The
walking dead
Eileen
noticed that the ambassador was dead. Its normally scaly skin showed
milky puckered patches where the scales had fallen off. In fact, it
was shedding on the carpet. Its eyes were dull, not glassy, and all
color had leached from its crest.
"Sir,"
she asked, "what happened?" Or was one supposed to pretend
not to notice? She could not remember.
"I'd
rather not talk about it, Deputy Commissioner Johnson," the
Kaarshin replied. The tendrils around its mouth fluttered rapidly,
but whether this was part of the decomposition process, or indicated
some emotion, she didn't know. She'd only been on We're There a few
months, and had not interacted much with the native species.
Smalltalk!
What to say? "Well, uh, about your trip to the mountains.
Will you be staying long?" Oh great, of course it was going to
be staying long, it was going to stay forever.
"Just
a few weeks, Deputy Commissioner. I have some family business to
wrap up."
*
As
soon as the ambassador left, Eileen hurried next door.
"Josh!
What's going on? The ambassador, was it... dead? I've read about
this, but..."
Josh
put down his sandwich and pointed to his mouth. He was chewing a
tremendous bite of corned beef on rye. Finally, he swallowed it and
then picked up a glass of water. He took a long drink. By this time
she was in a frenzy of impatience.
"Molting,"
he said, and picked up his sandwich.
"Oh.
Now I feel so stupid." She went back to her office. The phone
rang. It was Josh.
"Gotcha,"
he said. "No, he's dead all right. Been dead for about four
days I would say, judging from the condition of his skin. Talk to
you later." He hung up.
So
was it like being a zombie? She felt sorry for it. It seemed like a
long drawn out tortuous way to die.
*
After
work, Eileen walked down to the Kaarshin quarter. She had never been
to the narrow crooked streets flanked by tall windowless buildings.
The older buildings leaned in over alleys strewn with fallen bricks.
In the shadows, the walls were painted with primitive grace: herds of
willowy creatures running, jumping, flying. The artists had used
dozens of colors, but their choices were in no way lifelike. A mauve
and lime green hidebuck, for instance, would be rendered as crimson
and khaki on one wall and solid pink on another. She almost forgot
to look at the Kaarshins, so taken was she with their wall art. But
when she did focus on the people, she realized that at least half of
them were ... deceased. Many had bleached, pitted skin. They were
not simply maimed or disabled, they were ghosts in solid form. Some
were missing limbs, were completely penetrated by holes, or were
simply wearing down to the bone. Lying by a flight of stairs and
leaning against the wall was what Eileen first took for a pile of
trash. Then it moved, a brief, periodic, trembling, and she realized
it was the limbless remnant of a Kaarshin. Why had she not noticed
this? Why had no one said anything? It seemed to be in distress, so
she squatted down beside it.
"Can
I help you?" Realizing it might not understand English, she
switched to Karsh and repeated her question. It rolled its eyes
towards her, but said nothing. "I want to help you."
Something
touched her shoulder. She screamed and leapt to her feet. It was
the ambassador.
"It's
you. This being seemed so sad or in pain. I wanted to help."
"You
can do nothing. I assure you it feels no pain. This is a necessary
process."
"I
know you don't want to talk about it," she replied. Ambassador
raised his hand.
"When
some of our metabolic processes cease, others remain active. The
body consumes itself to further the existence of the individual. We
use this time to settle our affairs. Eventually, everything that
must be done has been completed. At this time, an individual finds
peace. For years, scholars argued about the deaths of humans. Most
did not believe the stories you told. Some thought your species
lived in denial; some thought we simply didn't understand your
explanations, cloaked as they were in mythic language. Others
thought you were misinformed. Finally the wise came to realize that
you are the unfortunates you seem. Allow me to express my regrets.
Your souls move to the next sphere with unsatisfied needs and
unfinished business. This makes it very difficult for them to ascend
and many never succeed."
Eileen
left the native city and trudged up the hill towards the human
settlement. Tonight would be a good time to visit her father.
Publ. The Simian Transcript (book), 2010
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