The Afterlife of Alice Watkins 2

by Matilda Scotney

  “Don’t you have a home and friends?”

  “While I’m in service, while any of us single people are serving, we’re not allocated a permanent home. On leave, we visit parents or family or wherever we choose. For now, my home is the Significator.”

  “What about friends?”

  “Not really, I’ve never cultivated friendships, Alice,” he smiled the funny downturned smile. “People find me ‘stuffy’, to use Principal Katya’s words.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard you described like that…”

  Such complete agreement was unexpected, but she went on to say,

  “…taking me to Tibet and Match…this place today, giving up your time, I don’t think you’re stuffy—Noah.”

  Alice stood on the ridge looking down at the citadel. She’d managed the vertiginous climb without a problem, refusing to use the local transport for fear she may miss the views, and stayed easily ahead of her companion during the ascent.

  “Peru is a province? What’s the difference between a province and a realm?” she asked as Noah joined her in the view.

  “The provinces are areas exempt from the Principality Accord. Areas where the plague’s effects were devastating and far-reaching, leaving entire regions depopulated. All of South America was affected, leaving only one region, Principality 32—Argentina in your time— intact.”

  “All these beautiful places in the world and I didn’t know a thing about them,” she said, wistfully. Noah didn’t comment, just stood beside her, as she surveyed the glory of the scenery, unable to believe his luck she’d agreed to come with him.

  The guide met them to escort them, speaking to Noah in a tongue Alice didn’t understand. Noah answered in the same language and indicated she should follow.

  Alice tried to look in every direction. Peru. So beautiful here. Breathtaking. As beautiful as Tibet. She returned the smile of an old woman who walked past, swathed in a colourful blanket and wearing an equally colourful hat, followed by a llama with matted hair who came to investigate as they descended to the citadel. The llama smelled like mouldy cheese, and Noah and the guide laughed when she wrinkled up her face and held her breath.

  The mountains rose high in the distance, their tops lost in the clouds. From where she stood, she couldn’t see the valley floor, and she was almost touching the heavens. Alice Watkins missed out on so much. She would not let these opportunities pass her by now she no longer lived that small life. Alice paused, turning in a slow circle, viewing every view. Ahead, Noah and the guide realised she wasn’t with them and stopped to wait for her to catch up. The guide had seen many people taken with the beauty and ambience, and he gave Noah a knowing grin. Noah knew how she felt; she was more expressive in her appreciation, but had he been a little freer, he may have done the same thing.

  There were only two other couples in the group, so they could examine and climb and discuss. Soon enough, the others wandered off to do their own exploring, leaving Alice and Noah alone. He’d visited the area many times, and Alice soaked up all his knowledge. The temple area was constructed of dry-stone blocks, and Noah spoke knowledgeably on the life of these enormous bricks, of the terraced fields, the residential levels, and the attempts at restoration over the centuries. Alice couldn’t conceal her fascination. Regardless of the subject matter, she circled the information, considered it, then repeated it back to him, to be sure she fully understood. Not once did she appear fatigued or disinterested, and the first they noticed time passing was when the sun turned to orange and lowered in the sky. Noah suggested they go to the Stable and prepare for the night.

  The Stable wasn’t a stable at all. Stalls, with straw sure enough, but rather luxurious, definitely man-made straw. A forcefield roof covered the stall to stop its occupants getting wet if it rained, or from freezing to death overnight. There were no horses, but a mix of donkeys and mules and llamas wandered around outside.

  The ‘stall’ had a washer with a gel-pack shower the same as on the starships, and Alice realised the idea was to give the impression of sleeping rough, but in reality, it was all rather comfortable. She wondered what it would be like to sleep out under the stars but wasn’t too sure about where the smelly llama spent the night, besides, she could see all the stars she wanted through the force field above her head.

