Lightspeed Magazine - January 2017

by John Joseph Adams [Ed. ]

  To be fair, Linger’s menu had been a little weird for Donna, too, but she’d done all right with red wine, an order of sweet potato waffle fries, and the kofta, which turned out to essentially be meatballs dressed up for a night out.

  Glreerak had liked everything, and the drinks along with the view of the city skyline had made it a bit homesick for its watery world.

  “You can control other creatures with your mind?”

  Glreerak didn’t answer; it just sipped on its cocktail, some weird thing called “Streets of Puebla” that Donna hadn’t liked at all.

  “Well,” it said after swallowing, “yes. My telepathic prowess is why they chose me.”

  Whatever she’d eaten for dinner felt like a cold and leaden lump inside her.

  “So you knew.”

  “Knew what?”

  “That you’d be able to control … us. ”

  “No!” Glreerak pursed its lips. “We wondered— hypothesized, as my mate would say. But we didn’t know. I mean, it was a week before I felt comfortable enough to try, just to see. And it was you who inspired me, Donna. Your body was so soft—you seemed so receptive to pleasure. I had to see you! The shape of you, all of you. The way you responded to him, I couldn’t let my time on Earth go by without taking advantage of the endless possibilities you suggested to me …”

  Was it wooing her with sweet talk to distract her from the idea of a mass invasion? Were Glreerak’s people testing the waters, so to speak, to turn humanity into their next generation of garbage-hauling slaves?

  “You know, Donna,” it said, reaching its hand across the table to take hers, “when your husband takes his turn living in my head, we will be revealing our planet’s secrets to your species.”

  More than thoughts of their lovemaking, this distracted Donna from her worries of a future invasion. “What?”

  “Eventually he will return with me. I am to spend a year with him, then he will spend a year with me.” Glreerak looked upset. “I know he has been concerned about how to tell you—how to explain his absence. I thought you should know, though.”

  “He agreed to all this without …” Donna shook her head. She was so unimportant to him. What a fool she had been!

  “Are you upset about the idea of losing him for so long?”

  Donna looked up from her wine, saw the gleam of the ocular implants as it tilted its head at her like a quizzical puppy. She was upset—but she was upset about losing Glreerak; jealous that Jared, who had all the sense of wonder of a sack of potatoes, would get to live with it on its planet. Would get to see how it made love to its mate.

  She laughed. It was the only thing she could to, really. “Well, maybe he’ll come back with a few new tricks to try on me after watching you with your mate.”

  “Perhaps. At home, I would be the one to be fertilized.”

  Donna blinked at it. “You’re a woman?”

  “No, you’re a woman. I’m barely female! It’s rather a bit more complicated, at home. If we were interested in reproducing, my mate would fertilize me. Once the egg developed to its solid jelly form, I would pass it back to be incubated in my partner’s pouch. Eventually we would give it over to the city, where it would be implanted into a host along with the rest of the eggs around its stage. Once fully mature, it would hatch, and eat its way out of—well,” it trailed off, seeing her face. “The point is, when we fuck for pleasure, it’s a bit different.”

  “Sounds like it will definitely broaden his mind.” Donna smiled. “Glreerak …”

  “Yes?”

  “Even if we only have a year, we have a year. Together. Let’s make it a fun one.”

  “It has been already!”

  “Sure, the past few weeks have been great, but still—you didn’t come all the way to Earth just to go to work under DIA every day and live in Aurora.”

  “Well, a month from now, Jared’s going on a tour of world heritage sites …” Glreerak paused. “Don’t be upset … you were to come on that one. Mr. Smoot has been arranging it with your job. It was to be a surprise. That’s why I didn’t tell you, either. You know I would have, don’t you, Donna?”

  “Well then let’s at least go away for a weekend. To the mountains, maybe. Together. Just the two of us, I mean. When we go abroad, I’m sure we’ll have all kinds of handlers and such. If you—if Jared could get a half-day some Friday …”

  Glreerak nodded, smiling in that way Jared never smiled at her. “Sounds delightful,” it agreed. “I’ll ask for the …” its eyes went a bit dim as they did when it was searching through Jared’s mind for the correct turn of phrase, “time off. ”

  “Good.” She reached for the small menu beside her elbow. “But first, how about dessert?”

