Alienation

by S E Anderson

  “Ah. Yeah, well, humans like pizzas, so they brought their pigs and cows and all that when they took to the stars. Makes sense, right?”

  “You're saying cows are spread across the universe because their meat tastes good?”

  “Yup, basically.” Zander shrugged and drank some more water. “And cheese! Though there are entire planets of people who are lactose intolerant. And we're going to need something to drink, aren't we?”

  Not space milk. “Um, sure.”

  He waved down the waiter, who rushed off to get us glasses of whatever Zander had ordered. But instead of returning to the conversation, he stared out the window, turning his gaze upward, toward the starless sky. Light pollution had wiped out any view of the universe, but that didn't stop him from squinting and staring.

  There was a longing in his eyes. An urge to move, to go, to be out there in that darkness. It was almost as if he were tethered to the table, and that was the only reason he wasn't zooming toward the sky right now.

  It was the same need I saw in him when he was stuck on Earth—the need to go, to move, to not be confined to just one rock. Part of him was permanently in that space. And he missed it.

  Not that he would tell me anything about that.

  “In any case,” he said, “count it as a blessing. As much as I'd encourage you to try new foods, there's always the possibility you won't be able to process anything here. Whatever you eat, better eat carefully.”

  I grinned. “Aye aye, Captain.”

  “I take you halfway across the universe, and you order pizza?”

  “Flatbread,” I said.

  “Same difference!”

  “Pizzas that have been made halfway across the universe. That's the coolest thing I've ever done yet.”

  “I'm not sure you'll be as impressed as you expect.”

  “I'll think of them as being made from space pork. I'll be fine. Anyway, what's the plan for after dinner?”

  “Well, I want to repay you for everything you did for me.” Zander’s smile seemed forced. Darkness crept into his tone but was quickly squashed out. “And Da-Duhui is the fashion capital of the Alliance, which is saying something since the last time I checked, there were over five hundred planets officially in the UPA. So, um, you want to go shopping?”

  I almost spat out my drink. “Shopping?”

  Zander didn't seem to know what had just happened; he looked as surprised as I felt. He squinted at me, tilting his head like a puppy.

  “Why not?” he sputtered. “Technology. Clothing. Entertainment. Look, I can only offer you a short time away from your solar system, and it feels like nothing compared to the hospitality you showed me. Go ahead, splurge. Take a bit of the universe home with you.”

  “You are one courageous man. You hated buying clothes back on Earth, and those were for you. Are you sure you can manage shopping with me? Won't you get bored?”

  “I've handled worse.” He chuckled. “Remember, I've spent the last—ahem—eternity living with my sister. Imagine her in a shop. She’ll wear clothes until they go rancid. I have to shove her into stores and not let her out until she’s bought something that isn’t made from rags.”

  “Then I would love to go shopping,” I said, and he beamed.

  The waiter returned with our food, huge steaming plates in hand. My mouth watered like someone had opened the floodgates. As he slipped them onto the table, I pondered how surreal this was. I didn't know what I expected; the plate in front of me was covered by a gorgeous pizza. The bread was darker than any crust I had ever seen, but everything else was spot-on familiar. The side of the plate was decorated with gray herbs that smelled like basil but looked like thyme. Rather than a side salad, there was a small pile of sliced blue, apple-like fruit with ultramarine skin and azure flesh. Beautifully alien.

  Zander had ordered what looked like tempura, though each vegetable was larger than the size of my hand. Not that I recognized all the vegetables under the thick layer of bread. Some of them were round, some were star shaped, even triangular. The smell wafting off them was salty and sweet all at once.

  “You know, it tastes better if you actually eat it,” Zander suggested. “Taste buds are in your mouth, not your eyes.”

  “Good point.”

  He picked up one of the smaller veggies, the one shaped like star fruit, and popped it into his mouth, chewing away happily. For a minute, his tense exterior melted away and his muscles relaxed, pure bliss glowing behind his eyes.

  I grabbed the first of my slices and pulled it away from the rest. The cheese wasn’t stringy, and it came away easily. The smell was different, saltier somehow.

