by Anthology
She has to stop the music.
I strode toward her, jostling through the small tables and standing, shouting, fist-waving P'twuas. Inside me, hot pink-bright: outrage, streamed alongside spinning, intense, viridian green: violence.
Someone tugged at my shoulder and spun me around. I was in the middle of a tight circle of very angry people.
"Ass-hole Earthens! Go home," a tall—to my collarbone—P'twuan shouted in excellent English. He reared his fist back and flashed it forward, hitting me in the jaw. Pain sliced through my skull and I staggered. A follow-up punch to the chest thrust me backward onto the reed-covered floor. Three sharp kicks landed against my rib cage as well as grinding pressure on my right knee, as if someone were standing on it.
Flashes of yellowwhite-hot alternated with red-streaked black.
"Ffffuck!" I shouted, once I'd caught my breath. I bucked and flailed. I was bigger than these people and, more importantly, I hadn't done anything wrong. "Back off!"
There was no more music, just crazed commotion.
An open hand reached down. I grabbed it and was pulled up, only then seeing that it was Ruk. He spoke in a firm voice to the people around me, but my brain was in no shape to interpret a language I'd only begun to learn.
A bubbling froth of grey-dirty: disordered, disgruntled confusion had replaced the fuchsia and sickening green.
Sonjec stood at the back corner behind the stage holding her instrument against her chest. She motioned for me to come. I touched Ruk. He glanced up for the briefest of moments and nodded. I left his calming presence and ran out with my sister.
***
"I didn't even know you had come," Sonjec said, mashing a cold pack on my swollen knee.
We'd escaped to Mother's swanky apartment deep in the diplomatic section of downtown O*p'toc where she served as Earth Colonies Ambassador.
"It's been a while since I've heard you play."
"It went well," she said, reclining on the plush couch perpendicular to the one I was on.
I barked a harsh laugh, but she didn't join in. I looked at her. "You were kidding, right?"
"The music, I mean. The music was going great. I loved what their language was adding. I'll have to work on the recording tomorrow." She reached over to the table, picked up her bottle of brew and took a long drag.
"Shit." I shook my head, feeling pain in my ribs, knee, chest. Once again, Sonjec gets off free and clear. "You're missing the tiny little fact that you caused a riot."
She choked, sat up and coughed. When she recovered, she shot me a withering look. "Right, Carinth. I caused that mess."
"Are you completely unaware? Something in that room changed when you started playing. Well…not at first. It built…It—"
"It had nothing to do with the music. They were drinking. It was a bar fight. Like that never happens."
She was definitely the most clueless person in the world.
"Ask Ruk," I said.
"Yeah. Ruk."
"Where'd you pick him up?"
She shrugged. "He's the reason I came."
"Huh. I thought you came because your family's here."
Sitting forward on the couch her elbows resting on splayed knees, hands holding the ale, she looked at me for a long moment. "Yeah, well, things come together that way, don't they? He wrote me. Fan mail. Asked me to come. Talked the place up. Lots of water, beaches, beautiful scenery, and he said they were a peaceful race who love music. Hah!"
"They are peaceful. They keep to their own, but I've experienced no hostility. Not till tonight."
"Humanoids will be humanoids."
"This is serious. It could cause trouble for Mom."
"Isn't that my role in the family? Some things never change. Need something for the pain?"
***
Sonjec disappeared.
I didn't know until the next evening. I slept off the drugs she gave me, felt lousy and stayed in bed.
Mother came in around supper time.
It was hard to believe that Sonjec and I were her offspring. She exuded professionalism, elegance, competence, intelligence and attractiveness—all composed into a complete package that most people found reassuring. The contrast between all that and my gawky, scattered, unfocused self was simply undermining. I had nothing of her in me.
"What do you know about last night?" she asked.
I sat up, alert for the first time all day. "I was there."
