by T. R. Harris
I watched as Jonathan’s mouth fell open even more and his eyes grew large, and then he slowly reached out his hand toward Bill’s face. “Can I touch you?”
“Jonathan, you’re being rude,” Jennifer said as she reached out to intercept Jonathan’s thin hand.
“It is quite acceptable, Mrs. Wilson,” Bill said. “I would be just as curious if my race had not had generations of experience with other species.”
Jonathan ran his fingers over the small knobs forming Bill’s skin. “They’re soft! I thought they’d be hard.”
“If they were hard, I would have difficulty speaking or making expressions – like this.” The alien opened his eyes wide and stretched out a toothy grin easily ten inches wide.
Bill then patted the precocious nine-year-old on the head and straightened up. “My friend, Jason King, I must attend to my duties. Mrs. Wilson – and family – I hope you find success in your search for a home. And if you do change your mind about living outside the city boundaries, I am sure you will find Zanzibar to be an acceptable substitute. I will see you for the game, Jason.”
Chapter 5
After Bill left, I was able to herd the Wilson family through the flow of pedestrian traffic on the landing and out the terminal building to my waiting van. The vehicle was large enough to accommodate the entire family, and as we climbed in, I made a conscious effort not to let my eyes linger too long on the beautiful Miranda Moore. If anything was going to happen between us, it would come later, after I completed my professional duties.
As always, my first priority was to make money, and I didn’t want to jeopardize that by coming off as some sex-crazed male who couldn’t think beyond his penis. However, in the presence of the alluring Miranda Moore, I was having a hard time maintaining the façade – the façade of not being a sex-crazed male who couldn’t think beyond his penis. And for that, I placed the blame squarely on Miranda – and her dark, mischievous eyes.
**********
Before leaving the vast parking structure at the terminal, I showed Jennifer pictures of the homes I’d selected for her on my datapad. None of them seemed to excite her very much, although she was polite enough to point out the positives in all of them. She did this more for the benefit of the children, even though I could tell she was disappointed.
“This one has a nice bathroom.”
Only half the homes we’ll see today have Human-acceptable bathrooms.
“The bedrooms in this one are really huge.”
They should be. The home was built for creatures resembling Minotaurs, standing six feet tall at the shoulders.
“This one is next to a park.”
Eventually, I’d have to let her know that it’s not so much a park … as a hunting preserve. And not hunting with guns, but with claws and teeth. It was a nice place to look at, but you wouldn’t want to go in there – ever!
We pulled out of the terminal complex and merged onto a familiar looking freeway – ribbons they were called here – with an abundance of traffic. Jennifer Wilson sat in the passenger seat next to me, while Miranda had taken a spot in the center of the wide seat behind me, flanked by young Melissa and the curious Jonathan Wilson.
The morose and pre-occupied Heather Wilson sat in the third row seat by herself, engrossed in the smartphone she’d barely pulled her attention from since first walking off the shuttle. I had no idea who she was communicating with. Even though alien telecom technology was beyond imagination, it still didn’t offer texting service across twenty thousand light-years. I knew her actions were just a way for the sixteen-year-old to deal with all she’d left behind on Earth. The move must have been especially traumatic for her.
The first home I had to show them was fifteen minutes away, so I passed the time getting Jennifer to tell me more about what she was looking for in a home. We’d been over this before, but it really looked like she needed to talk. Alien-Regret-Syndrome was beginning to set in.
“All I’m really looking for is a place that’s functional for us as Humans. As you know, I was in the Corps when I was younger. I ended up marrying another diplomat and that’s when I had my children. After the divorce, I met Mark when we were both in South Africa, and we’ve been married a little over a year now. I’m telling you this because I want you to know we’re not afraid of new things or new places.”
I nodded. “I understand, however this is your first assignment off-planet, isn’t it?”
“That’s right, but we’ve served in eight countries back on Earth, and have encountered a lot of strange cultures.”
I nodded again. I’d also spent much of my military career in foreign countries, but no matter how alien they appeared to be on the surface, the one thing they all had in common was that they were populated by other Humans. They may dress differently, speak a different language, and even have a different skin color, but they were all Human.
What Jennifer Wilson and her family were about to experience went far beyond anything they could expect from internet searches or even possibly running into a few aliens back on Earth. Even the space station where they had come from this morning was segregated, mainly by gravity and atmosphere requirements. The half-hour drop in the shuttle to the surface – squeezed in next to a myriad of other creatures – had been their first real encounter with what was to come.
Just wait until they witness first-hand how some of these aliens live within their homes. From years of experience, I carried a ready supply of barf-bags with me at all times, just in case.
The next few hours would be an eye-opening immersion course in alien cultures, consisting of a mixture of species that had spent hundreds of years interacting with one another. Humans were new on the scene, and we still had a hell of a lot to learn.
**********
I saw Miranda looking at me through the rearview mirror; her dark eyes locked on mine and wouldn’t let go. Only Jennifer’s exhalation at a near-collision with an alien truck-like-thing snapped me out of the trance.
