Windows
Kim Antieau
Published by Green Snake Publishing at Smashwords
Copyright (c) 2012 by Kim Antieau
Originally appeared in Pulphouse #4, Summer 1989
Cover image copyright © by Dmitry Sosenushkin| Dreamstime.com
All rights reserved. Used by permission.
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Windows
Kim Antieau
“I DREAMED I was a child in the desert again,” Beth said as she stepped out of our temp building into the jungle morning. She stroked a leafy vine that had grown across the door during the night. “I sat alone in that compound listening to sand rub away the walls, waiting for the life-support systems to fail.”
She pushed her white blonde hair away from her face and looked around. Light came through the overhead trees and spotted her eyes, changing them from blue to sand. When she turned to face me, her eyes became blue again.
“I love this planet, Castillo,” she said, walking to the Rover where I sat eating breakfast.
I laughed. “That’s obvious. We’ve only been on Perez four weeks and everyone except you wants to leave. Every time the other survey crews call in, they complain about the heat, the humidity, the jungle, everything.”
She smiled. “There’s something alive everywhere I turn—touching me. I never feel alone here, until I come back to camp, of course,” she said. “Otto and Marje are so...solitary. I’m glad no one but me is allowed near the Perans until I’ve finished with the translator; they might infect the Perans with their aloneness.”
“They’re just company people, love,” I said, pushing my leftovers into my pack. “They want to finish the survey, find some little trinkets or precious metals to earn a bonus and then be off to the next job.”
“Preferably someplace where things do not grow,” Otto said. He kicked the vine as he came out of the building. He rubbed his eyes and slapped away an insect. “I’d kill for some insect spray.”
“Against regs,” Beth said.
Otto rolled his eyes. “Oh really, Beth? I’m glad you’re here to interpret company rules for me. I thought Castillo was the one who was supposed to be well-versed in that department, so he can protect your precious sloths. Speaking of sloths, how are you coming with the translator? If we find anything we might want to import from this dump, we’ll have to ask their permission, remember?”
“I’m working on it,” Beth said. She stepped back and leaned against me.
Otto picked up my pack and rummaged through it until he found the food.
“I thought you were such a genius at language,” he said. “Isn’t that what you did for a year sitting all alone on that planet? Study languages? So how come you haven’t had any luck with the sloths?”
“They aren’t sloths,” Beth said.
“Maybe you can’t figure out their language because there isn’t one. If they’re just dumb animals we won’t need to wait for their permission. We can take whatever we want—if we ever find anything.” Otto pulled the tab on a can of soup and stared at Beth as he gulped it. “What’s that green stuff on your arm?”
Beth quickly wiped her arm and put it behind her back.
“Pretty soon you’re going to look just like them,” he said.
“You disgust me,” Beth said. “I’ll meet you later, Castillo.”
She hurried into the jungle.
I shook my head. “Why don’t you leave her alone?”
“She is with them all the time,” he said. “Is that normal? I never thought she was that together anyway, if you know what I mean, but now. Did you notice how she lets them touch her—all over?”
“I thought you didn’t like the riverforest,” I said. “Been doing a little spying?”