by Mason Adgett
I laughed and shrugged. Even with modern translation AI talking across interstellar cultures and languages was incredibly difficult. I thought of India Phoenix and wondered what kinds of conversations she had engaged in with her alien fiancé. I doubted India spoke guvian; did Vavaka know any anglish? Or would they be using a translator-bot on their honeymoon? “Alojago,” I replied. “Tell me about that.”
He interrupted me for a moment to haggle with a young gobo child over the price of a long curly candy stick with a glob of goo at the end. The customer was likely an adult modding as a child judging by the way she tried to over-emphasize her cuteness, and Boodle wasn’t fooled and gave her no discount.
“Now, you’re Hullen,” he said when he finished the transaction. “Being Hullen, you don’t seem that weird when you watch over my shoulder like that because the Hullen, they don’t care about proper behavior. Still, some types might really rough you up over it since Hullen aren’t generally liked when they are noticed. Hullen go back a long ways digging where they shouldn’t. But I guess most of us – I’m a Terwik you see – most of us are more scared of Hullen than anything else. They can go wild, you see? They break through walls on you that you didn’t even know were there.”
“I really didn’t know which one to choose.”
“Ha!” he said. “Well I’m a Terwik through and through, I wouldn’t mod any other way. We all tend to think our own is best, right?” He sold a flimsy sheet of gel to a teenager, a shy sort that seemed a little lost. I sketched a quick profile of the same teen and pressured him into paying me too much for it. I suspect in reality it was a much younger kid underneath and I felt a mild guilt for powning the poor child, but it was a game, after all, and if you didn’t want to get beat you shouldn’t play it. I thought about what he had said, though, that we all thought our own was best, and I challenged him on it after we finished our transactions.
“I’m a human,” I said, and he nodded – that was territory we’d already covered – “but I don’t think humans are the best form of life out there. Do gobos think that?”
“Best of the gobonoids,” he said, with a wry tone that I took to mean he was joking. He touched me on the shoulder in a friendly way. “We’re all different. My family and Terwiks in general I think don’t see much difference between the earthens and the Terwiks. But not all our kind feel that way. On Barnaby they like earthens so good they try to make Earth again out on the moon, but on Barnaby they have sky, you see? Like earthens have the sky. We gobos don’t have any sky, but I have seen it in your movies, the stars you dream on. You are a funny Earthen modded Hullen. Hullens are suspicious of earthens, I think. Hullens don’t know what to do with a sky, either. But who aren’t the Hullen suspicious of? They know every kind going to take from the Hullen. You don’t act much like a Hullen, so I knew you weren’t gobo right away.”
“You’re perceptive,” I said.
“It’s true,” he agreed modestly. “Probably most wouldn’t notice a thing.”
I nodded, thinking again of India, her distracted eyes always looking inward at herself, wondering if she had sensed anything odd about Vavaka that first meeting. What sort of human had he modded? What background? What nationality? What had she seen when she looked at whatever inane details he had no doubt randomly chosen? Or had he chosen them with more care? Was Vavaka, inter-galactic corporate giant, as naïve as India Phoenix, Earth-renowned celebrity socialite and heiress?
I was very curious to meet him.
I almost asked Boodle about Vavaka – he had surely heard of him one would think – but I stopped myself at the last second, not sure what impulse caused my restraint. Boodle was friendlier than I could have hoped for (he encouraged me to friend his cell when I arrived on Asitot) but I had just come looking for cultural background, and he had certainly given me that.
What I had learned is that I knew next to nothing about guvian culture. But that was to be expected. Worlds were rich and deep. I thanked Boodle, exited the game after reaching level 3, and promised myself that I would tread lightly on Asitot. I had no reason to stir up any trouble on another planet. There was no reason to begin with any particular suspicions. Both Vavaka and India were important public figures and while I had a nice opportunity in this job to explore a new world, I had to do so quietly, in a way that stirred up no trouble for either of them. I would operate quietly and under the radar. As under the radar as possible, at least, with a 3V crew broadcasting every move.