She arched a perfectly defined eyebrow from her perfectly matched set. "That was nice of you to support your sister. Tell me what happened."
I did. Honestly. I left out my sensory data, knowing it wouldn't help, but conveyed my opinion that Sonjec's music had somehow, for some reason, riled up the locals.
"You're injured?"
"Sore. Nothing's broken."
"Unfortunatley, this incident—bar fight or whatever it was—hasn't gone away. I may have a crisis on my hands. Where's Sonjec?"
"Haven't seen or heard from her since last night."
Mother sighed. "She isn't here. I've messaged her multiple times with no answer."
"She'll show up. Why would she hide if she didn't think the uproar at the bar had anything to do with her?"
But I was wrong. Another day passed with no word.
The brawl boiled over, giving rise to protests in the courtyard by Embassy Row. On the feeds there were calls for Mother's expulsion and a growing ugliness toward off-worlders. So far, because of the respect with which she was held, her diplomatic counterparts were being patient and calling for calm.
"What are they saying Sonjec did?"
Mother shook her head. "It's something she communicated through the frequlet, but I don't understand the nuances. She deeply offended the P'twuas by breaking some subtle cultural taboo. That it was inadvertent hardly matters at the moment."
Mother feared she'd been kidnapped.
Later that day, I sat in the apartment in front of the VID and watched my mother the Ambassador, in formal ceremonial uniform, as she held a press conference and apologized as thoroughly as any person could.
Afterward, I went to find Ruk.
Mother had instructed me to stay in the apartment, but I wasn't too worried about my safety. I didn't really believe Sonjec had been kidnapped.
Still, when I walked into the empty bar—the scene of the crime—I felt grateful for the first time in my life that I looked nothing like my mother or my half-sister. It was unlikely that anyone would associate me with them.
I spoke to the tender. He knew Ruk and messaged him for me. I waited out back on the lanai. The bar was on the outskirts of the city proper, near a broad ocean inlet. The stiff breeze off the briney, lavender and white water had something in it that made my skin tingle.
Why do I think I can trust Ruk? I thought, rubbing my cheeks to get rid of the itch. Maybe he lured Sonjec to Pas for political reasons. Maybe I'm walking into a trap.
I thought back to that moment when his hand reached down and pulled me off the floor. My overwhelming perception, even in the midst of that melee, had been one of bluesoft-transparent: trustworthy calm.
Bluepale is stand-offish or shy, common among P'twuas.
Bluebright involves intensity of spirit. And genius.
Ruk came around the corner. As I watched his fluid, supple stride, I re-measured this view against my first impression. No alarms sounded.
He sat down and said, "I am responsible."
"How? On purpose?"
"No. But I asked Sonjec to come. I did that because I'm convinced she will revolutionize music, but nevertheless, I brought her here."
"What happened?"
"It will be difficult for me to communicate."
"Try."
"My people—We, eh, exchange meaning on more than one level."
This was news to me. "Other than spoken language?"
He nodded. "This is a difference between earthhumans and us. Correct?"
"We understand the concept of non-verbal communicat
ion. Like…body language."
"I didn't know."
I shook my head while running thumb and middle finger down my glass, rubbing condensation off. "Not well-developed. It tends be just outside our awareness and is usually disregarded, at least consciously. There are pheromones—smells—as well, but we're hopeless in understanding those."
"I see. It is helpful that you understand there can be…levels. Ours is highly developed. In some ways more so than the words we use."
"Telepathy?"
"No. It's a common understanding of sensory perceptions." He sat back in his chair and looked away over the water, as if trying to decide how to explain.
I had been hunched forward, elbows on the small table, tense. I sat back too, and breathed in the tangy smell. His words moved me; scrambled pieces of myself shuffled into a more orderly arrangement.
A language of perception. Of course. I had known that could be possible even though those words had never formed a sentence in my head. A shiver went down my spine. I leaned forward again.
