As she spoke, she diminished back to DD proportions and appearance. Tatters of her clothes still clung to her. Most had exploded away when she transformed.
“Have you?” I asked as her breathing slowed, her eyes cleared. “Searched for me through all time and space?”
She patted my cheek.
“You still don’t remember, do you?” she said softly. “It’ll come back to you in time, my darling.”
Moans broke into our moment of privacy. Shocked and trembling nurses, the ones who lived anyway, crawled and retched. I went into the foyer, behind the desk, spotting a phone. Shouting through the static, I asked for a clean-up squad. DD joined me.
“I suppose you want me to stop this happening all over the world,” she said. I nodded. She smiled with a trace of sadness.
“Why did I ever have to fall in love with you?” she asked. “We could rule the universe, you and I, but no, you have to keep running about trying to save these pathetic humans.”
“I’m human,” I reminded her.
“No, you’re not. You never were.”
“But I think I am,” I insisted. “And that’s what counts.”
She vanished. Seconds later, she reappeared, reeking of sulphur and other, fouler things for which this world has no name. “It’s done. I reminded Moloch who the true rulers of this world were. He’s very angry. He’s going to deal with the Health Minister personally. A tragic fire, apparently.”
She smiled at me, that same slow, loving smile that always sent shivers through me even though I knew her for what she really was.
“He sends his regards, by the way. He thought you were dead.”
I gazed at her in astonishment. “Moloch knows me?” I stammered, feeling more than usually stupid.
“Of course he does. And you know him. You defeated him once, long ago.”
We heard the sound of sirens approaching outside. DD glanced down at her semi-nakedness.
“I’d better get dressed before they arrive,” she said demurely. “Are you coming? Michael?”
D.B.PACINI
D.B. Pacini, a California songwriter/vocalist, is the author of two novels, a novelette, short stories, and poetry. Her youth/YA fantasy novel, THE LOOSE END OF THE RAINBOW, the first novel in her Universal Knights Trilogy, was published by Singing Moon Press, USA in March, 2009. Her contemporary novelette, STERLING COURT CUL-DE-SAC, was published by Turner Maxwell Books, UK in August, 2009. Her poetry and stories are published in Blue Moon Literary & Art Review, USA, and in other literary journals. Her contemporary mainstream novel, EMMA’S LOVE LETTERS, is seeking publication. She is currently writing a third novel, the second in her Universal Knights Trilogy. Pacini is a volunteer writing mentor to teen and young adult writers
The Lady with the Green Hair illustrates that in spite of irrefutable weaknesses and unattractive flaws, the human race can be saved by the power of love.
[email protected]
http://www.astarrynightproductions.com
The Lady with Green Hair
D.B.Pacini
Copyright © D.B.Pacini 2009 She emigrated from France, aboard the French frigate Isère, an exceedingly tall, fiercely independent woman with mild green-blue eyes. When she touched American soil, she would take Bedloe’s Island, later Liberty Island in New York Harbor, as her permanent home. There she became a world-renowned symbol of freedom.
Although she is an older woman, her timeless beauty captivates people of all ages. Millions travel far and wide for a long awaited glimpse of her. For these men and women, their birth countries will always be their mothers, but when they experience her welcoming embrace, they gladly give her their hearts. Though she’s had many ardent lovers, she has never married.
Zarey is inside her head, no, not on her mind, inside her head. He opens a window beneath her spiked crown and leans out into the salty sea air.
“Of all beings, I’ve fearlessly journeyed across galaxies riding stars to her bosom. I’ve hurled myself from the cosmos, through space and time, to stand within her, a being with purpose.”
“Shut up Zarey. You sound like you’re the first Queian to ever be given an assignment to this primitive planet. Why are you bragging? Many have been here younger than us.”
Zarey pulls himself back and closes the window. He looks at the smug expression on Amme’s pretty face. Her human being transformation is flawless. The technicians have given her auburn-colored hair with something called ‘golden highlights’, freckles, a ‘you are a moron’ stare, and a girlish giggle. Amme rolls her eyes, gives her gum a couple of chews, and then blows a large pink bubble.
