by IGMS
"You needn't bother." I crossed my arms. "I know what you're driving at, anyway, and I won't do it. I refuse to let you peddle me away like some slaveship cargo to that horrid planet."
"That horrid planet is green and blue and full of life." She stuck the tip of her cane into a slate-colored button on the wall. My Repli-Chef. After an image shimmered into a cup of water, she popped open the door of the appliance and threw the water out onto my floor. "On Reisas, you can drink water from streams. You eat food that actually grows from the ground."
"Sounds savage." I drew up my feet into my chair.
"Savage?" Her watery eyes narrowed. I hadn't often seen Mama Iris angry, but she was angry now, and I could feel it all the way across the room. I wanted to shrink back, but instead I lifted my chin and stared right back at her.
"You come to this window and see something savage," she said.
Now I did shrink back. I avoided the window, and kept my shade pulled as a rule. I didn't want to see what she was pointing at. Whatever it was.
"Now, Karla Jean."
Both names. Double whammy. I slinked off my chair and moved slowly toward her.
"Tomorrow when they boot your tiny fanny out through the gates with 100 units in your pocket, what's your plan? Eventually, when your lungs start filling with Black Death and you don't have five units left for a one-dose needle, what will you do?" She clutched the sash and yanked it open.
Ashen wind blew in, scattering papers off my desk. I coughed, feeling the air like sticky fingers down my throat. "Close the window, Mama Iris! Are you crazy?" I tried to slam it shut, but she poked my belly with her cane and pointed into the street.
"Look there, Karla. Blink the dust out of your eyes and look."
I blinked. The metal buildings across the street were stained with death pallor, the road below was a river of monochrome gray, and even the clothing and facemasks of milling people were the same bland color as the air. "I'm going blind," I whimpered. "Close the window."
"I won't let you go blind, child. I want you to see."
I coughed again, and held my hand over my mouth, breathing shallow.
"A five-piece, mister, just a five," said a husky voice in the street below.
I leaned over to find the speaker. A woman in a thin, once-red dress clung to a lamp pole. Lacy gloves covered her fingers. She caught a passing man by his sleeve. "A five piece buys your dream girl," she crooned, and smiled with a curving mouth that once might have been pretty. Now black spittle gathered at the corners, and, when the man reached into his pocket, she coughed, spewing tiny ink dots across his chest.
The man grimaced beneath his facemask. "Get off the streets." He withdrew his hand from his pocket, empty.
"Wait. How about a half five?" She followed him around the corner where they both disappeared.
I turned from the window. "Please close it."
The sash slid closed. "I sent your hologram to the agency months ago, Karla."
I hugged my arms to myself, staring across at my slab of gray wall. "What you're doing to me is no different than what the streets would do to me."
"A Reisan has offered to bring you over. Would you like to see him?"
"No."
"He works with his hands. A carpenter."
I gritted my teeth and willed my insides to shrivel up and hide away, out of reach.
"Karla, they are a people very much like us. Like we used to be." She laid a hologram sphere on my desk.
"How can you call them people? They aren't even human."
"They're close enough."
"Close enough to breed with, you mean." I stomped to my chair and dropped into it, sending it whirling. The room spun around me, and I watched Mama Iris swim by, over and over, like a flash of pale lightning against the stormy sky of my lodging walls. "That's all the program is," I said. "They want us to think they're being kind, saving a dying people from a dying earth, but they just need us to widen their gene pool. They buy us to breed us."
"Karla!"
"It's disgusting."
Mama Iris stuck out her cane to stop my spinning chair. "Karla Jean Tremont, where have you heard such rubbish?"
"Everyone knows it." I glared up at her. "That Reisan freak wants me to plant his food and birth his babies like some barefoot, backwoods concubine, and you're going to let him!"
Mama Iris's eyes burned hot, and her fist clenched like she was thinking of hitting me. "You will meet me in my office at dawn with your belongings in a case that will fit into the ship's overhead compartment." She turned and hobbled toward the door.
"I hate you for this," I said.
