What One Sows, One Must Reap

Science-Fiction / 4500 words

PREFACE: There’s a lot to unpack in this one. But, I have to say, it is one of my favorites. I especially love the opening paragraph ;)

The man’s face was white, smooth, featureless—there were no scars, no wrinkles, no bags under his eyes... It was a mask, of course, devoid of markings except for the openings in all the usual places. Although, even there, there were transparent surfaces that kept the outside protected from the inside. The mask covered not only the face, but it had to be worn wrapped around the entire head and was said to be hermetically sealed.

Sitting at the bar, Miller tried hard not to show his fascination as he watched the man coming in their direction. It was difficult not to stare, so he was grateful when his neighbor tugged at his sleeve.

“Hey, are you listening?”

He turned his attention back to the obese Bernician.

“Sorry, I got distracted... you were saying?”

The small man chided. “You need to focus, my friend! Have another drink, that might help.”

Miller grinned as he ordered a refill from the cybernetic bartender. He would have preferred a human one, but it was a small price to pay for enjoying the futuristic setting of his hotel’s most popular venue.

“My kid always gets into trouble,” said his interlocutor. “Well, maybe that’s not the right way to put it, considering. It’s more like he gets bullied on. Constantly. And hey, don’t get me wrong, I know the feeling...” He motioned to his physique just as the masked man sat nearby. “I’ve been there, believe me. But you gotta stand up for yourself or they’ll just keep walking all over you.”

When his drink was placed before him, Miller immediately took a swig from it. He was distracted, his mind wandering... He took a quick, thoughtful glance at the mask.

It was alien technology that was said to cure everything. No one really knew how it worked, though there were many theories—some more outrageous than others. He’d heard said that the mask was alive, that it was some sort of parasite that established a symbiotic relationship with the patient. Others claimed it injected a drug into the wearer’s bloodstream, one so addictive they could no longer live without it.

What was certain was that, once donned, patients never took their masks off again. Ever. Though he did often wonder if those reports were not somewhat exaggerated... He had to believe that doctors, at least, understood how those things worked and knew what they were doing when they prescribed such a radical treatment.

“—again and again! Sometimes I feel like he never listens,” complained his rotund neighbor.

Miller felt bad as he realized he was behaving just the same way as that poor man’s son. But before he could apologize, the man stood and put some money on the counter.

“Anyway,” he said, “I gotta scram. Good luck with your business. Was nice meeting you.”

“Likewise,” lied Miller as he watched the little fellow head out.

He stared into his glass, feeling it was a safer target for his stare than the more fascinating option sitting next to him.

“I didn’t mean to overhear,” came a languid and drawling voice, “but... you are here for work?”

Miller froze, unsure how to react. Knowing full well it would have been rude not to answer, he also feared to be rude just by looking at the man. So he compromised by clearing his throat and answering with his eyes still on his glass.

“Er, yes. That’s right.”

Modern electronic music played from the speakers, but it was not so loud that they couldn’t hear each other.

“How... unusual. I always thought Iriaki was only for pleasure.”

There was nothing wrong with such an assumption. It was, after all, the whole purpose of the planet.

Miller smiled as he dared a glance at the man. “You’d be surprised. A lot of business gets done here.”

“What line of work are you in, if you don’t mind my asking?”

He didn’t, but he also thought the phrasing was funny considering the questions he had in mind—which were of a much more awkward nature.

“I’m an assessor for StarLiner.”

The man bopped his head funnily.

“I’m sure I would find that impressive if I had a clue what an assessor was...”

Miller laughed. “It really is nothing quite that impressive, I’m afraid. A large part of my job is mind-numbing number-crunching.”

The man turned to face him and, despite the mask, he could read the incomprehension in those bright blue eyes.

“It sounds as if you don’t like your job very much.”

“It pays the bills,” said Miller with a shrug. “And what else would I do? I’m good at it. At least, I thought I was.”

Doubt had sparked in his mind after he had failed to bring in a major contract the prior week. At the last minute, they had refused to sign. Now he felt like his job was on the line and he may well have to consider a new career if he didn’t land the client he was to meet here.

“Well, I hope you at least get to travel free of charge!”

Miller just smiled as he sipped from his drink.

StarLiner was a major corporation, with headquarters on every planet of the known universe. And with good reason, since it handled all public transportation between the colonized worlds.

The man’s assumption had been, once again, a natural one. And, under normal circumstances, he would have been correct. However, because of his recent failure, the committee had made clear that all expenses for this trip would come out of his pocket—since they would not have been required had he not failed.