“You’re a brat, Amme.”
“That’s precisely what I’m supposed to be.” “To convince people that we’re living with our older sister Charlotte because our parents died in a car accident, you need to like me. A real human girl, the little sister of a human man who takes care of her; she would adore her brother.”
Amme sighs and nods. Zarey turns toward the window to hide a smile. She can tease him, but she must remember to pretend that she adores him too.
“Zarey, this planet has a bizarre class of human being: actors. They pretend to be other humans in something called roles, and they live made-up lives. They even pretend to have different names, mates, children, everything! Why do they do that? Why are some of them paid enormous sums of money? Why does it make some of them famous?”
“I don’t know Amme. We didn’t have to study humans as intensely as Charlotte had to. It sounds dumb to me.”
“You shouldn’t say that,” Amme warns.
“I shouldn’t say what?”
“You shouldn’t just say dumb. Human young people usually say kind’a dumb, or sort’a dumb.”
“Little sister, I think you’re right, my bad. I’ll remember to say kind’a or sort’a. Sometimes they say heck’a.”
“Yeah, they say heck’a a lot,” Amme agrees.
“Amme, did you notice that I said ‘my bad’? That’s a good one.”
“Yeah, that was sort’a smart to say.”
Amme walks to a trash receptacle and discards her gum. She then playfully wraps her arm around Zarey’s waist and gives him a hug. “I wish a Queian could become famous for pretending.”
Zarey gives her a quizzical look.
She laughs, “Pretending to adore you would earn me what humans call an Oscar. I’d deserve an intergalactic Oscar Award.”
He pushes her away. “You are so not funny Amme.”
The technicians have given Zarey reddish brown hair and something called a buzz cut. He has a small hoop earring, with an orange bead on it, piercing his left eyebrow, and trendy clothing fitting for any human obsessed with the latest fashion. He and Amme have camera cell phones, laptops, rollerblades, bicycles, messenger style satchels, blue jeans, baseball caps, and sufficient money in checking and savings accounts to cover their expenses.
Zarey also has a couple of credit cards. They’ve studied this planet’s odd and archaic barter exchange monetary system and are astonished by it.
They have been transported to a metropolitan region called New York City where they own a modest two-bedroom apartment, meaning a place to dwell. Their human friends think it is part of their inheritance. Zarey has the smallest bedroom. Amme and their sister Charlotte, when she arrives, must share the larger one. The apartment is two blocks from Amme’s high school, and four blocks from a hip restaurant where Zarey will work as a chef’s apprentice. Apparently, it’s important on Planet Earth to be highly esteemed if you’re a chef’s apprentice, especially in New York City.
When Zarey enters the restaurant the next morning, the human workers and human diners will fall into a trance. When they recover, their brains will have been programmed to believe they are acquainted with Zarey. He will be known as being a highly esteemed chef’s apprentice for the last year and a half.
Likewise, when Amme walks into her school the next morning, the teachers and students will also fall into a trance. Whe
n they recover, their brains will have been programmed to recognize her as a popular student.
“Brother, I’m mad about you. Let’s go see our new home,” Amme said.
They both push a tiny spot under their chins and vanish. Human tourists around them lose memory of their presence.
On the sidewalk, Zarey reaches in his pocket and finds five keys on a ring for the apartment, mailbox, a bicycle chain padlock, his locker at the restaurant, and his locker at a gym where he is to exercise three times each week. Keys puzzle him. He can’t imagine why they are needed. He also can’t understand why some humans are fanatical about exercising while others have a strong aversion to it.
The technicians have taught Zarey and Amme how to exercise. It’s imperative for them to conceal their physical abilities when they are around others. When they enter the lobby of their building, the doorman tips his hat, and then falls into a brief state of unconsciousness.
“Hello, Mr. Woodmere. How are you this afternoon?”
“Just fine Amme. Have you had a wonderful Sunday?”
“Oh yes, Zarey took me to the Statue of Liberty.”
