Posted By orchard on February 26, 2009

While this story is much shorter than some of my other stories, I do like it. It illustrates a number of things, but mostly that sometimes we make decisions without even considering that we don’t have all the relevant information, let alone what that information is. Of course, when you are just trying to get by, sometimes it is difficult to see past that. Then again, I can’t put too much description of the story here, or this will be longer than the actual story. Don’t blink, or you’ll miss the irony. Also, yes I am aware that this may or may not be an actual demonstration of irony as the reader understands it. Oh well.  This story was originally written in summer of 1999.

For the planet Balochian there is only one word: cold. Not just the weather, but everything there is frigid, especially the people. Don’t expect any help from them! How do I know this? I am stuck here, and I have been here for a very long time, centuries it feels like. The eternal ice has infected the people, the government, and everything. Nothing here cares about anything. How do you explain that you want to leave to officials that don’t care? How do you bribe an officer whose only concern is the system?How do you start a conversation with these people? You cannot. So I am stuck here, in hell. Yes, that’s right, Hell. Anyone who thinks hell is hot only needs to visit me here, and they will know the difference. Hell is cold, and if a mortal can visit there while living it is this planet. Actually, I am beginning to think that hell would be a better place than this planet.
How did I get here? Good question, and I ask myself that same thing every day. The answer is simple, but requires explanation so that you don’t think I am crazy. You see, I chose to come here. I knew it! You think I’m crazy now. Well, you might be right, but please let me explain!
It started four years ago, on the pleasant world of Xys, where I had the privilege to be raised. It is a wonderful place, Xys. For the most part it is lush and green, with generally mild seasons and a long growing season. As a result it is given to two points of commerce: farming and tourism.
Being a young man there is not difficult—one can always find work either on the farms, as a tour guide, or in one the hundreds of stores that cater to the needs and wants of the infinite stream of tourists. I chose guide others across the open terrain, showing them how to ‘survive’ by eating the lush fruits and avoiding the very few dangerous animals left on Xys.
It was a fun life, and I enjoyed it too much, but that all changed the day that a wealthy gentleman came and paid me to escort him and his family for a four month excursion. The trip was good, and I was handsomely paid. I don’t know why, for I am not normally given to boasting, but on this occasion I found myself claiming to be able to survive in any climate.
From here, one might think my destiny was certain, but it is not that simple. You see, we made a deal; if I could survive for three years apiece on any four planets that he named, he would give me enough money to live like a king for the rest of my life.
Thus I am here on Balochian, freezing to death. I have been here for three and a half years, and I can’t leave. No, the deal is over you see, as what no one told me is that one cannot leave this planet until they have been here for twelve years.
Last week was the capstone of my misery, however, when I received word that my rich benefactor was killed in riots on Verial 5. So I will never leave this icy grave, and that’s all right because I will die tonight, and end my own misery.

[Editor’s Note: Martin Gusirian, erstwhile tour guide and gambler died at age twenty. One week later, the planet Balochian was ordered to allow free passage to all persons on the planet. Two weeks later, Richard von Armol was found, having been missing four weeks after the terrible riots on Verial 5, and presumed dead. Mr. Gusirian was found to have died from self-inflicted wounds.]

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