Ganymede was in a cafe, drinking coffee with friends.
It occurred to her that this was what she was doing, and yet, this was not her cafe, and these were not her friends. At least, not the ones she knew.
She looked around. The structure of the cafe was different from the one back in her hometown. The people in the cafe were different, too–it was still mostly canines, but none of them were ones she knew, and there was more of a mix of species. Not that she truly knew everyone back in her hometown, but she at least would have recognized them. She didn’t recognize anyone here. Well, except for the three people sitting at her table.
Everything looked different from her hometown, and yet, everything here looked like it could have easily been in her hometown.
When they decided to build a cafe in her hometown, they could have decided to structure it to look like this one instead of the one they actually built, and it would have been just as comfortable. If her hometown wasn’t so against outsiders, there could’ve been a mix of different kinds of people in that cafe, too, of those she did and didn’t recognize. Her hometown could have been so many different kinds of hometown, while still being a hometown.
This town could have been her hometown.
She felt displaced. She was displaced, of course, but she felt displaced in a different sense. She remembered some of the stories she read about the moon, the ones where the protagonists traveled through time, or into different worlds. She felt like she had stepped out of her original timeline and into a different one, one where she was still Ganymede, but she was a different Ganymede, one who belonged here instead of in that other town.
But she wasn’t that Ganymede, she was simply someone who looked like that Ganymede, and had stepped into her place.
Maybe she had stepped into a new reality. And maybe it was the moon that brought her here.
She looked at her companions. At this point, she felt like she had known Dal-Sun for a while–there was just something about her that made her feel relatable to Ganymede, even though she was a very different kind of person from her, more headstrong, more outgoing. It was probably that same nature of Dal-Sun’s that made her seem familiar; Dal-Sun clearly wanted Ganymede and everyone else to see her as familiar, and her methods seemed to be working.
To Dal-Sun’s side, there was Arya, the bird. She was light brown with an orange beak, with a line of black feathers going across her eyes and circling all the way down to her chest like a necklace. The wingfeathers on her arms had black stripes going across them, too. As far as Ganymede could tell, the coloring was natural. Aside from all that, Arya was pleasantly round, combining complex and pretty feather aesthetics with a simple and comforting outline. Her blue blouse and skirt were both simple and pretty, too.
Arya had an inviting presence about her in other ways, as well. She didn’t bring herself into others’ personal spheres like Dal-Sun seemed to do, but she carried herself with a certain kind of grace and spoke with a warmth that implied that others were already part of her personal sphere, welcome to bring their troubles to her or come to her for advice. Ganymede’s past experience with similar people had shown her that the welcoming presence didn’t necessarily include her, so she had been reluctant to speak with Arya very much so far, but given her limited options for socialization, she knew she would have to give Arya a chance eventually, and she seemed safer than the only other option here.
Martim, the lizard, on Dal-Sun’s other side–a gecko, as she understood it. A large, pale green body with small brown markings going across it. Full of muscle, and often wearing tight, sleeveless clothes that made it obvious. Ganymede was sure that anyone who saw him–or “zim”, as Dal-Sun and Arya seemed to always refer to him for some reason, perhaps as some sort of inside joke–would assume he was a hired bodyguard, and Ganymede wasn’t sure that this was actually far from the truth.
He was jovial, but in a way that felt strangely impersonal to her, in a way that reminded her of her uncle’s personality. Fortunately, Martim never made any comments about how Ganymede dressed or acted, but he kept calling her “kid” like she didn’t know what she was doing, all the same. Sometimes Ganymede felt like she could feel more comfortable speaking with Dal-Sun or Arya, but then Martim would laugh or make some comment that would remind her of his imposing presence, and she would recede into herself again.
But now, looking at the three of them in this cafe, she wondered if that was even fair of her. He was bigger than her, yes, and she was used to that meaning “danger” back in her hometown. But she had also been taught to view outsiders in general as a threat, and she wondered how much that image might be biasing her.
He reminded her of her uncle, who she didn’t like, but he reminded her of her uncle–her family. Martim could’ve been her family, in that theoretical alternate timeline, like in her books. He was someone’s family, already. Why couldn’t he be hers?
