Eyes Love & Water

by Pamela Foland

  “I couldn't possibly do anything to something that smells that good which could make it taste as bad as that last meal,” Miranda replied.

  The woman chuckled, “While probably true, let’s not chance it just now.” The woman bent down and stirred the stew. “It'll be ready soon. How are you feeling this afternoon?”

  Miranda paused and took stock of herself before answering, “Much better.”

  “Good, good. If you need to relieve yourself, the collection pot is over there.” The woman gestured toward a half wall that created an area of privacy in one corner beneath a glowing glass globe. “When you're done, dump it in the sludge pot.”

  At the suggestion, Miranda found she did have an urgent need. She went to the cubicle and noted the pot and a box with wadded plant fibers. She squatted and took care of her business. Then Miranda searched for anything, which could be construed as a sludge pot.

  “What is a sludge pot?”

  “Hanging over your head,” The woman jabbed with a ladle toward the glowing globe, “Oh yeah, you can wash with the water in that skin, but try to make sure it makes it into the collection pot.” Miranda dumped the pot into the globe and then washed. The deposit made the globe glow even brighter. “Good now get over here and eat some stew. You may be feeling better but you aren't all the way better yet.”

  Miranda complied and accepted the bowl and spoon offered. She returned to her sleeping place to eat, settling gracefully to the floor. She sat there for a minute just smelling the stew. If the smell was honest, then the stew probably tasted better than anything Miranda had ever eaten. Still, Miranda didn't eat.

  The woman finished dishing her own bowl then tore off two hunks of bread from a round loaf kept in a covered ceramic jar. The woman brought the food over and sat near Miranda. “I promise it tastes better than the last stuff.” She tucked a hunk of bread into Miranda's untouched bowl.

  “Why are you helping me?”

  The woman shoveled food into her mouth for a while then stopped. “I get lonely. Petrigrine and Itona are good company but they don't exactly hold down conversations well. Always with them it's hunger or thirst or sleep or how hot they feel.” Miranda stared down at the stew; she knew feeling uncomfortable, hot and thirsty. “My question for you is how you ended up needing my help.”

  “The Dark One wanted me to do a thing. I didn't want to. So, I stole a skip space shuttle, got caught in a wormhole, and crashed in the desert.”

  The woman sat for a while, digesting Miranda's answer and slurping in the stew. “That last bit was a bad choice, a landing would have been much wiser.” The woman finally said rising to refill her bowl.

  “It wasn't exactly a choice. The shuttle was damaged in the escape from the compound.”

  “That should be mentioned in your first telling. It is information important to the listener. Also, what did the dark one want you to do?” The woman lectured ladling the stew into the bowl. When Miranda opened her mouth to answer, the woman held up her hand, “No, wait until your audience is settled before you start. Otherwise, they could miss a crucial bit.”

  So Miranda waited, the woman moved slowly to her place. Miranda finally took the time to sample the stew. The first bite erupted in ecstasy on her tongue. The meat almost didn't need chewed, yet it was distinct. The formless nutrient slurries she was used to, had been palatable but this food was wonderful. She could tell the difference, finally, between real meat and artificial meat-like flavor. Spoonful after spoonful, found their way to Miranda's mouth without her conscious guidance. She first nibbled at the bread, then devoured it, using it to sop up the gravy of the stew. Miranda was finished and quite full before she knew she had started.

  The old woman stood over Miranda and exchanged bowl for mug, “It’s just tea, not drugged.”

  Miranda took the tea amazed at how absorbed she had become in the workings of her taste buds. The woman had already eaten her second helping. Miranda watched her take both sets of dishes over to the small kitchen area and set them down. She briefly wondered if somehow the woman had known exactly how to get Miranda to eat. The woman quickly settled herself next to Miranda.

  “All right, I believe you were about to tell more of what the dark wanted you to do.”

  Miranda sipped at the lightly fragrant tea, “The Dark One wanted me to kill a man, but when I saw him, I just couldn't. His eyes, held something so…,” A deep sigh escaped when Miranda fell into the memory of his eyes.

