five
DAYS LATER Atoms finds himself in bed in a shallow pool of warm water. Robby informs him of the passage of time, crouched beside Atom in the milky water, suitless. Black star-stained sky hangs behind Robby's head. Clear and cloudless. The stars do not spin. Atom pushes himself into a sitting position, takes a deep breath, and does not cough.
His limbs are stiff but the aching has passed. With a clear head he assesses his surroundings.
The shallow pool appears unnaturally small, only large enough to hold the length of one man. Over a thin strip of land to his right is a much larger lake. All around and in every direction small blue-purple flowers grow out of deep brown soil. Their delicate petals float in the water around them, and fill the air with a cool gentle scent. The night air is warm on his exposed skin. Ash-blue clay forms to his body as his neck and chest begin to air dry. The ground underneath him in the pool is more plant than mud, and soft to the touch.
Beside the pool is an assortment of pastes and plants and vials. Robby lifts a jug of clear water to Atom's lips and he drinks, taking the jug from Robby to finish it off in big greedy gulps.
Setting the jug back onto the flowery shore, Atom notices a strange lumpy line on the back of his forearm. Upon closer inspection he finds three long lacerations from elbow to wrist embedded in his skin, and each crevice is packed full with dark green vines, and loosely stitched shut. Atom prods at one laceration and finds it perfectly numb. The same is true for his other arm.
He looks at Robby. Unable to even begin with questions.
To get rid of your fever, Robby says. It was a last resort. I will take them out now that you are better.
Atom's stomach churns at the thought.
You won't feel a thing. They absorb infection, and numb the surrounding area. I will be quick. Lie back.
Atom stares at him a moment longer, but ultimately lays back into the strange heated pool. Immediately it soothes him. He focuses on the stars while Robby does his work. After both arms are finished, he moves to his legs and Atom chances a peek to see the same marks carved into his one fleshy thigh.
"By the way, where is the ship?" Atom asks. Across the connection Robby shows him the image of a place nearby, a dark rocky overhang, and deep in its shadow sits the ship, undetectable by overhead radars. Atom drops his head back. "Ah. Good thinking."
His eyes droop closed and he feels exhaustion lap at his senses. Once his work is finished, Robby's hand checks his pulse and then rests on his chest. The touch soothes Atom even further. Tentatively Robby shows Atom flashes of just how dire his sickness was. Atom places his own hand over Robby's.
The shuffling of grass nearby drags Atom's eyes back open. It takes him longer than he likes to react.
With baskets in hand, three short creatures creep towards the pool on bare feet. Wraith-like in their thinness, they wear soft robes of earthy colors. Their faces are gray, and too wrinkled to make out any features. They do not speak but lower the baskets to the ground at Atom's side.
Natives of this planet. They bring food for you. It is safe for you to eat.
"Thank you." Says Atom. Robby reaches out to clasp one hand around the small fist of the nearest stranger. A silent exchange passes between them. A different stranger extends one lanky arm and rubs a leather-hard hand over Atom's skull. And then they retreat back up the hill they came down.
The food in the baskets turns out to be a variety of unappealing sludge, ranging in color from blue to red to reddish-brown but offering no variety in consistency. The smell is rich and pleasant, and Atom's stomach growls despite himself. He digs in with his fingers and polishes all three baskets in rapid succession.
The sun, when it rises, does not rise above the horizon. The sky glows purple in the eastern sky for a short time and then dims back to the black of night. It reminds Atom of home. But here it is warm enough for things to grow. And warm enough for Atom to walk naked down to a clear river cutting down the middle of the valley.
A mountain range rings around them in three directions. In the fourth, Robby tells him there is a steep cliff which leads to this planet's single ocean.
Against his sweating skin the river is glacier-cold. Atom bathes quickly, careful to mind the fresh stitches on his arms and leg. After drying he dresses in the clean Keeper jumpsuit Robby hands to him, and follows Robby to the village of natives nestled in a cushion of shrubbery upstream. During the walk Robby refers to them as Weavers, and explains how they are a long time friend to him and his kind. They agreed to house Atom through the rest of his recovery, however long it may take. Though Atom is eager to get back to his mission, he can't deny the toll taken on his body. And the opportunity to meet yet another race of non-Earth lifeforms is already more than he could ever have asked for.
