The visit ended soon after, much to Helix’s relief.
Every moment that Qalu’s mothers lingered, he expected one of them to shout, “Imposter!” And accuse of him of being an AI pretending to be Tiralan. Which was accurate.
“You did amazingly well,” Qalu said.
“I lack sufficient data to determine whether that appraisal is correct, so I must trust your assessment.”
“They liked you.”
“Truly?” Until awakening in this strange situation, he hadn’t devoted processing resources to analyzing such subjective considerations. Indeed, it had never occurred to him to question if he was “likable.” Instead, all his internal imperatives clamored for him to be productive and useful.
“They would have been difficult if they didn’t.”
“In what respect?”
Her head tendrils fluttered. “In every respect. Since you did so well, would you like to go out today?”
“Where would we go?”
“Anywhere you wish, though I thought we could visit the museum so you could experience the art in person.”
“Would that change my perception?”
“It might. Sometimes images don’t capture the feeling of a work.”
“Then I’m…” He hesitated, sorting through various emotions until he found the one that seemed correct. “Curious if that’s the case for me. I would enjoy the opportunity to verify if my visual receptors—”
“Eyes,” she cut in gently.
“If my eyes detect any differences.”
“Then let’s go.”
She led the way out of the habitat and input a code into her wrist unit. Shortly after, a vehicle arrived, a slim conveyance that gleamed silver in the rays from the twin suns. The oblong pod was clean and sleek inside, shaped to hold two passengers. Once, he would have been able to scan the unit to determine its efficiency, fuel consumption, and identify the power source. Now, he asked.
“An interesting transport. Is it yours?”
She moved her forelimbs in a negating gesture. “It’s a public vehicle, solar-powered. I requested a two-person shuttle and programmed our destination. This way.” She stepped inside and settled into the curved seat, beckoning to him.
Helix claimed the spot nearby. The space wasn’t large enough for him to maintain perfect distance, and at first he held himself rigid. Then the shuttle glided away and the motion swayed him so his limb brushed hers. It was still a shock, but the glancing touch didn’t create a riot of discomfort at least. Quietly, he sorted through the sensory input: warmth, softness, and the faint fragrance of her skin. There was a startling familiarity in breathing the same air in such close quarters.
This was his first journey since his existence shifted dramatically, and he could feel the movement as he couldn’t before, minute shifts in altitude and pressure that quickened his insides. As they moved, the ventilation system purred to life, filling the space with a refreshing scent. It settled the unease in his interior immediately.
“This is a smart pod. It detected your motion sickness and released an olfactory treatment. Do you feel better?”
After a few deep breaths, the sensation faded entirely. “Yes. Thank you.”
For a while, he simply enjoyed the sensation of flying, and when he shifted, the side of the pod brightened to display the view below, as if it sensed his desire to see. Tiralan was a striking world—he might even use the word beautiful if he was sure of its application—with fields of flowers and bright swaths of color from the elegant buildings that dotted the landscape. On Tiralan, there was no urban sprawl like on Barath. Instead, the settlements were more spread out, integrated without overwhelming the natural world.
Soon, the pod set down outside an ivory dome with narrow windows cut with razor-sharp precision, glimmering with slivers of light. “This is the Museum of Modern Art.”
Qalu alighted with fluid grace and turned to offer Helix aid in doing the same. But she didn’t touch him, didn’t grasp or pull, simply waited, allowing him to make the decision. He took a breath and let his mind settle, then he put his forelimb in hers, waiting for that unpleasant shock. There was a touch of strangeness, but not like before. Perhaps it came from making the decision himself or from mental readiness. As soon as he had his balance, she let go.
A frisson spiraled through him, but he lacked the experience to identify the emotion, though it was bright and sharp–all edges and slicing angles. “I’m looking forward to this,” he said, setting aside his unfamiliar feelings.
“To seeing the art or simply being out of the habitat?”
Helix hesitated, wondering if it would be offensive to say it was both. He was unaccustomed to being so limited, so chained in his perceptions. Though this new form had interesting features, it also lacked many of his former capabilities. His ambivalence must have shown because Qalu made an amused noise.
“You’re allowed to enjoy being out,” she added.
“I don’t wish to seem ungrateful.”
“No fear of that. I don’t expect gratitude from you. Or anything else for that matter. Whatever you feel, whenever you feel it, that’s acceptable and valid. If you were angry with me, I would understand that as well.”
In truth, he had been at first. He held quiet as she led the way, tapping her wrist unit against a screen near the entrance. “Was that currency?”
“No, we have a robust arts program on Tiralan, and all citizens receive free access to admire our greatest collective works. This is a membership program that tracks how often you use such facilities.”
“For what purpose?”
Interestingly enough, from the flutter of her head tendrils, Qalu didn’t seem certain. “Perhaps to gauge the popularity? If modern art attracts more attention than classical works?”
“An intriguing theory. I would be interested in seeing the comparative data.”
“I’m not sure it’s disbursed,” Qalu said.
“That is disappointing. More information is always preferable.”
“Never mind that. Let’s start here. Do you want to listen to the narrator describe the history and inspiration for each piece?”
