{"id":100043367,"date":"2025-09-30T09:00:00","date_gmt":"2025-09-30T09:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.neondystopia.com\/?p=100043367"},"modified":"2025-09-30T03:05:16","modified_gmt":"2025-09-30T03:05:16","slug":"shining-star","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.neondystopia.com\/?p=100043367","title":{"rendered":"Shining Star"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Since childhood, Bel\u00e9n had prayed to the Tripulaci\u00f3n Originaria, hoping El Caminante<\/em>‘s original crew would choose her to join the worldship’s elite cadre of pilots guiding the massive vessel on its holy peregrinaje through the stars. Bel\u00e9n’s mother had always called Bel\u00e9n her shining star, her milagro who defied the odds and lived, her esperanza who would be El Caminante<\/em>‘s future.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bel\u00e9n had been vain enough to believe her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On her sixteenth birthday, the guardian of the worldship’s templo had summoned Bel\u00e9n for the consulto that would shape her future. She’d traversed the ship to the templo, she’d said her prayers to the Tripulaci\u00f3n Originaria before their mummies, she’d watched as the guardian poured liquid from the sacred urn and sipped it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She’d listened as he told her that the beings around them had revealed Bel\u00e9n would be a cient\u00edfica, and her heart shattered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Don’t be so disappointed,” her mother said when Bel\u00e9n returned to their carefully-decorated quarters. “The cient\u00edficos have the most important job on this ship: el reciclaje pa’ la vida.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“But, Mami, I don’t want to upcycle trash all day. Imagine how much more people would respect us if I were a pilot\u2014or la navegadora, even!”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bel\u00e9n’s mother frowned. “Mija, the cient\u00edficos save lives. They preserve El Caminante<\/em>‘s balance, ensuring nothing goes to waste. They deserve as much respect as the pilots.” She hesitated. “If it weren’t for the cient\u00edficos\u2014”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“\u2014I wouldn’t be here. Lo s\u00e9, Mami. I know.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Good. Now, go freshen up. I’ll order your new uniforms. Our guests will be here in an hour, and I want you shining bright for them. Our benefactors will be thrilled to hear that my little milagro is going to use her brain for science.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Yes, Mami.” Belen retreated to her room. Her mother never failed to remind her how privileged they were, how grateful she should be to the cient\u00edficos, how their science helped Bel\u00e9n survive a mysterious enfermedad when she was a baby. She felt like they’d spent her whole life celebrating that miracle. Her mother was always throwing posh parties, always making Bel\u00e9n the center of attention, always seeking more benefactors for some unknown cause.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Perhaps Mami was right. Bel\u00e9n had always taken El Caminante<\/em>‘s perfect recycling system for granted. At least as a cient\u00edfica she’d have the opportunity to learn how it worked. Quiz\u00e1s one day she’d save the whole vessel from disaster!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Not that anything ever went wrong on the worldship. The peregrinaje had gone on for so long that the policies and procedures established by the Tripulaci\u00f3n Originaria were practically embedded in the DNA of everyone aboard\u2014even the cybernetic hybrids. Everyone knew the consequences of breaking the rules, so nobody ever did. Quiz\u00e1s mechanical failures happened sometimes, but Bel\u00e9n lived so far above the engine rooms on the Deep Belowdecks that she had no idea whether it was even possible for something to break down there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The party that night passed in a blur. Bel\u00e9n barely noticed when her mother introduced her to the granddaughter of El Caminante’<\/em>s current navegadora. When everyone finally left, she collapsed onto her bed and slept.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the morning, a cient\u00edfico not that much older than Bel\u00e9n greeted her in the corridor. He wore the same uniform pale blue jumpsuit and red gloves. “My name’s Merl\u00ed,” he said. “Ven.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She obeyed, allowing him to lead her to Section RR. “I’ve never descended this far,” she confided as they passed through the sanitization chamber outside the cient\u00edficos’ labs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“It’s just labs and the orfanato,” Merl\u00ed said. “Ac\u00e1 est\u00e1 m\u00e1s sucio. Things here aren’t as nice as the High Abovedecks.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A light flared yellow by the lab’s entrance. “Hurry up, we’ve got a fresh one coming in.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“A fresh what?” she asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“You’ll see. It’s nearly time!”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bel\u00e9n jogged after him, following Merl\u00ed into a laboratory that looked more like a medbay. There were already several cient\u00edficos in the room, gathered around three stations adorned with tools and portable freezers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Merl\u00ed, what am I supposed to do?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He picked up a tiny chip with several hair-thin filaments from a station staffed by only one cient\u00edfica. “Hold this until the cirujana asks for it.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“But I don’t have any training!”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Merl\u00ed ignored her, distracted by the lab’s other entrance swinging open. Several cient\u00edficos rushed in, carrying an unconscious boy in ragged clothes who looked about thirteen. A hu\u00e9rfano. He must be. She’d never seen anyone from the orfanato before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The cient\u00edficos flew into action, hooking up IVs. Bel\u00e9n watched with growing horror as they began cutting the boy open before her eyes. When her cirujana turned and beckoned, Bel\u00e9n gave the woman the chip, hands shaking. The cirujana quickly sewed it into the space where the hu\u00e9rfano’s left kidney had been. Other cient\u00edficos operated on the boy’s eyes and heart, deftly removing and replacing them with chips and electronics.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Everyone froze when Bel\u00e9n vomited.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Merl\u00ed hurried her out of the room, swearing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I thought we were scientists, not surgeons,” she whispered. “I thought we recycle things so they don’t go to waste.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“We do,” he replied, helping her to a chair. “When the hu\u00e9rfanos hit their thirteenth cumpleciclos, we take them for our experiments and reciclaje. Every resource matters on El Caminante<\/em>.” His callous tone tone made her retch again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When the reciclaje was done, the cient\u00edficos sent her home early.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her mother found Bel\u00e9n huddled under a pile of soft blankets, sobbing. “Ay, mija, what’s wrong?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bel\u00e9n uncovered her swollen, tear-stained face. “Did you know, Mami? Did you know what they do to the poor hu\u00e9rfanos down there?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her mother blinked. “Of course I did, mija. How often do I tell you that if it weren’t for the cient\u00edficos, you wouldn’t be here? Now, why don’t you freshen up? Our new guests will be here soon, and I want you to tell them all about your first day, my shining star.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She left, and the door closed behind her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bel\u00e9n vomited for a third time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n

Monica Louzon (she\/her) is a queer USian writer, translator, and editor from Maryland. Her fictions have appeared in Archive of the Odd,\u00a0Paranoid Tree, Shoreline of Infinity,\u00a0<\/em>and others. Her story “9 Dystopias” was a Best Microfiction 2023 winner. To learn more about Monica and her work, please visit https:\/\/linktr.ee\/molowrites<\/a>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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