Her hand paused on the sensor button. "I know." Then she swept her hand. My door whisked open, and she strode through.
My eyes turned to the hologram sphere on my desk. I already knew what I would see when I activated it. All Reisans had green skin, just like every bad Martian movie ever filmed. They had thick, spongy hair, unless they were bald, and immense blue eyes that were all iris and no pupil. They appeared to have arms and legs and torsos like humans, but whatever else they hid under their clothing I could only imagine. And I was going to be married to one.
I welled up out of my chair, snatched the sphere, and smashed it to bits against my wall.
And dawn came, despite my spending all night resisting it. I stood in Mama Iris's office, my eyes puffy and bleary. I didn't remember sleeping at all, but I must have, because green faces had haunted my dreams.
Mama Iris's computer display was clacking like a ticker tape, filling with lines of information about my husband-to-be. I didn't want to read it. I already planned to hate my life, and knowing what to expect wasn't going to change anything.
Finally the door creaked open. Mama Iris shuffled in followed by a green creature in an expensive-looking suit. My stomach lurched. He was even more hideous than my nightmares could manufacture. He was scrawny, with arms no thicker than a child's, and his face was lumpy with acne. His hair was marigold yellow -- was that a natural color? -- and it bulged out around his head like a mushroom cap.
"Oh, Mama," I groaned, clutching at her arm. "I can't do this. Don't make me do this."
Her eyes went soft and sad for a moment, and she patted my hand. "I hope one day you'll be glad for this. Not today, I know. But someday, maybe." Then she turned. "Now, Doctor Argess is here to make sure you're healthy."
"Doctor Argess?"
"Yes," the Reisan said, stepping forward to hold a silver stick toward my face. "Stick out your tongue, please."
I obeyed. "Yow nah ma hubban?" I asked, tongue flopping.
His face curled up in disgust. "Certainly not." The silver stick jolted my tongue and I startled. He looked at a blinking display on the stick. "No diseases, no genetic predispositions. Exemplary."
"I thought he'd be coming to meet me."
"And pay for two passages on the ship?" His eyebrows, or, the place where eyebrows should be, shot up, and he looked at Mama Iris. "Does she know how expensive she is?"
"She knows little of the program, but she learns quickly."
"Hm." The doctor dropped his silver stick into his suit pocket and turned on his expensive heel. "We must hurry." He disappeared through the door.
I couldn't make my feet move. I stared at Mama Iris, waiting for her to call out and stop this, or for the sky to split and suck me up, or anything, anything at all, to keep me from doing what they wanted me to do.
Mama Iris cupped my cheek. "Be brave. When you get a chance, please satcom me. Tell me I did the right thing."
The doctor was back, tugging on my arm. I wouldn't have thought he'd be so strong, as scrawny as he was, but my feet were moving fast to keep up. Then we were outside, and Mama Iris was waving from the window. I couldn't wave back. I almost couldn't breathe. I couldn't even cry.
At the docking station, the doctor prodded me toward a metal arch. A Reisan in a yellow uniform greeted us, and the doctor held out his silver stick. The uniformed one passed a white box over
it, and when it beeped, he nodded. "Ragin Dar'el. Sherament."
"Authorized," the doctor interpreted, and pointed the tip of the stick at my left earlobe. "Cross the portal into the ship. Once there, you'll sleep." A sharp jab pierced my earlobe, and I gasped, rocking back. "I'll be beside you from now until I hand you over to your husband, who will be there when you wake up."
My earlobe throbbed, and I touched it. Something metal was stuck fast. My fingertips tried to recognize it.
"It's for the scanners. Permanent." He gripped my arm again. "Time to go."
"How long will it take?" I asked, hoping he would say a lifetime.
"Six days. To you, it will feel like tomorrow."
A line from one of my favorite books came to me. Tomorrow is another day.
I awoke groggy and restless. Something soft was under my head, but my back was stiff against hard cloth. A cot. A musty-smelling cot. I pushed up to sit.
Beside me, a black girl about my age was rousing, too. She blinked at me and rubbed her eyes. "American?" she asked.