Dal-Sun noticed Ganymede staring at the rest of them in turn. “What’s up, sugarcube?” she asked. She kept using cute nicknames for Ganymede like that, but for some reason it didn’t feel demeaning to her like “kid” did.
“Nothing, it’s just…” Ganymede looked around. “I’m still getting used to even being here. It still doesn’t really feel real.”
“That feeling lasts a while,” Dal-Sun said. “But you know, it helps if you let yourself engage with it. We’ve barely heard a peep out of you ever since we brought you with us.”
“Yeah, I…” Ganymede looked down at her lap. “I don’t really talk with other people much. Sorry.”
Dal-Sun had another playful, knowing smirk on her face. “Is it that you don’t want to talk with other people, or is it that everyone else taught you not to talk with other people? Shamed you out of talking to other people, because they didn’t like what you had to say?”
Ganymede felt heat rising into her face. “Um.”
“I’m telling you, we’ve all been there,” Dal-Sun continued. “And you’re among friends now. We want to know who you are and what you’re thinking about things, Ganymede. Help us out, give us some insight.”
Ganymede glanced at each of them. She had trouble believing that any of them would want to know about how she was just surveying and making judgments of each of them. “Well,” she said, deciding to deflect, “I feel like you all still know more about me than I know about you. I’m curious about… where everyone’s come from, and what brought you all here.” It wasn’t untrue, at least.
“All right, that’s fair. I guess we did forget to get around to proper introductions in the excitement of everything.” Dal-Sun looked at each of the other two. “Ganymede and I have already talked with each other a bit, do either of you want to go first?”
“I can,” Arya said. She took a sip of her coffee before continuing. “I was born in Naya Patta, across the ocean, a city of chukars like myself. Our culture has a strong reverence for the moon, and we believe it is our birthright to return to the moon at some point in the future. We also have our own traditions that are meant to help us return to the moon, but… it was my own belief that some of our methods had become… corrupted, over time, to put it bluntly.”
She tapped a talon against the side of her cup, a look of concentration on her face. “Though obviously this doesn’t apply to everyone, the fact of the matter is that much of the current state of our belief system has been heavily influenced by various groups and individuals seeking political gain. We have lost some important history, all in the interests of maintaining tighter control over the populace. Worse, usually whenever I bring this up, whenever I point to lost parts of our culture that are recorded in history books, I am dismissed as being blasphemous.” She squinted and frowned. “Or old-fashioned.
“Well, part of our old traditions include taking a pilgrimage. Travel over long distances is meant to help prepare us for our journey back to the moon. I saw joining the Lunites as a way to direct my own world-spanning journey, while still keeping me focused on the core purpose of that journey. Truth be told, I do not agree with most of the Lunites regarding the methods and purpose of reaching the moon… but I acknowledge that they have been more accepting of my beliefs than most of the people from my own culture were, and I am grateful that they are providing me with space and opportunities to get in touch with this part of myself that my own home, ironically, did not.”
Ganymede considered this story. It felt oddly similar to her own: A girl studying books and discovering old bits of culture that were no longer accepted by her own culture. A city of a single species that was under strict religious control. The main difference seemed to be that Arya was earnestly invested in her city’s religion, when Ganymede could never fully connect with the teachings of the Alpha. But maybe Ganymede would feel more connected to Arya’s religion, since it was so centered around the moon. She considered asking Arya more details about it later.
“As for me, I grew up on the streets of Calhoun,” Martim said, crossing his arms. “Just part of your usual rough-and-tumble group of kids looking for trouble. I’ve always had a thirst for adventure, wanted to travel the world. I guess joining the Lunites was an excuse to do that instead of settling down anywhere, but… I also just really like the vibe of the organization, you know?”
He shrugged. “Not only that, but… actually, I come from a place with its own share of political problems, just like Arya does. There’s a big rift between the rich and the poor, and it’s a struggle to make any kinds of positive changes at all. Again, I’m not one to settle in one place, but I still want to help out how I can, so I’ve kinda been hoping… If we can figure out how to reach the moon, maybe that will give us the power for greater things here on earth. For global liberation,” he said, landing a fist on the table. “Or, if not that, maybe I’ll find some treasure somewhere, bring it back home, and have some actual money to make actual changes. If not that, maybe I can find ways to help some people in other towns who are struggling with their own oppression.”