  Any resemblance it had with pizzas back home ended the moment the juicy bite filled my mouth. My eyes closed as the sheer joy of the flavor overwhelmed me. It had a sweet, fruity quality to it, the taste so different, and, yet, so perfect. Little hints of sourness lingered in my mouth and tickled my tongue.

  I needed more.

  I gulped down the first slice then tackled the second one. Every bite was ecstasy.

  Soon, they were all gone, leaving their tangy flavor in my mouth. I wiped my mouth down with a napkin, grabbed the excess sauce and gulped that down as well. How had that mess gotten there? I’d never been a messy eater, but I guess space pizza changes people.

  I was out of breath. Zander stared at me, wide-eyed. He had only eaten a little of his basket since we had stopped talking. Just how fast had I scarfed down my food?

  And why was I craving more?

  “Sally?” Zander said, waving his hand in front of me. How many times had he called my name? I saw him through a fog, but I couldn’t pull myself out of it.

  “What?” I said, dazed, licking the leftover sauce from my fingers, pulling them through my mouth slowly, catching every last drop.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Never better. Stop asking!”

  I would have smiled, only I was too busy trying to soak up the spots of sauce left on the napkin. I could have eaten the entire thing. Everything else seemed out of focus and unimportant. I needed that sauce more than anything else in the world.

  Zander waved his hand again but not at me this time. He was trying to grab the waiter’s attention, I think. Why did I care? The man fluttered to our table, sliding to Zander's side and beaming down.

  “How was your meal?” he asked, all smiles. Zander's expression was cold and anxious.

  “Delicious,” I replied for him. “Absolutely sensational!”

  “I'm glad to hear it,” the waiter said as he turned toward me. “Can I get you anything else?”

  “Oh, yes, please. I need another order of flatbread. And then I need as much as you can make, to go. Do you do to go on this side of the galaxy? Or is that rude? Anyway, I am starving. Can I get a doggy bag too? Do you do doggy bags? How many flatbreads can I buy at once?”

  My stomach growled, pleading for more. I was lost in the fog, and my only release was to eat more slices. I had a need, an uncontrollable desire for those pizzas, for the alien food gripping my stomach and making it speak for me.

  It was the only clear thought in my mind: more. Nothing else made any sense. I couldn't even see the restaurant anymore; my vision narrowed on my empty plate, but I didn’t care.

  Zander stared at me, not just anxious but full-on scared. He didn't even make eye contact with the waiter as he spoke. His voice was cold and clear, like a general giving a command.

  “Please bring us the bill,” he said, his voice carrying no emotion. “We'll have no more pizzas. But the food was wonderful, that's for sure.”

  “Would you like me to pack up your own food for you, sir?”

  “No, we need to go,” he said, handing the man the silver square he had used to pay for the taxi.

  “But I need more flatbread,” I whined, the words spilling out of my mouth before my mind had even processed them. My mind was no longer in charge. It would be offline for the rest of the night, by the looks of things.


  Some part of me was still fighting for control. I felt my hands reaching for the glass of water, trying to bring it to my face, but I could barely hold it. My hands wouldn’t respond; my fingers refused to twist around the barrel. Instead, my head moved closer to the plate, ready to lick it clean.

  “Huh, this is the sixth time this week I’ve seen this,” the waiter said, scratching his earlobe. “The flatbreads have become very popular of late.”

  The waiter took the card and processed it through the watch gizmo on his wrist.

  Zander's face shot up to look at him, glaring. “What's happening to her?”

  “Not to worry, sir. Everyone else was fine within a few minutes.” The waiter seemed unfazed. “It's just a question of letting the brain calm down. Your friend will be fine. Our chef is very good.”

  “Is she in danger?”

  “Oh, come on,” the waiter scoffed, “We're a Da-Duhuian hotspot. We don't let bad things happen to our customers. We have some fabulous secret ingredients that might react weirdly with some subspecies, but they’re harmless overall. We've had no complaints. Think of it as part of the experience.”

