“I am the proof of Kenjan’s wisdom. I was the lowly servant chosen by the exalted Kenjan to learn.”
“Learn what?”
“Everything!” Wave opened its arms expansively. “I know many various things. The exalted Oziru am Kenjan taught me stories and philosophy and mathematics and English language. And I learned. And, as a result, that one’s wisdom was proven. Even the wise Righteous Sea had to admit that I could learn.”
“So you can learn.” Gaia tried not to sound nonplused by this proclamation. She knew the point eluded her, but didn’t feel up to pursuing it to its murky and dubious end.
“Yes! I can learn. I can learn to do anything for I am intelligent.” Wave sang out this last part. “Any task I can comprehend. Tell me what to do and I will learn to do it. I am flexibility.”
“Do you want to work for me?”
“I not only want to, Gaia Jones, but I must. For I am a good servant, and you are my new master.”
“If you don’t want to work for me, I’m sure I can get the embassy to get you a stipend,” Gaia said.
Wave blinked at her in confusion.
“Money to help you live,” Gaia clarified.
“Um… Money pieces…?” Wave looked even more perplexed. The alien cradled its bandaged arm.
“You don’t have to be my servant.”
“But”—Wave sagged—“why do you not want me? You are the master of a food-making place, is that right? I can make food. I told you I could learn.”
“I do want you, but only if you actually want to work for me.”
“What else would I do? Please, explain my duties and allow me to serve.”
“Are you sure you’re up to it?” Gaia asked. “I mean, you’re hurt and…things.”
Wave looked down at its hands. “Work and learning is sometimes a strong distraction from sorrow.”
The Kishocha didn’t really understand the concept of paid employment, Gaia realized. Kishocha castes being as rigid as they were, aliens were simply born into a profession. So she spent the rest of the day explaining what she expected of her new employee, beginning with using a human timepiece (Gaia’s ex-husband’s watch) and ending with the Kishocha’s wages.
“I don’t understand,” Wave said apologetically. “You give me money pieces, but then what will I trade my money pieces for?”
“Whatever you want.”
“I see.” Wave’s gaze wandered over the room. “So after this, where will I be allowed to sleep?”
“Where do you sleep now?”
“I used to sleep in Oziru am Kenjan’s forechamber on an eel-skin sponge nest, but not anymore.”
“So you don’t have anywhere to stay?”
“I thought I would sleep on a floor, like I did just now.” Wave gestured to the spot where she’d dragged the Kishocha’s unconscious body the previous evening.
Gaia rejected the notion entirely. “You can’t just lay on the floor in my bedroom.”
“Can I lie under a table?”
“No.”
Wave looked hurt. “Do I have to sleep in the shrine? It’s spooky in there.”
“We’ll think of something.” Gaia wondered where she could get a sponge nest, then realized she didn’t even know what an eel-skin sponge nest was. Luckily the very same was delivered to Happy Snak in the early evening by Oziru’s servants. The sponge nest was, literally, a nest. It was approximately six feet in diameter, with a red eel-skin exterior and an inner lining of soft yellow sponges. Along with the nest, the servants brought two green bowls and a transparent orb. The orb was about the size of Gaia’s head and filled with squirming creatures that closely resembled baby snakes.
Wave once again fell to the floor, gushing effusive thanks to Oziru’s servants. About halfway through Wave’s speech, Gaia realized that the alien was thanking Oziru on her behalf. The items were for her, not Wave, in spite of the fact that she’d have no use for a sponge nest of any kind. It was then that Gaia began to get a feeling of the true separation of the Kishocha castes. She realized that Wave’s status in the hierarchy was somewhere near Microbe’s or a dog’s. Oziru was, in effect, saying, “Here’s Kenjan’s ex-pet Wave, and here’s its bed and bowl.”
This was not a working environment Gaia felt comfortable promoting.
As soon as the other Kishocha left, Gaia turned to Wave. “Well, where are you going to put your stuff?” she inquired innocently, as though she had no ulterior motive.
