Jane Doesn't Save the World

by Erin Grey

  “Still short, though,” said Sandy. “No magic growing beans in that mush, obviously.”

  “Who is that?” asked Mitch.

  “It’s Jane,” answered Gwendolyn.

  “No,” said Mitch. “Not right. Not her.”

  Who was this person? The same girl who had been trying to die just a few days ago? In a place very far away from here?

  I pulled on a tangle of hair, hoping I could make a connection through touch if not through sight.

  Once my hair was combed and no longer dripping wet, Idesta clipped it out of my face with little metal clamps. Soft flat pumps slipped easily onto my feet and then frightened the kidneys out of me by shrinking to fit. I yelped and jumped as though I’d been stung, but Idesta just laughed.

  She led me back down the stairs and through a door to a lounge area filled with divans, wall tapestries, opulent carpets, and low tables—low tables sporting platters of appealing eats, Sandy noted joyously.

  Idesta threw herself onto a couch and helped herself to something orange and gooey. I followed her example, reaching for the same item. It was salty and creamy, a bit like runny cheese, and I almost forgot how completely odd the situation was.

  “Yum,” said Mitch.

  I gorged myself to bursting—each item surprised and delighted taste buds I thought had died of boredom—and Idesta and I relaxed into the companionable silence of the well-fed. Zhian arrived then, pausing to blink at my new appearance. He approached me, a small black device dangling from his hand.

  “You look … well,” he said gruffly, then held out the black device. “I found a temporary translator for you. Not the latest model, but it will do for now. You’ll be able to understand Idesta at least.” He sat down next to me and leaned close, touching my neck.

  I recoiled. “What are you doing?”

  “It goes above your ear.”

  “Oh.” I sat motionless as he adjusted my hair in order to install the gadget.

  “Will she be able to understand me?” I held myself still so as not to accidentally touch him any more than he was already touching me.

  “Not yet. We’ll get a proper internal translator and transmitter installed in town,” he answered.

  “Installed?” spluttered Sandy. “Like a damn robot?”

  “Internal?” I stammered, unnerved by Zhian’s intimate prodding. “You mean, like, in my brain?”

  “Not exactly. More like next to your brain, but partially embedded in your skull.”

  “Embedded in her skull?” screeched Sandy with increased volume.

  “Um, I’m not sure I want anything embedded right now, seeing as I’m not planning to hang around too long,” I said.

  “We don’t know how long you’ll be here exactly,” said Zhian. “Or if there is even a known way to get you back on Earth. You’ll be safer if you can understand and communicate.”

  “What?” I latched onto the second-last thing he’d said. “You said your people have been traveling in space for centuries. Surely someone figured out how to land on a planet other than Eorthe?”

  “No doubt they did, but nobody can land on Earth without risking exposure of our world. Earth humans can’t keep the peace among themselves. They’d likely be even worse with us. So we’re forbidden from making Eorthe known to them.”

  “Ok, but surely there is some way of transporting a person without landing, like they do on Star Trek and all those other shows. I mean, that must be how I got on your ship, right?”

  “I have no idea,” he said, spreading his arms across the low back of the couch. “That’s why I need to do some investigation. We might be a space-faring people, but that doesn’t mean space travel is common. It’s too expensive for all except a privileged minority and government-sponsored programs. Our ancestors were the ones keen on exploration. They went as far as they could and found nothing but lifeless planets and stars, except for Earth of course. There was some interaction back then, but the natives soon proved to be less than accepting. The final outcome was that any further contact was prohibited. Fortunately, Earth records at that time were far from reliable, so the initial exchange was quickly forgotten or passed into mythology in your world.”

  Sandy sighed. “Well, THAT’S encouraging.”

  “It does not prompt one to hope,” agreed Jasper.

  Feeling utterly deflated, I sunk back into the couch, wondering if I would ever see Earth again. And what those left behind would think when they found a suicide note but no body.

  “Will Zhian take care of us if there’s no way for us to return?” Gwendolyn fretted.