  “You should put a warning on your menu.” Zander took his card back. He put it in the inner pocket of his new old coat, not breaking eye contact with me the whole time.

  “We did, sir. What did you think all those cartoons were for?”

  I licked the plate, screaming inside, filled with shame and embarrassment, but I couldn't stop. It was an animal drive, a primal drive, a craving I needed to fill.

  “Sir, did you assault the cartoons? They will not be helpful if you assault them.”

  Zander helped me stand, but my hands grabbed for the tablecloth and held on tight. He reached to unclasp one fist, and I elbowed him in the stomach, forcing the wind out of his lungs.

  I wanted to scream that I was sorry, but I wasn’t in control. Zander said nothing as he grasped me around the waist and gave me a sharp tug, so fast I ripped the tablecloth from the table without anything spilling.

  A few patrons oohed and ahhed, clicking their tongues and clapping.

  My fists dropped the tablecloth and turned their wrath on Zander, swinging wildly. My body reeled, not even trying to listen to what I was telling it to do. My feeble screams inside my head saying Stop, stop, stop!

  I kept fighting him, trying to get his arms off me. The part of me that wanted pizzas saw him as a threat. As hard as I tried, though, I couldn’t shake him off.

  “Let me go!”

  “No, you calm down first,” he said in that same commanding voice, better suited for a battlefield than a bar.

  “Not until I get my pizzas!” My foot collided with my chair, and it toppled over. The waiter rolled his eyes again, setting the chair back up.

  “Come again!” the waiter said, shooting a wink at Zander, who flushed a deep red as he dragged me out of the restaurant.

  Outside, the air was much cooler, and as we stepped into it, it was as if nature itself had slapped me.

  “Breathe,” Zander said.

  This time, there was enough of me aware to do what he asked. My body calmed. Slowly, he let go of me, and I staggered away from him, trembling and ashamed.

  “I’m done asking if you’re all right, but … are you?”

  I let out a loud groan, clutching my head.

  “What the … what was that?” I leaned on a patio chair to steady myself. He patted me awkwardly on the back.

  “Right, apparently some food hits you strongly,” he said, and a smile crept onto his features.

  “Ugh.” I shook my head. This wasn't pretty. People were looking at me through the restaurant window; I think a cloud of gas was outright staring, but it had no eyes so I wasn't sure. “Don't laugh.”

  “I wouldn't dare,” Zander said, punctuating the sentence with a short chuckle. I glared at him. “Feeling better?”

  “Yeah, I think so.” I wiped the palms of my hands against my eyes, hoping it would drag the drowsiness out of them. “Let's get away from this place. Please?”

  “I know just where to go.” He held out his hand.

  ***

  The universe is big. Freakishly big. It's the biggest thing we know, right?

  I had been grass fed Star Trek and Doctor Who. I had grown up dying for adventure and wanting space. Needing space. Feeling a deep sense of emptiness when I realized I was earthbound for the rest of my life. I felt astrolust to my core.

  So when Zander had said, “Hey, Sally, want to go on a quick trip to see the universe?” I had jumped at the chance. Of course I had. But I had expected a lot more running.

  And not so much shopping.

  I had nothing against shopping, though I found it hard back home when money had been tight for the longest time. There was something magical about finding the perfect pair of shoes, feeling like Cinderella when you slipped your foot into it and it felt like it was made for you. Or when you put on a pair of jeans and suddenly, bam, you had legs.

  I had definitely never intended to shop on another planet. And never had I expected it to be such a blast.

  We wandered around the shops, and I ran into most of them, looking at their gadgets and admiring technology light-years ahead of my own. I tried on shoes with heels that adjusted to your feet, both around the foot itself and for height. You could adjust how tall you were with a series of confusing clicks, but it was impressive all the same.

  Also, they had heels here?

  It wasn't the main fashion, though. Most people wore loose sandals. Many were platformed with straps that were one continuous piece of material you had to wrap around your foot and leg in a certain way to keep the shoe from falling off. The feathered people, the Macreneens, had talon-like feet, so they covered their nails in individual, brightly colored socks.

