Most days when he would get home from work, Belinda would join him there. Then they would walk outside in his garden and talk. Sometimes she sounded as if she was interviewing him as a doctor; then other times she sounded as if she was interviewing him as something else, as a woman in other words.

  He didn’t know what to say in those moments; he held back from her, from this world, in his usual Jose Martine Is Uninvolved way.

  Then one day he woke up and found that though he wanted to hold back…he couldn’t hold back as easily as he used to. He had to work at it more now in order to succeed at it.

  It seemed this world had finally affected him. And now he wondered about the extent of the influence.

  *

  Jose’s inability to be very social with others included with women too; he’d only been in a few brief relationships over his lifetime. But there was something about Belinda that he really liked, even though he couldn’t pinpoint what that something was. Maybe he would need to spend even more time around her to do that.

  He decided to spend the time, not just so he could figure her out or figure out the dynamic they’d been developing together. He also wanted to be around her because he felt a warmth toward her, as if their orange world was indeed affecting him so much, his personality was now changing.

  He and Belinda began taking longer walks together in the world—including taking a train to the more out-of-the-way parts of this particular settlement and then observing them on foot.

  One afternoon when they were walking side-by-side on a path between the usual bubble-like orange buildings of the settlement, Jose said, “I keep meaning to ask you: why don’t you all give this world a name?”

  “It doesn’t need one,” Belinda said. “It is our pure existence here. On that level, on the level of pure awareness, of pure connection, labels aren’t needed.”

  “Some people say that about love.”

  “Do they?” she asked, her head turning to him and her eyes narrowing slightly yet deliberately, as if she were examining the inner workings of his brain through the microscope lens of his face.

  It was his turn to ask a question: “Have you forgotten that about humans—about society on Earth? About all the history there?”

  Her head turned to look ahead of the two of them now. “You know I haven’t forgotten. We’ve spoken about it before.”

  “Yes, but for all your talk of pure awareness, you still choose what isn’t important to keep about everyone’s personal and cultural pasts around here as you ‘evolve’ them. Why do those details even get negative attention here if they don’t matter?”

  Now she was looking at him again, peering at him hard through that imaginary, scientist’s lens, except, this time, her dark eyebrows wrinkled a little uncertainly. “I never thought of that before. It’s a good point.”

  *

  That night, Belinda came into Jose’s house, and he fixed dinner for the two of them, for the first time. Having lived alone his whole adult life, he had always cooked for himself and had turned into quite a cook. He was glad the re-creation process hadn’t removed that from his skill-set.

  He said that to Belinda when she was sitting across from him at his round dinner table, polishing off the last of the savory potato casserole he’d made to impress her.

  She now put down the blue spoon in her hand onto the empty blue plate on the table. “The re-creation process doesn’t touch brains directly that much. Destroying is not our intention.”

  “I know,” was all Jose said about that. He really didn’t want to get into a debate tonight. “Had enough food?”

  “I’m so full!” Belinda said, a very satisfied smile on her face.

  Jose’s eyes lingered on that smile; then he stood up fast and collected their plates to bring over to the kitchen’s sink area, which had been outfitted in a very shiny, copper-colored metal.

  He and Belinda began loading the dirty dinner dishes into the box-like countertop washing mechanism, and when she pressed one of her slender hands to the coppery counter to balance herself better, she unintentionally did it in such a fluid, graceful way. He couldn’t help himself: his hand slid along the countertop edge and gently pressed on top of hers.

  She stilled sharply, her other hand poised on the washing box’s electronic controls. Slowly, her head finally turned his way, and her dark eyes looked different than he’d ever seen them; they were cloudy with something—sadness, and maybe even a little guilt?

  His hand shifted and tugged at hers a little.

  She turned his way more, entwining her fingers in his, and seemed to sigh, very softly. Her dark eyes lowered a little. “I…like you, Jose. It’s just that I…I’ve worked on you. You’re a patient of mine. I’m not supposed to do anything with you. And it’s been a while for me….”

  “For me too.” His fingers pressed on hers a little harder. “I don’t care about the rules. Do you?”

  Her gaze turned even shyer now, turned away from him more.

  His hand finally loosened on hers, and it was his turn to sigh. “We don’t have to do anything. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I at least want to be your best friend though.” He couldn’t help laughing a little under his breath.

  She smiled, quickly grabbing his other hand. “Of course you can be that—you already are. Let’s go for another walk outside. There’s a light-show in the agora on the main avenue.”

  They went to the show then, and they watched as the performers in it narrated an alien history from one of the species that had become part of the world.

  The performers used special lights that bounced back in predetermined ways from the world’s artificial night atmosphere, which made the sky look like the star configuration near the alien’s home planet.

  Jose watched this amazing sky-show while holding Belinda’s left hand in his right. When the narration explained how the aliens crash-landed right into the world after their spaceship’s jump through space went awry, Jose felt Belinda flinch.

  His mouth moved nearer to her face. “What is it?”