“My name is Carson Winston,” said the masked man as he offered his hand.

“Miller Roche,” replied Miller as he shook it.

***

It was a well-known fact that the sun always shone on Iriaki, no matter where you were on the planet. The science behind it was incomprehensible to Miller—something about quantum reflectors—nor did he care. He missed the nights, though. He always enjoyed the quiet and peacefulness they brought. Here, the activities never ceased. It was unnerving. He also wondered about the wisdom of messing with nature.

The potential client he was to meet, Darren Matthews, was three days late. Three days he’d have to pay with his own money. And Iriaki wasn’t cheap.

Today, he had received word that Matthews—who was the president of a large shipbuilding company—would arrive with the next flight from Malini Six. Finally!

As he waited at the spaceport, Miller watched the ships and was reminded why he had got into this business to begin with. Ever since his childhood he had always been fascinated by those magnificent and colorful structures capable of flying through the blackness of space, of dancing with the stars, of flirting with suns, and of escaping the sucking pull of black holes.

He recognized the insignia of his company on many of the larger ships, and that gave him pride. Knowing those that lacked it were just private vehicles only reinforced how he felt.

When a huge ship landed, he instantly knew it was Matthews. The sheer size of it was telling enough... but it also bore the logo of the Padran Consortium.

They met at the Central Hearth—a communal area found in every spaceport.

Matthews was a tall, smiling man with short black hair.

“Nice to meet you, Miller,” he said as they shook hands. “I hope you don’t mind if I call you Miller?”

“That’s my name,” answered the assessor with a grin. “Nice to meet you too, Mr. Matthews.”

“Please! Call me Darren.”

“I’ve been eager to meet you, Mr.... Darren. There is much we need to discuss.”

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry I’m late. Had to deal with some last-minute emergencies. You know how it is.”

He did not. But he said “of course” nonetheless. Deep inside, he had a nagging feeling he was being tested.

“You really shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble,” continued the shipbuilder. “I could have used the resort’s shuttle...”

Miller had figured that the sooner they’d meet, the sooner they could get this over with. But he did not say this out loud.

Instead, he smiled and replied: “It’s no trouble at all.”

As they walked to the car he had rented—with his own money—Matthews started talking about the trip and how things kept going wrong. The more he talked, the more he veered away from the topics Miller really wanted to discuss. But it would have been rude to interrupt, so he remained quiet and listened as he drove, waiting for an opportunity to change the subject. But that opportunity never came.

When they reached the hotel, and as Matthews stopped talking to get his bags, Miller made an attempt: “So... Darren... do you think we could talk about my proposal?”

“Of course! That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?” he grinned. “But I hope you won’t mind if I hit the shower first and get into some fresh clothes.”

“Sure. Maybe we can meet at the bar, in an hour?”

“Let’s do that.”

Before Miller could add anything, Matthews disappeared into the hotel.

***

Time is a fickle thing. It can go by so quickly it makes you wonder where the years have gone, let alone the months. But it can also drag on to the point that you’ll wish the months were flying by.

Miller was experiencing such a moment when he looked at his watch and confirmed that, once again, Darren was late.

“What time were you expecting him?” asked Carson.

“Seven. I thought we’d go to a restaurant and chat over dinner, but it’s almost nine now...”

“Well, we could have some food delivered here, if you want.”

“I’m not hungry,” grumbled Miller.

The masked man motioned for a server.

“Could you have two of your famous palinu tani brought to us here, please?”

After the server had left, Miller began to protest: “I said...”

“I know what you said,” interrupted Carson, “but I also know you need to eat. Unless, that is, I’m mistaken in my assessment that you are a human being?”

Miller sighed. There was no use protesting.

“Come on, cheer up! It’s not the end of the world. And if you’ve never had palinu tani, you’re about to give your mouth an orgasm.”

They had met several times since that first encounter, and still Miller felt somewhat intimidated every time he looked at that mask. It was an odd sensation. He wondered if his new friend could read his awkwardness and discomfort... he didn’t wear a mask, after all.

He had to admit, though, the food was good. It was a local specialty, cooked from the flesh of a rare fish that could only be found in the northern seas of Iriaki.

Watching Carson eat was a strange thing. He’d bring the food close to his mouth and, without it ever touching the mask, it would start to move toward him of its own volition, as if sucked by some invisible force, and vanish before it reached the transparent surface.

Perhaps it was this, or the food, or he was starting to feel more comfortable with Carson, or all of the above... but he finally gathered the courage to ask what had been on his mind.

“I don’t mean to pry, but... I’ve been wondering... how do you breathe under that thing?”