The Weaver's homes are low, dome-like structures made of woven wood and vine. Each hut boasts its own garden beside it, growing all kinds of rich, healthy plants. Some bloom with colorful flowers, but most are leafy and green and bulbous. As they pass through the center of the village, each waver stands and watches. Robby briefly touches the heads of those within reach.
In the center of the village is a dome larger than the others. Not by much, but the layer of flowers growing over it like a blanket does much to signify its importance.
A weaver exits its door to meet them. This one is taller than the others, but still only meets Atom's chest. And Atom doesn't have much in terms of height to boast for. She touches Atom's scalp and shows them to an empty hut next door. Robby translates her intent, and explains that this is where they are welcome to sleep. Then Robby informs him that he has to converse with this woman, the village elder, for some time, Atom is left to explore the village on his own.
For some time the weavers remain curious of him, but eventually they return back to the task of gardening. Atom notices a row of them hauling water from the river in buckets to water their gardens, and offers to assist them, but they only stare at him blankly, so he takes up an empty bucket and falls in line.
The labor is brutal on his weakened muscles and Atom is grateful for it. He can't afford to let his body go weak. He carries bucket after bucket until the last garden plot is finished and the weavers guide him to a communal dining area, which consists of a leafy plot of land around a flat stone table. The table is covered in vegetables and roots and the weavers teach him how to choose his own ingredients and grind them up into a digestible paste.
Robby returns from his meeting as Atom finishes his dinner, and when Atom retreats to bed he follows. Atom observes him take his place on the woven mat beside him with curiosity.
"Do you ever sleep?" He asks.
I do not. But I may indulge in rest occasionally.
Atom falls asleep quickly, but is woken a short time later when his lungs decide to cause a ruckus in his chest and send him into an awful coughing fit. In the dark, Robby presses something to his lips that smells sour and brings tears to the corners of his eyes. He helps Atom drink the sticky concoction and soon the cough recedes. Hours later he wakes again to a different noise. Crouching at the opening of the hut Atom sleepily listens to the sound of a wordless song, drifting over the rooftops as the sky grows purple. He doesn't see the source of the singing but he remains awake until the brief daylight slips back to nightfall and the song ends.
That day he assists the weavers with the task of watering once more. When another coughing fit pulls him from the job early, a pair of them guide him into the thicket of a garden teeming with yellow-flowered plants and together teach him how to make the cough syrup from last night.
They instruct him to grind the largest of the yellow flowers into a shallow stone bowl. Then he shucks the nuts from the inside of the stem of a different plant and adds them into the mix. He learns that this is where the pungent smell comes from. Lastly he tears the leaves of a broad-leafed shrub onto the sludge and adds a splash of boiling water.
The syrup coats his throat and makes him drowsy, but it works quickly. The overhanging thicket chirps with insects and Atom idly wipes the sweat from his forehead. One of the weavers moves away to pluck at yellowing leaves while the other remains seated at his side.
"Have you seen my partner?" He asks him. The little weaver gazes back at him absently. Atom asks again and gets no reaction.
Cautiously he touches the back of the weaver's wrinkly hand with his bare fingers and empties his mind of everything but a clear image of Robby. The weaver hums and points his arm in a southern direction.
"Thank you." Says Atom, and sends a wave of gratitude through their joined hands, and exits the garden.
He follows a narrow path that leads him to the center of the village and no further clues to where Robby could be. He asks another weaver for directions and receives the same answer. Each weaver he passes points him further south from their village until the last one standing at the very edge of civilization leaps to her feet and guides Atom half a mile up the valley to a narrow crevice in the ground. The small weaver points down the crack, hoots, and runs back down the way she came. Curious, Atom crouches and attempts to see anything in the crevice, but without any trace of sunlight Atom sees nothing in the dark. He wonders if the little one played a trick on him, and considers walking back when a hand slides out of the darkness and the darkness seethes and rises and twists into a set of arms and legs and a body. Robby stands before him holding a cloth pouch. He holds it up with a slight shake.