  Belinda’s eyes were on the show, but she seemed to swallow hard. “I probably have some of their lineage in me…I can almost remember what happened to them.”

  “That can’t be, can it?”

  He watched her head shake a “no” really fast, as if she were trying to convince herself that it couldn’t be.

  *

  That night, Jose went back to his home, alone; he stood before that long wall mirror in the living room, his eyes slowly going over his serious face and dark hair, looking for but not finding some visible changes.

  Then he remembered the sky-show and all the performers and the other people in the audience; he remembered how they all stood there together, yet they were apart from each other, each of them some artificial creation staring up at an artificial night sky on an artificial world.

  When Jose looked at his image in the mirror now, he saw that his whole body had begun shaking.

  *

  The cargo-bay area at work the next day was busy with both cargo and people, and Jose himself was too busy typing data into his hand-held recording device to think about anything else or to stand in front of a window-wall apart from it all. He had to be present and interact with others today, but he still avoided doing so for more than a moment at a time.

  He was both physically and mentally tired by the time he got home. Belinda showed up a few minutes later and asked him if he wanted to go out to dinner; he grabbed one of her hands and forgot how tired he was as they walked onto the main avenue near his house.

  It was early evening but still light out. He and Belinda had to walk quite a distance toward the area of the settlement where there were a lot of food bars; the avenue was crowded today, and people kept inadvertently brushing against Jose as he moved through the crowd.

  Sweat broke out on his face. Belinda was beside him, but she didn’t seem to notice Jose; she, too, was focused on weaving her way through the crowd.

  “How many people are on this world—are they all in this settlement tonight?” Jose asked in a frustrated voice.

  Belinda grunted a little. “The elders are giving their yearly status-speech here.”

  Jose’s head jerked her way. “I’m surprised you didn’t want to go.”

  “I did go, for a little, before I came to your house.”

  Jose thought it telling that she hadn’t asked him if he wanted to go to the speech—

  Someone brushed against him again—a little too hard. Jose only caught a glimpse of the tall person with the blue-tinted skin and clear eyes.

  Then Jose caught more than a glimpse: the person had turned around, and now walked up beside Jose. Jose stopped moving, and so did Belinda. The blue, humanoid-looking being was apparently naked, but it didn’t appear to have genitals. It did have a long tail, and it was making squeaking sounds through the very-red lips on its face.

  “Jose,” Belinda said fast, “this person has quite a lot of Barwand ancestry. He says he hopes he didn’t hurt you, and he wants to apologize.”

  “I’m fine,” Jose said fast.

  “The Barwand apologize by letting others stroke their arms,” Belinda continued, a little shake in her voice now. “Their skin is in a high-energy state and others get a jolt from the stroking that makes them feel good.”

  “Uh,” Jose said slowly, “I guess it’s all right then.”

  “Touch the Barwand’s forearms and keep stroking them from the elbow down.”

  The Barwand held out his blue arms, palms up. And Jose touched where Belinda said then stroked down, feeling a decidedly pleasant jolt move through him. But as he continued petting the Barwand’s arms and the jolt began to subside, Jose felt something else, something familiar: the elastic, springy feel of the alien skin felt like Jose’s own skin.

  Sweat suddenly broke out on his forehead and his heart began painfully pounding.

  This is wrong! What am I doing here!

  Jose whipped his hands back and he rushed away, almost tripping over his own feet.

  Belinda ran after him and grabbed one of his arms. “What is it?”

  “The Barwand’s skin—mine feels like that now. Do I have his alien species in me?”

  “Yes,” Belinda said.

  Feeling alarm mixed with a pinch of disgust at the freakiness of his new self, Jose stopped moving abruptly, making Belinda almost trip this time.

  He stared around the two of them, at the other people, at the round buildings, at that orange film over everything. It all looked so wrong to him now. He felt like he was floating between everything around him; he felt adrift somewhere he wasn’t meant to be.

  Before, as normal Jose, no matter how much he loved traveling through space and seeing incredible things, he still always wanted to have the base of his life on the home of humanity. He still loved the Earth. But now, he could never see it again.

  His head turned toward Belinda, and when their eyes met, he finally said what he’d lately been hoping he would never say: “I’m sorry. I just can’t do this anymore. I want to leave this world.”

  He felt a painful twist in his gut as he watched some of the warm light in Belinda’s eyes fade and her soft mouth curl in a bewildered way.

  *

  Over the next few days, she tried to dissuade him from thinking of leaving; so did the elders try to dissuade him through her. But Jose couldn’t be dissuaded. It hurt him too—because of Belinda. If he left, he’d never see her again. If he stayed, he’d never see the Earth again.

  He felt torn apart now, as if someone was working on re-creating him again and he just couldn’t figure out how to keep himself intact.

  *

  “The elders have decided to let you leave,” Belinda finally told him when they were standing in his living room one day, facing each other. “I know that you’ll never be entirely happy here, but I still don’t understand why you want to leave. No one here has ever felt that way.” She was in front of the big window, and the hazy orange light outside spilling into the room made the outline of her dark hair glow. She was tall, golden and beautiful, and he wanted to grab her and kiss her, wanted to ask her why she didn’t want to leave.