"You perceive something…a sound, a sight, a smell, the combination of several of these and it means the same thing to you as it does to the tender in there or any other P'twua?"
His head turned slowly back to me. He put his graceful, long-fingered hands on the table, faced me directly and took his time responding. "How is it that you get this so quickly? I have attempted to communicate it to Earthens and they do not understand."
"I have some…ways of perceiving that most of my people either do not have or ignore. It's called synesthesia and has never been of much use because earthhumans who have this trait don't necessarily agree on the words they use to talk about it. In me, it is an intersection of emotions and color."
He didn't have eyebrows, but his forehead wrinkled as his yellow-brown eyes widened. "I'm completely stunned. I had no idea."
"But it's not a form of communication between us. It's…internal. Private."
Now his forehead wrinkled downward in a serious expression. "Yes. Ours too, but I think in a different way. We have much to learn about each other. And we have not even been introduced properly. I am Ruk Tur*ki'tua."
I extended my hand across the table. "Carinth Kellen."
He smiled. "Sonjec is your sister?"
"Half-sister. The illustrious Ambassador is our mother, but we have different fathers. Do you know where Sonjec is?"
"No. Don't you?"
I explained the situation.
He took out his communic and began to make calls.
I waited, thinking, not about my missing sister or the looming inter-planetary diplomatic incident, but the concept of a common awareness of sensory perception.
"She was seen at my home earlier. We should go there."
"Mother thinks she was kidnapped."
"Why?"
"You tell me. What pissed everyone off?"
"I never anticipated what happened. The vocals and sounds that her instrument remixed and produced were deeply insulting."
"How?"
He struggled, and then said, "Translating is proving impossible. If there are English words, I don't know them."
"Let me tell you how I was feeling."
He nodded.
"Do you know the word chartreuse?"
He shook his head.
I took out my communic and pulled up a color chart I often referred to. I pointed to the sharp yellow-green.
"What is the word?" he said, nodding vigorously. "I must remember. This chart is excellent."
"I'll send it to you. That night, I felt nervous and that built to a high-tuned uneasiness on the edge of danger: chartreuse."
He looked at me wide-eyed. "Are you part P'twuan?"
I smiled and shook my head. I didn't know much about my father, but I knew he was an earthhuman.
"This is right," Ruk said. Chartreuse—our word is n*dua'k'ti—was present for me as well. It is a complex feeling for us. Risk, yes. Unease, yes. But also a—" He raised his hand and ran his thumb over his fingers repeatedly. "—a feel."
"Slimy?"
"Yes!"
"Oh gods. This is crazy. I understand you. So…but just that wouldn't cause a riot."
"No. I have thought of nothing else since it happened. When Sonjec took our vocalizations—what is our public communication—that went well. But her frequlet also picked up our sub-communication, this emotional-sensory layer the meaning of which is in our voices, but with no words. And she collected it and suddenly, there it was, this non-public thing, being transmitted, broadcast for all to hear."
"Communicating what?"
He shook that question off. "What's important is that we didn't like even that much. Perceptual communication is wordless, therefore private. Something we all understand but rarely talk about because…what would be the point? We felt exposed by her music and then when everyone began to express that vulnerability and displeasure, she picked that up and put it in the mix. By the time the riot broke out, the room was full of what I will call, because my English is not perfect, orange-pointy."
I stared at him with my mouth open. "Ruk, everyone's skin color changed."
He looked down and I knew I'd inadvertently evoked a strong emotion in him.
Yellowpale-muddy: shame.
"We do," he said, softly, "upon occasion, have tinges of color change in our normal complexions. It showed?"
"To me. But why is this shameful?"
"You are so direct, Carinth. It's a bit hard to handle."
"My apologies. I don't want to offend. Teach me."
"No, I like it. It's just different…and amazing. You pick up so much."
I couldn't respond. His words filled me up as nothing ever had.
His eyes narrowed. "I'm getting a perception that I would not mention if you were P'twuan. We would both simply know."
