The Rainbow Maker's Tale Read online

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  Many historians pinpoint the start of the rapid decline of human civilisation on Earth to the year 2045. What is significant about this date and the subsequent events of the period; particularly their environmental and geopolitical impact upon the human race?

  The final question of the examination glared at me from the viewing screen. Of course, we needed another reminder of why we were here! A deeply resentful sigh escaped through my tightly pressed lips. To me it sounded like it filled the silent room with sound, but no one turned around to look at me for making too much noise. I must have been as quiet as ever.

  What was I supposed to write about?

  The acid, churning in my stomach, told me that I didn’t want to write about how climate change kick-started a chain-reaction of global events, which collectively led to the destruction of the human race on Earth in the late twenty-second century. I couldn’t face writing another essay on how our ancestors sleepwalked into destroying themselves: I’d spent most of my life doing that! Why were we still writing about this stuff, four generations on? It was as though we had to be told over and over and over again, just how stupid human beings were.

  Ignoring the question, my gaze drifted above the glowing letters and I focused on the heads of the people sat in front of me. Every one of them was tilting their face toward a viewing screen, deep in concentration with an automatic discourse headset perched neatly on their head. My classmates looked industrious, bland and indistinguishable from one another.

  The uniform appearance of my contemporaries – in my eyes – was despite the random accessorising of their clothes. It was ironic: the trend was specifically aimed at expressing their individuality, but being individually identical seemed an odd concept to me. The girls would tie their hair at random angles, so that it stuck out from their heads like architectural features. The boys focused on wristbands, brightly coloured belts and – at the moment – coloured streaks in their hair. Of course, making your hair green or blue all over would look stupid, but a single stripe of colour above your ear – what could look better? I shook my head. Their differences only reinforced their similarity.

  In the next instant – for no reason I could accurately explain – I felt compelled to be different from my classmates. I yanked the automatic discourse headset off, as if it had suddenly become white-hot, and tossed it towards the holder on my desktop. I didn’t bother picking up the headset up or re-arranging its position, when it bounced uselessly against the plastic frame and came to rest untidily beneath the screen.

  I rested my chin in my hand and slouched forward. It wasn’t going to help me answer the question on the screen, but right now, I could think of nothing better to do. It was my last exam anyway, I was pretty sure I couldn’t fail at this point.

  I found my gaze drawn to the only one of my classmates that I ever paid any attention to. Cassie sat in front of me – two desks forwards, one to the left. Her hair hung down her back. It was natural – beautiful, I always thought – without any silly colours or structured additions. Cassie’s only concession to the fads of our classmates was a slim yellow belt, circling the waist of her pale blue day-suit. Other than that, she was just like me. Of course, she paid me no attention, being as generally unaware of my invisible presence as my other classmates.

  But, I was aware of her – always aware it seemed – as though I had some uncanny sixth sense when it came to Cassie. Mainly it was irritating as there was no real basis for the fascination. Other than the fact that, nine years ago, Cassie had been singled out for special attention by my only ever friend, I had never found anything about her to be truly different to the rest of them. Now and again, I would get the feeling that there might be something different about Cassie, but it had never come to anything more.

  That’s hardly surprising – you’ve barely spoken ten words to her during the twelve years you’ve shared a classroom!

  “Thanks,” I muttered back at myself. I didn’t need a sarcastic inner voice to remind me that there was no wonder I couldn’t understand Cassie – I could barely understand myself.

  A movement to my left brought me back to the reality of the exam room and my eyes gradually re-focused on what I had been staring at. Cassie had just removed her own automatic discourse set and placed it carefully down onto the plastic holder. The motion of her arm was what I had noticed through unfocused eyes.

  At first, I was engrossed only as a distraction. I watched as she pressed her fingers against her temple where the headset had rested a moment earlier. She massaged the spot slowly, as though it were painful. It struck me how odd her actions were: the discourse units were supposed to be absolutely non-invasive when they extracted information from your mind and relayed it into the computer system, they shouldn’t be painful at all.

