Even without Las Vegas, we can have an edgy and miserable time.  Enjoy!

Content Warnings:  Mortal Despair, Heartbreak, Inequitable Class System, Pugilism, Misogyny, Sci-fi Racism, Sex Work Mention, Death Mention, Surveillance, Abduction, Cringe Culture, Drug Abuse, Self-harm, Slavery, and Barney the Purple Dinosaur.

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CENTENNIAL HILLS CONTINUES

by Bébé Mélange

Eliza and Shammy had taken turns with the alien restroom facilities, before returning to the conference room to find Scuzz face down on the table, moaning and whimpering.  Eliza pulled out a chair near the singer and sat down, elbows on the table, chin resting in her hands.  What a sight.  Shammy yarded out three chairs to give her room to come down and leaned over the table, palms down, trying to get a look at her face.

“Scuzz?  Scuzz?  You gon ta be OK?  You really that worried about Pep?  I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t talk to me, please,” she gasped out between sobs.

“She doesn’t want to talk, Shamar.  Have a seat.  We could be here a long time.”

“Aww, it just ain’t right.”  He leaned heavily on the table, pushing his head as low as it could go, to see her face.  All he could get was a little sliver of puffy pink mess, with bulging veins and glints of tears.  “I don’t much know you, but nobody deserves to feel like this, ma’am.”

She had nothing to say to that, and startled at his movement as he tentatively offered a comforting hand.  He withdrew it and finally took Eliza’s advice, sitting in one of the chairs.  They were designed for the inhabitants of that building, with space in the back for their rear-facing arm, but provided just enough lumbar support to not mess him up any worse.

Eliza spoke over the top of Scuzz, like she was a giant turkey in the middle of a sad Thanksgiving table.  The gravel of her voice came down to a soft buzz.  “If we were to figure out enough Ainabese to talk with Tmai, what would you say to them?  If you have a plan, you can focus your efforts at learning, yes?”

“We got to get Pep and get back home.  He had me, ya know?  Had me feelin’ like, maybe this could be exciting.  Kinda fun?  But I think…  Maybe it’s somethin’ in the air.  Y’all are going loco, and it’s too sad to watch.  Besides, maybe I’m goin’ loco too, and I jus’ can’t tell from inside my head.”

“You’re not crazy, Shamar, and I am not crazy either.  Just, I like to think understandably, alarmed and upset.”  She leaned back and sighed.  “I do think it would be crazy to wait up for Pep.  He’s younger than you and I, and stronger than all of us.  If he wants to run free and die, how could we possibly stop him?”

A muffled voice cried out from the table, and then Scuzz doubled back in the position of a howling wolf.  “BOTTOM of a GROTTO!,” she sang.

Eliza and Shammy leaned back in shock, and the wolf woman continued, doing something like a butoh dance as she sang.  “She’d rise up if there was anything to rise for, Frogs eat the flies up cuz they all know the score.  No, no, no!  Livin’ at the bottom of a grotto.”

Eliza scooted her chair further from the table, outside the blast radius of the belted vocals, a palm over her own mouth as she contemplated the scene.  Shammy covered his ears, fingertips not quite touching atop his bald head.  Neither of them could think of anything to say, and even if they could, it would not be heard.

Scuzz sang on.

 

Jdurtozh led Snar directly to the bgrudjh of the enclave, but on approach had to hang back, not interrupt his business.  They were in another area with a milky skylight high above, this time joined by powerful artificial lights behind and between hanging sheets of exotic fabrics that divided the space.  Vinudians milled about, pursuing idle pleasures, while the bgrudjh was on a mat used for sparring, facing off against a beefy opponent.  They were both physically imposing, though Snar could visually diagnose a half dozen health issues in High Jdibitong, and the boss man’s rival had a significant advantage of youth.

Snar had been to Vinudh Orn to perfect their language skills by immersion, and learn cultural information that could not be communicated by tutelage alone.  There was a romanticization of male strength that suffused their society at every level, and bearing witness to that was a world away from reading it on a screen.  On the homeworld, that skewed the gender representation in positions of authority and prestige, and was depicted in fiction aspirationally.  Almost every story was about a man finding his strength, and defeating enemies through brute force.

