Always Human story 2 (Patreon)

The Nature of Hair in Low Gravity

1 - Earth

A few weeks before Sunati departed for Enceladus she was provided with a list of the standard requirements for astronaut personal presentation. Hair, she was told, should either be close-cropped, or long enough to tie up into a neat bun with no stray strands. There were to be no fringes. No side cuts. No shoulder-length hair.

As a civilian Sunati technically didn’t have to follow these rules, but it was very strongly advised.

She went with long hair, of course. She hoped that when she was alone, in the privacy of her room, she’d be able to keep it loose.

Long, loose hair must be wonderful in microgravity.

2 - Departure

To her delight, Sunati discovered that no one on the ship particularly minded what she did with her hair. The crew all had regulation cuts, but the passengers did whatever they wanted. Very few had tied their hair back. Some had the shoulder-length hair Sunati had specifically been told to avoid. One man (she thought he was a data analyst heading to the asteroid belt) had his hair twisted into dozens of tiny, bejewelled braids that hovered butterfly-like around his head, catching on anything that got too close. If something like that was okay, then surely it would be okay for Sunati to leave her hair loose.

Surely. Wouldn’t it?

So Sunati let her hair flow out behind her as she completed her training, as she ate her meals, as she talked to the passengers. She quickly learned to tie it up when playing with the diversional therapy dogs (given half the chance they would slobber all over it). But the rest of the time she let it halo above her shoulders, whispering through the air, drifting in and out of view as if she were underwater. She felt like a mermaid, journeying through an endless sea of stars. It was such a ridiculous, glorious thing to think. (She took a couple of very silly photos and sent them to Austen.)

And if she was sad sometimes, if there were days when her tattoo glowed for hours, and nights when she’d press her fingers so tightly into Austen’s ring that it left a lines against her skin, what of it? What did it matter if everything was different? What did it matter if she couldn’t even cry properly, if the tears stung sharply as they swelled against her eyes?

She’d made her decision, and it grounded her in a way that gravity no longer could. And besides, she had a job to do.

Sunati was responsible for archiving everything she experienced, including her journey to Enceladus. So she spent her work hours gliding through the corridors, breathing in the colours, the scents and the sounds. She’d been given a copy of the standard 3D model that had been created prior to the construction of the ship, and she built upon it step by step, layering on all the details that VR needed to feel alive: the click of magnetic boots; the scent of lavender and mint that always followed the cleaning bots; the tugging in her stomach when the ship changed directions; the sensation of lightness and wonder when the rockets stopped firing and the ship was coasting again.

It really was an incredible experience. Every day was so new, so fascinating. Sunati soaked up the joy of simply existing in microgravity.  

After the first week, she found that it was more convenient to keep her hair tied back. While it was gloriously strange to see a lock of hair drift gently into view, it was also incredibly distracting. And Sunati needed to focus on her work. (Keeping a clean field of view didn’t hurt either.)

So she tied her hair up in a pony tail for a few days, then switched to a buns-and-twintails combination that made her feel like a space princess. Sometimes she braided her hair into a long, thick plait, on other days she’d twist it up into a series of complicated rings, or pull it into a loose, delicate bun. She even considered asking Kiral (the man with the jingling braids) if he’d teach her how to do her hair like his, but decided it wasn’t worth troubling him. When he left, a few days later, on a shuttle heading to the asteroid belt, she regretted her hesitation.  

She only realized it that night, as she strapped herself into the sleeping bag and sent Austen a request for a tutorial on tiny braids. The feeling had crept up on her so quietly that it had taken her days, weeks, to recognise it for what it was. But it was there, and it felt true – she was bored with her look.

She pondered the feeling, let it sift through her thoughts like sand between her fingers. Surely she wasn’t really bored. It hadn’t even been two months, and she’d kept the same look for much longer than this before. She couldn’t be bored already, could she?

Sunati dimmed the lights, frowning.

It was, she decided, because of the weight of the months yet to come. She had a year more like this. A whole year without being able to change her look. She could cut her hair, perhaps, but once she did there was nothing more she could do. And this fact, this unchangeable certainty, had curled up and settled deep inside her, a little bit strange, a little bit cold, like an itch just out of reach. As time passed it would grow even more insistent.

She sent a message to Rae, knowing she’d get sympathy and practical advice in return.

And then she sent another message to Austen, knowing that while Austen might attempt sympathy, she’d probably find the whole situation hilarious.

When Sunati woke up the next morning she had two lists of hairstyles to try out, a few minutes of sympathy and snark from Rae, and a recording of Austen’s laughter, bright and clear as sunshine.

3 – Enceladus

Sunati made two wonderful discoveries shortly after arriving on Enceladus.

The first discovery (and perhaps the most delightful) was that the diversional therapy dogs on Enceladus were the sweetest creatures she’d ever met. She was greeted on arrival by a red and white corgi, who immediately clambered into her arms and licked her face. She buried her face in its fur, and then, quite unable to help herself, burst into tears.

She wasn’t sure if it was the exhilaration of finally being on Enceladus, or the finality of actually having arrived. But she was standing on a moon orbiting around Saturn, and it was a dream come true, and it was indescribably terrifying, and the tears simply wouldn’t stop.

(She later learned that most new arrivals reacted in much this way.)

