by Ann Christy
This is as close as I’ve gotten to finding out what he was, and now I’m embarrassed because of the whole squid-people thing. I mean, if he ate tiny water plants, chances are he was aquatic.
I’m so rude.
“So, plants then?” I ask, veering away from any talk of squid.
“Sort of. They are plants in that they take energy from our sun, but they also have a fatty pocket under their bodies that they build up during the day. They use that fat for energy at night. They don’t have brains. That fatty pocket is what probably allowed my species to evolve like we did. Mostly, we eat right after night falls when the pocket is fattest.”
I try to imagine life like that and I can’t without knowing what he looks like. I have this feeling that he’s not yet ready to show me, which probably means he thinks I’ll react like I did to the Kassa. I sure hope I don’t. I really like Jack. I’m doing my best to think of him just as he is, because that’s the form that makes me feel very warm and fuzzy when he’s around.
Pushing my tray away, I ask, “Okay. Enough of that. What’s on the docket for today?”
His gray-blue eyes are steady on me when he says, “I want to show you something.”
“Uh oh. That sounds ominous,” I mutter before I can stop myself. Does that mean he’s going to show me what he is? I’m going to try and be very cool at this point. No matter what it is, I’m going to react with a smile.
He stuffs the last bit of his toast into his mouth and stacks the trays while he chews, making a face at me while he does it. The way he does it is far too cute for words. When his mouth is clear, he says, “No. It should help you understand how things work here.”
I know where we’re going before we get to the door. It’s the medical room from before. I stop short in the hallway and say, “No. I’m not ready for that.”
While I’m not certain, I think Jack rolls his eyes before he turns around. He has that set to his shoulders that screams eye-roll.
“Not for you. I promise.”
My stomach is suddenly queasy, but I suck in a breath for courage and follow him to the door. The room is already set for us because we get that same Earth atmosphere notice and the door opens. Nothing looks different than before and there are no other people. I was sort of thinking it might be another non-transfer I could watch.
Instead, Jack walks over to one of the long tables and says, “Hub, will you talk for me?” With that, he whips off his shirt.
“What are you doing? Stop!” I squeal, even as he’s reaching for the button on his jeans.
He smiles rather rakishly, then says, “Oh, sorry. Forgot about that. My people don’t wear clothes. You can just turn around.”
Hub breaks into our conversation and says, “Good morning, Lysa. Jack is going to undergo replacement, so you can view the process.” The big transparent bubble over the table goes opaque in the middle, right about the place where Jack’s privates will be when he lies down on the table. “That should make it more comfortable for you to watch.”
Jack is still standing there, waiting for me to either turn around or say it’s okay, but I saw something when he took off his shirt and it’s bugging me. There was a pattern on his back. It looked dark gray, almost like a tattoo, whirls and swirls sweeping down the general area of his spine. “Um, Jack. What’s that on your back?”
He walks over to me and turns around so I can see. “It’s my trace.” He looks over his shoulder at me and adds, “You can touch it if you want.”
The way he says it and the grin he’s wearing means he’s teasing me again. Even worse, he knows it. I raise an eyebrow at him and that makes him laugh.
“Whatever,” I mumble, but the thing on his back has my attention and I reach out to touch it. The pattern is slightly raised, but it feels like skin. I don’t think this is a tattoo so much as something underneath his skin that shows through. It’s beautiful, swirling out from a complex intertwined pattern running down his back.
“What’s a trace?” I ask, running a fingertip along the pattern in the center.
“It’s a compromise we make when changing bodies. It’s so I don’t forget everything I know from other bodies. The way you’re put together and the methods by which you sense things are very different from the way I do in my original form. This lets me remember sensations and experiences that have no corollary in this body. It lets me remember what something felt like when I’m in a body that’s incapable of feeling things the same way I felt them in a different body.” He cranes his neck harder to see me better and asks, “Make sense?”
“It’s beautiful,” I say, because it is.
“Well, I like it. You ready?”
My fingertips feel different when I lift them away from his skin. I’ve never actually touched a guy on his bare back before. It’s nice and my cheeks feel hot. I nod because that’s pretty much all I can do.
He reaches for his waistband, so I turn around quick-like and try not to think about him taking off his clothes a few feet away. Whistling helps. I hear the bubble lifting and him sliding onto the gel-like surface, then there’s a hiss of noise.
Hub says, “You can turn around now, Lysa.”
I sort of peek through squinted eyes until I’m sure it’s safe. He’s under the bubble and grinning at me. The center is safely opaque, so I can’t see the parts of him that would cause immediate death through embarrassment.
“Are you ready, Lysa?” Hub asks.
“No, but go ahead.”
For a few seconds, I don’t think anything is happening. I mean, I expected one of the other tables to start growing a new Jack or something, but nothing like that happens, so I look down at his face under the bubble. He’s growing somehow indistinct or less substantial. It almost looks like he’s disappearing, but getting bigger at the same time.
