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Like Ganymede
The inside of the hyper-express bullet train smells like Ganymede. Leah has never been to Ganymede, but according to the perfume stand that she passed by in Titan Square, this scent permeating through the train air is what Ganymede smells like. She pulls her white shopping bag slightly closer to her.
Ads rotate on holo-screens above the railing that Leah is holding onto. The newest model of mobiles and their competitors. Exquisite watches. Cosmetics. A sale for the store Leah had just gone to. Some passengers engage in idle conversation, while others are looking down at their devices. Outside, the skyscrapers of the Upper City whoosh by.
Leah pulls out her own mobile—slightly dated, but still perfectly functional. A beaded strap dangles from it. She checks the weather forecast for the evening. Clear skies with a bit of smog in the lowlands, it says. Not quite at the levels for the masks to come out, which is good, as Leah had left hers at home today. Afterwards, she passes her time messaging friends from school.
Several stops later, the train arrives at her destination, a bus transfer station in Middle City. Unlike the Upper City terminals, there are long snaking lines that seem to never end. She is pushed around by the sheer density of the crowd, but she lifts the bag above her head, carefully protecting its fragile contents. Arms tired, she finally boards the bus, only to find that she must stand while holding the bag up once more.
By the time her bus arrives in Lower City, it is nearly dusk. Most passengers have alighted by now, allowing her to sit down for a good part of the way. The path home from here, fortunately, is quite straightforward—Leah can navigate it with her eyes closed. But instead, she takes a detour into the local market and buys Earth carrots and turnips. The sign says they’re fresh, but she knows better. They wouldn’t be any cheaper if they weren’t, so she buys them anyways.
With her shopping done for the day, Leah walks the rest of the way home as the neon signs above her begin to light up, one by one.
Leah takes the elevator up to her apartment on the sixth floor. Inside, her mother is watching a drama on their old LCD screen. A bullet train passing overhead drowns it out for a bit, and her mother raises the volume in response. “Home, Leah?” she shouts, and sniffs the air. “Oh? What’s that smell? It’s nice.”
“I’m told it’s supposed to smell like Ganymede,” replies Leah. She sets her bags next to the door. “Sorry—the lines at the bus station ran a little longer than usual today.”
Her mother gets out of her chair and takes the grocery bags. She notices the white bag behind it. “It’s good to get out and explore—I know how much you like that. Have fun in the Upper City?”
Leah beams. “Yeah, I got you this!” She holds up the white bag and pulls out a porcelain teapot, adorned with small blue whales.
Her mother takes it into her hands and examines it. “Oh-ho, goodness! Thank you, Leah. It’s wonderful.”
“Saved up for weeks for this. It’s a good one, too! After the old one broke, I thought I’d get you a new one, and you kept talking about how Nana’s home planet was mostly ocean, so I heard about this sale, and...”
A growing roar cuts her off, and Leah rushes to poke her head out the window. High above, a carrier-class passenger ship flies over the city and into the distance. “Whoa,” she whispers.
Her mother chuckles. “A bit old to be getting this excited about the rockets, aren’t you?”
“I’m going to get on one of those rockets someday,” says Leah, closing the window. “See other worlds. See the system. Go exploring, more than just wandering around the Upper City, you know?”
Her mother steps towards the kitchen with the groceries. “Maybe one day, but for now, let’s get supper started.”
Leah follows. “Yeah, one day. Say, do you think this one’s going to Ganymede?”
Ads rotate on holo-screens above the railing that Leah is holding onto. The newest model of mobiles and their competitors. Exquisite watches. Cosmetics. A sale for the store Leah had just gone to. Some passengers engage in idle conversation, while others are looking down at their devices. Outside, the skyscrapers of the Upper City whoosh by.
Leah pulls out her own mobile—slightly dated, but still perfectly functional. A beaded strap dangles from it. She checks the weather forecast for the evening. Clear skies with a bit of smog in the lowlands, it says. Not quite at the levels for the masks to come out, which is good, as Leah had left hers at home today. Afterwards, she passes her time messaging friends from school.
Several stops later, the train arrives at her destination, a bus transfer station in Middle City. Unlike the Upper City terminals, there are long snaking lines that seem to never end. She is pushed around by the sheer density of the crowd, but she lifts the bag above her head, carefully protecting its fragile contents. Arms tired, she finally boards the bus, only to find that she must stand while holding the bag up once more.
