“Star light, star bright,
the first star I see tonight.
I wish I may, I wish I might,
have this wish I wish tonight.”
***
Incident Report:
It has come to our recent attention that a Star who wishes to remain anonymous, employed as a representative of The Sun by The Solar Universe Network, has received a telecommunication with an unidentified Planet who was attempting to contact Polaris, a member of the Constellation Ursae Minoris, regarding unattended and unread wishes. Though unconfirmed, it is likely that the caller in question is Venus, Second Planet from The Sun in The Solar Universe Network. She has a well-documented history of repeatedly targeting, harassing, and antagonizing numerous Stars, as well as The Sun himself. Thus, she is categorized as a hostile Planet within The Solar Universe Network, and Stars are highly discouraged from engaging with her. To reiterate, the caller does not directly identify themselves as the Planet Venus, instead choosing the moniker “Pluto.” This report will identify the anonymous Star as “Star Redacted” and the caller simply as “Caller.”
The following is a transcript of the recording submitted to The Solar Universe Network:
Automated Voice: Thank you for calling The Solar Universe Network Hotline. To speak to an associate, press one. To file a complaint, press two. Para continuar en españ-
Caller: *presses one*
Automated Voice: Thank you. To speak to someone within The Cigar Galaxy, press one. To speak to someone within The Whirlpool Galaxy, press two. To speak to someone within The Andromeda Galaxy, press three. To speak to someone within Stephan’s Quintet, press four, five, six, seven, or eight. To speak to someone within The Milky Way Galaxy, press nine.
Caller: *presses nine*
Automated Voice: Thank you. To speak to a singular Star, press one. To speak to a Star within a Cluster, press two. To speak to a Star in a Constellation, press three. To speak to The Sun, press four-
Caller: *presses three*
Automated Voice: Thank you. After the tone, please specify the Constellation you would like to speak to:
*tone beeps*
Caller: Ursa. Minor.
Automated Voice: Thank you. To speak to Epsilon, press one. To speak to Gaia, press two. To speak to Kochab, press three. To speak to Pherkad, press four. To speak to Polaris, pre-
Caller: *presses 5*
Automated Voice: Thank you. Please hold.
*scratchy tinkling sounds of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star*
Automated Voice: An associate is on the way and will speak to you shortly. We at The Solar Universe Network appreciate your patience. Please hold.
*Twinkle Twinkle Little Star continues*
Caller: (quietly) You’d think they’d get better-sounding music by now…
*music stops*
Star Redacted: (brightly) Thank you for calling the Solar Universe Network Hotline! This is Star Redacted, representative of The Sun. How can I help you?
Caller: I need to speak to Polaris. Directly.
Star Redacted: Okay! Could I get your name, status, orientation to S.U.N., and Galaxy?
Caller: Pluto, Planet, furthest planet to S.U.N., and Milky Way Galaxy.
Star Redacted: Alright… (with intrigue)And what is the purpose of your call?
Caller: Yes I’m calling because I found several wishes this morning, and I’m not sure what to do with them seeing that as a Planet, I do not have any responsibility in managing and fulfilling wishes. These are matters Stars should deal with.
Star Redacted: Certainly! Certainly. We appreciate you taking the time to report your findings to us. I just need some more clarifying information.
Caller: (clipped) Okay.
Star Redacted: How many wishes would you say there are?
Caller: I don’t have the time to count them all, but I firmly believe it’s more than hundreds of thousands.
Star Redacted: …I’m sorry, did you say…?
Caller: Yep.
Star Redacted: More than… wow, okay. Uhm… wow… *a bark of a laugh* Sorry!
Caller: That’s okay. I just, want them gone – er! Taken care of.
Star Redacted: Of course! Of course. We want to make sure those are taken care of too! Where exactly are all of them?
Caller: … is that information necessary?
Star Redacted: … yes! Absolutely yes! That’s… it’s… (with fervor) I-I don’t think I’ve ever heard of… If something’s gone wrong with our network that badly, we need as much information as possible in order to fix it! This is… quite the imbalance here! –
Caller: Right. Right… I… just, found them… on Venus.
Star Redacted: (excitement gone) …on, Venus… well, uh… I (thinking)
Caller: Hello?
Star Redacted: (shaky) Uh, since you did not specify your status as a Dwarf Planet, “Pluto,” this call is void. Goodbye.