  But before he could do that, she shocked him by telling him she did want to leave. “And it’s because of you. I want to be with you. There’s something about you…that you haven’t entirely acclimated to this world is unheard of. As a scientist and a doctor, I want to know what it is about you that’s made this happen. And as a person and a woman, I don’t want to let you go.”

  He moved closer to her and quickly grabbed her in his arms. She felt warm and light and seemed to melt into him. But then he suddenly pulled back and grabbed both of her hands in his. “I don’t want to let you go either! Well, what do we do now? How do we leave? Can we just get into a ship and go?”

  Her fingers squeezed his, as if she was bracing him for something, or maybe bracing herself. “Unfortunately, we can’t. We must go through a re-creation process again. We’re no longer physically adapted to exist anywhere but in this kind of environment, and this is the only one of that kind we have access to. If we don’t get re-created again, we won’t be compatible with anywhere else for more than a few weeks at most before our physiologies will shut down.

  “And the problem inherent in that is: no one can promise that you or I would be exactly the same after another re-creation. But we’d probably be almost the same as we are now.”

  “That’s good enough for me. Is it for you?”

  She nodded fast, her fingers tightening on his.

  “Then let’s get going with the procedure as soon as possible.”

  They did get going with it, the very next day, and Jose seemed to experience endless hours of regret as his body once again went through those immense pains he’d experienced when he died, which he now saw was actually the process of re-creation, or maybe re-re-creation, or maybe anti-creation….

  “My god—it’s agonizing!” he screamed at one point. He was on a table somewhere—no, was he in a vat of cold liquid?

  Through the hazy field of pain, a part of him suddenly remembered Belinda was also going through this somewhere, and all because she had chosen to be with him. Now, he regretted her pain too—felt extremely heartsick about it.

  “No, no—no!” he screamed when his skin seemed to have instantly melted off his bones. Then it felt as if his skin came back and was now being smothered with a heavy oil. He could no longer breathe—

  Darkness now. Both conscious and unconscious. Where is Earth? My ship?

  No—leave me alone!

  My god, no—not again….

  …The pain was finally gone.

  His seated body felt slumped over; he couldn’t see, or maybe his eyes were closed. He tried to move them and they slowly opened to a view that was blurry at first, but gradually cleared into a viewscreen full of stars and the perpetual night-black of space.

  He was on a ship—his ship, the Landspring. And he was in his own old clothes.

  His eyes opened wider. Something touched his right hand—no, someone. Belinda!

  Her face looked tired, her eyelids droopy, but her mouth was curled into a twitching smile.

  “Hello, New Belinda,” he said.

  Her smile broadened as her fingers entwined in his. “Hello, New Jose.” She was in one of her long white dress-robes, and she had been slumped in the chair beside his. But now she slowly sat up more, her hand slipping from his.

  “Are you thirsty?” he asked, suddenly realizing he was extremely thirsty.

  Before she could even respond to him, he sprung up from his pilot’s seat and moved across the bridge, toward the large pantry room where he used to keep provisions. The re-creators must have re-stocked the ship; the pantry was loaded with bushels of fresh and dried fruits and vegetables, and dried crackers, and the ship’s water tank had been filled to maximum.

  Jose moved toward the shelves where he always kept metal cups, but when he grabbed two of them, they dented badly as if they’d been made from the thinnest aluminum foil.

  His eyes widened, and he called for Belinda as he rushed out the pantry doorway.

  “I’m having problems,” he said, standing there staring down at his two hands holding the two half-crushed cups. “I’m too strong.”

  “Me too,” Belinda said as she came up to him. “I cracked the armrest on my chair when I got up. Our increased strength is apparently an unplanned side-effect of a re-creation catered to the typical human environment, which the re-creators had never tried before. It seems we can’t go back to being all human. We’ve been hardened by the more extreme environment of the other world, and the re-creating couldn’t evolve all of that out of us.”

  “Well, I guess we’ll adjust…but then…” he looked at her “…isn’t being stronger an advantage? We could become superheroes.” He laughed at his own words…but he still wondered.

  “There could be other changes too—I hope not bad ones!” Belinda glanced over her shoulder toward the front of the bridge. “The others left me my medical equipment. I’ll check us out—later. I’m dying of thirst now too….”

  They carefully drank three dented cups full of water each; then they went back to the chairs and carefully sat down.

  Jose looked down at the readouts on his pilot’s panel; everything on the ship had been repaired and refueled, but the ship was only barely moving through space. He lifted his eyes to the viewscreen image of the exterior.

  He should have fired up the jump engine because the ship was now in the middle of nowhere, which made sense; the people from that world only went to areas where they weren’t likely to be detected.

  But where did he, Jose, want to go? Belinda?

  He asked her about that.

  Her eyes were on the viewscreen, and she seemed to shrug beneath her white robe as she smiled. “I don’t know. Anywhere would be okay with me.”

 

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