Chapter 12

"Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

-Dylan Thomas

All the usual tourists had been cleared from the most popular areas of the wall, and as they walked along it they got a short history lesson on its construction and historical purpose. Elizabeth was glad to see even Laufa amazed at this marvel of labour and architecture. Nearly 2,000 years in the building, it spanned 5,500 miles and required the labour of millions of men. Apparently even the Vellorians could not imagine something so vast. Elizabeth had never enjoyed anything so much in her life. The Vellorians insisted upon walking miles and miles upon it, examining it and the beautiful countryside. Then, they were all taken up in the helicopter and flew over it so they could see the extent of the wall. They spent all day there, and by the time they reached their new hotel, all of them were looking up information on the Great Wall on their libraries. They had received them that morning and been given a little tutorial on how to work them, how to search for a subject, and find the book they wanted.

That evening, Dresle was enjoying reading about plants and looking at all the moving pictures of them, while Elizabeth was piecing together, on the couch, some Ashtauz words she had overheard the Vellorians say to each other that day. She had started to lose hope, however. She had only picked up about one hundred words, and those mostly from Dresle. There was no way she could discover the grammar, or any more vocabulary just from those words. Just then her phone beeped; she got it from her bag and saw that it was a text message from Will. It must be about eight in the morning in Oxford, she thought. It said:

Turn on the news. That weirdo linguist who worked with you at the airbase is on. Will.

Not quite understanding the message, but curious, she turned on the huge flatscreen TV with the remote and flicked through the channels until she suddenly saw someone she recognized, and stopped. It was a middle-aged man with white hair, glasses, and a pointy goatee. He was sitting on a lounge chair across from a famous media mogul, who was speaking.

"We have here with us today, Dr. Maximilian Chatel, an American who, up until very recently, was working with the aliens at the Arctic Base for nearly a month. Tell us, Dr. Chatel, what do you think of these aliens?"

"Please, John, I prefer to refer to them by their proper name, which is Vellorian."

"Of course, of course," replied the interviewer politely. "Vellorians. Can you impart to us, Dr., what your purpose was in that month when no one had any sight of these beings? – without revealing any state secrets, of course?"

Dr. Chatel laughed, a fatuous thing that went well with his fake smile. "Naturally. Well, as the world now knows, when the Vellorians first arrived, they did not speak any Earth languages, nor any language that we could understand. The best linguists in the world tried to communicate with them."

"Including you."

"Well, yes," Dr. Chatel laughed. "So we wanted to understand what their purpose was on this planet. Therefore, we taught them English."

"Now, why English instead of Mandarin or any of the other main Earth languages?"

"I don't know why the Council decided on English, probably because it's the one language all the world governments speak."

"So, they were not imprisoned – as has been conjectured – and experimented on medically?"

"Absolutely not," said Dr. Chatel, looking disgusted. "We asked their permission, as well as we could, and then, with their consent, and in the presence of linguists, we ran a few simple tests to make sure they carried no disease, and took scans of their bodies to see how similar they are to humans."

"And can you tell us what those results were?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to ask the doctors about that. One thing I can tell you, though: they are not human."

"They certainly look human."

"They do. But they are far beyond human. This is the true reason I wanted to visit your show, John: to tell you how my own life was saved by one of the Vellorians just minutes after they had exited their ship."

The crowd in the studio all fell quiet at these words, and even the interviewer looked amazed. "Save you? How? What danger were you in?"

"It was when the Vellorians had just come out of their ship; we linguists were called to come forward to try to translate. We were, as you know, in an Arctic place, so that the ground was very slippery and uncertain."

"Yes, the military has released the footage of their first steps on Earth."

"As I started forward, I slipped on the ice and fell down a crevasse, a hundred feet down at least. I was hanging on to a crag of ice for dear life. See, you can see the scars here of where I cut my hands on the ice," he displayed them for the interviewer's inspection. The camera focused in on the scars. "That was when one of the Vellorians, Darius, ran over at the risk of all the weapons pointed at him, jumped down, and carried me back up."

"That – seems a bit far-fetched," said the interviewer. "I mean, you could have got those scars anywhere. Why hasn't the government shown any footage of this?"

"They have released hardly anything. Perhaps they don't want us to think well of them."

"Why not?"

"There are some – who have prejudices." He looked hard at the screen and Elizabeth could imagine he was thinking of her as he said this. "But I have proof," he went on. "Another professional who was also present (whom I shall not name) took a video with their phone."

The crowd started muttering. "Well, let's see it," said the interviewer.