  A fire was prepared outside and a circle of stones arranged as seats. Noah waited for Alice while she checked out her accommodation. All day, she’d listened to him and asked questions, responding to this place—one of his favourite places on Earth—with a sense of innocence and wonderment. He didn’t want the day to end.

  She joined him, sitting beside him close to the fire. The sun was way down in the sky, and she watched the layer of red, sandwiched magnificently between the dark blue of the night and the mountains.

  “It’s beautiful here, Noah, I love it. I love this,” she gestured around. Despite wearing a thick hat and her jacket, Alice shivered. Noah picked up a blanket to drape around her, and she cuddled herself into it. In silence, they watched the evening sky consume the dying sun as it disappeared in colourful layers, leaving behind the brilliance of the stars as a backdrop.

  The two couples sat with them and introduced themselves. One, newly married, were both agriculturalists and the other, entertainers. Noah and Alice gave their Christian names, offering no other information, and none was asked for.

  The evening meal offered a mixture of flavours that Alice found spicy and oddly sweet. Interested to try the local cuisine and wishing to be polite, she was unsure she liked the taste, but only she hesitated, the others seemed to love it, so she supposed her palate was not as sophisticated. She welcomed the hot chocolate that followed and afterwards, the guide brought out a guitar and sang to them in the language Alice heard earlier.

  The two entertainers collected a variety of instruments from their stable; a guitar, a violin, a drum-like barrel and a pipe Alice had never seen the like of before. The couple sang beautiful folk songs, encouraging them all to join in. The guide sang along, in excellent English, proving to Alice the use of his native tongue, like the addition of ‘straw’ to the stable, was merely an effort to make the experience more authentic.

  Noah asked if he might take the violin and join in, clearly knowing the songs well and preferring to play rather than sing. Alice was too shy to contribute in any way, but loved the music and applauded each song. Noah played the violin as well as he played the oboe, and Alice supposed he hadn’t played the violin at the concert on the ship because there were so many violinists already.

  As the night drew on, the others withdrew to their stable, leaving Noah and Alice alone. Alice was fighting sleep. What a wonderful day. Her tired brain conjured up Alice Watkins’s not particularly happy memories. She’d learned nothing of the diversity and history of the world, learned nothing to pass on to and inspire her children. Michelle and Steven were limited by their mother’s lack of education and vision. What a waste. She shook her head to dispel the thoughts; she didn’t want to spoil her mood by overthinking, so she smiled up at Noah.

  “I’m tired. I need my bed. Today was magical.”

  He stood and helped her to her feet; she handed him the blanket.

  “You’ll be warm enough in the stable, Alice. There are extra blankets next to the bed. I’ve enjoyed today. Thank you.”

  She held her hand up in a small wave as she closed her door. Noah stood for a moment before going back to the fire, wrapping the blanket around himself, he caught a faint trace of her perfume. Machu Picchu was one of the few places on Earth he ever felt peaceful, the air always felt so clean out here, and he was close to the stars. He would have liked Alice to stay with him. The fire burned bright still, and he propped himself against the pile of blankets. Sleeping under a forcefield didn’t appeal, and as he always did, instead of going to the stables, he settled for a night under the stars.

  Noah woke Alice in the morning. The sun was high over the mountain, and the guide provided a cold breakfast with
a pot of coffee, accepting Noah knew his way around the ruins almost as well as he did. Noah knocked hard on the door, and she opened it in a hurry, her eyes wide with surprise.

  “Oh, Principal Ryan, I slept like a log. I’m so sorry.”

  He smiled at her formality. “It’s fine, get ready and come and have breakfast, we’ve still got another level to explore.”

  She didn’t take long to tidy herself and go out to the fire pit. Noah was digging at the fire, and he grinned as she sat down, offering her the breakfast, but she shook her head and pointed to the coffee. He poured it for her, noting she seemed a little distant.

  “Are you alright?”

  She nodded. “I suppose so.”

  He sat next to her, handing her the beaker.

  “What happened? You were so cheerful last night.”

