by Jack Doe
On the observation deck," Ing'ma replied with a chuckle. "Did you enjoy yourself?"
"I–oh, I–yes. Um, yes, I did." Bryce's speech was slow to come, but the expression of bliss that he still wore told Ing'ma that he'd enjoyed himself immensely.
"Did I live up to the expectation?" Ing'ma needled him.
"Definitely," Bryce said. His arm flopped against his chest, and he noticed that he had semen on himself. "Oh...I should do something about that," he said, looking around helplessly for a towel.
"If you're willing..." Ing'ma began.
"Probably," Bryce said.
"I'd be happy to clean you up," Ing'ma said.
Bryce frowned. He wasn't very into semen himself—not human semen anyway—but after what Ing'ma had just done, he was more than happy to let the guy indulge himself. "Go for it," he said, grinning.
Ing'ma carefully laid him down on the deck and sat beside him, bending over to sample the taste of human semen. He licked his lips thoughtfully and nodded to himself. He made short work of cleaning Bryce's body.
"Was it...good?" Bryce asked skeptically.
"Not as delicious as centaur semen," Ing'ma admitted. "Not bad, though."
Bryce nodded. "Ing'ma, I–well, thank you," he said. "That was...beyond my wildest dreams."
"Hopefully now you'll have wilder dreams," Ing'ma replied, smiling.
Bryce nodded enthusiastically, but his face clouded. "Ing'ma," he began, and paused. "I have a confession to make," he said.
"Oh?" Ing'ma asked.
"I–I've said some pretty disrespectful things about you," Bryce admitted. "What I said doesn't matter; it wasn't respectful, and I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. I was speaking without knowing the facts, and, well, I'm sorry."
Ing'ma smiled. "It was no harm done to me," he said. "As your grandfather said, learn from it."
Bryce frowned. "Grandpa said that to you?"
Ing'ma paused. "No, not to me," he said. "To one of the centaurs when I was within earshot."
Bryce nodded. "Grandpa is a smart guy," he said.
"Yes, he is," Ing'ma replied. "Be joyful that you have him." Bryce nodded again, and the two embraced before stepping back out onto the ship.
Chapter 24
The evening passed much as the one the night before: there was much singing, revelry, and sharing of drink. Centaurs and humans told funny stories, and several games of drunken tag ensued, which inevitably wound up as a mass orgy. Yet throughout all the fun, Bryce could not find Anul'thek. He wanted to tell him he understood wanting to be with more than one person, but he was nowhere to be found. As long as the party continued, Bryce did his best to keep to the mantra of life being joyous and applied it to enjoying himself as much as he could on his last night. As the party wound down, though, he began to worry. It seemed odd that in such a confined space, one of the centaurs could just go missing. He searched the field, but Anul'thek was nowhere to be found. He wasn't in the pond, and he wasn't on the observation deck. Finally, Bryce's eyelids betrayed him, and he fell asleep to dreams of sex, good food and drink, and good company.
When morning came, the atmosphere had changed perceptibly. Even the centaurs' buoyant spirits could not mask the pall that had come over them. Today was the last day they had together, and in truth, they had only a few more hours before the humans had to go back to their world. It had been determined that the centaurs would begin the long voyage home as soon as the humans departed. It was a sad time, but everybody reminded each other that life was joyous, and it got them through.
Bryce at last found Anul'thek sitting by himself quietly.
"Anul'thek!" he said, relieved. "Where have you been? I've been looking all over for you! Are you all right?"
Anul'thek looked up and nodded. "I'm sorry, Bryce," he said. "I needed some time to think alone."
"Oh..." Bryce replied, sitting down next to the centaur. "What's going on?"
Anul'thek shook his head. "I just needed to do some thinking," he said again. He smiled. "Today's your last day," he said. "Are you ready to go?"
Bryce snorted. "How could I ever be ready to leave this place?" he asked. "I mean, it's a paradise here. I've learned so much in the day and change I've been here. I wish I could stay longer."
Anul'thek's face brightened for an instant, but then it dimmed again.
"What is it?" Bryce asked.
Anul'thek shook his head. "I guess I'd hoped that you'd be able to stay forever," he said, "but we've already discussed that."
Bryce nodded. "Yeah," he said dejectedly. "But hey," he added, forcing a smile. "Life is joyous, right? Why waste our time contemplating the future when we could be enjoying ourselves?"
Anul'thek smiled. "You're right, Bryce," he said. "You have learned a lot, and you're right, too: let's go grab some food."
Bryce grinned, and the two held hands and walked among the many trees, eating and drinking their fill.
Before long, it was time to start saying goodbyes, and Bryce and Charles found their clothes and made their rounds.
Bryce made his way among the centaurs, saying his goodbyes and thanked Ala'ni for opening his eyes. "Anytime, kiddo," she said, and he shook his head. Was he "kiddo" to everyone? He wished he could take some of the fruit with him. The meatfruit in particular was something he was going to miss. He settled for a bite of one before he left.
