Aliena (16 page)

The buildup was enormous, and that made Brom nervous. “I have to say I like the life we have had together,” he told Star. “You’re a lot of fun. But you’re going to be phenomenally busy as Interplanetary Envoy.”

“So are you,” she said. “You will be with me throughout, and Maple too. I need your support as part of the presentation, but also personally.”

That had been evident all along. “You have it.”

“Thank you.”

As if he was doing her a personal favor. Did she think he was not fully committed?

That night, alone together, she made passionate love to him, then broached her concern. “I am still not Aliena.”

And there it was. “Star, you’re great, you’re doing a perfect job, and I delight in your success and your company. But I do love Aliena.”

“I would not have it otherwise.”

Then a phenomenal idea burst upon him. “Maybe I could rejoin her—by transplanting into a Starfish host!”

She considered. “This is possible. If this is what you truly desire, I will not oppose it.”

“I’ll talk to her, when I finally get to see her again, after six months apart.” For there had been no trip to the starship, by Aliena’s design. She wanted him to work it out with Star.

“Talk to her,” she agreed.

Something was bothering her, but he was not figuring it out and doubted that he could ask her. “Thanks, Star. You’re great!”

“I support you as you support me.”

The day of the Unveiling finally came. They traveled to the White House as a party of seven: Star, Brom, Maple, the grandparents, and the guardians. The president himself made the announcement, and showed Star off on a giant stage covered by a myriad cameras that broadcast it to the world. Star was resplendent in an evening gown, with a diamond necklace and lesser gems sparkling in her hair. She was so beautiful that there was a collective murmur of awe.

Then she spoke. “It is true. I am an alien creature in a human host, because I could not survive on Earth in my own body. I come from a planet a hundred light years away, and I look like a starfish. Hence my name, here: Star. I have been living here for more than two years, learning the culture.” Technically it had been only six months, but they had agreed that the exchange of alien brains would not be mentioned; her term officially commenced with the arrival of Aliena. No one would care anyway, apart from Brom.

“I married a local man, and we have a child,” Star continued, bringing Brom and Maple to the stage. “They are completely human; only my brain is alien.” She went on to describe the benefits that the starfish were bringing to Earth. “We proffer three gifts, at first: accelerated propulsion for your space vessels so that you may come to travel between the stars as we do. Virtual Antigravity, that should facilitate your airplane flights and construction. And Stasis, which you may think of an instant freezing and thawing, though it is not cold, that can enable you to pass time in a seeming moment.”

She let that sink in, and the president nodded affirmatively. These were remarkable gifts. Then: “To help you get to know me better, there will be a lottery to select one man for a date with me.” She smiled. “This is only for show; my husband might object we became too friendly. Another lottery will select seventeen people, male, female, and child, to accompany our little family of three on a tourist excursion to the Starfish mother ship, where we will be suitably entertained. This event will illustrate the three gifts, as the shuttle into space will have greatly increased power, the antigravity will make it far lighter, and the stasis will make the journey seem instantaneous. You will get into the shuttle here, and get off it at the Starship immediately, as far as you are aware. That will be the first of many, as we do this with the other cultures of Earth. We want you to become familiar with the Starfish, and comfortable with our association, and to trust the new technology by experiencing it. Now I will sing my song.” And she sang the refrain of “My soul’s going to shine like a star,” beautifully. The Tabernacle Choir was not present, despite the president’s notion, but her perfect voice needed no assistance.

There was more, but that was the essence. Star was an instant, colossal hit. Even the underground media, routinely cynical about everything, were impressed. “So she’s an alien thing,” one commentator said. “Aren’t all women? She can share my bed anytime.”

They went on to make a similar presentation in Paris, where Star spoke and sang in French. Then China, where she did it in Chinese. She had taken the trouble to learn all the languages she needed. She finished with Australia and Africa. They loved her everywhere. Brom was impressed again by the power of physical appearance: they knew her brain was alien, but her body was lusciously human, and that was what counted. For women as well as men.

Meanwhile the lotteries produced their winners. Star had a public date with an American man, at government expense, walking hand in hand in a public park, going to a ball where they danced, having a fancy restaurant meal, attending a phenomenal laser light show, indulging in incidental conversation, and at the end, a chaste kiss. She was perfect, an instant sweetheart, and of course the man was instantly famous. The media raged with reports on every conceivable detail.

But alone with Brom, she almost collapsed. “Hold me!” she exclaimed, shuddering. Her perfect show
was
a show, and required a good deal of emotional energy to maintain, something she had little prior experience with.

In due course it was time for the first tourist tour to the mother ship. Star greeted each of the seventeen participants personally. Then the group of twenty boarded the shuttle—and exited at the ship, the stages of the journey covered by stasis. If they had been nervous about stasis, they were no longer. They would spread the word about how easy it was.

