Scheherezade I, for the benefit of the sheikh I continue the tale of Centennial Hills.  My sheikh won’t kill me if I fail to produce the storytelling goods, but I will feel a twinge of failure myself, so I proceed…

Content Warnings:  Classism, Dubious Prostitution, Wealth Inequality, Chemical Abuse, Ableism, Menacing Vibes, Violence, Unpleasant Depiction of an Unhoused Person and Drug Addicts, Feral American Conservative Behavior, Police Cars, a Disabled Child in Danger.

The edginess is ramping up again.  Beware!

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CENTENNIAL HILLS CONTINUES

by Bébé Mélange

As the elevator rose through the casino hotel, they could imagine the money increasing around them, the quality of life.  The doors opened onto the thirty-fifth floor, confirming the feeling.  The carpet was clean, the swirling motifs less nauseating, here rendered in gold and ivory colors.  The lights were bright, the window at the end of the hall showed brilliant blue day outside, the AC was perfectly moderated.  The portraits on the walls were classy opera clowns, hung level and unperturbed.  Nobody lurked in the hall.

The young man led the scruffy criminals and wounded alien to his suite, opening the door to reveal moderately swanky digs.  Surely he could afford better, but then, he may have chosen this hotel to be close to his questionable taste in action.

A man sat in the corner, clearly a bodyguard.  He put down his tablet and calmly stood, hands folded in front.

“Relax, Sam.  They won’t be trouble.”  To his guests, “Rest.  I’ll get water.  And beer, just in case.”

Lita said, “Thank you, sir,” and with Rennie’s help laid Snar out on a couch.  She stayed by their side, kneeling on the floor while Rennie and Nate took seats across from them.

“Ayyo what’s your name?  All respect!,” Nate said.

The young man returned with a tray bearing three bottles of beer and three bottles of water.  “I’ll say my name is Caspar.”

“Friendly,” said Rennie.

He knelt to lay the tray on the floor beside Lita, and she set to work.  Then he walked behind the couch to watch.

Indeed, the alien drank the beer when she held up the bottle.  Snar’s face moved weakly, thin lips pulling gently at the bottle, beer escaping in foamy little streams.

After they finished the bottle, Caspar said, “Humor me.  Try the water.”

“Um, OK, sir.”  Lita tried a bottle of water next.

Snar’s left eyelid fluttered and their whole body subtly shifted.  They tried to move their fingers.

“Oh no!,” Lita said, trying to pull the bottle away.

Snar managed enough energy to grab the bottle before she got it out of reach, pulled it back to their lips.

“Perhaps you simply did not give her the right water.  It seemed odd to me that such a human-like and …flexible creature would not be able to palate water.  Have you noticed her body bends like rubber?”

Lita was amazed.  “Wow.  I had no idea.”  She got another bottle ready.

Nate grumped, “We coulda just got her water at the bar?  Goddamnit.”

Caspar looked at Snar, studying every detail with a gleam in his eye.  “We will get her water until she is satisfied.  Then, perhaps, a bath and some clean clothes?”  The tank top and black hose trailing into tatters wasn’t a great look, even with the spaceman belt to accessorize.

“Sir,” asked Nate, “You mind my askin’ what you wanna do here?  I’m just…  I think we all know how valuable she can be, and was wondering, like, what your ideas were..?”

“I would rather the world at large doesn’t discover her just yet,” Caspar said.  “You will all agree, people can be so cruel.  Is it selfish to want her all to ourselves?”

“OK, but how can she make us money?  We saved her life, well, Lita did, and it’s only fair, I think.”

“You don’t have to worry about money here.  What is your name?”

“Uh, I’m Nathan.  This is Renard and Casuelita.”

“Lita, please.”

“Rennie.”

“Nathan, I will provide what you require, if you will but allow me the company of Smar.  She is fascinating.”

Scientific curiosity, thought Lita.  Understandable.

“What we require, huh?”  He didn’t like the ambiguity, but took the answer for the moment, leaning back in his chair.  He pondered the dinosaur of cocaine.  How much was inside?  Was it filled to the cork?  No way.  That would be three or four large.  Just for watching alien boxing, no terms discussed?  No way.

Snar finished the third bottle of water, declined another beer, and wiggled the empty water bottle for more.  “Ogay?”  They felt wrecked and foggy-headed still, but improved.  They could tell without looking that about half their face and their entire neck were contused, their notochord inflamed from a near rupture in the cervical region.

“I’m on it, angel.”  Lita went to the small side room with the refrigerator.  Most of the rooms in the building didn’t have one.  For that matter, most only had ancient cathode ray TVs.

Snar noticed the looming person above them, the precise grooming and clean clothes reminding them of the gun guys.  But this one didn’t seem to have a gun, and was showing its mouth bones, lips turned up at the corners.