A moment later a large screen behind them was illuminated by the bright arctic always-day. Someone was obviously holding the camera-phone in their hand, trying to focus in on the Vellorians standing in their blue uniforms in front of their gigantic crystalline sphere. The video was shaky from the hand holding it and no words could really be heard because of the noise of the holder's glove over the speaker. But then suddenly a person on the right in a hazmat suit started forward and in three steps had slipped down with a wailing cry while a crack sounded and a crevasse opened. Everyone immediately backed away from the crack but a movement near the ship had attracted the attention of the recorder. The video switched to the ship, where the tall, red-haired Vellorian ran over to the crack. His long hair was pinned back behind his neck and he wore only those shoes made from some sort of leather. The video zoomed in and the recorder came close to the crack, showing from up above Darius breaking off sharp tongues of ice and using them to lower himself down to where Dr. Chatel was clinging. Then, with amazing agility he put Dr. Chatel on his back and climbed back out, when the Dr.'s face could clearly be seen, filled with terror and amazement, as the medvac took him away. Then suddenly the video ended.

There was uproar in the studio – John tried to talk and so did Dr. Chatel, but then they suddenly cut to a commercial.

"Was that Darius?" asked Dresle. She had come out of her room and was standing by the door, watching.

"Yes," said Elizabeth, turning off the TV.

"I don't know why they make such a big deal of that," said Dresle. "Darius wins many of our country's athletic games every year."

Darius indeed became an overnight sensation; and so, of course, did Dr. Chatel. The video went viral and in one weekend billions had viewed it. Dr. Chatel was seen on every talk show in America or Europe, and now wherever they went the media mobbed the Vellorians, trying to get a sight of Darius, or get an interview with him. No one got that, of course. The A.C. protected them too closely. Darius' linguist was then asked for an interview.

Although he knew little, he told what he had discovered about Darius, and was immediately fired. Darius was given a replacement linguist who was certain of being more discreet.

There were only little tiny personal details, such as Elizabeth had learned from Dresle. But they turned out to be devastating to the Vellorian. Darius had fathered three children. He had always secretly wanted to be an athlete or a soldier, because their physical training was so rigorous. He liked flowers and trees and the outdoors, and he was glad to be on Earth. He liked some Earth music that had been played for him – such as the Beatles, Queen, and Mozart. He preferred blonde women.

All of these seemed minor; but Elizabeth knew how exquisitely embarrassing this knowledge was, not only for the world to know, but most especially for his companions to know. This information, in Vellorian standards, was shameful. Elizabeth felt sorry for Darius, for she had always considered him a kind person. He hid himself, even from his companions, for over a week, and would not meet his new linguist.

Dresle confided to Elizabeth her disgust over Darius' admission of procreation and his "preference" for a certain type of woman. "It's disgusting," she said. "That he should prefer any type of citizen over another. And why should he want a career other than the one he had!" She was more sympathetic than the others, maybe, especially because Darius had admitted a love of flowers and other plants, and his love of Earth music.

A few weeks after this, while they were getting ready to visit Tokyo, Laufa's linguist, Damian, texted her and asked if they could all meet him in his room after dinner. Elizabeth arrived a couple of minutes late, for she had to explain to Dresle where she was going. She came in and all the seven linguists were lounging or standing around talking, sharing drinks from Damian's bar.

"Ah, here she is," said Damian when he saw Elizabeth. "I hope you were able to get away all right?"

"Fine."

"I don't know how you do it. Be around her all day and then have to share a room."

"It's not so bad," said Elizabeth, thinking that Damian would have good reason to fear if the same happened to him. Elizabeth still could not look Laufa in the yellow eyes. There was something so powerful and commanding about them, it made her want to either run away, or fall down and worship him.

"Well, now that we're all here, there's just one thing I wanted to talk with you about. I don't want to take up your whole evening."

The others stopped chatting and sat in chairs or stood nearby, sipping their drinks.

"Well, what is it?" asked Arjen's translator, a young Indian man.

"Laufa was asking me a question today – granted, he hardly ever asks me anything and mostly ignores me, preferring to read about things instead. But today as we were out we saw a family – two dads with their kids – and Laufa asked me about it. Once I had explained to him about the different types of families – let me just say that his comments were beyond offensive and were so filled with disgust and horror that it took me quite a time to calm him down, trying to get him quiet enough so that people around, especially the media, didn't hear. Now I don't know where this hatred stems from – maybe some prejudice on their planet – but I need to ask all of you, try to talk to your assignment, preferably in private. Explain it and also explain why any disrespectful response would be very offensive to our culture and very damaging to their image."

"That is so strange," Darius' new translator, a Chinese man, muttered. "I wonder where this prejudice comes from."

Elizabeth caught the glances cast her way, and knew what they were thinking. They had suspected possibly, maybe even discussed it together, why Dresle and Elizabeth were sharing living quarters. She shrugged it off. She knew why Laufa had been so dismayed. If reproduction and the idea of family was so shameful to them, what must homosexuality seem to them but an even greater perversion? But Svaltu had asked her not to tell anyone else; and after the fiasco with Darius' first translator, she was not going to tell the group. She had told Will; but Will didn't count. He wasn't going to tell anyone.

She left before the others had finished discussing it. Going back to her room she found Dresle trying to look at her handheld.

