worlds. Some dreams stay with us as we grow, others die
within us, and some we die chasing. There lived a man once
called Don Luís de Velasco, a man who dreamed of power
and wealth, a man who left his homeland of Spain and
came to Mexico to find it.
“Up – that’s an unusual name, isn’t it?” Dr. Renley
leaned back in her chair and shuffled a few papers around
in her hands. “And it’s the only one listed on your file,
Commander.”
“It’s the only one I’ve got.”
The psychiatrist eyed him over the top of her thick-
rimmed glasses. “You’ve only ever had one name? Even as
a child?”
Up remained stony-faced.
Dr. Renley turned her eyes back to the file in her hands.
“It says here you were raised in an orphanage. Did the
administrators there give you the name?”
When Up continued to remain silent, she put the file
down on her desk and folded her hands. “This is your
counselling session, Commander. We can avoid the easy
questions if you’d like to. Would you prefer to talk about
your feelings?”
They stared at each other. Up crossed his arms. The
movement was becoming easier, more instinctual. But he
just felt so tired. Nothing mattered anymore, so what was
the harm in answering a few questions? “Not much to tell. I
was just another war baby that showed up on the
orphanage’s doorstep when they were already full. I was
given a number, not a name. It was the other kids started
calling me Up.”
“And why was that?” Dr. Renley asked smoothly.
Up leaned back in his chair. “I reckon it was cause I was
always looking at the stars.”