  “Perhaps that’s just it,” she said. “I’ve never experienced an evening like yesterday evening. Sleeping out under the stars, even if there was a forcefield above me,” she sighed, “even the fact there was a forcefield above me. The technology still bewilders and amazes me,” she shrugged, “being here in such an historic place and listening to accomplished musicians around a campfire, I guess I realised how small my life was previously—a small life, lived in ignorance and steeped in the ordinary. How little I had to offer.”

  She shook her head, as if dismissing the thoughts, then smiled an apology.

  “I shouldn’t be saying things like that.”

  “You aren’t ignorant and ordinary. Alice.” Noah didn’t share this view at all. “You take a simple and refreshing view of a world many of us are complacent about, and you love learning about your surroundings. In your time, such places were less accessible. I’ve been here many times, but I’m seeing it now through new eyes, thanks to you. I can’t remember watching the sunset here. These sites are a natural part of our education and available to all, perhaps except for Tibet, and in that, you received an honour most definitely not given to everyone.”

  She studied her coffee for a moment and then cast her gaze out over the mountains before looking back at him, a little of her shyness returning as she met his eyes.

  “I was frightened of you the first couple of times I met you,” she admitted.

  “Were you?” Of course she was. He knew it, but he would pretend ignorance.

  She nodded. “Yes,” but then took a deep breath and changed the subject. “What do you do when you have leave from the ship apart from visiting here? Hobbies—that type of thing.”

  Alice wouldn’t admit it, but she was as interested in understanding him, as she was learning about Peru.

  Noah was unused to giving information about his life outside space, mainly because there was little to tell, so he would answer as simply as the question was posed.

  “I usually spend some time with my parents and sisters; I like gardening too, flowers especially and roses particularly.”

  “Flowers?”

  Not the answer she was expecting. Noah picked up a blanket.

  “I weave as well, a little like your crochet. I first became interested in it here when I came with my parents,” he showed her the pattern of colours in the hand-woven blankets, “but I mainly weave baskets using patterns like this, though I once wove a rug for my parent’s house. It took me ages, years in fact,” he laughed, “I did it between assignments.”

  “I didn’t expect flowers and weaving as hobbies,” she confessed.

  “You consider them strange pastimes?”

  “No, but, Noah, you are so educated and important and, well—large,” Alice felt foolish making such a personal observation, but she’d expected sport, or body-building, or something—different. “I imagined someone like you, Principal of a starship, explorer, scientist, I don’t know…just not flowers and weaving baskets.”

  “Well, my parents have a rose garden.”

  He wasn’t at all sure what difference the information would make, but knew that in her time, male/female roles had greater definition and his activities might not be considered suitably masculine—perhaps a little on the genteel side. In a rare flash of humour, just to see if his theory was correct, he added,

  “I also like puppies and kittens. My parents usually have those around the house too,” he struggled to keep a straight face in light of Alice’s surprise.

  “I’m sorry Noah, in my time, amongst the people I knew, flowers and basket-weaving would be unexpected hobbies for a man like you.”

  “A man like me?” he raised an eyebrow. This was fun.

  “Just…ignore me.”

  She went back to her coffee. Trust her to say something stupid. But Noah couldn’t ignore it. His theory was correct.

  “What did you think? That I bite the heads off chickens?”

  But he didn’t do a good enough job of hiding his amusement. He was teasing her! And all of a sudden, she giggled and jabbed him in the arm.

  “I am not at all frightening, Alice,” he said, smiling at her response, but even so, he was reminded of that night in the auditorium, and Engineer McIntyre and myriad others. He had to admit it, he could be intimidating.

  “Well, I thought you were scary,” she decided not to let him off the hook entirely. “But you’re not now,” she put her coffee down, stood and grinned down at him.

  “Tell me everything about what we are going to see today.”