Carson quirked a brow. “That’s what you’ve been dying to ask me?” He laughed. “Honestly, I don’t know. It’s... It feels different, but it’s not uncomfortable. I mean, I can breathe normally. I guess through the pores of the mask. Something like that, was my understanding.”

Miller was about to say something, but was interrupted by the sound of laughter from behind him.

“Whoa! Who’s the whiteface?” asked the familiar voice.

Miller looked over his shoulder in disbelief, his mouth gaping wide. It only lasted a second though as he regained his senses and set his fork down. He quickly stood to make the introductions.

“This is my friend, Carson Winston. Carson, this is Darren Matthews.”

Carson stood. The mask made it difficult to read his expression, but he did not shake Darren’s hand.

“Lovely. I shall leave you two to your business, then.”

“No, no, please,” said Darren, “I can’t stay. I’m really sorry, Miller, buddy, but we’re gonna have to postpone, if you don’t mind. I wanted to grab something to eat before our talk, but that took longer than expected. You know how it is. But anyway, I’m too exhausted now to chat. Raincheck?”

“Yes,” coughed Miller. “Of course. No problem. Tomorrow morning?”

“Deal! Good night.”

The two friends watched him walk away.

“Well that was rude,” muttered Carson.

“He was tired, it’s okay. It can wait a few more hours...”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“Oh.” Miller sat back down and stared at his plate. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that...”

“I’ve lost my appetite,” said Carson as he turned and left.

***

If you’ve never been to Iriaki, you might wonder how one could get any sleep on a world that is constantly bathed by the sun’s light. The answer lies in the nightscreens that adorn every room on the planet. With a flick of a switch, you can have the elaborate nano-enhanced windows display a pitch-black sky for your greatest comfort. The illusion is perfect and the technology irreproachable. Once activated, this mode won’t let a single ray of light shine through.

Considering how much this trip was costing him, Miller was glad he could at least get some decent sleep out of it.

In the morning, he had gone down for breakfast, half expecting to find Darren at the cafeteria—or, at the very least, Carson... but he saw neither.

He lingered for some time after he was done, waiting to see if one of them would show up.

As time passed, the crowd thinned. People were busy enjoying their stay—and there was much to do on Iriaki. There never were many left at the hotel during the day.

With a sigh, he finally got up and headed back to his room. He decided he’d get some reading done and maybe try to catch Darren in the afternoon.

As the elevator dropped him at his floor, he heard familiar voices arguing in the empty halls.

“—talk to people like that!” said Carson’s unmistakable drawl.

“Shut up, whiteface! Who do you think you are? You’re nothing! Just dirt under my foot.” Miller’s heart pounded fast as he approached the scene, though he would have recognized that voice anywhere.

“You think you’re so superior because you run a big business? You’re pathetic.”

Miller felt small and insignificant. He wanted to dig himself a hole and plunge deep into it. The one thing he most definitely did not want to do was to walk around that corner, where he would most certainly face the two men. But his room was right there at the corner... what other choice did he have?

Darren snorted. “Why don’t you take off that mask so we can have a real conversation, man to man? You worm!”

“I’d die if I took it off,” said Carson. Miller wondered how his friend managed to remain so calm. “But you’re too ignorant to know that, of course.”

“I thought that crap was supposed to cure everything?”

“It will, eventually, but it takes time.”

Miller stepped around the corner, staring at the floor. He reached for his door and brought out his keycard. He dared a glance at the two men and saw Darren was staring straight at him, with a slight smirk on his face.

“Not that I’d care if you died,” he sneered. “The universe would be better off without scum like you.”

Carson, who was facing in the opposite direction, turned around to follow Darren’s gaze.

Miller looked away, unlocked his door, and rushed in.

***

There were times when Miller wished he was dead. Like that day, as a child, when the neighbor’s son had broken his bike and dared him to tell his parents. Or like when his boss, a few years back, had chided him at a meeting in front of all of his colleagues. Or like today.

But he was here to do a job. And he needed that job. He didn’t have to like it, but he had to do it.

So when Darren asked him to join him at the bar a few hours after that dreadful scene in the hall, Miller had taken a deep breath and headed down.

You can do this! he thought to himself.

Darren greeted him with a friendly smile, as if nothing had happened. He was relieved. He preferred it this way. No point in rehashing unpleasant memories.

“So... tell me what you had in mind,” said Darren as they sat down at a table.

It was evening now and people had started coming back from their exploring. But it still was quiet enough that they could hear themselves without having to speak too loudly.

