Page 51

Seeker

The journey is much faster in a private vehicle.

Jen doesn’t say much along the way, opting to sing along with music she plays in the vehicle from her phone.

The other conveyance made multiple stops, but we only pause once en route to use hygiene facilities and move around.

She gets food, but I have no need. The protein beverage I ingested earlier is still being processed.

Human bodies are remarkably inefficient.

Hours later, as we enter the town limits, Jen gestures. “This is it.”

There is a cheerful green and orange sign that declares “W HERE O REGON B EGINS .” She makes a number of turns, and soon we park in front of a rectangular building, single-story, trimmed in white brick on the bottom. There are two doors on either side.

“It’s a duplex,” she says. “Nancy is my neighbor. She owns the building and I pay rent once a month.”

“I’m familiar with the concept.” I too have paid for lodgings on 97-B, though I never met any of the people who trusted me to occupy their properties.

She hops out and starts unloading our belongings from the back, but before she can pick up a bag, I collect everything since she drove us here safely.

I should contribute as much as I can wherever possible.

I am unsure of the rules regarding cohabitation, but we did manage to share a single room without incident. Her home will likely be larger.

Jen unlocks the front door, which is green. She turns the knob and I follow her across the threshold. The air inside smells of verdant growth mingled with less readily identifiable scents. Comforting smells, however, not unpleasant ones.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Jen says.

Humility in her words, pride in her eyes.

Jen’s home suits her, especially the decor, related to all manner of extraterrestrial entertainments.

The couch is gray and overstuffed, and she has a whole corner dedicated to herbs and houseplants.

Framed movie posters on the walls add color and personality, films such as Queen of Outer Space , Forbidden Planet , Attack of the Crab Monsters , The Man from Planet X , and Devil Girl from Mars .

She follows my gaze to the walls. “I haven’t been able to watch all of those. I love old science fiction but it can be tough to find.”

“I don’t imagine they’re on…” What is the entertainment service I have watched in multiple dwellings?

“Netflix. And nope. Quick walking tour—here’s the kitchen on the right. Laundry closet on the left. Now we proceed into the living room. Through there, two bedrooms—I use one as an office-slash-guest room—and the bathroom is between them.”

I survey the space, which is definitely larger than the motel room. She has curious furnishings, tiered shelves with fabric and ropes attached. I don’t think I’ve seen anything like this before.

“What are those?”

“Oh, cat condos. Their litter boxes are hidden in the box at the bottom.”

That does not explain anything. A condo is a human domicile, I believe. And I know what a cat is. But I doubt that she gains any meaningful income from subletting her residence to domesticated felines.

“Cat condo?”

“They climb on it. It’s a toy they can sleep on or claw up if they feel like it. Otherwise they’ll shred my stuff.”

“I will bear in mind that they can be aggressive.”

“So, what do you think of the place?”

“It’s beautiful,” I say honestly. “The atmosphere suits you.”

A flicker of movement catches my eye. Two feline creatures bound toward me, their tails held high like antennae searching for signals.

This must be Scotty and Spock, Jen’s quadrupedal companions.

One is fairly round, covered in short tangerine and cream fur and with wide yellow eyes.

The other is slender, the shade of a thundercloud with a wise and pointed face, angled eyes so light green that they are practically translucent.

“Meet the boys,” Jen says. “Scotty is ginger. Spock is gray.”

The plump one, Scotty, skids to a halt in front of me and tilts his head, studying me with wide, curious eyes.

Spock, however, exercises more caution, circling around me at a safe distance, his gaze skeptical.

I crouch and offer an extensor tentatively, unsure of the protocol for greeting feline domestic colleagues.

Scotty approaches first, sniffing my fingers before delivering a swift headbutt.

His purr vibrates through the air, a soothing sound.

I rise slowly, not wanting to startle Scotty. “He appears to approve of me.”

“You’ve made a friend,” she agrees.

Spock seems less convinced. He inches closer, then leaps onto the cat furniture with impressive agility.

From his elevated perch, he observes me with a quirk of his whiskers.

Those translucent eyes dare me to take a step closer.

He definitely isn’t interested in deepening our acquaintance at this juncture.