I nodded.
"I saw you on the ship. Before I passed out." She fingered the metal dot in her ear. "I wonder if we're going to the same village."
"Village?"
"Are you going to Arway?"
"I don't know."
She yawned behind her hand. "My husband is a blacksmith. He looks strong in his hologram." She smiled. "He wrote me a letter with a poem in it. He's as nervous as I am."
"You don't look nervous."
"Neither do you. You look angry."
I turned my eyes to the room, now that my vision was clear again. The walls were white stone, with a white desk and chair near the door. I sat on a white cot, and the girl beside me was lounging on a yellow one. "No windows," I said.
"This is the recovery room. Didn't anybody explain this to you?"
I shook my head.
"It's to transition us to the atmosphere and sunlight. They gradually adjust the settings until we can breathe their air and tolerate the light levels of whatever part of the planet we're going to. I've heard they get so much sunshine in Arway they wrinkle like prunes in their old age. Isn't that something?"
"How long do we stay in here?"
She shrugged. "A few hours, I guess. I'm Shandra, by the way."
"Karla," I said. I tried to stand. My legs felt rubbery. I had to clutch the cot to keep from falling over.
"Careful. Go slow." Shandra eased her feet to the floor, too, and I noticed she had no shoes. I looked at my own feet. Bare.
"What happened to my shoes?"
"They incinerate them with the rest of your clothes, to make sure we don't bring the sickness with us."
I looked down at the baggy canvas dress I was wearing. When had they changed my clothes? I was about to ask when the wooden door of the room swung open. A chubby, white-skinned man chatted with Doctor Argess and another official-looking Reisan, dressed in something like judges' robes. Behind them, several Reisan men paced in and out of view. I caught sight of a wide-shouldered one, with thick ropes of emerald dreadlocks, and strong arms. Shandra's blacksmith, no doubt. His eyes were blue, like all of the planet's creatures, but they were soft and nervous-looking. He looked as utterly lost as I felt. I couldn't help but smile, a little. He smiled back.
I leaned toward Shandra. "He seems nice. I hope you'll be happy."
"Thank you. You too." Then she gasped quietly, and I turned back to see her gazing intently at a barrel-chested one with black eyes and a wide chin. He held out a red flower. A rose, I think, though I'd never seen a real one. She giggled, accepted the flower, and took his arm.
A throat cleared behind me, and I spun to face the Reisan who'd returned my smile. He stood six inches taller than me. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, and he wore denim pants with a rope through the belt loops. A curl of green chest hair peeked from the collar of his shirt, thick like the kind on his head. "Tremont Karla?" he asked.
I nodded dumbly. He smiled again. He had elongated incisors, like a vampire, and each tooth gleamed white behind lips a shade darker than his green face. His nose was broad, but pleasing against high cheekbones.
"I am Ragin Dar'el. I am here to marry you."
"You speak English," I said, because I couldn't think of anything else.
He nodded. "And Japanese, and I am learning Spanish. I hope to learn all major languages of your earth."
"Why?" I hadn't even bothered to study my French lessons at the orphanage.
He blinked. Or, rather, a flash happened across his eyes that appeared to be a blink. He had no eyelids.
"Shall we go, then?" asked the white man, before the Reisan could reply.
A flash of terror must have passed over my face, because his forehead wrinkled, and he leaned toward me. "Are you ill? Your face has gone paler than a cloud."
I shook my head, because if I opened my mouth, I might throw up.
"You are afraid?"
I nodded. His voice was gentle and I hated that, because it was making me want to cry, and I was trying not to feel anything.
"You are not here by your own will, are you, Tremont Karla?"
That answer I had a voice for. "No."
His blue, pupil-less eyes searched my face, and then dipped toward the floor.
"Where's my luggage?" I asked.
"Luggage?"
"I brought a case with my things. Do you have it?"
He shook his head. "All things from your city had to be burned. The sickness is heavy there."
"Burned? Everything?" The tears I'd been fighting choked my throat. I bit my tongue, forcing them back. "It was just books! How could they carry anything dangerous?"
