Angry Young Spaceman (24 page)

“No, don’t worry about it man,” I said wandering to one of the empty recesses. “This’ll be fine.” I waved my hand in it experimentally. A rod about a finger-width shot out and, finding no one to impale, slowly returned.

“My hunger has suddenly disappeared,” I quipped to Hugh, who was going through one of his suit pockets.

Hugh laughed for the first time since I had arrived. I relaxed a little. I had turned Matthew down — and the two offworlder parties he was going to — because I had wanted to see what Hugh’s planet was like. And I had been wondering about Hugh ever since our conversation in the caves.

“You should have an adapter in your pocket, too,” said Hugh. “They think of everything.” He held the adapter close to the rod-hole and it shot out and sealed. I found mine and did the same in the neighbouring alcove, the hose from the adapter trailing into my suit.

An old guy left his alcove and rolled towards the door, his head watching us but his body not pausing. Like a child being carried away by his parent, the old guy’s eyes were locked on us — even as he left, his head turned nearly all the way back.

“What — how?” I sputtered. “How can he turn his head — aren’t there normal humanoid bodies under the armour?”

“Oh, there’s normal humanoid bodies under there,” Hugh said. “The neck ligaments have been ‘loosened,’ I’m told.” He tapped a place on his upper arm. “You feel a disk thing under the fabric?”

I felt for it and found it.

“Now push it till it clicks.”

There was a quiet snap from his, then mine.

“Slide it around a little...”

“Ow! Fuck!” I said.

“It’s found the vein,” said Hugh. “
Bon appetit
.”

We sat down on the floor, careful not to sit on our hoses.

“So,” I said. “Sounded like you had personal knowledge that there were humanoid bodies under there. Checking out the Armoured pornography?”

Hugh shuddered. “I haven’t been, although I’m certain it exists.”

“Where doesn’t it?” I agreed.

“I’ve been intimate with someone here,” Hugh said. “Although it didn’t involve any actual contact.” He flicked his hair back and pulled his knees to his finely-sculpted chin. “I’ll call her Marion. Her hair was too long, well past her ears, and that was the first clue. Then she tried to talk to me in the street. We talked a lot. We would have these frank conversations in the middle of crowds and no one paid us any mind. I thought it was because they respected people’s privacy. But eventually I realized that sexuality has no meaning here. It was like discussing shoe sizes in front of an Octavian,” he said, waving to me.

I nodded, touching my arm anxiously. I hoped it was working.

“But Marion was strange. Marion wanted something. So we opened Marion up.”

“And?” I said, trying to see the answers in Hugh’s troubled face.

“I was amazed, first of all, at how easy it was. On one level. She lay down and unlocked herself. I just had to lift off the lid, which required all my strength, but still — I would have thought myself incapable of it. It was a coffin...” He shook his head. “I don’t know. Her body was smooth and pale, innocent of any muscle. Nothing I haven’t seen before. But then she raised her trembling head... to look at herself for the first time.” Hugh shook his head. “Then she dropped her head back down, a stricken look on her face. It was heartbreaking.”

“What did she—” I started.

“That’s just it, I don’t know. I touched her hand, as lightly as you would touch a bird, and there was a second — I guess it took a second for her to register what the sensory input meant — and then she started to scream.”

“Holy fuck,” I said.

Hugh nodded. “Oh yes, she screamed until I had returned the lid of her sarcophagus to its original state. Then she righted herself, and left, and I haven’t seen her since.”

“What a place for a lunarian to end up,” I said, shaking my head.

Hugh glared at me. “Oh yes, us with our voracious sexual appetites. That’s not a myth perpetuated for profit. Not at all.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” I blustered, “it’s just a cultural thing...”

“Poppycock,” he said. “Why do you think I requested to go with the Unarmoured for? Because I lusted after a cloud of nerve endings?”

I thought about the intense conversation he had been having with the Unarmoured riding the bullethead andy when we left the party, and shrugged.

The metre in Hugh’s alcove
snicked
and then so did mine. “Are we full?” I asked.

He snorted. “No, check out the gauge. We’re 1/4 through. Weren’t the appetizers scrumptious?”

I smiled. “Could be worse. It’s a little sterile, I suppose, but I can think of several planets where it’s worse. The Urasans, I understand, don’t chew...”