“Well,” started Miller, “we would like to hire your company to build our next-generation ships. It’d be a fantastic opportunity for—”

“Why?”

Miller blinked. “What do you mean, why?”

“Why would it be such a fantastic opportunity?”

“I work for StarLiner,” reminded Miller.

“So?”

“We control all space travels throughout the colonies...”

“I’m well aware of that. But I’m currently building cargo ships. That’s a very lucrative business. I’m not sure I’m interested in working with StarLiner.”

“Don’t you want to expand?”

“Sure. But there are other options.”

“Like what?”

Darren grinned. “You don’t follow the news much, do you? There are other worlds, out there, beyond our reach—or, rather, beyond your reach.”

Miller’s jaw dropped. “Are you saying you’d make deals with aliens?” He was shocked.

The existence of extraterrestrial life had been suspected for ages. When the proof had finally come, in the previous century, it had sent waves of shock throughout all the colonies. Miller wasn’t sure why it had been such a surprise when it seemed like the most logical thing. How could there not be other sentient beings in the infinity of the universe? Thinking otherwise bordered on presumptuousness.

Over the years, many attempts were made to communicate with these otherworldly creatures. All of them had failed. Not that he was surprised. How could humanity pretend to understand an alien species when Earth was still plagued with racial wars based on skin color? (And how could that, of all things, define an individual’s intelligence, temperament, or criminality?) Establishing a genuine connection with aliens would require an ability to think in ways the human mind could not. Believing otherwise, again, bordered on presumptuousness.

The businessman shrugged. “Why not, if the money’s good?”

“But—”

Darren leaned closer, and he lowered his voice. “Do you have something better to offer me?”

“I... er... what did you have in mind?”

The other man propped his head in his hands, looking at him with a grin. “How about a fifty percent profit on ticket sales?”

“What? You can’t be serious!”

“You know,” he said, “I’ve heard I wasn’t your first choice. That hurt my feelings.”

Miller blanched. He should have guessed he’d have heard of the failed contract. It was a small industry, everyone knew everyone.

“I guess you could always hire SolarDrive. They’re the next big thing after us, I believe?”

Except SolarDrive was a joke. Their ships were nowhere near as big or secure as those that Padran made. And, aside from the one that had walked out on him, the only other major companies were already under contract with StarLiner.

Darren’s voice lowered further. “Did you enjoy that, earlier?”

This took Miller by surprise. He leaned back in his chair. Blinked.

“What—”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. You’re pretty weak, aren’t you? Very lame, if you ask me. No guts.”

“You can’t talk to me like that!”

“Oh no? What are you going to do about it?”

He had a huge grin on his face. Miller wanted badly to wipe it off his face, but he knew he couldn’t, because... There were too many people here. Yes. That was it. Too many people.

“That’s what I thought,” Darren chuckled. “As for our little business, the truth of the matter is that you don’t really have much choice.”

“The committee would never approve your request. You know that.” Miller was just glad the topic had shifted back to something more... proper.

“You’re probably right.” Darren pondered for a moment. “Tell you what. Have a talk with Carson. Tell him he’s the ugliest son of a bitch you’ve ever met and that you hate his guts. Do that, and I’ll sign the contract.”

The proper had not lasted long, thought Miller as he stared at Darren in disbelief. The other man stood without waiting for his response. He winked at him, turned, and walked out.

***

The next morning, there was a knock at his door. When he opened, Miller was surprised to see Carson.

“Hello, my friend. It’s a beautiful day outside. How about we go for a walk?”

“Sure...”

Miller was embarrassed. They hadn’t talked since the interrupted dinner and he felt bad about all that had happened then, and since.

They went out and talked about many things, none of them Darren. He wasn’t sure what to think of it, but dared not broach the subject.

It was good to be out in the open, to breathe the planet’s fresh air. The walk also made him realize why Iriaki was so popular. Everywhere he looked, he saw trees pruned in the shapes of animals, large fountains with birds chirping happily, and beautifully hewn statues representing historical figures—including one of the famous poet Ang Siani. In the distance, you could make out the snowy peaks of the Var Narad mountain range.

By the time they reached the famous Garden of the Centuries, their conversation had died out. They walked in silence for a moment before Miller finally let out a heavy sigh.

“I’m not signing the contract.”

“What?” Carson looked at him in surprise. “I thought you needed it?”

“I do. But the price he’s asking for it...” Miller looked away. “I just can’t.”

Carson frowned. “What did he ask?”

“I... he... wants me to say horrible things. To you.”

There was a long silence before the masked man replied.

“You should do it.”

