by S E Anderson
I looked in the mirror and was shocked to see a girl with an actual figure staring back. It made me look like I had curves, dammit. I turned around and around, taking it all in, in silent awe.
Zander purchased the dress for me. I couldn’t believe I would be taking something so gorgeous and alien home. Not that I could tell anyone where I had gotten it.
“You come back if you need anything.” Her gaze fell on Zander, and she nodded once. Like she knew him or something. There was much more going on here. But wasn't there always, when it came to Zander?
We wandered the streets a little more, this time focusing on the sights of the city rather than the shops. I felt my stomach rumble and hoped Zander hadn't heard it; I didn't want him to worry about me again, for nothing.
We talked, and, yet, we didn’t talk. There was a distance between us that hadn’t been there before—was it intentional? Not on my part. But all we exchanged was small talk, even if the small talk involved alien wares.
Each window held new wonders, each turn of the street new people, new alien species. We lingered in front of a jeweler’s for a while, and I admired stones and minerals of textures unseen on Earth. It was there that I saw the price of gold.
“Zander.” My eyes widened and my jaw hit the floor. “You paid one hundred Alliance things for dinner, right?”
“Credits,” he replied. “Alliance credits. Yeah, I did. Why?”
“Tell me if I'm wrong, but does that sign say that gold is … five credits a gram?”
“Not a gram, a unit,” Zander explained. “That would be a little over a gram. It's difficult to convert.” He saw the look on my face and gave me a wink. “Let's go inside, shall we?”
The interior was even more impressive than the storefront. The walls were covered in transparent cases displaying jewels I had never seen the likes of before and some I recognized, including a ruby pendant the size of a goose egg. A small cabinet, not even locked, contained small gold jewels, incredibly intricate and incredibly cheap.
Zander shrugged at those. “It rains diamonds on some planets.”
Silver, on the other hand, was worth a small fortune. The store owner looked at my simple silver hoops in longing, saying simply, “You have one caring boyfriend, miss.” To which I froze, shocked and confused, as Zander's face turned a violent shade of red.
Anyone watching would have seen me leaving the store with a whole set of gold earrings, bracelets, necklaces, and gifts for friends back on Earth, and all for the miserable sum of a meal at a “high-end” snack food place.
I stopped to watch a street performer, a creature as long as a school bus with at least a dozen legs on each side. He blew bubbles out of the protrusions on his head, changing their colors and shape to make them dance together. It was mesmerizing, entirely enticing.
“You have to see this,” Zander whispered, pulling me out of the trance.
“I'm watching,” I replied. “It's incredible.”
“There's more.”
I followed him around the corner to a plaza the size of a small country, and my heart leapt in my chest.
It was a fountain. Or a mountain. Or maybe both. I couldn't see the top from where I was standing; it just kept going. All marble, beautiful gray stone carved into a tiered forest. It was surrounded by a moat of water with dancing jets, leading to an island with stone trees growing on it. The branches and leaves turned to dirt and roots for the tier above, all the way up as far as the eye could see.
I was speechless.
“You want to see it from the top?” Zander asked, hopping from foot to foot like a five-year-old wanting ice cream.
“Can we?”
“We're right next to Da-Duhui Tower.” He pointed at a spacescraper that stood taller than the rest. “If we take the elevator to the top, we can see the whole thing from up there, not to mention the whole city.”
My stomach made another little rumble, and he frowned.
“I'm fine,” I said, smiling. “It's a human thing.”
“I don't remember that from ...” He shook his head. “Never mind. You up for a quick trip to the top of the tallest building in this solar system?”
“Heck, yes.” I put on a good show, pretending my fear wouldn’t get in our way. “And don't worry; I'm absolutely fine. It's not like I didn't have enough to eat.”
He chuckled but said nothing. Wise move.
“And is the height going to be an issue?”
He remembered. Nice of him to ask, this time, before asking me to run across narrow ledges. Not that I was proud of my irrational fear, though it might actually be rational in my case.
“I hope not.”
“I’ll be here.”
There was virtually no line at the elevators, so we walked right up to the building and rode the glass shuttle to the top. The higher we got, the more I saw of the fountain. Each tree was delicately carved to give the impression that you could walk through the stone thicket, like the forest had grown there and was still growing.
At the very top, however, was a tree stripped of all leaves, and there sat a large, bronze, well ... bird thing. I would say it resembled an eagle the most, but it had more legs than any bird I had ever seen. It was caught between take-off and landing, as if it were ready to take flight at any moment.
“What is that?” I hitched my neck at the six-legged eagle.
“The griffon of Kalmara, the symbol of the Alliance from way back when.”
“I bet there’s a whole story to tell, right?”
“Always,” Zander replied. “That’s the thing about stories: they can’t bear not being told.”
I was in so much awe that panic refused to kick in. Soon we were above the fountain, the city sprawling out at our feet. This tower really was tall; we were above the city, the smog, the hover cars.
The buildings spread out around us, split by the varicose veins of the city, glowing yellow and pumping life through the arteries. I could see, now, the rooftops of the tallest buildings, where spotlights glowed and plants flourished.