Charles hugged all of the foals, who cried at his leaving, but he reminded them that life was joyous and got them started playing tag while he ducked off to say goodbye to the next centaur.
"I have very much enjoyed you," Charles said to Ala'ni. He took her hand and kissed it gently.
"I have very much enjoyed you, too," she replied, a wistful smile on her lips.
"Oh, fuck all," Charles said and embraced her, kissing her passionately, both their eyes wet. They held the embrace. They knew it would be their last.
"Life is joyous," he said half-heartedly. "At least we'll have the memories."
"Life is joyous," she repeated, smiling tearfully. "Think of the alternative."
He sighed and smiled sadly. "You're right," he said, "as usual."
Ing'ma and Anul'thek collected the humans and took them to the lower observation deck, a place they had never been before. They stood outside the door, and Ing'ma addressed the centaurs.
"Life is joyous," he began, and there were solemn–but sad–nods from the audience. "We have been very fortunate–far more fortunate than those who came before us, and more fortunate than our kin back home–to get to spend our time with Charles and Bryce." There were shouts of approval from the audience. "But the time has come for them to go," Ing'ma continued. "We will keep them in our hearts, and we will tell stories to our grandchildren of the days that will come when our lucky progeny will one day fulfill what we strove to do." The audience murmured agreement as Ing'ma turned to Charles. "Do you two have anything you wish to say?"
Charles nodded. "I'll be brief," he said. "In less than two days, you have taught me much about your culture and have given me more than I ever wanted in my lifetime. Bryce and I will continue to pass on the legends of your people, colored by our own wonderful experience here, and I dream of the day when we will all be reunited again." He made a hat-tipping motion to Ala'ni. "It was a pleasure," he said solemnly. As he gave the floor to Bryce, he swallowed hard.
Bryce stood in front of the centaurs, but he felt no fear of public speaking. These were his friends he saw in front of him now, and as they had done before, they looked up at him with kindness.
"Friends," he said, "I, too, will be brief. I–I have learned so much from you, maybe less so about your culture, but you have imparted wisdom to me that I will always treasure. I take with me the lessons you have taught me about finding joy in life, about not overthinking things, about letting myself go to enjoy the moment." He paused. "I have learned how harmful jealousy can be, and I am sorry that I allowed it to affect me here in this wonderful place. You live in a paradise," he said earnest
ly. "Life is joyous. If a foolish human like me can remember it, so can you."
He stepped back and Ing'ma led the group in a song of remembrance, a song that stressed the joy of life, the joy of the memories that were shared, and the hope of reunification. When the song was over, it was with a heavy heart that Ing'ma led the humans onto the observation deck.
The observation deck looked just like the one above, except that there were two pea-pod transports sitting open on the floor. They were translucent and strangely wrinkled-looking, probably a result of the need for them to stretch and contract to fit their occupants.
"Just two?" Bryce asked Anul'thek, who had prepared the pods. He nodded sadly.
"But I thought you were coming back with us!" Bryce cried, running to hug the centaur.
"I can't," Anul'thek said over Bryce's sobs. "My people are leaving as soon as you reach Earth."
"But what about the pods?" Charles asked.
"They will disintegrate when they land," Anul'thek replied. "There will be no trace of my people ever having been here."
"Except for us," Charles said somberly.
"Except for you," Anul'thek replied.
"You can't come with us?" Bryce asked desperately. "I–" He gave up and hugged Anul'thek tightly, crying into his shoulder. Anul'thek held him and cried, too. For once, he could see how Bryce felt: 'life is joyous' just didn't ring true right now.
The door opened, and one of the ship's crew entered. "I'm sorry," he said softly, "but the time is now." Charles nodded, and the crewman left.
Anul'thek helped Charles and Bryce into their pods. Lying there looking up at him, Bryce said, "Anul'thek?"
"Yes, Bryce?"
"I'm going to kick myself if I don't say it," Bryce said. He hesitated. "Anul'thek, "I–"
The pods closed, sank through the floor, and shot off toward Earth. The centaurs waved fruitlessly at them through the canopy in the courtyard. The humans were gone.
"What did he say?" Anul'thek asked Ing'ma.
"I don't know," Ing'ma replied.
The pods rocketed towards the Earth like meteors but landed as gently as feathers on the ground in the field where they had previously departed. Just as Anul'thek had said, the pods disintegrated on landing, and Bryce and Charles found themselves lying on the ground. They sat for some time, getting their orientation back, and then stood and hugged each other, crying softly. Beneath the light of the first quarter-moon, they made their way home.
Chapter 25
"...and the archaeological evidence suggests that between 2600 and 2400 BC, ancient inhabitants of these lands erected the sarsen stones using techniques common to woodworking: mortise and tenon joints hold the lintels on top of the standing stones, and tongue-and-groove joints interlocked the lintels, as you can see on these two here," Bryce said to a wide-eyed group of schoolchildren. It felt robotic, dispassionate, and considerably too clinical, hardly suited to his elementary-aged audience.
