by Jack Doe
"Anul'thek?" Bryce called as he opened the door, a light turning on when the door opened. The centaur started awake, sat up, and then got to his feet.
"Hello, Bryce," he said. He frowned, thinking through the appropriate greeting. "How was work?" he asked.
"Distracting," Bryce said, flopping into a camping chair next to the door. He pulled the door closed, and the light turned off. He flipped a switch, manually turning the light back on. Brooms, shovels, rakes, hoes, and other yard implements stood along the sides of the shed. The mower and some of the other implements had been pushed outside somewhere to make room for Anul'thek. Actually, this was the cleanest Bryce had ever seen the shed.
"Distracting? Why?" Anul'thek asked.
"'Cause I have a centaur living in my shed right now," Bryce said wryly, grinning as he opened his soda.
Anul'thek shrugged his shoulders in confession and then grinned. "Yes, that could be distracting," he said.
"Do you want one?" Bryce asked, gesturing to his soda.
"What is it?" Anul'thek asked.
"It's a soda," Bryce said. "You drink it."
"May I taste it?" Anul'thek asked.
"Sure." He offered the soda to Anul'thek, who sipped it and handed it back. His eyes went wide. "That's really good!" he said enthusiastically.
"You can have that one," Bryce said with a chuckle, giving him the can and opening the other one for himself. Anul'thek slurped the soda, savoring the taste of it.
Bryce let him relish the drink for a moment, and then said, "Grandpa says y'all talked a lot while I was gone. Is that true?"
Anul'thek nodded. "Yes, we talked at length, and my mentor talked to him as well."
"There was another centaur here?!" Bryce sat up abruptly, almost spilling his drink.
"No, no," Anul'thek replied quickly. "He spoke through me."
"Oh," Bryce said. "Well, do I get to know what you talked about?"
Anul'thek smiled. "We talked about whether my people would reunite with your people," he said.
Bryce's eyes widened. "Will they?" he asked anxiously.
Anul'thek's face gave him the answer before he said it. "No, they will not," he said sadly.
"But why not?" Bryce asked. "Are we not good enough for you?"
Anul'thek bit his tongue.
"Bryce, this is Ing'ma. I am Anul'thek's mentor," Anul'thek said.
"Really?" Bryce asked elatedly. "That's awesome!"
"I'm pleased to meet you," Ing'ma continued.
"Well, I'm pleased to meet...you talking...too," Bryce said eagerly yet confusedly.
Anul'thek chuckled on his mentor's behalf. "You wanted to know if mankind is not good enough for the centaurs," he said. Bryce nodded dejectedly. "We are afraid for our safety and the safety of our families," Ing'ma said.
"But you're safe here! I mean, nobody's found out about Anul'thek, and he's fine...here...in the...shed." Bryce was beginning to think that his argument might not hold a lot of weight.
"But there are too many of us to fit into a shed, young human," Ing'ma said gently. "Our ship is very large, and we have to have a place to land it that will not attract attention."
Bryce frowned thoughtfully. "Just how large are we talking?" he asked.
"Four hundred feet on a side," Ing'ma replied.
"That big?" Bryce asked, surprised.
"Yes. It has to support all of us living here," Ing'ma replied. "As I said, we won't fit into a shed. The fact that we would have to hide makes it difficult for us." He sighed. "We had expected that mankind would be rather different from how it is now," he said regretfully. "We ran many calculations that predicted that mankind would be ready to have us back. But we see that mankind still fights amongst itself so much that were we to set foot on the planet, mankind would try to use us to harm itself. We aren't willing to take that risk. We came to be friends, but mankind is not ready, yet."
Bryce's shoulders slumped.
"I'm sorry, Bryce," Anul'thek said, putting a hand on Bryce's shoulder. "Believe me, I am just as disappointed as you are." He knelt down and lifted Bryce's chin. Bryce's eyes and cheeks were wet. "But remember," he said, "life is joyous."
Bryce struck the centaur's hand down and stood. "What does that even mean?" he demanded angrily and stormed back to the house. Anul'thek sighed, closing the door.
Chapter 13
"I knew it, Ing'ma," Anul'thek said sadly to his mentor. "I knew they weren't ready."
"I know, Anul'thek," Ing'ma said apologetically. "You were absolutely right, and we should have listened."
"At least our people are still safe," Anul'thek replied. His tone grew even sadder. "I am sorry for the human. I can feel his disappointment. Both of them want so badly for this to work, yet both of them feel utterly helpless to do anything."
"They're right," Ing'ma said. "They are, in this, helpless. They cannot change the direction of their people any more than you or I can change the direction of our people. At least we have a strong propensity for logic to our benefit. Humans are still extremely emotional beings. They think with their hearts long before they think with their heads. Everything I said to the older one is true: until their civilization decides to wash its hands of the greed and infighting, there is nothing that these two can do."
"There must be something we can do," Anul'thek said.
Ing'ma's tone was slightly teasing but good-natured. "Are you going to single-handedly change the hearts of the billions of humans on the planet, Anul'thek?"
