by J. L. Hilton
“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask Blaze?” Seth’s tone was acrid.
“You suddenly don’t like your CO?” She helped him stack the stuff in front of the glowing Asteria logo opposite her door.
“I don’t like him throwing his brassy dick at you.”
She laughed. “Well, he didn’t like me enough to answer my questions about aliens. How did a Glin get here? They don’t have space travel. They don’t even use fire.”
“Does it matter?”
“It’s my job?”
Seth set down the box in his hands and reached for her, pulling her close. “Please be careful, Genny. This place is dangerous. And I feel like it’s my fault you’re out here, cuz of my stupid email.”
“No, Seth…”
His fingers pushed her viridian hair back from her tattooed eyebrows. “If anything happened to you, I’d lose it.”
Seth was hot, so smoking hot he should be declared an oxygen violation. There were several priority notices blinking on her bracer—email to answer, comments to moderate, impatient colonists with crates to pick up, a garden that needed tending. But she ignored them. Instead, she whispered, “Can you stay a little longer?”
“Long enough.” He pulled her into her compartment and kicked the door shut with a clang.
With practiced ease, she unfastened his uniform and he untied the cords that stretched her recycled fiber dress over the curves of her body.
“Should I turn on the netcam?”
“Why?” He gripped her by the shoulders and held her at arm’s length.
“So we can watch it later.”
“And put it on your blog? Genny, you’re not a net-whore. Do you need money? Is that why you came out here?”
“No, I don’t need money. And I wouldn’t put it on my blog.” Well, not if this is your reaction, she thought.
“Good.” They moved toward the bed built into the wall. “There are some things I want all to myself.”
Genny wondered, not for the first time, if Seth was lucky enough to be naturally well-endowed, or whether his parents had paid extra for the gen-mod. But it would be rude to ask.
***
“These are the times that try men’s souls!” said the unmistakable, sonorous voice of the Glin.
“Well, damn it, where is he?” She couldn’t see him, but she could hear him amidst the sea of sounds and voices. She couldn’t give her followers a glimpse of Seth’s endowments, but she wished she could at least give them information about the Glin-Tikat war.
“Tyranny is not easily conquered, but the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly.”
One feed picked up his voice better than the others. It must have been very close to him, but he was out of view. She opened this stream on her bracer so she could listen to him while she tied on a dress, grabbed a shawl, strapped on her boots and ran a hand through her hair.
“I know that humans value their freedom,” he said. “We Glin also love freedom. To us it is more than anything else in the universe, except love. But you cannot have the one without the other.”
Throwing a few bananas into her bag and chewing a vitamin pill, she went out the door.
“Hey, Genny.” Taya was coming in from the stairwell. In a low voice she said, “I wanted to give you the heads up that Wyatt and I might be moving into my aunt’s block.”
“Why?”
The children. Taya mouthed the words, her back to the hallway netcam. She nodded her head toward Mose’s compartment. “You’re not going to give us crap about the contract, are you?”
“No. If you don’t want to live here, that’s your business, but…”
“Your Interplanetary Declaration of Human Rights states that everyone has the right to life, liberty and security,” said the Glin’s voice through Genny’s bracer.
“What are you watching?” Taya peered at Genny’s forearm.
“The alien in the Colony Square.”
“This declaration states that no one shall be held in slavery or servitude,” said the Glin. “No one shall be subjected to arbitrary arrest, detention or exile.”
“How would an alien get in the colony?” Taya stuck her data key into her door. “That’s someone doing cosplay.”
Taking the stairwell down to Level Two, Genny ate one of the bananas, dropping the peel in a compost chute. She didn’t doubt the alien’s authenticity. Blaze didn’t deny it was a real Glin, either, he was just reluctant to discuss the topic. Maybe Taya was one of those people who still believed aliens were a hoax simulated by the early Asteria researchers in order to keep their funding. Urban legends and false information persisted for a long time on the Stellarnet.
“Your Interplanetary Declaration also states that everyone has the right to take part in the government of her or his own country. Even more important to us, we Glin believe that everyone has the right—and the duty—to govern, unimpeded, the direction of her or his own individual destiny. But the Tikati seek to impose their will over all others, and they have outlawed any legitimate attempt by the Glin to determine our own fate.”
In Sector L, the thoroughfare was lined with several sleeping colonists. Genny wondered if they’d lost their data keys. But, on closer examination, they didn’t look like they’d ever lived in compartments, bathed or eaten on a regular basis. More relos. Seth told her that blocks sometimes showed up with twenty or thirty people inside and no garden or recycling systems. It put a serious strain on the colony, but if they were sent back, they might die waiting to be tugged back to Earth.
Sending people to Asteria like that was immoral, in her opinion, and it violated ESCC guidelines. She would return later to interview them and hoped her blog would prompt an investigation.
“One nation of Earth wrote in its sacred documents, ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, and have the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.’” The Glin recited each word with ringing clarity and impassioned exuberance. “In time, ‘all men’ was understood in its truest sense, to mean that all human beings were endowed with these rights, be they male, female, neither or both; be they young or old; be they one color or another; be they believers or non-believers, rich or poor, right or wrong. Perhaps one day, ‘all men’ will include even we Glin, as well.”