  • • • •

  She decided on Steamboat Springs. It was inexpensive now that the snowpack was mostly gone, she knew no one who lived in the area, and there was a legendary hot spring up there, Strawberry Park, that was supposed to be gorgeous. Plus, the drive up would show Glreerak the mountains, where the aspens were still the pale gold-green of springtime against the dark pines.

  It was exhilarating. The whole drive, Donna felt like she was going on a dirty weekend, even though it was her husband was in the passenger’s seat. Well, sort of.

  Glreerak was pleased with everything—pointed out gorgeous vistas, gasped as they crested various passes. Jared would only have remarked on the traffic; worried whether they should have made dinner reservations.

  Saturday, they took a picnic lunch up to the springs, sandwiches and chips and a can of the kale-flavored soda that Donna had only ever seen Glreerak buy. By late in the afternoon, they’d had enough of dipping in the various pools, heating up and cooling down by turns. But that was fine, they had urgent business in the hotel room.

  Donna’s googling had told her Café Diva was a hot spot even in the warmer weather, but when they walked in the door, she saw something she didn’t like one bit. Vicky and her husband Mark were there, and before Donna could suggest ought to go elsewhere to avoid being spotted, they were.

  “Donna!” cried Vicky. “I didn’t know you and Jared would be here this weekend. You sly dogs, are you on a lovers’ getaway?”

  “Haha,” said Donna, just like that—not a laugh, but a statement. “Yeah, we are, you caught us.”

  “We are, too! Come on, join us for dinner! It’ll be fun, you can go back to your place after.” She winked outrageously at Donna. “We’ve only just ordered starters.”

  “Oh, we wouldn’t want to …”

  “To what? Have fun? Come on, you won’t be bothering us.”

  Donna looked to Glreerak. It shrugged.

  They actually had a really nice dinner. Glreerak did well with Vicky and Mark, even if sometimes it had to think, scanning through Jared’s brain, before responding. Donna ordered a second bottle of wine to keep them from noticing too much. It seemed to work.

  Back at the hotel, Donna collapsed onto the bed.

  “That was close,” she said. “I’m so glad we’re free of them. I could barely eat, I was so worried.”

  Glreerak pushed her skirt up over her thighs. “Your species’ constant need for nourishment isn’t unpleasant, but it’s a shame we have to leave the hotel to do it.”

  “We can order room service tomorrow morning.”

  “Good. No more distractions from what really matters.”

  It was the longest amount of time they’d spent together without letting Jared surface. Donna felt bad—a little bit, at least—but she hadn’t wanted to argue with her husband about the drive, where to stay, what to do, where to eat. She’d wanted to enjoy some time with Glreerak without distractions, just for once.

  When they cruised back into town that Sunday, after grabbing a late lunch in Denver, she felt a bit low to have to return to her marriage; her life. Even the idea of their upcoming around-the-world trip couldn’t cheer her. Glreerak had said they’d see the Library of Celsus—the Parthenon—the Pyramids—the Great Wall�
��the Tower of London—Machu Picchu … but she’d be seeing it all with Jared. She would know Gleerak was there, just beyond Jared’s eyes, but they wouldn’t be together. Not really.

  They’d agreed on a cover story: A stomach virus had knocked Jared out all weekend. As Donna unpacked the last of their things, Glreerak changed into pajamas and got into bed.

  “Wow, it must have really knocked me out,” remarked Jared, as Donna brought him a glass of watered-down Gatorade. “Well, I’m feeling better now.”

  “I’m so glad,” said Donna. “You were really miserable. Probably best you don’t remember it.”

  “Would you bring me my laptop? I ought to see if any work emails came in while I was so out of it …”

  Yeah, maybe some new alien species made contact with the secret research facility where you work, she thought, but all she said was, “Sure.”

  She took a long shower; took her time drying off. She’d brought her pajamas with her into the bathroom—it was silly, but she felt less comfortable changing in front of Jared of late. When she re-emerged, he was in bed, laptop open. He was staring intently at the screen.

