Agent to the Stars

by John Scalzi

  “What?” Van Doren said.

  “You’re the man,” I said, “who gets to read Michelle Beck’s mind.”

  “How do I do that?” Van Doren said.

  “I’m going to stick tendrils into your skull,” Gwedif said.

  “Is it going to hurt?”

  “Not if you’re nice to me from now on,” Gwedif said, sweetly.

  “Tom, you never told me that I was going to get probed,” Van Doren said.

  “It’s not really a probe,” I said. “Come on, Jim. You wanted to get the story straight, anyway.”

  “Is this seriously necessary?” Van Doren said.

  “Yes, it is,” I said. “Honestly. What you experience now could change the course of the world.”

  “It sounds so hackneyed when you put it that way,” Van Doren said.

  “It’s hackneyed, but it’s true,” I said.

  Van Doren turned to Gwedif. “Promise me my brain isn’t going to end up in a jar,” he said.

  “It will stay safe and snug in your chubby little skull,” Gwedif said. “I promise. You’ll be fine.”

  “God, what have I gotten myself into?” Van Doren said. “All right. Fine. Whatever.”

  “The ientcio has a question for Jim Van Doren,” Gwedif said.

  “Okay,” Van Doren said. “What?”

  “Tom feels it would be appropriate for Joshua to inhabit Michelle Beck’s body. Miranda does not. The ientcio wishes to know what you think about Joshua inhabiting this human body.”

  “Well, it would take her off my list of people to date,” Van Doren said. “Other than that, I don’t know.”

  “The senior officers will now debate the issue and render a decision,” Gwedif said. “You may notice the room getting smellier for a few minutes.”

  It did. By the time they were finished, my eyes were watering. Miranda had to sit down. Van Doren was standing his ground, but just barely.

  “The senior officers have decided to allow me to probe Michelle and transmit the memories to Jim Van Doren,” Gwedif said.

  “Good,” I said. “Another minute of discussion and my sinus cavities would have imploded.”

  “It was not a unanimous vote,” Gwedif said. “There was a lot of shouting.”

  “What do I do now?” Van Doren wanted to know.

  Gwedif had him sit next to the stretcher and explained Van Doren’s options—Gwedif could go through his nose, which was the most efficient way, but the most uncomfortable, or through the ears, which was less efficient but least uncomfortable. Van Doren chose the ears.

  “What am I going to be looking at?” Van Doren asked me, as Gwedif was preparing Michelle.

  “You’re going to be looking at the last moments of her life,” I said. “The ones just before she goes into the coma.”

  “What am I looking for?”

  “Don’t look for anything,” I said. “That’s the whole point of you doing this: you don’t know what to look for. Just let us know what you’re experiencing.”

  “Will I be able to tell you as it happens?”

  “How should I know?” I said. “I’ve never done this before, either.”

  “Man, your alien dog was right,” Van Doren said. “This is the weirdest night of my life.”

  Gwedif slopped onto his ears before he could say another word.

  “What are you seeing?” I asked Van Doren.

  “I’m seeing your ugly face, Tom,” Van Doren said.

  “Try closing your eyes,” I suggested.

  Van Doren did. “This is so very odd,” he said, finally. “I’m seeing some woman pouring goop over my face. I’m feeling the goop. What is this stuff?”

  “Try sensing it for yourself,” Gwedif suggested. “Just like you would your own memory.”

  Silence for a moment.

  “It’s latex,” Van Doren said. “I’m getting a latex mask done for this stupid movie I’m doing. The woman who’s putting the mask on me is a real bitch. A minute ago she tried to make Miranda leave. Miranda stood up to her, and she’s talking to her now about something else.”

  Silence for another moment.

  “Now the woman is sticking straws up my nose,” Van Doren said. “It hurts, the way she’s doing it, but I don’t say anything because I just want to get this over with. I’m more depressed than I’ve ever been in my life. Hmmm. That’s odd.”

  “What’s odd?” I say.

  “The way Michelle is experiencing that,” Van Doren said. “She is depressed. Really, really depressed. But she’s trying to make herself more depressed than she is.”

