By Su J Sokol
For the thirteenth time that day, the Tevat Noah community was poised between noon and sunset. Ariel watched the sun spiral to its hiding place behind the Earth, casting long, kaleidoscopic shadows on the pathways of the ring-shaped space station.
As the shadows lengthened, Ariel’s anxiety grew. The rules had been made clear to the entire B’nai Mitzvah class. At the thirteenth sunset, you enter the sacred Hall of Mitzvah with the student chosen as your partner for the Trials. But where was Ariel’s partner? If they entered the Hall late, they might fail, putting themselves and their community at risk.
Heart pounding, Ariel glanced at the huge, gourd-shaped Hall of Mitzvah, then up the empty path. Numerical precision was critical on a space station. Numbers were also important to the Tevat Noah comm for what they signified. Eighteen spelled life in the Jewish alpha-numeric code, which is why there were eighteen eighty-minute periods in a day. And thirteen were the attributes of the Infinite, and the age at which a child took on adult responsibilities. The idea of entering the Hall past the thirteenth sunset made Ariel’s stomach clench.
On the other hand, entering the Hall alone was unthinkable. The B’nai Mitzvah ceremony was nothing if not a rededication to the community. Even the Infinite One needed community—cracking the world to create multiplicity, diversity, and change—rather than continuing alone.
On the other, other hand, Ariel thought, nervousness transforming to anger, why hadn’t the selfish egoist bothered to show up on time? Stepping to the doorway of the Mitzvah Hall, Ariel reached for the decorated handles and … hesitated. Wait. Think. This is what Ariel’s teachers were always telling xir. You’re too impatient, jumping ahead of the others!
Ariel let xir hand drop, wishing Liron were here. They’d been best friends since they were five and slept beside one another in the Children’s House. Like Ariel, Liron would crawl on hands and knees rather than let down a member of the community. Unlike David, who—
David! Of course! It would be just like xir to arrive late, as though Tevat Noah should slow its circuit around Earth like xe was the “Baal Shem Tov.”
And then there David was, strolling down the path, as though solving this puzzle had caused xir to materialize.
“You waited?” David asked, looking both surprised and guilty. Did xe think Ariel would really leave xir? Ariel had a moment of sympathy for David, who had failed to complete the Trials last year and whose comrades had advanced without xir. It must be hard to be so alienated from xir group. “What, doors too heavy for you?” David added, a smirk replacing the guilty look.
Ariel’s sympathy evaporated. David laughed and pulled open the double doors xirself. In the entryway, they simultaneously pressed their palms against the sensors to register their presence—just as the sun’s light contracted into a thin blue line and disappeared from the sky.
Inside the Hall, Ariel and David momentarily forgot their antagonism to stare awestruck at their surroundings. The Hall of Mitzvah, located on the outermost ring of Tevat Noah, was built directly into the gigantic cone-like artificial mountain residents called “Har Zion.” This made it difficult to judge the building’s depth from the walking path. Ariel was amazed at how enormous the Hall was, its rounded walls improbably distant. Within these walls circled a spiral walkway that rose up into the darkness like an infinite Jacob’s ladder to heaven.
“Hyper,” David whispered.
“Haven’t you been here before?” Ariel said accusingly.
“No. I mean, I got as far as the door and ….” Xe shrugged as though it were obvious. “My parents said I was lucky. If I’d gone inside, I never would have been allowed to do it over. To me, lucky would be not having to go through this shit at all.”
“It’s not shit! Don’t you want to learn how you can best serve the community?”
“We all know where I’m gonna end up. Watching for space debris, or cleaning the sanitary booths, or if I’m really lucky, operating one of the 3-D fabbers.”
“The 3-D fabricators are pretty cool,” Ariel said.
“I’ve helped out there. Trust me, it gets old.”
“But you’re really good with machines, David,” Ariel said, baffled at David’s attitude. “Not everyone is. Don’t you think people should do the work they’re good at?”
“Instead of what they want to do?” David countered.
“People can try jobs even where they don’t score high on the aptitudes. I mean, it’s not easy to get a placement, but you can do anything if you work hard enough!”
David snorted.
