The Place Where

by Rodion Pretis

  - There are some considerations for this. Firstly, the authorities are most likely looking for the girl that you swallowed. In general, I hardly understand how you managed to get this far, and no one noticed you except me. Number two: they will constantly pester a teenager girl traveling alone, but you don't know how to behave in difficult situations. Do you understand what I am talking about? You will have to stop somewhere in Nevada, Wyoming, Utah, or where your meeting place is still there, and people will pounce on you all the way. You don't need such things for nothing. Anyway, this is a very tricky thing - to try to marry a girl.You need to know how to apply makeup, how to recognize gestures, what does your style of dressing and all that jazz mean. Guys have a much simpler subculture. Once you get the male body - a large, strong body - and no matter where you go, no one will especially get you. You can just stay away, don't look anyone's eyes, don't smile, and everyone will leave you alone.

  “That sounds reasonable,” said the alien. - Good. Hunger is already becoming too strong. Where can I get a male body?

  “In San Francisco, it's full of men.” We will go there tonight and find you a good, muscular body. If we are lucky, we can even find one that turns out to be not blue, and then we can have some fun with him at first. And then you take his body for yourself - which at the same time will solve your problem with food at the same time, right? And we can have some more fun later - we will have a whole weekend for this. - Amanda winked. - Okay, Connie?

  “Okay,” the alien also winked, clumsily imitating her, first with one eye, then with the other. “Now will you give me more oregano?”

  - Later. And when you wink, do it with just one eye, like that. But only I don't think that you should especially often wink at people. This is a very intimate gesture, and if you abuse it, you can fly into trouble. You understood?

  “There is too much to understand.”

  “What to do, you are on an alien planet, baby.” Did you really expect everything to be like here at home? Well, I continue. The next thing I wanted to point out to you: when you leave me on Sunday, you will need to ...

  The phone rang.

  - What is that sound? The alien asked.

  - Communication device. I'll be right back. - Amanda went into the hallway, imagining the worst - for example, her parents called to announce that they were coming from Tahoe tonight, or some butch on reservations, or something else.

  However, Charlie's voice greeted her from the handset. She could hardly believe it after the ease with which he threw her this weekend. She could hardly believe in what he wanted from her. Last week, he left a dozen of his best tapes at her house, the golden age of rock - “Abby Road”, the first disc of Hendrix, Janice Joplin and something else - so now he is going to Monterey for the festival and would like to take them with yourself to listen on the go. Would she mind if he turned to her in half an hour to pick them up?

  What a bastard! She thought. - This must be such shit! First, he breaks her up the whole weekend, without even apologizing, then he reports that he dumps with some of his girlfriends in Monterey to be pulled out there - is it okay if he still bothers her with his tapes? What does he think, she has no feelings?

  Amanda looked at the telephone as if she were spewing toads and scorpions. She had a strong temptation, without answering anything, just to hang up.

  She overcame him.

  “You know,” she said, “I'm actually going to leave myself, but I still have a girlfriend at home - I asked her to look after the cat.” I'll leave your tapes to her, okay? Her name is Connie.

  - Well! Just fine, ”said Charlie. “Thank you so much, Amanda.”

  “Not at all,” she answered.

  The stranger was again in the kitchen and rummaging in spices, but the oregano was in Amanda's pocket. She said:

  “I arranged for the delivery of your new body.”

  - Truth?

  - A large, healthy young male. Just what you need. He will be here soon. I'm going to drive a car now - I hope you can handle it before I return. How long does this ... takeover take you?

  - It's very fast.

  - Well, good. - Amanda found Charlie's tapes and stacked them in a pile on a table in the living room. “He will come here to pick up these six boxes - these are devices for storing music.” When the doorbell rings, you let him in, say that your name is Connie, and say that his things are here on the table. After that you can do what you need. Do you think you can do it?

  “Of course,” said the alien.

  - Tuck your t-shirt deeper. When it is tightly stretched, your boobs bulge - this will distract him. Maybe he'll even start to drive up to you. What will happen to Connie's body when you swallow it?

  - It will disappear. I just merge with it, and all of Connie's properties dissolve, and I'll take myself new ones.

  - Yeah. Smartly. You know, and you really are a nightmarish creature! Just a walking horror movie. So, take another dose of oregano before I leave. - She put a small pinch of spice on the alien's palm. “You need to warm up a little.” Then I will give you more - when you do everything you need. See you in an hour!

  She left the house. Makaviti sat on the porch and frowned, flailing his tail from side to side. Amanda squatted beside him and scratched him behind his ear. The cat made a low, hoarse grunting sound, completely unlike his usual purr.

  “Are you unhappy, yes, boy?” Amanda told him. - Well, don’t worry. I told the stranger not to touch you, and I give you my word that nothing will happen to you. Amanda just found entertainment for herself tonight. You will not mind if Amanda has a little fun? - Makaviti answered grim sniffles. “Listen, maybe I can get the newcomer to make you a pretty, spotty cutie, huh?” Hot and ready to meow with you for a couple? Would you like it, boy? Would you like it? I'll try to arrange something when I get back. But now I need to get out of here before Charlie shows up.