Sunati’s second discovery was that many of the people living on Enceladus had undercuts, or side cuts, with patterns shaved into the buzz. Though she only noticed a few at first: Liria, Sunati’s supervisor, had a series of diamonds spiralling out above the nape of her neck; Eron, Sunati’s assigned dorm buddy, had a lotus blooming just above their left ear.

The shaved patterns were gorgeous, and captivating, and Sunati thought that maybe she’d like to get something similar. But she wasn’t sure what design she wanted, and she certainly didn’t have time to think about it. There was so very much to do.

Sunati’s job on Enceladus was much the same as on the ship - layering life and details over the basic 3D model, overlaying a sensory experience that felt as real as she could manage. She added the chill of the outer walls, the shifting of the ocean below, the constant chatter of life, and the slight tug of Enceladus’ gravity. She was very careful to timestamp everything. This was to be a highly detailed model, something that would allow sponsors to fully experience the growing colony. They would want to see how the base changed over time.

It was a staggeringly large job and Sunati allowed herself very little relaxation in her first few weeks.

(And if she still, on occasion, cried herself to sleep, well she was far too busy for that.)

But after a while - after she’d settled in - after the task in front of her started to feel known and possible and achievable - she took some time off for herself. She wrapped herself up in layers of protective gear and dove beneath the surface, recording the entire experience for her parents. She spent evenings with Eron and some of their friends, picnicking in the greenhouse and playing with the dogs. And on one impossibly glorious weekend she joined a large group who went out camping on top of the ice. She spent the night out there, surrounded by friends, with nothing but Saturn and the stars hovering impossibly real above her.  

She realised, during this time, just how many people had cut patterns into their hair. She saw spirals that shifted into radiating lines, patterns of hearts and stars, the fuzz stained with ink and bleach. She’d only interacted with a few of the colonists before this, but now she was part of a crowd, a community, and she had no obligation to carefully archive the world around her. Right now, Sunati could truly see the people she lived with.

And the relief that flooded through her was almost overwhelming.

It wasn’t just her.

It wasn’t just her.

It was such a relief to know, to understand so clearly, that she wasn’t the only person to feel frustrated with her mods. She’d been feeling strangely, absurdly guilty about this. It was selfish that she felt trapped inside her own skin when Austen had to live her whole life like this (no matter that Austen had laughed, then told her that she shouldn’t expect to feel any different.)

But it wasn’t just her.

And the people here had found a way to work around it, a way to irrevocably change their hair every few weeks, a way to live in the way they were used to.

When Sunati returned to the base, she asked Eron to recommend a stylist, and then she went to get her hair cut.

She returned to the dorm with her hair hanging loose around her head, still long and straight, almost floating in the low gravity of Enceladus. A layer of scales had been shaved just above the nape of her neck, and every time her hair shifted the pattern peeked through.

(She sent Austen more ridiculous mermaid photos.)

(It was an appropriate thing to do on an ocean moon, wasn’t it?)

4 – Return

Sunati had known that her undercut, as small as it was, would grow out very strangely on the journey back to earth. This knowledge didn’t make it any less weird. It was just a few centimetres of unevenly growing fuzz, and she couldn’t help but reach back and tug on the uneven strands, wondering how long it would take to feel normal again.  

She did her best to ignore it.

She buried herself in her work. There were so many bugs to fix, so many details that she’d made a note of but hadn’t yet figured out. She needed to add in NPC guides to answer any questions that viewers might have, and she needed to carefully document everything for the people who’d pick up this project after her.

There were plenty of things she could do to keep herself occupied.

She was lonelier than she’d ever been before.

Sunati missed Earth. She missed Enceladus. She missed everyone.

She was terribly, overwhelmingly heartbroken, lost now that the adventure was over, wishing desperately that it could continue, wanting more than anything else to see her family again, to stand on the surface of the Earth without a wall, or a roof, or a spacesuit between her and the elements. She was so, so close. She was a whole month away. She’d probably never get to go to Enceladus again.

It was devastating, and so she tried not to think about it.

Day by day her model of the Enceladus base took shape. Step by careful step it took on a life of its own and became something that she could be proud of.

Day by day she got closer to Earth. The lag when calling home got shorter and shorter. Her heart felt lighter and a warmth blossomed inside her, washing away the confusion.

She was so glad she’d done this.

She was so glad to be going home.

A few days before the scheduled shuttle docking at the Starclimber, she ran her hand across the back of her neck, fiddling with the strands, unable to ditch the habit. It was slightly longer now, less like fuzz and more like actual hair. It felt almost the way it had been when she’d last had her hair in a bob cut.

Sunati remembered, suddenly, vividly, the day she’d woken up to Austen’s surprise pixie cut. She remembered the joy in Austen’s eyes, the brightness of her smile, the way she’d spoken so confidently about how light she now felt, how freeing it had been to cut all that hair and hold the weight of it in her hands. It had been incredible, she’d said, to finally release that weight.

Sunati knew that if she cut her hair in microgravity she wouldn’t feel lighter at all.  

But she cut her hair anyway, just a bit above her chin, and watched it bob gently in the mirror. The strands floated around her, suspended in space, equal parts eerie and wonderful. It was thrilling, after all these months, to have short hair again.

Sunati gathered up the locks and held them in her hands.

She felt closer to Austen than she had in months.

She wrapped a few strands up and slipped them into a bag, then she vacuumed the rest and watched her hair slide away.

It would only be a few more days.

She was going home.