  “Don’t you want to try your translator?” asked Zhian.

  I sat up and looked at Idesta. “Tell her to speak to me.”

  Zhian spoke to Idesta in Caruthian, but I found that I could understand his words. It didn’t happen the way I expected, with each word translated into an equivalent English word in my head, but rather, I got the feeling of each phrase, like a mental picture of what he had said. The pictures were a little stilted, like when a television set receives an interrupted transmission, but I could get the meaning fairly quickly.

  I beamed at Zhian. “I understood you!”

  He grinned at me, and I turned to Idesta.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Jane,” she said, also smiling pleasantly.

  “Her eyes don’t crinkle up when she smiles,” said Sandy. “That’s dodgy.”

  “But she IS smiling,” said Gwendolyn.

  “It is conceivable that the variation in genetics on this planet may affect the movements traditionally associated with a genuine smile,” said Jasper.

  I smiled back at Idesta, hoping Sandy’s distrust didn’t show up on my face.

  “And you,” I said. “Thank you for all your help. I can’t tell you how amazing it felt to have real shampoo and—”

  “She can’t understand you yet,” Zhian interrupted me. “Your translator is a basic one that doesn’t transmit. It only translates incoming speech.”

  Embarrassed, I touched my ear. “Sorry,” I stuttered. “I … got excited and forgot.”

  Zhian smiled.

  “See?” said Sandy. “His eyes crinkled. That’s a real smile.”

  Zhian reached over and covered my hand with his. “You apologize too much,” he said. “And usually when you don’t need to.”

  “What a sweet thing to say!” Gwendolyn sighed.

  “I don’t know,” said Sandy. “All this niceness is starting to grate. I need alcohol.”

  “Tired,” said Mitch, and I yawned. My eyes squeezed shut with the action, and I struggled to open them again. They watered when I did.

  “Perhaps you ought to excuse yourself,” suggested Jasper.

  “I’m rather tired,” I told Zhian. “I think I’ll go to bed, if you don’t mind.”

  “You don’t want to watch a little Community first?” he asked. “That’s your favourite, isn’t it? I brought some recordings from the ship.”

  “Maybe another time,” I said. “I don’t think I can keep my eyes open another minute.”

  “Okay.” Zhian stood and walked me to the door. “May you have a peaceful sleep.”

  His words felt strange until I realized that he was speaking Caruthian and I was getting the gist through the translator instead of directly from him. It wasn’t perfect, he’d said, and I knew enough about the variations in idioms and patterns of thinking between languages to understand that the meaning of his words might not always make complete sense to me. I’d had plenty of experience with that in the multilingual world of South Africa.

  What a different life that had been. On a different planet.

  “We must be on the alert,” said Jasper, as I walked up the stairs and to my room. “We are vulnerable to any who wish us harm.”

  I sat down on the bed and tested the bounce. There was none.

  “Zhian took care of Jane on the ship,” Gwendolyn argued. “I’m sure he’ll protect us.”

  “He cannot watch her al
l the time,” said Jasper ominously. “We are on a planet where Earth humans are considered criminal. There are too many variables for safety to be ensured.”

  “And who knows what Zhian’s agenda really is,” said Sandy. “I don’t trust a guy who doesn’t keep alcohol on his ship.”

  I lay down and wriggled on the hard bed, searching for a position that would ease the tension in my body.

  “I’m worried,” said Mitch. “Very, very worried. Don’t like this. Want to go home.”

  The palpitations in my chest reverberated through my entire body, a booming cannon in a hollow cavern. My feet stayed cold, no matter how much I rubbed them.

  “Did we watch Community on the ship?” asked Sandy. “I don’t remember seeing it. But I was pretty drugged up for a lot of the trip.”

  My mind spun with visions of moons and stars and planets until I drifted off into a broken sleep.

  4 Just as he ought to have been, having experienced pre-, mid-, and post-menstrual Jane.

  11

  The bit where the sun comes out

  In the morning, Gwendolyn was thrilled to find that the blotches on my face had cleared dramatically, leaving only faint shadows behind.