Hell, I guess there’s no avoiding it.
“So Miranda, you’ve come a long way for an internship, haven’t you?”
She flashed a brilliant smile at me, made even brighter by the bronze tone of her skin. She was a total contrast to her blonde-haired, fair-skinned cousin. “I suppose so,” she said, “but I just graduated with a Bachelor’s Degree in Galactic Affairs, so I’m really looking forward to it. I’ll be at the American Consulate.”
“Galactic Affairs; you can get a degree in that now?”
“It’s a new specialty, and I was in one of the first graduating classes at Long Beach State. The Consulate doesn’t know exactly where to put me – not yet – but I’m sure they’ll find a good place. After all, I come cheap.”
“If you need any help finding your way around, just let me know. I have a lot of friends at the Embassy, and it’s all part of the service.”
Damn, if that didn’t sound like some blatant come-on, then I don’t know what would!
I quickly turned my attention back to Jennifer before Miranda could respond. “I understand you’ll be staying at temp quarters in the Compound until you close on your home.”
“That’s right. I haven’t been to the Compound yet, but I’m told it’ll be all of us packed into a two bedroom apartment. Miranda’s getting a small studio of her own.”
“I wish they’d just let us stay there,” Heather Wilson said from the backseat, speaking for the first time.
“We’ve been over this before, Heather,” Jennifer said impatiently. “There’s no room for long-termers.”
“But then we’ll have to be bused to school.”
It was now my turn to offer some insight. After all, it was all part of the service – just like hitting on the hot cousin. “You’ll be going to either the Embassy school or out to one of the Enclave schools, depending on where we find you a home.”
Jennifer looked at me. “So you don’t have to live in the Enclaves to go to a community school?”
�
�They frown on it, but legally you can’t be turned away. It’s all part of the CC&R’s – excuse me: the Covenants, Conditions and Restrictions.”
“We’ve owned homes before, Jason. I know what CC&R’s are.”
So, it’s already come down to this?
As a way of feeling more in-control of her rapidly shattering reality, Jennifer Wilson was going to exert her so-called knowledge and expertise over me. Yes, she may have bought and sold a few homes in her lifetime, but I’ve done hundreds. So no matter how much she believed there was an equivalency in our respective experience, she was sorely mistaken. I tried hard not to smile, something that would have definitely made our working together that much more difficult.
“I apologize; of course you have.” I feigned my most sincere smile. “I didn’t mean to talk down to you.”
“I’m sure you didn’t,” she said, accepting my apology – kind of – while also confirming that she felt I had.
Just then I caught sight of Miranda Moore again in the mirror. Her eyes were laughing, not at me but at her cousin. I sent her a wink. And then much to my surprise – and relief – she winked back.
Chapter 6
Alien homes come in a variety of shapes, sizes and designs, ranging from the covered-over pits Jonk Limbor built, to nests made of flexible reeds and branches grown specifically for these structures. Finding properties compatible to Humans did limit my search, but not by much here in the galactic capital.
Most creatures advanced enough to have developed the technological and societal requirements necessary to be invited into the Union were mammals of basically the same design, the so-called Primes of the galaxy. These were generally two-legged, two armed beings having hands with opposable thumbs. In fact, it was the similarity of the hands that were the most-common feature among advanced species. It took a certain level of dexterity to create and operate complicated machinery and other devices. This also served to standardize most operating controls found throughout the Union.
Humans were not the most-adept at operating the trappings of modern interstellar technology, but we certainly didn’t have any problem with them either. During my time out in the galaxy, I’d run into a lot of different alien species, and I would have to place Humans within the top ten percent as the most-coordinated, quickest-thinking and even the strongest of all the races.
In fact, it seemed that the more advanced the species, the weaker and less-coordinated they appeared to be. This relative disadvantage may be why these particular races needed to invent such advanced mechanical, electronic and other artificial devices in the first place, just so they could do what came naturally to most Humans. At least that was the King Theory of Advanced Alien Design.
Look it up. It’s on the internet.
The first home we stopped at was located about six miles from the Embassy, and was a three-level stacked-box structure. The neighborhood couldn’t be classified as the most desirable on this side of the city, but it also wasn’t the worst. In fact, it reminded me of some of the Burroughs of New York City, only safer.
I used my standard lockbox key for entry. My key was actually a small electronic box with a keypad on which I could enter my specially-assigned code. The key was then placed inside a secure device on the door – the lockbox – that would then unlock it, giving us access. Lockboxes came in various models, depending on the value and security level of the home. This property ranked the lowest kind.
The first thing most people notice when entering an alien home is – of course – the smell. I’ve had many a conversation with my alien friends throughout the years, concerning the Human obsession with deodorant and perfumes. According to them, these add-ons actually cause a more offensive odor than without. I guess stink is in the nose of the smeller, and so I watched with amusement as the Wilson family exhibited some of the most horrific expressions I’d seen in quite a while as they entered the alien home.
