The Religion of Death (Part 1)

A giggle floated to his ears, the carefree laugh of a child happy in her surroundings and oblivious of much else. "Good catch, Maria," another voice called, older but still youthful, the voice of a boy fast approaching manhood. "Now, can you throw it back?" A short, raspy breath, a grunt of exertion, then a dull thud. "Ah, can you throw it to me?" came the voice a moment later.

Another carefree laugh. "Sorry, Todd."

"S’okay. Shall I get it?"

Chandler glanced up from his pottering, the alien creature already forgotten as he looked for his children. He found them immersed in their game in the garden next to this one, a larger area where they could play ball without fear of breaking anything or disturbing his precious plants. The large colony homesteads had been scattered across a wide area and his residence was no different, with the small vegetable garden sandwiched between the brick and wood home and the larger grassed area nearby where his children now played. The two types of garden were separated by a lattice fence made of wood, allowing Chandler easy view of his children.

There were ten thousand colonists on Flint, all of varying backgrounds and belief systems, and in such a close community there were many couples but the number of children was strangely low. Many believed this was an adverse effect of old-fashioned lightspeed travel, a low sperm count in many of the original colonist males but absent now in the new generation — those fathered by the few exceptions. Regardless of the reason, there were very few children on Flint; as such, Todd, Angie and Maria had bonded both as siblings and as friends, forming a relationship that transcended many of the ones their elders’ shared.

It was a great tragedy that they had the constant pressure of this still forming society piled upon them, and in many respects they were young adults rather than kids. They were expected to pull their weight and do their share despite their young ages, burdened with responsibility before they were ready, and the stress was manifesting itself in different ways upon each of them; Todd was the eldest and most innocent of the three, he saw everything as a game and had taken to asking questions whenever possible; Angie was ten and appeared innocuous even when she so blatantly sought the attention of everyone she met; while the youngest, Maria, had withdrawn into herself for the most part, only emerging when she played a game as she did now. Their education was a training for life here and was taken very seriously by both their parents and their teachers.

Chandler was the governor of the colony and understood the pressure, had placed much of it himself, though the last thing he wanted to do was hurt them. Seeing them playing like this reminded him that they were still children very much in need of fun, had to let themselves be free and just be loud, damn it, just be children.

Sometimes it felt like they had robbed them of their childhood and those defining experiences. He was grateful for the reminder that kids created their own experiences regardless of unfamiliar circumstances. Or maybe even because of that. "I’ve got the ball, see?" said Todd, holding it high above his head, a smooth purple blob, like a small moon darkened by the blue light of the sun.

"Throw it to me," Maria said.

"Haven’t you already had a go?" Todd said. "What about you, Angie?"

"No. I’d drop it, I would." Angie shook her head vehemently.