“Hello,” said the person.

“Chello,” said Snar.  They figured they should keep it amiable, though they didn’t have the energy to fake a smile.  They pointed at theirself.  “Smar.  Ogay?”  They pointed at the clean guy.

“Caspar.”

“Chello, Geshbur.”

Lita quickly returned with the last four bottles of water.  “Here you go, baby.  Drink up!”

Snar nodded and took the bottles, drinking them down one after another.  They still didn’t like the way this Caspar was looking at them, with those tiny eyes.

Caspar said, “Do you understand us?  Have you learned English?”

They flicked their eyes aside and narrowed their lips.

Caspar pointed down and said “Earth.”  Then he pointed up.  “And you?”

“Aimab.”  Whatever clean guy’s failings of charm, he was better at listening than the dirty locals.  But was that a good thing?  It was an opportunity for some useful learning.  Snar tapped the bottle.  “Ogay?”

“Water,” said Caspar.

“Water,” said Snar.

“That’s very good, Smar.  You’re so smart,” Lita said.

“She should be,” Nate said.  “She’s a grown-ass alien.”

Rennie said, “Snrk, unless that’s what babies look like on Eyeknob.  Maybe adults’re like, ten feet tall.”

Lita turned to Rennie in shock and Caspar cocked an eyebrow.  She said, “Don’t even say that, Rennie!  Oh my god, can you imagine?  Oh no!”

Caspar said, “I find it unlikely.  Who would send a child into space?”

Lita turned back to Snar and sighed.  “Oh thank Christ.”

“snrk,” Rennie mumbled, “superman senior did that shit”

“Smar,” Caspar said, “You get rested up nice and well.  We have so much to learn about each other.”

Snar fake smiled and gave a thumbs up.

“Ay Caspar, you got a razor and a twenty up in here?”  Nate was ready to pop the cork.

 

Tmai and Olivia just couldn’t get lost in the crowd.  At night, at a distance, the big alien eyes might be mistaken for sunglasses, the face might pass.  But in the crowd in broad daylight?  The hoodie covered Tmai’s dome and left the face well lit.  Their silver grey legs and hands were also quite shiny.

Neither Tmai nor Olivia knew how to interpret people’s reactions, due to hearing or understanding or both.  There were a lot of smiles and cellphones and cheer.  What they couldn’t know was that nobody was assuming Tmai was real.  Tmai wasn’t as beleaguered and blinky as Snar had been at the casino, removing one of the biggest tells that their face wasn’t just a mask.  They were congratulating them on the costume, saying cheers and such.

Tmai at least recognized a friendly expression and nodded and waved, this way and that, while they tried to weave through the crowd and still keep a grip on Bumbo.  But they could hear the angry mature person.  Alien, they’d said.  Was it a corruption of “Ainavian”?  Had they captured one of the original surveyors, on whose report they had chosen this world?  Interrogated them?  How did Bumbo easily guess that they’d come from the sky?  What did these people know?

An eight year old handed Olivia his snow cone and smiled.  They like us, she thought.  She mouthed, “Thank you.”

“Alien” was being murmured by the crowd as well.  On sight, they had a word for Tmai.  They were unnerved, but kept on.   But suddenly, the crowd broke behind them, became too much of a crush in front of them, and they had to turn around.

The old man said, “THAT ALIEN is REAL!  OPEN YOUR EYES, SHEEPLE!”

“Could it be?”  “Jesus, he might be right.”  “In sooth, what knavery is this?”

Tmai readied their arms, palms down.  Their leg was already much improved from the collagen and protein consumption, miraculously, but they didn’t want to put that to the test.  It would be hand strikes and grappling, if it came down to it.

“Hey!  Leave the alien alone, gramps!”

“Yeah!”

“Defend this wondrous sylph with your steel, men!”

All around, the crowd started to turn on the old man.

“You don’t understand!  It could have space diseases!  They’re in it with the Russians!  YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!”

Knights and squires beat him back with foam weaponry, until he was out of sight.

People began to point hand-held computers at them, to offer them both gifts, to shower them with soft organic confetti of some kind, and generally act festive all around.  Some did tumbling moves, some juggled.  Others cheered and waved.  Some considerate knights helped keep the crowd from turning into a crush.

Olivia turned to Tmai with a big piece of animal meat in her hand from one of the vendors, and waved it triumphantly.  Then she signed, “G-use, Yes yes yes!”  She was laden with beads and a little crown.

A loud BOOP WOOP noise sounded and the mood of the crowd shifted again.  Some youths hustled Tmai and Olivia out of sight in a tent, made a shushing gesture with a finger over lips.  As they hid, Olivia chewed off a big bite of the animal and passed it to Tmai.  They mouthed it to feel for a good soft spot, and gummed it down.

