by Guerin Zand
“Well, I knew that.” I rolled my eyes and slammed down my second orange brain tackler.
“What would you like to eat?” Cindy asked.
“I have no idea. Does this place make a decent cheeseburger?”
“I think we can manage that. Anything else?”
“Fries and an iced tea would be nice.”
Cindy opened up a viewer at the table and waved her hands around to place our order. A little while later the waitress returned with our meals. The cheeseburger was ok. I’m sure it was some vegan mush made to appear to be a real burger, but I could live with that. The vegan food was the least of my problems at the time.
“So, if the star this station is built around goes wonky, aren’t you risking a lot having all of this depending on the whims of that star?”
“These stars are generally stable for tens of billions of years. A lot of testing is done to determine if a star that was selected for a station is stable or not.”
“But you can never be 100% sure about something like that, can you?”
“No. If the star were to show signs of instability, we could disassemble the station down to its individual modules and move the entire station to another star. Each module can sustain itself independently for a few hundred years. It takes a few days to generate the power needed to open portals for such large objects though, so the move would take a while. The engineers are proud of this design and claim that these stations could outlast the universe. The rest of us think that’s a bit of overkill though. We try not to point that out to them too often.”
Did Cindy know that I was an engineer? Was this just another in a long list of insults these arrogant aliens enjoyed throwing at me? I’d remember that, and I would return the insult sooner or later. Sure, it was petty keeping track of the insults and retaliating when possible, but it helped pass the centuries. Besides, the aliens started it. Ok, maybe I called them a bunch of ass-raping perverts first, but that was actually a statement of fact. A fact that was proven true a long time ago.
As we got up to leave the restaurant, I asked Cindy where the closest bathroom was. I figured there was probably one close by, so it was best to take care of things before it became urgent. I came out of the bathroom to find Cindy waiting there for me. I guess she figured I’d get lost if she let me out of her sight.
“So, what would you like to see? Any requests?”
“Real funny, Cindy. It’s not like I have any idea what’s available. It would have been nice if you’d have given me a little notice we were going to a station. A simple tourist brochure or something maybe?”
“I think I know something you might enjoy seeing. Let’s go.”
We found the closest tube system access and Cindy put her hand on the reader to request a car. I had no idea where we were going, so it was probably a good idea to let her handle it. As I tried to process everything I knew about the station, I had to say it was more than an engineering marvel. It was an engineering masterpiece. Maybe Cindy couldn’t appreciate that, but I could. Just the transportation system itself would take decades to understand.
Since there was no sensation of motion in the tubes, I couldn’t say for sure if we ended up on a different level or the other side of the level we were currently on. There was some sort of readout over the entrance of the car that I hadn’t figured out how to decipher yet. I’m sure the information was there, so I looked at the readout as if I understood it. We weren’t in the tubes for more than a few minutes. I figured we were at least still in the same module.
We got out of the car in an area that reminded me of a giant arts and crafts fair. There were artists working and selling their works from small shops. There was a sculptor who appeared to create the matter used in the sculpture from her fingertips. She shaped that matter into some alien form of art as it appeared. It was interesting to watch.
“So, is this some sort of arts and crafts bizarre?”
“Well, I guess you could say that, but it’s also part of the school. I guess you might call it a university for the fine arts. This module is primarily a school, but of course, people live and work here as well. These shops are connected to classrooms where students come to study. At the same time, it’s also a place of recreation for people from around the station, and those visiting the station, to come and enjoy the various artistic disciplines. There are demonstrations available as well as basic classes that anyone can attend for their own enjoyment. I really enjoy coming to this module when I have enough free time.”
“Yea, I guess. Not exactly my cup of tea though.”
“Don’t worry. There is something for everyone here. What I wanted to show you is a little way down this street. Just trust me.”
We walked through the crowds for a bit. Cindy would stop now and then to talk to some of the artists. Finally, we arrived in front of a small store, a music shop I guess, where a man was performing on some form of stringed instrument I had never seen before. It had 32 strings and was played with a combination of picking and hammering, depending upon the string being played. I had to say it had a really beautiful tone to it. A cross between a guitar and a piano with a range somewhere between the two. The music was like nothing I had ever heard before. After his performance, I stepped into his shop to see the different instruments available.
“Do you have any questions?”
I looked behind me to see the man who was just performing placing the odd instrument he was playing back into its display case.
“A few million, but I guess right off, what is the name of that instrument you were just playing?”
“Ah, it’s a Zebrnetic VareLute. Here.” He took the instrument back down and handed it to me. I strummed a few strings and the relationship between the notes of the strings seemed a bit odd. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. What are the chances an alien world would develop the same chromatic scale most of our human instruments were based on? I wasn’t strong on music theory. I just played what sounded good to me.
“My mane is Grover, and I teach here as well as perform. Are you a musician?”
“I’m Guerin. No. I mean I play a little, but I’m no musician.”
