Never Again

by Heather Starsong

  The Elirians, still touching my heart, felt my sorrow. Ah! they sang to me.

  How can I help? I asked them.

  We must learn about human bodies, they sang together. The emissaries before us have taken on human form and learned to function in it, but have not really understood it. We hope that if we can learn how your form shapes your being, perhaps we can help to bring humans back to their essence. Earth has not always been out of balance. It was once one of our wisest and most beautiful planets. Long ago.

  Their song settled into silence. A tremor of fear ran through me. You would like to study me?

  Yes, Merilea answered. If you are willing. We cannot without your permission. If you are not willing, we will take you back and watch over you until your people find you.

  I wanted to help them. They had saved my life, and never had I felt so tenderly cared for as I had since they found me. I realized I loved them. I was enchanted with the incongruity of their round, fluffy forms and the ancient wisdom in their deep eyes. I felt I could listen to the sweetness of their voices forever. And they had come to assist my beloved Earth.

  I am willing, I told them. But I was afraid, clinging to my life so newly given back. How will you study me? Will you need to cut me open? I sent them an image of a hip replacement surgery from a YouTube video.

  No! No! Their fur flattened, their eyes went wide with shock.

  No, Kiria sang alone, rose-tinted fur fluttering. We touch you with our fingers. We can read all of you that way.

  Merilea’s eyes were dark gray with traces of purple, like deep water flowing in the shadow of a cliff. You were willing to let us cut you open?

  Well, I would be dead by now if you hadn’t found me.

  The others murmured, Ah, the light is strong in her.

  Do I need to take my clothes off? In spite of myself I was anxious about that.

  No, Kiria answered, we can touch you through your clothes.

  But I’m not a very good specimen, I apologized. I’m old and a lot of me isn’t working properly anymore.

  We will mend what does not work well, Lillilia sang.

  How will you know what to mend if you don’t know human bodies?

  Kiria stroked my cheek with one delicate finger. Her eyes were gray, green, blue, shot with light, like sun shining deep into the ocean. We see your essence.

  I caught my breath. What would it be like to embody my essence? You want to study me now?

  When you are ready.

  Knowing I was plunging into unfathomed depths, I looked into their wondrous eyes. I am ready.

  They shifted around me. I could see now that each of them had five arms, and their hands had seven fingers, five in the middle and a thumb on each side. Twenty-five wise, many-fingered hands came to rest on my body, light and warm, touching me from head to foot. Their song began, their voices interweaving. I drifted away.

  It seemed forever that I dreamed, floating on their song, feeling their delicate touch like liquid light penetrating every part of my body. When at last their song faded into silence, I opened my eyes. Rose-orange sunset poured in the big windows. I breathed deep of the rainbow air and stretched. Nothing hurt. My entire body glowed with well-being and peace. Never in all my life had I felt like that. Even at times when I was young and in the best of health, there had always been some nagging discomfort somewhere. Now there was nothing but joyous ease and vitality in every cell.

  The five Elirians sat around me, their hands resting serenely in their fur. They had no faces, no mouth to turn up, no nose to wrinkle, no brow to furrow or smooth; their eyes expressed it all. They smiled at me.

  Thank you, Rosiri sang within me. You are the first human we have touched, and we have learned much from you. Even though you dreamed, you told us about the parts of you as we touched them. Are all humans so complex?

  I sat up—so easily!—drawing the silver blanket around me, and they shifted to let me become part of their circle.

  We all have individual differences, of course, I answered, but our organs are the same, except for those that differ between male and female.

  Male and female? The council spoke of that, but we don’t understand it. Tell us of male and female, Merilea asked.

  I am female. I was accustomed now to simply thinking my conversation with them. After that one embarrassing croak, I had no desire to try to speak again. And just thinking was so easy. They understood me without my having to struggle to find the right words. Often an image said it more fully than any words could convey. I sent them an image of a naked man, explaining that the part on the front of him that I did not have fit into the open space between my legs to make children. They were puzzled, so I went on to elaborate on the reproductive system, menstruation, intercourse, birthing, nursing, raising children. I could not help that the images I sent were burdened with my love and grief, joy and pain.

  Ah! they murmured.

  I shifted my position a little, leaning on my hand. As I did, I glanced down at it and had a moment of confusion. There was something strange…

  But Lillilia was asking, You have pain to bring out your child, and to bleed every moon? Caught up in the question, I forgot about my hand.

  Yes, I answered. I’ve often wondered who thought that up. You didn’t put that part back, did you? The bleeding, when you fixed things inside me?

  They looked around at each other. No, we didn’t find that in you, Tirini answered.

  I was relieved. That’s good. It stops when we get older.

  Male and female. It is very strange, Kiria marveled. There is conflict between you? We felt your pain.

  Often. Attraction, for how else would we reproduce? But also, yes, conflict. Dominion of male over female. I have been lucky in my part of the world, but in many places the females are like slaves to the males.

  That is the duality the emissaries spoke of, Rosiri mused.

  How do you reproduce? I asked. Don’t you have male and female?