  “If the dark one wanted you to do things you could not do, then what were you doing there in the first place?”

  “I don't know. I was just always there.” Miranda answered shrugging away from the memories of her childhood.

  “Always?” Barbs from the woman's deceptively innocent question caught in Miranda's thoughts. Miranda felt like a fish in which the hook had just been set with a painful jarring. Had it really been always? Silence prevailed.

  “No, maybe I remember somewhere else, with people who looked at me with the same things in their eyes as Ben. Then they were gone, or maybe I was.”

  “Sounds like they loved you.” The woman said, landing the fish and causing Miranda to realize she had spoken aloud a thought she had never before admitted.

  “What is that?” Miranda growled sarcastically, trying to protect herself from the woman and the memory. She tried to deny to herself that she was as hungry for that thing as she had been for the stew.

  “Acceptance, trust, knowing that they are there for you no matter what. Love is harder to define than the difference between good and evil. Maybe it is what the water is. Either way it was a very good story, although you didn't tell it properly. Next time you really should begin with the beginning. Humph, I wonder how it ends.” The woman flippantly responded before rising to step outside.

  Miranda rose to follow, bringing her mug. She shoved aside the heavy weighted flap of hide covering the door. The doorway turned out to be the beginning of a bent tunnel. It went straight for several feet then turned sharply, followed by another stretch of straight tunnel followed by a bend in the other direction. The tunnel's shape was probably meant to keep windblown sand from getting into the living area. Miranda followed the tunnel until past a heavy door it opened out in the desert.

  The woman stood to the left of the exit staring at a bank of clouds on the horizon. The bird-like creature shuffled around pecking at a bush a few feet from the opening. Beyond the animal was an expanse of parched ground, traced with cracks filled with the dust of many parched months. The land held few plants and most were withered, feinting death. In the distance, sand sculpted towers and arches of stone poked up through dunes. It was hot, and the black of her uniform made it seem hotter.

  Contemplating a retreat back into the shelter, Miranda turned and looked back to see the shape of the dwelling she had just left. All there was to make out was the last few feet of the arched stone tunnel, and the tubular chimney from the stove. A sand dune obscured the rest of the structure.

  “A storm is coming. We should go back inside.” The woman said.

  Miranda turned rapidly to face the woman. “A sandstorm?”

  “No, a rainstorm.”

  “Then, I'd like to stay out. I've never seen a real rainstorm.” Miranda inhaled deeply noting the slight electric difference to the air.

  “Of course you can, but first we should go inside and get some containers to catch the water. It could be a long time before we get more rain here, and you have been a bit of a drain on my resources.”

  Miranda nodded and followed the woman inside to a shelf a short way down the tunnel, which held stacks of shallow trays. The woman relieved Miranda of her cup and handed her an armful of trays. Then she shooed Miranda back outside. Once outside Miranda held the trays and waited. When the woman emerged with her own armload of trays, and began laying them out on the sand, Miranda followed by laying out her trays. Miranda and the woman went back for more trays several times covering much of the parched ground in front of the tun
nel and part of the dune.

  After all the work seemed finished, Miranda was grateful to notice the temperature had dropped significantly. Searching for the cause of the cooling, Miranda found herself looking up into a clouded sky. A large blob of wetness splattered on her cheek. She blinked and fingered the moistness. Around her, she heard the sounds of droplets meeting the trays. Plunks, plips, and plops sounded in a rhythmic type of music.

  “I'm going in out of the rain. I don't really like being soaked, that's why I live in a desert,”

  The woman said smiling at Miranda.

  “All right,” Miranda responded plopping her butt down into the sand to watch the show. She turned her face up to the cloud and opened her mouth trying to catch a droplet fresh from the sky. She heard the woman chuckle and the shluf-shluf of the woman returning to the structure. Then it was silent save for the rain. A fat droplet hit Miranda's tongue. It tasted fresh with a touch of ozone.