Anul'thek shook his head. "No, I don't mean for mankind; I mean for these two. They are good people who have clung to the notion that centaurs are good and just and wise in spite of the lies that pervade their society. Is there nothing we can do for them?"
"Like what, Anul'thek?" Ing'ma asked. "I'm open to suggestions."
Anul'thek wracked his mind. "What if we were to take them back with us?" he asked.
"Anul'thek, Charles is already past his prime. By the time he made it to Eve'gil, he would have aged considerably." Anul'thek sighed. "And what kind of a life would that be for Bryce, cut off from the rest of his species for the rest of his life? By the time he made it back to Eve'gil, he would be nearly middle-aged. Would you have him spend the rest of his life in isolation?"
"He'd have us," Anul'thek replied weakly.
"Would you be happy all alone, Anul'thek, with nothing but their company?" Ing'ma asked quietly. "Would you give up the life you know and love to live with another species that only a day ago was nothing more than ancient stories to you?"
Anul'thek remained silent.
"Think on it, Anul'thek," Ing'ma said, "and then consider whether you would wish that on them."
Chapter 14
Charles saw Bryce rush in and go to his room, slamming the door behind him. Oh, no, he thought, sighing. He rose and went to the door, knocking softly.
"Bryce?" he asked, "May I come in?"
Bryce said nothing, so Charles quietly stepped inside and closed the door. He sat on the bed next to Bryce, who was laying face-down, sobbing in anger, hurt, and disappointment.
"It hurts, doesn't it?" Charles asked.
"Yeah," came the reply.
"I know, kiddo," Charles said, rubbing Bryce's shoulders.
Bryce took some breaths and tried to compose himself. "He said that life is joyous again, Grandpa," he said at length. "What is that supposed to mean? How is it supposed to make me feel better?"
"I have to admit, I don't fully understand it myself," Grandpa said, "but here's what I make of it: one, see all the joy in life that you can, and two, if life is not joyous, strive to make it so, because it ought to be. Something that Anul'thek and his mentor both stressed when we talked was that life is short—too short to be miserable—and that there is little point to living if we are not taking joy in it. Ing'ma said that he felt very sad about the humans who work only to avoid starvation. He said that was not a life worth living." He sighed.
"And I think when they say that, that some
thing is not worth living, they mean it seriously. Bryce, do you realize that for thousands of years, their people chose death over living in serfdom? I–I cannot imagine any human being making that choice. On one hand, it seems so terribly sad to me," he said, looking at his left hand as if he were actually weighing the options, "So sad that anybody would cling to an ideal enough to end his life in furtherance of it. But on the other hand," he said, now looking at his right hand, "it worked. Thousands of years of their people choosing death over serfdom finally taught the rest of the species that nobody was willing to serve someone not willing to serve himself. And look at them now: they have compassion for each other and for us, utter hatred for harm done to others, a pervasive desire to do their own part, and a willingness to shun those who try to sponge off the system." He held his hands up, trying to make sense of their imaginary contents.
"It's like they took the blind devotion of a religious cult, mixed in some socialist principles, added a hint of hippie do-no-harm and a dash of mob lynching, blended it up while singing kumbaya, and then drank it like Flavor-Aid to wash down their s'mores." He shook his head, trying to make the invisible pieces of the centaur culture fit together, then dropped his hands in exasperation. "And it worked!" he said incredulously. He glanced at Bryce, who said nothing, just listened. He shook his head again.
"Bryce, the centaurs have to do what they have to do," he said. "What if it were you and me? What if they had enslaved us all those years ago and we were the ones who left? What if we were the ones who wanted to see them but were fearful of being enslaved? Would you blindly walk in amongst them and let them know where I was without really checking up on them first?"
Bryce shook his head reluctantly.
"And if when you checked on them and found out that in many ways, they were worse than you expected, would you invite me down to come see them?"
"If there were a few I trusted, I'd invite you down to meet them," Bryce replied.
Grandpa nodded. "I would, too," he said quietly. "But if their ship is as big as it's been described, they're right; you can't land something bigger than a football field and completely unfamiliar to anyone on the planet without creating quite a stir. How would they even get down here? Where could they go that they wouldn't be found?"
Bryce shrugged. He didn't know. He sat up suddenly. "What if..." he began.
"Yes?" Grandpa asked.
Bryce struggled to put his thoughts together. "What if instead of them coming here, we went there to meet them?" he asked.
Grandpa's eyes sparkled with excitement, but he frowned. "What for, Bryce?"
"Well," Bryce said, "they traveled a long way to get here, right? I mean, didn't they say like 30 years or something? That'd be 15 years for us. That's a long time to do anything, Grandpa." He frowned. "I wonder how long they live, anyway."
Grandpa shrugged. "I dunno," he said. "We'll have to ask Anul'thek."
"Anyway," Bryce continued impatiently, his thoughts coalescing, "at least they'd get to see a human in person. And," he added with a bit of a glint in his eye, "We'd get to see them in person."