“Come on,” Ariel said. “The entrance to the Trials is over there.”
David walked in the opposite direction, towards the left of the spiral.
“That’s the end, not the beginning,” Ariel said.
“How do you know? It looks exactly the same.” Indeed, the two exit/entry points were like twin ends of an enormous, ladder-like double helix.
“Everything in our comm goes from right to left,” Ariel replied patiently, “Just like Hebrew writing. I mean, if you want to start on the left, why not fly to the top and work your way down while you’re at it.”
“Good idea,” David said.
Ariel, torn between frustration at David’s antics and curiosity at what xe would do next, watched David examine the rising walkways, eyes pausing at a landing where they crossed, the left-hand spiral passing just inside the other. The landing was surrounded by a safety barrier of horizontal bars decorated with dots and curves and circles, which Ariel recognized as the musical tropes for reading the Ancient Texts. David jumped up to reach for the bottom bar, missing by a good quarter metre.
Ariel rolled xir eyes. David backed up and, giving Ariel a quick glance, ran full speed to fling xirself into the air. Xe managed to grab and hang on to the bottommost bar.
“Impressive,” Ariel said. “Now come down before you get us both in trouble.”
David ignored Ariel and tried to climb higher up.
“Seriously,” Ariel said. “You could get hurt. There could be an electrical charge up there. Or a gravity trap.”
“I’m not afraid,” David said, trying to hook one of xir legs around a bar.
“Stop! I mean it, David, or I’ll—”
“You’ll what? Kiss my tachat?”
Taking a running start, Ariel launched xirself into the air, grabbing David around the waist. David’s grip slipped, and the two of them fell in a heap.
“Are you okay?” Ariel asked.
“That’s the most fun I’ve had since starting B’nai Mitzvah training.”
Ariel pulled away. “Don’t get any ideas.”
“Why, don’t you like boys? Liron’s a boy.”
“The only thing you need to know about who I like is that you are not my type!”
“You’re hurting my feelings,” David said with xir usual smirk.
“Seriously, what’s the matter with you? Are you meshugana?”
“Don’t call me that word.”
“Why not, when you act so crazy!”
“I mean, don’t use that mongrel language on me. Use Hebrew or Russian, or English or Arabic, but Yiddish is the language of those who let themselves be killed and enslaved.”
“Let themselves!” Ariel exclaimed. “It was the fascists who did that, and then the imperialists with their electrified walls and refugee camps.”
“But if they’d accepted the deal, settled in Palestine—”
“But there was another community already living there! A space station comm was a much better idea.”
“But our real homeland is on earth,” David insisted.
“Earth is a mess! Climate crisis, plagues … Our ancestors’ decision saved the Jewish people by creating a fully independent homeland. Like the other comms who decided to build their own space stations.”
“Mazal Tov,” David said, applauding. “You’ve memorized all the myths and propaganda. You’re the perfect tachat-kisser.”
“Stop calling me that, you … you Earther-Zionist!”
“Great. Now that we both know who we are, can we get this over with?”
Ariel and David had been climbing for at least a quarter of a period before they finally reached the next level. As was proper, they simultaneously pressed their palms against the small sensors on either side of the threshold. Ariel felt a thrill of excitement as the portal dilated to admit them. The enclosed corridor was long and dark, making it seem more menacing than mysterious. The quiet felt eerie. In Tevat Noah, a person was rarely alone. Even in a private cubby, you couldn’t fully escape the chattering of voices, the clattering of tools, the chittering of insects, the hum of machinery—the omnipresent background noise of a functioning, active eco-system where every millimetre of space and matter was put to use.
Ariel took a hesitant step forward.
“Wait,” David said, a hand on Ariel’s arm. “Take a sip.” Xe offered Ariel a small flask.
Ariel leaned down and sniffed the contents suspiciously. “Is this allowed?”
“All the kids in my age group had some before their Trial.” When Ariel still hesitated, David added, “It helps you be in touch with the Infinite. But if you’re scared—”
Ariel grabbed the drink from David’s hands and gulped some down. It smelled like licorice but tasted smoky. “Strong!” Ariel said as warmth spread into xir legs. David took another sip and then offered it again. After a few more back-and-forths, the small flask was empty.