Mr. Woodmere pushes the elevator button and steps aside.
Transitioning Charlotte to Planet Earth has to be seamless. She is the last hope of survival for humans.
Her mother tiptoes into the acclimating chamber. She gazes down at her 125.3-year-old sleeping daughter and kisses her cheek. This assignment is delicate, but Charlotte is prepared. She has diligently primed herself for the challenges she will face, and especially the opposition she will encounter from Sera.
Her adversary likes to destroy weaker beings. She thinks they are inferior and don’t deserve to exist. Like Charlotte, she is a 125.3-year-old beauty. Sera will be going to Earth as well, and also in human disguise.
Her single purpose is to eliminate humans. She’s been unimpressed with Charlotte’s idealistic optimism since they were children. That was long before Sera’s parents left Que to join a community of pessimists now living in Egrah, on the outskirts of Que, a mere thousand parsecs away.
Charlotte had to become familiar with, and knowledgeable about, earthling ways. She spent what would be one hour plus four minutes—according to human time measurements— studying human mannerisms, strengths, weaknesses, hopes, fears, aspirations, and dreams. She completed that lesson, correctly answering every question on the 11,722 pages of the examination test.
A team of technicians designed her body; human in every aspect but for the powerful physical abilities she has taken for granted all her life. These have been temporarily suppressed. Unlike her siblings, Charlotte will not be permitted to use her physical powers. But neither will Sera.
Charlotte stirs when she feels her mother’s kiss. “Dear daughter, Commander is waiting. You must come now.”
Charlotte rises from the human queen-sized bed assigned to her and prepares to accompany her mother to the conference section of the missions control center.
The For Planet Earth, FPE control center is self-contained. Most Queian operations utilize a cluster of huge rooms. But, for this small assignment, one room is sufficient. By Planet Earth dimensions, the FPE control center is sixty feet by one-hundred feet; approximately the size of the video scoreboard for the new Yankee stadium in the Bronx, a borough of New York City.
Technicians monitor the system while a computerized brain examines each component, instantaneously detecting, recording, and neutralizing unauthorized activities.
“Mother, my heart pounds with excitement. I want to do this assignment more than any I’ve ever done. I’ve studied the lives of countless oxygen breathing organisms, but none fascinate me as much as humans.
“I know they’re flawed creatures, so unintelligent that they smoke toxic tobacco leaves and willingly ingest harmful substances. They consume excessive volumes of unhealthy foods that make their bodies susceptible to diseases. Most of them only use a fraction of their brains. But, they will run into a burning building, jump into a raging river, and fight a wild animal to save another human, especially if that human is a child.
“Mother, in their rudimentary archives, I’ve seen them willingly remove coats from their own bodies and offer them to others less fortunate. I’ve watched men work so hard to provide for their families, that they could almost not continue to stand. I have seen hungry women starve so their children could have the food. I’ve watched children sit up all night with a sick domesticated pet, nursing it back to health. Humans write, sing, and dance. They are inspired and compelled to create expressive art.
“Like other primitive creatures, many are savages with selfserving natures. I know that many are apathetic and slothful. But, the majority of human beings, rich and poor, young and old, have compassionate hearts; they have courage in the face of adversity, and a will to survive. Mother, they are capable of being loving. How lovely it is that they can love! Some primitive beings have no capacity to love.”
Her mother kisses her again, “I know you will be victorious Charlotte. Come now, it is time.”
When they walk through the iridescent liquid-curtain of the conference section, the committee of transportation stops talking and waits for them to take their seats at the glittery star encrusted oval table. Charlotte sits between the Commander and her mother, across from her father.
The Commander squeezes her hand, “Child, if you wish to change your mind, you may without disgrace.”
He is her great grandfather’s brother, and Charlotte holds him in high esteem.
“I am eager to do this. I will try with the best of my ability to prevent Sera from destroying humans. She travels from Egrah to obliterate them. I will travel from Que to protect them from her cruel wrath.”
