Thunderbird (29 page)

If you are an artist at all, you will be not the mouthpiece of a century, but the master of eternity.

—Oscar Wilde, lecture, Royal Academy, London, 1833

D
OLLY
LOVED
BEING
with Solya and Morkim. They surprised her on the third day when roughly a dozen Arkon neighbors showed up for a welcoming party. She'd learned that they were out there but hadn't expected to see them. They brought drums and string instruments, and laughed, sang, and danced into the night. They took turns swinging and pirouetting with her, and in fact she and John were the stars of the show. The experience took a little getting used to, but the Arkons moved with more natural grace and alacrity than she'd expected. Dolly had always been good on her feet, but keeping up on this occasion required a serious effort.

Although there was some initial shock, they showed no reluctance about accepting her. Years later, when she looked back on her time at the cabin, she recognized that the party had played a major role in her overall success. She had, on that night, become one of them.

Several returned over the next few days. Dolly let them see she was
happy in their company, and they enjoyed providing assistance with her main objective. She was gradually acquiring skill in the language, and some of them began greeting her in English. And then laughing at the difficulties, even though they usually got it right.

She returned a couple of times to Fort Totten to load up on watermelon and cantaloupe, which her hosts and their neighbors thoroughly enjoyed. She was disappointed, though, when nobody showed any interest in the pizza. They viewed the entire cooking process as odd. But any kind of fruit went well.

She also brought back two battery-powered table lamps and a box of batteries for her hosts. Solya and Morkim screamed with delight. They hugged her and told her how lucky they were to have her for a friend.

Along the way, she learned that her conclusion that the book was a collection of plays was correct. She'd brought along multiple copies of six of the Arkon plays. “I think I have a better way to learn to read these,” she explained. “If you'd be willing to help.”

“We will be happy to assist.” Solya looked at her mate. Even Dolly could see that he was not excited at the prospect of reading plays, but he said yes, of course he would do what he could.

Dolly gave them each a set of the copies and kept one for herself. “I'd like you to pick one that you're familiar with. That you think I would enjoy. And read some of the parts for me.”

They looked through them, conversed briefly, and decided on one. “The title,” Solya said, “is
Lyka
.”

Dolly settled back with her copy. “Okay. I'd like to get a feel for what it's about. How it reads. I can manage that best if I hear you guys delivering the lines instead of my trying to read them. We don't have to do the entire thing. We'll do some scenes, and, if you will, you can explain what happens between. Can we try it that way?”

They took a few minutes to assign parts and discuss other details. When her hosts talked to each other, feeling no need to include Dolly in
the conversation, they spoke more quickly, so following them was much more difficult. But she welcomed it as a test of her progress. “We're ready,” Morkim announced after a few minutes.

“Good,” said Dolly. “Let's do it.”

•   •   •

L
YKA
IS
A
young female, in love with Bakaro who, as nearly as Dolly could judge, is a member of an exploration team. In the opening scene, Bakaro is brought home by rescuers after having been lost for years and given up for dead. His ship had gone down, and he'd been the only survivor, stranded on a remote island.

When he returns, Bakaro discovers that Lyka, with whom he had expected to mate, has committed to Aman Glam, his closest friend. She still loves Bakaro, however, and, after a struggle with her feelings, she agrees to rejoin him. Glam, heartbroken, and suffering from an overwhelming guilt for having pursued his friend's lover, frees her from all obligations, and tells Bakaro he has released her from all commitments, and that he regrets any complications he might have caused. Committing to mate, however, imposes a sacred obligation in the culture, and if Bakaro accepts the deal, Lyka's reputation will be ruined. But apparently not his. Furthermore, Bakaro perceives that Glam is hopelessly in love with Lyka and that life without her will be a disaster for him.

It's obvious from the start that there will not be a happy end.

The play was difficult for Dolly, though, simply because, even with Solya and Morkim reading and explaining as they went, she still didn't have the grasp of language and culture that would have allowed her to ride along and experience the emotions of the characters. Maybe if she could have stopped taking notes, at least. She remembered Mrs. Schriver in high school explaining that fiction writers don't try to tell a story. Rather, she'd said, they want to create an experience. When the girlfriend in the book tells the guy that she's sorry, but it's over, and she walks away from him,
the intention is that the reader be left in tears. When you're struggling with the language, that's not going to happen.

Ultimately, Lyka refuses both males because she doesn't want to destroy a longtime friendship, and also because she believes less pain will be inflicted if neither has to watch her give herself to the other. She accepts the destruction of her own reputation and leaves the community.

Dolly thought the play could work for an American audience, given a decent English translation. Add the fact that
Lyka
would be the first theater presentation of a work written by aliens, and it was a fair bet to become a megahit.

What she was beginning to suspect during her time with Solya and Morkim was that maybe there would be no aliens. Not on Eden and not anywhere else. They might look a bit different. And cultures would vary. But where it mattered, maybe they would all share the same core.

That feeling was reinforced when she accompanied her hosts as they went looking for food. The excitement and energy they exhibited picking fruit and vegetables off the vine was not unlike what she felt walking into an Italian restaurant.

•   •   •

L
IFE
IN
S
OLYA
'
S
home moved along. Dolly had virtually become a member of the household. She had her own room. The security escorts, who were in a tent nearby, came by occasionally and checked with her regularly by radio. James Walker had been unhappy with the situation and had resisted it from the start. But she'd stood her ground.

She was picking up the language without undue effort. She couldn't reproduce all the sounds, but she could get close. They sat and talked all through the day, laughing at occasional breakdowns. They did other plays, as well. And Morkim seemed to be acquiring enthusiasm for the project.

