Free Lifespan of Starlight by Thalia Kalkipsakis

calmly,
repeating stuff that Mason said in his emails. ‘Then you’re going to choose a new
time to return.’
    You can actually see the tension melt away with each breath. The pinch of a frown
smooths away slowly. Fingers go limp. Shoulders soften.
    His skin is a light golden, face narrow. His frame is slight but balanced.
    It’s only now that I’m sitting here, with space and time to think, that I realise
why I’ve come. One of the reasons, at least. I’m here to see what they’re like, these
people my age who were chipped, deemed worthy of the resources to help them live.
They have a complete set of mother and father citizens, of course. But still. What
makes them special? I want to know. Why were they chosen?
    After about twenty minutes, Mason pulls out of the meditation, breathing in and opening
his eyes. Complete peace hangs about him. ‘I went close, but it’s not easy with –’
    ‘With me here?’ I finish. Not surprised.
    ‘Yes, but …’ The pinch of a frown is back. ‘You helped, too. It felt different. Not
so empty.’
    Already it’s getting weird so I cover up by standing and straightening my shirt.
    ‘Stupid to think that it would work first time,’ Mason says quietly. I’m walking
to the stairs when he calls out, ‘Will you come again?’
    I turn. ‘Why?’
    ‘I know it’s possible because of you.’ His face is so open, so trusting. ‘You stop
me from giving up.’
    Still he has faith. I can’t help wondering what he’d think if he knew the truth.
    ‘Will you come again?’ he pushes.
    A pause, but I don’t really need to consider. ‘Sure.’ Because I think I have faith,
too.
    Even though I don’t know how it works, I saw someone jump in front of me so I know
it can be done. There’s just the small matter of working out how.

I START HANGING OUT with Mason more after that, riding over to his garage after he
finishes
school.
I’m glad to discover there’s a side entrance, which means I don’t have to knock on
the front door. Boc’s often there before I arrive, but he never stays long. It’s
as if the room is too small for him. There’s nothing for him to climb.
    You’d think it would be weird, hanging out with guys my own age after being stuck
on the outside my whole life. But it’s not. Mason’s so obsessed that he just picks
up from where we left off the time before; talking through his latest list of theories
or a new idea he’s going to try.
    I still keep an eye on him online, just in case. One day I find a document on his
hard drive with dates and notes that make no sense at first. It lists a bunch of
numbers and phrases: 4/7/84, 26 deg, 5.5 hr sleep, 930 cal, no carb, 30 min cardio,
5.30pm, 87%.
    Under the date when I first went around, he’d added a single word: Scout .
    He’s recording all the conditions that he meditates in, I realise. Exercise, diet,
sleep and weather, even his changes in body temperature throughout the day: Mason’s
been recording his whole life, tweaking his diet, sleep and exercise in case it helps
him slow his sense of time. Whenever he reaches a deeper meditation, the different
aspects from that day get highlighted and repeated in the next session, until he
makes it even closer and refines each one all over again.
    I start reading more about meditation as well, and practising at home, allowing myself
to sink into the quiet spaces in my mind. I still don’t know what I’m doing, but
I do know that the answer is out there, somewhere. It’s floating just out of our
reach, waiting for someone to give it a name.
    I’m not expecting to disappear, exactly, but meditating takes me closer to some of
the things that Mason’s been saying. Here and there while I’m meditating, my thoughts
begin to slow, and I feel as if I’m coming to understand what he meant when he said
he was outside time.
    Once, I even reach a place where I’m suddenly awake and blinking, confused and staring
around as if I’d forgotten for a split second who I was.