Gathering seeds, says Robby. It is difficult for the weavers to reach the plants that grow in those depths. But it's no problem for me. Is everything alright?
"Yeah, I feel great. And more rested than I've felt in ages. But I must get back to my mission. I'm ready to leave when you are."
That is good to hear. Tomorrow, then. We will fly off.
"Tomorrow." Atom agrees.
Robby begins walking back to the village and Atom falls into step beside him.
"You said the weavers are a long-time friend of your people. And they seem fond of you. How many times have you been to this planet?"
This is my first time being here. I've heard stories, and always wanted to see it for myself. I'm glad I got the chance to, despite the unfortunate circumstance that brought us here.
"The weavers are... interesting." In the distance Atom sees the little weaver girl scampering back to her village. "You taught them your speech?"
My grandfather did.
"Can you teach it to anyone?"
Theoretically, yes. Though not every species is equipped to understand it, even if a connection is established.
"How many species have your people... connected with?"
Thousands.
Thousands. Thousands of intelligent lifeforms. Atom's pulse quickens with the thought. He hears the number but his mind struggles to believe it.
I have only met a handful of them. Some of them come to live on our planet, in small groups. Most of the planets I observe are empty. Life is still a rare phenomenon in this universe.
That is why I am glad to have met you. You are the first one I have ever given my speech to, he says.
Atom looks at him. "I'm sorry for trying to kill you when we met. I thought you were human. I thought—I never knew there were other beings in the universe. Meeting you has been... the most incredible thing. I want you to know that."
A gentle breeze catches his words and a visceral sadness grips Atom's throat. At the end of this mission he will be dead. His time with Robby is incredibly limited. It's an unfortunate thing to have only met him now, at the end of his life. If things had been different--
Atom stops his thoughts there. If things had been different, if he had never accepted this mission, he never would have met Robby. To know him now is a gift. One that he will cherish, to the end.
Robby looks at him, and reaches out, cupping his palm against the back of Atom's neck. His cold skin is a sweet relief against the humid air. It elicits a shiver from Atom.
He doesn't speak for the rest of the walk back to the village. When they near the first gardens, the weavers come out to greet them. They gather around Robby and hug his legs. He bends down to allow them to touch his head. Thin leathery knotted fingers caress his scalp. Then they lead him away, toward the seed library, and Atom helps prepare dinner.
After the meal, a group of a dozen or so weavers gather in a corner of the outdoor dining area and begin to sing. A harmonized chorus with few notes, but beautiful in its clarity. Atom remains in the field among them, watching them, listening well into the night. He doesn't notice Robby's absence until he comes back with a steaming cup in his hands. He places it on the soft grass in front of Atom's crossed legs. The sweet scented steam rising from the cup makes his mouth water.
"What is this?"
They call it Void-Bright. It is made from the flowers of the seeds that I gathered today. While I was down in the abyss I picked a few blooms as well. The tea made from its petals is said to taste like dreams.
"You've never tasted it?"
I have no sense of taste. If I touched it, I could draw you its molecular pattern. I am told taste is something different.
The tea on Atom's tongue tastes like a million colors. Some strange, some awful, some like the sweetest fruit. After a few sips, his mouth feels like mountain air. Wispy and full of moisture. Between sips he salivates for more. When the cup is empty he understands the level of gratitude expressed to Robby earlier for gathering more seeds for this plant. One could get addicted to this.
After washing his empty dishes in the river, Atom meanders to their hut with a belly full of warmth, and finds Robby already inside. In the dark, he is careful not to bump into him, and curls up on one side of the low space. But a stray thought pushes sleep from his mind.
"Are you awake?" He asks quietly.
Robby turns on his side to face him. Always, he says.
"I'm curious about something. All of the weavers know your language. Does this mean they each consumed the same thing you gave me?"
