Kyla's Diary - Chapter 4: Staleness
“There’s a little raw beet in here. I read that beets have something that smells like the air on Earth before it rains. I’m not sure if it’s true, but I try to imagine rain when I drink it.”
“Hi, Mom… Yes, we returned before curfew,” Kyla said, her Whisperzend status light glowing green.
“Yeah, I’m walking to the gym now. Tell Dad I said hi. See you tomorrow for breakfast.”
The corridor widened near the Hydration Lounge next to the gym. Soft conversation and the click of dispensers refilling bottles carried through the archway.
She noticed Darius and Nia leaning against the counter near a hydration tap.
“Hey,” Kyla said. “Hydrating after the workout?”
Nia smiled. “Hi. You look a little tired.”
“Just a little,” Kyla said with a hint of irony. “I’ve been working all week on the anniversary assignment.”
“Are you finished?” Darius asked.
“Not really, but I’m getting there.”
“Do you want to share?” Nia asked.
“Well, I’m naming it The Long Goodbye.”
Darius leaned forward. “Good title. What is it about?”
“It’s about a girl before departure. When it’s ready, I’ll share it with both of you to get your feedback.”
“I’m also writing about the time before departure. It’s about how life in the launch corridors mirrored life on Helios,” Nia said.
“Interesting!” Kyla nodded. “Mine is more about separation.”
Darius added, “I’m writing about the Disconnect.”
Kyla raised her eyebrows. “You’re obsessed with that.”
“I think it’s fascinating,” Darius replied. “I’ve been researching deep-space communication. The signal delays and the engineering behind it are complicated. But for me, the real mystery is why we haven’t heard from Earth. Where are the faster ships? Five centuries and nothing!”
He paused, then added, half joking, “Don’t get me started.”
They moved to a nearby table, watching people cross the Plaza below.
“You know what else is fascinating?” Darius said. “All we do on this ship is create log entries.”
Nia shook her head. “That’s not all we do.”
“I think it is,” Darius countered. “Besides keeping the ship working, everything is essays, stories, art, music… puppet shows. Even ringvolley matches get narrated and archived as log entries.”
“Yeah, but there is a reason for this,” Nia replied. “I forgot what they call it…”
“Right,” Darius said, snapping his fingers. “Staleness… information staleness.”
Kyla nodded. “My father should know about this. I’ll ask him.”
“You should also ask him why we don’t just use synthetic content,” Darius said.
Kyla replied, “I guess real content is better.”
“I don’t know about that. When you grow up knowing everything gets logged, being real gets harder,” Darius said.
For a moment, the three of them sat quietly with the thought.
Kyla stood, breaking the moment. “I need to work out.”
Darius spoke up as she stepped away. “So, did Layna finish moving in with you?”
Kyla smirked. “Someone seems interested.”
Darius blushed, his face turning red enough to match his hair. “I can’t ask questions now?”
He took a sip from his bottle. “By the way, say hello to your friend Julian. He has been inside training for tomorrow’s ringvolley match.”
“Don’t let him win tomorrow. I’ll be there to cheer for you guys,” said Kyla as she walked to the gym.
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Alyka had never seen a place like this. El Hierro looked nothing like New York. No tall buildings, no concrete jungle, only green slopes rolling toward volcanic cliffs and black sand beaches.
The arrival terminal was chaos. Lines snaked through the open-air pavilion, families showing their bracelets while Seeder Project staff verified them with their scanners.
Alyka stood with her parents, watching the organized confusion. A family finished their verification process, and the last girl in line, thin, pale, and with light-brown hair, turned as though unsure where to stand.
Alyka offered a small wave. “Hi, I’m Alyka.”
“Hello, I’m Sarah,” the girl said softly.
Alyka smiled. “This is very different from New York, right?”
“I don’t know,” Sarah admitted. “This is my first time outside Dublin.”
Both families were cleared to board the bus, and the two girls ended up in the same row. Sarah turned toward the window, her expression softening. “It’s beautiful,” she said.
Alyka nodded. “Yes, it is.”
That was the beginning of their friendship.
Life at the enclave settled into something almost normal: school in the mornings, birthday parties in the recreation center, and occasional trips outside the compound.
But normal only went so far. The enclave housed 364 people, and everyone knew the number that mattered. Only 175 would be selected to board Helios. The rest would stay.
Millions had applied to the Seeder Project. Fewer than two thousand were chosen for the four enclaves. Getting here had already required passing through numerous filters, but this was the final cut, and everyone felt it.
Competition and teamwork in equal measure, the higher-ups said, the same balance they would need aboard a generation ship. Someone had to figure out how to select a crew for a journey that would last centuries.
The tension was always there. Who was excelling? Who was struggling? Whose family might not make the cut?
Alyka tried not to think about it. Sarah tried harder.
Sarah’s parents worked at the command center on the nearby island of La Palma, traveling every week and leaving her behind. Most weeks, she stayed with Alyka’s family.
Her father worked on the development of the deep-space communication systems. Her mother was an astronomer focused on exoplanet surveys and stellar mapping, often bringing home stories about distant stars and survey data.
Alyka’s parents worked at the enclave. Her mother had a PhD in history and helped design the education curriculum.
Her father worked with computer systems, helping develop an early version of Logminter and the systems that would travel with the ship.
At dinner he often spoke about the systems they were building and the need to preserve memory. Alyka and Sarah would ask questions. Alyka’s mother added historical context, explaining how humans had always used external memory, from oral traditions and libraries to computers and artificial intelligence.
Those evenings felt almost like a regular family dinner should have, except the conversation always circled back to the same question nobody wanted to think about: Would they all make it onto Helios together?
Kyla stopped reading. “I don’t know how to work out all the details,” she said out loud, her voice tight with frustration. “I want this story to be as accurate as possible, but keep it alive.”
After a long breath, she added, “Logminter, should I explain Silence and the other Possibilities?”
> If the goal is clarity and narrative momentum, you should not add definitions or additional philosophical explanation. You have sufficient information to complete your story.
From the kitchenette, Layna said, “You sound frustrated. I’m making a chamomile infusion with a blend from the gardens. I’ll make one for you.”
Kyla looked over her shoulder. “Thanks.”
Layna set a cup on the counter and added a pinch of something from a small container. “I love this smell,” she said. “There’s a little raw beet in here. I read that beets have something that smells like the air on Earth before it rains. I’m not sure if it’s true, but I try to imagine rain when I drink it.”
Kyla paused, thinking about it, then said, “That’s nice.” She considered the idea a moment longer, then added, “Tomorrow, we can continue decorating the cabin.”
Layna smiled. “It’s starting to feel like home.”
Kyla exhaled, feeling her tension ease a little. “Yes, it does.”
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.