sighs, realizing herself to be out of line, "Apologies, Nantano Xian."

Nantano Xians stern expression softens as a smirk forms, "How could I expect any differently? After all, I am your Rovis."

Betani smiles, "It's true. Your expertise has quickened me, morphed my mind into pure curiosity."

"Curiosity is difficult to satisfy. I'll warn that it's just as much a curse."

"What harm has it done?"

Nantano clears his throat. "Nothing for you to concern yourself with, young lady. You have an arduous journey ahead of you."

Betani stands up straight. "You make it sound as if I'll never return."

"I have faith you will not follow in Aliyah's footsteps. Though only uncertainty is certain."

"I'll finish up here."

"Everything else looks acceptable for packing." Nantano Xian turns, his white-collared cloak and dress trails behind him. He starts toward Betani's door. She lives in her own dwelling, smaller, and next to his. He turned back to Betani, saying, "Betani—"

"Yes?"

A noticeable pause before speaking. "Don't forget to braid your hair tonight. Make it neat."

"Of course Nantano Xian."

His Sel eyes a subtle glow in the dim light. Nantano smiles a thin line before he exits the door, closing it behind him. It clicks.

All of Betani's auburn hair rests to one side, just below her chest. She sighs, sweeping it up, gently combing her fingers through the tangles, and turns toward an oval mirror on the wall. After her fingers run through without stopping, she parts her hair down the center with her long index finger nail; all her nails are quite long, though plain and unpainted.

Starting to her left side, she grabs three sections of hair from the front. The strands get stuck together. She wets her fingers with her tongue. Trying again, she grabs the sections, crosses them, and begins adding hair to the sides before crossing them over the middle again. Somehow, the sections seem uneven. She drops them, starting again after undoing the braid. After two more attempts, she makes it further along, but her arms are tired so she rests, holding the unfinished braid in place. A lot of effort, she thinks, for hair alone. After continuing, she stops at the nape of the neck and secures the braid with a temporary hair pin. She shakes her arms out before starting on the other side. She takes one last attempt on this side until both sides match in symmetry enough to move on to the final braid, joining both sections of hair at the base of the neck. Betani's task might take an hour, perhaps longer. Her reflection appears satisfied.

She adds a few things; the weight increases. Grabbing the pack, she slings it on her back and walks around the room. It's manageable. She imagines crossing the bridge with it, and it suddenly feels much heavier. But there was nothing more she could remove now, and everything inside she needs. Yet, she still doesn't have her Zu. How much will it weigh, she wonders? Why hadn't she previously encountered a Zu? Did Aliyah ever have them in her memories? She couldn't recall.

The clock on the wall chimes at midnight. Betani yawns. Her arms ache. Most Souxians despise clocks, not understanding the foolish need. They had an impeccable internal clock of their own. Nantano didn't find the need for one himself either, though still fascinated by the engineering, secured one for Betani as a gift.

Betani prepares for sleep, though her hair isn't perfect. It's neat. By morning, it will be less so. Once she gets to the Near Edge, maybe the Smaranjan's will help her with her hair. Or maybe they will scold her? Laugh? For now, she just needed to make it appropriate enough that Nantano wouldn't hound her in the morning as she departs. But she reminds herself that this isn't Nantano's trip. It's hers. She was finally getting the field work she always yearned for. Learning how to simulate and form memories in the Archives has been intriguing, but it's time to find some new material of her own and make real contributions.

Her bed feels comfortable, and she attempts to savor it. Nevertheless, she is unaware of the accommodations awaiting her below. As she drifts to sleep, she tries to imagine what it will be like to meet the Smaranjans—and Aliyah. She tries not to focus too much, stressing herself out over crossing the bridge. The memories she obsessed over at the Archives replay in her mind—the black line, the man, and another version of him—will she meet him? Is he still alive? Or, Is this the same man, and if so, will he be different? And now what about the word the Suni telepathically revealed. Reticent: A defected Souxian.