Page 45

Seeker

I am uneasy.

That last encounter makes me want to leave.

Not just Space Con but the town of Rellows entirely.

But that may be an overreaction, an emotional response to feeling threatened.

I watch warily as we proceed through various stalls until it’s time to make our way to the small red-and-white-striped pavilion tent, where rows of folding chairs have been set up in front of a lectern.

Jen leads us to seats near the back, offering us plenty of space from everyone else.

It doesn’t look as if it will be a full house with so many other entertainments on offer.

The scientist is dressed simply and wears thick-framed lenses for viewing assistance.

Jen smiles at me, seeming happy to be here, though I don’t know how interested she is in this topic.

I’m frankly curious how close humans are to working all of these premises out.

“Quantum entanglement,” the lecturer says. “The phenomenon where particles become so deeply linked that the state of one instantly influences the state of another, no matter the distance.”

Among my people, this principle is not just understood, but harnessed, interwoven into the fabric of our daily lives.

It’s even used by artists to perform collaborations on the same piece.

That is how my gestational parent, Oona, met the rest of their bond partners.

Ironically, science on my homeworld is mostly used to improve and extend artistic endeavors.

Those who lean in that direction are considered technicians who lack a certain creative impetus, born for drudgery, not inspiration. Unfortunately, I am one of those souls.

I would have tried for Oona’s sake. If I could return.

But it would never have given me fulfillment or joy.

When I create something new, when I invent something unique or improve technology that already exists, that’s when I feel most myself.

I imagine that my happiness approaches that of the most creative soul.

Surely, there is no right and wrong in these matters, only matters of personal satisfaction.

I listen as the scientist expounds on her ideas.

The talk is interesting, but she doesn’t have the details right.

It would take a hundred years for 97-B to remedy the misapprehensions, correct their errors, and reconfigure a few faulty theories.

I consider speaking up, then swiftly discard the notion.

I won’t meddle. I also don’t wish to draw attention to myself, not after what happened earlier.

If a person in a “costume” like this one reveals detailed and specific information about quantum entanglement, it will cause complications.

We attend a few more panels and survey the goods available for purchase.

Jen’s phone beeps and she moves away to take a call.

I hear her say Mom in a tone that sounds distressed, though I’m not trying to eavesdrop.

When I turn, I realize that the human who wanted to take my photo earlier is standing nearby, watching me.

Then he’s joined by the one from the museum.

They speak too softly for me to hear, and then the museum human shows the other one his phone.

That cannot portend anything good.

When Jen returns, she seems annoyed. I decide not to mention that moment. If something more occurs, I will discuss it with her then. But I remain uneasy for the rest of our time, constantly on alert for undue attention. For the first time, I don’t feel entirely safe.

“Should we head out?” she asks eventually.

It’s late afternoon, and I’m ready to go. “Please. I’m finding the crowds a little overwhelming.” I can admit that much.

She drives us to Stellar Lanes, a bowling alley with neon lights flashing outside. I have watched a few examples of the pastime, but I am not confident I can properly maneuver the specialized equipment. The others may suggest that I remove my costume if I can’t participate while wearing it.

Inside, I hear the clatter of pins being knocked over.

Monitors glow overhead, displaying numbers that track the participants’ progress.

I recognize certain smells from other establishments.

Pizza. Beer. There are layers, perfume and sweat, the smell of old oil used for cooking starched vegetables.

The place isn’t busy. Only our group and one other, a handful of older human males in matching shirts.

Jen queues up to get our equipment, sliding me a concerned look.

“When we first talked about doing a bowling night online, I didn’t know…”

That I’m not human. Even if I had the tech camo, it wouldn’t allow me to use their specialized sporting gear. Normally, I’m content as long as I’m with Jen, but right now, I want nothing more than to leave.

Our lane lights up, casting a soft, inviting glow over the polished wood. Poppy goes first, throwing the ball with a flamboyance that sends it spinning wildly down the lane. It’s a gutter ball, but she laughs and does a little twirl, then flutters her hands.

“That’s right, shake it off,” Jen says in a comforting tone.

Tad takes a more focused approach, eyes narrowed in concentration before releasing the heavy sphere. It connects with the pins with impressive and unexpected force, leaving only a few standing—a commendable effort. The others all take a turn, but I decide to sit out.

“I think I injured myself earlier,” I say.

“Is your shoulder still hurting?” Jen asks without missing a beat.

“Damn, go easy on him,” Poppy jokes.

Jen changes colors. “Oh my God, I didn’t—”

“It’s my go,” Jaz cuts in.

As the game progresses, I observe their styles.

Poppy is all verve while Tad tries for force.

Jaz is delicate and careful while Ravik plays with stoic determination, his form almost perfect, but his extensors aren’t balanced for the equipment.

Then there’s Jen. Each of her turns is marked by an easy confidence, a natural affinity for the sport that soon becomes apparent.