“Oh, these are not mine. These are yours, to do with as you see fit.”
“Mine? I thought they were yours. Isn’t this the bed you used to sleep on?” Gaia scratched her head in mock confusion. “I don’t really have any use for them. I guess I’ll throw them in the garbage.”
Wave’s eyes widened, and the Kishocha’s mouth dropped open. Wave looked so sad that Gaia was nearly deflected from her lesson in personal possessions.
“…garbage?” Wave whispered.
“Unless you want to buy them from me.”
“Trade them for my money pieces?”
“Exactly.”
“I don’t have any money pieces yet,” Wave said.
“But you will. So do you want me to save them until the end of the week when you have some money?”
Wave nodded.
“The question is: Where are you going to put it all?” Gaia suppressed a rush of guilt. This was a little cruel. “I happen to have a little supply room that you could rent from me for one dollar per month. Would you like to see it?”
“If you deem it proper and wise, then I don’t need to see it.”
“You’re not even curious?”
“Slightly,” Wave admitted, “but not because I question your judgment.”
“Of course not.” Gaia led Wave back through the kitchen. The supply room was adjacent to her bedroom and measured eight by ten feet. Because it was meant for storage it had a plain tiled floor with a drain in the center. One wall was Kishocha-made, so it emanated a constant heat, which would be advantageous to Wave. Gaia could tell the sponge nest was an inherently damp furnishing. The sponge nest took up about half the room and left a little space where Wave could keep its baby-snake orb.
Gaia gave Wave the room key, which prompted another long discussion about personal space and privacy. Wave asked if it had to keep the door closed, even when it was lonely, and Gaia assured the alien that solitude wasn’t mandatory.
“The idea is that you have your own room, and I have mine, and we don’t go into the other person’s room without asking.”
Wave experienced an epiphany. “Is it like we are playing democracy?”
“What?”
“We’re playing like we’re equals. I love the game democracy. The lovely Kenjan and I used to play it all the time. The noble Oziru played one time, but that one did not like it at all. The noble Oziru stopped playing when the lovely Kenjan licked seductive Oziru’s pit without begging permission. Then the game was over, and I had to go sit in the clam beds.”
“Why?”
“It was the ineffable will of great Kenjan.”
Gaia left the subject alone. They agreed on a price of one dollar for the bed, bowl and orb set. Once Wave’s possessions were situated, Gaia gave Wave a hand-held which contained the A-Ki Station Food Service Workers Training Informational Interactive Seminar. She hoped the seminar would keep Wave quiet and busy for the rest of the evening. Then she started returning her messages.
Chapter Eight: The Unspeakable Hum of Machinery
By the time Gaia finished returning her calls, ghost-feeding time was nearly upon her. In anticipation of more thunderous splashing from Kenjan, Gaia kicked off her shoes and cuffed her pants.
She commanded the strange pucker of a door to dilate. Still and silent, the shrine seemed a completely serene place, its pink waters calm and glassy. Kenjan was nowhere in sight, neither under the water nor inside the shell grotto. Through the clear water, she could see submerged cave entrances on the island. Kenjan, she suppo
sed, lurked in one of these. Gaia bent and gingerly touched the water’s surface. Minuscule ripples rose around her fingers, only to expire in the water’s impassive smoothness. Gaia watched these waves disperse, their warped, broken reflections reassembling into still wholeness. Silence pressed in around her.
Beneath the water, Gaia glimpsed a frond of black and white striped sea-grasses waving in the torpid current. Kishocha plants had colonized the walls with amazing speed. Already thin grasses and tiny, vibrant polyps had anchored themselves sporadically along the wall.
Gaia crouched above the water in mesmerized relief. Kenjan was hiding from her. Good. If the alien hid from her, there was nothing she could do—nothing she had to be responsible for. Her attention turned to the aquatic plants shimmering beneath the surface. She’d thought they were quite far away, but actually the ringed fronds were very close, just larger than she’d thought. She peered harder down into the water, then leapt backward, involuntarily shrieking in alarm. From just a foot beneath the surface, Kenjan’s purple eyes glinted up at her. The black and white fronds were Kenjan’s cranial tendrils. Kenjan leaned against the mottled wall, drifting amongst the gnarled protrusions of sponges and crustaceans. Gaia’s heart thudded. The alien had been there the whole time. She’d just been unable to see it.