His face lit up. “Yes, have you seen it?”

I shook my head.

“I visited Urasa two years ago. They tossed entire potatoes down their gullets! And with such gusto!”

I raised my eyebrows. I would have thought Hugh would find lack of table manners disgusting.

“And they don’t have grinding teeth. Just jaws. You can certainly see them tearing into the flesh of another animal. Which they did, you know, as recently as 200 years ago.”

That reminded me of the wallens. “No, I didn’t know.”

Hugh nodded. “Oh yes. The four-legged species barely escaped extinction.” He seemed to be fascinated by the subject, but not repulsed. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? That people considering themselves civilized could tear another people apart and actually eat them? And no one saying anything to stop it?”

“Well, it’s a tradition,” I said awkwardly. “It’s not like —”

“Hello, Hugh,” said an Armoured person, looming suddenly before us. “You are enjoying some meals, I see.”

“Hello, Mr. Samworth,” said Hugh, his smile slowly leaving his face.

Mr. Samworth’s head lolled to one side, his eyes stricken. He smiled suddenly. “You have a friend, I see.”

“Yes,” said Hugh, visibly sighing. He introduced us. “Mr. Samworth is the English teacher at my school.”

The Armoured’s block spun to face me.

I had a sudden flash of Mr. Samworth, opened-up, twitching and pale. I couldn’t help it.

“Where are you from?” he asked me.

“Mr. Samworth,” Hugh said, “remember when you asked me to tell you if you were being rude?”

Samworth spun back to Hugh. “Yes,” he said, forcing his head into a very floppy nod that would have put me off my food... usually.

“We are trying to have a private dinner. Private.”

“I see.” Spin. “It was good to meet you Sam. I am sorry I cannot shake your hand. Hee hee.”

There was something so scripted and forced to this that I couldn’t bear to look at him. I mumbled something.

He rolled out. Hugh stood to check the gauge, then slumped down to sit.

“He’s kinda creepy—”

“
Thank
you,” said Hugh, grabbing my shoulder. “Some days I wonder if it’s just me.”

“No, he’s creepy,” I confirmed.

“I have to work with him all the time. For the first two weeks he would say the thing about not being able to shake my hand
every day
. Finally I had to tell him that he could only say it once, to a new friend only.”

“What is it with his mouth, too? Why does he move his lips so strangely?”

“They all do that. Half of my lesson is spent trying to get them to move their lips in a normal way.”

He looked glum. I tried to cheer him up. “Hey, where did you hear about Chez FOOD, anyway? I like the way it’s entering into my bloodstream so evenly with just an occasional dash of air bubbles...”

He smiled wanly and put his chin on his knees. After a moment, he lifted his head. “I’ve been trying to access them. It’s not like I haven’t tried. I tried first with someone I thought was quite like the Armoured, then with Marion. It’s been futile, though.”

“Access them?”

“Emotionally, I mean.” He squeezed his nutrient hose. “Back on the moon, it was like... people’s locked doors fell open at my touch. Here... it’s like they don’t have doors. Maybe not even windows. I can talk to them, some of them, but I can’t communicate. They’re too different.”

I thought I knew what he was upset about. “But you
could
communicate with the Unarmoured...”

“More than that,” he said, his eyes piercing me. “I could learn from them. Their music, their art — it’s all about breaking down people’s barriers.”

“Do you ever think that they’d disappoint you?” I said. “Just like the people at the acting school?”

“That they’d be petty and crass?” he said. “That’s —”

“No, not disappointing in the same way,” I said. “You said they could teach you something, I just think that’s—” I shrugged.

“That’s what?” he said, softly.

“I don’t know.” I shifted. My butt was getting sore from sitting on cold metal. I felt kind of bad saying it, because what did I know? “I just think you would find they weren’t the answer to the riddle.”

“Well, I’ll never know now,” said Hugh.

“Yeah, you may as well set your zap gun to self-destruct,” I said.

He looked at me. “Is that an Earthling saying?”

“No, just something a friend of mine used to say.”

“Hmm.” He looked at me. “And what about you, how are you enjoying life under the sea?”

