In The Stars' Brilliance — Part Three
By Georgina Kamsika
The screen beeps completion of the slime sample analysis: pages of incomprehensible data with only a few words she understands. Biogenic silica, polysilanols: rock. The alien is what it seems: a living, moving rock. Kepler-447d: a lump of rock inhabited by the same, orbiting a binary star.
Mehtab pushes the screen away. She crosses her legs and settles her breathing. Yoga sutras dance through her subconscious. A deserted planet inhabited by an alien. A far cry from everything she’s known: the chaos of Kolkata, people everywhere, the honk of horns, bright colours, the taste of dust on her tongue.
The Kolkata of her news packets stands empty, inhabitants dead of starvation or disease or floods. Earth is moulting humanity like a dead skin, verdant jungles reclaiming the land. Colony ships are the only hope. But they only travel to planets that register as habitable. Not to failures like hers.
Mehtab checks her suit’s charge. She needs a walk.
We gaze upon the skies, and in the stars' brilliance, our atman fly. For in their radiant glow, we find a timeless connection, where journeys begin.
Her father might never have seen the skies of an alien world but his words sooth Mehtab as she watches and waits.
Not that she can see stars. Darkness fell about twelve earth hours ago—if her math is right—but frothing clouds fill the skies. Golden lightning streaks the far horizon, spitting down against the mountains.
The solitary alien moves close by. In the darkness, faint luminescent creatures, insect-like, scurry around its excretion. Excitement buzzes in Mehtab’s veins as she lumbers forward and reaches for one. Her fat suited fingers are thicker than the creatures darting in front of her. She hesitates, suddenly awkward, withdraws her hand, and retreats to observe.
Golden shells glimmer as the creatures scoop the excretion into their mouths. Dark and light bands roll along their bodies in waves as slender legs propel them forward. If only she had real scientific training, she could study them—figure out the larger ecosystem.
Humans had failed to understand their own planet to the extent of non-stop pandemics, immigration crises, and global wars. They couldn’t even communicate with the most intelligent animals: dolphins, octopuses, and elephants are closed boxes. If humanity can’t understand higher-order thinkers of its own planet, how can Mehtab begin to fathom a completely unknown life form?
She cannot see eyes or ears—cannot detect any senses. How can she tell whether it is even aware of her, never mind able to think or reason?
Georgina Kamsika is a speculative fiction writer born in Yorkshire, England, to Anglo-Indian immigrant parents and has spent most of her life explaining her English first name, Polish surname and South Asian features. She graduated from the Clarion West workshop in 2012, was the UNESCO Cities of Literature Writer for Wonju in 2022.
As a second-generation immigrant, her work often utilises the speculative element to examine power structures that are mirrored in the real world, touching on issues of race, class, and gender. She can be found at kamsika.com and @GKamsika on most socials.
Copyright © 2025 Georgina Kamsika