  “Hungry at all?” she asked, putting a little hopefulness into her voice, as if urging him.

  He said nothing; didn’t look up at her.

  “Well … let me know if you need anything,” she said. “I’m going to watch a little TV.”

  “No,” he said. “Wait. ”

  When he looked up at her, finally, his expression was not a friendly one.

  “More Gatorade?” she asked.

  “I don’t want any goddamn Gatorade,” he said, throwing off the covers and advancing on her. Donna shrank against the wall. Jared was really upset; he didn’t usually swear …

  “What’s wrong?”

  “What’s wrong? What’s wrong is that I was in Steamboat Springs this weekend,” he said. “Apparently I had a lovely dinner with Vicky and Mark in some restaurant up there. But how could that be, if my wife assures me I was sick in bed?”

  Donna didn’t know what to do. She hadn’t anticipated this; hadn’t thought she would ever be caught. Oh, she’d been such a fool!

  “Nothing to say?”

  She shrugged; shook her head.

  “How long have you known?”

  “Known … about Glreerak?”

  “Who?”

  Donna felt faint. “Your … your experimental collaborative co-consciousness.”

  Jared’s eyes went wide. He grabbed his phone; dialed quickly. “I need someone here, now. To bring me in,” he said. “Yes. Yes. Yes!” He hung up the phone.

  “Bring you in?”

  “You think I’m going to drive, knowing it could take me over at any moment?” he snarled, almost yanking out a dresser drawer in his haste to grab a shirt. “Oh god, what am I going to tell them? None of us knew it even had a name, much less that it could make a puppet of me without my consent of my knowledge! None of us … except you. ”

  “I can explain …”

  “Oh, please do!” he said, struggling into a pair of sweatpants. “I’m eager to hear you explain going out of town for a weekend with it.” His eyes snapped back to hers. “You fucked it, didn’t you? You fucking fucked it!”

  Donna wished Glreerak could intervene, but it had told her it was more difficult to take over Jared when he was emotionally agitated. She would just have to deal with this on her own. “Well …” she began.

  “Never mind! I don’t want to hear it, actually. I’m leaving,” he said unnecessarily, “and I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

  “What’s going to happen?” she asked.

  “It’s not up to me,” he snapped. “But I have my doubts they’ll be pleased. This was not part of our agreement! Jesus, they can take us over! No wonder they were so eager for this partnership … this is not good, this is really not good. Where are they?” he said, stomping out of the bedroom.

  Donna felt a chill as she followed him into the living room, and not in regards to Jared’s fears of planetary domination. “Can’t we talk about this?” she said, pleading with him.

  “Talk? Talk about what?”

  “Are they going to terminate the … the co-habitation?”

  “Probably! Donna, I was supposed to be reporting anything strange. This is new technology—new law—new everything!” He shook his head. “I’m such an idiot. I knew something was wrong, but I believed your excuses. How stupid of me, to trust my own wife!”

  Now Donna was furious; all her rage came bubbling up like lava, hot and toxic. “Trust! You want to talk about trust? If Glreerak hadn’t told me, how would I have known? You never even told me where you worked, what you did!”

  “It’s top secret!”

  “Top secret!” She scoffed at him. “You reached for me that first night, you know. Did it excite you, the idea of it watching us?”

  He blushed. She’d never seen him blush, not in a decade of marriage. “It was here to learn about us! That includes how married couples … um, behave with each other!”

  “I guess it learned a hell of a lot, didn’t it? Mission accomplished.” Something occurred to Donna, contemplating the way she and Jared had behaved with one another, before Glreerak. She really didn’t want to go back to that. Couldn’t go back to that. “Maybe … maybe you won’t have to terminate the relationship. Maybe there’s a way …”

  “What?” Jared’s face crumpled. “A way? You’re more worried about losing your lover than my mental health! It was taking me over, Donna! It pushed me out of my own mind, my own body! My own marriage!”

  “No. We pushed ourselves out of that.”

  There was a knock at the door. Donna answered it. There stood Mr. Smoot; behind him were several military men brandishing weapons. Mr. Smoot was the only one who appeared unarmed, but given everything, it wouldn’t surprise her if he had something concealed on his person.