Not these weavers. The speech was given to their ancestors. Once you have swallowed it, the knowledge is fused with your cellular data. It is then passed down through childbirth. If you were to have a child, they would be born with the ability to Understand.
Atom shifts at the thought. But the information is interesting nonetheless.
"Hypothetically, if I were to have a child, could I talk to them telepathically? Like you and I?"
Somewhat. It wouldn't be as strong as when you and I talk. Some strong feelings might resonate. Nothing more.
"I see. Well, I won't ever get the chance to find out. I won't be going back to Earth. And even if I did... I don't lie with women."
A spark of something intense flickers from Robby, and as quickly as it comes it slips away as if it never happened. Atom blinks into the darkness.
Why is that? Robby asks, inflectionless.
"I like men, and I have no desire to procreate. Even with so few humans left... and with the urgent need to repopulate, biology still made me this way. Sometimes I think it's funny. Other times it feels like a blessing. A cosmic blessing. That I was meant to be this way, no matter the circumstances."
In the low light, Atom struggles to make out Robby's silhouette. "How do your people... couple?" He asks.
Cellular fusion.
"Of course."
Opposite molecule types attract, Robby elaborates. My mol is, as your species puts it, male. That is why I have taken this form. It is familiar to you. Otherwise we are indistinguishable in appearance. Our mol type only matters when it is time to couple.
"Is there any pleasure in it for you?"
Oh yes. Immensely.
Atom struggles to picture it. "But how exactly does it work?"
It is a complete sharing of two beings. Like when you and I share a thought. For a moment we are connected. Coupling is like that, but much more. Amplify that connection until our entire beings are joined. Each cell, side by side, he says.
Atom recalls how it felt when Robby first gave him his speech. How overwhelming it had been. But even the simplest thoughts had caused shock to his body back then. Now communicating with Robby feels as natural as breathing. He wonders what it would feel like now to engage in that level of connection. His pulse jumps at the idea.
Robby feels it. Atom knows he feels it.
If you would like, I could try to show you, he says, and suddenly sleep is the furthest thing on Atom's mind. The sound of his heart hammering against his chest, making its opinion known, echoes in the narrow space between their bodies.
"Show... If I..."
Robby's hand finds his skin, ghosting against the surface until it finds the pulsing center of his very being. The heat of the contact is almost searing.
And you can teach me... what brings you pleasure.
"It is a thing of flesh." Atom says, with half his mind. His other half has already gone elsewhere.
I can be flesh.
"I've noticed." Atom exhales. Robby drifts closer and Atom's hands find his face, cradling it, blindly guiding it toward his own. Robby's skin vibrates under his fingertips and against his palms. Vague human-like features greet his wandering hands. Every inch of him, shivering, and hotter than Atom has ever felt him.
How fortunate, that I too, prefer to couple with my mol mates.
Robby's lips against his own are smooth and hard at first. Bruising in their curiosity. But as they continue to kiss they soften and meld against Atom's until he is panting, laid out underneath Robby's body, a liquid mess entirely at the mercy of Robby's fire-hot hands. And Atom does as he's asked. He undresses, and guides Robby's wandering hands to where Atom needs them most. And he melts and melts and melts. Gasping, Atom falls back and waits for his mind to return to his head. With eyes half open he sees Robby sit up, fingers gliding in the mess on Atom's stomach.
Then Robby opens his mouth. Atoms knows this because from the parted lips of his wide open maw comes a soft white glow. It spills free, dripping down his chin and chest, luminescent and beautiful. It builds to a steady pour, and Atom props himself on one elbow to catch it in his palm. Lifting it to his face, he sees individual stars sparkling in the glowing substance. Slowly swirling.
Atom brings his hand to his lips and tastes it. Sweet airy nectar, more mist than moisture, drips to his belly. Metallic sugar clings to his mouth.
Atom brings Robby's lips back down to him and drinks from the source. After a while it tastes like iced honey, and any stray drops that slip from between them feel refreshingly cool against his sweating skin.
