by Gemma Voss
“I believe the clip has caused a small bout of insanity,” Pakka says. “Ella-vi, do you require medical assistance?”
It’s becoming clearer with every moment I pass in Ella’s presence that I am the one who will soon be needing medical assistance.
Chapter 4
Ella
I wipe a tear from the corner of my eye, fighting to swallow my laughter. This is no way to act professionally, but then it’s not every day you watch a porn clip in a professional setting, is it?
“I’m alright,” I tell them, though they are hovering around me with wide eyes as though I might spontaneously combust. “Yes, that is technically an authentic record of human sex.”
Kiva has begun recording what I am saying on his little device. “What do you mean, technically?”
“Well, here on Earth, a lot of the people who are recorded having sex on camera like that are paid to do it. Sometimes they are exaggerating a little, to make things more … appealing for the people that watch it. I don’t think you guys want to rely on that as the most accurate idea of two people that are really together. Sometimes they give the men a pill to help them stay erect for longer.”
Having explained this, I wonder how the hell I ended up in this job. A couple weeks ago I was trying to explain to a giant reptile that grocery stores do not “steal” eggs from chickens that still have baby chicks inside them. She was personally offended by the idea that anyone would steal eggs from an innocent creature. Now, I’m explaining porn to a gang of hunky adult virgin men, one of whom I’ve already caught staring at my ass.
That reminds me. I have a bone to pick with Jen about how she never warned me that my new alien wards would be this attractive.
All five of the Kar’Kali scientists are over six feet tall, broad-shouldered, and fit like Olympians. Their skin color comes in varying shades of a cool, silvery gray that shimmers iridescent in certain lighting. Kila, Mori, and Pakka all have thick black hair that shines and hangs pin straight. Vala has a striking head of silvery white that he keeps in a leather corded man-bun. Kiva has teal blue curls that flop around his boyish face, with dark blue freckles to match.
They are shockingly human-like, which shouldn’t surprise me considering their research revolves around the hope that human biology is a comparable match to their evolutionary ancestors. It’s funny how I’ve become more accustomed to reptiles, gelatinous blobs, pig-faces, and Skeletor look-alikes. These handsome figures, mirror images of humanity, seem to unsettle me more than the overtly ‘other’ species. I don’t spend much time thinking about the science that surrounds me at the facility, but their presence makes me wonder what humans will look like thousands of years in the future now that the intergalactic political world has grabbed us up into their web.
And that Kila? The one who said I cause him a ‘physical response’ and then had the gall to say that they can’t get sexually aroused? He needs to tell that little fact to the eyeballs he has attached to my ass. Anyways, this Kila is the worst—or should I say the best? His face reminds me of a sad-boy French model from a perfume ad, all in grayscale. He has this searing black-eyed gaze that burns through me every time he looks my way. And I notice him looking… often.
“So then it is this pill that causes the male to lose all control and act like that?” Pakka asks.
“No,” I say with a sigh. “I’m not a scientist, obviously, and I’m sure there’s hormones and stuff behind it all, but human desires just aren’t that simple. It’s not a switch that you turn on and off. It’s complicated. But when humans see someone they like, and they get to know them, or maybe they don’t get to know them and they just get to be alone together… Well, if there’s mutual attraction between them then they get aroused and it just goes from there. There’s no magic mating call that tells you this person is the one and then from that moment you change and go crazy. People do go a little crazy in relationships, but it takes time to feel that way. We don’t have a Kali’Ka here to tell us who to fall for.”
“Wow,” says Kiva. “That sounds complicated indeed.”
“It sounds nonsensical,” comments Mori.
“Let’s take a break,” Pakka suggests. “We need to begin un-boxing these deliveries and see if we’ve got everything here.”
They all nod slowly, no doubt processing the scattered load of information I’ve given them. Pakka begins ordering them around, and I am left sitting beside Kila, who taps away on his slim computer screen that they call a ‘tap-pad’. He is adjusting what looks like a timetable with dates all along the top of the chart. When he hesitates to think for a moment, he catches me watching him.
“I… I… should apologize for suggesting you are feeble minded,” he says.
“Suggesting? I think you just said it,” I tease him.
He frowns and puts the screen to the side. “Don’t mind me,” he says. “I have been in an odd mood today.”
“A mood? I thought Kar’Kali don’t get moods.” I point at the back of my own head, referencing the chip he has in his own.
“A common misunderstanding of our culture is that we do not have emotions. That is not the case,” he tells me. I wait for a beat, thinking that he must have something more to say about that. But he doesn’t.
“Why did they call me Ella-vi?” I ask him.
“It’s what humans might call polite. Vi in the Archaic language means sister. Since that word is no longer in usage, it simply refers to a respected female.”
“But you don’t want to call me sister?” I probe further. Maybe he thought I wouldn’t notice. Is he quietly insulting me? It’s so hard to read him. He calls me stupid, but then apologizes sincerely. He stares at me like I’m naked, accuses me of shooting sex hormones his way, and then acts like the very thought of mating disturbs him. Now he’s telling me he doesn’t want to use his own culture’s polite honorifics with me?