  Miranda closed her eyes, savoring the raindrop, and missing the flash of lightning. Abruptly a metallic boom vibrated through her and the air. She flicked her eyes back open in time to see a second electric crack in the clouds. When the subsequent boom sounded, she was less surprised. Around her raindrops splashed and sloshed into the pans at a much faster rate. Sopping wet hair clung to her head and neck, but Miranda’s uniform shed the water leaving the rest of her mostly dry.

  Miranda laid back into the sand, still sun warm, and let the cool drops pitter pat onto her. Around her, the rain music grew, punctuated by the thunder. It was all so natural, and so clean. She marveled at how different it was from The Dark and let it soothe her. This was something she didn't hesitate to let near her deep self. More relaxed than ever, Miranda felt her eyes drooping. She didn't fight it as the rain sang her to sleep.

  Miranda awoke to the sound of water sloshing from one container to another. The air was full of conflicting smells, clean with a hint of mint and chlorophyll just the sweet side of mold and mildew. The rain had washed the dusty smell right out of the air. It washed her too. For the first time she felt clean and free of the filth of her childhood. She opened her eyes to a brilliant purple red sunset. The woman stood near a large bucket filling it with water from the trays.

  “Good, you're finally awake. Now you can help.” The woman waved Miranda towards an empty bucket near some still full trays.

  Miranda rose and began filling the bucket. Then she followed the woman inside. She lifted the lid from a rimmed hole in the floor just outside the main living area. Then the woman poured her bucket in. From the sound of the falling water, Miranda could tell that the hole led to a big tank, and that it was about half full. Miranda dumped her bucket. Then they went back for more. After a few trips more with water and then several with the empty trays, they were finished.

  “I've seen a lot of people fall asleep during a rainstorm, but you were the first that fell asleep out in the rain.” The woman said handing Miranda two bowls.

  “It was just so pretty, and relaxing that I couldn't help it.” Miranda shrugged.

  The woman took a bowl and began filling it with the leftover stew. “It tastes twice as good the second time.” Miranda exchanged bowls then sat to eat.

  - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

  “Here we are,” Niri announced pressing her thumb firmly to an elevator button, after having led Ben through a maze of corridors and large halls. “I'm putting you in with the fourth years, because they get bedrooms and baths of their own. You'll share the common rooms but that isn't so bad.” The elevator finally swished open and Niri motioned Ben to enter.

  When Ben didn't enter the elevator, she went forward without him. He silently followed her. She tapped the pad for a much lower level. Then Niri began humming some version of elevator music, since the elevator had none of its own. The elevator moved silently coming to a stop and cutting Niri's humming off abruptly.

  Niri stepped out into a combined living, dining and kitchen room. Short hallways radiated out from both of the sidewalls. The corners were each set up for a different activity. The first corner held a display screen and lounge furniture. The second corner held a small library of books and what looked like CD cases. The third corner held a small shower like enclosure with a glass door and an obscure control panel. “ small galley style kitchenette took up the fourth corner. Niri went straight for the hallway between the lounge and the library. Hesitantly Ben followed.

  Four doors opened out of the hall and Niri stopped in front of the first on the right hand side. “Put your palm to the panel.” Niri directed Ben to a glossy square slightly raised from the surface of the wall.

  When Ben complied he greeted by a composite feminine voice, “Welcome to your quarters, please state your name, age and place of birth.”

  Ben lanced a raised eyebrow at Niri who giggled in response, “Well, aren't you going to tell it Ben?”

  Ben turned back to face the door, “I'm, Benjamin Oliver Kindel, age 27, and I was born in Denver, Colorado.”

  “Thank you Benjamin Oliver Kindel. Do you prefer a nickname?” The voice responded.

  “Uh, yeah, usually I go by Ben.” The door slid open revealing a comfortably sized bedroom. Niri began poking him in the ribs trying to prod Ben into the room but he waited to see if the voice had any more questions.

  “Preference noted. Voice imprint complete. Ben I am now your personal data organization program. You may name me if you choose, or address me as Room. If you would prefer to modify my interface you may do that at anytime.” The voice informed him.