“Now there’s no turning back,” David said, and the two giggled together nervously.
They walked in total darkness. Distance was difficult to judge, and with it, time itself seemed to compress and stretch. Finally, vaguely luminous objects began to appear in the distance. The shapes morphed and transposed themselves as Ariel, feeling lightheaded, plodded forward with David beside xir. They stopped. The Trial exhibits were before them.
Ariel and David began exploring. They passed a life-sized sculpture of an adult cradling a newborn. Ariel hoped to help produce healthy children for the comm someday but had no desire to work in a children’s house, and xir teachers would surely agree that xe did not have the patience. David also didn’t seem like the nurturing type. Ariel fleetingly thought that maybe the two of them were not total opposites after all.
Ariel paused briefly to examine an exhibit consisting of a basket of legumes—probably to represent farming. Ariel did not mind physical labour but had an aversion to insects, whether organic or genetically modified. Xe noticed that David looked at this exhibit with something like hostility but paused thoughtfully at the next one—a spaceship in flight—before shrugging and following Ariel down the corridor.
Ariel had hoped to pass through all the exhibits before deciding which Trials to take. This now seemed unrealistic based on the sheer number of exhibits that dotted the long, upward-curving corridor. To return without earning a ‘key’ would be a shanda—a great shame—and Ariel’s goal was to obtain not just one but two keys before reaching the top. To have any chance of this, they’d have to move faster.
David seemed to feel the same sense of urgency. They accelerated past exhibits that, though vital to the life of the comm, were not of great interest to either of them. Impatient to begin a Trial, Ariel paused at a holo of the human body that revealed alternating systems—skeletal, muscular, neural, cellular. Ariel had some interest in human health sciences and was proud that Tevat Noah had teamed up with the Lebanese comm to find a cure to Earth’s most recent pandemic. Ariel’s grandparent, Chaya, was a physician and would be pleased if Ariel followed in xir footsteps.
Ariel began a series of immersive simulations that tested knowledge of human physiology, but couldn’t keep xir mind from wandering. What interested Ariel were the ethical issues, like the importance of not confusing difference with illness. Ariel xirself—two metres tall and with bones that were less dense than those of typical humans—did well on low-g comms like Tevat Noah, but might be regarded as having a disability on Earth. Ariel knew that difference could be a strength. Even a genetic predisposition to cancer was found to be linked to positive survival traits by an Earther comm composed of Afro-futurist scientists.
Ariel was good at tests, so not surprised when, at the end of the Trial, xe’d earned a key. Ariel felt a little guilty since xe wasn’t that interested in health sciences. Recalling what David had said about doing what you want rather than what you’re good at, Ariel wondered if there might be a way to measure someone’s passion instead of their talent at passing tests. Nevertheless, Ariel was happy since xe hoped to someday visit Earth, and the health sciences key practically guaranteed a visa.
Meanwhile, David was settled in front of a complex structure of circuits and gears. Xe was smiling slightly, shoulders relaxed instead of hunched up and tense like they usually were. Ariel had not seen David look so peaceful since xe was a little kid playing with construction toys in their sector’s Children’s House.
Ariel continued down the corridor, resolved to ignore all exhibits that did not strongly interest xir. Finally, ahead was something that drew Ariel: the image of a mysterious-looking ancient book! Ariel loved books and learning and had thought about becoming a teacher like two of xir three parents, or even a great rabbi like xir oldest parent’s sibling.
Stopping at the exhibit, Ariel entered the holo-field to begin the Trial. The book immediately seemed to come alive, its form sharper and more realistic. Ariel was surrounded by the smell of old parchment; the book’s worn binding and rounded corners made xir long to touch it, to gently flip through the pages. What kind of book was it? What was Ariel supposed to do? No flat or touch-text appeared on the screen, no sound text either, but Ariel’s instincts said xe needed to find a way to open the book, to show xir desire for learning.
Ariel reached for the cover, wondering if David had managed to finish the Trial yet. This made Ariel remember their argument about going left to right instead of right to left. Ariel had been about to try to open the book with its spine facing to the right, but what if this were wrong? A mistake like this might cost Ariel the key. Though the symbols on the book’s cover were vague and hard to decipher, Ariel decided they were almost certainly not Hebrew, Yiddish, or Arabic, or even Aramaic.