(The call is terminated)
Caller: … son of a bi–
The recording ends there. The anonymous Star in does not wish to proceed further in the investigation of the misidentified caller. Polaris has been informed of the attempt made to contact it. We have advised it to be wary of calls made within The Solar Universe Network, and to report any of them to us.
End of Incident Report.
Signed, The Members of the Asteroid Belt
***
It took Polaris a moment to notice that Earth put up a few clouds, effectively blocking it, along with the rest of its team, from the Earthlings’ view.
“Sheesh. Seriously?”
Yildun relaxed themselves, grateful for the break. “Chill, Polaris.”
“What are – what?” it sputtered.
“Dude, relax. It’s just a cloud,” Epsilon called over Yildun’s head.
“But they need us!”
“You mean, they need you. We get it.”
“Lay off, Ep.” Yildun turned back to Polaris and, more gently, said “It’ll pass. Just, try to relax, yeah?” Polaris huffed and attempted to outshine the obfuscation. It had a responsibility to fulfill. Tonight was no exception. Earth’s natural curtains parted briefly with no attention to anything above their own atmosphere. Still, Polaris spotlit the Earth’s sky. It didn’t know who was down there or how lost they were, but it was proud to be the one to guide them towards shelter, towards home, towards each other. The other stars in its constellation were unmoved by Polaris’ pride. Naturally, the curtains fell, covering Earth back up, though Polaris wasn’t finished with its scene.
“Aw, come on!”
“They aren’t as lost as you think they are, Po.” Zeta winked. “They’ve found other ways of getting themselves back to wherever.”
“And besides! We’re not the single most greatest Star in all of Ess You En!” came the mocking voice of Gaia. The exaggeration of her face, voice, mannerisms, and speech never failed to irk the notorious North Star, and it burned its embarrassment as Kochab and Pherkad joined in with their own impressions and supplied encouraging laughter, a juggling act of buffoonery.
“I love The Sun!”
“He’s the greatest Planet in the whoooole galaxy!”
“Maybe one day, I will be The Sun!”
“And rule over alllll the other Planets and Stars!”
“The Earthlings’ll write books about me! Just you wait!” The other Stars snickered.
“Like I won’t file a complaint,” came the retort through gritted teeth. It was always threatening any misbehavior with citations, but the others in the Constellation were never intimidated by its prestige. The Sun wasn’t going to replace any of them any time soon. A phone rang then. The other Stars focused themselves and got ready to respond. Polaris turned to The Sun and spoke, beaming.
“Hiya, Polaris here, Head of the Constellation Ursae Minoris, also known as the North Star! How can I help you?” There was no one on the other end.
“I don’t think anyone is calling our team.” The other Stars nodded their assent.
“You know you can just say ‘Ursa Minor’-“
“I like the Latin, okay?!” Polaris, only then, registered the silent buzzing beside it. From its personal phone. “Oh! Um, do – do you mind?”
“Ooooooo! You must be in trouuuu-bleeeee!” came the chorus from the far side of their arrangement.
“If that was the case, we would all be notified of it. And then you can all celebrate your riddance of me.” Exasperation seeped out of its tight smile.
“Heyheyhey, alright, alright. Let’s just, enjoy the cloud cover while it lasts. Yeah?” The others, never really wanting to get on a Star like Yildun’s nerves, hushed and lounged behind the clouds.
“Thank you, Yildun.” They nodded before leaving Polaris alone with the phone. It concentrated briefly before answering with its bright tagline.
“Drop the voice, Polaris.” The second brightest star in the universe felt itself burn in a new way as her volcanic voice rumbled its interruption. “And don’t hang up.”
“Venus?! H-How did you-“
“Doesn’t matter. I need your help.”
“You don’t just-!” It dropped its voice low despite the privacy granted by its fellow Stars. “You can’t just call me like this!”
“You don’t look busy to me.” It looked up, only to find her staring right into it. The seasoned Star could feel her radiating heat even with the distance Earth provided.
“Venus, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to repor-“
“Can’t. It’s untraceable.” Polaris checked the number, and sure enough, there was no number. “Who would believe you anyway, Starboy?” she continued. “It’s a personal, unrecorded phone call, made at a time when you’re not actively working.” Caught. The Star was caught.
“Did – did Earth-?”
“No. Just, good timing.” Polaris knew better than to assume a smile in her voice.
“What do you want, Venus?” it sighed in a less formal tone.
“You already know.” It wasn’t as adept in the careful construction of sentences with outside-of-work calls. Venus wasn’t likely to be a good mentor.