  “Thank you.” Ben told the panel. Then he stepped into the room to escape Niri's prodding finger. He was instantly impressed. It was large for a bedroom. The wall to the right of the door held a smaller version of the lounge screen centered the wall above a desk and chair. The wall opposite the door held a built in bed nook and cupboard doors. The wall to the left of the door held a bank of drawers, shelves and the bathroom door.

  “Well, what do you think?”

  The thought that came to Ben's mind was that he'd never manage to maintain it, but rather than say that he let out an unenthusiastic, “It's clean.” He watched Niri practically deflate, “Hey if you saw my apartment you'd understand my reaction.”

  “Every single male has a sty of an apartment, but no need to worry it isn't too hard to keep up. With the proper codes, it takes care of itself. Yo Room, initiate Niri elf protocols please.” With Niri's last seven words, the lights dimmed briefly.

  “Scan complete, Ben you may request I clean up around here at any time.” The Room informed.

  “It just scanned the position of everything in the room, it has registered this as the proper location of all non-living objects. On command, it teleports everything back to where it belongs. If you bring in new stuff, you put everything away where you want it and tell the room to reset elf pattern. That will set a new baseline. Now, what do you think of the room?”

  Ben smiled at Niri, “I think it's perfect, but if it does house work it needs a name.” Ben thought for a moment, “Room, your name is, Aunt Bea.”

  Niri burst out laughing, “Well, Opie, are you ready for dinner now?”

  “Sure,” Ben smiled.

  “We'll go out the long way, but if you're really good I'll teach you how to play with the teleport pads.” Niri started to leave the room then stopped, “Wait, one more thing.” Niri opened the center desk drawer and pulled out a small circular silver pin. She pinned it to Ben's collar. “It's Aunt Bea's remote. With it, she can help you find your way around. Now we can go to dinner.”

  - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

  Miranda woke to a darkened room. The woman was still asleep on her pallet near the stove. Miranda decided quickly to retreat outside, so as not to disturb the woman. After a stroll down the hall, Miranda shoved past the door and out into a desert transformed. Miranda could smell water still in the air, and wondered how long the humidity would last in the blistering morning sun.
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br />   Miranda detected the delicate scents of insect pheromones. Insects, newly washed from their dormant pupae, crawled their way to the surface of the softened ground. Intent on finding one another to leave behind a new generation, they flicked their iridescent wings or used them to squeak out mating calls, each according to their kind.

  The withered sticks of the day before were now showing signs of greenery. Miranda watched their leaves as they unfurled in the dawning sun. Rehydrated flower buds waited only for the fully risen sun to open their buffets for the newlywed insects. New plants were also sprouting along the lines that had been dry dust filled cracks the day before.

  “The desert is amazing isn't it?” The woman said having snuck up silently behind Miranda.

  Miranda turned too swiftly. Her butt ended up in the sand. The woman offered a hand down to help her from the awkward position. “Uh yeah, How so?” Miranda said hastily brushing sand from her rear. Miranda was grateful the woman seemed not to notice the lack of grace.

  “Well, everything in the desert knows when to relax and wait, but everything also knows when it is time to move quickly.” The explosive opening of a bright purple flower on the end of an otherwise skeletal stalk of a plant, punctuated the woman's words. The iridescent winged insects all fought to perch on the flower in entwined pairs. Then after depositing a few eggs in the deep nectar well the pairs flew off to find the next nursery for their eggs.

  Miranda watched the insect ballet and tried to forget landing on her butt, but between her embarrassment and her confusion, she didn't quite succeed. She had never managed such clumsiness before. In all of her memory, she had gracefully deliberate in her every move. Her mind traced through the turn, even with the uncertain footing the sand provided she should have managed a graceful turn. All her kinetic memory swore she should have managed it. She looked down at her suddenly clumsy feet, and what she saw reminded her that the “always” she remembered came from a time long before she had reached nearly six feet in height.