Joe & Bixby: Marked For Averageness

The uniform was tight. Too tight. Joe looked at himself in the holo-reflection. His eyes roamed over his fresh, young face, down his broadening chest where the material clung to every line of his maturing form. His gaze moved further, past his flat stomach to the darker line of blue against light grey where he would fasten his belt. Below his hips the uniform his father had handed down was no looser, still proudly displaying every dip and bump. Definitely too tight. His father's words rang in his head, 'Today will be a day to remember!' Joe didn't doubt it. He just hoped it would be for more than the mortifying embarrassment of having his junk on display. He sighed, wondering briefly if his father would comment. Probably. His mother definitely would. Maybe he could get a really big belt... As they always did, his eyes flicked left to the image pinned beside his holo-mirror. His father stood front and centre, lips a thin line of determination, eyes shining with pride. To either side stood Joe's grandparents. He looked at their faces. Faces he'd never known. Five centuries was a long time between generations. His grandfather was a copy of his father. Older, rounder in the gut and thinner in hair, but otherwise the same face with the same expression of stiff adherence to duty. Joe's grandmother was different. Her eyes were softer, staring down at the flowers in her son's hands. Joe couldn't help but notice they were held low. Maybe the uniform had been a bit tight for his father too. Joe glanced to his right, seeing the matching white tulips he would soon be holding for a capture just like this one. He wondered if his mother would stare at them too. There was no doubt his father would look straight ahead. With one final look at his own image, Joe breathed deep, feeling the material tighten further across his chest and nodded to himself. He was ready. Definitely ready. Absolutely as ready as he could be. He'd trained every day of his life for this. Honing his body, learning the Algorithm. Understanding how it did what it did, or at least trying to. Planning a route over decades to deliver just what was needed at exactly the time it was needed, was a miracle to him. As for knowing what would be in short supply tens or hundreds of light-years away and taking it there... he'd never even left Gillett's Landing! According to his father, the Algorithm would let him do just that. How, Joe had never fully worked out, but another thing his father would always say was 'You'll understand it when you need to. Don't worry, son. One day it will just click'. Joe looked at the picture again. "Did it just click?" he asked the image. "I guess it must have." He made an attempt to adjust his uniform, bending awkwardly to create more space in a certain, very specific area. It didn't entirely work, stretching tight as he stood up again. After a few more tries, Joe found he could retain a little dignity if he hunched over and let his hands dangle centrally below his waist. Problem solved! He caught sight of his reflection again. Okay, perhaps the problem wasn't exactly solved. Joe stood straight, grimacing as his anatomy reverted to full display. Maybe dignity was overrated. His eyes flicked to the picture then back to his reflection. "It'll just click," he told himself. Still unable to shake the feeling he was lying, Joe lifted the flowers gently from their vase. "Time to go." *** Rain hammered the roof of the great dome with a soft, distant drumming as Joe stepped out into the light. It never rained beneath the dome. The liquid up there wasn't water. Well, some of it was but you wouldn't want the rest of it falling on you. The familiar scent of baked dust reached Joe's nose but his imagination added the hint of dampness he always longed for when he saw the rains. Gillett's Landing was dry. Always dry. The dome saw to that. His mother and father stood a short distance from their hab door in quiet conversation with Reverend Chantis. The man's opulent ceremonial robes were draped in finery, making him seem like the only splash of colour against the drab background of Joe's parents and the dust plains. Joe steeled himself, lowered his head in respect and made his approach. "Good morning, Josiah!" Reverend Chantis boomed. "Good morning, Reverend," Joe replied, grimacing at hearing his hated full name. He held back the annoyance. Respect was important. "You look like a young man raring to make his fortune among the stars. What a life! Seeing all those far away places, living through such changes. If it weren't a sin I'd admit to being just a little jealous." "Thank you, Reverend," Joe replied, back ramrod straight. "Such an opportunity!" Reverend Chantis continued, giving Joe's posture an approving nod and glancing down. Joe instinctively moved his hands to cover himself. "And I can see you're excited. Or blessed." The familiar flush started to burn in Joe's cheeks. "You are a lucky young man to lead such a life. Lucky indeed! If the Emperor hadn't called me into His service, well, what I wouldn't give to put on that uniform." "I doubt it would fit you," Joe's mother put in before he could respond. She gave the Reverend's ample belly a meaningful look. Joe's jaw dropped at her disrespect. He saw how both his father and the Reverend turned pale. "Reverend, I apologise for my wife," Joe's father said, casting her a dark look. "I'll apologise for myself thank you, Roger," she replied curtly. "I am sorry, Reverend. Forgive a frail woman her imbalances. It's an emotional day after all." She offered the Reverend a polite smile but Joe could see the mischief in her eyes. "Of course, of course," Reverend Chantis replied stiffly. "An emotional day for all, as you say. So much to be proud of. I'm sure the Emperor's church can forgive a minor indiscretion. Especially for such generous donors." "Thank you, Reverend," Joe's father said. "We will be extra generous to the collection this week." Joe's mother received another look which she happily ignored. Reverend Chantis cleared his throat and adjusted his robes, apparently mollified. "Shall we begin?" Joe's mother