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Aliena

OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA

Learning Love

It was some storm. The news reports were full of the way it had devastated the landscape it crossed, and now it was orienting on Brom's neighborhood. The weather station radar indicated that he had a window of opportunity to get in his exercise run now, before the winds intensified. He could make it to the park and back in half an hour if he kept moving.

He went out at dawn in his trunks, T-shirt, running shoes and head band—and paused. His new next door neighbor was standing before her house, looking perplexed. She was lovely, even in a baggy shirt and puffy trunks, with her dark hair bound under a kerchief. He paused. "Are you all right?"

"I correct thank you all," she responded. "Companion waiting."

Brom had not realized that she was foreign, not that it mattered. He walked over to her. He had seen her running the other day with a female companion. He had nodded to them in passing. "The winds are getting high. She's probably stuck in traffic. If you wait for her, you may miss your chance to run before it gets too dangerous. The storm is closing in."

"Daily must exercise," she said. "Alone not allowed."

Because it was not safe, even in the suburbs, for a young woman to run alone. "Why don't you run with me, then? We're neighbors, going to the same park, returning to the same place. You won't be alone."

She was uncertain. "Allowed this is?"

She had interesting speech patterns, confirming that English was not her native language. "A young woman shouldn't go with a strange man. But you have seen me before. You know where I live. We're not complete strangers, and I would be happy to get to know you better. The storm makes time of the essence. I think your companion would understand."

"Then run we together," she agreed.

They ran on into the deserted street. It was not yet properly light and few others were up and about, and the storm suppressed the rest. The woman ran well; she seemed to be a supremely healthy specimen. Brom liked that. "Let's exchange introductions," he said. They were merely jogging so that dialogue was feasible. "I am Brom Hudson, software consultant."

"I—my name think is Alien," she said. "Interface."

He was surprised. "You do not know?"

"I—from distant world. Name original not pronounceable. They give me name new."

Brom smiled. "You mean you are from a distant land, so you have a nickname here?"

"That be it must," she agreed. "Learning language still."

Clearly so. "You are from an alien country, so I will call you Aliena."

"This good is name?"

Brom found himself becoming unusually talkative. He wanted to impress this intriguing young woman. "Oh, yes. I'm adapting from a song, Arianna or Oreanna, I forget exactly, only making it Aliena, in honor of your origin."

"Song? What is?"

So he sang it crudely to the Arianna tune he remembered, vigorously because the jogging increased his wind. "Ali Ali-ena, Ali Ali-ena, Ali Ali Ali Ali Ali Ali-ena."

Then she sang it too, surprising him. Her notes were bell-like and her pitch was perfect.

"You really can sing!" he exclaimed.

"My planet—my country," she corrected herself. "Sing communicate by."

"Ah, like an oriental language, where pitch counts as well as sound," he said.

"Think I correct."

They reached the neighborhood park, where numerous riding, running, and walking trails wound through the forest. The rising wind was fluttering leaves and swaying branches, but it was not dangerous, yet.

Two gruff-looking men were loitering beside their path. They started to move as if to block the way. Brom gave them a direct stare and made a motion as of reaching for a shoulder holster, and they backed off. It wasn't entirely a bluff; he had no gun but did carry a sturdy knife that could do a lot of damage in a hurry. Regardless, a woman with a man was not likely to be the easy prey they evidently sought.

"Martha unknown men not trust," Aliena said.

That would be her running companion. "She is right. Trust only men you know, and be cautious about them."

"We together sing trust."

"We have sung together," he agreed. If that was her basis for trust, that was fine with him. Her phrasing was distinctly odd, but the more he talked with her the better he liked her. She had a certain fetching naivete, and she was a seriously attractive woman.

They circled the park and exited the way they had come, following the street home. Now the winds had some gale-strength gusts. "In case we don't get to do this again, Aliena, I just want to say that I have enjoyed running with you."

"This pleasant is exercise," she agreed.

They reached their home block—just as the lights went out. All the houses dimmed together, and the streetlights. "Uh-oh."

"Meaning I confuse."

"It's an exclamation of concern. We have just suffered a neighborhood power outage. Our electric equipment won't work."

"This bad is?"

"That depends on how long it lasts. Probably the storm brought a tree down on a power box. It may take them an hour to get it repaired."

They stopped before her house. "I appreciation express running your with me," she said. "Now must inside return."

"You're welcome." Brom waited as she went to her front door. She tried to open it, but it remained closed.

"Uh-oh," he repeated. Then, to her: "Electronic lock?"

"Believe yes."

"Then I fear you are locked out. Do you have a mechanical key?"

"I what is not know."

"Martha handled the door?" he said, catching on.

"Martha everything yes."

She was screwed. He was not wholly dismayed. "Why don't you come into my house while you wait for Martha, or the power return? I can get in."

"This acceptable is?"

"In the circumstances, yes. As soon as we see either Martha or power, you can return to your own house."