I was able to sleep, finally, but my dreams were so full of my anticipations of Asitot that I might as well have kept playing Galactic Empires. I couldn’t remember many details in the morning – I never could – but I remember that India Phoenix was featured heavily and I don’t think she was human. But she wasn’t gobo either, which was weird. I’m not sure what she was.
I thought about it as I flew to pick up Charles the next morning. In the dream, and in my mind later, it was more than just an idle detail. As far as I could recall, she had looked no different in the dream than in real life. I wasn’t sure what made me think she had been anything other than her normal self, there had just been something different, something a little off. The dream had taken place in Jebala, I think, as I had a vague memory of the caves, the soft rainbows of ambient lighting. Maybe I had thought her a gobo or something similar, a passing fancy, but I didn’t think that was it. I mentioned the dream to Charles as he was directing his luggage into the bay.
“So you’re hot for India Phoenix, what of it? Most of the planet is.”
“I didn’t say I was hot for her,” I protested.
“Well I don’t know what other meaning you’re looking for. You met India Phoenix – who is fine as a fox by the way – and you dreamed about getting down all night. Nothing to be ashamed of.”
“That’s not what happened,” I said. But my protest sounded feeble even to myself.
“It’s just a dream,” he said. “Quit complaining. I barely got any sleep at all. I was up all night researching.”
“Interstellar or WWW?”
“A bit of both. Worldwide doesn’t have enough details about the other planets if you ask me. It’s mostly fake v-scenes and fan-feeds that might as well be promos.”
“You have to stick with the pedias,” I said.
“Too vague.”
“So what did you find on the ISR?”
“You name it,” he said. “I got heavily embroiled in the politics. Listen – they are not like us.”
I didn’t remind him aliens never were. I had figured Charles would dive into the political side, it was why I myself hadn’t bothered. We hopped aboard a shuttle to the Space Machine and on the way I asked him to fill me in on the details. He sighed heavily and shook his head.
“Too much, too much,” he said. “But let me start with some history.”
So he did, a narrative that continued sporadically throughout the morning. No one was sure where gobos had originated on the planet. There were three ancient civilizations that most of their modern ideas could be traced to. Jebala was a part of the North, which had before the appearance of civilization been a kingdom slowly growing over a thousand years. It had been built essentially on a hereditary monarchy, but, like with Earth, civilization had changed all that and replaced it with an Arbiter. Monarchies were viewed by Civilization as a transitional cultural adaptation to be replaced upon reaching cultural maturity. This change was often met with some resistance, but it never lasted long with the weight of Interplanetary Civilization behind the new order. Charles tried to explain how the North had managed the replacement of such an old system but it was complex and none of us followed. A caste system of some sort had been in place, no doubt well understood by the Northerners, but whatever unwritten rules had guided it were incomprehensible to an outsider. Charles admitted he hadn’t truly been able to make sense of it himself.
We joined India at the Space Machine gate, along with her small entourage that she quietly encouraged to wait in a distant
sitting area. I told Lewis’s 3V crew to join them and we were blessed with the opportunity for some privacy – though it didn’t save us from Mike, Lewis’s assistant, who saw himself as one of us.
He argued with Charles here and there through his historical discourse – it was Mike’s way – but India was all ears, as though the information was new to her. It was, I suspected, as she hadn’t before seemed even to know the difference between Barnaby and Asitot. Which, as Charles explained, was a significant one. Philosophically they were diametrically opposed, with Barnaby embracing a connection to the outside universe while Asitot still seemed to resent the intrusion.
We had to wait for about an hour and a half while the Space Machine cycled through the star series. It was enough time for the four of us to get comfortable with each other. Charles had an easy time with India, but of course he was no stranger to celebrity. Mike had his usual awkward way about him, and I sat mostly silent, listening, thinking about the day ahead.