It seemed to Snar that in a remote enclave, surrounded by burly natives, just one alien race among many, fear and isolation could exacerbate this cultural fault.  Here was a display of brute authority.  Jdibitong maintained his highness with an iron fist.  This was a stark contrast to Ainavians, who lacked the strength to make much use of a fist in combat.

The boxing was difficult for Snar to watch.  Their client could sustain injury, making more work for them.  Vinudian anatomy was just weird to behold in fast motion, a fist coming out of the centerline of the body by necessity used differently from a left and right hook.  Lastly, his imperious energy evoked the fallen beastmaster they had left to die on Earth.  The men were a similar size, thick and large, at least a head taller than an Ainavian.  Muscles rippled around heavy bones, flesh slapped flesh.  Jdibitong hit his opponent like a ton of bricks.

To his credit, the younger Vinudian didn’t go down quickly.  He kept up his failing defense, even as welts rose everywhere the blows rained on him.  A dolled-up lady at the sideline winced at the display.  Snar knew that she was likely not a mate, just a class of assistant that also provided sexual services – a thaydhing.  Was she feeling empathy for his pain, or annoyance she’d have to tend him after the beatdown?

Jdurtozh asked, “Have you seen this before?”

Snar said, “Only in shows.  Is it every day here?”

“Not every day, but pretty often.”

“I suppose if it was every day, the bgrudjh would have visible palsies.”

“Shakes?”

“That is one way they can be identified.”

“What do you think of it all?  I can hardly imagine.”

“I learned about your culture on your homeworld.  It’s all coming back to me now.”

“I’ve never seen Vinudh Orn in person.  I’m jealous.”

“It beats Erbin 2.  But at least there are no food shortages here.”

“Yeah, I heard it costs five hundred credits for a tog leg there.”

The young man staggered to a knee then collapsed.  His thaydhing came to collect him while Jdibitong waved his fists around in triumph.  A few friends or family members cheered from the side and he smiled in the Vinudian way.  As he stepped away from the wreckage of his foe, he noticed Jdurtozh and waved her over.  Snar took advantage of the ambiguity to hang back, intimidated, but soon they were waved in as well.

The bgrudjh said, “Welcome, Dr. Snar.  Unfortunately, at this time I know you far better than you know me.  We will have to remedy that.”

“You know me, High Djibitong?”

“I personally selected you to come here.  You’re the only Ainavian to have successfully performed a splizectomy on a Vinudian.  That caught my attention.  I will only accept the very best for my family.”

Snar knew Vinudians were terrible at reading two-eyed expressions and took advantage to flick their eyelids in annoyance.  “I’m certain several of my pod could have done the same, but the splizorg is usually best left intact, so there was a shortage of opportunity.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, especially to a person who has already purchased you.  Splizectomy is the most common Vinudian metaphor for a near-impossible task.”  Jdibitong’s forward eye constricted and lifted imperiously.  Snar could read Vinudian expressions just fine.

“Yes sir.  And do pardon me, if you may, but I just want to clarify that you purchased my services, not my person, yes?”

“Of course.  But what are we, if not the things we do?  Forgive my imprecise expression.”

“Yes sir,” Snar said again, “I do.”  Best not to press the other issue at the moment.  Snar was still stiff and sore from the recent creation of extensive scar tissue in their body.  “Is there anything you’d like me to do before I see my quarters?”

A susurration of vibrating ventral abdominal ribs arose nearby, an expression somewhere between mirth and generalized excitement.  It was nearly matched in volume by an Earthling voice.  Snar only recognized it as Earthling because Scuzz and Pep had played music on the ship, which involved strange ululations and dramatic tonal shifts not typical of their speech.  Jdurtozh and her bgrudjh both looked that way, and Snar followed with their eyes, in dread.  What now?

“Dimigh, Bgrodozh, what do you have there?”

The young Vinudian merrymakers looked up in mild surprise at his attention.  Dimigh said, “An alien is singing downstairs!  It is a savage sound, like a she-tog in heat!  You must see this.”

“There is video as well?”  Jdibitong waved his computer at them and they sent it to him.  He held it so Jdurtozh and Snar could see – Scuzz on a table, doing a miserable-looking floor dance and belting out her strange song.

Jdurtozh said, “We brought them in here.  They came with the doctor.”

Jdibitong asked, “These are your companions?”

