Interlude 2.3: Tales of Ambition
0014: Ambition private colony, Residential bloc 5e
Open spaces, fresh air, the bright, warm light of the sun speckling your skin. Come to Concorde and find your peace
The off white recycled paper barely contrasts the thin ink of the printed advert. She sighs as she turns the page - or tries to. It takes a moment to notice the pink, slightly pudgy finger pressing the page down
“Mom, what’s that?” she asks, curiosity incarnate.
“It’s an advert, sweetie. The newspapers print them to-”
“No,” interrupting with a tired and insistent tone. “What is that?”
She looks closer, seeing the skin blanching, fingertip bent slightly back under the pressure of insistent pointing. “The tree?” She asks. A totally pointless question, receiving a confused frown, parroting the question back “Tree?”
She’s 5 years old and she doesn’t know what a tree is…
“It’s like…like you know the algae farms you visited last month? Like a tall algae that can stand on its own and-”
“Wow!” excited eyes sparkle with wonder as she looks closer. “And there’s so many! Look, they go all over the ground and… Is that why there’s all this water here?”
“The lake here? Yeah, trees drink water from the ground and grow with the sun, cleaning the air for us! They’re all over Garden, and-”
“And mommy works to bring them here right? In the terror former?”
“TerrAformer sweetheart -”
10 minute warning the speaker announces from the wall
“Quick sweetie, time to get to bed!” Storytime cut short by the necessities of living on the edge of possibility. It takes an age to tuck the excited child under her thick blankets, check the heating and vacuum seals and close the thermos shutter.
“Stay warm sweetheart” she says through the wall mic, a second before the lights power down as the limited electricity is rerouted from residential to industrial use.
When she gets back from her shift, she’ll find the advert inexpertly cut from the paper and smile.
0016: Ambition private colony, Excelsior educational centre
“She’s the best artist I’ve ever seen go through this school,” the young teacher excitedly blurts. “I mean there are kids twice their age who haven’t got half her understanding of perspective and shade”
She smiles down at her daughter, who swings her legs absentmindedly, sucking on a sweet and looking out the tiny portholes that pass for windows. Quadruple glazed and internally reflective for maximal heat retention.
“I’m not really much of an artist myself… Not sure where the natural talent came from!”
“I mean look at these sketches - trees, Jupiter … And you’re saying she’s had no private tutoring?”
She barks out a short laugh “on my salary? I can barely keep up with the heating bill, let alone splash out on private tutors!”
An uncomfortable pause the more important money is, the more uncomfortable people get when you mention it “take a look at some of these schools - I think a few even have scholarships for the best students”
Glossy brochures fan across the cheap table. “Listen teach - I’m sure you mean well. And I really appreciate what you’re doing for me and Sarah. But building her hopes up for something like this…” How could this idealist understand the practicalities of life?
A second, longer pause. The teacher raises a finger to his lips as he says, loudly “I guess you’ll have to find the money somewhere” while he writes on a small card. He slides the card stealthily into one of the leaflets “Take them home and give it a good read”
That night, she’ll see that name again - Concorde - scrawled on the scrap of paper. The government run failed state the newscasters scorn? Breadlines and totalitarianism? No thanks!
0019 Ambition colony, Residential block 5c
A new solar mirror floats into view. The spark of the Prospera engines flashes off the concave surfaces. The scientific part of her mind knows the warmth isn’t reaching her yet, but she closes her eyes to bask in the glow as it settles into orbit
“Mom! Come on! We can’t be late!” The sound of feet in outdoor high-insulation boots stamping impatiently rings through the apartment.
“Coming sweetie - one second!” Scanning the room, she sees the portfolio neatly packed away and totally forgotten. “Missing something?” She says as she hands it over “you’d forget your head if it wasn’t screwed on so tight!”
With a sigh only a pre-teen who has just been scolded can deliver, she rolls her eyes. “If you weren’t so slow maybe we wouldn’t have to rush so much every morning”
The argument will continue down the elevator, into the subway, ending only at the doors of the newly established Centre of Culture. When her daughter becomes its dean, she will place the logo over the main entrance; a bright, bold tree before the gas giant.
She will probably never think of Concorde, the first state run colony orbiting Jupiter. Never think of how the success of the government run colony shook the investors. Never consider how the union drives and hunger strikes on Invention pushed wages up from subsistence to surplus. Never wonder how the freight collectives dragged tonnes of infrastructure from Ape to keep her warm.
But others will. And those others will vote.
Workers of the World have achieved their mandate and bonus objective, gaining a huge political boon and taking the private Jupiter colonies back into state control