Biting xir lower lip, Ariel reached for the book again. And stopped. An idea came to xir that the book contained secret knowledge and shouldn’t be opened. Maybe it was Ariel’s restraint that was being tested. But Ariel rebelled against the idea of a secret book. Xe realized with a jolt of surprise that, for knowledge’s sake, xe was perfectly willing to break rules.
Gathering courage, Ariel gently slipped one hand beneath the book while placing the other one on top. Xe then carefully maneuvered the holo to balance on its spine. Using xir thumbs, Ariel parted the book precisely, showing no preference for right or left. The book opened easily, and between the pages sat a glimmering key. Ariel reached for it, slipping it into xir virtual Mitzvah bag. Xe let out a deep breath, amazed at how quick this Trial had been.
David, meanwhile, had finished xir own Trial.
“I got a key!” David exclaimed, then shrugged as though xe didn’t care.
“Me too,” Ariel answered, feeling reluctant to admit that xe’d earned a second as well, and in the time it took David to earn one. “We’d better go up. It’s getting late.”
The spiral pathway steepened as they climbed, though Ariel’s body grew lighter. That, along with the sense that they didn’t have much time left, filled Ariel with the urge to run.
“C’mon!” Ariel said.
With David’s shorter legs and stride, Ariel was afraid xe’d slow them down and was impressed when David kept up without trouble. In fact, after what seemed like a full klick of running up an ever-steepening path, it was Ariel who began to tire.
“Do you think it’s much farther?” Ariel panted.
“It could be, if they mean for us to go all the way to the top …” David began, before stopping short before a brightly lit portal. “An elevator train!”
They pressed their palms against the two sides of the recessed door. It opened to admit them, then snicked shut.
“Is there a choice of levels?” Ariel wondered, running hands along the walls.
Before David could respond, the elevator shot up. After a moment, the weight of their bodies peeled off of them, and all at once, they were floating.
“Hyper! This is fun!” Ariel said, but then noticed David’s face, too pale in the garish lighting. “Relax and try to remember your weightlessness training,” Ariel suggested.
Just as David seemed to get used to the zero-g, the elevator car jerked in a horizontal direction and began to spin and flip. Ariel resisted the urge to cry out, grabbing David’s shoulder instead. By the time they began moving smoothly again, Ariel had lost all sense of direction. Several long minutes later, Ariel and David found themselves pulled to the ceiling. No, the floor, Ariel realized, as xir orientation somersaulted. They continued descending—or ascending upside down. Ariel’s body grew heavier. After a few moments, xe slid to the ground.
“You okay?” David asked.
“Just a little … tired. Doesn’t the high gravity bother you?” Ariel asked.
“No,” David said. “I’ve been working out in the high-g gym for two years.”
“Wow. I guess that’s why you can jump so high and run so fast.”
David shrugged again but seemed pleased by the compliment.
The elevator door finally opened, and they stumbled into a well-lit chamber with three exhibits. Each was fronted by a touch panel and two large, decorated handles. The instructions were simple: choose an exhibit, place your virtual key on the reader, grasp both handles firmly, and, if your choice is accepted, lock it in with an iris scan.
Ariel was immediately drawn to the Exhibit of Tevat Noah. It was beautiful, each ring placed in perfect relation to the others, the streets laid out in all their detail. Ariel longed to peer inside and see if xe could find xir home sector, but knew this was a childish impulse.
The next model, representing the Confederation of Comms, showed the myriad of space stations that orbited around Earth, plus the moon and satellites that also joined in this complex dance. Ariel loved xir comm, but the other comms were beautiful too. Ariel considered the delicate web of cooperation needed to ensure everyone’s well-being and protect the rights and cultures of each space station comm. Not for the first time, Ariel thought about working for the Confederation, maybe as a specialist in inter-comm law or even diplomacy. Xe hoped the “book” key might open such doors.
Then there was Earth. Compared to the others, the Exhibit was outsized. It drew Ariel to it with a primal force. Earth, the original homeland, was the womb from which Terran life had sprung, where their seeds had been planted and had grown. It was holy and irreplaceable.