“I would like to help you, but… I’m busy with trying to get lost Earthlings ho-“
“Not tonight you’re not.” Snippy. It huffed, and thought.
“They’ll die if they stay lost.” Silence. “You don’t want them to die, do you?”
“Their dreams will die if you don’t help me.” It held the phone away from its ear, suspicious. It wasn’t sure that wishes and dreams were exactly the same thing, even though they came from the same place. It turned back to the unrelenting cloud cover.
“Polaris.” An edge flickered in her tone.
“I get it, but I just can’t. I’m so-”
“Listen here you pretentious wanna-be.” Now the edge was out, her flaming tone like fast, thick fingers racing up against its throat. “This has been an issue since those Earthlings appeared. I have seen that asinine phrase over and over and over again, night after night after night on those stupid envelopes. I could recite it forwards, backwards, upside down, and in alphabetical order. Every one of those Earthlings – each, singular, one – has wishes. I know more about Earthlings than I am meant to through their wishes alone. About babies and birthdays and Christmas; about tests and pets and cars and destruction of each other and boyfriends and for what, exactly?!
“And you know what else? Nobody, not a damned atom, sees me as what I am. I am a capital P Planet. You know that. S.U.N knows that. The Sun knows that! I am not supposed to be wished upon. You can’t seriously expect me to take care of it anymore! And I wouldn’t, even if I could.”
Polaris sweat as it listened, unused to the Phoenix she’d unleashed on several Stars before. It wondered why she couldn’t be like The Sun and use that passion for something better than this current haranguing. It blinked when it felt safe to do so. It wasn’t much darker behind its eyes. It should have hung up by now.
“Polaris…? Hello?” Then it remembered it was a leader.
“I’m not about to compromise my reputation just to help you.” Polaris kept its voice measured.
“Y’know what?” she huffed on the other end. Yildun lit up, as though to ask “what’s taking so long?” Polaris waved them off as Venus asked: “What is your reputation?”
“…Are you kidding me?” the flummoxed Star shot back. “I – I’m the second brightest Star in The Milky Way Galaxy, I’m a part of Ursae Minoris, Earthlings use me as a means of being found-”
“That’s not what I mean.” Though still angry, she’d spoken slower, a part of her fire dwindling some. “At your core – you, you, you, Polaris – at your core – not The Sun’s, not Ursa Minor’s, not the Earthling’s core – at your core, what. Is. Your. Reputation?” A vacuous space pooled into its mind. This was the most that the Star had ever reflected on anything about itself. Then, two words appeared:
“… I help…”
“… good enough,” she muttered. “So you help. That’s your thing, right? So if you took care of some of these wishes, that would be helping. Which is what you’re known for.”
“Yes, yes, the Big Bang didn’t happen yesterday.”
“So you’re saying yes.”
“No. I’m not going to –“
“Fine. Let me read you one, then.” Polaris was confused until it heard the sound of something opening.
“Wait no what nononono stopstopstop-“
“ ‘Star light, star bright, the first star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight: I wish my dad could come home again.’” Polaris felt its side pulse, an odd new agony choking it. Venus pressed on with another:
“‘Star light, star bright, the first star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight: I wish mirrors didn’t exist so I wouldn’t be disappointed every morning.’ Oh, and report me if you’d like. I’ve already been labeled as a threat. What’s one more for the pile?” A new pang – just from behind – knocked back the plea to stop.
“‘Star light, star bright, the first star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight: I wish I wanted to be alive.’” Venus stopped. Polaris dulled. Everyone within the S.U.N does not have the luxury of time measurement the way Earthlings do. So Venus’ regret couldn’t be measured in the ticking of a broken clock’s hand alone. That moment, the irreversible kind, is something one feels.
When the Star spoke again, its voice was surprisingly calm:
“What do you suggest?”
***
Venus paused and waited. She turned, some, against The Sun, peering out for a bright light as Mars crept behind her. A long time ago, Venus was young, softer, and just a second away from The Sun. They hadn’t planned on exploding that closely to each other when the Universe began. She didn’t like thinking about her lakes and seas, the greenery bearing their own gifts that would fall back to her, her own “hello!” for the Stars that passed by. The past is meant to stay there, just above her own clouds, self-created to keep The Sun from hurting her any more than he already had. Just because he didn’t mean to do it didn’t undo his damage on her.
