I can’t entirely agree, but I don’t say that out loud. I can tell by his manner he thinks this is concluded now and leaves for the bridge. I sit down at his desk and open his personal messages. I see that there are a lot from the government. I mark those all for him and don’t read them.

Then I open one from a female, which isn’t odd, but what she writes is unusual. I’m blocked from changing it to ‘unopened,’ so I continue reading the entire message. There’s no question that this is a past lover of his, and it looks as if her husband has died. She’s not asking for anything that I can see, so why would she message my Commander? I read through her message a few times. Her husband died recently, but she mentions that my Commander would have known about it, I’m assuming because he was also a well-known man in Silver society. Then she writes, ‘I still remember our time together.’ I try not to be jealous, but my mind is in overdrive, thinking about all the wonderful places and stunning people on the Home Planet. And that this Silver female he had a relationship with is someone I would never be able to be. First, because obviously, I’ll never be a Silver. Second, because I wasn’t born into wealth or power, I was so poor and weak; my own people traded me because I had no one to prevent it and then sent me to volunteer on a farm slash brothel. And lastly, there’s only so much I can learn and adapt to Silver culture; ultimately, I’ll always see this world through human eyes, which is different, and what Silver husband would ever appreciate that?

I close the message and mark it for the Commander. I then open my own messages in my GC account, and I only have receipts of my salary from the Commander. His name isn’t even on the automated messages. I wonder if I’ll ever have a male who messages me with something as romantic as, ‘remember the time when we were together?’ I want to be realistic with myself, and I must say, ‘No, that’s never going to happen for me. Not in this lifetime. Not like this.’ I allow myself ten minutes to wallow in self-pity, then I close my messages and open my Commander’s again. I go about my daily task of sending a few messages of condolences or congratulations and then get on to the laundry.

“Do you have time for tea?” my friend asks as she sticks her head in the laundry room.

I smile. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

“You were all over the Home Planet’s news this morning,” she says as I sit down at a table in the servants’ canteen. She hardly stops to draw a breath. “The Commander bought a necklace that supposedly belonged to you from the farmers.”

“It was very kind of him,” I reply.