Your Replacement Has Requested a Holiday

How it begins

My replacement met me at the spaceport with a suitcase.

For a moment I thought it was mine.

Twenty years away had made me suspicious of familiar things. The terminal smelled of coffee and hot plastic, exactly as it had when I left, but the departure boards now advertised places I remembered as construction sites.

The woman waiting beneath them had my face.

She had also cut our hair better.

"Welcome home," she said. "I need you to sign this."

She handed me a leave request.

I looked at the dates.

"Six weeks?"

"I haven't had a proper holiday since you went to Jupiter."

"You were supposed to maintain my affairs."

"I did. Your roof no longer leaks. Your brother speaks to you. You own a very successful fern."

Behind her, a small boy waved.

"Who is that?"

"Your nephew. Technically ours. We can discuss terminology later."

I had spent the journey imagining this meeting. I expected resentment, a malfunction, perhaps an argument about possessions.

I had not expected administrative efficiency.

She wheeled the suitcase toward a bench.

"There's food in the freezer. The upstairs neighbor is called Sal. Don't mention the violin unless you have an hour."

I sat down.

She sat beside me, and for the first time I noticed the grey at her temples. The company brochure had promised a faithful stand-in. It had not explained what twenty years of faithfulness might cost.

"Where will you go?"

"The sea."

"You hate swimming."

"You do."

That silenced me.

Overhead, an announcement welcomed returning mission personnel. It asked us to report for identity reconciliation before leaving the terminal.

My replacement's expression changed.

She folded the unsigned form very carefully.

"What happens at reconciliation?" I asked.

"Usually," she said, "they thank us."

A security officer began walking toward our bench.

She placed the suitcase between her feet.

I took the form back.

In the box marked REASON FOR LEAVE, she had written:

I WOULD LIKE TO FIND OUT WHAT I WANT.