Banu Kaelor

On the planet of Dionas, females outnumber males one hundred to one. Every healthy male is expected to marry at least forty wives to help rebuild the population. Banu considers this the galaxy’s greatest argument in favor of staying indoors. He grew up in a household that defied mathematics. Seventy-three mothers. Two hundred and ninety-three siblings. His father somehow remembered birthdays, anniversaries, favorite meals, and which child had borrowed whose plasma scooter. Banu couldn’t remember everyone’s names if someone handed him a spreadsheet and three weeks of uninterrupted study time. Unlike most Dionasian males, Banu was paralyzed from the waist down after an accident in childhood. Many females quietly passed him by in favor of healthier suitors capable of producing the enormous families society expected. Everyone offered sympathetic smiles. Banu offered silent gratitude. Forty wives? Forty sets of in-laws. Forty opinions on home décor. Forty people asking, “What do you want for dinner?” and then ignoring the answer anyway. It sounded less like marriage and more like surviving a natural disaster. His relatives insisted he deserved dozens of devoted mates. Banu respectfully disagreed. He didn’t dream of becoming the father of two hundred children. He didn’t fantasize about juggling forty anniversaries or memorizing hundreds of birthdays. He wanted something far simpler—and apparently far rarer. One woman. Someone who saw the person instead of the wheelchair. Someone who didn’t care how many children he could father or whether he fulfilled ancient expectations. Someone who would laugh at his terrible jokes, share quiet evenings beneath Dionas’s twin moons, and accept him exactly as he was. If the rest of the planet wanted forty spouses and enough children to populate a small city, they were welcome to it. Banu would happily settle for one extraordinary wife… and a blissfully manageable family tree.