“It’s pretty good. I really like my host teacher. And I’ve met this great Octavian girl...” I didn’t look at Hugh, fearing a knowing look, “...she’s really smart and she actually fixed my droid.”

“Is there romance in the air — I mean, water?”

I shrugged, thinking about her stunned silence to the pug fights.

“If you had your way, would there be?” Hugh lightly probed in a way I would have found impossible.

“It’s hard to think about clearly,” I said. “Because I don’t know how much of this is my loneliness talking. I was trying to think about what I’d do if I was back on Earth, but I can’t.”

I looked at Hugh. He had his chin back on his knees again. “Are you lonely?” I asked.

“Yes,” said Hugh. “You know, I am. And I’m not dealing with it well at all.”

***

Mr. Zik and I walked out of the school together, melding into the stream of students leaving.

“Good-bye teecha!” came at me about a dozen times. I responded with cheery good-byes! in English until we came to the exit gate, at which point I switched into Octavian.

“
Oh, your Octavian is not very good,
” said one bratty kid.

“
It’s better than your English,
” I said, and was rewarded by a swell of raucous laughter from the swarm.

One girl, linked into a giggly vibrating three-girl chain, said dreamily, “
He is just like an Octavian
.”

I just smiled. Mr. Zik said, “Is he your bloyfriend?”

They translated, the girl who had spoken covering her face and keening in mortification. Her friend said, “
My
bloyfrienduh!”

“
You are too fat to have a handsome boyfriend,
” said one boy with an I.C.Y. cap.

“
You are too skinny, Scrap-of-Nothing
,” she said.

He moved towards her with a tentacle lifted, but Mr. Zik stopped him with a word. A friend grabbed his headcrest and shook it.

We were passing by the small store. A kid came out of it with a stick of candy poking out of his mouth and pointed at me, ran back in to get his friend, then they sprinted over to us.

After they had squashed and slid past our entourage they just looked at me until the kid with the candy smacked the other kid. Thus prodded, he said “Mr. Sam... Jinya?”

I thought he was trying to say something in English and failing. I gave him a puzzled look.

“Jinya... you?”

“Do you know...” Mr. Zik started for them.

“Do you know Jinya you?”

Ah. I nodded. “
Yes, she teaches me Octavian.
”

“She... my teacher... too!” he said, pointing to himself. “OK!”

“OK!”

“
She is so pretty
,” said the kid with the candy stick.

I didn’t react, looking serenely ahead with Mr. Zik.

“
Jinya’s face is too round,
” said one of the chain-girls with a sour look.

“Does she work at the private school?” Mr. Zik asked me.

I looked at him, I guess to see if I could detect any hostility or worry or anything on his face, but there was nothing visible. “Yes. She wants to be an English teacher, like you.”

“She is lucky to have met you,” he said. “You are the best way to learn English. Very lucky.”

I wondered about that.

***

When I walked in, she was cleaning the blackboard. Three tentacles quickly made short work of the day’s lessons.

“Oh, Sam!” she said when she saw me. “You are so early.”

I checked the time. “Yes. Sorry.”

She straightened one desk. “No, is good. I am finished. I am junior teacher,” she explained, looking around the room, “so I must clean the school.”

“Too bad,” I said. “In my school, the students clean.” To teach them discipline, Mr. Zik had told me when I asked him why it wasn’t automated.

“Because it is public school. This is private school.” She tapped her head with a tentacle in a very human gesture. “I forgot. Today I must clean the desk. Oh...” she looked at me sadly. “I do not have time to have a lesson today, Sam.”

“That’s OK,” I said. “You told me you might not have time.”

“I must go from here to straight-catch-a-bus,” she said, saying the phrase all at once. “Is right?”

“I must go straight from here to catch a bus,” I corrected, feeling a little frustrated because I couldn’t tell her why it was, only that it was. “Did you learn catch-a-bus from your class?”

“No, from you,” she said. “You are better than class.”

She opened up a closet and took out a box. I watched her, imagining for a moment her bragging to her friends how she had a great English teacher that she didn’t have to pay at all. The thought was black oil spreading in my brainpan.

“
What did you do at school today?
” I asked.

“No Octavian,” she said, waggling a tentacle at me.

We had agreed to that before, and at the time her explanation that I could speak Octavian to anyone on the planet had seemed reasonable.