  “Why?” I ask.

  “I don’t know …” Van Doren trailed off for a minute. Then he said, “I think it’s because she feels stupid. The audition earlier in the day went incredibly badly because she had prepared the wrong scene and because she fainted because of her treatment, whatever that means. She knows these things are her fault, and they were stupid little things. I think she’d rather be depressed than feel stupid. Yes, that’s exactly what it is.”

  Silence again.

  “My face is completely covered now. Miranda is telling me she has to go. I don’t want her to go, because I don’t want to be left alone. But I can hear the pain in her voice. I think she ate a bad burrito. I feel sorry for her; my lunch was fine. I let her go.

  “Now I’m just sitting here, thinking, trying to make myself more depressed. But it’s not working. I’m replaying the earlier audition in my head and I’m looking stupider each time I replay the memory. And now, to top it all off, I’m sitting in Pomona with straws sticking out of my nose, for a part that I got because someone wanted to fuck me a couple years back. I’m disgusted with myself. I yank out the straws, and fling them away. I’ll just sit here and die with goo on my face.”

  There it was.

  I looked at Joshua, who was sitting there, a sad doggie look on his face. He was right. He wasn’t happy about it, but he was right. I bit the inside of my cheek until it bled. I was in a jumble of emotions. Sad for Michelle, who chose a stupid, stupid way to end her life. Angry at myself for believing that Michelle couldn’t, wouldn’t try to kill herself, and for taking her body so far away from where it should be. Fearful, because now I didn’t know what I was going to do about Michelle. Or myself. Where could I take her to die? To finally die?

  Miranda was sobbing quietly next to me. I reached over to her and held her. All she had to deal with was simple grief. I almost envied her. Which made me feel worse.

  “Oh, this is stupid,” Van Doren said.

  “What?” I said.

  “This is stupid,” Van Doren repeated. “Now I can’t breathe. I try exhaling really hard to blow the latex out of my nose but the goo keeps dripping down. I need those stupid straws. Now I’m going to have to get up and crawl around to find those damned things. Without messing up my mask, if possible, so I don’t have to do this ever again. I try to get up out of my chair while keeping my face in the same position. I get up and start walking around, feeling for things. I bump into the side of something. I trip. Now I’m trying to keep my balance. It’s not working. I crash into something backwards. I can hear and feel stuff falling behind me. Now nothing’s making sense—there’s a flash of brightness and a ringing in my ears. I fall down. I realize I’m bleeding from the back of my head. Something must have dropped on my head. I’m dizzy. I can’t get up. I feel sleepy. I guess I really am going to die. This really sucks.”

  CHAPTER Nineteen

  The response was immediate. Seconds after Van Doren’s recounting of Michelle’s last memory, the room erupted in a smell that can truly only be described as utterly fucking rank.

  Somewhere in the smell-processing centers of my brain, my olfactory nerves handed in their resignations; Miranda moaned, turned away, and threw up. Van Doren, still connected to Gwedif, appeared unaffected. Later I found out Gwedif had suppressed his olfactory sense. Lucky bastard.

  “Uh oh,” Joshua said. “Now we’ve done it.”

&nb
sp; I leaned over Miranda and tried to help her. “Jesus, Joshua,” I said, perhaps redundantly. “What’s happening?”

  “Remember what Gwedif said about the vote not being unanimous?” Joshua asked.

  “Yeah,” I said. “So?”

  “Well, actually, it was. The senior officers were all against having Gwedif probe Michelle. All of them.”

  “What? So why did we go ahead?” I said.

  Gwedif piped in. “The ientcio overruled them, Tom. On the grounds that it was important to see how accurate Joshua’s interpretation of the event was, not because of your arguments. He said he was confident that Joshua’s version was the correct one, and that it would only be polite to fulfill your request, as you are our friend and partner.”

  “He did this as a favor?” I was suddenly and uncontrollably outraged. “Hey, fuck him. And fuck you for going along with it, Gwedif. I’m not interested in favors for the sake of appearances. I’m trying to offer your fucking people what you said you want.”