By the time her bus arrives in Lower City, it is nearly dusk. Most passengers have alighted by now, allowing her to sit down for a good part of the way. The path home from here, fortunately, is quite straightforward—Leah can navigate it with her eyes closed. But instead, she takes a detour into the local market and buys Earth carrots and turnips. The sign says they’re fresh, but she knows better. They wouldn’t be any cheaper if they weren’t, so she buys them anyways.
With her shopping done for the day, Leah walks the rest of the way home as the neon signs above her begin to light up, one by one.
Leah takes the elevator up to her apartment on the sixth floor. Inside, her mother is watching a drama on their old LCD screen. A bullet train passing overhead drowns it out for a bit, and her mother raises the volume in response. “Home, Leah?” she shouts, and sniffs the air. “Oh? What’s that smell? It’s nice.”
“I’m told it’s supposed to smell like Ganymede,” replies Leah. She sets her bags next to the door. “Sorry—the lines at the bus station ran a little longer than usual today.”
Her mother gets out of her chair and takes the grocery bags. She notices the white bag behind it. “It’s good to get out and explore—I know how much you like that. Have fun in the Upper City?”
Leah beams. “Yeah, I got you this!” She holds up the white bag and pulls out a porcelain teapot, adorned with small blue whales.
Her mother takes it into her hands and examines it. “Oh-ho, goodness! Thank you, Leah. It’s wonderful.”
“Saved up for weeks for this. It’s a good one, too! After the old one broke, I thought I’d get you a new one, and you kept talking about how Nana’s home planet was mostly ocean, so I heard about this sale, and...”
A growing roar cuts her off, and Leah rushes to poke her head out the window. High above, a carrier-class passenger ship flies over the city and into the distance. “Whoa,” she whispers.
Her mother chuckles. “A bit old to be getting this excited about the rockets, aren’t you?”
“I’m going to get on one of those rockets someday,” says Leah, closing the window. “See other worlds. See the system. Go exploring, more than just wandering around the Upper City, you know?”
Her mother steps towards the kitchen with the groceries. “Maybe one day, but for now, let’s get supper started.”
Leah follows. “Yeah, one day. Say, do you think this one’s going to Ganymede?”
Here’s a future slice of life. It’s pleasant and it starts to set a scene, but by itself it’s not a complete story.
At one point we have a reference to Earth veggies (which would likely be ruinously expensive to import and hence beyond Leah’s budget, so I take it that they are Earth-style veggies grown locally). But then later we have “Nana’s home planet was mostly ocean,” which also sounds like Earth–we are still in the solar system here. If Leah knows what Earth is, would she be likely to use the oblique reference?
I don’t know where the author means to take this story, but if the intent is for Leah to become a starfarer in earnest, she would likely know if that rocket was going to Ganymede–that is, she’d be making a hobby of learning more about the local practice of space travel, hanging out in terminals and watching the launches, etc. There should be some hint in her environment or interior monologue that shows she’s more interested than the average citizen. If she’s just a daydreamer, there’s no real issue.
Upper, Middle and Lower City are descriptive place names but don’t convey any history. I’d give them more creative names and work out their spatial relationship to each other in the text. It’d be helpful to get a glimpse of the sky or horizon at some point to help the reader get a sense of location.
At one point we have a reference to Earth veggies (which would likely be ruinously expensive to import and hence beyond Leah’s budget, so I take it that they are Earth-style veggies grown locally). But then later we have “Nana’s home planet was mostly ocean,” which also sounds like Earth–we are still in the solar system here. If Leah knows what Earth is, would she be likely to use the oblique reference?
I don’t know where the author means to take this story, but if the intent is for Leah to become a starfarer in earnest, she would likely know if that rocket was going to Ganymede–that is, she’d be making a hobby of learning more about the local practice of space travel, hanging out in terminals and watching the launches, etc. There should be some hint in her environment or interior monologue that shows she’s more interested than the average citizen. If she’s just a daydreamer, there’s no real issue.
Upper, Middle and Lower City are descriptive place names but don’t convey any history. I’d give them more creative names and work out their spatial relationship to each other in the text. It’d be helpful to get a glimpse of the sky or horizon at some point to help the reader get a sense of location.
It's the start of something, but, as so often happens in mini-fics, there's just not enough length to sink any teeth into. That's unfortunate, because this does begin to form up as a possibly interesting hook to a longer story.
As it is now, though, it's hard to comment a whole lot about this one as a whole without having more. I will at least say that mechanically, I like the use of the present tense to create an engaging immediacy to the action and surroundings.