Finally we were ushered in to where we could see the Space Machine and all conversation ceased. I had been there before – we all had – but even so, when you first came around the corner and caught sight of it through the giant window it took your breath away. It was impossible to tell its size. At the moment it turned slowly, the bright lights seeming to arc in a kaleidoscopic display. Once we were inside it would turn so fast it would seem to become a single disc of light.
“Amazing,” said Mike.
“It is,” I said. “You have mustard on the side of your mouth.” I couldn’t help grinning in anticipation as I stepped up to the desk.
“All food and drink must be disposed of before entering the gate,” the robot said as she handed us our pills. “All earthens are required to take the minimum dosage for your own safety.”
I swallowed the little green capsule. The others did the same. The effects hit me immediately and I giggled.
“Fun,” I said. “Fun flight.”
India’s smile looked the way mine felt. “Yeah,” she said. “So fun.”
And it was. Things didn’t get ugly until we arrived on the other side and hopped on our shuttle to Asitot.
····3····
But don’t let me get ahead of myself. You may have never taken a journey on the Space Machine or even flown a shuttle to its gates (and why would you if you weren’t going to ride the Machine itself?), in which case you might be unfamiliar with the procedure. We took the pills as required, then wandered down the long hallway to the pods. The hallway was about half the width of a football field and hundreds of people – human and otherwise – walked the same direction we did until we were finally filtered numerically into smaller sections. Each traveler had a pre-assigned pod, loosely configured for the comfort of each particular species. For humanoids it was a soft bed with soft walls and even a soft ceiling. The effect of the pill was such that it was easy to imagine one was floating in a giant marshmallow.
We said “Good flight” to each other and settled in, and within a few minutes I was sleeping. At least it felt like sleep, but I feel like a fragment of a memory of the transition remains. Did I dream it? Or do I remember it somehow from an unconscious experience? Who can say? But my dreamlike memory of the moment when we disappeared in one portion of the universe and instantly reappeared in another is one of profound loss and profound gain at the same time. I remember thinking about how much one could experience in the quiet dark with only the soft sensation of the pillows surrounding, how much of life could be squeezed into such a small space and a tiny moment. So I must have been at least a little awake.
A gentle tone sounded after the transition, waking me from my trance-like state, and my little door slid silently open. I stepped out and joined the others in the hall. We followed the crowd out the gate then separated, as Vavaka’s shuttle was held separately in a private garage. As we walked there I overheard Charles ask India how she enjoyed the transition.
“Oh, it’s not my first time,” she said. “But it was fun.” She had traveled many times even as a child and just recently shot a movie on location in the Artemis system. Maybe she was more familiar with the outside universe than I had given her credit for.
By now the effects of the drug had worn off, even though very little time had actually passed. The transition itself was instantaneous, but it caused the body to experience time differently. Despite what might have been only five or ten minutes of actual sleep we all felt very refreshed. At least I did, and from the spring in their step it looked like the others did too.
We were at Pyramus. It didn’t feel different yet, but we still hadn’t left the station. We exited with the same crowd we had entered, mostly humans, a good proportion of gobos, and a scattered selection of other humanoids. Our group split off and made our way to the back. We were met by a gobo who spoke excellent anglish. He was about my height – which is short for a human, even shorter for a gobo – but stockier with a wide face and a welcoming smile that seemed almost human.
“You are with Vavaka?” he said to India. “I recognize you from the tube.”
“The tube,” India laughed. “How funny!”
He looked embarrassed, his smile sagging. “I am so very sorry. I have been misunderstood?”
“Not at all,” I said. “It’s just one doesn’t hear 3V called that much anymore.”
“3V is earthen vid, yes?” he said. “Yes, earthen vid is tube. It is what you call slang, yes? Or low down? I hope I don’t offend. My son uses these words, but I myself know almost no low down.”
