Sleepless in Cuddly Land
A child should not question her father about grown-up matters.
Teddy can’t sleep.
When Father returned at dusk, he said they had been running riot all day, and the Colony militia had to do the right thing.
Mother was quiet, but I asked him what the words meant. He sat me downstairs and explained. They started behaving badly again after our drones had sprayed the countryside beyond Lumpy Hill.
We had to use more of the magic water that makes the trees go away so our animals can have nice meadows and grass. This made them crazy, and lots of them gathered, almost breaking through the spark bubble of the Svensson farm.
So, to run riot means to behave improperly.
But, I asked Father, are they not only vermin? How can they know what is proper? He became angry and said they were not like us and had no real feelings, anyhow. I then told him I remembered from the time just before we went to sleep in the big, cold starship how Mama didn’t allow the spiders to be squashed in our rooms on Earth.
Pa turned even more angry. He told me I was a silly girl who did not understand that this planet had been given to us and was now our final home. Mama took me quickly upstairs to bed and tucked me in, saying I should not make Pa mad so often, but I think she cried later in the kitchen, drinking her special tea.
Teddy Bear still can’t sleep. I hold him close to my chest, repeating that everything will be right. This world is bright and sparkling, its forests deep and violet, its two moons really neat.
But my fluffy best friend whispers back.
It was their home, before.
In the darkness of my room and by the murmur of faraway explosions, I can feel the wetness from his eyes, and I really, really, want to grow up.
Then I will for sure know how to make him understand.
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