As it is now, though, it's hard to comment a whole lot about this one as a whole without having more. I will at least say that mechanically, I like the use of the present tense to create an engaging immediacy to the action and surroundings.
I agree with my fellow commenters here: this is the stub of a story. But I'd be somewhat harsher: I think that's partly because of choices you made.
I think you devote too much time at showing us things that pertain to the decor. In other words, instead of focusing on the main character and setting up only the most essential part of the surroundings, you do the exact opposite: you stretch the world building and squeeze the plot. While this is certainly acceptable in a short story contest, in such a small space like this, you shoot yourself in the foot: the result is like a dish with all sauce and no meat.
In other words, knock yourself out in a short story round, but don't do that in a minific one. I mean, it’s not badly written, but don’t think you can grasp the attention of the reader just throwing randoms items out of a futuristic gallimaufry.
I think you devote too much time at showing us things that pertain to the decor. In other words, instead of focusing on the main character and setting up only the most essential part of the surroundings, you do the exact opposite: you stretch the world building and squeeze the plot. While this is certainly acceptable in a short story contest, in such a small space like this, you shoot yourself in the foot: the result is like a dish with all sauce and no meat.
In other words, knock yourself out in a short story round, but don't do that in a minific one. I mean, it’s not badly written, but don’t think you can grasp the attention of the reader just throwing randoms items out of a futuristic gallimaufry.
Nice world, bland characters, could use a better focus on Leih. Kinda too much happening for such a short story. Cut out the filler and expand on the plot next time.
5.5/10
5.5/10
Interesting attempt at thematics - I guess, to Leah, Ganymede means 'adventure'? That was fairly well done, I think. However, this is somewhat lacking in conflict and, because of that, impact.
This would make a pretty good start for a novel, I think. But it's just too diffuse as-is.
This would make a pretty good start for a novel, I think. But it's just too diffuse as-is.
Honestly, I like the beginning a lot more than I like the end. There's an excellent sense of longing and melancholy in the first scene that really just evaporates once Leah starts speaking, which I think is a bit of a shame. I suspect it is also part of the point. That said, I still think reigning in her child-like glee would be a little better. Weird as it is to say, it feels out of character with the Leah in the first scene.
Like, unsure if this connects to the author, but I'm thinking a bit more like Gene Starwind in Outlaw Star talking about space with the prostitute kinda joy and wonder. Just something a bit quieter and more somber.
Beyond that, as others have said, this is a pleasant scene, but not much of a story. You've got the start of something, though.
Like, unsure if this connects to the author, but I'm thinking a bit more like Gene Starwind in Outlaw Star talking about space with the prostitute kinda joy and wonder. Just something a bit quieter and more somber.
Beyond that, as others have said, this is a pleasant scene, but not much of a story. You've got the start of something, though.
This feels very light. The struggle presented is a light struggle. Leah's dream of going to Ganymede seems more of a moderate desire. I don't think all stories should be "I need this story goal 100% badly with all my being", but the flipside of writing a character with a light-feeling goal means I don't really feel much for her in the end other than "Yeah, I guess it'd be nice if she went to Ganymede".
I think establishing the conflict was done well. It's shown that the planet living conditions are not the best and she'd like to be somewhere else. I'm also interested in Leah because (and I think someone else pointed this out before) it seems she's almost a bit hopelessly optimistic, basing her knowledge of the scent of Ganymede on perfume from a perfume stand, almost like she's grasping at straws for only a hint of what Ganymede is like.
In all, interesting character, interesting setup, but like the others, I feel like this is only a start to a longer story, because it feels like we haven't gotten to the good part yet, y'know?
I think establishing the conflict was done well. It's shown that the planet living conditions are not the best and she'd like to be somewhere else. I'm also interested in Leah because (and I think someone else pointed this out before) it seems she's almost a bit hopelessly optimistic, basing her knowledge of the scent of Ganymede on perfume from a perfume stand, almost like she's grasping at straws for only a hint of what Ganymede is like.
In all, interesting character, interesting setup, but like the others, I feel like this is only a start to a longer story, because it feels like we haven't gotten to the good part yet, y'know?
I talked about this in the Discord, but I want to repeat it here in case the author was not there for it: this story is so close to having the best, punchier opening in this round. With a little bit of refinement (mostly cutting the second sentence down to something like "At least that's what the sign on the perfume stand told her.") you have a super evocative and intriguing hook.