Delicious!  Although nearly as salty as the carnivore bone.

More boops sounded, and people shuffled and bustled outside the tent.  What was going on?  The friendly people thought it a good idea to hide them, so Tmai went with it, but it would be better to not be at the mercy of strangers any more than necessary.

They noticed the back of the tent was loose enough to slip under, and pointed it out to Bumbo.  They left the meat in the grass and the child’s crown was pushed off as they slipped under the back of the structure.

At the front drive of the park, they saw wheeled vehicles covered in words and symbols, blue white and red lights flashing from their domes.  A person in uniform stood near the vehicles, looking into the park – belt covered in tools.  From the car and the man, Tmai could hear degraded voices on primitive communication systems.

Olivia pointed to the cop, got Goose’s attention, and shook her head seriously.

Tmai nodded in understanding, and helped her over a fence so they could get away from the entrance of the park without being seen by the authority figure.  Then they leapt up and clambered over to follow.

 

Shammy had great resources on hand – special tools flown in from Seattle and supplemental materials from the Air Force, with people enough to move anything wherever he needed it.  He’d taken advantage to build scaffolding all around the saucer, letting his people get easily from one spot to the next.  A large cloth atop the frame concealed most of the areas of work.  They finally began cutting, crane magnets poised to hoist the pieces out.

He walked to the platform where Pep watched with a rapturous expression.  “Boss, it’s goin’ well.  I thought you might want to know.”

“I do, Shammy, I do.  Perhaps Mr. Frankreich would like to know as well?”

The young man fumbled with a clipboard and nearly dropped it.  “Ah, yes!  Absolutely.  Knowing.  I would like.”

The general and colonel were coming up from a lower platform and barely missed his embarrassing performance.  Ambergris looked back to them with a courteous smile.  “Pardon me, gentlemen.  Shammy was about to show Mr. Frankreich something closer to the ship.  We’ll be right back.”

Tweed said, “As you were,” and took a seat beside Scuzz.

Shammy hadn’t meant to escort them closer to the ship, but he took the hint and led them along the scaffolded catwalks.  “Well, the material you had us analyze in … the other facility, well, it was a big help here.  It turn’t out to be an exotic metamaterial of aluminum, with polonium microstructures wafer’t in the middle.  We identified the polonium structure with the variagraphic electron scopes ta know where to slice…”

Pep asked, “How is the cutting, then?”

“Like a knife through butter.”

“Beautiful.”

Frankreich surprised him by asking a question.  “Has there been any, ah, hint as to…  where the pilot went?”

Shammy looked to Pep for permission to speak, and getting the nod said, “It was definitely manned by some ETs about human size, but there was no blood, no sign of them.  I’d guess they were suck’t out tha hole in the dome.  Could be bodies anywhere in California or Nevada.”

“Relax, Mr. Frankreich.  I’m sure they’re flattened on a mountainside, getting top secret classification in a bear’s intestines as we speak.”

He shook his head.  “I hope so.”

Pep stepped closer to Shammy and spoke softly enough to be difficult to hear for Frankreich, but not softly enough to make it look like that was his intent.  “I’m not sure if I made it clear before, but my biggest priority is an ETA on completion.  I know that might not be possible right now, but do we at least know if it can be made to fly again?”

“I’d say so,” he was happy to report.  “Timeline is harder ta say.  We identified the reason it crash’t.  Stabilizers out of whack.  I can fix that, but can we fabricate…  the extra parts you wanted, to where it can be structurally sound?  I can’t say yet.  Can’t say how long it would take.”

“Well, anything worth doing is worth doing right, but don’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good.”

The useless clichés momentarily blanked out Shammy’s mind, then he recovered.  “I’ll take that on board, boss.”

“Good man!”  Pep slapped him on the arm then turned to walk back with Frankreich.  “He’s a good man.”

“Thank you for your service,” Frankreich told Shammy.

“You’re welcome?”

 

Caspar’s bodyguard was serious and stiff the more things progressed, trying to look away as much as possible from the crimes on display.  Nate talked everyone including Snar into doing some coke.  Caspar took some but didn’t seem to be affected, though he acted pleased.

Dude has an iron nostril, Nate thought.

Someone knocked at the door and Nate and Lita almost had heart attacks.  Rennie was slightly less jumpy.  Caspar went to the door and came back with a package.

“Fresh clothes for the lady.  Would you like to take a bath now, Smar?”

The cocaine didn’t seem to have the same effect on Ainavians as on Earthlings, Snar realized.  The others were showing elevated energy and smiles.  They just felt like their skin was burning and tingling, and that their throat was full of soap, no matter how much water they consumed.  What was Caspar even offering now?

“Come.”  He rose to escort Snar.

Lita thought about it and said, “No, let her keep her modesty.  I’ll go wash her up.”