He’s not moving, and I get the impression that he’s frozen. He’s about twice the volume he was when he went in and he looks strangely insubstantial. It’s like someone took a picture of him and then put blank pixels in between each pixel of his image. This is weird.
“What’s happening?”
“This is the first part of the procedure. Right now is when I would adjust his genetic information or correct problems. I don’t need to do that, so we’re simply pausing.”
“Does he feel this?”
“No, there is a cessation of awareness when the procedure starts. As of this moment, Jack does not exist as an entity.”
“So, you don’t make a new one? You replace the old one by making the old one into the new one?”
“In this case, yes. If Jack were to need a new form, then he might require different material, or less material, or more. You understand?”
I bend close to the place where his head is and the notion of him being spread out is enhanced. It’s too fine-scaled for me to see it, yet I do see the effect. “I get it. So, when you make our replacements for Earth, you use entirely new material. That’s why they’re different to you, why they don’t seem the same as the original person.”
“Exactly so. At least initially.”
“Listen, I’m glad to know this, but seeing him like this is freaking me out. Can you put him back together?”
Before I even finish my request, I can tell it’s happening. There’s a contraction in his form and he becomes more vivid, more concentrated. The change is obvious now that I’ve seen him the other way. Within a minute, he winks at me like nothing happened. When the bubble unseats with a hiss, I turn around again. The sound of his clothes sliding back onto his body is strangely intimate, but then again, I just saw him come apart, atom by atom. Or maybe it’s molecule by molecule. What’s more intimate than that?
“Was it weird?” he asks. “Oh, you can turn around now.”
He’s stuffing his feet into his shoes and grinning at me, his hair mussed from pulling on his shirt and in every way perfect. I’m not sure what comes over me, but I step close and ask, “Will you kiss me?
”
For once I think I’ve stumped him. As in truly stumped. Not even Hub makes a sound, so it’s possible I’ve stumped the station too. I hope so, because that would mean I can at least do something unpredictable.
“Now?” he asks.
He must see the way my face falls, because he grabs my arm when I try to back up. Being told no to a request like that is probably one of the most humiliating things that can happen. Before I can start apologizing, he leans down and presses his lips to mine. As in, just presses.
Like…what? This isn’t a kiss so much as a weirdly uncomfortable breech in our personal space. This is not what I imagined.
I pull my face away and ask, “You know about dolphins, but not how to kiss?”
“Well, define kiss. I’ve got a full range here. I’m using the one most appropriate with your age group.”
I snort a laugh and say, “Here, let me show you.”
And I do.
Twenty-Six
So, yeah, I just did that. And he’s surprisingly good at it. It’s not like I’m a judge or anything, but I’ve kissed a couple of guys. I’m not twelve.
“Why did you want to do that?” he asks when I pull away. He looks a bit dazed and his cheeks have gone pink-ish.
Putting a hand to his chest and pushing him back a little, I suck in a deep breath and say, “Okay, Hub. I’m ready for my turn.” To Jack, I say, “I wanted to do that while I’m still my original self.”
He smiles and gives me some space. “No problem. I liked it.”
Argh. I want to sink into the floor. Instead, I twirl a finger in the air. “Turn around. No peeking.”
Getting undressed is almost as weird as him getting undressed. The bubble is already up, so I slide onto the cool surface of the bed and say, “Hub, you need to adjust that thing for privacy.” The bubble adds a bit more opaque surface. As it lowers, the sensation of being trapped grips me. I barely manage not to squeal and push it away. Hub’s voice sounds like it’s coming from right next to my ear. “May Jack watch, Lysa?”
“Uh, yeah. Just don’t show him any of my private parts.”
“Of course not.”
Jack turns around and walks over, smiling down at me through the bubble. I see his mouth move and can read the words, It’s okay. I nod and try to smile back.
“Lysa, did you want an implant like Jack’s?”
I consider that for a second, but the truth is that I want one. I want the freedom it offers and the information I can get from having it. And if working here is really a possibility, then I’ll need one eventually.
“Yes. You’re only going to correct my problem aside from that, right?”
“You should feel no different after the procedure until your next menstrual—”
“Stop! Okay, enough. I don’t need you to explain that part. I figured that much. Just go on and do it before I chicken out…um…I mean, lose my nerve.” I’ve got to start changing the way I speak now that I know chickens are sentient, as least sentient in the chicken way of being sentient.
For the briefest second, I feel really strange. The sensation is similar to what I felt when I went through the portal, that untethered feeling. Then, suddenly, Jack’s face is closer to the bubble and he’s grinning from ear to ear.
Is that it?
The bubble rises, and Jack turns around. “Did you do it?” I ask.
In my head, I hear the answer and let out a yelp of alarm. The procedure is complete, Lysa.
“Is that you, Hub? That is so weird!”
You can speak to me this way too.
Can you hear me, Hub?
I can. If you need to make contact, use this virtual interface.
An array of information pops up so suddenly that I step backward and bump into the bed. I see Jack make as if to turn, but he doesn’t. All the information is overlaying the real room around me. I want it to go away. The input is too much. As soon as I think that, the overlay disappears.