Genny left Sector L and entered the Colony Square. She could see the alien standing on the pipe, as before. When she was close enough to hear his voice in person, she turned off the feed on her bracer.
“All of those who are self-aware are desirous of liberty. We Glin know that liberty is essential to happiness, and courage is essential to liberty. Those who would reap the benefit of freedom must undergo the fatigue of fearlessly supporting it. Who will stand with me, to liberate my world?”
Genny took a deep breath, squelched her apprehension, and stepped right in front of him. He didn’t look at her, but scanned the Colony Square, the area around and behind her, before he turned his gaze downward.
“I was hoping for a larger response, but I will take what I can get. I am Duin.” The way he pronounced the name sounded like a drop of water falling into a pool.
“Doowinn?” she repeated.
“Yes.” His smile was warm and encouraging. He extended his hand, which had five fingers like hers but was speckled grayish-green across the back, pale and pearlescent underneath, and was slightly webbed, up to the lower knuckles.
She found herself thinking, I’m about to touch a freaking alien! as she stood there examining his outstretched fingers.
“And you are…?” he prompted.
“Oh.” She laughed nervously, looking up at him. “I didn’t mean to be rude, it’s just… you’re the first alien I’ve ever met. I’m Genevieve O’Riordan.”
Taking his hand, she found it cool and smooth, not clammy as she’d expected. A strange feeling came over her, like she was falling into him, even though he was standing above her. She took a slow, deep
breath, trying to clear her head of the sense of vertigo. He let go of her hand and the feeling went away, but she still felt woozy.
“Genevieve O’Riordan,” he repeated slowly. “An aqueous name.”
She wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but decided it was a compliment. “Thank you. My friends call me Genny.”
“Of course,” he said. “I am pleased to meet you, J’ni.” He pronounced it jeh-nee. “You are the first human to ever smile at me.”
“Oh. Um. I’m sorry.”
He leaned down until his face was close to hers, and he peered at her with large gray eyes that glistened like wet stones. She could see her own reflection in them. He had no hair, but short, white eyelashes rimmed his lids.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a friendly face.” He hopped down from the pipe. On level ground they were the same height, though his muscular physique, wide shoulders and expressive gestures made him seem large in comparison. She glanced down to see if his feet were webbed too, but they were covered by boots made of a similar material as the rest of his suit. Gesturing to the pipe, he said, “I don’t have a box of soap, so this must suffice. Nor do I have an ax.”
“Why would you need an ax?”
“To grind it,” he said, shaking his fist. “And when it is sharp, I will use it to fight Tikati. But we Glin have not developed the metallurgical arts.”
“Only the linguistic ones,” she said. “You speak my language very well.”
“Because I stand on the shoulders of giants.” He waved his hands with a dramatic flourish. Genny wondered if all Glin were as animated as Duin.
“What does that mean?” She examined the shape of his head and his lack of ears. He had only slits, but had no problem hearing her.
“I study your literature, and borrow from your quotations, poems and political speeches. They are a wellspring of inspiration.”
“Yes, I’ve been listening to you.”
“As you say.” He pointed to the right. “You were over there, then you moved.” He pointed a little closer. “And today, finally—” he gestured with both hands to her present position, “—you are here.”
He doesn’t miss a thing.
“Why today?” he asked. “Why did you decide to arrive, today? To wash up on my shore?”
“I want to know more about you.” Which was true, but then she found herself adding even more honesty. “And you seemed so alone. It’s terrible to be alone in a crowd.”
Duin grew very still. “It is,” he agreed, studying her face. Then he smiled and swept his hands out in a wide gesture. “Would you walk with me? Since I cannot swim here, I must perambulate. I like to stay in motion.”
“I noticed.” She kept pace with him as he walked out of the Colony Square and down one of the thoroughfares. Heads turned and stared, but he didn’t seem to care. Genny was not a self-conscious person, but she thought she might crack if people stared at her like that in real life.
“Perambulate. Isn’t that a lovely word?” Duin said. “I added it to my vocabulary recently. It makes a sound like water sloshing in the bottom of a small boat.” He swished his hands back and forth as he said the word again, stressing each syllable. “Perambulate.”
“How did you learn my language?”
“I will show you.” He drew a small device from the front of his vest. “A very good friend of mine, an elder and philosopher named Tucloup, was given a translator when your scientists visited Glin. I use it extensively and update it when I can.”
He handed her the device. It displayed English alongside some symbols she didn’t recognize. They looked like dots and splashes.
Duin made a series of sounds like gurgling water, and a voice from the translator said, “Are you familiar with my language?”
Genny shook her head. “No, I’m not.”
“Oh, well, no, you wouldn’t need to be,” Duin conceded, returning to English. He turned the device off and tucked it into the front of his suit.
“It must have taken you a long time to learn.”
“I am still learning.” He laughed. “I used this translator to teach myself. But after I arrived here, I realized that there were so many words it did not contain. Are there more like perambulate?”