  “Tom, please,” Gwedif said. He voice sounded strained; I wondered how much of it was actual strain he was allowing me to hear, and how much was playacting, since the voice was an artificial way for him to communicate. “You don’t know what’s been going on around here.”

  “Enlighten me,” I said.

  “The senior officers aren’t the only ones who are opposed to the idea of allowing Joshua to take control of your friend’s body. Nearly everyone on the ship is. The taboo against inhabiting a thinking being against its will is extremely strong for Yherajk. It’s entrenched in our culture in ways you can’t appreciate.”

  “It’s worth about five or six of the Ten Commandments,” Joshua said.

  “That’s a flip way of putting it, but yes,” Gwedif agreed. “And now you come and want us to throw aside all that entrenched thought, Tom. Frankly, there’s a large group of Yherajk on this ship who think your request may be proof that humans aren’t ethically developed enough for us to be involved with at all. They want to call this all off.”

  “But it’s not as if Michelle is alive,” I said. “She’s brain dead. Dead.”

  “We don’t have brains, Tom,” Gwedif said. “‘Brain dead’ is not a concept that has a direct translation. It doesn’t come across to us. For Yherajk, there is body death, which doesn’t necessarily mean the death of the personality. And there’s soul death, which doesn’t necessarily mean the death of the body. But if a Yherajk inhabits the body of another Yherajk, its because he’s caused the soul death of the other. Murder, Tom. This looks and feels like murder to us.”

  “But she’s gone,” I said, almost plaintively.

  “It’s a distinction without difference,” Gwedif said, quietly. “At least, for most of us. That’s why the ientcio had to say that he was being polite.”

  “Huh?” I said.

  “Christ, Tom, you can be dense sometimes,” Joshua said, irritably. “The only way that the ientcio could get the rest of the senior officers to go along was by saying that we ought to honor your request for the sake of politeness. The senior officers went along with it because they had expected my version of the events to play out. Now that it didn’t, they’ve got a whole new thing to think about. And you’ve got your foot in the proverbial door.”

  I took a minute to let what Joshua said sink in. “Wow,” I said, finally. “They must not be very happy with you at the moment, Joshua.”

  “They’re not,” Joshua said. “Screw ’em. They were being provincial about it.”

  “But you were against it, too,” I reminded him.

  “Sure,” Joshua said. “I’m still not entirely thrilled about the idea, to tell you the truth. But now I know that Michelle didn’t really want to die. That helps. And also, you’re right. This would probably be the best way for the Yherajk to meet humanity.”

  “I’m glad you’ve come around,” I said.

  “Don’t get cocky,” Joshua said. His tongue rolled out of his doggy mouth.

  “What happens now?” I asked Gwedif.

  “Now we argue,” Gwedif said. “We have to see if the senior officers can wrap their minds around the concept of human death. Once we’ve done that, we might get them to see the wisdom of having Joshua inhabit this body. It could take some time.”

  “Hope you brought a good book with you,” Joshua said.

  Miranda, who had been slumped at my side, moved. “Do we need to be here for this?” she said. “If they yell anymore, I may have to barf up a lung.”

  “I’m sorry,” Gwedif said. “You’re right. No, you don’t have to be here. This is something the officers will have to hash out for themselves. I can take you back to your car, if you like.”

  “I have to pee,” Van Doren said, coming out of his daze. Gwedif disconnected; Van Doren’s nose immediately scrunched up in disgust.

  “I thought I told you to go before we left,” Joshua said. “Now you’re just going to have to hold it.”

  “Really?” Van Doren said.

  “No, not really,” Joshua said. “Hmmmm. We don’t really have bathrooms, though. Let’s go see if we can find you a secluded corner or something.”

  Joshua and Van Doren went off to find a bathroom substitute; Gwedif, Miranda and I headed back to the ambulance. Miranda opened the back and crawled onto the stretcher there. Gwedif took his leave of us, promising news as soon as it happened.

  I got into the back of the ambulance with Miranda and started rummaging around. “I thought I saw water around here somewhere,” I said. “Though it might have been plasma. I’m not sure.”