  Chapter 17

  Alice described herself as ignorant, but with her energy and eagerness to learn, Noah forgot her earlier description, occasionally witnessing sudden flashes of knowledge, as fleeting as they were startling. She appeared oblivious to the episodes, each time delivering this knowledge in the same confident tone and inflection she used when speaking with him at the Cotillion Ball.

  But the Alice who returned from those crossovers–with no memory of the preceding moments– smiled often, listened attentively, asked endless questions and climbed over walls and rocks, discovered and enquired further. He was coming to recognise these two distinct personalities and concluded, for now, she was only fully aware of that side which she attributed to Alice. The other—Alexis—must hold all her true memories, those crucial memories her doctors hoped she would recover, and then perhaps the Alice personality would fully integrate. But her Alice existence seemed valid to him, compelling even, and he perceived a beauty in her that wasn’t only physical.

  Alice devoured all of Noah’s knowledge about the ruins, and when she’d exhausted everything he knew, tapped into one of the registry terminals to learn more. They laughed about the now long gone Eduction chip, and she told him she wished she’d had one at school. Life might have been quite different.

  They returned to the stables late. The entertainers left earlier in the day, so the jollity of the previous night wasn’t repeated, apart from a few songs from the guide. Alice was again very tired, and went to the stable after dinner, leaving Noah outside alone, wrapped in a blanket. Sleep didn’t come easily to him, with his mind far too busy trying to unravel the secret of Alice’s connection to the A’khet, a connection she clearly didn’t recognise. All the data, all the research, pointed to the woman by his side these last two days being Alexis Langley, and at times, observations he’d made, questions from her and even some of her answers confirmed the fact to some measure. But he couldn’t forget that A’khet addressed her as Alice Watkins; the woman whose identity she professed she owned. Alice was no less intelligent than Alexis Langley. She appeared to be able to absorb a considerable amount of information, especially about history and architecture, and when she spoke, in her sweet and gentle way, he felt protective of her, close to her.

  At some point during his deliberations, the fog of confusion gave way to sleep; he woke to find her standing over him as the sun rose.

  “Aren’t you freezing?” she asked, holding out a mug of coffee.

  He sat up and raked his fingers through his hair.

  “No, the fire stayed alight for quite a long time. I must have fallen asleep before it d
ied down.”

  She looked out over the mountains as he took the mug from her.

  “The sunrise this morning, it’s beautiful,” then she smiled, “I say that a lot, don’t I, something is beautiful, or wonderful?”

  He got to his feet and dusted off his clothes and hands, he must be a picture of sloppiness, and might need to excuse himself to go and shower.

  “Well, it’s because they are. They’re simply truthful observations.”

  “Do you ever take it all for granted, Noah?”

  “As I said, we can get complacent about our treasures.”

  “That’s just a fancy way of saying you do take it all for granted.”

  “So it is.”

  She stood as close to the edge of the ridge as possible, watching the little fingers of dawn heralding the new day. So silent. So still. An eagle flew above the trees.

  “Tell me about Alice Watkins.” The question was unplanned, he might regret asking, but she didn’t turn to him to find out why he’d asked, instead, she laughed—a tiny laugh filled with irony; for once, she was being asked about Alice, the person, not her society or her century. She didn’t reply immediately, but returned to where he stood, seating herself on a large stone opposite him. She considered what she might say, and how much. She studied the rocks, the mountains, the remains of the fire. Somehow, she trusted this man. He sat down and waited, uncertain.

  “What I tell you might be the ramblings of a crazy woman.”

  “Why do you say that?

  “I told Principal Hardy and Dr Grossmith,” she shrugged, “that I believe I’m Alice Watkins, and they tell me, firmly, I’m wrong, I can’t be Alice Watkins, it’s not possible. I am Alexis Langley, a doctor no less.”

  What could she lose, she decided, by telling him everything? He would be on his way back to his ship soon and would probably forget all about her. So, with the decision made and the early warmth of the sun on her face, she told him her story.