Astronomy 101: Introduction To Ethical Star Cartography

by Tania Chen

The first thing is to forget everything they taught you about stars. When you put the pen to paper you sign away your name; squid black ink turning red on membrane thin paper, translucent.

Don’t ask any questions. The void won’t have your voice, it won’t reach—it yearns for something else. Here now, in this place, you have been given the opportunity of a lifetime.  

When you delay something it grows monstrous, this is no exception.

You’ve signed your name, this is a contract. Legal and binding. We want to start as soon as possible, there is much to do, you’ve heard this all before. Why, think of this as your small contribution to the greater exploration of Space. A hundred stars within reach. Yours.

Scalpel, please.

Scales scatter the first two passes of the knife, then skin peels off in little chunks like meteor showers passing by. The floor is reinforced steel, you grow used to the burnt metal floor being constantly replaced. Their innards smell like nostalgia, an attempt to make your own insides ache. Ignore the weight in your chest, the way your breath hitches.

This is a business, we must keep up with the times. All you need to know is in the handout.

Forceps, please.

We used to call it 101: A Guide of Heavenly Exploration and Dissection but then there was that Church lawsuit. As if religion has a monopoly on Heaven and everything behind its pearly gates, angels included.

Those only look like bones; they give way like rising bread under thumb and forefinger. Each wing membrane stretched out changes texture, leather to feather, pluck. We don’t yet know why their insides are lined with wings but it is only a matter of time.

Scissors, please

Along the eyelids now, see how they’re all arranged in a row? Ignore the way the pupils slit. No pity. They don’t feel pain. That’s the chemicals secreted to stimulate an emotional and physical reaction. It will feel as if you’re cutting your own heart but it will pass.

You’re really eager to see it, I can tell. Take out your sketch book, charcoal only. Watch your fingers, They dislike being charted and have been known to bite.

Every time a dedicated student like yourselves enters the program we learn more. A good study requires vast amounts of proof—we can’t have one naysayer discredit all our hard work here. There is so much we don’t know. Treat them gently, delicately.

Smile.

A little wider, it keeps Them calm.

Ignore the burning sensation, it’ll pass.

Don’t pick up your tongue and teeth.

Look again.

Smile.

About the Author: Tania Chen

I am a Chinese-Mexican queer writer. My work has been published in Unfettered Hexes by Neon Hemlock, Baffling Magazine, Strange Horizons, Apparition Lit and Pleiades Magazine. A graduate of the Clarion West Novella Bootcamp workshop of January/Feb 2021. Currently I am assistant editor for Uncanny Magazine.