  “You know, you are allowed to treat yourself,” Zander joked, patting his breast pocket where the card was kept. “There's no weight limit on this interstellar flight.” I laughed, but he was completely serious. “Come on, I owe you.”

  “For what?” I asked, “You used your own money on Earth. I didn't lend you anything; I had nothing to lend.”

  “You looked out for me. You helped me in every way I can think of. When I leave ... I want to make sure you're good, too.”

  My heart did a weird belly flop in my ribcage. Those were words I didn't want to hear.

  “Right. Not what we're going to think about tonight,” he said. “Come on, let's have a great evening, okay?”

  “Oh, I'm fine,” I said quickly. I wasn’t lying. My stomach had felt weird after dinner; it was the perfect diversion. “It's just ... my stomach is acting weird.”

  “Really?” Zander's face fell, his smile fading into a frown. I didn’t like it. “Is it because of the pizza?”

  “Maybe.” I shrugged. “I'll be fine. You're right. We should just enjoy this.”

  “Great. Let's go!”

  He grabbed my hand and dragged me forward. I laughed as I followed him, and we ran through the streets, deeper and deeper into the city, getting lost as we went.

  “Pick a store, any store,” Zander said. “Actually, close your eyes and pick at random.”

  I closed my eyes, giggling as I spun around then stopped, dizzy, in the middle of the street and of Zander's laughter. My head spinning, I staggered forward, somehow finding a door and pushing it open. It let out a little chime, a rainstick made of bells.

  As the dizziness left my head, I realized we were in a small dress shop, a room a little bigger than my apartment back home. Every wall was covered in fabrics with fancy prints, woven with strands of gold to highlight the designs. Deep violets and reds with a bright brocade looked down at me.

  I ran my hand over the fabric. It was soft like silk but thicker, though this didn't make it any heavier. I looked up at Zander, who shrugged in response to the silent question.

  “Hello, hello,” came a sing-song voice from the back. A woman entered the room—a woman with eight eyes on her dark
face. She wore a large, thick orange wrap around her head, which only accented her slender neck. This almost distracted from the extra pair of arms right below the first pair.

  But as she came out and laid eyes on us, she froze. Well, when she laid eyes on Zander, I assumed. The two stared at each other in silence. Zander's face lit up with recognition, but the woman shook her head, jutting her chin in the direction of a small robot who sat on the counter beside her. The robot studied Zander as intently as she did, though being a robot, one could never be sure just how intent it intended to be. Zander’s face dropped.

  “Pleased to meet you,” the woman said, ignoring the short repartee, as if that moment had happened in a frozen piece of time. “I am Tchilla, dressmaker to the stars. No matter how many arms, legs, appendages, or feathers you have, I can make you look fabulous. Are you looking for yourself or for a friend?”

  “We're looking for Sally today,” Zander said, unfazed. “I already have what I need. What do you recommend?”

  “Ah, yes, a human?” she asked, nodding. I couldn't help but stare at those dark eyes of hers, eight great, black opals that reflected my body as she took me in, shifting through the colors of an oil slick. “Come here, human. I have just the thing.”

  She hustled me into a changing room and tossed me something thick and purple. It didn't look like a dress, and I couldn't find the neck.

  Tchilla spoke of her home planet, a place I had never heard of, stringing poetry along with her memories of the purple skies of home and massive wild plants that roamed the great planes. All her wares were made of a sturdy silken fabric, a by-product of these gigantic plants, which took years to produce, apparently, but the end result would last forever.

  I stepped out, and she laughed gently then pushed me back into the changing room. In seconds, her four hands had deftly fixed my mistake. She showed me how to drape the fabric, by wrapping the ends over my shoulders and then around my waist.

  “I'm telling you, this dress can fit any number of arms,” she said, “and it will make you look amazing, too.”

  And it really did.

  “You see, my dear,” Tchilla said sweetly, as she tucked the ends into the sleeves, “the perfect dress isn't the one you beat into submission. The perfect dress is the one that tells you just how much it wants to be worn by you. A partner, not a slave.”