“Your situation isn’t the only time we’ve busted someone out of jail,” Dal-Sun added, gesturing towards Ganymede. “Sometimes some selective pushback against the law can help build some very strong connections with the locals. Doesn’t really help in places like your town where the people are authoritarian enough to actually like the law, though.” She took a long sip of coffee.
“Yeah, I think it shows how we’re all just people helping each other, in the end.” Martim looked back to Ganymede. “We’re a loose organization that’s not connected to any specific place or government, or any other power structure. It gives us the freedom to take care of ourselves and other people however we see fit. A part of me hopes it will set an example for how other groups can operate, governments included.”
“We help other people if they’re helpful to us in return.” Dal-Sun pointedly stuck a finger in the air. “I don’t want to give the impression that we make a habit of going around and getting on the bad side of various cops and government forces. That would be terrible for us. Buuut, some quiet favors here and there can get some conversations moving forward, so long as nothing can be traced back to us.”
“You think what you did for me won’t get traced back to you?” Ganymede asked, feeling self-conscious.
“Eh.” Dal-Sun swirled her coffee. “That was more of a case where your town was never gonna do anything good for us anyway. I’m telling you, you’re the only good thing to come out of that town.”
That can’t be true, Ganymede thought to herself, thoughts of Jess returning to her.
“I… prefer to handle things legally, where possible,” Arya said, giving the others a stern look. “Not that I consider government to be the highest authority, I certainly don’t. I just think breaking the law is a last resort.”
“It is!” Dal-Sun said. “We don’t mean to get on anyone’s bad side, after all. But it’s not our fault if they stand in the way of what we’re trying to do. Live and let live, I say, and if others won’t ‘let’ you live, well, you ignore them and live anyway.”
Ganymede tried to process all this. It was so different from how her hometown saw matters of the law, almost scary to consider. It was the general consensus of the town, even among most of her friends, that the purpose of the law was in helping people live the way they wanted to. To protect everyone from those who might try to hurt them or steal from them. Or it was to collect taxes in order to provide resources to those who needed them–like her art center was supposed to be.
Then she considered her own position as a criminal. Why had she been put in jail? Because she had hurt other people? She didn’t want to hurt people, she had hurt people because she was angry, and she was angry because the law itself had come to take something away from her and everyone else. She certainly didn’t have plans to hurt anyone else, and she wasn’t even sure why she felt like it was so necessary the one time she did do it. Was she meant to be kept in a cell because it was likely to happen again?
Was that true? She had always felt so different and distant from the rest of her town. Was she a criminal by nature, destined to harm others, and her town had only just realized that and acted accordingly? Is that why her friends and family had left her, because she was so fundamentally different from them, that she needed to be separated from them forever?
Suddenly, Dal-Sun was tapping her shoulder. “Hey, buddy. Hey, friend,” Dal-Sun said. “You’ve got that look on your face again. You’re dipping into bad memories. I’m gonna ask you to stop that.”
Ganymede sighed. “I’m sorry. This is just… you’re talking about breaking the law. Are you serious? Is this something you do regularly?”
“Not regularly, no,” Dal-Sun said. “At least not in any big ways. But we have to leave the option open sometimes. That’s just life, hon. You did it yourself.”
“Not on purpose!” Ganymede wrapped her arms around herself. “I never meant to hurt anyone.”
“Hon,” Dal-Sun said, setting down her coffee and giving Ganymede a sad look, “you didn’t hurt anyone.”
“Yes, I did. I punched some people, I… I hit someone with a hammer.”
Dal-Sun’s expression remained unchanged, but the eyebrows on the other two shot upwards. Martim snorted and raised a paw to his mouth, barely concealing a grin. “Bad-ass,” he said. Dal-Sun slapped him on the arm.