  She got into the car and headed for the entrance to the freeway leading west. It was Friday, half past six in the evening; the sun still hung high above the bay. In the easterly direction the traffic was dense - belated shuttles trudged home from work; the opposite side of the road also began to fill up a little, as people traveled to San Francisco to dine at a restaurant. Amanda drove through the tunnel and turned north toward Berkeley, intending to ride through the city streets. It was ten minutes to seven. Charlie is probably already there.She imagined Connie in this tight-fitting T-shirt, still slightly under the gas from oregano, sparkling with sweat - and as Charlie puts her eye on her, she starts making plans, wondering if he will be able to quickly get laid on the ball before falling off with their cassettes. Connie leads him into the living room, Charlie begins to make his porches, and suddenly there is a shock - an alien pounces on him, and Charlie suddenly discovers that he has turned into someone else's lunch. Maybe this is happening right now, Amanda thought calmly. This bastard doesn't deserve anything else, does he? She had long felt that Charlie was a big mistake in her life, and even after he soaked yesterday, she was sure of it. He deserves nothing else.

  However, she continued to reflect, what if Charlie brought his girlfriend with him? The thought made her feel cold. She absolutely did not foresee such an opportunity! It could ruin everything.

  Connie isn't able to absorb two times, right? But what if they recognize her as an escaped alien and rush out to call the police?

  No, she thought. Even Charlie is not capable of such disgusting thing - to drag his woman into the house to Amanda tonight. And besides, Charlie never watches the news or reads newspapers. He would not even suspect who Connie really was - until it was too late to run away.

  Seven o'clock. It's time to turn back.

  The sun was setting over the horizon behind her as she turned onto the highway. After another quarter of an hour, she drove up to her house. Charlie's old red Honda stood in front of the porch.

  Amanda parked on the other side of the street, carefully entered the house and stopped right outside the door, listening.


  Everything is quiet.

  - Connie?

  “I'm here,” Charlie's voice answered.

  Amanda entered the living room. Charlie lay comfortably prostrated on the couch. No sign of Connie.

  - Well, how? Amanda asked. - How did everything go?

  “It was easy,” said the alien. - He just threw his hands under my T-shirt when I gave him a canceling discharge.

  - Yeah, I see. Reversal discharge.

  - Then I finished the absorption and cleaned the carpet. Oh, how good it's not to feel hungry again! You can't even imagine what it cost me to refrain from swallowing you, Amanda. Last hour, I just thought that I wanted to eat, eat, eat ...

  “It was very wise for you to hold on.”

  “I knew you wanted to help me.” It's wise not to absorb your allies.

  - This is not even worth talking about. So, now do you feel full? Was he good food?

  - Strong, healthy, nutritious ... oh yes!

  “I'm very glad Charlie was good for anything.” How much time will pass before you get hungry again?

  The alien shrugged.

  “A day or two, maybe three.” Will you give me more oregano, Amanda?

  “Of course,” she said. - Sure.

  She felt a little disappointed. Not that she was so tormented with remorse over Charlie, but it seemed to her that all this had turned out somehow frivolously, impromptu; somehow she felt cheated. She probably should have stayed and see how this would happen. However, now it was too late to think about it.

  She pulled an oregano from her purse and teased it with a jar.

  “Oregano is here, baby.” But first you must earn it!

  - What do you mean?

  - I mean, I was going to spend a terrific weekend with Charlie, and this weekend has come. Charlie is also here, more or less, and I'm ready to have some fun. Come on, show me what you can do, big guy!

  She slipped the remaining tape from Charlie with Hendrix into the tape recorder and twisted the volume knob to the maximum.

  The stranger looked at her, puzzled. Amanda began to pull off her clothes.

  “You too,” said Amanda. - Come on, undress. You don't have to go too deep into Charlie's brains to figure out what to do. Will you be my Charlie this weekend, cut in? We will do everything that we were going to do with him. Okay Come on. Come on! - she beckoned with his hand.

  The stranger shrugged again and climbed out of Charlie's clothes, tangled in an unfamiliar zipper and button closure. Amanda, grinning, pulled the stranger to her and carried him to the living room floor. She took his hands and laid them where she wanted them to be. In a whisper, she gave him instructions, and the alien, obedient, obedient, did everything she wanted.

  It was like Charlie. It smelled like Charlie. And after her briefing, even his movements began to completely resemble the way Charlie moved.

  But it was not Charlie, it was not Charlie at all, and after the first few seconds Amanda already knew that she had ruined everything irretrievably. It is impossible to imitate such things, simply declaring them to be what they are not. Making love with an alien was the same as making love with a very smart machine or with your own reflection in the mirror. It was empty and pointless and stupid.

  She gloomily came to an end, then they rolled away from each other, sweaty and panting.