Helix stood in front of a three-dimensional painting, and somehow the colors seemed to shift and slide, coming toward him as if the frame were full of water. The spectrum was cool but somehow not at all soothing, more urgent and a touch disturbing. His insides tightened as he studied the piece. He had no notion how he was supposed to be reacting, whether there was a correct response to what he perceived. Clearly clarification was required.
“Yes, please.”
“Put this on.” Qalu indicated a clunky wrist unit, not sleek and elegant like hers.
He complied and she carefully activated it without touching him. Suddenly, he had a stranger’s voice in his head. “This work is called Feral Ocean. The artist was inspired by marine life and created a constantly changing piece. Many viewers feel a sense of calm—”
He turned it off by tapping the unit. “I have a question.”
“What is it?”
“If my impressions don’t match what I’m being told, does that mean I am incorrect?”
“Definitely not. Why, do your thoughts differ?”
“I agree about the color shifts, but the painting disturbs me. I don’t feel quiet at all when I look at it.” In fact, the longer he stared, the more he gained a sense of menace, as if something lurked deep beneath the churning colors, a dreadful threat.
“Then why don’t you skip the narration? There’s no right and wrong in art. Even if your opinions differ, the painting exists apart from the creator’s intentions.”
“Is that true?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then no matter what I intend when I craft a piece, the audience brings their own bias and experience. There can be no correct response. Art is entirely subjective.”
“I think that’s a reasonable statement, though there are empirical criteria for evaluation, such as whether the technique is skilled.”
“You’ve given me much to consider.” Thoughtful, Helix moved to the next piece.
This one affected him differently than the chaotic one. First, the colors were static, and though they were all earthy, reminding him of the Barrens on Barath, they were also somehow welcoming. He couldn’t tell what the picture was meant to represent, but the flow of color opened a tightness in his chest. The longer he looked, the better he felt.
“What do you think?” she asked eventually.
“It’s very warm. Restful. Beautiful,” he dared to add, because now he felt sure about the word, about the way beauty made him feel. There was softness and warmth, a sweetness that made it easier to breathe.
Just then, he glanced at Qalu and realized the tones of her skin were echoed in the painting he found comforting and lovely. Bronze, here and there, glazed and gleaming. Her eyes shone in that hue, and if he searched hard, he could find shadows of her in the picture as well: head tendrils in those lines, the curve of her face near the bottom.
What does this mean?
“I like this piece as well,” Qalu said. “And I’ve always preferred not to hear how I’m supposed to feel about a particular work. The discrepancy only makes me feel inadequate.”
She let Helix set their pace, and he moved with precision from piece to piece, lingering at some, moving on quickly from others. Soon, she discovered he preferred warm tones to cool ones, and he liked concrete depictions as opposed to abstract art. Helix seemed enthralled, entirely focused on each piece.
Eventually he said, “It’s true.”
“What is?”
“A faithful reproduction does not carry the same impact as experiencing the original work with my own…eyes.”
Before she could reply, someone called, “Qalu, is that you? It’s been ages! How are you? Still working with those replicas?”
Not him. Please, not him.
She turned to offer a respectful greeting and also to confirm that it was him. Her foremother had thought she and Gravitch might make a good match, given that he was part of the Scientific Coalition. Qalu had met him a few times and found his personality absolutely grating. She hadn’t spoken to him since their last encounter and had ignored all his messages. Yet he was hurrying toward her with every evidence of pleasure, as if he didn’t realize she had cut their connection on purpose. He was small for a Tiralan with a wiry build and skin that radiated from pale green to a deep moss on his scales.
“They’re not replicas,” she said icily. “They are biosynthetic—”
“Never mind that. You’re not here for work.”
I am, actually. That was how Gravitch had been each time they met, talking over her, interrupting her, and minimizing her achievements. He was truly the worst prospect Inatol had ever offered, but then, Qalu had rejected five perfectly nice femmes, four gender-neutral prospects, and three male suitors before Gravitch was offered. She took no insult from the suggestion, as Inatol had probably been desperate by then.
With Helix by her side, she would not suffer such awkwardness any longer.
“Let me introduce my companion, Helix.” She wished she could link their limbs together to make the point visually, but she had promised to respect his boundaries, so she didn’t touch him. “Helix, this is Gravitch.”
“Who’s this?” Gravitch cut in.
She saw him register Helix’s sheer physical perfection, and she took secret pride in how well she’d designed the prototype. Gravitch was seedy in comparison, which wouldn’t matter if he had an agreeable disposition. She had no idea what Inatol had been thinking when she selected him for a potential match. It must have been their mutual interest in science, but even then, Gravitch was more of an administrator, secretly looking down on those who preferred research. If she recalled correctly, he enjoyed doing the assessments for the science coalition, deciding who deserved their annual stipend.
“I cohabitate with Qalu,” Helix replied unexpectedly. “This morning, I met with her mothers. They all like me very much.”
That…is perfect. Delightfully, it was all scrupulously true and those revelations combined to give a certain impression. She could almost imagine that Helix had been designed with a knack for chicanery. Gravitch glanced between them, visibly nonplused.