“What I mean is, you didn’t leave anyone with lasting injuries,” Dal-Sun said. “And it’s clear to me that you weren’t trying to hurt anyone seriously. You were panicked and you started throwing fists. It happens. Especially when you’re not being given support or respect by anyone. Then you were swarmed and cornered and it got even worse. The answer was not throwing you in jail. But that’s all beside the point I’m trying to make right now, and the point I’m trying to make is this: Yes, we break the law sometimes. Because sometimes doing the right thing, or the best thing, requires breaking the law.”
Dal-Sun was staring at her intensely now, making her uncomfortable. She wondered if she was supposed to say something, but then Dal-Sun continued speaking. “It’s worth knowing, before joining the Lunites, that this is how we feel about these things. It’s why we rescued you, because we thought it was the right thing to do. If you feel differently, you don’t have to join. But it’s worth telling us before you get any deeper into it.” She relaxed her facial expression and brought her coffee to her mouth again. “Do you agree?”
Ganymede thought about it. She never thought she had any problems with the law, but she knew some of her friends did, and often got into trouble with it themselves. And she never actually saw anyone being arrested before she herself was. She knew other people had been, but her parents had always said they deserved it. Did they think she deserved it, too? Did they decide that because she had been thrown in jail?
“Ganymede, where do your morals come from?” Dal-Sun asked softly. “How do you know what’s right?”
Ganymede’s answer was immediate. “The moon.”
“The moon. Okay. Meaning… Do you read tarot or something like that?”
“No, no, I just… I read a lot of books on the moon, I studied religious rites and laws surrounding the moon, I gathered up a lot of information that I think is relevant across different cultures, but… honestly, more than that, in moments where it matters, I just… I just sense it, I just know whether the moon would…”
Dal-Sun tapped a fist against her own chest. “You know it here. In your heart.”
“Yes,” Ganymede said. “Yes, I guess.”
“Do you think laws are written from the heart like that?”
Ganymede stalled. “I want to think they are,” she said, shaking her head. “But… there are so many rules that have never made sense to me. And I know I’ve been doing the absolute best that I’m able, the most I’ve been able, I’ve been doing the best I can to help everyone, but… but they still told me it was wrong, and it’s so obvious to them, and I don’t understand why.” Tears were coming to her eyes. “I think there’s something wrong with me, I think I can’t tell what’s right…”
“Hey, hey.” Dal-Sun was reaching over to rub her arm. Arya was giving her soft pats on the back as well. “There’s nothing wrong with you. There are a lot of people who feel that same way.” She returned to her original position in her seat. “And that’s my point. Laws don’t come from morals. They come from people trying to take control of things. Like Arya’s city, with people ignoring or rewriting history and changing how the religion works. Or Martim’s home, where they hoard the wealth and leave others destitute. Or like your town, which tore down something you built for them, only because they’re afraid of people coming in from outside. Afraid of change, even if it’s for the better.”
“Why do they treat it like morality, then?” Ganymede asked, trying not to choke.
“That… is a complicated question, honey. But we shouldn’t have to answer it when we already know what’s actually right. We shouldn’t have to argue our case against theirs, they’re the ones who should prove their values to us. And they have all the power in the world to do it, and they’re STILL screwing everything up.” She slammed her fist on the table, shaking the cups.
“I…” Ganymede swallowed. “I guess. I don’t know. I think I’m just not capable of understanding.”
Dal-Sun sighed and closed her eyes. “All we have to do is get to the moon,” she said. “Everything else will get sorted out afterwards.”
Ganymede stayed silent. She was tempted to envision actually reaching the moon herself, but sometimes the thought of it was more painful than comforting, when she felt so far away from it. This was one of those times, so she tried to think of something else. In this moment, a thought occurred to her. “Oh,” she said, “Dal-Sun, how did you get started?”
“Hm?”
“In the Lunites. Everyone was sharing their stories of where they came from and how they joined, and we got distracted from that.”
“Oh. Well…” Dal-Sun leaned back, smiled, and looked to the ceiling. “I don’t think it matters, really.”
Ganymede waited for her to elaborate, but she didn’t. “Huh?” Ganymede said.
“I already told you I was kicked out of my hometown. They already sent the message that they don’t want anything to do with me.” She shrugged. “So I don’t consider them part of my history. They don’t want me to anyway, right? Why should I?”