Camouflage really worked.
Gaia crept back to the water’s edge. Kenjan remained motionless and staring. Then slowly it raised one long black hand. Kenjan’s fingers broke the surface, beckoning her closer. She retreated. Kenjan’s hand waved at her again, then curled its fingers into the “okay” sign. She took a steadying breath. She was going to have to meet Kenjan sometime, it might as well be now. She crouched down by the water’s edge.
Kenjan rose up until its head broke the surface. “You must be my guardian.” Kenjan’s accent was less pronounced than Wave’s. “Can you tell me your name again, please?”
Gaia relaxed a little. The alien didn’t seem angry or bloodthirsty. It wasn’t steaming. “Gaia Jones. I’m the owner of Happy Snak.”
“What is Happy Snak?”
“I sell food and beverages.”
“I see!” A glimmer of comprehension lit Kenjan’s violet eyes. “You are a cooking person.”
“Yes.”
“And I chose you to be my guardian? I wonder why?” Kenjan cocked its head to one side, regarding her.
“I think it’s because I was the only person available.”
“Perhaps, but you behaved quite heroically nonetheless. My beloved Oziru provided me with a visual log of your actions. I do not remember much from the day of my death—only the feeling of dying.”
“It was probably traumatic.”
“It was.” Kenjan floated slightly away. “But exciting. I always wondered what it would be like to die.”
“Yeah? And?” Gaia watched the gently lapping water. She wondered if all Kishocha were this candid or if Kenjan could be considered quirky.
“When death comes for you, you will know the secret.”
Definitely on the quirky axis, Gaia thought. Aloud, she said, “If you don’t mind me asking, do you know how you died?”
“I provoked the god by blasphemy and I was struck down.”
“How were you struck down?”
“You were there, you should remember.” Kenjan scowled. “My punishment had been foretold, but my arrogance was so great that I could not hear any warning. But then, that is the nature of the true heretic, yes? Even now, I feel I was right.”
This was not the answer she had expected. More than that, it was not the answer she needed in order to understand how to keep Kenjan healthy and well, as was now her duty. She decided to try another tactic.
“To me you looked like you were having an allergic reaction. It looked like the pictures of Kishocha being allergic to bleach on that First Aid Media disc I got.”
“Except that I was not doused with bleach.”
“There are a lot of things the Kishocha can’t tolerate, and you were in the human sector,” Gaia continued reasonably.
“Gaia Jones, did it never enter your mind that to be rendered poisoned by things which have no effect on others is to be punished by the god?”
“I always look for an explanation that excludes gods.”
The Kishocha rolled around in the water. Pinkish ripples sloshed over Gaia’s feet. “I suppose you would say that being struck by lightning is just a mistake.”
“Yes, I would.”
“Then you don’t think it’s sacrilegious to carry a message to my beloved?”
“Not sacrilegious, but as far as I understand your situation, if you keep trying to act like you’re alive they’re going to exorcise you. What’s that mean? Kill you for real?”
“You would look at it that way. After being exorcised, I wouldn’t be able to talk anymore, and my body would rot and be eaten by cleaners. That’s what humans call dead, yes? To be rotten and rejoin the structure?”
“Yeah, pretty much.” Gaia wrung out her sodden cuffs. “Though I’m not sure about returning to the structure.”
“When Kishocha rot, it rejoins the structure as filth through the mouths of the cleaners. Then maybe its soul is reborn. That’s the reason I know for certain I was obscene. I was not allowed to be reborn at that time. Truthfully, I don’t know if I’ll ever be reborn.”
“What if you’re not?”
“Then I’ll never love my Oziru again. Not even as a cleaner, eating my beloved’s shit.”
“Thank you for putting that image into my head.”