Damage? Ha! She listened now to her own kinds of rivers, her geysers spouting into an atmosphere inhospitable to anyone but her. They tried sending robots out – the Earthlings did – and she found catharsis in its inability to capture her private image. But that was after the wishes arrived. She had been surprised to see the small, glowing square land on her without immediately disintegrating. As she reached for it, she could feel its non-warmth piercing through the endless fire the way a ray of light cuts through a pressing darkness. It felt like swimming, reading what was inside: pushing down, and down, the pressure and defiance exponentially increasing. After she was done, the letter dimmed yet remained intact. After berating a Star, she discovered that it was a wish sent by an Earthling, mistaking the Planet for a Star. She asked why this was happening and got nothing back. So, she parted her clouds to speak to The Sun. By now, the Solar Universe Network was running, requiring her to place a call to its hotline. She waited and waded through six-minute delay after six-minute delay as The Sun explained that he and Earth couldn’t do anything about the Earthlings, and that she should forward any new wishes to nearby Stars.
As the wishes continued to appear, growing in quantity at the same rate Earth’s inhabitants did, she did just that, not having any better ideas. At first, they were grateful for the extra wishes, preferring it over the monotony of expanding space. Over time, they kept coming in faster than Stars were taking them. So, she swam in what she could to stave off Earth’s night. Annoyance and alarm, in turn, prickled in the many Stars she saw. Some filed complaints to The Sun; others ignored her as they passed; and more lied, claiming they could only carry a certain amount of wishes on hand. Soon they began arriving with full agendas and leaving hastily with accusations of dead wishes trailing. Weighted, Venus tried contacting The Sun again, asking him to manage his Stars, or to find a better way around it. And despite the golf-ball between them, he was busy – too busy – being the face of the newly designed S.U.N.
Venus combusted. Livid, she pulled any Star she could into her orbit and demanded that they fulfill the obligation put forth by their boss. At any sign of refusal, she would hold them under her clouds until they took a wish. When S.U.N’s cease and desist letter eventually arrived, it was indistinguishable among every wish unread. It ordered Venus to terminate the level of engagement she had with Stars immediately as billions of complaints had been made to The Sun regarding her behavior. At the end of the letter, The Sun forbade any Stars from retrieving wishes from Venus due to her hostility. And as the wishes grew bigger and louder and heavier, Venus turned inward, a silent planet now shrouded in tufts of sulfur.
She turned now, again. If she wasn’t mistaken, Mars had a new spot that glowed. And she wasn’t. Venus was impressed at Polaris’ ingenuity; she knew that how bright a star shined didn’t always indicate its intelligence. She’d heard many stories (Earth was always a storyteller) about Earthlings who made stupid decisions and the Stars that would save them and wondered if Earthlings were capable of the same stuff Stars were. Mars slowly turned until Polaris was facing Venus. It flashed a smile at her, though she could tell it was nervous. They both understood the stakes. Venus tried to simmer down and feel gratuity for its willingness to meet under these circumstances as she opened her cloud cover for it. Its eyes widened at the enormity of the task.
“Well,” it clucked, then floated a little closer. Even for a hotshot like Polaris, her arid surface – tiled and caked, near-exploding with wishes – was unlike anything it had ever seen before. The gleam in its eyes changed from daunted to analytic, calculating which wishes could be taken and which ones were too risky to carry. She steadily watched it transfer the envelopes from her and tuck them into itself, not about to be burned again. Paranoid about timing, Polaris reached for some wishes it had already taken and considered putting them back. Venus gazed at the Star with as much of The Sun as she could muster. Its face pleaded with her to let it leave just one wish behind. Her glare denied it that privilege. It made a sighing motion as it kept the wish and took a few more. Venus felt lighter, even if it had barely made a dent.
Mars was halfway out of orbit now, drawing The Sun’s gaze towards his direction. Full, Polaris relaxed, giving a small wave and a flashy smile as it soared back to its Constellation. As the regular flow of the orbit continued and everyone marched and crawled around her, Venus found herself wondering about them. The Earthlings. Earth told her stories, yes; and still, she could recall those early words – from the Earthlings themselves! – arriving in her own gravitational pull, asking for help. Like them, she began believing in Polaris.
***
Polaris’ phone rang again.
“Hiya, Polaris here, Head of the Constellation Ursae Minoris, also known as the North Star! How can I help you?”
“Wow. They make you say that every time?”
“How… how?!”
“Not telling. And don’t hang up.” A sigh. “Look, I’m not saying immediately, but…”
“Soon?”
“…Soon.”