Ask Outversers what they miss most about their old stomping grounds in the home universe.
A lot of them are going to wring their hands and whine about loved ones they left behind. Some lament the lack of literature, music, and entertainment holovids, once so abundant but now in grievously short supply. Others complain that they can’t get the kinds of food they used to enjoy.
None of that really matters to me.
I miss a familiar set of zodiac signs based on easily identifiable constellations that can be found in the night sky.
Telling fortunes based on the signs of the zodiac kept me fed, clothed, and suitably happy for the better part of a decade before the Kamir rift crisis threatened to tear reality apart. I left behind my modest house on Valsho Peak overlooking the churning surf of Timon’s Bay and joined the flood of refugees making their way to the multiverse gateway near Nocturn.
Now I’m in a hovel in the tradeport aboard Comorro Station, washing laundry for whatever Hekayti credits my customers can spare.
I won’t settle for this, though.
In my spare time, I sit in the docking hub and gaze out at the stars.
I’m giving them names. I’m building their legends. Soon, I’ll add the nuances of their omens and portents.
I’ll build a new zodiac.