“No.  Some uncontacted stowaways on my escort’s ship.  The captain is coming back for them soon, I think.”  Snar was disturbed by the effect Scuzz had on the Vinudians.  As good as their read of Vinudian expression was, this was hard to pin down.  It wasn’t lust, was it?  It couldn’t be.  Not from both males and females, and not for a species so anatomically different from their own.

“That will simply not do,” said the bgrudjh, his voice a deep purr.  “Jdurtozh, bring this animal to me.”

“It might not want to come here, sir.”  She pursed her mouth.

“Then bring men.”

“Yes sir.”

The merrymakers vibrated in excitement again.  They could see the creature in person!  As Jdurtozh gathered some tough guys from Jdibitong’s entourage, Snar tried to get his attention.

“Aliens, sir, not animals.  They’re intelligent beings, after a fashion.”

“Uncontacted aliens are beasts, and accorded only the rights of such by Interstellar Law.  You said yourself that you do not own them, so in my building, they belong to me.”

If Snar wasn’t so shocked, they might have come up with a way to talk him out of it, but all they could do is mutter and wriggle their hands in confusion.  In a bare moment, Jdurtozh and her men were gone.

The bgrudjh looked them over with affected magnanimity.  “Would you like to see your quarters now?  You seem like you could use some rest.”

 

Eliza’s chair was all the way back to the wall, arms over her head – one at the ears, one over her eyes.  It wasn’t a flawless prophylactic against the Scuzz that filled the small room, but it would have to do.  For his part, Shammy had given up talking to the weird little woman, and come around to get Eliza’s attention.

“Eliza!  Are you OK in there?”

“This is what the children call ‘cringe.’  I’m cringing!”

“You’re what?”

Scuzz sang an operatic sotto voce, “You’re going to be a good little girl, wrapped in lilies and lace; You’re going to be a good little girl, set right in your place!”  She had moved on from Bottom of a Grotto, working through the whole B-side of her debut album.

Eliza said, “Maybe we should wait in that little lobby back there!”

“Do what now?”

“Leave her!”

“We can’t do that!”

The door to the room opened and Scuzz, who had been doubled back at the knees like a lurid pose from Flashdance, lunged upright, pointing accusing fingers at the Vinudians there.  “Your love is a dry well in a drought, Got me livin in hell no way out!”

For a moment the only sound in the world was Scuzz, singing on, while the Earthlings and Vinudians in attendance stared at each other in confusion.  Then the Vinudians, captivated by her performance, erupted in strange behaviors.  They slung their rear arms over a shoulder and wagged both hands at her, front arms rhythmically waving in a serpentine.  Their bellies rattled and they emitted strange noises from more than one part of the body.  It was reminiscent of defensive insect behavior, but there was a deference in body language that suggested otherwise.  Applause?

Jdurtozh stepped forward and offered her a hand.  An invitation?

It broke Scuzz out of her mental train, gave her a new reality to consider.  Alien fans?  Could it be?  She shot a questioning look to Shammy, who had nothing for her.  But Eliza said, “Don’t.”

Jdurtozh didn’t wait for her to take the hand, gripping Scuzz by her languid pointy fingers and gently but firmly dragging her off the table.

Eliza and Shammy jumped up and fell in behind the aliens as they abducted Scuzz.  Shammy didn’t want to be separated and Eliza didn’t want to be left alone – as much as she didn’t want to see what these creatures had in mind for the womanchild.

“Hold up now!  Hold on!”  Shammy was sounding Texan as he tried in vain to get some kind of attention from the Vinudians.

“they’re ignoring you on purpose,” Eliza mouthed breathlessly.  The ramifications were disturbing.  They didn’t regard Shammy as worth listening to – they weren’t acknowledging his personhood.  What else could happen, in light of that?

At least they managed to squeak in the door of the elevator behind them, and the rapture was complete.

 

The doctor’s quarters were behind a reasonably well-appointed clinic for the practice of Vinudian medicine, their place of rest forever adjoined to their place of work.  While the clinic was more of the ambers greens and earth tones favored by Vinudians, some effort had been made to tailor the quarters to an Ainavian sensibility – unsuccessfully.  Yes, Ainavians favored cool tones in interior design, but there were subtleties to the art.  The inexpert application of hue looked like a children’s pod mashed up with a funeral chamber.  At least the furnishings were generically neutral, and new enough to be firm.