“Take a bath yourself, if you like.  I didn’t get you replacement clothes, but you can wear a bathrobe while I have your things laundered.”

“I’ll think about it,” she said, smiling falsely.  She had no intention of sitting around in a bathrobe – wanted to be able to leave the suite at a moment’s notice.  She escorted Snar to the bath, taking the fresh clothes under one arm.

They were alone again.  The tub was surely the best in the hotel but still a bit small.  Even so, it would be comfortable enough for one.  She ran the water, checking the temperature with her hand, then helped Snar do the same.

Snar didn’t seem to get it, so she pointed to the knobs.  “Hot, Cold.”  She got them to hold their hand under the stream and made it colder as a demonstration.  Then Snar got it, and helped Lita set the temp to the right one for an Ainavian.  She still had to turn the knobs because the alien’s grip was so weak.

Once Snar was naked and in to soak, Lita relaxed as much as the lingering cocaine would allow, leaning on the edge of the tub.  “Smar?  What’s Eyeknob like?”

She asked me about Ainav, even though she knows she won’t understand the answer.  Well, why not?  Snar gestured out the mouth, then shook their head no.  Then they flashed some rapid hand signs, and nodded their head yes.

“You talk with your hands?  Wow.  Go on.”

Snar let theirself sink in the water a bit and started throwing signs at her she would never understand.  “Ainav is the nicest place in the galaxy for Ainavians, of course.  The sun is much smaller in the sky, but the humidity traps enough heat to give us a very steady temperature.  There’s all the water you need, nobody giving you guff…  Well, it probably just seems like that to me, because I’ve never lived there for long.  Pods on Tresum Station are all packed in like Sooby capsules.  There’s never a moment of peace.  I just want to play my puzzles, do my studies.  I’ve heard Vinudians don’t care that much about bedside manner, which is great.  I can doctor to them without it being a big social affair.  Some say it’s a noble calling, being a physician to a species with more complex and flawed health than most.  But it was just a means to get away from my pod for a while, enjoy some thoughtful activity in peace.  I’ll get in a habit of leaving my receivers off, make a big production of turning them on whenever anyone wants to talk to me, until they stop asking.

I seem to have gotten a bit off topic.  What is Earth like?”  They said Earth aloud, amid the hand signs.

“What’s Earth like?  Oh, it’s a terrible place, full of sin and wickedness.  I hear there are good places.  I mean, they call Las Vegas ‘Sin City’ so I guess I get what I asked for, living here.  But there isn’t enough money in Bumfuck Egypt to buy what I need to set me right, so here I am.  Looking for a hot score, like every other devil.  I’m sorry it’s like this.  I wish…  Well, I’m glad I got to meet you, but for your sake I wish you’d landed in Canada.  They say people are nice there.  I’ve never been…  I guess I should get to scrubbing.  Let’s see if this soap is OK for you.”

Lita took off her overshirt to avoid soaking the sleeves, took some soap and a loofa, and tried to demonstrate their use to Smar – and just take over whenever that failed.  As she cleaned her up, she was surprised the livid bruising around her neck and face had already begun to fade.  Did water help her that much?  Another reason to feel guilty for not figuring that one out sooner.

She got Smar clean.  In the bright light of the hotel bathroom, she didn’t see how she felt sexual about the alien earlier in the day.  Rennie was part right – she had a physique like a little girl.  Lita wasn’t a lesbian, but if she was going to go there, she’d want to at least find out what another lady’s tits are like, and there was nothing on display.  Smar had only one opening, which meant she probably pooped and peed out of the same place she’d had sex with that morning.  Ew.  What had she been thinking?  Even so, affection remained.  She thought the inhuman weirdo was, at the very least, ugly-cute, and was extremely happy to see her on the mend.

She towelled Smar off, feeling like a babysitter, and they turned their attention to the fresh clothes.  Lita opened the package and her face fell.  The lacy contents looked like lingerie.  Smar had no special reaction, which made the guilt rise in her even faster.  She chewed one of her knuckles in worry.

Snar tried to figure out the garments.  They put on the pelvis wrap.  It was small and red silk with ruffly black lace appointments.  Odd.  There were leg covers, but they were sheer and didn’t go up as far as the pelvis.  But they did have straps to hook onto something.  Another wrap, one that only covered the middle abdomen, exposing the lower belly and shoulders.  They hooked the straps to the middle wrap, and put on the collection belt over the top of that.  The only thing left then was the sparkly long gloves and bizarre over garments for feet.  But why is Lita looking so crumpled?

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Ending an entry in the middle of a scene again.  Just wasn’t a good place for a break in these long ones.  Anyway, you can probably see where this is going and jump ship if you like, although I think I handled my sketchy situation with more restraint than George RR Martin typically would.

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