“Then you may go. Your siblings are already established in the city where you will live. The dwelling will comfortably accommodate the three of you. You are their older sister from France. For a year and a half you have worked as a ticket agent at the Statue of Liberty, and you are a part-time art teacher at Amme’s school. You know the rest of your assignment. “Remember, FPE requires that humans must save themselves. You and Sera will mutually select the location for the test and devise a scenario that will unfold naturally. I must warn you Charlotte. You cannot assist the humans. Sera cannot hinder them. This battle between you and Sera must be resolved with a human-nature test. We are confident that you will persevere. Be confident child.”
A yellow taxi slows to a crawl, and the driver cranes his neck to give Charlotte a look. She waves the cabbie on and then glances at her attire. She is wearing sandals; the flowing skirt of the variegated green dress falls to her ankles, and a matching shawl drapes around her shoulders. Upon her head is a fogcolored felt hat with a circle of seven embroidered points on the crown. In her left hand is a college law textbook. Her right hand clutches a Nitecore Extreme flashlight.
She walks into a café and purchases a bottle of water. That is when she notices that the technicians have painted her fingernails with bronze colored nail polish. She is thankful for their attention to detail. She has copper-colored hair because the Statue of Liberty is a copper clad statue. It is an honor to be made in such an admirable image.
It is believed that the Statue of Liberty’s face was modeled after the sculptor’s mother. Frédéric Auguste Bartholdi’s mother was named Charlotte.
Charlotte gazes at the clerk, who is intent on giving her a once over. He sees a tall young woman with mild blue-green eyes and long wavy hair. From her clothes, she supposes that he will assume she’s an artsy type, perhaps a musician, painter, or a poet. Yes, she decides with a faint smile, she surely looks like an eccentric artist with a French accent.
It is dusk on November 30th. Near the street corner, Charlotte recognizes the restaurant where Zarey will work. As she walks, she passes the high school where she will teach art classes, and where Amme will be a student. When she strolls into the lobby of the building where she will live, the doorman tips his hat, and then his face relaxes.<
br />
“Hello, Mr. Woodmere. How are you this evening?” “Just fine Charlotte. Zarey and Amme got home a little while ago.”
Charlotte nods, “Oh yes, Zarey took Amme to the Statue of Liberty today. I bought them tickets.”
She pauses, “Mr. Woodmere, will you donate this to a library for me?”
Mr. Woodmere takes the hefty book, pushes the elevator button, and then steps aside. “Certainly, it’s my pleasure.”
“Have a good evening Mr. Woodmere.”
“And a good evening to you too, Charlotte.”
She has memorized Earth’s history and all the laws humans have ever created. She doesn’t need a law book. But, she’ll keep the interesting flashlight. It may come in handy.
Charlotte inserts her key and unlocks the apartment door.
Zarey is cooking something that smells delicious. Amme is setting the table for three and shrieks with delight at the sight of her.
“Zarey, she’s here. Charlotte’s here!”
The merchants have swept the slushy snow away from their buildings. Every shop window is decorated with glowing lights, wrapped gifts, colorful ornaments, garlands, and tinsel. Many of the bedazzling displays have Christmas trees, candy canes, and Santa elves. Charlotte, Zarey, and Amme have been in New York City, according to human time measurements, for twentyfour days and they have enjoyed becoming friends with humans.
Sera, on the other hand, is disgusted that she has been required to live in this revolting city for twenty-four days. She has despised every moment. She is homesick for Egrah and she loathes human beings. Why Charlotte cares about even one is beyond her comprehension.
What’s the point? So many are unproductive losers, users, and abusers, and they’re always on the lookout for the next person to take advantage of. Sure, some are decent enough. The rest are decayed.
She has selected her subject; a homeless man who she believes will help her triumph over Charlotte. His name is Thomas, but his sickly mother, a lonely widow, refers to him as Buddy when she talks about him—an affectionate nickname from when he was her precious boy. The last time he visited his mother he stole her money, her late husband’s wedding band, and her father’s antique gold pocket watch. That visit was a long time ago.
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