Once more he opens his body to Robby. And Robby opens his mind to Atom and Atom feels everything. He feels both larger than his body, and smaller than sand between Robby's encompassing hands. He feels his skin shifting, making room for Robby. And Atom's blood sings with the feeling of being inside Robby, of the clarity of pure connection, of this joining so whole and complete.
Bright warmth encompasses their being. Shivery warmth. Heat so severe their molecules tremble and dance and vibrate, overlapping, converging, gently brushing against each other. Heat that fills lungs, throat, and mouth. Heat that coats quivering bones, melting fingers, and dripping sweat.
Nails dig into skin and sink deeper beyond bounds. The world contained under his closed eyelids is white hot, orange and yellow on the edges. Beyond that is the purple blue blackness of space, enveloping him, suspending him in a pocket free of time. Cupped in stardust. Held in the darkest shadow. Kissed by a void softer than anything his body had known to exist. And when his flesh at last drifts back down to the ground, anchored by gravity, he opens his eyes and takes a long shuddering breath.
Robby re-solidifies before him, against him, along him, pressing down on him from above. He leaves a final lingering kiss on Atom's lips and draws back and—opens his eyes.
Atom blinks. And Robby blinks back. Two twin stars sit on his face in the place of eyes. Burning brightly, lighting up the room. Atom reaches up to touch his cheeks, enamored by the sight.
"What is this?"
What? Robby swipes two long hands across his face. His palms come away speckled in gold. Oh, he says. That's new.
"It's beautiful," Atom whispers. "You're beautiful."
The stars flare at Atom's words. Robby's body expels a pulse of warm dark mist. His fingers slide down Atom's neck. That was like nothing I've ever felt before.
"Same here. Believe me."
With hands made of flesh and blood Atom coaxes Robby down to lay beside him. His fingers wander and mingle with the hands of another, made of shadow and stardust. And he slips into a state so warm and precious, and so far from the chill of solitude, that it doesn't dare permeate his dreams. His body sings with light. And his mind cries with the taste of it.
-
HALF THE sky is purple when they stir from their hut. Pre-dawn light blankets the village in lavender paint, and the sunsinger has already begun their daily arrangement. Atom eats a filling meal while Robby goes through formal goodbyes with each of the weavers.
He later finds Atom at the river while he bathes. Atom watches him approach, noticing with no small amount of pleasure that his eyes still burn with the light of two new stars.
The weavers want to formally send us off. After that, we can go.
Atom dresses and follows Robby to the village. He remembers the first time he made this journey, only two days before. So much has changed in so little time. With a pang of sadness Atom realizes that he will miss the weavers, with their tightly knit community, delicious sludgy food, and daily songs.
Robby leads Atom to the small clearing in the center of the village, just outside the village elder's home, and kneels onto a rare dirt patch absent of any greenery. Atom follows suit and lowers his knees into the rich dark soil next to him.
With soft footsteps the weavers surround them, large baskets in each of their lanky arms. They climb atop each other's shoulders in stacks of two and form a ring around them. One opening remains in front of them, but not for long. The Old One fills the spot and from the folds of her robe she brings out a long wooden stick, perforated in precise increments down the length of it. She lifts it to her mouth and begins to play the hollow instrument. The other weavers build on the notes gradually with their voices, until the entire ring is an arena of sound. Atom feels the waves of their song underneath his skin, shaking him, swaddling him like the loving arms of a mother.
Then the rain begins. Blue petals cascade from each of their fingers, dancing in the air, blanketing Robby and Atom and the entirety of the clearing until there isn't a single empty patch left. As the last petal falls the choir dims and falls silent when it finds its place among its kin in the blue petal pool.
The weavers retreat, and Robby stands.
A crowd of them accompanies them to the ship, humming softly down the valley to the cliff face where Robby had hidden it from sight. Night is in full bloom when Atom climbs into the ship and slides his ID card into the main console. Robby heads to the back of the ship to suit up while Atom goes through pre-flight checks.
Within minutes the weaver planet falls behind as the ship shoots back into the careless vacuum of space. Atom's hands hover over the keyboard, hesitant on pulling up a view of the receding planet. Instead he pulls up the galactic star chart and routes their course to the galaxy center. He stays in his seat watching the distance grow minisculey smaller for hours. They're so close now. If they continue without making any more stops, they can easily reach the center within two weeks.