They took the roller coaster ride, and were given little starfish dolls as souvenirs. Then, while the tourists shopped for other artifacts at the free gift store, Brom, Star, and Maple went to the chamber to meet Aliena.

Star stood back with Maple, while Brom went up to the wall. “Aliena!” he cried, touching the wall as she lifted a tentacle to touch on her side.

“Brom,” the speaker said, translating her whistling to words.

“I have done it,” he told her. “I have been with Star. Now I want to be with you.” And he told her about his idea for transplanting his human brain into a starfish.

“I would love to have you with me,” Aliena said. “I ache for your company. But what you propose is not realistic. It would complicate the presentation of the Envoy with a human family. Who would take your place?”

“I don’t know. But any man would be happy to be with Star.”

“And would Star be happy with any man?”

That made him pause. “I’m not sure.”

“And how would you adapt to the utterly foreign life as a starfish, where you would have no useful abilities? Kindness and consideration have no value here. You would have to learn everything from scratch—and Brom, you would be a moron among our kind. It would grieve me to do that to you.”

She was making uncomfortable sense. “I would try. I would sweep floors, or the equivalent, so long as I could be with you.”

“I appreciate that. And what of Star?” she asked. “Did you tell her?”

“She’s amenable. Ask her!”

Aliena whistled, and Star responded, the communication so rapid that they seemed to whistle together. Then Alien spoke to Brom, again, quietly. “Star loves you.”

“She said it was all right.”

“Brom, she has labored to learn love, and she has learned it at last, but it has not been easy. Human emotions are even more difficult for her than they were for me. She has learned to love you, but she will not be able to love another person. She needs someone she knows and trusts, who knows and loves her for what she is rather than for what she appears to be. Who will be strong when she is weak, and always there for her. As I needed you before. Only you can be that for her. Will you do to her what I did to you?”

What was this? “I don’t understand.”

“I won your love, then left you to your desolation despite my promise not to. Just as Lucy did.”

“You couldn’t help it! Neither could Lucy!”

“But
you
can help it.”

Brom digested this. “Star has been the perfect wife. But it’s her job, not love.”

“I know her as it seems you do not. It
is
her job, but also love. She learned to love you because she knew it was what I wanted. Because we starfish can’t properly understand humanity without understanding love. She knew that I chose her because she was the best substitute available for me in every way, including the potential to love you. She knew that I wanted her to do everything for you that I could no longer do, being with you constantly, thrilling you with sex, and loving you. I want you to be loved. Not every starfish would do that.”

“But
you
love me. That’s all I want.”

“Remember when I sought the grandparents? Because I wanted Maple to be with those who loved her. I sought Star similarly, for you. I gave her to you. Are you rejecting my gift?”

“Aliena, I don’t want to be unfaithful to you! I have done the rest with Star, but you are the only one I love.”

“Brom, it is a changed situation. Star is doing the job, but she can’t do it alone. She needs a man who truly understands her nature, and supports her completely, and loves her. The way I needed you and your love. The best way you can love me is by loving her. Let yourself do it!”

“I—can’t. In time, yes, but not right now. It’s too soon.”

“You can. You will give up nothing of me; I will always be here for you. I still love you. I joy in your success and happiness. But I can’t give you sex or another child or the rest. Star can. She complements me. She is doing everything I could have done, including loving Maple.”

“Maple!” he said. “I forgot her!”

“You forgot a lot,” Aliena said sternly. “Now accept Star. Not some time in the future. She needs you
now
.”

The realization was crushing. “I have wronged her.”

“Not yet. Now it is time for you to abolish the shell. Let it be real, as it was with me.”

Brom knew she was right. He had been selfish in excluding Star, and it was not what was feasible or fair. He realized also that he had fallen in love with a starfish mind in a human host. Now Aliena was a starfish mind in a starfish body, no longer human, almost cynically practical. She was not the same creature. Now she had a different job to do. He would only be in her way. She was trying to let him down easy.

But Star was a starfish mind in a human body. She needed him, as Aliena no longer did. She was now closer to what he loved than Aliena herself was, ironically.

“Look at her, in the reflection,” Aliena said.

He saw Star in the wall’s reflection, standing with Maple hugging her doll. Both were tense, afraid of what was to happen, but not interfering. As Aliena had been when he learned her true nature. Star had said she would not oppose his going to Aliena—because she loved him. She would not take him against his will. It was his decision. But his departure would be utter grief for her.

She was the perfect woman in every imaginable respect. How sad that he was not the perfect man. The whole world loved her. He did not?

It was like a dam bursting apart, releasing the pent water to flood the region with emotion. He
did
love Star, as well as Aliena. It was right that he be with her.

He stood up. He turned to face Star. She gazed at him without expression, refusing to plead or try to influence him. She was almost painfully fair-minded.

“My soul’s going to shine like a star. . .” he sang as he walked toward her.