“We can go over it later, if you like. Or Jack can,” Hub says, using words I can hear with my ears. Thank goodness.
“Okay,” I say, reaching for my clothes. As I put them on, I try to decide if I’m different. Do I feel different? No, other than the weird overlay thingie shaking me up, I feel the same. Even the scars on my legs are there.
When I’m dressed, and Jack is facing me again, he grins. “Well?”
I shrug and say, “I feel the same. But I’m fixed? Really?”
He nods. “And you can do this to fix an injury too. Let’s say you break a leg or something. If you get into a medical bed, it will do the same, but put you back together the way you were before.”
“That’s super convenient.”
“Shall we go? I can help you with your implant.”
I’m still overwhelmed and stuck with the idea that I’m no longer the person who was born on Earth, not the person born from my mother. I’m not who I was. But, of course, I am. I’m made from the same material, but my genes are now different. I’m a new person, yet I’m me.
I think I understand how hurt and confused the replacements feel now. And my poor mom. The original and the replacement. What must she have thought in the moment before the gun went off?
Shaking my head to clear the gloomy thoughts, I say, “Yeah, let’s do this.”
*****
That night I split my time between painting and using my interface to answer my own questions. I’m amazed at what I can access. And getting answers like this is so much easier. It’s like the answer is just there, right where I need it. Plus, I don’t get only words. I get images, feelings, and sensations to go with it.
The implant is very addictive. I don’t think these would be good for humans to have on a long-term basis. We’d spend all our time experiencing things from other perspectives. Because yeah, you can do that too.
Very weird, but exceptionally cool.
I finish up my initial color blocking on the view of the Bluriani ship and lean back to decide if I like my painting. I’m not very good at depicting reflective surfaces yet, but I kind of like where this picture is going. I’ve been painting so much that my paint box is a hot mess of color splatters and there are squished tubes in the drawers.
Using my interface is still uncomfortable for me, but Jack managed to show me enough so that I can limit what shows. I can add more info as I get comfortable, but that sense of vertigo when everything I see is overlaid by an interface makes it too difficult for me to fully utilize yet. I’ve got a lump on my brand spanking new shin from bumping into a chair while trying to navigate my room with a full interface on. Jack thought that was funny until I offered to kick him in the shins to show him how it felt.
When I bring up the interface now, a nice diminutive little bit of info shows up in the corner of my vision where I can see it, but it doesn’t cover my center field of view. Sending thoughts to ask questions isn’t as easy as I might have imagined, but I want to practice, so I ping Hub.
Hub, can you tell me about the Bluriani? What’s the big mystery?
I can, Lysa. What would you like to know?
First, are they here? If so, why hasn’t anyone seen them? Why can’t they change forms? And what does it mean to be non-corporeal anyway? Does that mean ghosts?
The Bluriani are here, but also not here, not in a form that would allow interaction to occur the way you and Jack interact.
Why do they have ships and no one else does?
Why do you think no one else has ships?
Hub’s got me there. I just assumed, and we all know what that does. Okay, if they aren’t here, why do they have ships here?
Do you bring all your possessions with you everywhere you go, Lysa?
Okay, Hub got me again and even more, I can feel that it knows it. I’m getting a distinctly smart-alecky gotcha vibe through my implant.
That might be the hardest part of getting used to the interface. Emotional nuance comes through.
It’s sort of like body language. In the same way I can hide body language if I try, I can refrain from conveying emotion via the interface, but it takes work.
It was super awkward with Jack while he was showing me how to use it, because I kept noticing his cuteness. Every single thought like that bled through to him, as if I’d spoken it aloud. But, yeah, I know Jack likes me the same way I like him now. Absolutely and without a doubt. I suppose that could be considered a bonus from having an implant. My emotions leak through, but the same goes for everyone else.
And right now, I know Hub is amused. It clearly doesn’t have to work to use the implant, which means it wants me to know it’s amused. And I want to be serious, so I make no effort to suppress that emotion.
Alright, Lysa. I’ll answer if I can. The Bluriani ships can be configured for almost any species. Even aquatic species require only minimal modifications, though there are no space-faring aquatic species in our galaxy. They are exceptional vessels and we have a sufficient number for any need that might arise.
Do you control the ships, Hub? I mean, do you take them places?
No, Lysa. Once a crew boards, I have no further control. The ships have nothing more than their regular command and control systems. While those systems are much like me in many ways, they’re a lower-level version of me, yet also entirely independent. I do not control the ships in the way you might be thinking.
Why aren’t we allowed to go in one? I mean, you control that.
Lysa, I do not control it in the way you think. My interference is related to safety. I do not interfere in free will. That is not my purpose. A docked ship can be a hazard to those around it. If you were to enter and initiate ship activity, even by accident, you might harm anyone working within the dock area. Such activities require coordination for the safety of others. Coordination is not the same as control.
I think I understand what Hub is saying. This is probably no different than a ship docked at a pier on Earth. If you have divers cleaning the bottom, you don’t start the engines. It makes sense.