  “Ugh, this underwear is a bitch!” griped Sandy. “If it’s not creeping into places where the sun doesn’t shine, it’s sagging and letting in draughts.”

  “Perhaps Jane can request a fitting for some personal items?” proposed Jasper. “Idesta must be able to help.”

  “At least the rest of the outfit hides the fact that you haven’t shaved for weeks,” said Sandy. “And no thigh chafing with these tights!”

  The only thing I was missing was deodorant. It hadn’t been amongst the hygienic goodies Idesta had given me. My attempt to request it, however, led to an embarrassing exchange.

  “You want what?” she asked, face like a scrunchie.

  Not having any Caruthian words to get my point across, I gestured to my underarms and wrinkled up my nose. Then I mimed using a roll-on, spraying, and even wiping my armpit.

  “Armpits? You want to put something on your armpits. Why would you want to—something smells bad. Your armpits smell bad? Why?”

  Feeling like a disgusting freak, I gave up. One of the creams Idesta had given me had a strong but pleasant fragrance, so I improvised.

  At breakfast, which consisted of a weird assortment of vaguely fish-shaped creatures and salted flatbreads that tasted of oats, Zhian announced his intention of going into town and taking me along.

  I choked on a mouthful of fizzy juice. “Is that a good idea?” I coughed out. “Wouldn’t it be safer for me to stay here so no one sees me?”

  “It would be,” he said. “The problem is: we need to get you a better translator and I can’t install that type myself.” He looked me over, lips pursed. “We’ll need something to cover your hair.”

  “That dark brown may as well be a sign saying, ‘Hi, I’m an alien!’,” agreed Idesta.

  She located a hat and scarf and arranged it so that my hair and face were all but completely hidden.

  “You must keep your eyes shaded, or they will give you away,” Zhian said. “They have no light in them.”

  “Feel icky,” said Mitch morosely.

  “For once, I don’t blame you,” growled Sandy. “No one likes being told their eyes are dull.”

  “I can see what he means,” said Gwendolyn, always quick to rush to the defence of anyone she’d deemed kind at heart. “Everyone we’ve met here has that metallic sheen to their skin and eyes, no matter the colour.”

  My dark grey irises were lustreless in comparison.

  Idesta shrugged. “They’ll just think she’s ill, like I did.”

  Zhian assessed my appearance with a frown. “Try not to get too close to anyone,” he said. “And keep your head down.”

  Idesta pleaded irreconcilable intentions, so Zhian and I set off without her. We used the ‘car’ again, and I took advantage of his relaxed mood to probe.

  “So … Idesta. Does she work for you or…?”

  “We have a deal. She takes care of the house when I’m not around, and I let her stay there whenever she wants for as long as she wants.”

  “I don’t trust her,” said Sandy.

  “Why ever not?” exclaimed Gwendolyn. “She gave us clothes and beauty products and made the bed and everything!”

  Jasper added, “She has been nothing but solicitous. You cannot impugn her motives without evidence of dishonourable intent.”

  “So, shoot me,” said Sandy. “I don’t like her face.”

  “Where are we exactly?” I asked Zhian.

  “Latros, a region of Skant. I’ll have to show you a map later. This area is only sparsely inhabited. That’s why we must travel to the town of Ginniker to find the items we need.”

  “The word you’re using for where we’re going—I’m getting a mental picture of a small grouping of houses and businesses. Do you have cities like we have on Earth?”

  “Cities, yes, but not as you have. We do not build ‘skyscrapers’, although most cities have a form of viewing tower. Overpopulation is prohibited, you see. There is a limit to how many can safely use the resources within an area, and international law requires us to adhere to that limit.”

  “But, from what you’ve told me, it seems like your civilization is so much older than Earth’s. How is the planet not overpopulated already?”

  Zhian opened his mouth, then hesitated.

  “He’s considering how much to tell you,” said Sandy. “I don’t trust him either.”

  “I like Zhian!” said Gwendolyn vehemently. “He’s caring and friendly and … and caring.”

