Kyra—Fuschia , Colony Planet
“Damn!” Kyra curses out loud, looking down at her already softened butter. Kyra forgot she’d used the last baking powder. With a sigh of inevitability, she goes and puts some shoes on. She’s already told two people she was making pizza, so she has to go through with it. Pride, you know.
Shoes on, she grabs the air filter and puts it over her mouth and nose, the straps snug against the recently shaved sides of her head. Newcomers to the colony planet, Fuchsia, have to wear oxygen tanks, but second-gen like Kyra get by with just a filter. It’s uncomfortable. Breathing Fuchsia air makes her feel like there are hands resting around her throat at all times. But it’s a hell of a lot more comfortable than the full helmet and oxygen tank.
Those who are born on Fuchsia, and have known nothing other than it’s luminescent sky and dangerous air, see newcomers as soft and needy. They need their oxygen, their sealed homes and fancy cars. A leak, an open door, an afternoon walk can all kill them.
Wollans see us Fuchsians as impolite, aggressive, and arrogant. It’s funny, because all of their parents came from the home-world. Every single one of them were raised by Wollans. Ironic.
Kyra heads out for the store, the purple sky- and reason this planet was named Fuchsia- stretches above her with its constant flashes of lightening. She notices that there’s been a recent hatch of flizards, which are basically flat lizard shaped amphibians that hang out on walls. Colonists aren’t really known to be too original.
It rained earlier, so the bio-luminescent plants glow with the same pink-purple color that lights up the sky. It comes from a chemical that is unique to this planet, called F-2731. That’s actually why all of them are here. F-2731 has medicinal benefits and some other stuff that Kyra doesn’t really care about, because it’s just a normal part of her life. But they love the stuff back on Wol.
The streets are empty except for the occasional magnetic pizza delivery bikes that zip about a meter above the street soundlessly. If Kyra has to leave her house, at least it’s during an important game, though why Fuchsian colonists give a crap about a home-world game, she couldn’t tell you. Colonist teams never make it into championships anyways.
Kyra walks to the store in silence, enjoying the breeze against her bare arms. It’s still warm, even though it’s mostly dark. She is in the city, so the purple sky glows like toxic waste. It isn’t so bright in the country, where the mining operations are.
On the way back, she passes an oxygen-pumped bar full of people hovering in their seats watching one player kick a ball towards another player. The ball gets past, which is apparently what they wanted, because everyone starts cheering and a chorus of whoops and shouts and shrieks rise up around the city. Kyra shakes her head and continues home.
She’s got pizza to make.
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