Hydrogen

“Looking at everyone’s papers, I think we should go over the rules for gendered pronouns again,” said Sam, my English teacher.  “As you know, if in doubt, use nongendered pronouns: xe, xer, they, them, xemself,” xe continued, “but knowing someone’s gender dosen’t mean you should use the gendered pronoun.  Only indicate gender when it’s relevant.”  Sam was right. I’ve  caught myself putting genders on tech papers multiple times.

“Allright, class.  I gotta run.”  Sam had the same bio class as me.  It was taught by my younger sibling Riley -- we all call xem Riles.  Riles is wise, but a little impatient -- when Sam had asked why Ancient Earthlings died before their 1000th birthday, Riles rolled xer eyes as xe told Sam that without rejuvenative treatments, humans only live around 80 years.  Barely anyone knows that kind of thing anymore; people usually get rejuvenations every 15 years to avoid wrinkles.

When Riles was done with the class, it was time for lunch.  Riles, our neighbor Cameron, and I went to an empty classroom.  Cameron brought burgers; xe had been cooking at the culinary arts gallery next door while we were in class.  

After lunch, Riles and I headed to history class.  All of the cool people have taken history at least once.  In history, we were discussing the early history of the planet we’re on, which we all call Bugblood.  “Does anyone know why this rock is called Bugblood,” asked Alex, the history teacher.  Riles answered.

“600 years ago, the explorer Caldera Sco discovered this planet, and found it to be inhabited.  Xe was approached by aircraft piloted by the natives while in xer lander.  Feeling threatened, Sco detonated an asteroid-deflection hydrogen bomb in the middle of a plain to threaten the inhabitants.  Within a week, the planet was silent.  Sco arrived on the surface of the planet to find chitinous exoskeletons and thick, black liquid seeping from them covering the surface.”

The rest of history class expounded on that incident.  Sco (whose name seemed oddly familiar) single-handedly killed an entire sentient race, but lives freely today.  The exsanguination of a planet led to no repentance, only laws to prevent it happening again.  I was deep in thought when it was time to go to philosophy class.

Philosophy class was about guilt and innocence.  I like the philosophy teacher -- xe teaches questions, not answers.  Does negligence warrant punishment?  Does bloodguilt demand blood?  These questions seemed to apply to Sco’s case.  Who should punish xer?  Who should leave xer unpunished?

I walked home with Cameron after philosophy class.  We started to talk about Sco, and then xe told me why the name was familiar.  “Xe’s my grandparent,” Cameron said, “xer name is below a picture in my hall.”  Cameron, Cameron Sco, stopped as xe spoke.  “While Caldera was never punished for xer mistake, xe still suffered dire consequences,” said Cameron as xe dropped onto xer knees, “Caldera’s immediate family was prohibited from captaining any craft.  I’m the first generation free to go.  And yet --” Sco said as xe scraped dirt, “the stain remains!”  

A tear rolled down Cameron’s cheek as xe lifted a section of dirt up to the wind.  There was a black hairline through the light, arid soil.  The blackened dust smelled salty and dead as it slipped through xer fingers.  “The guilt of Caldera is everywhere,” my friend Cameron said.

When I got home, I sat on the couch to think.  I’ve seen Caldera Sco play with xer grandchild.  I’ve watched the thoughtless murderer smile, and make Cameron laugh.

That cheerful grandparent killed every inhabitant of a planet.  Is that not murder?

The government punishes murderers by death.  If Caldera had killed humans, xe would have been killed -- taken from Cameron.  Is that not murder?