She sounded her Note as she gladly opened her arms to him, her tears flowing.

So did Maple, to his surprise, sounding her Note.

And so did Aliena.

Author's Note

I am a disciplined writer. I plan ahead on my projects, so that I have a general notion what I will be working on and when it will be completed. But my ideas come randomly, often when I can't write them, such as when I am amidst an exercise run. Yes, Aliena's exercise runs were inspired by mine; I am 78 at this writing and indulge in a sedentary occupation, so I make sure to exercise regular to maintain my health. My runs are not very fast, but that's not the point, revving up my body, making its systems function, burning calories, maintaining muscle instead of fat, that's the point. The fact is, exercising the body is better for the brain than doing mental exercises. So when I get a notion while running, or showering, or eating, or catching up on chores, I work it out as far as I can in my mind, then when I can, scribble it in pencil on paper. Then when I am at my desk with the computer on, I transcribe the pencil note to a more complete typed note in my Ideas file. The computer count informs me that that file is at present more than 181,000 words long. I could reduce it by a lot if I erased notions once they have become stories or novels, but I prefer to maintain their creative history. Ideas have been accumulating for some time; the oldest notion is dated January 7, 1977 in pencil, transcribed to the file on June 14, 1989. Some ideas languish for decades; some may never be used. Some get used when I review the file, looking for a story to write on request, or something to fill in a gap in a novel. But some grab me from the outset; they will not be denied.
Aliena
was such a case.

It started on November 24, 2012, with 600 words summary on a notion I titled “Friend.” I had finished writing the 38th Xanth novel
Board Stiff
the week before and was trying to take some time off before writing a novelette “Forbidden Fruit” in Tweets, each chapter limited to 140 characters or less, for my Piers Anthony promotional effort. Promotion is a pain, but as with taking out the garbage, or answering fan mail, it has to be done. Next day I added another 400 words, naming the protagonists, and the day after that, another 700, working out her auto-immune illness and loss. Okay; the notion was complete, awaiting my convenience. Then a month later came another extended siege of notes, continuing pretty much daily through January 20013. The idea would not let go of me, expanding from story to novella to short novel. I simply had to write it.

So in February 2013 I wrote it. Many of the details I worked out did not make it into the novel, and its overall nature shifted. This is the nature of writing, which can be like traveling: you can mark where you are going on a map, but when you actually go there you encounter traffic, weather, detours and distractions that change the nature of the experience. You handle it.

Aliena
was intended as a singleton piece, but by the time I finished it I saw that it could be taken as the beginning of a longer narrative. This, too, happens in writing; stories and characters can develop a will and direction of their own, and the author is obliged to fulfill their imperatives. Aliena started it, but Star is completing it. The starfish technological gifts will transform the world; shouldn't we see some of that transformation? And what of Aliena, now running the starship as it orbits the moon; is her story over? Are there other sapient alien societies out there, not necessarily as friendly as the starfish? This is a roiling stew of notions that may not suffer itself to be ignored too long. All starting with the idea of a young man being a friend to a woman who turns out to be other than he knew.

My wife gave me a book for Christmas,
Brain on Fire
, by Susannah Cahalan, subtitled
My Month of Madness
. I realized that it was the perfect reference for what happened to Becky and then to Aliena: an immune rejection of the brain. Much of it is peripherally familiar to us, because in 2004 my wife suffered a similarly mysterious malady that turned out to be an immune rejection of the myelin sheathing around the nerves leading to her arms and legs. Chronic Inflammatory Demyelinating Polyneuropathy, CIDP for short. Think of it as acid eating away the insulation around the wires in your electronic equipment, shorting them out. It put her in a wheelchair, and I had to push her around, and lift her in and out of it, because her arms lacked the strength to move the wheels. We had been married 48 years, and I feared we would not make 50. When she finally got a diagnosis and treatment, the same infusions the author of the book got, it slowly turned her around, and today she is back on her feet and functioning, albeit without the pep of her pre-illness life. There are a number of auto-immune diseases; some can be treated, others can't. We were lucky. But Aliena, with a genuinely alien brain, wasn't.

So there is some of my life and experience in this novel, unsurprisingly. I pretty much fell in love with Aliena, and grieved with Brom when she had to leave. Now I will have to come to emotional terms with Star. This, too, is typical of writing.

Readers who want to know more of me are welcome to visit my Web Site
www.hipiers.com/
, where I have background information like a list of all my 160+ published books, a monthly ornery liberal blog-type column, and maintain an ongoing candid survey of electronic publishers and related services to help writers locate the best prospects. There is also the blog site at
http://piersanthonyblog.blogspot.com/
, and a Twitter site for my stories told in Tweets, at
https://twitter.com/PiersAnthony
. And my email,
[email protected]
. I am approachable, if that is your interest. Even if you didn't enjoy the novel. (And why the bleep didn't you? Tell me.)