Ariel turned to David, still standing in the centre of the room.
“You go first,” Ariel said. “You’re older.”
David shrugged. “It’s not like I have real choices.”
“The Confederation might accept you as a mech.”
“I’m not interested. I’d rather do something for my own people.”
“So stay here. Systems maintenance, maybe. That’s an important job.”
“For such a smart person, you can be pretty stupid, Ariel.”
Ariel bit back a sharp reply and thought about it instead.
“Oh,” xe said, looking at David. “You really do want to be an Earther, don’t you?”
“Tachat-kisser wins another key!” Xe smirked, but beneath that smirk, Ariel could see David’s deep unhappiness.
“Why don’t you try for it? Maybe your key will work.”
“Yeah, right,” David said. “They’d never let a trained mech go to Earth. Maybe a doctor. Or a farmer,” xe said with distaste. “But not me. The space comms don’t trust Earthers with our tech.”
“Can you blame them with all the wars and terrorism down there? The racism and genderism, and all the other phobias and prejudices?”
“They have a hard life. You’re descended from the original comm settlers, but my family is only third generation. I’ve heard stories from my savta about how the emigrants took everything—money, education, collective research. And what did we leave Earthers? Drought and famine, extinct animals, and destroyed forests. We stole from them, then left them behind.”
“Even if that’s true, it doesn’t mean we can trust them.”
“Let me ask you something, Ariel. Do you think our people are better than Earthers?”
“I don’t know. The comm’s always taken good care of me. But no, I guess not. It’s not logical to think that people from one community are better or worse than people from another.”
“Then I shouldn’t be prevented from going down there and helping them.”
Ariel thought about that. “I don’t know,” xe finally said. “But I do know that the important thing is to do what you think is right. So you should at least try.”
“Fine,” David said. Xe placed xir hard-won key onto the screen, grasped the two handles, and squeezed. The screen display lit up, first yellow to indicate that the key and David’s hands had registered … then red, to indicate the decision. David scowled and squeezed harder, refusing to let go. An ugly buzzer sounded to confirm the negative decision. David’s face fell. Ariel was filled with righteous anger.
“That’s not fair!” Ariel cried.
“Grow up. Life isn’t fair.”
“But isn’t that what this is all about? Making things better, fairer? We’re the next generation. Our duty is to heal the world, to do tikkun olam.”
“We’re just kids. They talk about us joining the adult community when we become B’nai Mitzvah, but they don’t really mean it. There’s nothing we can do.”
“Maybe there is,” Ariel said. Xe opened xir hand and pushed the virtual image of a key toward David. “Take this. It’s a key for Health Sciences.”
“You can’t give me your key!”
“I earned two keys. There’s another one in my Mitzvah bag,” Ariel replied.
“Oh! But I mean … Won’t your keys be linked to your ID?”
“You tell me, you understand tech better than I do, but I never put this key in my Mitzvah bag. I’ve been holding it in a temp folder because … I don’t deserve it. Maybe since it’s unclaimed—”
“Ariel, are you sure about this?”
“Yes,” xe said firmly.
Ariel placed the key on the screen, nodding to David that it was xir turn. David once again grabbed the handles. Squeezed. Nothing happened.
David sighed. “It’s probably linked to your right handprint even if you didn’t register it in your Mitzvah bag.”
“Let’s try something else,” Ariel said.
Ariel walked to David and stood beside xir in front of the exhibit. Then xe grasped the right handle with xir right hand, indicating to David that xe should grasp the left one. Still nothing.
“What if we grab the handles at the same time?” David said. “Like at the entryways.”
Ariel put an arm around David’s shoulder. David, surprised, reached up to do the same to Ariel, and then, on a count of achat, shtayim, shalosh, they grabbed the handles simultaneously with their free hands and squeezed. The screen turned yellow … then green!
“Yes!” David exclaimed.
“Lock it in!” Ariel yelled as the green light on the screen began to blink ominously.
David placed xir face against the screen for the iris scan. After a few moments, a phrase appeared on the screen:
“MAZAL TOV, DAVID!” it said. “YOU ARE A B’NAI MITZVAH.”