“How does this instrument work? I’m not clear on the mechanics.”
“These pads above the strings are used to vary the tone of each individual string. You place your fingers on the pad of the string you wish to strike and pull or push on the pad to vary the strings sound. Give it a try.”
I played around with it for a bit and it was pretty amazing. It was like the pads were force transducers that read the amount of force and the direction of that force applied. After several minutes, I figured out how to play a basic scale on a single string. It would obviously take years to understand it well enough to actually play something simple.
“Where are you from, Guerin?”
“Earth.”
“Human?”
“For the most part,” I said as I laughed.
“Ah, you are the first human I’ve ever met. I had heard your species was progressing. I am a bit surprised to find a human at my shop though. I don’t know that a human has ever visited this station before.”
“He is definitely the first, Grover.” Cindy smiled. “His daughter has visited our station in the Andromeda galaxy, but this is Guerin’s first trip to a station. I thought he’d enjoy visiting your shop.”
“Well, I have something perhaps he might be able to help me with. Hold on. I’ll be right back.”
Grover took off towards the back of the shop. He returned with something that looked familiar. It looked like a guitar case. He opened up the case and inside was Yairi DYMR70. I knew this Yairi.
“So, you know Sid?”
“Yes. He and I often talk. He was a student of mine. He enjoys finding new instruments and often comes to trade with me. How did you know I got this instrument from Sid?”
“Because, I gave it to him, Grover. It must be almost three hundred years old by now, but you have taken excellent care of i
t. It looks almost brand new still.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I should have known. You’re Guerin Zand, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Sid talked about you a lot, and I am somewhat familiar with you from the Rebellion game.”
“Don’t tell me you play that silly game.”
“No, no. It is very popular though, and it’s hard not to be at least familiar with it.”
“Well, don’t believe a lot of the stories about me in that game. They’re mostly false.”
“I’m not very familiar with this instrument. I have simply kept it in storage to preserve it. Sid was not much help. He traded it since he said it wasn’t easy for him to play. He showed me some basics, but perhaps, since you are more familiar with the instrument, you could give us a little demonstration?”
Cindy was smiling at me.
“So, that’s why you brought me here, Cindy. You want your little monkey to perform?”
“Come on, Guerin. It’s not like that. I thought you’d be interested in the musical studies here. You enjoy playing, right?”
“Alright.”
I started off showing Grover how to tune the instrument. Luckily the guitar was well preserved, and the strings were still like new. I demonstrated the basic chords, some strumming techniques, and a few chord progressions. At least the familiar feeling of a guitar in my hands made the whole twilight zone experience of the station not seem as strange.
Grover seemed to be studying everything I did intensely. “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind joining me in the classroom. There is a class underway currently. I’m sure the students would enjoy viewing a demonstration as much as I would. The acoustics in there are much better than in my shop. Perhaps you could perform a few songs from Earth?”
I agreed. Cindy and I followed Grover through the back of the shop into what I could only describe as a small music hall. He led me up to where the lectern was and provided me a chair. One of the problems I always had playing was thinking of a song to play. I warmed up for a bit hoping something would come to me, and it did. I performed a version of Steve Howe’s Clap. When I finished, no one clapped, no pun intended. The members of the class and Grover were simply nodding their heads up and down. I guessed that was their version of applause. Maybe not? Who knows with these aliens anyways. Next, I played one of the few playable Tash Sultana songs called Featherstone. It was an acoustic guitar number that I really loved, but I had to sing it an octave or two lower than Tash would have.
Playing guitar was a therapeutic experience for me. It was a natural high. Your mind focuses on the instrument and nothing outside of that matters. The only feelings or emotions you felt were the ones your instrument produced. It could be a sad song, but somehow you embraced the sadness when playing. It wasn’t a feeling you wanted to turn off as it would normally be. I don’t know how I can explain to a person how feeling sad could also feel good, but it did when I played that type of song. This song by Tash wasn’t extremely depressing, but it wasn’t upbeat either. All I knew was that when I finished playing I felt a lot better than before I started.
Grover led us back out to his shop. There was a small crowd out in front that wasn’t there before we’d headed to the classroom. I put the guitar back in its case and handed it back to Grover.
“I hope you don’t mind that we put your performance up on the view displays in front of the shop. We normally do that so the people passing by can watch the classroom sessions.”
“No problem, I guess.”
“I personally enjoyed your performance, Guerin. Maybe you’ll consider coming back soon and perhaps taking a few classes?”
“Well, I’m just here for the evening, Grover. I don’t know when I’ll be back to this station, if ever.”
“I hope you’ll at least consider it. There is always time for study. The exchange of ideas is beneficial to all parties involved. There is a lot you could learn, and there is also a lot you could teach us. Just promise me that you’ll give it some thought.”
“I will, Grover. It was a pleasure meeting you.”
Cindy and I made our way through the crowd outside. It was obvious some of them were gamers and my visit to the station was no longer much of a secret. We made our way to the nearest transport and we hopped onto another car.
