Your life is only a knock on the door away from changing forever. It was a cruel lesson April was forced to learn at the age of sixteen. Being nearly half a decade ago now, the events of that day are lodged into her brain for an eternity. Of course, sixteen is still young. Even her current age of twenty, almost twenty-one, is still quite young. She knows and understands that the path ahead of her may be full of even more painful days, grim reminders of the futility of the human condition. She isn’t so arrogant as to subscribe to the mantra of ‘suffering builds character’.

  While suffering may play a key role in the building of character, undeniably, suffering has contributed to untold amounts of destroyed characters. Another phrase she often heard at her education facility was the phrase “history is decided by the victors.” A phrase murmured by the faculty, hoping not to catch the ire of the administration. If that were the case, who is to say that the mantra ‘suffering builds character’ wasn’t just popularized by people who survived that suffering? Because the people who couldn’t bear to hold on a second longer couldn’t espouse their view of suffering?

  She would never say it aloud, for it would be deemed blasphemy by those who have ‘suffered’, but April never thought it anything more than a cruel, hideous statement uttered by those who sought a sadistic enjoyment from inflicting said suffering. To believe they were doing it for some kind of ‘greater purpose’. There is no greater purpose in this container of despair. These deceptively empty, hollowed halls that we call “home”. On that day, for April, that wicked reality, that ‘suffering’, –Marked the days the stars stopped shining.

  ?

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  It seems difficult to describe a room as ‘harsh’, but she wasn’t sure what else to consider it. Bare, metallic white walls. Corporate tile ceilings. A cold concrete floor. And worst of all, that annoying LED buzz. That buzz seemed lodged in her brain for the rest of her life, as if it enjoyed elevating itself to a similar level of trauma. It seemed ridiculous. For millennia, wasn’t light supposed to be something inspiring? Something that brought comfort? Was this a trait wholly unique to this container of despair?

  April was seated upon a metal chair. It provided less than adequate back support. And the support it did provide ended up digging into her spine. She was seated in this harsh room beside a plastic table, littered atop were random documents, a water bottle ‘they’ had received for her, and a couple of binders. April could tell her long, brown hair, previously tied up into a ponytail, was now disheveled and scraggly. As much as she would have liked to fulfill how her Father had taught her to sit ‘properly’, she sat here now, half sunk into her chair, her legs spread out in front of her.

  Resting on top of her legs were her hands. Not really strange in itself, but what brought her a great deal of misery was the cold sensation that was tightly wrapped around her wrists. April sat handcuffed in the interrogation office of the Admin Quarters. The events of just an hour ago felt like a blur, but just like that day, all of those frightening details remain ingrained in her. Simultaneously with her reflection, the knob of the door adjacent to her begins to rustle. A twist, and the sound of the door creaking, as an Enforcer enters.

  April sits up straight in her chair, a wave of goosebumps going from the top of her head all the way down her body. –The Enforcers. She had heard that in days gone, they were a force respected amongst the civilians of the U.S.S Starlight Hope. Peacekeepers were their role. Heavily restricted from the times of the “inbetweens”. The occupation initially carried significant baggage from their time on Earth, having originated from slave patrols and from what she had heard, not straying too far from that perceived path.

  The Administration of the older era saw the U.S.S Starlight Hope as an opportunity to reinvent the relationship between civilians and law enforcement. What happened instead, however, was that the Administration of old did not foresee that future Administrations would disregard ‘decorum’ and ‘civility’. A system built upon promises and unwritten rules would not stand up in the face of charlatans and bad actors. Thus, Enforcers like the man standing before April now, would be created, and enjoyed.

  The sounds of metal clicking together, or rather, apart, filled the hollow space. The man in front of her took off the signature Enforcer helmet that they donned, and revealed the face underneath. An ordinary man. Clean-shaven face and a buzzcut, with no particularly standout features worth mentioning. A sort of deceptive look, a look that would make one recognize that a man like this can be found anywhere on this ship. Who knows how many of them you could walk past on the bridge? That unassuming visage, that feeling of a wolf in sheep's clothing, is perhaps a contributor to the lost feeling of community in this container.

