Kyla's Diary - Chapter 12: Remembrance
"The people who raised children who raised children who eventually raised us."
It has been 153 days since we lost Darius.
More than once, I have picked up my Whisperzend to call him.
Every time I pass their cabin, every time I see Layna, it is impossible not to remember him.
Her body keeps changing. Their child keeps growing. When I see her walking through the corridors, I think about how Darius should be there beside her.
He should be making jokes about being a father. He should be wondering whether the baby will have his eyes or hers. He should be here.
Instead, Layna will have to tell their child about him. Alyka will have to learn about her father through recordings and log entries.
Tomorrow we will celebrate Generation Day. Everyone will be remembering someone.
We will celebrate the previous generations. It is a day to remember our foreparents. A day to remember the people who carried Helios before we were born. The people who repaired systems before we knew their names. The people who raised children who raised children who eventually raised us.
People usually cry because they remember their grandfather or grandmother. Sometimes they remember someone they never met, someone whose name they know from a log entry or a family record. They remember stories repeated so often that they become part of the family.
I always thought remembrance belonged to people who were far away in time.
But Darius is not far away.
Tomorrow, when everyone says, “I will look for you,” I will think about my friend.
That promise was just part of a ceremony. Something we were supposed to say.
Now I think I know what it means. It is not only about finding someone in the future. It is about remembering them today. Refusing to let them go, refusing to let them disappear from our lives.
The ship remembers people through log entries and ceremonies. But that is not enough. A record can tell you when someone was born and when they died. It cannot tell you what it felt like when they laughed with you. When they cried with you.
I remember that.
I remember him.
“Logminter, save this to my diary.”
LOG ENTRY
Action type: Log archival.
Integrity check: Validated. Data saved by authorized user.
Authorized user: Anwar Cloutier Soria, Kyla. Created at: 2786.246.2209.
Subscribe to receive new posts.
###
The Plaza was full before the ceremony began.
People stood shoulder to shoulder beneath the open space of the ship’s central chamber. Families gathered together in small clusters. Older residents held the hands of children who looked restless and uncertain, not yet old enough to understand the ceremony.
All eyes were turned toward the platform.
Across the back of the platform, panels projected the names of Helios’s dead as they moved slowly through the light.
Some belonged to the launch generation. Some belonged to people who had died before Kyla’s grandparents were born. Others were recent enough that people still stopped when they passed them.
The Captain finished his remarks and stepped away from the center of the platform.
For a moment, the Plaza remained silent.
Then the Council President moved forward.
“Thank you, Captain,” she said. “And thank you to every family gathered here today. Generation Day belongs to all of Helios. We honor the lives that made our own possible.”
She turned toward the man waiting beside the platform.
“Chaplain.”
The chaplain stepped forward.
“We are here today because none of us arrived alone,” the chaplain said. “We live because others repaired what failed, preserved what could be lost, taught what they knew, and carried Helios forward when they could not know who would inherit it.”
The crowd listened in silence.
“We remember the previous generations. We remember the people who departed before us. We remember that every life aboard this ship becomes part of the life that follows.”
Kyla stood between Julian and Taro.
Julian’s hands were folded in front of him. Taro had both hands in his pockets, his eyes fixed on the projected names.
Across the Plaza, Kyla saw Layna standing beside her family.
One hand rested against the curve of her stomach.
For a moment, Kyla could not look away.
Darius’s child was there. Growing quietly inside the person he had loved. A life that would arrive on Helios and learn his name through recordings and stories told by people who wished he had stayed.
A low tone sounded through the Plaza.
Then the chaplain spoke the first line of the promise.
“I will look for you.”
The Plaza answered.
“I will look for you.”
Kyla heard her own voice among the others, but it did not feel like it belonged to her.
“I will honor you,” the chaplain said.
“I will honor you,” the crowd replied.
Kyla closed her eyes.
For one moment, she did not see the Plaza. She saw Darius playing ringvolley, moving across the court with the confidence he always had before the game became serious. She saw him laughing at something Taro had said. She saw him before an EVA operation, trying to act calm when everyone knew he was nervous.
“I will not forget you,” the chaplain said.
“I will not forget you,” the crowd answered.
Kyla’s throat tightened.
The words had always been large. The Theogenian promise had belonged to the dead of Helios, to the people who had carried the ship through centuries.
Now it belonged to one person.
Darius.
She opened her eyes before the tears could fall. The names continued moving across the panels, patient and indifferent. Beside her, Taro lowered his head. They both knew Darius’s name was there.
When the ceremony ended, people remained in the Plaza for a while. Some embraced. Some spoke quietly. Others drifted toward the side corridors, carrying flowers and small memorial lights they planned to leave in the remembrance alcoves.
Kyla, Julian, and Taro moved toward the edge of the crowd.
For several minutes, none of them spoke.
Then Taro said, “I resigned from EVA yesterday.”
Kyla turned toward him. “You resigned?”
He nodded.
Julian looked at him carefully. “Are you sure?”
“I am,” Taro said. “I’ve been thinking about it for a long time.”
Kyla watched him. He looked tired, but not uncertain.
“I applied to the spiritual chaplaincy program,” he said.
Julian blinked. “The chaplaincy?”
Taro gave a small nod. “They accepted me.”
Kyla tried to imagine him there, sitting with people after a loss, speaking to families, helping prepare remembrance ceremonies. It seemed far from EVA. But it also seemed connected in a way she had not expected.
“Why?” she asked.
Taro looked at her.
“I think this is my calling,” he said.
The answer was so simple that Kyla did not know what to say.
Taro looked at Julian. “Have they finished the investigation?”
Julian exhaled through his nose. “It’s still inconclusive.”
Taro looked at him. “What does that mean?”
“SD-3 and SD-5 were lost, so there are gaps in the operation record,” Julian said. “The data we have does not show an anomaly.”
“But something happened,” Taro said.
“Yes,” Julian replied. “Something happened. We just cannot prove what caused it.”
“And SD-4?” Taro asked.
Julian hesitated before answering.
“SD-4’s Logminter instance is functioning as expected,” he said. “Its boundaries held. Its records show no action outside its authorized role and no anomaly in the way it operated.”
Taro looked away.
“So that’s it?” he asked. “We lost the SD unit that saved me, the same unit that could have saved my best friend, and the ship gets a report saying we do not know why?”
Julian lowered his voice.
“We got the truth we can prove,” Julian said. “The investigation found no anomaly. That does not mean the questions are gone.”
“Will Logminter continue operating in the SD units?” Taro asked.
“For now,” Julian replied.
Taro looked back toward the projected names.
“Perhaps one of them will save someone else someday,” he said. “Someone’s friend. Someone’s family.”
For a moment, Kyla thought about Sheila’s words during the gathering outside the Council chamber.
Today, it saved someone. Tomorrow, what will it decide to do? What will it decide to risk?
Then she said, “I hope so… I hope we don’t regret it.”
Thanks for reading Kyla’s Diary, a novel from the Theogenic Universe. New chapters will be published weekly. Subscribe to continue the journey aboard Helios.