  No, they sang together. We are of Eliria. When an ulada calls us, we rise out of her. When our ulada is complete we sink back into her. We are Eliria, born of her, returning to her. We need no male nor female.

  Even though I now knew they were neither male nor female, I thought of them as female, with their sensitive touch and their soft, fluffy bodies.

  I had difficulty at first knowing who was speaking, as they had no lips to move and their song sounded within me rather than coming from any direction, but gradually I learned to distinguish their voices. Lillilia’s was high and sweet like a flute, Kiria’s rich and full like a cello. Tirini’s voice had the bright clarity of bells, Rosiri’s the haunting quality of an oboe. Merilea’s was the lowest voice, like a bass fiddle grounding their harmony when they sang together. But no comparison to earthly instruments or any earthly sound could begin to capture the wondrous, soaring beauty of their song from the stars.

  They inquired about each part of me, each system, each organ. As I told them about human bodies, I learned more about theirs. They had no need of ears because they communicated telepathically and received sounds through their fur. Since they levitated, they had no need for legs. No need for lungs or digestive system because they drew in all their nourishment from light through their eyes, and from the atmosphere of their planet through their fur. The air I breathed in their spaceship had come all the way from Eliria, constantly renewed by being passed through a reservoir of Elirian essence in the instrument room. I noticed that I had felt no hunger or thirst since I began breathing that air.

  They had only three organs: their fur; their heart, which seemed to hold the functions of both brain and heart; and their eyes. Arms, eyes, fur, all were directly connected to their heart.

  They were very concerned that my brain and heart were separate.

  Are all humans that way? Rosiri asked. Her eyes were deep blue, sparkling like a w
ind-rippled lake.

  Yes, I answered

  The brain and the heart separate, Kiria mused. That is another duality.

  What if the heart guides you one way and the brain guides you differently? Tirini asked.

  It often happens.

  They rippled their fur in distress. No wonder there is so much trouble on planet Earth, Kiria exclaimed, if one being cannot even agree with itself.

  My sorrow for my kind arose again. It can be worse than that, I told them. Some of us shut down the guidance of our heart and listen only to our brain.

  But the brain does not know love, Merilea sang in her rich, low voice. We searched it. We found love only in your heart. The brain is like the instrument panel on our ship. But yours is shadowed with something that upsets your heart. We did not know how to heal that.

  If only you could!

  What is it? Rosiri asked.

  I don’t know. I’ve been trying for many years to learn what it is, how to clear it. Many of us have. We have had great teachers in the past who have guided us. Maybe some of them were the emissaries you spoke of. But it is hard. We understand, but still we fall back. It is twisted thought patterns, fear mostly, I think, that shadows us. Other humans may tell you differently, but whatever it is, it causes us to hurt ourselves and each other and create the discordance that you feel across all the galaxies.

  I could not tell them more, as sorrow overwhelmed me. They gathered close around me, enfolding me in their fur, and sang to me, Ah.

  Kiria placed her hand on my heart, and the song quieted as she searched me. I think, she sang, it is love in the heart that can heal the fear in the brain. You have much love in your heart, a strong light. You can heal.

  Night had gathered outside the big windows.

  Come now, Merilea sang. It is night. You are tired. You must rest now so your body can receive our healing.

  Each one held me against her heart. Then Lillilia wrapped me in the silver blanket and laid me down like a small child. It was true, I was very tired. Curled up on the soft floor, lulled by their song I drifted into sleep.

  When I woke, the sky outside the windows was blue, touched with the pink of sunrise. I nestled in the silver blanket. It was a wondrous thing, warm yet light, shining with the soft radiance of Elirian fur. After a while, the sun came around to shine through the nearest window into my face, and I got up, stood, and stretched. How exquisite the feel of my body. Light, limber, no pain. What a miracle!

  Gathering the blanket around myself, I went to a window and looked down. Far below, enfolded in blue haze, I saw the curve of Earth. The Elirians came to me, embracing me with their many arms.

  Good morning, I greeted them.

  Their song of good morning was like sunrise.

  Today we must return you to Earth, Kiria sang. Your people are searching for you.

  I clung to Kiria, feeling torn. The glimpse of Earth had called me, but I could not bear to leave the magical dream of this spaceship with its rainbow air and these five wondrous beings with deep eyes.

  I hate to leave you, I told them. Will you come to Earth? Will you become emissaries? Such love as you are would be most welcome there.

  No. There was sadness in their answering song. That is not our ulada. We could not survive for long on Earth. We are here to discover the essence of human beings and carry what we discover back to the council. Stronger ones will come. Do not fear. The balance will shift.

  We will gather up many of your people to study and learn from them, Merilea explained. If they are willing. We will take those about to die and renew their lives in thanks for what they teach us, as we have done for you. We saw your light as you came up the mountain and felt the trouble in your heart, though we did not know the lightning would take you.

  But you must be careful, I interrupted in sudden fear for them. Don’t let anyone see you. They may shoot you down, or capture you to study you. Our methods are not so gentle as yours.