  “Come in,” she said, as if this were the most typical of social calls.

  “I’m afraid I can’t,” said he, equally pleasant. “Jared? Is that you?”

  “Yes, it’s me, ” he said, not exactly elbowing his way past Donna, but not waiting for her to move out of the doorway, either. “Let’s go.”

  They walked to the black car parked in the driveway, Donna barefoot and following at a bit of a distance. She felt embarrassed to be seen with her damp hair and worn cotton pajamas, but she couldn’t help but tag along. She would likely never speak to Glreerak again. She had no idea if she would ever see Jared, either. He had to come back at some point … didn’t he?

  Who could say? He’d never told her anything about any of it.

  There was no time to ask. Mr. Smoot got in the driver’s side, and Jared slammed the car door shut in her face as she approached. He had clearly not calmed down at all, but maybe Glreerak would peek through, one last time. She looked into her husband’s eyes, hoping to see the familiar gleam … but as Mr. Smoot put the car in reverse, late afternoon sunlight glinted off the passenger window. It was impossible for Donna to tell who it was who mouthed “goodbye.”

  *

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Molly Tanzer is the author of forthcoming novel Creatures of Will and Temper, as well as Vermilion, The Pleasure Merchant, and the British Fantasy and Wonderland Book Award-nominated collection-cum-mosaic novel A Pretty Mouth. Her short fiction has appeared in Nightmare Magazine, The Lovecraft eZine, and the forthcoming Transcendent: The Year’s Best Transgender and Genderqueer Speculative Fiction, as well as many other locations. Her other editorial projects include being the editrix of Congress Magazine, which publishes thoughtful erotica, and c0-editing Swords v Cthulhu (with Jesse Bullington) and the forthcoming Mixed Up! (with Nick Mamatas). She lives in Boulder, CO.

  *

  Seven Salt Tears

  Kat Howard | 2455 words

  When I was a child, my mother would tell me stories of the sea. When I couldn’t sleep, when I was restless, when I burned with some childhood fever, she would s
it by my side, and conjure something wonderful and strange, something half-magic, from the ocean for me.

  “Mara,” she would say, smoothing the hair from my forehead as she tucked the covers around me, “did you know that to summon a selkie, you must shed seven tears into the ocean? Salt for salt.”

  Mara, she had named me, because it meant bitter. Bitter as salt, bitter as the ocean. She told me I was her saltwater child, her ocean girl.

  “What happens then? After the selkie comes.” I kicked at the sheets, freeing my feet from their tangles.

  “Well, you swim, don’t you? You and the selkie. And if you are very, very lucky, you will learn where the selkie keeps their skin.”

  She would tell me stories of impossible things, of sealskins slid on and off as if it were nothing, of ways people remade themselves and plunged into those salt waters as if they belonged there. They were my favorite stories, these tales of the ocean that was both the same as the one outside and yet also full of wonders, just beneath the surface. When she told them, I would settle in, safe in my bed, and at the same time, carried away on the tide of her words.

  • • • •

  I wake with the taste of salt on my lips and the scent of the tide in my nose. My sheets, worn linen, cling damply to me. Not the damp of sweat, I realize as I rub the sleep from my eyes, but the damp of seawater. My bed is wet, the outline of my body in the mattress a small tide pool. Green kelp clings in ribbons to my calves.

  Outside, waves crash.

  I dip my fingers in the water and taste, even though I don’t need to. Even though I know: bitter as salt. Salt as the ocean.

  There is no set of drying footprints leading from the beach, no grains of sand stuck in my bare feet. Just a tiny scrap of ocean, filling the space where I had lain. Drops of water weep from my skin, far more than seven, though I am not looking for a selkie.

  A seagull cries out, lonely among the stars.

  • • • •

  A hurricane blew through when I was eleven. Hurricane Abigail. “Is it because Abigail sounds like a gale that the storm has that name?” I asked my mother, raising my voice to be heard over the howl of the wind, loud enough to shake the shutters on our house. We had storms often enough, but even then, far on Abigail’s outer edge, hours before landfall, I could tell this was something different. I could feel the weight of the storm in my bones.