Two weeks until the end of everything.
His limbs are stiff but the aching has passed. With a clear head he assesses his surroundings.
The shallow pool appears unnaturally small, only large enough to hold the length of one man. Over a thin strip of land to his right is a much larger lake. All around and in every direction small blue-purple flowers grow out of deep brown soil. Their delicate petals float in the water around them, and fill the air with a cool gentle scent. The night air is warm on his exposed skin. Ash-blue clay forms to his body as his neck and chest begin to air dry. The ground underneath him in the pool is more plant than mud, and soft to the touch.
Beside the pool is an assortment of pastes and plants and vials. Robby lifts a jug of clear water to Atom's lips and he drinks, taking the jug from Robby to finish it off in big greedy gulps.
Setting the jug back onto the flowery shore, Atom notices a strange lumpy line on the back of his forearm. Upon closer inspection he finds three long lacerations from elbow to wrist embedded in his skin, and each crevice is packed full with dark green vines, and loosely stitched shut. Atom prods at one laceration and finds it perfectly numb. The same is true for his other arm.
He looks at Robby. Unable to even begin with questions.
To get rid of your fever, Robby says. It was a last resort. I will take them out now that you are better.
Atom's stomach churns at the thought.
You won't feel a thing. They absorb infection, and numb the surrounding area. I will be quick. Lie back.
Atom stares at him a moment longer, but ultimately lays back into the strange heated pool. Immediately it soothes him. He focuses on the stars while Robby does his work. After both arms are finished, he moves to his legs and Atom chances a peek to see the same marks carved into his one fleshy thigh.
"By the way, where is the ship?" Atom asks. Across the connection Robby shows him the image of a place nearby, a dark rocky overhang, and deep in its shadow sits the ship, undetectable by overhead radars. Atom drops his head back. "Ah. Good thinking."
His eyes droop closed and he feels exhaustion lap at his senses. Once his work is finished, Robby's hand checks his pulse and then rests on his chest. The touch soothes Atom even further. Tentatively Robby shows Atom flashes of just how dire his sickness was. Atom places his own hand over Robby's.
The shuffling of grass nearby drags Atom's eyes back open. It takes him longer than he likes to react.
With baskets in hand, three short creatures creep towards the pool on bare feet. Wraith-like in their thinness, they wear soft robes of earthy colors. Their faces are gray, and too wrinkled to make out any features. They do not speak but lower the baskets to the ground at Atom's side.
Natives of this planet. They bring food for you. It is safe for you to eat.
"Thank you." Says Atom. Robby reaches out to clasp one hand around the small fist of the nearest stranger. A silent exchange passes between them. A different stranger extends one lanky arm and rubs a leather-hard hand over Atom's skull. And then they retreat back up the hill they came down.
The food in the baskets turns out to be a variety of unappealing sludge, ranging in color from blue to red to reddish-brown but offering no variety in consistency. The smell is rich and pleasant, and Atom's stomach growls despite himself. He digs in with his fingers and polishes all three baskets in rapid succession.
The sun, when it rises, does not rise above the horizon. The sky glows purple in the eastern sky for a short time and then dims back to the black of night. It reminds Atom of home. But here it is warm enough for things to grow. And warm enough for Atom to walk naked down to a clear river cutting down the middle of the valley.
A mountain range rings around them in three directions. In the fourth, Robby tells him there is a steep cliff which leads to this planet's single ocean.
Against his sweating skin the river is glacier-cold. Atom bathes quickly, careful to mind the fresh stitches on his arms and leg. After drying he dresses in the clean Keeper jumpsuit Robby hands to him, and follows Robby to the village of natives nestled in a cushion of shrubbery upstream. During the walk Robby refers to them as Weavers, and explains how they are a long time friend to him and his kind. They agreed to house Atom through the rest of his recovery, however long it may take. Though Atom is eager to get back to his mission, he can't deny the toll taken on his body. And the opportunity to meet yet another race of non-Earth lifeforms is already more than he could ever have asked for.