It had been two days since he and his grandfather had returned to Earth, and they both immediately felt assaulted by the problems of the world, both major and minor. More fighting in the Middle East. Pushy customers. Scratchy clothes. The strange absence of singing voices at all hours of the day and night. Waking up to that awful alarm.
Life is joyous, Bryce reminded himself. Why spend a moment being dispassionate? After all, although he couldn't tell these people that the "ancient inhabitants" walked on four hooves and had a lust for life like no human had ever dreamed of, and although he couldn't tell them that the whole monument was just a big art project, he _could_ celebrate the wonderful achievement. He grinned inwardly to himself.
"But why were they made?" one of the children asked.
Damn, Bryce thought. You would ask that right now, wouldn't you? "There is a lot of speculation on it," he answered. He caught himself and dumbed it down. "We don't know for sure," he said, "but some people think that people a long time ago used it to bury their dead. Some people believe it was a place to worship."
"Like God?"
Bryce shrugged. "Possibly," he said, "or perhaps their ancestors."
"What's a lintel?" another child asked.
Bryce pointed to the horizontal stones at the top of the monument. "Those are the lintels ," he said, "the rocks going side-to-side. And these stones that go up and down are called standing stones. See? They stand up. Can you all say 'standing stones?'" The children repeated it. "Very good!" Bryce said, feigning enthusiasm. He just wasn't feeling it today. Finally the tour was over. He glanced at his watch. It was almost closing time. Finally.
Bryce sighed as he came inside.
"What's the matter, Bryce?" Sheila asked, patting a chair next to her.
Bryce forced a smile. "Just not feeling myself lately," he said.
Sheila nodded sympathetically. "Too much fun this weekend?"
Bryce snorted. That was the understatement of a lifetime. "I guess so," he replied.
"Well, get home, get some good sleep, and come back feeling refreshed tomorrow!" Sheila offered. "They say you never really catch up, but it sure doesn't hurt to try!"
"Thanks, Sheila," Bryce said, genuinely grinning. Life was joyous, and he had someone at work who cared about him.
"About that time," Sheila said, glancing at her watch. "Walk me out?"
"Of course," Bryce replied. They locked the door and walked slowly out toward the car park.
"So, did you find the big, bright light?" Sheila asked.
Bryce turned to her, startled, but caught himself. "Yeah," he said evasively.
"And?" Sheila asked, raising her eyebrows with interest and giving him a pinch on the shoulder.
Bryce hesitated, and then sighed. "You'd never believe me if I told you," he said finally.
"Try me," Sheila challenged.
"Promise not to tell anyone?" he asked.
She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Well, I–I suppose not," she said. He gave her a significant look. She pursed her lips. "Cross my heart," she said, making the motions.
"All right," Bryce said. "Remember, I told you you wouldn't believe me."
Sheila gave him her own significant look.
"Centaurs," Bryce said, holding his breath to see her reaction.
Sheila blinked, and then frowned. "Centaurs?" she asked doubtfully.
"Yes, centaurs," Bryce replied, his expression completely serious.
"Really, now, Bryce," she chided. "It's not nice to get an old lady's hopes up and then dash them like that!"
"I told you you wouldn't believe me!" Bryce retorted lightly defensively.
"What's there to believe?" Sheila came back. "Centaurs, last I checked my mythology books—not history books—did not have giant head lamps coming out of their eyes, and they walked on the ground, so they must have made noise." She shook her head. "You've got to give me something more to go on, Bryce."
Bryce stared. Was she actually willing to believe him if he came out with the details?
"I'm sorry, Sheila," he said, taking a breath before it all spilled out. "The 'friend' I was going to visit was one of the centaurs, who landed here because his people used to live here thousands of years ago, but they left because mankind tried to enslave them, and since they were peaceful, they didn't want to fight mankind, but they didn't want to be enslaved, either, and so they left, and they went to some other planet that they wouldn't tell me where it was, and they waited there for thousands of years, telling their grandkids about mankind and how much they wanted to come back, but they couldn't come back because their calculations said that mankind wasn't ready yet, until sometime around now, and he was here so that he could scout out to see if the calculations were right, but they weren't, and so now the centaurs on the ship hiding on the backside of the moon are really sad and disappointed because they thought they were going to get to see mankind, but mankind is still so screwed up that they're afraid that we'd try to enslave them again, and so Grandpa and I went up on their ship and spent two days there, and it wa
s wonderful, and there were all these really amazing fruits, like the meatfruit—which is a fruit but it tastes like a steak and bounces like a ball when you throw it—and they're really awesome and love sex and feasting and being joyous because life is joyous, and I'm really bummed now because the centaur that came down was a really great guy named Anul'thek, and I really liked him, and I really miss him, and I didn't get to tell him I–" He stopped, his chest hurting suddenly.
Sheila had an expression on her face like the entire history of the world had just been recited to her in ten seconds. And there was a test on it. She shook her head and exhaled through puffed cheeks. "Ah, would you run that by me again?" she asked.