Artificial Heart

15

'Who are you?' asked a tall thin man in the middle. He had a black moustache. He sounded American. He wore wearing a long-sleeved business shirt rolled up to the elbows. His shoes were shiny.

'No. Ask me about the ship. About Alf.' She bit down on her lip. Alf? She actually said that?

'Who is Alf?'

'It is ... it is the name I gave him—the alien.' She gripped her hands in front of her.

'You call him Alf?' came an unidentifiable accent further down the line.

The surprise and genuine humour in the man's voice lightened the mood slightly. Two of the men exchanged smirks then leaned in to speak to each other, passing Prisha furtive glances.

'He's—he's quite unique,' Prisha said. 'He's very nice.'

And she went ahead explained everything she could about him. His sweetness. His kindness. His intelligence. All that stuck out about him. She told them what she knew about his origins. Unsurprisingly his artificial/organic makeup was what most fascinated them. They asked her several technical questions she couldn't understand.

'He is on the ship at the moment, watching and listening,' she said.

It was a lie. She had no idea if he could hear anything at all. But it made her feel safer telling them so. A light threat. Did the helmet have some kind of microphone that relayed back to Alf? It seemed likely.

'Why isn't he talking with us?'

Another accent. British? Four out of the seven of them sounded American. Was she in America? She looked around and shivered against the cool night air. It smelled different. The air felt different against her skin. Even the grass felt strange against the soles of her shoes. The trees seemed alien.

'He can't speak our language.' She went to tap her temple and bumped her knuckles again. 'I think ... I think he put something in my head, so I can speak with him, though I don't notice I'm doing it.'

That stirred a lot of interest. The tall, thin man with the black moustache was studying her with uncomfortable intensity. A few of the others watched her too closely. Prisha's skin prickled. Once more, she was eternally grateful for Alf's helmet.

She went on to explain what she knew of the ship. She was feeling much more stupid now, much more out of her comfort zone, but surprisingly nobody seemed disdainful or frustrated or annoyed. Perhaps the simple description was preferable.

None of the seven figures moved from their spots, though they would whisper in each other's ears now and then. The men in the back—the so-called bodyguards with their weapons—hadn't moved either. The tall shaggy, unfamiliar trees waved in the breeze.

'And that's really all I can say about that,' Prisha said. She shifted awkwardly. 'Sorry.'

'Why you?' a woman near the end asked.

'It was an accident.' Prisha didn't elaborate. The less they knew about her abduction, the better. Besides, her association with Alf was private, something she wanted to keep to herself.

'Why is he here? Why did he make contact?'

Prisha relayed what he'd told her. She fumbled with her explanation because he hadn't really told her anything. 'He says we're in trouble. He says the survival of our sp-civilisation may depend on it.'

'In what way?'

'You know what way.'

They were quiet. They all looked at each other.

'Apparently, tonight is only an introduction.' Prisha shrugged. 'I suppose there'll be more meetings.'

'Do you trust him?' spoke the woman.