David, face smooth with pleasure, turned to Ariel. “Thank you,” xe said, “Hey, you’d better hurry. Our time’s almost up. Will you choose Tevat Noah? The Confederation? Or maybe you could come to Earth too,” xe added, a little shyly.
Ariel smiled, uncertain. Before beginning the Trials, Ariel had thought that, if xe felt bold, xe’d choose to live at one of the multi-cultural comms and work for the Confederation. If not, Ariel would be content to serve Tevat Noah. But now Ariel considered Earth, with its mountains and oceans and crazily complex cities, but most of all, with its people—struggling to do what they could to repair the world, just like everyone else.
The heavy-g in the room seemed to emphasize the gravity of Ariel’s decision, making xir shoulders slump and head bow. How could Ariel choose one community and exclude another? No. Xe would not—could not—do such a thing. There had to be another way, a way of pledging xirself to serve all communities.
Ariel looked at the three sets of carved door handles, reminding xir of the door handles at the entrance to the Hall of Mitzvah, where xe almost made the mistake of going inside without David. It was odd just how alike the handles were, and it made Ariel have another odd thought: If the Hall of Mitzvah itself were an exhibit, what would it represent? To Ariel, the building had seemed gourd-shaped, but with the handles, Ariel imagined instead a vase, the surface striations like cracks … like the cracked vessel of Jewish mysticism that represents the entire world, whose flaws can only be repaired by acts of social justice.
“I need to get back outside,” Ariel said, quickly filling David in on what xe intended. “But I’m not sure I’ll make it. We’re so far from where we started.”
“Actually, I think we’re just below where we started. If we were on top, it’d be low or zero g; the only places this heavy are in the lower levels, where the high-g gyms are.”
“But this building is holy. Maybe they can create high-g forces at the top.”
“Holy or not, the world has to follow the laws of science, which means heavy at the surface where the ring spins, and low-g above. Trust me! If you go out the emergency exit instead of the elevator, maybe you can make it.”
“You know what, David? You’re brilliant. Yashar koach.”
The stairwell was hot and stuffy. Sweat began to soak Ariel’s shirt as xe climbed in the heavy-g, but Ariel was determined, and after a time, the gravity lessened. At the top of the stairwell, a door led outside. At first, Ariel was disoriented, but then realized where xe was—the side entrance to the Hall of Mitzvah. And the next daybreak was about to rise! Ariel bolted for the front of the building, a feeling of déjà vu as xe once again raced the sun. At the front of the building, the door handles were just as Ariel had remembered them. But there was no reader, nowhere to place a key, so Ariel simply yanked the doors open and burst into the room.
For a moment, Ariel had a feeling of wrongness, entering the Hall of Mitzvah alone, but then realized someone else was there. In the centre of the room, a big bear of a person wearing a richly embroidered prayer shawl turned at Ariel’s approach.
“Xixi Moti!” Ariel cried out in surprise. “I mean, Rabbi.”
“Xixi is fine. No need to stand on ceremony after the kind of Trial you had.”
“You … you saw it?” Ariel asked, head bowed. “I failed, didn’t I? I broke the rules. And now there’s nowhere to put my key.”
“Key, shmey. Listen to me, dear child of my sibling. The key is a symbol, and while symbols have their uses, in the end, they’re just symbols. The important thing is this: You challenged your own assumptions about how the world works; you helped another person and made a new friend; you thought creatively and put into action what you believed was right. That’s more than enough for one B’nai Mitzvah.”
“So I passed? And David?”
“All is well. David and your friends and family are waiting for you in the Reception Hall. I’m here to take you there. But first, your B’nai Mitzvah gift.”
Xixi Moti held up a narrow cylinder, about a quarter of a metre long, that came to a point on one end. It was decorated with letters and numbers of gold and blue.
“What is it?” Ariel asked, reaching for it.
“A scholar’s tool. It’s an ancient stylus of sorts,” Xixi Moti said. “In other words … a pen. Yashar Koach, Ariel. Today you are a B’nai Mitzvah.”
“A pen,” Ariel said reverently and held it up to the light.
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