  “Caring,” echoed Mitch. “Need caring.”

  “The cycle of birth and life is much slower here,” said Zhian. “Lives are longer, deaths rare, births even rarer.”

  “Lives are longer? How much longer?”

  “It depends on many factors. But a few have been known to reach as much as 700 years.”

  I slumped back in my seat, flabbergasted. “Why? How is it possible?”

  He smirked. “You’re like a little child! Why? How? Where?”

  “You’re avoiding my questions.”

  “I’ve done nothing but answer your questions! I don’t have all the answers, though.” He nodded to the road ahead of us. “We’re about to enter the town.”

  It was exactly how I pictured an English country village, except that the houses were as brightly-coloured as the nappy of a baby who has eaten a box of crayons. Perhaps the structures were simpler than the Tudor, Georgian, and Victorian buildings of my memory, but the dainty front gardens and lilac trees dispersed across the sidewalk were strongly reminiscent of quiet rural life.

  We left the car in a lot on the edge of the town and walked the rest of the way on streets of neatly-trimmed, narrow-stemmed plant matter akin to grass. There were no cars on the springy, violet-coloured lawn, but plenty of people. I supposed there was a no-car rule in pedestrian areas.

  Everywhere I looked, I saw brightly coloured hair and gleaming metallic skin: bronze and silver and rose-gold and gunmetal and crimson and midnight blue and violet and sage-green. And those eyes that glittered like molten gold reflecting a rainbow. My sallow skin would stick out like a toad on a shelf of porcelain dolls. I dipped my head lower, withdrawing into the shade of the hat brim. At least my clothes blended in, all the women being similarly draped, and many of the men too.

  Zhian suffered no timidity over his appearance, though he wore straight cut pants and a simple tunic that lacked the opulence of the locals’ garments. In fact, he strode through the town as if he owned it.

  I did my best to reign in my eyes and jaw and quietly followed Zhian as he took a path between two houses and guided us away from the centre of town. I was so completely occupied with the buildings and plant life we passed that I barely prevented myself from bumping into him when he stopped outside a bright green and yellow cottage and opened the gate.
/>   Instead of knocking at the front door, he made a sharp, level ‘ah’ sound.

  “I wonder if doorbells are ever used on this planet,” Jasper mused. “Is knocking practiced? Or are those customs limited to Earth?”

  Zhian was answered with a quickly descending ‘ah’, and the door opened.

  I don’t know what I had expected. Maybe an older, bearded man in some kind of robe with charms and amulets dangling from the ceiling behind him.

  What we got was a tall gangly teenager, judging by the blemishes on his skin and the grubby loose-fitting clothes.

  He frowned at Zhian. “I don’t have the modifier ready yet,” he said.

  Zhian put up his hands. “No rush,” he said, “I’m just here for a translator and transmitter for my guest. This is Jane. Jane, this is Amaliricus.”

  “Call me Ric,” said Amaliricus, bowing his head to me briefly. I bowed back, in case it was rude not to.

  “We ought to request some lessons in basic etiquette so as not to attract any unwelcome attention,” recommended Jasper.

  Ric gestured to us to enter and immediately turned to walk ahead; no ‘after you’, I noted. The interior was simple and functional, not at all opulent like Zhian’s place. Ric’s workshop fitted in more closely with my stereotypical image of a nerd’s tinkering area. Tools, none of which I recognized, littered the surfaces, both vertical and horizontal. Trays of components were stacked in clear storage units that reached from floor to ceiling. I couldn’t be certain of the materials, but the various items seemed to be made from metals, rubbers, and plastics. In short, it was exactly where I would expect to find a translator and a transmitter of dubious technological capability.

  Ric pulled out a stool and, hands on my shoulders, pushed me onto it. Seeing him up close, I realised I’d misjudged his age as much younger than he was. His eyebrows lifted abruptly when he removed my scarf and hat to see the pale, distinctly un-metallic skin of my face and neck. He glanced at Zhian who shook his head and motioned for him to continue.