Ganymede considered it. “Okay. But why did you join the Lunites?”
“Because I felt like it.”
Again, she didn’t seem to plan on elaborating. Ganymede looked at the other two. Martim was looking at Dal-Sun and shaking his head. Arya was staring straight ahead, focusing on drinking her coffee not looking at anyone else. Ganymede wondered if they had already tried to get answers from Dal-Sun about this.
Dal-Sun laughed. “Look, Ganymede, your background can be fun, if you have fun with it. But you decide who you are. No one else gets to dictate that. If you don’t like part of your history, erase it. Become someone new. It’s your life, you have the freedom to do that with it. It’s what I wanted to do, and so I did. And now I am simply what I am now, what you see before you: Dal-Sun. And I’m happy being that.”
Ganymede considered her own history. She could try not to think about the past, but she didn’t think she could ever get rid of her memories, even if she wanted to. She also knew that there would always be people who remembered her and who she was, and she didn’t have the ability to change that, either. Surely Dal-Sun couldn’t be any different, could she?
But then, perhaps Dal-Sun would never be anything to her except the person she was right now, and maybe that was all Dal-Sun was saying. And maybe Dal-Sun was saying that she was willing to accept Ganymede to be whatever it was that Ganymede chose to be, rather than the criminal that her town had decreed her to be.
“All of this is a lot for me to take in,” Ganymede said.
“Yeah, I figure you’re just gonna be experiencing culture shock with us for a while,” Dal-Sun said. “Your town was pretty isolated. That’s okay. Like I say, we’ve all been there, we’re all willing to be patient with you. Just don’t rat us out to the cops as long as you’re with us, okay? That’s dangerous for you, too.”
“I won’t,” Ganymede said, and she meant it. She didn’t know what was right or wrong, and didn’t feel like she was in a position to say one way or another, so she decided avoiding guards was appropriate overall.
Ganymede idly considered Dal-Sun and her identity once more. As she did this another thought occurred to her, and she realized she needed to ask something. But she decided it was probably best to wait until she could ask Dal-Sun in private.
As they left the cafe, Arya and Martim got into a heated discussion between themselves about proper coffee preparation. While they were preoccupied, Ganymede indicated to Dal-Sun that they should keep some distance to discuss something of their own.
Ganymede mumbled a bit, now finding it difficult to work up the courage to ask. “Um, I was just thinking. Up to this point, I was… Well… I’m sorry, this is kind of embarrassing and maybe I shouldn’t even be asking…”
“I’m rarely embarrassed by anything. What’s up? You can talk to me.”
“Well, it’s just… are you… a man… or a woman?”
Dal-Sun stopped in her tracks, and turned to face Ganymede. She placed a paw on her hip. She had a deeply incredulous look in her eyes, but she also had a big smile on her face.
Ganymede suddenly felt ashamed. “I… up to this point I’ve been assuming you’re a woman, because… well, you just dress so prettily, and… b-but maybe that’s just how you dress, and I don’t mean anything bad by it, but everyone else in town said you were a man, and I just thought… well I didn’t want to assume, but now I’m feeling like asking might be even worse…”
“It’s okay,” Dal-Sun said, once again placing a reassuring paw on Ganymede’s shoulder. “Thank you for saying I look pretty. I put a lot of effort into how I dress and I’m glad you think it looks nice.”
“You’re welcome.” Ganymede was now blushing furiously. “So, um… since we’re on the topic… uh, which one are you? Man or woman?”
“Neither.”
Ganymede looked at her blankly. “Huh?”
“I’m neither.” She spread her arms. “Like I said. I’m what you see before you. I’m Dal-Sun.”
Ganymede stared at her. She was not prepared for this answer. “But… you… everyone has…”
“Look, I can already tell this is gonna be a long conversation, but do you really want to have it right now? You already said you have a lot on your mind as it is, and we still have some places to stop and visit while we’re here.”
Ganymede rubbed the back of her head. “Um. Okay.”
“Just remember what I told you.” Dal-Sun took Ganymede’s paw and led her back in the direction of Arya and Martim. “Your life is your own. You can make it be anything you want it to be.”