Strike after strike, her score climbs until it’s clear she’s outmatched us all.

“Holy shit,” Poppy says. “When we talked about this online, I thought you were joking, but you are weirdly good at bowling.”

Jen grins. “Sadly, it doesn’t pay the bills.”

“I think you could go pro,” Tad says.

“Pass. I’d rather keep studying the stars.”

“Don’t you teach at community college?” Tad asks.

I don’t miss the way Jen winces, but her voice is even when she says, “That’s what pays the bills. But I’ve always wanted to work at an observatory.”

“Dreams are important.” Poppy shoots Tad a look and he hunches his shoulders.

“Sorry, Jen. I can be a bit thoughtless.”

Poppy shakes her head, but she pats his shoulder as she gets up. “It’s okay. Just think before you talk next time.”

Tad nods. “Understood.”

“Bathroom break, be right back.” Poppy heads toward the far end of the facility.

Tad gets up immediately. “Likewise.”

Jen decides to go too, hurrying after the other humans. That leaves me alone with Ravik and Jaz. I seize the opportunity, speaking to them in subharmonic frequency. “Have you thought any more about telling them the truth?”

“I’m still in favor,” Jaz replies.

“Ravik?”

They pause, staring in the direction our three friends have gone. “I fear that this is unwise. And it seems unnecessary. But…it would be nice to be known.”

Jaz pauses, glancing between us. “I didn’t expect to come to a consensus tonight. But if they know—and we can trust them—they will help protect us.”

“That’s an unsettling proposition,” Ravik mutters. We sit quietly for a few moments while they weigh the decision.

“They’re coming back,” I point out.

“Yes. Tell them,” Ravik finally replies.

As Tad, Poppy, and Jen reach the steps, Jaz says, “Let’s not play another round. There’s something we need to discuss. Privately.”

“Everything okay?” Poppy asks.

Jaz nods slowly, but her gaze doesn’t waver. “This isn’t the place for a serious conversation.” She flicks a look at the men in their coordinated shirts and another group of young humans who have entered the premises as our match concluded.

“Should we head to my campsite?” Tad suggests, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the RV park that skirts the edge of town. “People will stay at the fairgrounds for hours yet. It’ll be as private as it gets during Space Con.”

“Perfect,” Jaz says.

Jen drives me with Poppy in the back seat while the others go with Tad. I wonder if this is really a good idea. I hope my trust is warranted. I’m not worried about Jen; she already knows everything. But telling Poppy and Tad—that’s the risk.

Once we reach the RV park, Jen stows her car behind Tad’s, and then he builds a fire while the rest of us get comfortable around the firepit.

The embers of the campfire crackle and pop, casting a warm glow over our small assembly.

As he predicted, the place is practically deserted, no lights on in any of the campers or vans nearby.

“Okay.” Tad takes a seat, folding his hands in his lap. “What’s up?”

Jaz takes a deep breath, scanning the three humans. I sense Ravik’s tension beside me; it mirrors my own. We stand upon a precipice, one I never would’ve imagined. Telling others who I am? No. I never intended to do that. But I’ve done it once already, and it made me feel so much less alone.

“You might not believe us at first, but…right now, Seeker, Ravik, and I…We’re not dressed in costumes. This is how we look.”

Poppy tilts her head, skepticism lining her features. Jen’s hand finds mine, an attempt to comfort me, perhaps. The contact grounds me, no matter how Poppy and Tad react.

Then Tad laughs. “Good one! You had me going.”

“I’m serious. We’re not…from here,” Jaz continues. “Not from this country or this planet. We’re extraterrestrials.”

Tad’s mouth drops open, disbelief etched across his face. “Tell another one.”

Poppy’s skepticism morphs into awe, her gaze flitting between the three of us as if seeing us for the first time. “I did think your cosplay was a little too real. Do you mind…”

She reaches toward Ravik, who tenses but doesn’t recoil. “Go ahead if you need proof.”

“Oh my God,” Poppy breathes. “That’s your skin. I know how grease paint and body paint feel and you’re not using any.”

“Obviously,” Ravik replies.

“You’re doing this too?” Tad frowns at Poppy. “It’s not cool to mess with people!”

“I already knew,” Jen says then. Her smile hasn’t shifted. “About Seeker.”

The group falls silent, contemplation hanging heavy in the smoke-scented air. In their eyes, I see the gears turning, reassessing every interaction, every shared moment under the light of this new starlit truth.

Poppy can’t stop staring at Ravik. “I have so many fucking questions. I don’t even know where to start.”

“We’re still us,” Jaz says softly. “Still your friends. That hasn’t changed.”

Tad hasn’t moved. Nor does he seem as openly delighted as Poppy is.

“That remains to be seen,” Tad says in a tone quite unlike his customary cheer. “You’ve run beneath the radar, fooled us so far. Why are you telling us now?”