The elevator played a little jingle then stopped, throwing its doors open to an observation deck. A gust of wind blew, and for a second I thought I would blow right over the edge, before logic interjected and reminded me I was entirely safe.
Might have to tell my knees that, though. They were shaking like a cold Chihuahua after a bath.
I went over to the rail, as carefully as I could, looking down at the cityscape from this dizzying height. My breath stuck in my throat for a second—no, a minute; a full minute or even longer—as I saw Da-Duhui with my own eyes, overwhelming my every sense.
Maybe I could do this height thing.
Maybe.
“Impressed yet?” Zander asked, leaning on the rail beside me.
I shuddered, and not from the cold, and tightened my hands around the rail.
“It's ... amazing.” I stared down at the bright city lights, far below me and yet still vibrant. “I just imagined it to be a little more ...”
“Foreign?” he suggested. “Alien?”
“Exactly. Like ... they have pizzas here. So many of the people are bipedal, humanoid, or even human. They have cars and TVs and elevators.”
“It's not all the same now, is it?”
“Okay, fine, it's pretty different,” I said as I walked along the observation deck, a clammy hand on the rail to steady myself. In every direction until the curvature of the planet, there was a sea of buildings and neon lights. “This place is pretty alien. And yet I can't wrap my head around this being an alien planet, you know? It's like something I could have imagined in a fever dream or while high or something. They're still the same people. Living. Laughing. Eating, shopping. I expected—”
“What?”
“Hell if I know.” I laughed, though it was an awkward laugh. “It's alien. But it's normal. It's ... tame.”
“Well, it's a lot to take in.”
“That's for sure.”
I watched the people for
a while, in silence. From up here, they looked like ants, just small, black specks. No distinction between human or non-human, simply people.
“So, um,” Zander started, taking his turn at being awkward, “what happened in the past two years?”
No avoiding it now. I took a deep breath.
“Not much,” I said. “Honestly, though? It’s been pretty tough.”
“Oh?”
“We blew up a power plant. Most of the workforce got out, but I almost died, and they were sure you were buried under the rubble. I grieved for you, Zander.”
“I promised I would be back.”
“My anxiety wouldn’t let me believe that.” I tried looking anywhere but in his eyes. “Don’t blame yourself, okay? You didn’t know.”
“I’m—”
“After the plant blew up, there was an inquiry. For some reason, Grisham named Matt and me as benefactors in his will, but after all that happened, all the safety questions being raised, they needed someone to blame, and the new head of the company would do.”
“Oh?” he asked. “Who was that?”
“Me. For some reason, I was named the head of the company in Grisham’s will. Probably some weird liability thing he had going on. I suspect that was the only reason he hired me. He needed a patsy in case something went down. I got dragged to court, but I had a great lawyer and we ended up turning the tables on them. I got a huge settlement. But, anyway, enough about my boring life. Marcy and Dany are getting married!”
I had to change the subject before I burst. It was hard enough talking about the worst eighteen months of my life, with the trial and the worst bout of depression I had ever suffered. I took deep breaths and smiled. He didn’t need to know how broken I was after the plant. All he needed to see was that I was fine now.
“What?” Zander gasped. “The lovebirds are tying the knot?”
“Yup!”
“Oh my stars, that's amazing!” he said excitedly. “Marcy getting married? I should probably buy them a present or something, right? What are Earth customs on the subject? Do I need to prepare an interpretive dance?”
“Yes! Of course, but, um, that may be a little tough,” I said, forcing out the words. “You see, they all think you're dead.”
“Oh,” he said, hurt, but there was no sign of surprise on his face. “I can see why. Oh, that is troublesome. I won't be able to come back to Earth, will I?”
“Well, if you wanted to”–I grinned–”we could say you survived in a secret World War Two bunker under the chasm, living off the canned food hidden there. Every day, you would dig yourself out a little more, and then, after two years, you finally made your way out.”
He laughed, the echoes lost in the roar of the wind. “Or, you could tell them I'm an immortal, regenerative alien who survived by teleportation, but because of the relative nature of the universe I only came back two years later.”
“Yeah.” I shrugged. “Even then, I think my story's a little more credible.”
“But mine's the only one that's true.”
I stared into the rising smog of the city. It was easy to tell myself this was just another city on Earth. From up here, it could have been anywhere.
“You and Matt broke up, though?” Zander interrupted my train of thought.
The question caught me by surprise, though I should have been prepared for it. I rubbed my sweaty palm on the back of my neck, forcing the bristles to lie flat.
“Yeah.” The hardest part here was to keep my face straight. “We both got out okay, but the trial, you know. So, he moved out west to help out his aunt. I haven't spoken to him since. It was an ugly breakup.”
“Did it have something to do with the whole aliens-blowing-up-his-office thing?”
“You got it.”
“Ah, well, that's what I would say is my bad.” He didn’t seem too bothered by the news. “At least no one was hurt.”
“Yup.”
A blinding flash of white light, like a bolt of lightning in the dark, slammed down in front of me. I threw both hands onto the railing, scared that I would get zapped and that I was being attacked by an unseen electrical evil.