  - Well, how? The alien asked. “Did the earth tremble beneath you?”

  - Yes. Yes It was just awesome, uh ... Charlie.

  - Oregano?

  “Of course,” said Amanda. She handed him a jar of spice. “I always keep my promises, baby.” Take this. Fuck as you should. Just don't forget that this is a very strong thing for guys from your planet, okay? If you pass out, I will leave you lying here on the floor.

  - Do not worry about me.

  - Oh well. Come on, have fun. I'll tidy up here a little, and then, probably, I'll go to San Francisco, to take a sip of nightlife. Are you interested in this?

  “You would, Amanda!” - the alien winked, first with one eye, then with the other, and grabbed a healthy pinch of oregano. - It will be just awesome.

  Amanda gathered her clothes from the floor, went upstairs and took a quick shower, then dressed. When she went down, the alien was already half disconnected: he was sitting on the floor, his back resting on the couch and hanging his head on his chest. His eyes were glazed, he mumbled something incomprehensible and devoid of tonality under his breath. Well, that's fine, Amanda thought. “Come on, my love, pump up properly.” She picked up a cordless phone from the kitchen, went into the bathroom with him, locked the door and quietly dialed the police emergency number.

  The stranger tired her. The possibilities of the game were exhausted very quickly. And it would be crazy, she thought, to spend the whole weekend side by side with a dangerous extraterrestrial being when this did not promise any fun for her. Now she understood that this could not be anything funny. In addition, after a day or two, the newcomer could feel hungry again.

  “I have your alien here,” she said. “He's sitting in my living room in full cut,” he went through oregano. Yes, I'm absolutely sure. At first he was in the body of one chicane, Concepcion Flores, but then he attacked my friend, Charlie Taylor, and ... Yes, I'm safe. I locked myself in the bathroom. Just send someone quick here ... Good. I'll be in touch ... You see, I noticed him in the city, near the Video Center, and he insisted to come with me to my house ...

  The detention process took only a few minutes. But after the operative police group dragged the alien away, calm did not come for many hours, as the media began to act right there - first a team from the Second Auckland Channel, then the guys from the radio, then from the Chronicle, and finally, the whole an army of reporters from Sacramento; and telephone calls from Los Angeles, and San Diego, and - about three in the morning - from New York.

  Amanda told her story again and again, until she began to feel sick from her; and only when it was already dawn, she threw the last newspaper men out of the doorway and closed the door to the bolt.

  She did not want to sleep at all. She felt hungover, inflated and oppressed at the same time. The alien was no longer there, Charlie was gone, she herself was completely alone. Of course, over the next few days she will be a celebrity, but this thought did not help. Anyway, she will be alone. For some time she wandered around the house, examining it with the eyes of an alien - as if she had never before seen a stereo tape recorder, or a TV, or a shelf with spices. The smell of oregano was everywhere; its footprints still remained on the floor.

  Amanda turned on the radio again. Here you are: in the six-hour news talk about her. “... The critical situation was overcome thanks to a brave schoolgirl from Walnut Creek, who managed to trap and outwit the most dangerous of the known forms of life in the Universe ..."

  She shook her head.

  “Do you think this is true?” She asked the cat. - The most dangerous form of life in the universe? I don't think so, Makaviti. It seems that I know at least one that is much more dangerous. Ah baby? - She winked. “If they only knew, huh?” If they only knew ... - She lifted the cat from the floor and pressed it to her chest. The cat purred. Maybe take a little nap? And then she would have to come up with something else to do for the rest of the weekend.

  Don webb

  Diary found in an empty studio

  Day 1. I can't draw after taking the medicine.

  If I had rested for several days, the images would have come, and I could have finished the canvas - but there is always the danger that I will forget who draws it, and maybe even forget what is true and what is false. So I started this diary. I will read it every day, and write notes in it every day, and then I will have no trouble, as at that time. Yesterday I prepared the canvas. Today I stopped taking the medicine. Tomorrow I can start the drafts.

  Day 2. My name is Tyrone Watson. I am I live in Austin, Texas. Well, it looks quite normal. I don't think it's a good idea to kill your critics. There is no particular beauty in violence. If I want t
o get someone, I just draw a caricature of him. I work for Roberta Says.

  Today I started the “Values Market”, it will be a study in blue and gray: something like a holiday, and people buy and sell things that have no value. Maybe I'll still work on smaller copies of Bessie Folman's paintings.

  Day 3. Ideas snoop today. This is just awesome! My sketchbook is gradually filling up, and the "Market" is also moving well. Oh yes, I forgot my focusing mantra:

  My name is Tyrone Watson, I'm a Master of Fine Arts. I already had two personal exhibitions. The last - five years ago.

  Well, here everything is under control. In fact, the only control problem I have is the desire to spend all my time here upstairs and paint, paint, instead of sitting down in the store; but it normal. Artists always want to paint. It's a pity that my working hours coincide with the time when there is a good light.