4. Fostering #6
"They gather around a box that shows moving pictures like we have on our viewscreens and datapads.
But they tell stories, strictly for entertainment.
Comedies, dramas, horror even. And they're all fake but everyone does it!
In fact, they do it every night, as a family.
And frankly, from what little I watched myself, some of the stories aren't even good.
And they watch anyway because, from what I can gather, the 'watching together' is the point. "
Okay, Reyna had to admit that, up until the end, she wasn't thinking much of 'television.' But an activity merely for the purpose to spend time with loved ones? That can't be all bad.
But then, Jere discussed TV dinners. "They are complete meals in a metal tray that have been heated up, and then you eat them in front of the picture box, the television.
Altogether. Like a family meal but made for the entertainment box.
" Jere looked directly over at Elena again in her captain's chair.
"Elena, they've turned a meal into a convenience and a convenience into a tradition. "
This one, Reyna wasn't entirely sure she was on board with. But then Jere told her about one piece of Earth's culture that did capture her interest.
"Reyna, the humans on the planet drink the same beverage as their space travelers, whom they call 'astronauts.
' But they don't drink this ‘Tang’ because it tastes good.
" Jere paused for dramatic effort, beginning to chuckle before continuing.
"No, no. They drink it because it makes them feel connected to the people they sent into space!
" Jere threw up his hands. "They haven't even left their own galaxy yet, and they're already so proud of themselves for the little amount of space travel they've accomplished. "
"Aw, how cute," Elena remarked.
"It is, actually," Jere responded defensively, apparently fighting the fight to keep the Earthlings in respectable views.
"But, honestly. The best one? And this one you're both really going to love," Jere said, and Reyna had to admit she was leaning a little towards Jere to hear what he had to say next.
"They have these physical discs, discs that they’ve pressed music into, and they play them with a needle," he commented, turning to face Reyna now.
"A needle, Rey." Reyna looked at him and didn't break eye contact.
"They gather together and listen to the music on these discs, and then they dance.
In their homes, at gatherings, in front of one another.
For fun, for competition, for love." Jere softened at his last word. "And they do it all without training."
"Without training?" Reyna repeated. "They just... move?"
"Yes, they move. However they want. They let the music direct them based on how it makes them feel. Some of them are absolutely terrible at it," Jere said with a laugh. "But they do it anyway."
Something about the idea of sharing something that intimate with another being, without training or knowledge or practice, and just...
letting it happen... seemed different. But it landed in the middle of Reyna's chest in a way that made her reflect on what that could feel like with someone.
Someone she was connected to. Someone that mattered to her in ways she had yet to understand. That landed uniquely than all the rest.
At this point, Elena had given up trying to redirect the conversation toward the actual mission report.
She was leaning back in her chair watching Jere tell all his stories, and Reyna saw her expression not as one of annoyance that her mission report was long gone, but instead grateful and engaged at watching one of her best friends make the universe feel bigger and more worth caring about than any of them had before Jere returned.
"And they have this thing," Jere continued, producing a small, colorful object from his pack.
"They call it a peace sign. For them, especially in their world right now, it means they want the fighting to stop.
War and poverty and unjust actions throughout their planet.
They made a symbol for it, and they put it on everything.
From their clothes to on their walls and vehicles.
As if declaring it in as many places as possible, it might make it true. "
"Does it?" Reyna asked gently, wondering if something so simple could solve such a universal problem.
Jere looked up at her, and something in his expression shifted. For just a moment, the enthusiasm he'd been living on banked down to something quiet and painstakingly real.
"No," he said softly. "It doesn't. They fight.
Constantly. They hurt each other over territory and resources and ideologies, just like every other species we know.
" Jere went quiet, staring down at the symbol in his hand.
His smile started against his lips as he continued.
"But they keep making this symbol anyway.
They keep wanting it and showing it and wearing it around their necks and teaching it to their children.
" He turned the peace sign over in his fingers.
"They're remarkable, you know." He looked up at Reyna again.
"Humans. They live these short, fragile lives and they make every attempt to fill them with color, music.
Laughter. They don't know how small they are in the universe, but they still strive for the most hearty lives they can manage.
And somehow that makes everything they do feel... bigger."
The bridge went a sort of solemn quiet.
Reyna looked up at Jere, standing with his head hung as he examined the little Earth symbol he was holding.
The bridge felt smaller than it had a moment ago, and she felt the weight of Jere's words press down on the walls of the room.
She got up and fully stepped away from her console, crossed the few feet between she and Jere, and put her hand on his shoulder.
Jere looked at her hand and then up into her face.
"Tell me more about Jell-O," Reyna said, her smile big and genuine.
His grin came back like the sunrise.
Later that night, the ship was quiet.
Borran's kitchen was warm, as it always was, no matter the hour.
Tucked off a corridor next to the mess hall, it had become theirs years ago.
A place to relax and unwind after a long day, a place to share important conversations away from prying ears without having to be stuck in an office, and, most importantly, a place where they could shoot the shit when they needed some time to relax among each other.
Borran always had a way of leaving the lights on for them, the kettle heated, and snacks galore when he knew the three of them would be coming. Reyna had a suspicion that he listened for their footsteps, but she'd never asked. Some kindnesses were better left exactly where they were left.
Borran had started calling Elena "Boss" roughly two weeks into the refit, after watching her direct three construction crews, overrule a Coalition contractor, and reorganize the cargo hold ventilation system in one single afternoon. When he first said it out loud, Elena had looked at him curiously.
"Boss?" she'd repeated.
Borran nodded. "You run things. Must have a name no one else has."
"Boss," she said again. Then a smile spread across her face. "I'll take it"
And that was that.
Borran himself moved in the background now, setting out snack plates without being asked and refilling their drinks before they were ever empty.
Reyna had once tried to thank him for always having food ready and waiting on them, but he'd looked at her as if she'd thanked the walls for holding up the scaffolding.
"People eat," he'd said. "I cook. This is not complicated.
" She'd attempted to thank him time and again over the years, but it had always ended up the same, as though thanking him was preposterous.
But she'd also never missed a night in his kitchen when the three of them were aboard, and she suspected Borran considered that a more appropriate form of gratitude.
Elena, Reyna, and Jere were settled into their places with Elena across from Reyna and Jere between them with enough table space to spread whatever Jere had collected on his travels.
As just having come back from his time on Earth, tonight, he brought artifacts.
Things from Earth that Jere considered 'small and strange and wonderful.
' He had a set of colorful beads he said the Earthlings called "love beads," a small paper flower he'd collected at what he called a 'protest,' the same peace sign he'd showed them from the bridge.
But the one that grabbed Reyna's attention was a piece of paper called a postcard, something humans used to send tangible letters to one another across the planet.
This one was adorned with a picture of a place he said was called the 'Golden Gate Bridge,' which didn't make any sense to him since it was apparently neither golden nor a gate.
But, as was always the same with Jere, this contradiction delighted him enormously.
"I have to go back," Jere said softly, his happiness coming off him like heat waves. "There's so much more to see. Just the music alone. I mean, I can't even begin to tell you. The music there is phenomenal."
"You said that about the Jell-O," Reyna quipped.
"The Jell-O is also important," Jere said.
"Don't mistake that. But honestly, everything is important.
That seems to be the whole point of Earth.
" Jere stopped and looked down at his artifacts on the table.
"Everything these humans do, they do it like all of it matters.
Even the ridiculous things. Especially the ridiculous things," Jere said with a chuckle.