|
|
|
by Therese Arkenberg
Science Fiction, 10 pages.
Originally Published in Kaleidotrope, 2008
Rate this Story
I met Tesio in the company cafeteria. It was lunch break, around 12:30 on a steamy August afternoon, though thanks to the air conditioning it was cool enough to wear a long coat inside. I had been late getting downstairs and squabbling tribes of diners had already taken most of the little tables. I found myself squashed with other latecomers, strangers, and just plain weirdoes at a corner table.
I had just sat down with a tray carrying a cup of coffee and a bowl of macaroni and cheese when his shadow fell over me. This was not in any ominous way, you understand. He was a little on the short side, perhaps with an inch or two on me. He wore a tunic that looked a bit like something Robin Hood would wear, only in russet orange, and instead of leggings, he was in chain-strung blue jeans. His hair was long, past the waist, and nearly the same brown-orange as his skin. That told me he was Requian, from the planet Reque, which sounds like ”wreck”. In case the hair wasn’t enough to convince me, the tropical-sea blue eyes did. They were a strange shape, like an almond, larger at one end than the other. Aside from that he looked human. If we sent in a waist-length hair or two for DNA testing it would come back human. While that was a little strange, seeing as he had been born circulating Fomalhaut, it was comforting to know that at least I would be dining with someone who had my species’ DNA to at least five hundredths of a percent. Though the theories of how he had got that shared DNA weren’t comforting to think about over a meal.
“Hi,” he said. Everybody at the table mumbled a greeting before we realized he was speaking to me, specifically.
“Hi,” I said.
He pointed at a spot below my left eye. “That’s a beautiful flower.”
I brushed charcoal-black hair from my face. “It’s a star.” It was a smallish tattoo, shaped like a squashed star, in a periwinkle shade that nearly blended with the veins beneath my pale skin. It had been made in a sort of play on my name- Celestia. “But thanks,” I added. After all, flowers on Reque might look like stars.
I introduced myself, “Celestia Munroe.”
“Tesio Coré,” he shook my hand.
“Pleased to meet you. Ah... where’re you from?” I asked, trying to make conversation. “Within the company, I mean.”“Marketing,” he said. “Trying to spread the word of Firefuels, Inc., to the people of my planet. I’m here to negotiate some deals as well. Funding, mostly.”
“And how are you liking Earth?”
“It’s pretty nice.”
“You’ve learned the language well.”
His left hand tapped his temple, perhaps reflexively.
“Translator chip.”
“Cool. What’s it like?” I never planned to have a computer in my brain, but, still. I was curious.
“It’s just as if I’ve always known the language. Sometimes I think I’m speaking Tusstaii, and it comes out in English.” He laughed a little shakily.
We continued talking about whatever came to mind for the rest of lunch, with our tablemates looking at us a little strangely. When Tesio’s wrist comlink beeped, he looked down at it, muttered something under his breath, then turned to me.
“It’s been a pleasure speaking with you. If you approve, I’d like to extend the pleasure sometime. Would you like to join me for dinner this weekend?”
“I’d love to,” I replied faintly. It seemed rather sudden, though not unwelcome. Beneath my feet I felt a phantom floor fall out, leaving me to fall or fly. Which I would do, I wasn’t sure yet.
The rest was logistics. I suggested Moy’s, a Chinese restaurant in one of the nicer quarters of New Jericho. I dressed carefully that evening, in a blue silk blouse and leg-hugging black pants, with a silver star pendant. It was warm outside, and even though they were fashionable I didn’t bother with a coat.
Tesio was dressed a little more formally than usual. That is, he was wearing a drab brown over-tunic instead of a brighter red, yellow, or maroon one. The shirt beneath was a dullish shade of green, still bright enough to catch the light and a passerby’s eye. Tesio hadn’t tied his hair back, because it was long enough to hang straight of its own accord. It didn’t have the dignity of a ponytail, but it had the elegance of... himself.
“Shall we enter?” he asked with a bow.
“Of course.” I was a little surprised when he offered me his arm, but I accepted it. Moy’s Sun Street door was wide enough for us to enter side by side.
The dining room was shaped like an octagon, paneled with red lacquer wainscoting. There was a video going on the 140-inch plasma TV in the back. I was glad to see it was 2-D, where special effects were, well, special-er and where the pinkish haze caused by hologram generators simply didn’t exist. It was a spy thriller, the sort popular 45 years ago, starring wily detective Lhux David. Lhux was a slight, observant, youngish man whose bright eyes were perpetually hi -- [End of Preview.]