Fresh out of cheerleading practice, Neesa helped Moira set up an interplanetary video call, making sure that the connection was stable so that the conversation would go smoothly. Moira entered the password to join the group meeting hosted by Nardho and soon several different screens popped up, revealing the host, his sister, and Vannie. Neesa nodded and left Moira’s room to let the cousin enjoy the meeting session uninterrupted.

“Hi Moira! Good to see that our virtual meeting begins on time. I was worried the signal would be weak on my end, but it turns out pretty decent. How was your day?” Nardho greeted excitedly, his voice deep and yet soothing, Moira swore that he would make a good singer.

“Ha-ha, is that so?” the guy smirked at Moira’s remark. “I don’t like singing, I’m more of an electric guitar and ukulele type of guy, but Nardhia does! She always sings whenever we are on a road trip or whenever she’s happy, really. I grow up listening to her making up her own tunes, they are catchy,” Nardho hums a foreign melody.

“Aw, Nardho, you make me sound as if I am an excitable little kid! But yeah, I like to make my own songs. Maybe I’ll teach you how to sing them when we meet in person, Moira. Now, though, let’s focus on Vannie’s project!” Nardhia chimed in, splitting the screen to show a file folder on her computer. Vannie’s jaw dropped as she saw the folder contained excerpts of news and interviews from centuries ago, complete with photographs and captioned social media posts.

“You two did my homework for me? But you shouldn’t. I don’t want to cheat!” Vannie panicked. In the web camera, Moira could see Nardho glanced at Nardhia, giving her a look that only siblings could understood. 

“Nah, we are not gonna let you be a cheater. We simply want to share primary resources, but you have to write your essay yourself! Our late paternal grand aunt and her husband were still alive during the Disability Revolution and they witnessed a civil war in Silver Pine between the people of Red Sycamore origin who were sympathetic to the activists and people of Black Elm origin who were not. Our grand uncle was a reporter and a journalist, he left behind what essentially was a diary. This diary, if you can even call this collection of newspaper clippings that, has been passed down in our family for generations like an heirloom,” Nardhia explained and Nardho seconded her.

“Oh wow, that’s super cool, I’ll read the diary later. I want to see the pictures! Let see if Moira feels comfortable turning photographs into painted portraits!” Vannie was fascinated.

Nardho sent copies of the pictures to Moira, who went through them one by one. She finally settled on three pictures out of maybe fifty or sixty pictures total and asked the group for their thought on if the pictures would still look good converted into oil paintings. Why did Vannie want an oil painting anyway?

“My school is gonna display all students’ projects as a large exhibition in a museum and I think museum is sort of like an art gallery, so I suppose I can kill two birds with one stone: I get to learn about our solar system’s common history and you get to have your art recognized! Hey, I heard my teachers talked in the staff room that the school plans to invite TV crews to broadcast the event live and who knows, you may get to have your first taste of fame!” Vannie said, beaming with a smile that said I am a genius. Moira turned scarlet as she never considered herself worthy of having her art hanging in a gallery, but she thanked Vannie.

The first picture Moira chose saw an elderly woman in a wheelchair shielded a little boy who looked about seven years old. Two police officers were carrying a tank of tear gas, seemingly ready to gas the protestors who crowded behind the woman and the little boy. Vannie said the picture represented selflessness in the name of solidarity, while Nardho said that it showed him that figures of authority could be very cruel, and Nardhia said that it saddened her to see people who fought for equality were met with such hostility from those who were supposed to be protectors and not side with the oppressors. Moira herself thought that the posters that the protestors brought told stories of their own; the posters were full of strong statements like Disabled Lives Matter, Nothing About Us Without Us, and Ableism is Death Sentence. The group agreed that the picture would be an appropriate one to include in Vannie’s project. They knew that people might question why a little boy was present in a protest, but Nardhia had convinced the group that it was a good thing for young children to be taught about what was just and what was unjust so that they wouldn’t grow up without a sense of empathy.

The second picture was difficult to look at but Moira understood that her discomfort was nothing compared to the horror experienced by survivor of sterilization efforts. The picture saw a woman being dragged from her wheelchair to a room that said “ Mandatory Surgery”. The woman was crying and screaming while the men who restrained her had an expression of nonchalance, seemingly blind to the woman’s distraught state.

The last picture was emotional for Moira. It showed a young lady being confined to a bed while two surgeons observed a screen that showed what looked like a fetus with stunted growth. A man sat next to the young lady’s bed, burying his face. Moira had chosen the picture because it reminded her of her late mom and made her questioned what could have been if the government had known that her dearly departed mom, who had spina bifida, was pregnant with a developmentally challenged baby and forced her to undergo an abortion or sterilization. Moira was pro-choice but the thought of disabled women being sterilized and locked up in facilities still scared her. The group was reluctant about Moira painting that picture, but she was adamant and seeing her resolve made everyone agree to let her paint it, with a reminder that she could talk to any of them if she started to feel her mental health worsening.

The air in the room felt heavy and for a moment no one said anything, until Nardhia broke the silence. “Hey Nardho, why don’t you show Moira one of your guitar tricks? You said you wanted to form an orchestra club for electronic dance music once you get to Blue Orchid, right? Let’s see if Moira thinks you have what it takes to establish an orchestra!”

Nardho excused himself to grab his musical equipment and came back with a professional-looking set. Moira asked if she could record the jamming session and Nardho said yes. It was glorious and soon Moira felt her heart was as light as a feather, no longer troubled with thoughts of her never being born. It looked like the group did not want to end the meeting yet, though.

“Hey, I want to play an online multiplayer game with you guys! It was released just last week and it’s about treasure hunters! Let’s go on a treasure hunt!” Vannie suggested.

For the next few hours the group ran around in an augmented virtual reality, battling monsters in underground dungeons and reading maps and solving puzzles. They managed to collect a great deal of bounty and unlocked an achievement called Master of Navigation. Before Moira realized, it was dinner time and, unwillingly, she said farewell to Vannie and the twins.