All except Miranda. She seemed to take the sickening smells in stride, her eyes bright and inquisitive as she entered.
The occupants were at home – two bug-eyed, emaciated looking things about four-feet tall – and so Jennifer quickly took Jonathan by the hand and sent him a non-verbal order to keep his trap shut about the smell. To his credit, the boy was in too much shock to say a word in the presence of these truly strange-looking creatures.
Now I did my thing, efficiently guiding a tour of the three levels, being sure to spend a little too much time in the process. I could tell Jennifer was about to puke, which would have served my purpose if she had. I gripped the barf-bag in my pocket, just in case.
A half hour later we reentered the relative fresh air outside the home. I turned to Jennifer Wilson. “So what did you think? The home is over two thousand square feet and it’s only six miles from the Embassy, so the kids would go to Consulate schools.”
The slight green tint to Jennifer’s skin was slowly fading in the fresh air, but still her eyes expressed dismay. “It was nice, Jason. Certainly big enough for us, but I wasn’t too impressed with the kitchen. I didn’t see an oven.”
“You’d have to put one in yourself if you bought it. The current owners don’t cook their food….” I let the sentence trail off, allowing the Wilson family to take in all its implications.
“I see,” said Mrs. Wilson. “Then perhaps could we see some homes where they do cook their food?”
“Of course, the next one up, in fact; however, it’s the bathrooms that will need modification before you can live there. But it’s only seven-hundred eighty thousand, and has four thousand square feet.”
“Good. Please lead the way.”
The rest of the afternoon went pretty much like the first home, and by the time I dropped the family off at the Consulate Compound where they could claim their apartment, every one of them looked frazzled and dazed, again, all except Miranda.
I took her amused detachment to the whole day as a consequence of her temporary status on Sylox. She didn’t need to make the decisions for the family, so she wasn’t feeling any of the pressure her cousin was experiencing. This made Miranda appear confident and strong – unfortunately two of the most-appealing traits I find in a woman. Plus, of course, that undeniable sexual presence that could launch me into song, if I could sing a lick. Looking at Miranda Moore, I’d be tempted to try.
And now as she walked away from the van, Miranda turned and waved at me. I jerked my hand up a little too quickly and sent her a silly, schoolboy grin.
Damn, I could tell this woman was going to be trouble.
Just at that time had no idea how much.
**********
Two days later I took the family out again, this time with Mark Wilson tagging along. I say tagging along because he seemed very distracted the whole day, nodding and grunting as we toured four alien homes.
The day went pretty much like the first – except poor Melissa Wilson did throw up at one of the homes. But she only did it once, which was saying something considering what we saw. Hell, in one of the homes, even I had trouble holding back the hurl!
Yet for the already shell-shocked Jennifer Wilson, once was one too many. I had a fifth home to show them, yet after the disaster at number four, Jennifer shook her head and said that was it, she was done.
Her husband Mark then told her that whatever she wanted, he was okay with it.
“The Enclaves?” I asked.
“The Enclaves.” Jennifer concurred.
And that was that. After two days of traipsing through alien filth, I was finally on my way to getting serious about finding the Wilsons a home – and about earning my lofty commission. Now, as I drove back to the Zanzibar Enclave, I was almost tempted to call the Noreen starship dealer and place the order, but I knew I still had a little work to do, plus the escrow period. I put the temptation out of my mind, and instead began to concentrate on tonight’s game.
It would be the first in a while with Bill back in the lineup, and since we were only a game out of first, I was worri
ed. But what the hell, it’s only a softball game, right? My mind was already somewhere off in the stars, at the controls of my very own starship Enterprise.
Or more like one of the shuttles off the Enterprise, I conceded.
Either way, I could play Captain Kirk to my heart’s content, and boldly go where no one has gone before – no one except about a thousand alien races before me.
Chapter 7
My third showing to the Wilson clan was the first in the Enclaves, and the day before, Miranda called me with a list of properties she had found online. I’m always upset when an online search is provided for me, since I don’t like the idea of third-parties – or even my customers – doing the selecting for me. I know the inventory better, and besides, I have a showing strategy I often employ that produces a much higher conversion rate than simply showing a bunch of homes at random. But since this list was coming from Miranda, I held my tongue. I was just happy to hear her sexy, accented voice.
“The Hillcrest property, really?” I said, looking over the list she’d emailed me. “That’s pretty far out of their price range.”
“It’s out of the range Jennifer has set, but not out of Mark’s. You do know he comes from a very wealthy family, don’t you? Actually, they made their money in real estate and construction, just like you.”
“I didn’t know that – not for sure – although I did sense a little of that on Jennifer’s part. I’ve only met Mark that one time two days ago.”
“Yeah, he’s rich, which is how he’s been able to spend most of his adult life working in the higher echelons of the Diplomatic Corps. That’s normally not the pursuit of the poor.”
The home on Hillcrest was my listing, which did offer the potential of a double-ender. And at the price of the listing, getting both the listing and selling sides of the transaction could be a huge payday.