  No fear, Tirini assured me. The Akarans protected us. We can shield our ship in an instant so that it cannot be seen by human eyes. We have sensors that can move us more swiftly than any Earth missile. We are safe.

  When our work is finished, Lillilia sang, we will return to the council and then to Eliria. Home!

  They all sang then, their voices weaving in a song so sweet and haunting that I knew it to be the song of Eliria. It swelled around me until I felt my heart would break with its beauty. When it ended, we rested together in silence.

  It is so far away, I thought after a while. Won’t it take you thousands of years to get home?

  Rosiri’s eyes took on a faraway look. No, she sang. On a thread of the web, we fold time. It will take no time.

  One more thing. Lillilia floated into the instrument room and returned with something in her seven-fingered hand. She gave it to me. I stared in shock at the two pieces of metal that had held my hip together. It was not of your essence, she explained.

  I put my hand on my left hip, searching through my skirt for the deep indentation of the surgical scar. It wasn’t there.

  You have new bones. Lillilia’s eyes smiled. They were soft blue-gray with wisps of pink like the sky at dawn. I slid the two pieces into the left pocket of my skirt, close against the new bones.

  Tirini turned to the instrument room. We will go down now. Her gold-tinted fur rippled as she touched the instrument panel, lightly, in quick sequence with her many hands.

  I folded the silver blanket, laid it on the floor, and put on my gray cloak.

  Kiria guided me to a window to watch our descent, dropping through the deep blue sky, the mountains rising to meet us. Far below, nestled between the peaks, I saw my valley with the stream running through, a shining ribbon in the morning sun. Then we were down, hovering a few feet above a lichen-covered rock at the head of the valley, upstream from my special place.

  A door slid open in the silver wall. Tirini came and held me close against her heart. I must stay with the ship. All blessing to you, Clara. May you complete your ulada in joy and come to rest in the bosom of your Earth.

  The other four floated down with me. My bare feet touched smooth rock with a thrill of recognition. I turned to look back at the ship, a silver disc hovering above us.

  The vibrant ease of my body seemed to belong with that magical ship and its circling rainbow light. But now I stood, bewildered, an old woman with my feet on a rock of planet Earth.

  I sent them my thought. It will be strange to go back to my old life in this new body. What must I do?

  They gazed at me a long time in silence. A wordless song wove between them. Then the words came. Your light is strong. You have given it to many over the years. Your ulada is almost complete. Let your light shine.

  Their song shifted, filled with tenderness. Our love is with you. You can call on us anytime and we will answer. We are with you always, even across the galaxies. Love knows no distance.

  One at a time they embraced me, holding me close against their hearts. Still singing, they floated back into their ship. The silver door slid closed and the ship rose up. For a moment the sun glinted off it, dazzling my eyes, and then it was gone.

  Chapter 3

  I sank down onto the wide, smooth rock, bone of the valley, rounded by long-ago glaciers. I have been in the presence of perfect love, I thought. How can my imperfect self bear such love? How can I go again among humans where love is twisted, tainted? How can I not? I lay with my face on the smooth rock. The sun shone down on me.

  My gray cloak was too warm. I rolled over, took it off, and sat on it, my knees pulled up to my chest. It was still early morning and the valley was quiet except for the bubble of water pouring out of many springs around me, forming a stream. I breathed in the smells of earth and water and the cold, fresh scent of wind off the snowfields above me. Nearby, a marmot chirped, another answered.

&nb
sp; Back in my own world, I could barely comprehend, or even believe in, the experiences of the last two nights and the day between in which all my pain had been taken away. Yet I could feel the weight of the two metal pieces in my pocket challenging my unbelief. I rested my hand over my heart. It beat quietly and steadily.

  I stood. So easy to stand! No need to push off the rock with my hands. No ache in the knees. Joy flooded me. I squatted. Then jumped straight up from the squat into the air, landed lightly, painlessly, on the smooth rock. Health and strength sang through every cell of my body. I tilted my head back and shouted, “Thank you!” into the sky. I jumped again, whirled, spun down onto the rock and up, effortlessly. “Thank you,” I breathed, knowing they could hear.

  A wisp of melody wound through my heart. Humming it softly, I picked up my cloak and started walking down the valley, earth under my bare feet, morning sun in my face. I walked slowly, ecstatic to be alive, following the growing stream, wading through marshes and wide, shallow pools reflecting the blue sky and peaks above, the hem of my skirt wet. All around me the high, spare clarity of the tundra.

  A bend in the stream, and I had returned to my special place. People had been there. The grass was trampled; there were muddy boot prints on the rocks at the water’s edge. I felt a rush of territorial anger. How dare anyone come to my private place? Then I remembered Kiria singing, Your people are searching for you.

  Of course. And how glad I would have been to have them come for me on that terrible night when I lay dying, before the Elirians found me. Someone had gathered my boots and pack, tucked my poncho around them, and laid my staff beside them. Whoever did that must have expected me to return. I squatted down beside my pack and looked inside. Wet knee braces and socks. I spread them on the grass. My water bottle. The water was cold and refreshing, the first thing that had passed my lips since the Elirians found me.