[The blur of city conversations and bustling cars reaches you as a pleasant hum. A pleasurable breeze dances across your skin, comforting in the warmth of summer.
How did you get here? You don't really know. One moment, you were coming off work, and the next, she texted, offering to talk while she was in the area.
Echoes of cars pass distantly. Traffic lights twinkle in the distance. It's a nice part of town, this place: not urban enough to be in the center of nightlife, but not rural enough to be surrounded by quiet forest.
How much time has passed? Before you can care about the answer, the bench creaks with another's weight. You know it's her, but you refuse to turn your eyes away from the city.
A warm lamplight illuminates the space around you. You're reminded, briefly, of stars: the kinds that children make wishes on with the sweetest and softest of dreams.
It's a nice thought for a conversation like this.]
…Hey.
Hi.
How have you been? How's work?
Good. I've been good. Work's busy, but it's alright.
That's good. I'm glad to hear it.
Thank you.
[...]
[...]
So… why did you text?
I wanted to talk.
I mean, yeah, I figured. But why? It can't be just to catch up.
Why not?
Look, don't kid yourself. We both know we don't really do this anymore.
What? Talk? We're friends. Aren't we?
Well, we are, but it's not like before. It's different.
Different?
We're different now. It's just what time does.
I guess so. But I don't know why.
What do you mean?
Why we're different. Why we don't talk anymore.
We grew up different, and you know that. It was a long time coming. The effects are just starting to show.
Grew up different? We grew up together. That's why we became friends.
Yeah, but I grew up recursively. Each step in my growth comes from a culmination of earlier, and usually simpler, steps.
My particles– that is, my protons, electrons, and neutrons– all comprise to make atoms. Atoms with different numbers of protons in its nucleus have distinct properties from other atoms with differing proton amounts. These distinct atoms are called elements.
Not so dissimilar to me.
Excuse me?
All my planets are the same way. They're made of particles, then atoms, then elements. And we grew up together for a reason. My planets are made of elements, just like you: whether it be silicates like iron and basalt or elements like hydrogen, helium, and sulfur. What makes up my planets also makes up you.
Sure. That's true. We both have elements, and we both have substances: a combination of 2 or more elements. The smallest unit of a substance that still behaves with the property of a substance is a molecule. Some molecules are super large– macromolecules. Along with other components, my cells are basically a big collection of macromolecules.
Right. Lipids, a kind of macromolecule, make up animal cells' cell membranes– the structure that keeps the cell's shape. And proteins are what make up your enzymes.
Yeah. I'm surprised you remember that.
Just because we don't talk doesn't mean I don't think about you.
[You decide you're not going to acknowledge that.]
When cells start to have a similar function, they group together to make tissue. When tissues have a similar function, they group together to make an organ. When organs have a similar function, they group together to make a system.
I always loved that story. You go from a single atom to a cell to a skeletal system to a human body, living and breathing.
Is that why you wanted to talk? For me to tell you a story? Because it's late, and I really have to go.
If you want to go, you can. I just wanted to show you why we aren't so different.
Excuse me?
Well, when organs have a similar function, you call it what?
A system.
And what am I?
Just because you're a solar system doesn't mean we're similar.
How so? I still group my planets.
I know. Terrestial and jovial.
You do remember!
Don't look at me like that. They're easy to remember.
Sure. So you agree, then, that we're not too different. My terrestrial planets– Mercury, Venus, Earth, and Mars– are all grouped that way because they have land. That's why they're also called the Earth-like planets. My jovial planets– Jupiter, Saturn, Neptune, and Uranus– are also called the gas giants, or the Jupiter-like planets, because they're primarily a cloud of Hydrogen and Helium gas with different cores. I'm a system with my own groupings. That's why we're similar.
[…]
I'm sorry. That was mean. I didn't–
–No, you meant it. It's okay. I'm not offended.
Still. I shouldn't have said it.
No. You're right. Maybe our lives are just too different now to really know each other.
[In the silence, a childhood memory slowly plays in your mind. With all the sweet ignorance of adolescence, the words tumble out of your mouth.]
You know, when we were first becoming friends… I really admired you.
Admired?
Yeah. Everything you did– everything you still do– had so much meaning. Like your orbits. And how perfectly spherical you made your planets. It's so…pristine. And I guess…I was jealous of you.
I'm sorry, did you say jealous?
If I'm being honest, I always have been. I'm not exactly the most perfect being.
I can't believe you were jealous, of all things. I mean, you know that's not my work, right?
Not your work? Last I checked, those are your planets. I don't remember the Earth being a cube.
[The laughter in her voice is twinged with something sadder.]
Well, yes, you're right. The planets are roughly spherical, and they do orbit the Sun. But it's not me that's the cause. I'm always dictated by gravity. These spherical, "perfect" planets were never my design. When planets begin forming, and they slowly build in size, they grow mass. When they get bigger and bigger, they develop their own gravitational field, pulling itself inward, morphing its own shape, which eventually makes them spherical. I have no control over what I create. That's just how they go.
So, wait, what about their orbits?
[She sighs.]
That's just gravity, too. The Sun's gravitational pull is so strong, it tries to pull my 8 planets into it. Because of inertia, though, the planets want to keep rotating. So, the Sun's pulling them inward, and each planet is spinning. Because the planets want to keep rotating, the Sun's gravitational field isn't strong enough to pull the planets directly towards itself, so the forces "compromise", and the planets orbit around the Sun. Not quite spinning on their own, not quite going towards the Sun. It's like the Sun's gravitational pull is failing to drag all the planets into it.
Huh.
Yeah. And that's why I was jealous of you.
You were jealous… of me?
Of course. You always…had the freedom to choose. You didn't have gravity controlling your structure, or your structure's functions.
What? You do know that Earth's gravity is, quite literally, weighing me down.
What I mean is that I never had a hand in shaping the planets. Gravity always determines how these bodies are shaped. But your cells can take on any structure by reading diverse instructions within your DNA. And their structure determines their function. With my planets, they'll always be spherical. They'll only ever orbit the Sun. But you have…everything. Your enzymes and substrates take their own shapes. Your cells could build your bones or transfer your thoughts as a neuron. You have your own diverse universe housed in your body.
Oh. Wow.
Yeah.
Well, I'm… glad you told me.
I'm glad you told me, too. It's good to be honest.
Did we ever really know each other?
Well, it's like you said. We always were different. Even from the start.
Were we ever really friends?
…I don't know.
[Amidst urban ambience and summer nightlife, a realization curls around your heart as you register what it means to feel a companion's weight beyond your shoulder.]
Does that matter?
What do you mean?
I mean, we're here. Even though we don't know each other as well as we used to. We're still together.
I don't think I understand what you're saying.
We just so happened to meet here, in this one moment in time. Look: the city has millions of other places we could be, and millions of other people we could have known, but we're here, together, at this bus stop.
So what, then? Because we defied the impossible odds of meeting, it doesn't matter that we don't know each other?
No. It means that, with all the impossible odds of us existing, and the impossible odds of belonging in your system, it just so happened that I had the gift of being with you.
[The streetlights flicker and gleam, and you're reminded of the sweetest and softest of dreams.]
And that's why it… doesn't matter. If we didn't really know each other then. Because I'd like to now.
[You're reminded of meeting her for the first time, looking at her as she hung the stars and sculpted the moon. You remember seeing her, as she bent to sit with you, asking:]
Let's be friends?
[You remember her full-tooth smile, how she'd turned to you, palm outstretched.]
I'd like that.
[The weight from the bench shifts, and you remember how it felt to take her hand.]