“We’re lucky Spock isn’t hissing and hiding. He’s never thrilled when I go away, even if Nancy checks on them multiple times a day.”

I point at Scotty, who’s weaving around my lower limbs, rubbing himself against me. “Is this normal behavior?”

“Absolutely. He’s claiming you, by the way. You belong to Scotty now, no point in trying to resist.”

Scotty emits a squeaky sound while Spock remains watchful.

Gaining his trust will require patience and strategy, much like navigating the customs here.

As I examine the photos she has framed on a side table, there’s a knock at the door.

Jen answers, revealing a woman with silver-tinged hair and a round face. She’s carrying a square container.

“Welcome home! Just making sure you got in safe. Your mom dropped this off for you earlier today. I said I’d pass it along.”

Jen lets out a breath. “I can’t believe she made you take a casserole.”

“My mom’s not around to pester me. You might miss it one day.” The other human lifts a shoulder, handing over what must be a food item. She turns to me. “I’m Nancy.”

I don’t offer to shake hands since physical contact creates cognitive dissonance. What they detect with tactile senses doesn’t match what their eyes tell them, and it can become a problem. “Nice to meet you. I’m—”

“Tam,” Jen interjects. “He’ll be staying with me for a while. We can amend the lease if you need to. Do you want to raise the rent?”

Nancy shakes her head. “Thanks for telling me, but I doubt it’ll change the utilities that much. How much water can he possibly use?”

I could explain that I don’t bathe as humans do, but that would raise more questions. It seems prudent to let Jen do most of the talking while I observe their interaction. She opts to change the subject rather than continue on that topic.

“How were the boys?” Jen asks.

“No trouble at all.”

“I wish you’d let me pay you for helping—”

“You won’t take a penny when you watch Mr. Snickers,” Nancy cuts in. “I’m going on a cruise next month, so you can repay me then.”

“Sounds like fun. Where are you going?”

The other human seems excited. “I’m flying to Fort Lauderdale and doing a celebrity cruise to the Bahamas. I’ll be gone for around a week.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Jen says with a grin.

I have seen cruises advertised, so I know that they’re discussing an ocean voyage.

But I have nothing to contribute to this conversation, something that happens quite often when I’m with other humans.

Though I can communicate well with Jen and to some degree, the rest of the group chat as well, I struggle with others.

“Thanks. I have a pottery class tonight, so I need to get going. Enjoy the casserole. It seems to be turkey and noodles.”

“Thank you again. Scotty and Spock would be lost without you.”

Nancy hurries out with a final wave. As the door closes behind her, the tight coil of tension within me unwinds.

I’m always conscious of the way things could go wrong, the consequences of not fitting in.

Jen leans back against the door. Her shoulders relax too; I didn’t notice that she might be anxious until just now. I should pay closer attention.

Jen stretches. “Finally. Home sweet home.”

Her phone pings. Jen takes a look and shakes her head. “Holy crap. I set an alert for the Lusk shuttle launch you were interested in.”

“Did something happen?”

In answer, she shows me a short video of a minor explosion. “It didn’t even get off the ground this time.”

“Was anyone injured?”

“Thankfully not.”

Confiding in the others saved me. I might have gotten captured or wounded attempting an impossible task. I’m even more convinced I made the correct choice.

Early evening light filters through the sheer curtains, casting a warm glow over the living room. Scotty paces us, nearly tripping me as he runs in loops around our bodies. “He seems very eager for attention,” I observe.

Jen laughs. “He might be begging for a second dinner.”

She picks Scotty up and he snuggles into her chest, purring with extra-loud vibrato.

I wouldn’t force such intimacy on Spock, who still eyes me warily.

He mews at Jen, who gives him a gentle stroke on the head.

Now he’s purring too, and I remember entirely too well how good it felt when she touched me just so.

“Home isn’t just a place,” she says then. “It’s also where you find refuge.”

In the simplicity of that moment, with the soft purring of the cats and the shared breaths with Jen, I understand perfectly. I didn’t plan to stay on 97-B, but Jen offers sanctuary. I have followed her, hoping to build a life together. Can I do that?

At long last, have I found somewhere to belong?