His eyes trail over me. I feel pinned by his gaze. “No, I do not,” is all he says.
Chapter 5
Kila
Pakka, I’d like to discuss a theory with you,” I say once we are back at the living quarters. It is just the two of us. Mori and Vala have gone to pick up meals from the cafeteria, and Kiva is wandering the complex floors making contact with all of our cohabitors and no doubt questioning them on various topics.
“Yes?” He hardly looks at me. All his attention is focused on crafting a new schedule based on Jen’s refusal to allow weekend access to the laboratory.
“Do you think that humans might have mating calls that they are not fully aware of? Perhaps pheromone secretions that their own scientific methods have not detected?”
“It is certainly plausible,” he says, pausing to look up from his tap-pad and consider it. “Their medical knowledge prior to Alliance intervention was flawed and incomplete. But what evidence has brought this theory to mind?”
“I was not feeling like myself today. I worry that I am having a reaction to environmental changes or some other stressor,” I confess.
Pakka turns to stare at me now. He has a painfully direct gaze and I know nothing will escape his notice in my facial expressions. “Some other stressor?”
There’s no getting around it. I’ll have to lay everything out for him.
“Ella,” I manage to blurt her name. “The human female who is to be our Handler. She has caused a strange response in me.”
“I have noted your temper the past few days has not been even, but I assumed the strenuous travel was the source of your irritability… But, a female? Hmmm, you must tell me exactly what your response was.” He sets his tap-pad down to listen.
“I… I… Pakka, you must promise to keep this between us for now,” I say, nervously.
He nods. “Certainly.”
“When I first looked upon her, I could not stop myself from looking. Her appearance appeals to me greatly, and I found myself paying close attention to her expressions and manner of speaking. When we spoke of Deviant mating today, I found myself wond
ering about whether she partakes in such practices — even imagining it.” I press my sweating palms against the front of my trousers.
It is as I expected. Pakka is horrified, but the first step to solving this problem will be discussing the darker implications of my body’s reactions.
“So, despite our current data and Ella’s own statement today, you believe she may be emitting pheromones?”
“We are biologically similar, are we not? It is possible. The only other explanation would be some sort of malfunction to our suppressor chips. And if this were the case, surely you would feel the effects of the malfunction as well.”
“Not necessarily,” he says. “The Kali’Ka is the force that drives our hormones without the suppressor. It picks and chooses how the hormone fluctuates.”
I tap the table between us and remain silent. This female, who I know nothing about, occupies my mind like an obsession. The intensity frightens me. Like other spikes of anger I’ve experienced over the passings, it is uncomfortable in its abruptness and its power over me. Neither of the potential explanations for the phenomenon are particularly comforting to me.
“Do not worry yourself just yet,” he tells me. “This is what we will do. You will do your best to avoid interaction with Ella. We will need a few days to prepare all our equipment. There are some pieces that will need to be assembled this week. Once they are ready, I should be able to run scans on both yourself and Ella. We will know whether your hormone levels are still suppressed, and we shall ask Ella to be our first test subject for baseline human female hormone levels. She will think nothing of it, I am sure.”
I nod along as I listen. It is a practical plan. This is why I have trusted Pakka with the shameful truth, after all. His clear head and his intelligence are the reason we are here.
“Very well,” I agree. “This is what we will do.”
Chapter 6
Ella
Kila is avoiding me.
It doesn’t take long before its painfully obvious that the sight of me either disgusts or angers him. On Monday, I was confused by his mixed signals, but I didn’t think it was anything more than first day jitters. I don’t expect much when it comes to meeting new alien species for the first time by this point. I have come to find it pretty amusing how low an opinion they often have of human intelligence and culture. I figured that whatever weird reactions he had to me would blow over once he’d spent some time in the office.
But by Thursday, it is clear enough—he hates me. He hasn’t looked at me, spoken to me, or even acknowledged my existence. He’s been pulling this cold shoulder routine since the second he walked through the door on Tuesday morning.
My best guess is that he’s disgusted by me. Ever since our first conversation and surprise group porn-viewing session, the flood gates have opened when it comes to the crew asking me questions about human ‘mating calls’. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell them that we don’t have ‘mating calls’; they just go on calling it that. And now I’m expected to represent every human female on the face of the Earth.
Once Kiva moved past his initial shock, he began asking me every question under the sun.
Questions like: “How do the males court their chosen female once they’ve felt the mating call?” “How many partners does the typical human female take over the course of her lifetime?” “What male attributes does the female seek in an ideal partner?”
I’ve noticed that when I begin to try and answer these impossible, overly broad questions, Kila practically flings himself away from the area and disappears from earshot. I could have sworn he was eyeballing me on Monday because he liked the way I look. Maybe he’s heard just how experienced I am by the way I’ve answered the questions and decided I’m far too Deviant for his taste.