Zander, of course, was laughing and not scared at all. Stars flickered in my eyes as I tried to wipe the light from them.
“Are you pleased with the result?” The mechanical voice came from behind my field of vision. A man flickered in and out of existence, but that was probably because my eyes hadn't recovered.
“Um, with what?” I asked, blinking the flash out of my eyes. As my vision returned, I could swear I saw a robot in front of me, an actual robot. His arm extended as he held out a computerized tablet for us to look at.
He couldn't really be a robot, could he? I mean ... he looked like one. His face was silver, with sharper angles than I had seen before, and his arms looked like ropes of metal wound around each other. Yet there was something unsettling about his face—namely, that it looked so much like an actual face. If I reached up and touched his skin, I expected it to feel springy and warm.
The robot became more insistent. He pushed the tablet at my hands again. I took it and looked down at the screen, and my heart skipped as I saw the pixels. It was a photo, an absolutely gorgeous photo. A candid picture of Zander and me as we leaned over the rails of Da-Duhui Tower, caught in deep conversation. The lights from the city below shone like beacons of different colors.
“If you like or want edits, it only costs fiiiiiive credits,” said a familiar voice. And there, standing next to the robot, was the terrifyingly clingy Mr. Gilmag. He spat out a pre-programmed jingle, “But for a credit more, you get four!”
“We'll take it,” Zander said, pulling some spare change from his pocket and slipping the coins through the slot on the robot's front.
The robot froze, processing the order. His eyes went green and flickered, which was remarkably unsettling coming from such a human-looking face. The tablet pushed out a printed piece of glossy paper in seconds, the colors more vibrant than they had been on the screen.
Meanwhile, Mr. Gilmag locked his holographic eyes on me and spouted a few facts about the tower. “Da-Duhui Tower is the largest structure on the entire planet, standing at a striking five kilometers high,” he said, and for a second I was thrilled my translator could give me metric units in space, though how accurate they were I didn't know. The next second, I scowled at that annoyingly cloying voice. “It was built during the twenty-second dynasty as a center of trade and commerce, while also serving as the largest radio broadcast tower on the entire planet. It can reach—”
“Thank you for the picture,” Zander said and bowed to the robot. “We would like some privacy now.”
“But I haven't told you about the subcontractors yet!”
“Thank you, but program off.”
“Remember to check out our historic Da-Dahuian Unity Museum!” Mr. Gilmag disappeared. The robot, however, remained.
“Now I take my leave of absence.” He gave us a short bow. “I'll be off until you need me again.”
He rolled away, creeping backward so as not to break eye contact with us. He shrunk into the shadows until we couldn't see him anymore, though I was sure I felt his lifeless eyes on me.
“That last bit didn't rhyme,” I pointed out.
“Don't be so nitpicky.” Zander laughed. “It probably rhymes in a few thousand dialects, just not yours.”
“True.” I looked down at the photo in my hands. It was beautiful, and, yet, I felt an incredible knot in my chest while looking at it. Even as Zander laughed, I could tell the gaiety in his eyes was gone now, and I sensed what was coming.
“Zander … is this a date?” I was surprised those words came out. Of all the things I wanted to ask, that probably wasn’t even near the top of my list.
Or maybe it was, and I just didn’t want to admit it.
“Why?” He paused, cocking his head sideways. “Do you … do you want it to be?”
I stared at the photo. At the two of us, happy.
But I knew full well that this was a one-time offer, a one-time thing. A late thank you for giving him a roof over his head and helping him out on my planet.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea, Sally,” he said slowly. “It’s just … I’m immortal. I’ve been alive longer than most things in this universe, and in that time, I’ve lost—a lot.”
“It’s not me, it’s you. Is that what you’re saying?”
“I don’t know what I’m saying,” he said. “Only that this shouldn’t be a date. I shouldn’t … date.”
“So, you never date? Anyone?” I looked up at his beautiful eyes, the silvery green muddled by the orange light from all around. “That must be incredibly lonely.”
“Yes and no,” he said. “I have Blayde. Whether I want her around or not, I’ll always have Blayde. That’s what family is for.”
“But—no relationships. Not even friends?”
“I have lost more friends in my lifetime than there are stars in the sky. I make friends too easily. It’s a habit I’m trying to break. I just … I don’t want to lose you.”
I had been expecting it, waiting for it, for two years. I knew how the end would be. I felt it in my stomach, the knot that formed, twisting.
He didn’t want to lose me, so he’d say goodbye forever. Logical.
I wanted to talk—really talk. But while this was the same Zander, I was a different Sally. And I knew what was coming.
“I'll never see you again, after tonight,” I managed, my voice coming out in a whisper. Yet Zander still heard me. His face was empty and devoid of emotion, giving me the short nod I’d expected.
We weren’t together, but it sure felt like a breakup. I couldn’t take in the magic of this alien world while there was this alien feeling in my chest, the feeling of losing something, someone, I never really had.
“I'll take you back to Earth, but then I have to go. Like you said, everyone there thinks I'm dead. Coming back will disrupt their lives, and they don't deserve that. You don’t need that. And besides, Blayde needs me out here. To keep—”