"This do I will." She walked with him to his front door. Brom keyed it open mechanically and ushered her in. It was dark inside, but passable.

They sat in his modest living room and talked. Brom cautiously advised her on odd phrasings, and she quickly corrected them. She was a quick study.

"Why did Martha leave you here alone?" he asked her. "I never saw you outside without company before."

"Martha called away. She meant to return soon. I am supposed to be always with human company," she said. "Because I am unfamiliar with the ways. I must learn human culture."

Brom smiled. "You speak as if you are not human."

She paused. "I spoke with error. I regret."

"Don't worry about it. You are obviously human."

"In body," she agreed.

"Not in mind?"

She paused again. "I say what not know allowed."

She was garbling again, signaling her distress.

"Aliena, we have not known each other long, but we have sung together. You can speak freely to me and I will not be offended, nor will I try to get you in trouble. I just want to help you, if I can."

She considered. "Need I advice what to do. Martha always told me before."

"And you feel lost without ."

"I do." She touched her head. Brom saw there was a trace of blood on her bandanna. She must have gotten scratched during the run, though he had not seen it happen.

"There is blood on your head," he said. "Are you all right?"

She removed the bandanna. There was a light matting of blood beneath it, soaking through her hair. "I—sometimes it bleeds. Not serious."

Brom fetched a washcloth and poured some bottled water on it. "Let me mop it up," he said. He patted her head delicately, and wiped. There was not a lot of blood there. It welled from a line on her head. "Have you had surgery?"

"Is tell all right?" she asked somewhat plaintively.

"You can tell me," he agreed.

"Surgery," she said. "Brain exchange. Slow to heal. Martha bandages."

Brom froze. "Oh, you mean you had brain surgery."

"Yes. The body lost brain and would die. My brain transplanted. I learning to operate body, but connections not all operative yet."

This was amazing. "Your brain was transplanted into this body," he said, awed.

"Yes. I must take good care of the body. Eat well, exercise, medications. Incisions still healing."

Brom was amazed, but had no reason to doubt her. "What happened to the brain of this person?"

"I not completely clear. Believe she suffered immune rejection. You understand this? I do not."

"Immune rejection, yes," he said. "Each person's body has a ferociously protective attitude about its own cells, and rejects any intrusion. This is necessary to fight illness. But it interferes when there are transplants, such as of a kidney. The transplant is needed for the body to survive, yet its immune system fights the foreign organ. It's a problem."

"Yes. This body opposes my foreign brain. Medication protects me. But it did not protect the prior brain, which they learned about too late. Rare condition."

"Her body mounted an immune defense against her own brain," he said in wonder. "That's an amazing foul-up."

"Yes. But good for me, because I needed a host."

"What happened to you? Some really bad accident that ruined your own body?"

"No accident. My body was healthy. But I needed to come here."

"From your alien country," he agreed. "To interface, I think you said."

"Yes. To represent my kind before human people."

There was that odd reference again, as if she did not think of herself as entirely human. "So you are really an envoy, learning the local culture."

"Envoy," she agreed.

"Isn't that the hard way to do it? Leaving your body behind, instead of coming here personally?"

"Very hard," she agreed. "But my own body could not live here."

"I have trouble thinking of any place on Earth where an inhabitant could not survive here."

"Any place on Earth," she agreed.

This did not seem to be getting far. Brom got up and went to the door. "Let's see if Martha is back yet."

Aliena immediately joined him. He opened the door and was almost blown off his feet. The wind had risen to gale force and hard drops of rain peppered them like bullets. Nothing was visible outside except swirling vapors.

He pushed the door closed. "I think not," he said. "It's not fit for man nor beast out there. She can't be safe driving. She must be waiting for the storm to abate. That may be a long wait; it's a hurricane."

"I know what do to not," she said, garbling in her distress. "Martha guide me. Absent her from lost I am."

Brom turned to her and put his arms about her reassuringly. "You can stay here until she returns. You're safe here."

"Thank you."

Then he realized two things. First, that he had just put his hands on this strange, beautiful woman, a familiarity that their brief acquaintance did not justify. She was accepting it, trusting him.

Second, that he liked her, odd as she was. That was odd in its own way. He had not had any such inclination in the past year. Aliena was getting through to him in a manner no other woman had. He knew, because some had in effect offered, and he had politely but very firmly turned them down.

"What are we doing?" Aliena asked.

He took her question literally, knowing that she was not much for nuance. "We are embracing. It is a thing one person does for another, to ease distress. Closeness can make a person feel better, if she likes or trusts her companion. I know you fear being lost without Martha to guide you, and I am trying to reassure you. I will let you go if you prefer."

"It is working. Please remain. My tension eases in your embrace. Thank you."

"You're welcome." He was privately amazed by how very nice she was to hold.

"I do like and trust you," she continued. "You have shown me something I did not know. I think the body is signaling my mind to relax. This is an effect I have not experienced before."