  ?“April, right?” The man's rugged voice called out. Much more in line with what would be expected of an Enforcer. Instead of responding vocally, all April did was look up from the floor, and right at his face. “Right.” He adds, before pulling out a chair of his own, and taking a seat. Each movement from him was joined by a loud shifting sound of armor on armor. The Enforcer uniform was one that was armored up enough that it was as if it could respond to a riot if it were to take place right this very second. It seemed sluggish and cumbersome.

  “We pulled your family's records from the ship logs. Quite an interesting history you got going on. Dad murdered, and now, Mom arrested on suspicion of treason. ‘Suspicion’ might be underplaying our hand, though.” The man spoke with no regard for how his cutting words made the girl in front of him feel. She, however, endured so as not to show any feeling on her face.

  “You didn’t read me my rights. My Mom always told me that you have to read me my rights.”

  Hearing that, the Enforcer looked up from the binder he had been flipping through a moment prior. There was a moment of silence between the two, before he chuckled and closed the binder. “We just want to know when you became aware of your Mother’s actions against the state. If you cooperate, we can have you out of here and back to your friends in no time. Were you even aware? That your friends are waiting for you outside, I mean.” The man placed the binder on the table and leaned on it. He folded his hands together, inching ever closer to April’s face.

  “I have nothing to say to you.” Breaking eye contact, she mutters those words and looks back down at the cold, concrete-like floor underneath. To her, looking away from the man in front of her took more courage than to keep looking at him. Not keeping him in her sight, just what would something as nefarious as him do? After another moment of silence, she yet again heard the creaking of the man's armor. She flinched, but frankly, she didn’t know why.

  Does she even deserve to walk out of here unharmed? Her Mother, who had contributed so much more to this world, is held in custody of the Enforcers. While right here, right now, this girl with no aspiration, no passion, no spirit, no purpose, no hope, someone who arrogantly wants to believe that she can stand on the same footing as others despite lacking the very things that make those others ‘human’. Why is it that she so naively expected that someone as low as her would be deserving of enough compassion to not be hurt, to not be abused at this juncture?

  Thus, she would accept it. Whatever harm, whatever abuse this man might throw at her way, so that he can get information that does not exist, she will endure it. It’s the least that she could do. Her contribution to this ‘world’, now that she has ultimately let down one of the final few people that matter to her in it, will be to serve as relief for whatever this man may be going through to such an extent that he feels the need to batter civilians as a method of stress relief.

  Realistically, she did not find herself in a position to judge another for taking a path to humanity. Even if that path involves spilling the blood of others, at least they were bold enough to walk a path. Some people hold misconceptions that to be human means to not engage in cruelty. One could argue, however, that the ability to express that cruelty is yet another facet of what makes one human. Not a justification of cruelty, but an acknowledgement of it.

  “You’re lucky you’re a little girl. If a man your age were in that seat right now, things wouldn’t have ended the same way.” The second his voice rang out, she jolted a little bit. A bit of baseline fear, it seems. Slowly, ever so slowly, so as not to rouse his frustration, his contempt for the “human” in front of him, she craned her head up to look at him. Even now, with all this power over another person, the look on his face didn’t change a bit.

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  As if it were yesterday. But it wasn’t. She can recall it all. She can recall the unremarkable lack of smell in the living space. She can recall the exact feeling of the air on her skin. It wasn’t cold, but it certainly wasn’t hot either. It was running just a bit warm. Enough to make you feel like you’re about to sweat, but not quite at the threshold. She can remember the feeling of the fabric of the couch on her legs. The feeling of the cloth of her shorts that was wrapped around her thighs.