"Tell me."
"Let me look at your chart."
After a moment he said, "Orchid."
I smiled and then laughed. "Brilliant. Purple-orchid: gratitude, joy, fulfillment."
"A pure, uncommon emotion."
"We understand one another."
"So back to our evening of music…"
"Oh, god. Yes," I said, "orange-pointy is what I would call
'coral-sharp.'
He took in an audible short, crisp breath. "Exactly. I would explain this as ridicule, which mixed with our shame at having our private thoughts broadcast. Our reaction was re-mixed and blasted out of the frequlet in a complex perception that I will attempt to communicate as…passionate contempt."
"Wow."
"Yes. What color is that?"
"I don't know."
He sat back, nodding. "It is complicated."
Neither of us needed to say another word.
***
We took the chairway to Ruk's neighborhood.
I messaged Mother. She responded that she hadn't heard from Sonjec and asked if I'd seen the local news. Ruk and I put on a feed to find out that the protests in front of the Earth Colonies Embassy had grown.
"This is getting out of hand. Mother seemed rattled and that never happens."
"I'm communicating with everyone I know," Ruk said, "but my friends are not influential. I can't believe this all started from those music-heads at the bar. They're not political."
"Don't have to be. They only had to tell their story. It would be picked up and used as a weapon by those who do have an agenda."
"How do you know so much about politics?"
"I don't. You just absorb stuff when you're the daughter of a diplomat."
After he unlocked the sliding door to his one-room apartment, he stood back and motioned for me to enter. "As you see, she is not here."
I turned to him. "I didn't think you had her."
He shrugged. "You don't know me."
Oh, but I do.
A young P'twuan woman came to the door. "Ruk?"
He introduced us. She looked at me suspiciously and asked Ruk to come out in the hall.
He came back with a paper in his hand. "It's a note from Sonjec. I'm having trouble reading the handwriting." He gave it to me.
I read: Ruk, Sorry about the mess at the bar. It's not your fault. I probably won't be playing the frequlet in public ever again, so I appreciate you asking me to come. Again, sorry for the trouble. Don't know what happened. Thanks for being such a nice fan. Sonjec/CaROUSal
"She's bright blue, isn't she?" Ruk asked.
"I don't like to admit it, but yeah. Bluebright-deep: the extreme intensity of creative genius." Those were certainly words I'd never said out loud before.
"She will be depressed if she really thinks she can't play her music anymore," he said.
"Very. She's also, um…redcherry-choppy: impulsive."
"My neighbor told me that she followed Sonjec outside and joined a group your sister was talking to. There was a…I don't know…a heated discussion."
"About what?"
"That night. Sonjec seemed sorry, but clueless. They were, you know, kind of in awe of her, but also trying to figure out if she was a jerk or not. It wasn't a fight, just talking. A small crowd gathered. People my friend knows. Most hadn't even been at the bar. And then four others came up. They were P'twuan, but not from the area."
"Troublemakers?"
"No. Friendly. They told her there was a great bar where she could play music near Ku'wuat*u Beach."
"She went with them?"
"I'm guessing."
"She wasn't forced?"
"Doesn't sound like it."
"How like Sonjec to have us all worrying about her well-being while she's out partying at the beach." I sighed. "Then again, what better to lure her with than the opportunity to play music? I'm still worried. Do you know this bar?"
"No. That's the problem. It's all small rooming houses along there. A place for families. I don't remember any bar scene."
We went on Ruk's scooter.
I tried repeatedly to reach Sonjec.
It was night by the time we arrived. Two of the moons of Pas were shining over a vast expanse of deep-purple water. The sand shone pearlescent in the light. The crescent beach was bordered at both ends by maroon rock outcroppings whose edges curved downward, echoing the shape of waves about to break.
"It's breathtaking," I said over the low hum of the
scooter.
"Let's ask about her at the rentals."