Shepherd Clause

They board quietly. I set the course.

Two passengers. Female. Male. One child listed in the family record.

The woman carries a medical folder. The man carries nothing. They sit beside each other.

The woman opens the folder. She speaks loudly. She says the hospital will not approve the procedure. The doctors told her to try naturally. She says that is not what she wants. She wants a healthy child. Her hand strikes the folder once.

He asks what they expect from the healthy child. She straightens the papers inside the folder. They will not put the first child in an institution. They cannot manage him forever. Someone will have to be there when they are gone.

A pause.

The man looks at the folder. He asks what will happen if the child wants something else. The woman closes the folder. Everyone has responsibilities, she said.

The man looks toward the window. Silence.

The vessel passes through the disk. Nothing has accreted yet. Shepherd moons form this way too, holding rings that are not their own.

No additional passenger is registered. I carry people. Their words travel with them. The unlisted ones travel too.