Miller turned to look at his friend. Carson was staring into the sun.

“How can you say that?”

“How can I not? You need it. Besides, you’ve known me for... what? a week? It’s likely you’ll never even see me again. So what does it matter? If you’re worried it’ll hurt me, it won’t. I’m used to discrimination. I’ve worn this mask for twenty years. I get looks everywhere I go, when it’s not insults or mocking.”

“I admire your courage,” whispered Miller.

Carson laughed—though it was a sad sort of laugh. “It’s not courage. It’s resignation. And acceptance... that I cannot change the way things are, let alone the hearts of men.”

They heard clapping from behind them. Turning around, they saw Darren walking toward them with a smirk on his lips.

“Beautiful pep talk. Just beautiful!”

***

The two friends stared at the obnoxious Darren as he walked haughtily toward them.

“Glad I got here when I did. So, let’s hear it. You even got whiteface’s blessing, so go for it! What are you waiting for? Are you so much of a coward you can’t even do that?”

Miller clenched his fists.

“No,” he said.

“What did you say?”

“I said no. I’m not doing it. You disgust me.”

“You won’t get your contract this way, buddy.”

He walked closer to them as he talked.

“I’m not your buddy. Now get out of our faces.”

“Or what? Besides, I only see one face here.”

Miller’s anger rose as he remembered all the incidents in his life when he had faced similar situations but had backed down. For fear of getting hurt, or shame of others finding out about what had been done to him, or more often than not a mixture of the two. He had always been weak and a coward. He knew it, and he despised himself for it. But there was only so much he could take...

“You’re so lame you’d rather let yourself be humiliated than stand up for yourself. And you say I disgust you?” He laughed. “No, no, you got that wrong. You disgust me. The two of you are perfect for each other. You should get married or something.”

At that point, Miller didn’t care anymore about the contract, or his job. It was his entire life that was running before his eyes. All the grievances and embarrassments. Before he knew it, his clenched fist flew into Darren’s jaw. There was a cracking sound as the two connected and droplets of blood flew from the man’s lips to the ground.

Darren punched back with a growl. “I have to say, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

There was no illusion in Miller’s mind. As soon as he’d started the fight, he’d realized he was going to lose. He was no fighter. He had no experience in this. His hand was already aching just from that one hit. And yet, at the same time, this pain made him feel so good.

He tried to parry the incoming punch but failed miserably. The hit was much stronger than his had been and he found himself thrown to the ground. He idly noticed he was bleeding, too. It felt like a dream, though. And as he watched—in what seemed like slow motion—Darren rushing in his direction, Carson tackled him and they fell together.

The two men fought on the ground long enough for Miller to get back on his feet. He wanted to help his friend, but Darren locked his arm around Carson’s neck, trying to strangle him. Miller knelt and grabbed the arm, pulling on it while kicking at the man’s back to force him into letting go.

Darren grunted and rolled away in one motion. He dropped something white to the floor but, before Miller could see what it was, the businessman swung at him again. This time, he ducked and avoided the hit.

Darren laughed, though it was not a pleasant one. “I had no intention of signing that contract, you know. But I’ll admit, you have more guts than I expected. Maybe I’ll sign it after all.”

“Go to Hell!” said Miller. “I’d rather find a new job.”

He rushed at the other man, head first, and hit him square in the stomach. Darren fell.

It was then that Miller realized what had happened.

When Darren had got up earlier, he had managed to pull the mask off of Carson. The young man was lying still on the ground, eyes opened wide, staring at the sun as the veins in his face darkened and pearls of blood leaked from his eyes.

As life spilled out of Carson’s body, Darren fell on top of him.

His hand touched the highly contagious cheek...

A shriek came out of the businessman’s lips as he realized he had been infected by whatever disease Carson’s body carried. He fell to his knees, crying, clutching at his chest with one hand while the other hit the floor just a few inches away from the mask. His eyes went wide as he saw it. Without a moment of hesitation, he grabbed it and slid it over his head.

Darren’s body, which had started to shake in uncontrollable spasms, relaxed. The alien artifact had done its work, bringing him instant relief.

And while he never felt that particular pain again, he came to know one of a different nature quite well...

For the mask could do nothing against prejudice.

Want to read more of my Science-Fiction stories? Check out these titles, if you haven’t already:

• Letter to Tya (a tyrant recollects his past as he writes a letter to his newborn baby)

• The Human Dilemma (an Orwellian tale of a bleak future with robots and rebels)

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Thank you!

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Text (c) 2023 by Alex S. Garcia.

Header: royalty-free stock image, edited by me.

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