nodded with an entirely unabashed smile as his father cleared his throat. "Yes, Reverend," he said and signalled for the older man to lead the way. Joe fell in behind his parents as they walked away from the hab. Ahead he could see the small dais they'd set up a few days before. Upon it stood a lectern, nestling between two coffins which lay open to the dry air. The artificial dome-light shone dully from their polished wood-effect lids. He wanted to ask again why this was necessary. Why go through such a stupid ritual? His father had scoffed the first time he'd questioned it. It was tradition. An important part of their goodbye. The most important part. Even his mother had agreed. Joe stopped at the foot of the dais and waited as they stepped up and climbed the short ladders. Once both his parents were lying comfortably, Joe removed the steps, stashing them out of sight. "Are we ready to ring the bell?" Reverend Chantis asked from behind the lectern. Joe waited but neither his mother nor father replied. Of course they didn't. Dead people didn't talk. It was their funeral he was attending, after all. *** "Today is a momentous day!" Reverend Chantis boomed in a voice far too grand for the meagre crowd gathered before the dais. Standing directly beside him, Joe tried not to wince as the words bounced his head around. "Today a young man begins his new life in the eyes of our Godly Emperor, you good people and his family. To serve under a Royal Charter is no small feat. No matter how large or small, every tithe provided to the Royal Seal strengthens our Empire. Upholding the values of this prestigious family name will not be an easy task," he turned his eyes on Joe. "But if ever there was a man up to it, he stands beside me now." Joe felt the pride swell in his chest. He tried to push it down, remembering his father's lessons. The words told to him over and over again; 'Prideful makes a proud fool.' He avoided looking over to where his father lay, silent and still. "A brave young man--" Joe didn't feel brave. "--a courageous young man--" The tremor in his legs betrayed that too. "--a godly young man--" Joe fought the urge to roll his eyes. If this is what being godly meant it was simply too ridiculous to take seriously. He'd known what today would be. Of course he had, but still it was difficult not to feel stupid stood between two open coffins in front of a crowd of strangers. He looked over the mildly disinterested faces. Summoned by a ringing bell that may as well have been replaced with a shout of 'Free drinks!'. It was yet another part of the whole tradition Joe didn't get, but these things had to be witnessed, as his father was so fond of saying. Apparently, Joe wasn't enough of a witness by himself. "--a young man who will take with him the strength of his father and the belief in our Godly Emperor to guide him through the difficulties ahead." A hand clapped down on Joe's shoulder, making him jump. He turned his head to see Reverend Chantis smiling. "And now, you have been anointed with the blessed waters, my son. You have sworn, before our Godly Emperor, your family and these friends. You are ready." Joe nodded, ignoring the voice inside disagreeing with every word. He tried to search the crowd for any faces he could reliably call 'friends'. They were few and far between. His parents hadn't been big believers in socialising. Joe caught himself. 'Hadn't'? They were just pretending... Close to the front of the small gathering, he caught the eye of a young girl. She looked around his age. Slim and pretty. She smiled as he looked at her, cast her eyes down a little, then giggled as she leaned in to whisper to the girl next to her. Joe knew the blush was starting again. He looked up, desperately trying to ignore the hand gestures they made to each other. "You may present your respects," Reverend Chantis intoned. Joe turned away from the Reverend, facing his mother's coffin. She lay on plump purple cushions, the paleness of her skin beneath the frilly white dress giving her a distinctly corpse-like appearance. He stepped close and placed the first tulip delicately on her hands. As he drew his fingers away she moved to grab him. Joe stifled a yelp and saw the corners of her mouth twitch into a smile. A giggle rose from the crowd. "Stop it!" He hissed as more sniggers and mutters reached his ears. "You're supposed to be dead." "Call it a muscle reflex," she whispered back, opening one eye and winking at him. "Dead people don't do that," he said. "And they don't open their eyes." "They might do. How many dead bodies have you seen?" Joe tried to ignore the looming presence of Reverend Chantis behind him. "Stop messing around," he chided her. "And stop winking. Dead people definitely don't wink!" Her mouth broke into a thin smile and she closed her eye. "Meet a nice girl." "Dead people don't peck--" "Make me some grand-babies." "Shut up!" "Not that I'll see them, but it's nice to dream." "Shut up," Joe wrestled his fingers from her grip and turned away. She was still smirking. Stepping past the Reverend, Joe managed to avoid his eyes and the dark look he knew they contained. Thankfully his father left the theatrics to his wife. He made a convincing corpse. As Joe laid the tulip down on his father's chest he was sure it wasn't moving. He had to admit the dedication to the part was impressive. "It is done!" Reverend Chantis boomed making Joe flinch. He spun back to face the crowd, catching the sound of a long-held breath and muted coughing escape the 'body' behind him. "I believe you have prepared an appropriate eulogy?" Reverend Chantis said. Joe nodded, glumly. Looking at the bored faces of the crowd, he was almost glad his parents had written their own eulogies. He lifted his eyes, looking over the heads and out across the empty distance. Despite the number of times his father had made him read and re-read the words, his memory was blank. "Er... " he started. A huff of air came from the coffin to his left. Great. As if it wasn't bad enough eulogising the only people he'd ever really known. Now he was going to have to sit through their critiques of his performance as well.