  Right foot planted on the couch, the other tucked underneath her upraised leg. The feeling of the firmness of the arm of the couch that she rested her right elbow atop. Even now, she could ascertain the sensation of touch. The sensation of holding the book she had been reading that same day. Immersing her mind in the world that lay beyond the eyes. She felt content. That level of content you feel specifically on a Saturday when school is in session.

  It wasn’t a feeling you could get on a Sunday, because you had to go to school tomorrow. Nor was it a feeling you could get on a Friday, because you had just got home from school. Only on Saturday did there exist the feeling of equanimity. More than that, she could recall the excitement. Her still mind due to being out of school, and her excitement knowing that tomorrow, she, her father, Steven, and his family, would be visiting the Earth Memorial.

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  It served the function of reminding the newer generations, April’s and whoever lay beyond, what they were fighting for. To make sure that the customs, the traditions, the ideas, and the lifestyles of those from that great blue marble would never go quietly into the great dark. April never found herself too invested in the happenings of the people from Earth, even though she knew that she at least owed some gratitude towards them for allowing her to live. More important than that to her, however, was the excitement her Father would show when speaking about Earth.

  Her parents had never actually been on Earth. They were the first generation of children born in this container. Children born in the first 10 or so years of the mission were entrusted with a particular goal, and thus, were given an alias. ‘The Trailblazer Generation’. As such, the Trailblazer Generation harbored much more patriotism towards the Administration, and had a much stronger will when it came to setting forth on a path to establishing a future for the human race.

  ? Her Father was emblematic of this generational gap. Though April and her generation didn’t feel it, she could at times glimpse some vision for the future through his ravings. The opportunities to travel the globe, the different cultures you can experience, and the ability to ‘make something of yourself’. That’s something he would talk about a lot. He always had the goal of providing a service to people. He would talk about landing on the planet they were surely barreling towards, and working to set up his own business to help lift people out of dire straits.

  As she was invested in the wide, wondrous world that was present within her book, she heard a knock at the door. Obviously, she wasn’t so impressive that she could intuit what someone was knocking on the door for, but something more instinctive than that ran through her body. The already warm air became even hotter; she could feel her skin perspiring on the back of her neck. The buzzing of the LED lights overhead hummed louder than ever.

  Each individual footstep from her Mom’s bedroom was apparent to her. She could hear her Mom rustling out of bed, the blanket being tossed aside. The sound of bare feet hitting the unwelcoming floor that supports them. The shifting of the slippers as she places her feet inside them. She could smell the aroma that wafts out of her Mom’s room as the door swings open, the scent of vanilla candles filling the once stagnant and unapparent smell of the room.

  She kept her eyes off her book, following her Mom as she rounded the corner, and approached the door. She had clearly been trying to get some rest. Her hair was all over the place, her baggy clothes hanging far down off her shoulders, and some quickly thrown on shorts. It made it clear that she was expecting no visitors either. Looking through the peephole of the door to their living space, she noticed her Mom jolted a bit. Her breathing became accelerated, and as more knocks, this time heavier, hit the door, she began to look back and forth. First at the door, then at April.

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  ? April sat on her bed. Finally, she had returned to a place of moderate comfort. The feeling of the mattress underneath her made her feel a little more at ease. What especially helped, was the blanket that was slowly wrapped around her shoulders. “I’m so sorry, April… I never thought… I couldn’t ever imagine them taking Ms. Wanless like that.” Steven made sure it was snug around her before getting off his knees. They both looked over as the bedroom door opened.

  ? Quickly shuffling inside was Alex, holding a bottle of water that she quickly placed on the bed beside April. Immediately after, though, she fully embraced April. Blanket and all. “It’s okay, now. We’ve got you.” She turned her head to look towards Steven.

  “Can you believe that fucking asshole Enforcer? Seriously, what did he say to you, April?” Steven and Alex had bonded over how much they despised the Enforcer that clearly brought April to this state, and as she closed out her sentence, she looked back at April.

  ?“N-nothing, really… They wanted me to say what I knew about my Mom, but… I really don’t. Seriously!” She first started speaking in a low voice, but as she continued, as she wanted them to believe her, she spoke up.