Grandpa considered it. He didn't see why they couldn't bring it up to the centaurs for consideration. "They might say no," he warned.
"I know," Bryce said desperately. "But it's better than nothing. They said to do everything you can to make life joyous, right?"
Chapter 15
There was a knock at the shed, and Bryce entered. Anul'thek stood facing the door, apparently deep in thought.
"I'm sorry," Bryce said. "Am I interrupting something?" He turned to go.
Anul'thek shook his head. "No, Bryce," he said. "I'm just thinking."
"About what?" Bryce asked, sitting in the camp chair as before.
Anul'thek shook his head. "Something my mentor asked me to ponder," he said, smiling with a hint of sadness.
"Oh," Bryce said. He hesitated. "I–I'm sorry about earlier," he said. "I was just...so excited. Grandpa told me about you guys when I was a little kid, and although I blew him off, part of me always wished it was true. And then it was, and I was so excited that you would all be coming back...and now you're not. It's like getting candy and then having it taken away."
Anul'thek nodded. "I understand, Bryce. I am disappointed, too," he said. "I was very young when my sire passed away, but he planted the seed in me that your grandfather planted in you."
"Your dad is dead?" Bryce asked.
"Yes, he is," Anul'thek said. "But he lived a long, good life. A truly joyous life." He smiled at the remembrance.
"How old was he?" Bryce asked.
"One thousand, twenty-six years old," Anul'thek said proudly. "He was the oldest of our clan."
Bryce's eyes bugged out. "A thousand?! Holy crap! How old were you?"
"Ten," Anul'thek said. "Five of your years."
Bryce got quiet. "Wow, I'm sorry," he said. "How–how was he able to procreate at that age?"
Anul'thek grinned wryly. "Centaurs can breed from the time they're around fifteen until they die," he said.
"That's a lot of potential breeding!" Bryce said, impressed. "It must be nice," he said wistfully.
"Yes, it is nice," Anul'thek said, counting back how long it had been since he'd last been bred. It felt like forever.
There was an awkward moment. The elephant was there in the room, but Bryce was afraid to acknowledge it, and Anul'thek wasn't going to make the first move on a species that he didn't fully understand.
After a moment, Bryce spoke up. "Anul'thek," he said. "The reason I came out here—well, other than apologizing, that is..."
Anul'thek nodded.
"My grandpa and I were talking when I went in there, and I wanted to ask..."
"What?" Anul'thek asked.
"Well, I don't want to be presumptuous, but..." he trailed off. He wanted to ask, but he didn't want to offend.
"What is it, Bryce?" Anul'thek asked. "I promise not to take offense."
Bryce smiled, a little relieved. "Could we meet your people?" Anul'thek frowned, taken aback. Bryce quickly explained, "I mean, I know you guys traveled a really long way, and we couldn't think of a place that they could land without being seen, but we really want to meet them, and...well, we thought that maybe if we somehow went back with you, they'd get to at least claim that they've seen us face-to-face?" His voice ended in a squeak.
Anul'thek frowned, thinking. "Ing'ma?" he asked in his head.
It was silent for a moment, and then a thoughtful voice came back. "I would very much like to meet them," his mentor replied. "And I think he's right: our people would love to meet them. It is a compromise between them traveling back to our world and us going home empty-handed." All the while, Ing'ma's voice was becoming more and more pleased. "You know something, Anul'thek?" he said thoughtfully.
"What, Ing'ma?" Anul'thek asked.
"He reminds me of you," his mentor said.
"Is that a compliment or an insult?" Anul'thek asked wryly. He liked the boy, but he had been on the receiving end of his anger only moments before.
"Just an observation," Ing'ma replied. "Persistent, a little hot-headed, respectful but not afraid to push boundaries, and creative. Yes, he reminds me a lot of you."
Anul'thek chuckled aloud.
"What'd he say?" Bryce asked hopefully.
"Ing'ma likes the idea," Anul'thek said, beaming, "but it's not his decision. He'll put it to our people, and they will decide.
"They've decided," Ing'ma told him. Anul'thek stiffened.
"What is it?" Bryce asked.
"What did they say?" Anul'thek asked, holding his breath.
"Anul'thek? What's going on?" Bryce persisted. "Anul'thek?"
"They're for it," Ing'ma said. "It was a unanimous vote. Nobody was willing to present the argument against it."
Anul'thek beamed, and Bryce knew immediately what had happened. He bolted out of the shed and ran to the house.
"Grandpa! They agreed!" he said breathlessly.
Charl
es spat the alcohol out of his mug all over Bryce, who blinked and scrunched up his face. "I'm getting you a splatter screen for Christmas," he said with his eyes closed. He took his hand and wiped the bitter off his face.
Charles looked embarrassed. "I'm so sorry, Bryce," he said, getting up to get a towel for Bryce to wipe off with. "But they're for it?" he asked elatedly.
"Yeah! Can you believe it?" Bryce was bouncing up and down in his excitement.