The Weaver's homes are low, dome-like structures made of woven wood and vine. Each hut boasts its own garden beside it, growing all kinds of rich, healthy plants. Some bloom with colorful flowers, but most are leafy and green and bulbous. As they pass through the center of the village, each waver stands and watches. Robby briefly touches the heads of those within reach.
In the center of the village is a dome larger than the others. Not by much, but the layer of flowers growing over it like a blanket does much to signify its importance.
A weaver exits its door to meet them. This one is taller than the others, but still only meets Atom's chest. And Atom doesn't have much in terms of height to boast for. She touches Atom's scalp and shows them to an empty hut next door. Robby translates her intent, and explains that this is where they are welcome to sleep. Then Robby informs him that he has to converse with this woman, the village elder, for some time, Atom is left to explore the village on his own.
For some time the weavers remain curious of him, but eventually they return back to the task of gardening. Atom notices a row of them hauling water from the river in buckets to water their gardens, and offers to assist them, but they only stare at him blankly, so he takes up an empty bucket and falls in line.
The labor is brutal on his weakened muscles and Atom is grateful for it. He can't afford to let his body go weak. He carries bucket after bucket until the last garden plot is finished and the weavers guide him to a communal dining area, which consists of a leafy plot of land around a flat stone table. The table is covered in vegetables and roots and the weavers teach him how to choose his own ingredients and grind them up into a digestible paste.
Robby returns from his meeting as Atom finishes his dinner, and when Atom retreats to bed he follows. Atom observes him take his place on the woven mat beside him with curiosity.
"Do you ever sleep?" He asks.
I do not. But I may indulge in rest occasionally.
Atom falls asleep quickly, but is woken a short time later when his lungs decide to cause a ruckus in his chest and send him into an awful coughing fit. In the dark, Robby presses something to his lips that smells sour and brings tears to the corners of his eyes. He helps Atom drink the sticky concoction and soon the cough recedes. Hours later he wakes again to a different noise. Crouching at the opening of the hut Atom sleepily listens to the sound of a wordless song, drifting over the rooftops as the sky grows purple. He doesn't see the source of the singing but he remains awake until the brief daylight slips back to nightfall and the song ends.
That day he assists the weavers with the task of watering once more. When another coughing fit pulls him from the job early, a pair of them guide him into the thicket of a garden teeming with yellow-flowered plants and together teach him how to make the cough syrup from last night.
They instruct him to grind the largest of the yellow flowers into a shallow stone bowl. Then he shucks the nuts from the inside of the stem of a different plant and adds them into the mix. He learns that this is where the pungent smell comes from. Lastly he tears the leaves of a broad-leafed shrub onto the sludge and adds a splash of boiling water.
The syrup coats his throat and makes him drowsy, but it works quickly. The overhanging thicket chirps with insects and Atom idly wipes the sweat from his forehead. One of the weavers moves away to pluck at yellowing leaves while the other remains seated at his side.
"Have you seen my partner?" He asks him. The little weaver gazes back at him absently. Atom asks again and gets no reaction.
Cautiously he touches the back of the weaver's wrinkly hand with his bare fingers and empties his mind of everything but a clear image of Robby. The weaver hums and points his arm in a southern direction.
"Thank you." Says Atom, and sends a wave of gratitude through their joined hands, and exits the garden.
He follows a narrow path that leads him to the center of the village and no further clues to where Robby could be. He asks another weaver for directions and receives the same answer. Each weaver he passes points him further south from their village until the last one standing at the very edge of civilization leaps to her feet and guides Atom half a mile up the valley to a narrow crevice in the ground. The small weaver points down the crack, hoots, and runs back down the way she came. Curious, Atom crouches and attempts to see anything in the crevice, but without any trace of sunlight Atom sees nothing in the dark. He wonders if the little one played a trick on him, and considers walking back when a hand slides out of the darkness and the darkness seethes and rises and twists into a set of arms and legs and a body. Robby stands before him holding a cloth pouch. He holds it up with a slight shake.