“That’s the lot of the heretic. I knew my fate would be crushing, but the pull of my obscenity was too strong.” Kenjan smoothed its cranial tendrils down. “But enough of myself. Tell me of you, who I will now swim beside forever.”
Gaia would have preferred to avoid ruminating over the fact that she had entered into what the Kishocha believed to be a lifelong pact. Still, this was going better than expected. No angry raving, and Kenjan’s manner remained elegant and its speech considerate. Kenjan paused thoughtfully while it contemplated her.
“Since we will be having a long relationship. We should begin with courting questions. Tell me about your pog state.”
Gaia blinked. “…pog state?”
“When you were smaller. Did you have pog siblings, or were you alone in the birthing pool. I’m sorry, I meant to say did you have any company in your mother’s vaginal area?”
Gaia wished she had thought ahead enough to record this conversation. Fitzpatrick, she suspected, would have been interested. “I have one brother. He’s a lot younger than me. What about you?”
“I have several siblings,” Kenjan said. “But the only one on Ki Island is Seigata.”
“I met Seigata a couple of times.”
“And what opinion did you form of that one?”
“We didn’t really connect.” She didn’t think that mentioning the way Seigata radiated contempt would facilitate effective interaction at this juncture.
“No, you would not. Seigata believes that humans are beneath us in holiness.”
So Kenjan already knew about the contempt. No point in beating around the bush, then. “Do you also think humans are beneath Kishocha?”
“A hard question.” Kenjan languorously pushed off the wall and swam a little, moving and turning in the water. “I think that humans are children of a different god than Kishocha. And the gods can fight about which of them is most holy in their heavenly abode. The thought should not concern you and me.”
Gaia glanced at the Kishocha-side door. She supposed she should open it soon and let the other Kishocha bring their offerings.
“We should not ask these theological questions of each other. For myself, I do not care where humans stand in the hierarchy of holiness. I only care about knowing my guardian.” Kenjan floated close. “Are you beloved consort to anyone?”
“Not anymore.”
“Then you are left alone, bereft by death like my Oziru.” Kenjan cast its
eyes down. “I am so sorry.”
“I’m not a widow, I’m just divorced.”
“I do not know the word.”
“My beloved isn’t dead,” Gaia explained. “He just isn’t my beloved anymore.”
“You cast the beloved aside?” Kenjan’s eyes widened. “How strange.”
“We both decided we didn’t have much of a future together.”
“Like soldiers meeting in a tryst before battle.” Kenjan’s low, smooth voice rumbled across the water. Its cranial tendrils caressed the water’s surface. “The moment is ephemeral as clouds passing over the moon. Then the meeting is over and you are left with sticky memories.”
“Something like that.” Gaia nodded her agreement, although she recalled being left with a lot more angry memories than sticky ones. Sometimes getting to know another person intimately wasn’t a good thing. Some people’s secret inner beauty is massively overwhelmed by secret inner ugliness.
“This situation must be very strange for you.”
“Unbelievably strange.” Gaia glanced at the Kishocha door. “But, in a way, not that different. I’m supposed to make sure you get food, right? It’s just the same as my other job, really. You must be hungry.”
“I admit that I am.”
“Then we should get this show on the road. How does it work? Do I go open up that door now, and people bring you food?”
“That is what might happen.” Kenjan sighed heavily. “Or there might be no one there, and I may go hungry. But in that case, I will implore you for chicken satay.”
“How do you know I’ve got chicken satay?” She stood, crossed to the door and opened it. As Kenjan had feared, the dim hallway and lazy pink canal were empty.
“I’ve smelled the delicious sauce. It is so wrong of me to eat bird, but I adore it. The Kishocha believe that to eat a bird is to consume the spirit and to gain the wonderful and terrible power of flight. So only Oziru may eat flying things.”
“But you’ve eaten chicken.”
“I have. It was wrong of me,” Kenjan conceded. “But I had to know if I could fly.” Gaia noted that although Kenjan tried to project the appearance of guilt, it seemed satisfied with its wrongdoing.
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