I’m not certain I need to worry about it, but if there’s anything I’ve learned from working as a Handler here, it’s that even the slightest of differences between human and alien cultures can cause a major misunderstanding. Unraveling it all and helping both sides to understand each other is the main point of my job here. Once I know what’s caused this, we’ll know how to avoid the same thing happening with any human subjects that come to provide data.
My first instinct is to speak with Pakka. He’s the leader and he is extremely focused on work, so I feel he is the least likely to take offense to my questioning. I sidle up to him after the lunch break has ended.
“Pakka,” I address him with a smile. “Can I speak with you for a second?”
“I can only assume this will take longer than an Earth second. But you may proceed, yes.” He does not even look up from his work. His face is an inch from the massive panel that will soon control the van-sized box they’ve constructed at the back of their lab. Apparently, they’re planning to put people in it and measure biological responses. The panel hangs to the side, while Pakka carefully connects hair-thin wires from the mechanical hub to corresponding buttons.
“It’s just that I’ve noticed Kila is rather cold towards me, and I’m hoping I haven’t done something wrong to upset him. It’s important that everyone on this team is comfortable with one another.”
“Kila? No, I have not noticed anything wrong. You are imagining it, Ella-vi. After our discussion on Monday, I think we have all come to realize that we will need your knowledge to complete this project. I value your presence here,” he says.
“Ah, well, that is nice to hear, but I don’t think I’m imagining it. Kila can hardly stand to look at me. Is it something I’ve said?”
He shakes his head vigorously, never ripping his eyes from the panel. “No, no, Ella. Everything is fine.”
It’s then that I realize— he knows exactly what I’m talking about and he’s gas-lighting me to hide it. Typical men. These Kar’Kali can pretend all they want that they have no personal connections, but I know bro-code in action when I see it.
“Okay,” I say innocently. “My mistake.”
Now I know I will have to get the information straight from the source. I decide it will be best to corner him, alone, and speak to him as softly and calmly as possible. Sometimes I feel less like a Handler to alien scientists and more like a wrangler of wild animals in this job. It’s best not to spook them. They’ll bite if they feel threatened. And oftentimes, they’re more afraid of you than you are of them.
***
Kila
Everything is much worse than I originally feared. This week has been treacherous, and I was once left for dead in the desert of a mining planet far beyond enemy lines. My body and mind have truly betrayed me.
On Tuesday, Ella arrived wearing a fitted black dress that displayed her curves for all to see. It covered her skin, yes, but her shape was quite noticeable. It is not enough, of course, that she is physically appealing. It is becoming clear to me that she is perfect in all ways. Now that I notice this, I feel fury at remembering how I insinuated that she is as feeble-minded as other humans.
She is a kind female that thinks of other people always, even before herself. That day, she brought with her a box of donuts, which she described as a pleasing morning food that humans purchase for celebratory moments. She wished to celebrate our new lab and the beginning of our research, even though she and the human race will receive no benefits from our findings. Kiva exulted in the flavor of these sweet, colorful breads and showered her with gratitude. The attentions he gives her anger me, and at once I realized I was experiencing jealousy.
Jealousy, a most dangerous emotion, one that Kar’Kali have believed was exterminated from our culture. Here I am, losing my mind to it. Soon I will become no better than a Deviant. I will become like the villains of the stories we heard as children, striking down one of my own people for coveting my desired mate.
As soon as Ella realized that we labored to finish assembling all our equipment as quickly as possible, she began offering to bring sustenance and water to the lab so that we could focus solely on our tasks. She arrived at midday with a tray of sandwiches tha
t she carried from the cafeteria, a pitcher of water, and cups for all of us.
On Wednesday, I was marginally relieved to see her in a large sweater and a pair of trousers. But that day it seemed she had caught on to my avoidance, and she attempted to speak with me multiple times to “get to know me” like she has with the others. We have learned that this is a human need— the need to immediately connect with others and learn their preferences and personal experiences. I was forced to tell her multiple times that I was busy, although I felt the ludicrous desire to tell her, in detail, about every moment from my first lesson to my last battle. It wounded me to see her hurt expression when she realized I was cutting her off.
It is now Thursday. Ella is wearing a top that seems to float around her like gauzy leaves on a kavana’a tree. I have never noticed what females put on their bodies before. …Before. Yes, my whole existence is now divided by Before and After. Before Ella, I was one person. Now, I am entirely another. I have been replaced by a male that cannot stop from noticing the way her legs curve, highlighted by the hugging of her leather boots that reach to her knee. I take a long look, because I know that I must spend the rest of the day averting my eyes.
We are close to completing the monitor pod, I remind myself. I must focus so that tomorrow we will be able to finally discover the reason for my suffering. I cannot help but wonder if the universe is issuing punishment for the cowardice of my past.
“Kila,” she says, turning to me before I can find something to occupy my hands. “Would you like to try this coffee? It’s something most humans drink every day. It has caffeine, which helps people wake up and get energy. Do you have anything like caffeine on Kar’Kal?”
I stare at the white cup in her hand to avoid her eyes. It is filled with brown liquid. The color is very like her hair, rich and dark.