“Relax, Guerin. It will take a while to arrive at my parent’s module. I hope you enjoyed the visit to the school.”
“I did enjoy it, Cindy. Thanks.”
“I’m glad.”
“So, what is the theme, I guess that’s the right word, of this module your parents live in?”
“It’s another education center. My mother is a rather distinguished teacher in her field.”
“And what field might that be?”
“I guess you’d call it philosophy. She studies the more existential subjects. You know the meaning of life and that sort of stuff. I should probably warn you that my mother can be a bit, I don’t know, different? Some say she’s brilliant, while others think she is even crazier than you.”
“Well, since the one option is impossible, I guess she must be brilliant.” We both laughed.
It took about 45 minutes to arrive at our destination, wherever that was. This module didn’t look much different than the one we had just left. We arrived at the top level and we took a transport pad to her parent’s residence. It was a penthouse on the top level, much like Julie’s residence on the Earth ship. The decorations and furnishings were a bit different. The seemed to represent her mother’s field of study. In other words, the artwork was a bit odd. The furnishings, while more elaborate than most of the residences I lived in, still had that IKEA vibe. Cindy showed me to the room where I’d be staying. It was at least as big as the master suite in my quarters back on the Earth ship. She told me to relax and get cleaned up for dinner. She’d be back to get me in a couple of hours.
Chapter 22
Dinner with the Parents
The bed looked inviting, and frankly the day had been a bit overwhelming. Maybe only another engineer could understand how blown away I was by this station. It wasn’t just the massive size of the station, but the fact there were probably a trillion or so other engineering wonders that actually made this thing work. Imagine a dog in a house made of meat. That’s pretty much the way I felt. Having eaten my fill, I needed a nap.
I didn’t sleep long. I got up, showered, and grabbed a change of clothes out of my go bag as well as a few shaving supplies. I figured I’d try and look somewhat presentable for dinner although I really wanted to show up in my boxers and a ragged t-shirt. The idea of dinner with a Bree Council member and his family didn’t sound like that much fun. I could have refused, but I didn’t. I really did like Cindy. She’d always been a good friend and probably the Bree I trusted the most. That’s right. I trusted Cindy more than I did Milly. It’s not that I didn’t trust Milly. No. I trusted Milly, but she also had an agenda as far as I was concerned. Cindy had no hidden agenda, at least not one I was aware of.
Cindy came to get me as she had promised. My room was on the second floor of the residence. We took the stairs down to the main floor. She dragged me over to the bar in the main reception area where her family was waiting for us.
“Hello, Bob.” I offered her father my hand.
Her father shook my hand and said, “I’m glad you decided to accept our invitation, Guerin. I had bet my wife you would have refused.”
“If the invitation had come from you, you’d have won that bet.” I smiled and released his hand.
Cindy shoved her elbow into my ribs to show her disapproval of my typically shitty attitude.
“This is my brother, Andy. Andy, this is Guerin Zand.”
We shook hands.
“Cindy never mentioned she had a brother.” I gave her a strange look. The Bree seemed, based on my experiences, very closed mouth about their family relations.
“Well, I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Zand.” I didn’t like the way Andy s
aid that. The little “Mr. Zand” bit was an obvious signal to me that he wasn’t interested in being my friend.
Cindy noticed the rather cool reception her brother had offered me as well and moved on.
“And this is my mother, Lori.”
I offered Lori my hand. We performed that dainty little handshake thing. You know the one where the lady offers her hand, but you really don’t shake it. In the old days, a man would have taken a lady’s hand offered in this way and kissed the back of it.
“Ah, the infamous Guerin Zand. I must say, you don’t seem quite as scary in person.”
“I wasn’t aware I seemed scary, in person or not.”
Cindy grabbed a whiskey for me at the bar and handed it to me. I think she was trying to make this meeting a little less hostile. I thought to myself, “Good luck with that!”
“Well, you do have a bit of a reputation, Mr. Zand.”
“Call me Guerin, please? When you call me Mr. Zand you remind me of my mother after I did something bad. And my reputation is mostly fiction.”
“So, you’re not the man who assassinated Heesa Deuce Baghan, or the ‘Butcher of Claorin’?”
“Well, yes, and no. I may have assassinated Heesa, but that whole ‘Butcher of Claorin’ nonsense is just that. Perhaps you should do a little fact checking before referring to someone in those terms?”
“You weren’t there on Claorin when dozens of innocent civilians were murdered at the spaceport?”
“Yes, I was there, but it was the Alacians that killed all of those civilians. I lost three crew members as well, but you probably didn’t hear about that.”
“Perhaps, but death does seem to follow you around, doesn’t it?”
Lori had crossed the line. Maybe death followed me around, but it wasn’t like that before I met these aliens. Cindy could see I was pissed.
“Mother, Guerin is our guest. Perhaps you could treat him as such?”