"You must come from very far away."

"Most distant," she agreed.

"When you were a child, and you got injured, didn't your mother hold you?"

She considered. "Please, this term mother. I do not know it."

"Oh, you were an orphan! A child without a family."

"No family," she agreed uncertainly.

Increasing familiarity was not diminishing her oddity. "Look, Aliena, I think Martha is unlikely to get here soon. Neither is the power going to be restored quickly, which means you'll still be locked out of your house. We need to change out of our jogging clothes and settle in for the long haul. I believe I have some clothing that will fit you."

Now at last she made as if to disengage, and he let her. They returned to their chairs. "I think I should not burden you."

"It's not a burden," he reassured her. "In fact I like your company. I've been alone for a year."

"I am alone. I thought you were not alone."

He shrugged. "I have been questioning you. It's only fair that you question me. I am alone because my girlfriend died a year ago. I—rejected other women because they weren't her. You aren't her either, but I like you as you are."

"Girl friend? Martha is my friend."

"Not the same. People can be friends, and that's important. But a girlfriend or a boyfriend is a romantic relationship."

"Romantic?"

"There are not romances among your people?"

"Not," she agreed.

Again, he decided that literal was the best course. "A romance is when a man and a woman get together and fall in love."

"Love?"

This was more than strange. "I will be happy to clarify any and all unfamiliar terms. But first we should change and get comfortable. Let's see how Lucy's clothing fits you."

"Lucy?"

"She was my girlfriend. When she died, her things remained. I haven't touched them. I'm sure she would have wanted them to be put to good use."

"Good use," she echoed uncertainly.

He showed her to Lucy's room. Her dresses and shoes were in the closet. Brom pulled a red dress out on its hanger. "Try this one on. If you don't like it, there are others."

She just stood there. "Please, I know proceed not. Martha dressed me."

She did not even know how to dress herself? "I'm not sure this is something I should help you with, Aliena. It's not appropriate."

Now she was troubled. "Offend I meant not. Burden I regret."

"No, Aliena, you did not offend me! It's just that--" But what could he say? She must have been a princess, dressed by maids, and Martha did that job here She was evidently not conversant with the social conventions that provided a woman privacy. "I will help you change if you wish me to."

She relaxed slightly. "Please, I will try to learn so as not to be a burden again."

"I will take you through the process. Normally a person strips, washes, and changes. But with this power outage we don't have proper light or water, so we'll just change. Take off your sweatsuit."

She just stood there.

"Like this," he said. "Lift your arms up over your head."

She obeyed. He took hold of her sweatshirt and drew it up off her body and from her arms. Her full bra, suddenly exposed, made him catch his breath.

"Now I recognize the process!" she said gladly. "I can do it."

That was a relief. "I will go change myself in the other room. Come out when you're done." He exited, closing the door behind him.

He changed quickly to shirt and slacks, and to loafers. Fortunately he had not gotten sweaty in the windy morning run; he could get by without washing up. He returned to the living room. Soon Aliena joined him, changed. She wore the dress and sandals. Both seemed to fit her perfectly.

Brom's breath caught again. "You're beautiful!"

"The body was selected to be esthetic," she said. "To make the interface easier."

So they had chosen the prettiest host body they could obtain. That probably made sense, if she was to be a public figure.

But there was one detail. "Your hair," he said. "We need to brush it out."

She evidently hadn't thought of it. "This I can do. Has your girlfriend a brush?"

Brom went and rummaged, finding a brush. Aliena brushed while they talked.

"Please, tell me about girlfriend, romance, and love."

He thought the telling would be painful, but it was more of a relief, after a year suppressed. "Lucy was a petite blonde, just as you are a petite brunette. We seemed made for each other, and she moved in with me two years ago. We thought we would get married—that's a formal union, the formation of a family—but then things started going wrong, and we seemed less right for each other. I was pondering whether to break up, that is, not to marry. Then she died in a car crash. I think she was distraught and committed suicide. They said she was texting while driving, and lost control, but I think it was suicide. The irony is that I did not realize how much I loved her until I lost her. I was to blame for her death, though I was never charged and no one accused me. I have been mourning her since then."

"I do not comprehend all your references," Aliena said. "But I think I understand that you liked this woman very much and grieved when you lost her." Her brow furrowed. "I would like to learn love like this, for I see that it is important to you. How can I love?"

Brom shook his head. "It's not something you learn to do, exactly. It just happens when you associate closely with someone, if the chemistry is right."

"Chemistry?"

"In this context, it means that you are compatible and mutually attracted. It grows if nothing interferes."

She considered. "When we stood close together, and you comforted me, was that love?"

"Not by itself. But it could be the beginning of a feeling that grows into love as time passes."

"Please, comfort me again."

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Excerpted from Aliena by Piers Anthony. Copyright © 2013 Piers Anthony. Excerpted by permission of OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA.
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