“Congratulations seem to be in order.” Those words rang with lukewarm sincerity.
Helix scrutinized the scientist, then turned to her. “Is he a person of importance?”
“Just an acquaintance.” She made sure her tone was deliciously dismissive.
“I see. Then if your conversation is concluded, I would like to tour the next level.”
He was already moving away, brusque to the point of rudeness, and Qalu gloried in it.
She fluttered her head tendrils in the barest hint of respect, then she hurried after Helix, who was already ascending the ramp to the next exhibit. “Are you in a rush? We have plenty of time before the museum closes.”
“No.” The word came out strong and flat.
Qalu paused; she’d never heard that tone before. “Is something wrong?”
“I did not like him.”
Startled, she asked, “Why?”
Helix stopped in the center of the ramp, seeming to consider the question. “I have no data to support my antipathy. It is…an emotional response.”
“But you must have some notion what triggered it.”
“He disrespected you. He interrupted you and misrepresented your work,” he finally said.
“Oh.” She quivered a little over the perceptive nature of his response. It was so good to be seen and known. The longer she spent with Helix, the more she appreciated him. “That’s precisely why I dislike him,” she added.
“How are you acquainted?” He set off again, more slowly this time.
As they climbed, she explained the situation, and Helix let out a sound of pure annoyance. “This is what you meant to avoid by asking me to act as your suitor.”
“Yes. While you’re with me, I won’t have to deal with individuals like Gravitch any longer. I can enjoy the peace and focus on my work.”
“Yet you haven’t worked much since I woke,” he pointed out.
“On the contrary, every moment I spend with you is pertinent.”
Helix stilled then, frozen mid-step, and when he gazed at her, she glimpsed a quiet wound. Did I say something wrong?
“Then staying with me is…work? You do not enjoy my company.”
Qalu felt the sting of that question in her own chest, and too late, she saw what she had implied. That he was all research to her, data to be logged, results to chart. How can I fix this?
“I enjoy spending time with you,” she said quickly. “Currently you’re my favorite person. But it’s also true that your existence informs my work. Which I also happen to love.”
Perhaps I didn’t put that well.
“I am your favorite person,” he repeated—a statement, not a question.
At first, she thought he was questioning the “favorite” part but when she looped the words in her own head, she detected a faint stress on the final word, as if it mattered to him greatly be considered a person. He had been, even before he gained flesh. Yet he seemed to find validation in her assertion.
“You are.”
“Would you say that we’re friends?” he asked.
“Definitely. What do you think?”
“I’m still figuring out what that means. Before, I thought I was close to someone, but I always felt the crushing need to be useful, as if I would be discarded otherwise. I’m not sure how I fit into a world where I receive benefits regardless of my contribution.”
Not for the first time, Qalu wished her touch imparted comfort. “Benefits?”
“You shelter me, feed me, provide for me in all respects. And now, you’ve brought me to observe art for personal inspiration. And yet you ask nothing in return.”
“Your company is valuable,” she said. “So are your thoughts. I enjoy hearing them.”
“I have difficulty adapting to that outlook,” he admitted.
“That you have value outside of any labor provided?”
“Yes.”
“Then…imagine our situations were reversed. Am I worthless if I cannot give you food? If I lacked the resources to continue as we are?”
“Certainly not,” he said at once. “You’re a brilliant person.”
“So are you.”
“Oh,” he said, his voice deep and soft. “I’m…feeling something new.”
“Can you describe the sensation?”
“It’s confusing. But…I’ll try. My chest hurts a little, but not like the pain from before, when I first woke up. It’s something else. I’m happy too. I know how that feels, but there’s more to it. And I want to be…closer to you.”
“Physically or emotionally?”
“Both? I think it’s both.”
At hearing that, Qalu took two steps forward, bringing herself close enough to inhale the scent of his skin. They used the same hygiene products yet they smelled different on him somehow, deeper and richer with hints of spice. “Better?”
“Yes. But it’s not enough. What do I want exactly?” He wasn’t asking to tease her.
Qalu could tell he didn’t know, and she wasn’t sure enough of her hypothesis to speculate aloud, though it seemed as if Helix might be experiencing attraction. The great mothers knew that she was, had been from the beginning, but it was inappropriate to let such feelings flourish. She ought to consider him family, not a potential love interest.
But when he stepped nearer still, she didn’t withdraw. Instead, her head tendrils fluttered up in silent invitation. That was an irrepressible mating overture, and she hoped he didn’t realize as much. Just as she was about to withdraw, his head tendrils quivered to life, and she stilled, scarcely able to believe this was happening.
“Yes?” he whispered.
He’s asking. He doesn’t even understand what he wants to do, but he’s asking.
“Yes,” she said.
Then his head tendrils grazed hers, the only point of contact between them, and pleasure spilled through her, gliding down from her head to the rest of her body. Helix let out a soft sound and his whole body quivered. This was a deeply erogenous zone, much more so than forelimbs, and she stayed quiet as he grew bolder, letting their head tendrils twine together and slide in tender movements.
“It feels so good,” he said, breathless.