By Natalia Yanchak
Her body casts two shadows on the ground: one stout outline of the bulky space-suit, and a second thinner, umbric image that moves as if she were watching her own shadow elongate during a time-lapsed sunset. In the black sky a second sun has appeared, glowing blue rather than yellow, and falling down towards the horizon.
Szyggi stands in a line that coils toward a low, brick-clad building. Beside her a rigid red and blue poly carbonate campaign sign hangs on a lamp post: “VOTE! Are you registered*? Of course you are! VOTE TODAY!” An asterisk leads to finely printed text at the bottom of the banner: “*Unregistered citizens will be immediately deported by law. Registered citizens that do not vote will be penalized 800 credits.” She sighs nervously.