“There are several words for movement,” she said. “But they’re not used much in conversation. There’s meander, amble, promenade, saunter, wander, roam, step, mosey…”
“Amazing.”
“If I think of any more, I’ll let you know.”
“Thank you. We have a similar phenomenon on Glin with the word water. There are two-hundred and eighteen words for it.”
“There are that many kinds of water?”
“Certainly. There’s hunting water, safe water, shallow water, deep water, muddy water, birth water, drinking water… How many ways do you say water?”
“We might call it liquid or H2O.”
“Fascinating. What about swim?”
She was about to tell him how to find the thesaurus app on the Asternet, when they were interrupted.
“Oh, my God, Abby, scope the alien!” A woman stopped and pointed at Duin. She was dressed as if she’d scrounged clothes from at least five different recycling bins in five different time periods
“What is that?” asked Abby. “Is it a sim?”
Duin nodded to them in greeting. “My name is Duin.”
“It talks. No. Way.”
“I want those clothes. Those are fresh, aren’t they, Li-Mei?”
“Totally fresh,” said Li-Mei.
“What are they made of?” Abby asked Duin.
“The skin of a wallump.”
“Skin? Like real skin? Like leather? Are you rich?”
“Rich in sorrows,” he said in a way that made Genny feel terrible.
Abby poked her finger at Duin and Genny grabbed the woman by the arm. “He’s a living being, not a simulation.”
“Wh’ever! It’s prolly got cooties.”
“Cooties?” said Duin.
“Disease, sickness, contagion,” Genny said.
“Ew.” Li-Mei took a step back and covered her mouth. “We’re going to catch Kerala Flu.”
“I have medical clearance from Dr. Geber,” Duin said, but the women turned and hurried away.
“Sorry about that,” said Genny.
“I am not offended by your bold declaration of my existence. Thank you.”
“I mean, I’m sorry how people—my people—treat you.”
Duin shrugged and continued walking. “I am a pebble thrown into their pool.” He made a wavy motion with his webbed hand. “I cause ripples. What is Kerala Flu?”
“An outbreak of violent illness a few years ago,” said Genny. “Thousands of people died. It was right after a group of researchers returned from studying Glin, so people went full yeti and started blaming aliens and saying we were doomed. It had nothing to do with your people or your planet, but the fear persists.”
They passed a figure huddled between the wall and a compost chute, and Genny couldn’t help staring. It was a woman, an old woman, with a creased face and gray hair like her Nana. Nana never had a regeneration or a gen-mod but still managed to live into her nineties. With one filthy hand, the old woman gripped a sheet of plastic around herself like a cloak.
“She sleeps here,” said Duin. “I’ve offered to let her live in my compartment, but she won’t speak to me, not even to refuse. She is an Elder of the colony, and deserves better than this.”
“Yes.” Genny reached into her bag, pulled out her remaining two bananas and handed them to the woman.
The dark brown eyes that gazed up at Genny were bloodshot and the woman’s voice was weary. “Are you sure? They’re not gone bad, yet.”
“Please take them,” said Genny.
The woman glanced around, cast a suspicious glance at Duin, then snatched them and slipped them under the plastic sheet. Genny added a note to her queue, reminding herself to come back and talk to the woman when Duin wa
sn’t there.
As they walked on, he said, “Food is very difficult to find here. Why did you share yours with her?”
“She was hungry.”
“There are many hungry individuals here.” Duin moved his hand as if he was conducting a headcount. “Can you feed all of them?”
“I can feed that one,” she said. “That’s sort of why I’m here. Not to feed people, I mean, to report the truth about this place.”
“And what truth will you tell?”
“Rich and powerful individuals, governments and corporations are funding—or forcing—undesirable people to leave Earth. Not that I think they’re undesirable, but if they’re poor or don’t have jobs or gen-mods, some people don’t want them on Earth. It’s like racial cleansing all over again, but with the entire human race. The colony is small, now, but it will get larger. Just like Mars or the mining colonies around the Solar System.”
Duin didn’t reply but gazed at her with a strange expression. Genny had no idea if Glin used the same facial expressions as humans, but so far it seemed that Duin did. He did to the extreme, his face in vigorous articulation of every emotion. So, if she had to guess, she would say he gazed at her with a combination of amazement and admiration, much deeper than perhaps she deserved.
“She also reminded me of my grandmother,” Genny said. “Nana died last year.”
“It is painful to be separated from those we love.”
“Yes.”
After a moment of somber silence, Duin’s mood changed again. “I eat human food.” He smiled.
“Have you tried bananas?”
“Yes. Dr. Geber insists on plying me with every kind of consumable in the colony, and then studying my reaction to it. I don’t mind—though some things taste better than others—because his interest in my biology is one reason I’m allowed to remain here.”
Genny pulled up the directory on her bracer. DR. SHAFIN GEBER was not available, but she tagged his name to contact him later.
“And why are you on Asteria?”
“To secure aid for my people. I stand in the center every day, speaking to whomever will listen. And, perhaps, one day, it will be the right whomever.”