  “It’s okay, man! We believe you. What is there to know about Ms. Wanless– your Mom, anyway? Doesn’t she just like… I don’t know. Sleep all day, or like, walk around?”

  “Steven!” He had genuinely raised the question because he wasn’t aware of her typical antics. He scratched his head as he asked the question, and Alex snapped at him, causing his eyes to widen a touch and look at her.

  ? “Sorry, I’m serious though. What could the Enforcers even want with her? As far as I know, she lives a pretty reserved life. She doesn’t even wanna touch the violent video games in the house!” He backed up his prior point by using a probably unrelated anecdote, gesturing towards an old game console from the turn of the 21st century.

  “They said… she’s an insurrectionist. Something like that, it can’t possibly be true…” Sinking her head even further into the blanket surrounding her, April spat those words out.

  ? The feeling of her warm breath being absorbed by the fabric, and radiating back at her, made her face feel hot. Really, really hot. She couldn’t tell where the warm air began, and the tears ended. “An… insurrectionist? What the hell are they thinking?” Not even Steven could keep up his usual ‘radiating sunshine’ appearance. He seemed as stunned as anyone would be hearing that someone they’ve known for almost their whole life would be branded a traitor to the state.

  “Hey, hey. I’ve never met your Mom, but like, that seems totally out of the question, right?” Alex slowly released April from the embrace, and at this point, was simply holding onto her shoulders and doing what she could to look into her eyes.

  “I-I… I can’t even say. For the past few years, she’s just… Just… So far away, from me. We’ve been so far away.” She tried to spit out what words she could through the despair. Every time she ended up crying like this, she always found it difficult to talk past the frog in her throat.

  ? “We… We have to do something, then. Right, Steven? We have to find a way to clear your Mom’s name!” Alex quickly stood up, and spun on her heel to face Steven, who looked a bit flabbergasted.

  “Do… something? Um, sorry, Alex? What exactly do you think a couple of 20-something-year-old grocery store employees can do against the United States government?”

  ? “April is in trouble. Her Mom could– …Something seriously wrong could happen. You can’t think of anything from your guys’ past that could maybe point us in the right direction?” Rolling her eyes, she gestured towards April with her hands, emphasizing who exactly is in trouble.

  “I could… uhh… make us some lunch? Can’t get any thinking done on an empty stomach, I suppose.” After pondering for a few seconds, and then pondering some more during his own sentence, he snapped his fingers as if he had truly come up with a revolutionary idea.

  ? “Yeah, yeah. I’ll do that. Then we can put our heads together.” He added, before exiting April’s bedroom and leaving the two of them alone.

  “You weren’t kidding. He really hasn’t grown up. I still can’t imagine you being like that.” Letting out a sigh, Alex gave her an up-to-date reading of the kind of person Steven is, before sitting on the bed beside April. Looking up from her feet, April locked eyes with Alex on the bed right beside her.

  Outside of the dialogue, she never really paid too much attention to the happenings around her while at work. Frankly, she wouldn’t have even recognized what Steven looked like had she only met him at work. But seeing Alex in her home like this made her look at her differently. It was as if she had crossed a boundary between “the girl at work”, and “the girl in my life”. Alex’s hair was cut into a black split-bob, with the left side of her hair left longer than the rest. Something that was particularly visible when she tilted her head to look at April like this.

  ? At the moment, she was still in her work uniform. Same with Steven. She had heard that they rushed over as soon as possible when they heard that April was detained. Steven was quoted as saying, “Fuck the shift! They can find someone else to cover it!” However, as if embarrassed by the work uniform, Alex also quickly threw on a cropped black leather jacket over her white work t-shirt. Reflecting on Steven’s words that he had allegedly said to their manager as they left, also put the first smirk on her face since she arrived home.

  ? “He hasn’t changed. But there’s nothing wrong with that, I think. I just can’t believe he said that to our manager.” With that smirk on her face, April informed Alex of her feelings towards Steven’s perpetual 12-year-old demeanor.