Her hosts were shocked when Dolly told them their world was a globe.
“You say,” Morkim asked, “it rotates, and that is how the sun descends into the ocean and comes back up next morning in the east. But how is it that we do not fall off during this process?” Dolly had gotten used to the smug smile that would have scared the daylights out of her a couple of weeks earlier but now implied only an Arkon sense of superiority.

Her hosts could not put down the books she'd brought. At first they'd asked where the waterfalls and canyons and architectural marvels depicted in them were located. “They're very far from here,” she said.

Morkim smiled. “They must be. We've never heard of them. And never seen anyone who looks even remotely like you and your friends. How can that be?”

She'd thought about trying to explain, but was prohibited from drawing attention to the Cupola. Not that it mattered. Trying to describe teleportation wouldn't have worked well.

“If you come from a place that is so far, how is it that you are able to bring fruit and food from there so easily?”

“It comes by boat,” she said.

“Is the boat here now?” asked Solya. “Could we go down and see it?”

“It's not here at the moment. It comes now and then.”

“Perhaps,” said Morkim, “next time it comes, you could take us for a ride.”

“It's big,” she said. “The captain doesn't like just going for rides.”

“I'm sorry to hear it.” Solya appeared genuinely disappointed. “Where you come from, does everyone look like you?” She was trying not to give offense. But the photos of humans in the books had also surprised them. Dolly had the impression they'd expected to see Arkons running things.

“More or less like me, yes.”

“And there's no one like us?”

That brought a smile. But she resisted the temptation. “No,” she said. “If you visited us, my people would be as surprised to see you as you were when we got here.”

“Truly remarkable,” said Morkim.

•   •   •

S
HE
PHOTOGRAPHED
EVERYTHING
. Neighbors, animals, picnics, Morkim playing his guitar. She recorded a wedding and a religious event that appeared to be a christening.

“Do you believe that someone made the world?” Dolly asked afterward. They had no term, as far as she knew, for “universe.”

“You mean Umbala?”

“Probably. He who controls nature.”

“Yes. Of course. He provides meaning for our lives. Why do you ask?”

“The ceremony that we just witnessed.” She wanted to refer to a spiritual dimension, but she didn't have sufficient command of the language. “And there's a suggestion of a presence that is more than physical in several of the plays.”

Solya and Morkim exchanged glances, and Dolly wondered if she'd strayed into forbidden territory.

“I have no doubt,” Solya said, “Umbala exists. That He watches over us, and holds us to account for how we live.”

Morkim and Solya had a lot of free time. That happens, Dolly decided, when you're good at building a log cabin, and all the food you will ever need is hanging from nearby trees. Morkim spent much of his leisure pursuing his painting hobby. Dolly couldn't decide whether he was seriously talented, or she just didn't expect much from someone who looked like him.

“Why are you smiling?” Solya asked.

“Just thinking how much I enjoy being with you and Morkim.”

The remark apparently touched her mate. “I would like,” he said, “to do a portrait of you.”

•   •   •

T
HEY
STARTED
THAT
afternoon. Next morning, as they were getting ready to resume, Solya had a surprise announcement. “One of our friends told me that she saw you coming out of the cylinder several days ago. Carrying books.”

She was referring to the Cupola. “Yes,” said Dolly. “That's correct.”

“Do you live there? When you're not here?”

“No. Why do you ask?”

“I was just wondering. Is that where you store your books?”

“Ummm, no.” Here we go again. Dolly probably, despite the prohibition, should have told her the truth at the start. She'd known this might happen but had not been able to prepare a reasonable explanation. The best she'd come up with was to claim it was a washroom.

“You know how to get in and out of that place?”

“Yes.”

“It has been there forever, but nobody was ever able to get inside.” She obviously hadn't heard about Jack's experience. “How do you do it?”

Morkim was straightening his canvas, but she could see that he was listening. Dolly had become good at reading the nonverbals from her hosts, which told her that more lies would be a dangerous option. “We have an electronic key.” It was close enough to the truth. The Arkons had no word for “electronic,” so she simply used the English term.

“What is an electronic key, Dolly?”

She reached for her flashlight and turned it on. Both Morkim and Solya had seen it before, of course, but they were still struck by the large yellow circle of light that appeared on one wall. “This is electronic.”

“So the key uses the same sort of power?”

“Yes.”

“And we could use that to open the door?”

“Not the flashlight. You'd need a different instrument. Why do you care?”

“It is a relic of the past. Very mysterious. We've talked occasionally about breaking into it, but we have people who say it would be wrong. It's protected by law.”

“That's good,” Dolly said.

“You obviously know its secrets.”

Morkim was still paying attention while he selected a brush and set up his pallet. He was doing it with deliberation. But he said nothing.

Solya's eyes focused on her. “Will you tell us who put it there? What it is?”

Dolly was trying to arrange herself in the position she'd assumed for the artist the previous day, hoping that he would get back to work. “We have no idea who put it there,” she said.

“But it was your people, wasn't it? I understand it was a long time ago, so you might not know specifically.”

“It wasn't us,” she said. “At least we don't think it was.”

“So who was it?”

Dolly shook her head. “We don't know. All I can tell you is that we use it sometimes to sit in the shade.”

Morkim reached out to Dolly and lifted her shoulder slightly. Then indicated she should lean forward a bit.

“Dolly,” said Solya, “you're not telling us everything.”

Morkim finally intervened. “If she's not telling us, love, she has a reason. Let it go.”

“We aren't supposed to talk about it,” Dolly said. “I signed an agreement not to.”

Solya's eyes closed momentarily. “With whom?”

“I'm sorry. That's as much as I can say. Do you want me to leave?”