The Cliffs of Utpala: Chapter Three

Chapter One
Chapter Two

Chapter Three:

Mothers can be especially good at giving you the whatfor. They know you so well they can be devastating with words and actions like no other human being can. Perhaps your spouse one day, but most likely not. Your mother was there from the time you were born and through your childhood (most of the time) and she will know you better than you know you.

Kyra's mother, of course, let Kyra have a piece of her mind. However, after 20 years of hearing her mother berate her, she was semi immune. Not completely, Kyra was not insensitive to her mother and family and their desire to be home for dinner and not disappear. However, Kyra had developed a thickish skin and learned, in the cramped world of Utpala, to trade barbs or at least weather her mother's chastising.

However, then Kyra's mother delivered the most devastating blow. To be sure, it was after her mother had hrmphed and left the room. Her mother needed to get to bed. She had a lot of bots to take care of out in the fields tomorrow. She was a field engineer for the agricultural bots and they were constantly having issues. Her mother was brilliant at improvising repairs. If there was anyone who epitomized Utpalan ingenuinity, it was Kyra's mother. Her mother though had a sharp rebuke.

Kyra went to the kitchen and sat to eat dinner. And there it was. The sharpest rebuke. There was her mother's Punjabi goat curry, delicious, but...what was eaten a lot on Utpala, even if every household at their own variation on it. Then there was the barley naan. Her father probably made that. Some families let the bots make dinner. In hers and some others though, making dinner together manually was a family affair and meant to bring everyone together and keep skills sharp...just in case. Her siblings and her worked together with her parents every evening. That was part of what her mother was rebuking her for.

The biggest, sharpest rebuke was a bowl of lentil wat. Her mother knew Kyra loved Ethiopian food since she'd been introduced to it when a visiting scientist from Ethiopia had stayed with the family. It was different than Indian. It was delicious, to Kyra, probably in no small part because it was different. However, right there, in the kitchen, right then, her dinner was arrayed for her. With love. Even a dish of what she loved on the side. And all of it was cold.

Her mother had made something special for her, probably thinking she was trying to help ease Kyra's dissatisfaction a bit. An act made of love and Kyra hadn't been kind enough, considerate enough to be present when the meal was made. Kyra slumped in her seat. She felt horrible. The worst part was the rebuke was not intended as such. It was merely Kyra's own actions provided a mirror she could see and feel what she had done through her mother's eyes.

And it hurt.

Her own actions made it hurt.

She sighed and was about to dig in when her father came in. He placed a kiss on her head and hugged her. He sat down for a moment and gave her a slightly disapproving look, but then cocked a half smile. He didn't say anything, but shook his head and went off to bed himself. He was an engineer in the nuclear power plant. It wasn't big. Enough to power ten times the current size of Utpala's colony, but it needed to be taken care of all the same. Yes, yes, the bots did a lot of routine work, but...if to err is human, to truly foul things up takes a computer.

Without the nuclear power plant, the entire colony would suffer. They could cut wood from the forests, but there might be biochemical incompatibilities lurking and someone or possibly everyone, might die from the smoke. To be sure, the plant was really, really safe. It was the best Indian engineering could make and that was really, really good. However, it was critical and people were watching the bots around the clock. Her father was lucky enough, or senior enough, to have a regular day shift.

Kyra rewarmed the meal and ate quietly and humbly. Her siblings were asleep already. They were younger and still in school. And the days were extra long on Utpala, they needed their rest.

Had she lived back on Earth, she'd be off to University. Utpala was too small for a university as yet. And the local culture was developing families stayed together until the next generation married. She was definitely not ready for that. That was for sure! The smallness and provincialism of Utpala born down on her again.

She loved her family. She loved her home. She loved even her community. She even, powers forbid, loved her planet.

However, she was not really, not in her heart, a part of them.

Tired and weary, she retired to her room. When bots built everything and there was enough space in the world, everyone could have their own room.

She traced the lines of her handful of books. Books, old fashioned ones imported from Earth, were really expensive. Her father had insisted she be given one for her birthday each year. She loved them. But they were appropriate for her then age though. Ones intended for a newborn to the one she had received months ago. All of them were made of paper from trees from Earth. To be sure, she could print any book she wanted using the local printer at the library or read anything she wanted virtually. Or even experience a number of them through the immersive, virtual world Immies. However, these were special.

Yet...they made her feel her remoteness from everything India though. Yes, Utpala was Indian. It was an Indian world. One of several now. What was it like in New Delhi? What was like to look upon the Indian Ocean? What did people her age do there?

She could experience it through an Immie, but to her, to her soul, to her mind and to her heart, it would not be the same.

She sighed. She prepared for bed. She turned off the light.

Tomorrow would be another day.

In another 10 hours.

And as tired as she was, she was going to need every one of those hours.