He tilted his head at me. "I have books."
"But those were mine. Mine." Now I had nothing this planet wouldn't give me. Inside, I officially withered. At least I didn't feel like crying anymore.
The ceremony was two lines. It took place in another white room at the docking station. Someone in a pink robe spoke sing-songy, and the Reisan men, there were 20 of them now, repeated the odd phrase.
Funny how none of the women made any vows. I looked around at them, mostly my age. We seemed to be an American group, though one olive-skinned woman was whispering in Spanish. She was probably praying.
Shandra wiggled her fingers at me, her face bright like a new bride's should be. When her husband leaned in to kiss her mouth, she giggled and kissed him back.
"It is done," said the green one beside me. "A carriage will take us home." He led me away without trying to kiss me.
The outside door swung open to his world. Heat and light slammed so hard against my eyelids I thought my face caught fire. I hid behind the crook of my arm. "What's happening out there?" I asked, unable to pry open my eyes to look.
"The carriage is waiting for us," he said.
"Is it burning?"
"No." He touched his fingers to my back and guided me outside. "It is our day," he said. My feet stumbled up a platform.
From the platform, I ducked into a rounded box that sat atop four wide wheels, and was pulled by two horse-shaped animals a fair shade of maroon. Inside the box I could open my eyes again, though they watered. "Is it always so bright?"
"Unless it rains. You should have been acclimated in the recovery room." He frowned. "Others from your country did not need so long as you."
He was staring at me. I turned my face toward the window. "I thought all Reisans had blue eyes," I said.
"What?"
"Shandra's husband has black eyes. Others had green or yellow eyes. I think you were the only one with blue."
"Blue Reisan eyes are rare," he said. "But your eyes are blue, too."
I glanced at him. His gaze was still scouring me. "Your hair is the color of rensisals . . . uh, sunflowers," he said. "Your hologram didn't show it well. You looked very gray."
"I did?"
He nodded. "Your skin is like vanilla ice cream. I did not know humans could be so pale."
&
nbsp; I frowned. I knew I wasn't a stunning beauty, but I hadn't expected to disappoint him.
"Do I look like my hologram?" he asked.
"I don't know, I never saw it." I crossed my arms, and glared out the window. "I figured you all looked pretty much the same."
"Ah," is all he said, but I could feel the pain in his voice. Any other day, I might have felt sorry for hurting him. Not today.
Our travel fell into silence. I watched the landscape, helping my eyes adjust to the brightness. As they did, I was able to see the array of colors that passed. Fields of yellow and green went on as far as I could see. The sky was a blue like I'd seen in paintings. Trees huddled in groups of green and brown, dotted with flecks of crimson buds that opened to white blossoms. I'd only seen such rich countryside in photos in old books. My own earth had looked like this once, long before my time. Before Mama Iris's time, even. Before the rain forests fell, and the ozone was pierced.
At the thought of Mama Iris, my eyes filled with tears. Doctor Argess was right; it seemed like only yesterday when I saw her wave goodbye.
I felt a touch on my arm. A green hand offered me a handkerchief. I took it. I pretended my tears weren't there, and instead dabbed the cloth against my forehead, which had grown warm and sticky. "You have no fingernails," I said.
"Fingernails," he repeated, rolling the word around on his tongue. "What is this?"
"Fingernails," I said, and held out my hand toward him. "On your fingertips."
He inspected his fingers, and then leaned over to inspect mine. He reached out, curious, but I drew back my hand before he could touch it.
"What is the purpose of your fingernails?" he asked.
"I don't really know," I said.
The carriage lurched to a stop. I clutched at the seat to keep from sliding off. He swung open the door, jumped out onto the road, and lowered the platform for me to step on. I climbed down to join him.
When applause broke out, I looked up to see a crowd of smiling green faces. "Ragin Dar'el Karla!" someone announced. A musical sound, like a fife, pierced the air, and the applause turned into rhythmic clapping. Cotton-clad Reisan bodies stepped back to reveal a pathway to a small two-story hut with a shingled roof.