  Perhaps there was something else wrong?

  I was willingly caught up in the diversion and close to forgetting about the unanswered exam question flashing away on the screen, slightly to the right of where my attention was focused.

  Not being stupid or in complete denial, I knew that on some level I found Cassie attractive. Her dark brown hair fell in soft waves to somewhere near the middle of her back and I had often wondered what it would feel like. Cassie had interesting green eyes too, which I knew glowed more brightly when she was happy and laughing with her friends. She did this freely and often, but never with me.

  There was keen intelligence behind Cassie’s eyes. They moved rapidly when considering the world around her, taking in all the important details; they would narrow slightly when she was grasping something critical or complex. In my opinion – unvoiced of course – Cassie was frequently more astute than she allowed others to see. I often wondered why she wanted to hide that. Perhaps, if I’d ever spoken to her I might have been able to work that out…

  There was a flash of white as Cassie moved her arm again. Her skin was fair: much paler than mine, although the colour had a subtle creaminess to it. I always thought of it as never having seen the sun, which of course it hadn’t living on the station as we did. Neither had I, but my skin always held a warm, golden brown glow – very different to Cassie’s. It was the visible mark of my heritage of ancestors who had lived in the hotter areas of the Earth.

  There was more movement in front of me.

  Cassie appeared distracted herself, peeking around at our classmates, whose illuminated faces were trained in concentration on their screens. Everyone was focused on the task at hand. Everyone, that is, except me. I remembered this a second too late. Cassie’s head swivelled in my direction and her sharp green eyes locked onto mine.

  Damn!

  I turned my attention back towards the screen where it should have been focused. As I did so, I registered mild confusion in her questioning expression. Pulling the keyboard towards me, I thumped the keys randomly, as though I had just paused a few moments to collect my thoughts.

  Don’t be stupid! I scolded. My childish behaviour made me feel embarrassed and I shoved the keyboard away. It might have been a long time since I had actually spoken to anyone, except my parents, but surely I could communicate with someone better than this? It was obvious I had been watching Cassie, I should just have smiled…or shrugged…or both, to show it was nothing – just normal, exam boredom. Now I looked guilty, and probably a bit weird as well.

  Deep breath, I told myself. Don’t be an idiot, just glance back now and if Cassie’s not looking at you like you’re a complete freak, smile then get back to work. That’s how a normal human being would behave.

  OK, I agreed. Second chance.

  Peeking back towards the spot that had held my interest a few seconds earlier, I was slightly deflated to see that Cassie’s attention had already returned to her work. My well thought-out plan was only half a minute too late to be any use. Story of my life! I shook my head, irritated with myself and amused by my irritation in equal measure.

  Turning away, I glared at the un-started question
blinking insistently on my monitor. Beneath were the several lines of nonsense I had typed in my hurry to appear like a normal human being when Cassie caught me gazing around. Very normal, I observed dryly as I deleted the text, tapping the backspace key harder than necessary in my annoyance.

  Another loud sigh escaped my lips as I resigned myself to the task at hand. Despite my earlier confidence, I knew that – at a minimum – I had to pass this exam to graduate onto the sequence of placements that would determine my long-term role on the station. The subject of History itself was not the problem; my interpretation of past events in my current frame of mind was the bigger issue. I supposed that part could not be helped: I pretty much lived in this frame of mind.

  The decline of human civilisation on Earth…

  We still existed! Why were they always asking us to look to the past and not what lay ahead? Why did we not learn about what our future might hold, beyond the stifling walls of the Family Quarter – perhaps even beyond the walls of the Space Station Hope itself? I shook my head, dismissing my own questions. It was not the time or place for answering those.

  My hand hovered uncertainly over the keyboard, debating whether to strap on the auto-discourse headset or to actually use the more antiquated equipment in front of me. In the end, I decided I needed a bit of space for my thoughts and that might be better achieved with the keyboard. Pulling the lightweight panel towards me and settling myself properly into the chair, I leaned back and began to answer the last question of my final exam.