  “If you find it, give me some,” Miranda said. “I’ve got the great taste of vomit in my mouth and I want it out.”

  “Water or plasma?” I asked.

  “At this point I really don’t care,” she said. She rolled on her back and covered her eyes with her arm. “God. What a bizarre day.”

  “So what do you think of the Yherajk?” I said. “Everything you ever wanted in an alien civilization and more?”

  “They’re fascinating,” Miranda said, languidly. “An entire people, amazingly technologically and ethically advanced, all in desperate need of Dr. Scholl’s foot deodorizers. Where’s that water?”

  “Here,” I said, handing her the bottle I found. “This is clear, at the very least.”

  “Good enough,” she said. She propped herself up on her elbow and took a slug. Then she offered the bottle to me. “Want some?”

  “What, after you put your vomit-coated mouth on it? I don’t think so,” I said. “Besides, I don’t know where you’ve been.”

  “Yes you do.”

  “Well, over the last twenty-four hours or so, yes,” I said. “But before that, it’s all one big, scary, dangerous blank. Twenty-seven years worth of blank. Yikes.”

  “You’re silly,” Miranda said. “All my time is spent at work. When I’m not at work, I’m at home. No mystery there.” She patted the stretcher. “Come take a nap with me.”

  “I think I should stay awake,” I said. “Gwedif might come back.”

  “Tom, it smelled so bad in there that I threw up,” Miranda said. “I think it will be a while.”

  “There’s not enough room on that stretcher for both of us,” I said.

  “Don’t be a baby,” Miranda said. “I don’t bite.”

  “I’m bitterly disappointed to hear that.”

  “Get me sometime when I’m not so tired,” Miranda said.

  I maneuvered onto the stretcher.

  “See,” Miranda said. “That wasn’t so bad.”

  “I’ve got a metal rail in my back,” I said.

  “It builds character,” Miranda said.

  “Just what I need now,” I said. “Character. Oh, great. I’ve got the extra arm.”

  “What?” Miranda said.

  “When two people are in the same bed together, there’s always an arm that gets in the way. It’s this one.”

  “We’re not in bed,” Miranda said. “We’re in a stretcher.�
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  “Same concept,” I said. “Even more so, in fact.”

  “Well, move it.”

  “Where?”

  “Here.”

  “Here? That doesn’t help.”

  “Here, then.”

  “If I keep it here, my entire arm will fall asleep. Ouch. No.”

  “You are a baby,” Miranda. “How about here?”

  “Wow,” I said. “That is comfortable. How did you do that?”

  “Hush,” Miranda said. “I should have some secrets.”

  We were asleep in seconds.

  We woke when Van Doren pulled open the doors of the ambulance. “Rise and shine, sleepyheads,” he said, rather too cheerily.

  Miranda grabbed at the water bottle and chucked it half-heartedly at Van Doren. “Die screaming,” she said.

  “Remind me not to be around you in the morning,” Van Doren said.

  “I don’t think you’ll need to worry about that one,” Miranda said.

  “Sorry to wake you guys up, but the senior officers have come to a decision and they want you guys to come,” Van Doren said.

  “A decision?” I said. “How long have we been asleep?”

  “About six hours,” Van Doren said.

  “Six hours? Jesus, Jim,” I struggled to get up without putting an elbow into Miranda. “Michelle’s portable respirator only had a quarter charge in it.”

  “Relax,” Van Doren said. “They recharged the battery.”

  “How did they do that?” I asked.

  “These people use their technology to travel trillions of miles, and you ask how they can recharge a battery,” Van Doren said. “Sometimes you’re just not too bright.”

  “What have you been doing all this time?” Miranda asked Van Doren.

  Van Doren puffed himself up, mock pridefully. “While you two were wasting time sleeping, I wandered around this place. Not bad. Although I have to say if we ever plan any joint human-Yherajk spaceship, they’re going to have to come up with taller passageways. The top of my head is bruised. Enough chatter. I was sent to get you. They’ll be annoyed with me if I show up by myself.”