Author: Julian Miles, Staff Writer

It’s so quiet. Even after blasting clouds of dust out through the skylight and dormer window using drone downdraft, it’s like something muffles sound. The noises of removers outside and below, the clanging as Chan works on the decrepit old truck, it’s all muted. I’m grateful for it persisting. Muted, but never cold…
Like Tona, like Calliyanne. Living quietly, not going out, shopping via drone delivery. How difficult must it have been at the start, or did they do it naturally?
Naturally, of course. Like they accomplished everything else, from bringing down the Canguras Empire to leaving London before fomented prejudices turned to violence, it would have been like they’d rehearsed it a hundred times, every action calm and composed.
How do I pack without knowing the reasons for stuff being up here? In a house – and lives – so effortlessly organised, nothing would be simply dumped. What’s up here arrived by conscious decision, not a flighty urge to declutter below. Why did I insist I’d clear the attic?
I can almost hear them laughing as they gently chide me. “Because you felt it the right thing to do. Now pack it as it needs to be, not for why it was.”
Wiping a tear before it has a chance to escape my eye, I set to once again. Today’s been a series of stop/starts, even after instructing the removal crew. The stops are when I get overwhelmed, the starts almost resentful at having to carry on. For all that life down here seems indifferent to their passing, the messages from across former Empire space reassure me there’s been proper respects paid in many, many places.
Another tarnished tin. I tilt it to read the label: ‘Ted Recali’… That’s me!
I turn it back and forth. Looks like old metal, doesn’t rattle, can’t feel anything shifting about inside. I check my hands: clean. The tarnishing is cunning art. I try to crush it a little with my enhanced arm. Servos whine, my fingers hurt, but the box doesn’t deform.
Labelled for me, disguised as junk, made of some space-side alloy.
Naturally…
I press my thumb to the label. A hologram bust of Tona appears in the air in front of me! The resolution is insanely high; it’s like he’s actually here. As I marvel, the hologram expands to include Calliyanne. They speak together, the disturbing-but-comforting synchrony all Cangurassi lifepairs have.
“H’lo, Ted. Chances are you’re sitting in a nearly empty attic, just staring. Before you worry, this is nothing momentous. Simply a little gift. Sorry to have passed on so suddenly, but our travels about the galaxy took an invisible toll we only became aware of very recently. Shame, really. We’d have done things differently a couple of times, if we’d been warned.
“Knowing you like we do, there’s an itinerary of the contents of our home, complete with background information if noteworthy, on the SSD in the lock box that should still be under this.”
Looking down, I see it is.
“You always commented about the quiet here. What you’re holding is the source: a Quietbox. There aren’t many. It’s mainly a multi-purpose shielding device. There’s a rough guide in the notebook, also in the lockbox.”
I check. One notebook, one SSD.
“You just checked, didn’t you?”
They even paused for me to do it. They’re laughing. Crying, I still can’t help joining in.
“Live well, dear friend. Go and see some of the wonders we’ve spoken of.”
The hologram vanishes.
Go and see…
Yes. I might just do that.