Snar set the light to dim and wriggled out of Scuzz’s loan garments, like they’d wriggled out of saving her from alien exploitation.  They flexed their hands angrily, let them drop, and moved into the shower.  Don’t think about it.  The Earthling was an attention-seeker.  Maybe they’d like the chance to entertain…  Of course not, but don’t let yourself think about it.  Water coursed over their body, their hands traced over keloids and taut stretches of skin revealing deeper scars. Their mind faded into synesthetic daydreams, imagining the contents of their head as a carpet of blue and black fingers waving beneath golden bubbles.

They washed.  At first it was relaxing, but then an unnamed itch crept up from their feet, overtook their head, made their eyes ripple.  They pawed at skin angrily, before giving up, flattening their head more violently at the side of the shower.  Snar blacked out for a short moment, then caught theirself from slipping as they awoke, their body feeling like a coruscation of winged mesofauna.

Out of the shower.  Snar went out into the clinic and found a chemical synthesis station.  There had to be something that could balance this effect.  They remembered med school, the kids learning how to make drug cocktails, messing with their minds just to see how far they could go and still cure themselves with personalized antidotes.  Dass and Iehs had, memorably, reduced themselves to hallucinatory catatonia for days, only to bounce back in style when their lignibs had broken down enough yaratine to convert the rest of the cocktail into subamide.  Ingenious, but dangerous.  Dica and Ekat tried a similar experiment and were shipped out to a waste processing pod, perma-fried.

Life is what you make it.  Snar felt their own nudity for a moment, reclaimed their Ainavian identity in this way, and began to synthesize a neural palliative.

 

Scuzz was brought into a strange new place.  Alien harem vibes, decorwise, but she wasn’t a wife.  She was a caged songbird.  The rough-hewn creatures introduced her to their grand poobah, then set her in the middle of some kind of small arena.  They exhorted her to sing, with strange imitations of Bottom of a Grotto.  Well, she always knew she was good, but this good?  What were they getting out of it?

When you’re a performer, you learn how to turn it on.  You might not be in the mood when the set begins, but when you play your music, you are transported to that emotional space where you had originally composed it – and if you are fortunate, the audience is transported in kind.  But who ever put on a concert like this?  She did like to perform her songs in the order they appeared on the album.  The album itself had a structure, which most of the songs had been altered to fit.  Make something out of something out of something.

She quickly learned to recognize the sounds and movements of Vinudian excitement and play to it, emphasizing the parts of songs they liked the most.  But she also recognized that the big man in charge would like more personalized attention, and she had to avoid encouraging this in any way.  It was a tightrope act.  Scuzz was so focused she lost track of Eliza and Shammy completely.

The Vinudians sloshed around strange fluids and intermittently blasted themselves in the eyeballs with multi-colored lasers, for psychotropic effect.  They danced and trilled and occasionally checked in with each other – light touches at full extension of the arm, more frequent the more excited they became.

Shammy and Eliza were flanked by the big boys.  What did it mean?  They must have understood Shammy meant to free her, and this was their way of keeping it from happening.  It definitely worked.  Both of them were too intimidated to move, pondering aloud their fate with faltering voices.

Eliza said, “At least it doesn’t seem they intend to eat us.”

Shammy asked, “If it’s not too forward, you mind if I put an arm around you?  I just…”

She looked at his face, searching, but his eyes were transfixed on the bizarre scene below.  Nonetheless, she got where he was coming from.  They had been among the few single people in Pep’s Michael Foxtrot team, devoting their lives to work, and the loneliness of that was only hitting now that the possibility loomed that they’d die unloved.

He wasn’t a beauty by conventional standards, and neither was she, but he was a character, and a charming one.  She kissed his cheek and wrapped her arms around him.

That got his attention, and he did stretch an arm around her.  “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Pay attention to her song and dance, my friend.  We might have to justify our presence to these savages, in the manner to which they’re becoming accustomed.”

“We can’t do all that.  She’s Jennifer Beals on tha floor.  I don’t know about you, but my moves are pure Barney.”

“Then be it resolved, we shall not perish alone.”

“Thank you kindly, Eliza.”

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At time of this post I don’t have enough left for another post of similar length.  I hope I don’t hafta slow down or drop it altogether…

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