"Sorry," she said in embarrassment, setting it down. "I just wanted to see what it is you're reading in your free time."

"That's okay."

"What was the meeting about?"

"Nothing much. We can talk about it later." She picked up the phone and saw that it was at the chapter near the end where she had left it.

"I've been thinking about the literature you talked about," continued Dresle. "I am getting tired of the history books and thought I could maybe read what you were reading."

Elizabeth looked at the section she was reading, and asked Dresle to read a segment out loud. Dresle began haltingly.

"Verily, verily, travelers have seen many monstrous idols in many countries; but no human eyes have ever seen more daring, gross, and shocking images of the Divine nature, than we creatures of the dust make in our own likenesses, of our own bad passions."*

She stopped, after having paused frequently between words. "I don't understand," she said.

"I thought so," murmured Elizabeth.

"What is 'verily,' 'idols,' and 'Divine nature'? I don't understand this at all."

"I suspected so," said Elizabeth. "This literature is too difficult, too advanced for you."

"I think you are right."

"Let me think about it, and I'll find you something… better for your level. You're very new at English after all!"

"And Chinese," said Dresle.

"That's true,' Elizabeth smiled. She had, at Dresle's own request, been teaching her Mandarin Chinese (which Christoph had picked up in his first few weeks there). Dresle was a fast learner, too, however. There had passed between them, as by unspoken agreement, that Dresle would in turn help Elizabeth learn a little bit of her own language. Dresle knew how much Elizabeth wanted to learn it, and that she could be relied upon to show discretion about revealing her knowledge. Dresle learned that she had been picking up words from them and so saw no harm in it. She refused, however, to teach Elizabeth their written language.

"I will find a good book for you," Elizabeth promised. "But there's one thing I wanted to talk to you about."

"About your meeting?"

"Yes."

They sat together on the couch and Elizabeth tried to explain that in this day and age on their planet, some women fell in love with other women and some men with men, and that many famous celebrities and politicians were such, etc. To her surprise Dresle did not seem amazed or astonished at this, although certainly disgusted. "Yes, I have heard of these," she said. "There have been some even in my country – but they are punished just like the rest."

"The rest of what?"

"Those who commit carnal crimes," said Dresle, as if this was obvious.

"And what is the punishment for that?"

"It is severe," said Dresle, "since the offense is so rank." Then she turned red. "Maybe I should not have said that?" she asked.

"You will have to be more careful when speaking in public. But what is the punishment?"

Dresle sighed. "A public operation, used without – beygrafa – the medicine that puts you to sleep. Do you have it here?"

"I think so, although maybe not quite the same as yours. We call it anesthesia."

"Anesthesia," Dresle repeated slowly. "Yes, they do it without anesthesia." She shuddered. "I hated watching it."

"Watching what? What do they do?"

"They – I'm not sure of the word for what they do to the man, but they make the woman so she cannot have any more children. And if there was a – you know – product conceived it is aborted."

What could they do to the men? thought Elizabeth. Castrate them? But she said nothing.

"After that, no matter what their class, they are sent to work in the lowest class, the brown menial labourers, for the rest of their lives."

"I thought you said that all the classes were equal?"

"Well, they are. They are all equally important to the society. But we were trained for our various careers since we were children, so it is very horrible to be sent from an interesting job you love to something so boring and menial."

"I see. And are these crimes very common?"

"Carnal crimes? Oh, no," said Dresle. "No one wants such a heavy punishment. And why should they do it, anyway? Such a perverse and bestial act."

"What about the lowest class? The brown class?"

"I don't know if it is more common there. We are only forced to watch those of the other classes. I don't believe anyone in the second class – that is, Svaltu's caste – has ever been guilty of it in our history. Occasionally it happens to soldiers who are stationed in other countries – they get led astray, you know – but they are always shipped back for immediate punishment."

Elizabeth felt appalled by this harsh system. She understood now why Dresle was so offended when she asked her if she had any children.

They spoke no more of this and the next day travelled to Tokyo. Once they had got there and all the formalities were gone through, Elizabeth called Will. She had not talked to him since she had been in Shanghai, and this time was trying to get the time zone change correct, so as to not call him in the middle of the night. She waited until about three p.m. and tried to call, but he didn't answer. She thought she would try to call again that evening. Around eight p.m. she called again, thinking he might be having lunch, but there was no response. She left a message this time. Maybe after his work day was over he would call her back. She even kept the phone next to her that night as she slept, but she did not hear from him. She tried texting, but with equal success. It was very strange, she thought; he was usually so consistent about answering his phone.

That day they were very busy, being shown around and meeting state dignitaries for meals. She had the chance to try him once more that night, but got no answer. She left another message. The next day came and she began to worry. Where was he? What was he doing?

After lunch the third day she sat down to turn on the TV, which she had not done for a week or so. The news was blaring on nearly every channel, the harrowing words: "Riots in London and Oxford after bomb. Terrorists suspected."

*This quote is from Little Dorrit by Charles Dickens