I told him I didn’t either, and introduced myself. Mike and Charles did the same, while the 3V crew – which consisted of two cameraman and a pair of angry looking women which I believed to be the director and her assistant – silently captured every frame. The two bodyguards watched grimly from the side.
“Please follow me,” the gobo said. “I am Wilam, your driver pilot. I will take you to Asitot.”
He led us down the deck and into the shuttle tube. He told us about himself along the way. He himself did not know Vavaka but had been hired just to take us to Asitot and to serve as our guide and driver if needed once we arrived.
“Wonderful,” said India, and seemed to really mean it, while her two bodyguards stepped forward to pat him down. Have I introduced the bodyguards? No? That’s probably because they never introduced themselves. One was large and silent, the other was larger and more silent. I figured them to be a part India’s regular entourage. They were human, both square-jawed and rectangular, both with dark hair cropped close to the head. The only things that separated them were a slight difference in height and the fact that one – the taller – wore a plastic tie while the other wore the open collar.
Both also wore opaque bi-cells – the phones that looked like wraparound sunglasses – and I assumed they, like the 3V crew, were recording everything.
Anyway, Wilam was exceptionally friendly and chatted amiably as he led us down the tube. He was a father of three, well-traveled, originally from Barnaby, Asitot’s moon. We arrived shortly at a large first-class cabin, more spacious than I’d ever personally seen in a taxi shuttle.
“Adula and Ruisha will be happy to serve food and drinks once we are in transit,” Wilam said as two guvian attendants appeared to prepare us for the flight. “Please get settled and we will take off as soon as you are ready.”
Adula was a tall willowy female, Ruisha an equally tall, equally willowy male. They moved like graceful blades of grass swishing gently in the wind. Ruisha helped us each with our lap belts while Adula took drink orders. I requested a blue soviet, as did India – she said she’d never tried one – and both Charles and Mike had beers.
The larger of the guards stayed with us in the cabin, as did both cameramen, hoping they said to capture some b-roll conversation. The director and the other guard disappeared into the back of the shuttle, while Wilam, Adula, and Ruisha left us to prepare for the flight.
“This is a U-Ship shuttle?” Charles asked. He l
ooked to India for an answer but she gave him a blank expression and shrugged. “Must be,” he answered himself. “Why would Vavaka use anything else?”
“It’s a TR-1900. Earthen construction,” said Mike.
“How do you know?” I asked him.
“I made a model once,” he said. “Do you play Space Racer? I’m a level nineteen.”
“I don’t,” I said. “Is this a racer?”
“No,” he said, “but you can make all types. Maybe he uses TR-1900s for U-Ship.”
“Maybe it’s a rental,” I said. “It could belong to Wilam.”
I felt a mild vibration as we took off, well insulated by the fine construction of the ship. The shuttle moved so smoothly and effortlessly we might still have been sitting in the hangar. “Windows please,” said India, and the walls of the cabin became transparent. We watched the hangar slowly shrink into the distance behind us.
Ahead, Asitot was still just the tiniest dot in the sky, pale yellow against the black. I could barely keep my eyes off it as it grew ever so slowly to where I could just start to see a hint of texture, the atmosphere that covered the surface. Asitot was a desert planet, more common as far as nucleic life was concerned than our own watery variety. Continents as we understood them were not a thing on Asitot. Instead there were only a few lakes scattered across the planet and gobos throughout their history had commonly lived underground. Some activity happened on the surface, especially during the long hours of dusk and dawn, but most of the habitation took advantage of the cool temperatures below the surface where underground reservoirs of water supported a population only about one fifth of Earth’s thirty billion.
I had read up as much as I could on the planet, but I still had no idea what to expect other than what little I had been able to glean from playing in the simulated environment and watching clips on 3V. It had a geography, despite its desert nature, as rich and as varied as Earth, and a history equally so. I had no context, no connection with the planet on which to build an expectation.