jalapenos?”
Lupe sniffs, “I could, but what’s the point?”
“You were telling us how the War started,” Trevor prompts impatiently, licking beans off his hand.
“So I was,” Argos says, remembering the thread of his story. “So what with all the wars down there, the supply ships got real unreliable. Some of them were delayed for months or stopped altogether. You can understand how a country struggling to survive wouldn’t put a big priority on shipping water and food to some guys up in space. But for us, it was death. Corporations sponsored some of the colonies and governments put up most of the rest. Only a few, like Ithaca, were paid for by individuals.”
The blond cowgirl breaks in, “Really? I thought the orbitals were all paid for by rich old guys looking for a pleasure planet of their very own.”
Penelope shakes her head. “Nope. Old Larry raised money from individual investors who thought space burgers would sell like hell down there. But for the rest, if a corporation went bankrupt, the orbital was often just left to die. And if a government went to war, their orbital was the last thing on their minds.”
Argos’s face goes gray. “It was bad times,” he says quietly. “The colonies started working together just to survive. It seemed natural that if you were starving to death and the next colony over was about to lose power that you’d work together so you could both live. By the time the Earth started settling down, most of the colonies up here were already wondering what we needed them for. They abandoned us when we needed them most. Why should they tell us what to do now?”
Penelope interjects, “Can you imagine? Surviving by your own wits for years and then some government a thousand miles away tries to tell you they are going to dump a bunch of lead-footed dirt-loving settlers, mostly criminals and malcontents, on you in the name of public policy? Or a corporation fires you from a job that hasn’t paid you in years and now you have to pack up and leave the home that you fought with blood and tears to defend?”
The younger cowgirls and Trevor mutter revolution.
Argos says, “We already thought they were crazy down there, committing suicide by war. We thought we had a bird’s eye view of the end of the Earthers. We felt like we were the only people left in the galaxy. Then one day they start lecturing us, throwing their weight around like we were kids playing while Daddy was at work? Of course we were thinking revolution from the start.”
“Some were,” Penelope says sharply. “Most of us were just trying to get by. There are plenty of ways to die out here and some of us didn’t think picking a fight with the Earthers was a good way to go.”
She picks up some dishes and takes them to the sink.
Trevor protests, “Aw, Mom. Of course we had to fight the Earthers.”
Penelope snaps, “I had a baby to raise. Getting you to the age you are now was all I was thinking about in those days.” But she ruffles his hair.
Cesar looks away, the sight stings his heart.
“I want to hear the rest,” Trevor says mutinously as she pushes him towards the sink to help Lupe clean the dishes.
“Argos will tell that same tired story about Helen and Manny again tonight,” says Penelope sternly, pointing him back to work. “And he’ll ham it up and make them out to be comic-book superheroes even though he knows Helen is short and pudgy now and Manny has that gimp leg. Honestly, Argos, it might be better to let the kid watch Ether dramas.”
“Those things will rot his brain,” says Argos, though he never had enough brains himself to worry about, one way or the other. “Better he learn by talking to actual people about real things than all that make-believe muck. Oral histories were the best way to learn for thousands of years before they came up with the Ether.”
“But I want to know how it ends,” says Trevor, sticking out his lower lip.
Penelope sighs and rolls her eyes.
Lupe sniffs, “I could, but what’s the point?”
“You were telling us how the War started,” Trevor prompts impatiently, licking beans off his hand.
“So I was,” Argos says, remembering the thread of his story. “So what with all the wars down there, the supply ships got real unreliable. Some of them were delayed for months or stopped altogether. You can understand how a country struggling to survive wouldn’t put a big priority on shipping water and food to some guys up in space. But for us, it was death. Corporations sponsored some of the colonies and governments put up most of the rest. Only a few, like Ithaca, were paid for by individuals.”
The blond cowgirl breaks in, “Really? I thought the orbitals were all paid for by rich old guys looking for a pleasure planet of their very own.”
Penelope shakes her head. “Nope. Old Larry raised money from individual investors who thought space burgers would sell like hell down there. But for the rest, if a corporation went bankrupt, the orbital was often just left to die. And if a government went to war, their orbital was the last thing on their minds.”
Argos’s face goes gray. “It was bad times,” he says quietly. “The colonies started working together just to survive. It seemed natural that if you were starving to death and the next colony over was about to lose power that you’d work together so you could both live. By the time the Earth started settling down, most of the colonies up here were already wondering what we needed them for. They abandoned us when we needed them most. Why should they tell us what to do now?”
Penelope interjects, “Can you imagine? Surviving by your own wits for years and then some government a thousand miles away tries to tell you they are going to dump a bunch of lead-footed dirt-loving settlers, mostly criminals and malcontents, on you in the name of public policy? Or a corporation fires you from a job that hasn’t paid you in years and now you have to pack up and leave the home that you fought with blood and tears to defend?”
The younger cowgirls and Trevor mutter revolution.
Argos says, “We already thought they were crazy down there, committing suicide by war. We thought we had a bird’s eye view of the end of the Earthers. We felt like we were the only people left in the galaxy. Then one day they start lecturing us, throwing their weight around like we were kids playing while Daddy was at work? Of course we were thinking revolution from the start.”
“Some were,” Penelope says sharply. “Most of us were just trying to get by. There are plenty of ways to die out here and some of us didn’t think picking a fight with the Earthers was a good way to go.”
She picks up some dishes and takes them to the sink.
Trevor protests, “Aw, Mom. Of course we had to fight the Earthers.”
Penelope snaps, “I had a baby to raise. Getting you to the age you are now was all I was thinking about in those days.” But she ruffles his hair.
Cesar looks away, the sight stings his heart.
“I want to hear the rest,” Trevor says mutinously as she pushes him towards the sink to help Lupe clean the dishes.
“Argos will tell that same tired story about Helen and Manny again tonight,” says Penelope sternly, pointing him back to work. “And he’ll ham it up and make them out to be comic-book superheroes even though he knows Helen is short and pudgy now and Manny has that gimp leg. Honestly, Argos, it might be better to let the kid watch Ether dramas.”
“Those things will rot his brain,” says Argos, though he never had enough brains himself to worry about, one way or the other. “Better he learn by talking to actual people about real things than all that make-believe muck. Oral histories were the best way to learn for thousands of years before they came up with the Ether.”
“But I want to know how it ends,” says Trevor, sticking out his lower lip.
Penelope sighs and rolls her eyes.
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