  “Well, he didn’t actually say ‘fuck’. He at first, like, tried, but I think he got scared and just said ‘screw’. I think he just wanted you to think he sounded cooler.” Alex smiled back and let out a chuckle as she told April the real events of the end of their shift.

  ? Alex then tilted her head even further, this time, looking beyond April’s eyes. She leaned back, then leaned forward rapidly to do a little hop out of the bed. Their differences in height here made it apparent to April that Alex wasn’t exactly all that tall. She followed her with her eyes as Alex approached the bedside table, and picked up something that made April’s heart skip a beat. “This picture. Is this your Dad?”

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  The buzzing. It pervades the memory of that day. It didn’t functionally get any louder, but it still stands out so powerfully in that memory. The rest of the sound of the ‘world’ died out after she heard the words from the Enforcer at her door. Her mouth began to hang open as her Mom collapsed to her knees in pure sorrow. The book she had been enthralled in mere moments ago tumbled out of her hands, and she rushed to her Mom’s side. She couldn’t believe her ears. She wanted to believe that she had heard wrong, but her Mom’s reaction would be so incongruent with anything else.

  “Your husband was shot and killed in the Business District about an hour ago. His body is being transported for an autopsy. The Administration is sincerely sorry for your loss.” The words ‘shot and killed’ bounced around in her skull, like a screensaver hitting the edges of the monitor. Why? Just why? Why would someone do this to a man who had never harmed anyone? She could feel her eyes begin to well up, as the endless possibilities filled her mind.

  ? Is there anything she could have done? Surely. No, of course there was. Why did she have the Memorial visit scheduled for tomorrow, and not today? If they had gone to a totally different part of the vessel today, then he wouldn’t have been put in harm's way. Whoever he might have bumped into wouldn’t have had the chance. Or if it was someone looking for him, they wouldn’t have been able to find him. Whoever that person was… she had no earthly idea. Except for one thing.

  ? She hated them. Truly, sincerely, from the bottom of her heart. She had garnered a wish, even if it only lasted a single second. To tear apart, to decimate, to completely obliterate, to shred to smithereens, this mystery actor. To make them feel the pain he might have felt. –No, even more, to make their loved ones feel the pain that she now feels in this very moment. It was unbridled rage that would never take form, feelings that she had never even conceptualized in her entire, young life. Feelings so powerful, that she felt ashamed for even having them.

  But would it be wrong to feel these things? Would it be wrong to hate, from the bottom of her heart, the person who had inflicted this pain not just upon the man that inspired her, but upon her and her Mom? It mattered not the actual shape the feelings took. It mattered not what words were used to express her feelings. All that mattered was the essence. And the essence was pure.

  ? Her Father had loved the stars. To him, the innumerable pinpricks of light that traveled far and long to arrive here, mirrored the very journey that humanity faced. That even if it took ten, a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand years, a billion years. Eventually, your light would reach your goal. Through thick and thin, through the hardest of times, and enjoying the easiest of times. The Light had only one direction to go. It could only ever go forward.

  ? Her Mom pulled her into a tight embrace. The Enforcer, before them, looked solemnly, with his helmet to his chest. The two cried, and cried and cried. As if they would never run out of tears. She could feel the fingers of her Mom digging into her skin. She was gripping hard enough that it felt like she could break skin if she tried hard enough. The essence of her Mom’s feelings was delivered not through language, but through that violent action. Her righteous indignation was felt.

  ? Nestled into her Mom’s shoulder, the feeling of her heart breaking in two, the feeling of the tears falling down her face. The feeling of her Mom’s now moist shoulder. The feeling of the fingernails ripping into her skin. When she opened her eyes, she could look out a small window that was present in the open hall, just outside her home, just past the Enforcer. In it, she could see the stars. Not moving a single inch, just as they never did. Today, and from here on out, would mark the day. –The day April Wanless would come to hate the stars.