Gathering seeds, says Robby. It is difficult for the weavers to reach the plants that grow in those depths. But it's no problem for me. Is everything alright?
"Yeah, I feel great. And more rested than I've felt in ages. But I must get back to my mission. I'm ready to leave when you are."
That is good to hear. Tomorrow, then. We will fly off.
"Tomorrow." Atom agrees.
Robby begins walking back to the village and Atom falls into step beside him.
"You said the weavers are a long-time friend of your people. And they seem fond of you. How many times have you been to this planet?"
This is my first time being here. I've heard stories, and always wanted to see it for myself. I'm glad I got the chance to, despite the unfortunate circumstance that brought us here.
"The weavers are... interesting." In the distance Atom sees the little weaver girl scampering back to her village. "You taught them your speech?"
My grandfather did.
"Can you teach it to anyone?"
Theoretically, yes. Though not every species is equipped to understand it, even if a connection is established.
"How many species have your people... connected with?"
Thousands.
Thousands. Thousands of intelligent lifeforms. Atom's pulse quickens with the thought. He hears the number but his mind struggles to believe it.
I have only met a handful of them. Some of them come to live on our planet, in small groups. Most of the planets I observe are empty. Life is still a rare phenomenon in this universe.
That is why I am glad to have met you. You are the first one I have ever given my speech to, he says.
Atom looks at him. "I'm sorry for trying to kill you when we met. I thought you were human. I thought—I never knew there were other beings in the universe. Meeting you has been... the most incredible thing. I want you to know that."
A gentle breeze catches his words and a visceral sadness grips Atom's throat. At the end of this mission he will be dead. His time with Robby is incredibly limited. It's an unfortunate thing to have only met him now, at the end of his life. If things had been different--
Atom stops his thoughts there. If things had been different, if he had never accepted this mission, he never would have met Robby. To know him now is a gift. One that he will cherish, to the end.
Robby looks at him, and reaches out, cupping his palm against the back of Atom's neck. His cold skin is a sweet relief against the humid air. It elicits a shiver from Atom.
He doesn't speak for the rest of the walk back to the village. When they near the first gardens, the weavers come out to greet them. They gather around Robby and hug his legs. He bends down to allow them to touch his head. Thin leathery knotted fingers caress his scalp. Then they lead him away, toward the seed library, and Atom helps prepare dinner.
After the meal, a group of a dozen or so weavers gather in a corner of the outdoor dining area and begin to sing. A harmonized chorus with few notes, but beautiful in its clarity. Atom remains in the field among them, watching them, listening well into the night. He doesn't notice Robby's absence until he comes back with a steaming cup in his hands. He places it on the soft grass in front of Atom's crossed legs. The sweet scented steam rising from the cup makes his mouth water.
"What is this?"
They call it Void-Bright. It is made from the flowers of the seeds that I gathered today. While I was down in the abyss I picked a few blooms as well. The tea made from its petals is said to taste like dreams.
"You've never tasted it?"
I have no sense of taste. If I touched it, I could draw you its molecular pattern. I am told taste is something different.
The tea on Atom's tongue tastes like a million colors. Some strange, some awful, some like the sweetest fruit. After a few sips, his mouth feels like mountain air. Wispy and full of moisture. Between sips he salivates for more. When the cup is empty he understands the level of gratitude expressed to Robby earlier for gathering more seeds for this plant. One could get addicted to this.
After washing his empty dishes in the river, Atom meanders to their hut with a belly full of warmth, and finds Robby already inside. In the dark, he is careful not to bump into him, and curls up on one side of the low space. But a stray thought pushes sleep from his mind.
"Are you awake?" He asks quietly.
Robby turns on his side to face him. Always, he says.
"I'm curious about something. All of the weavers know your language. Does this mean they each consumed the same thing you gave me?"
Not these weavers. The speech was given to their ancestors. Once you have swallowed it, the knowledge is fused with your cellular data. It is then passed down through childbirth. If you were to have a child, they would be born with the ability to Understand.
Atom shifts at the thought. But the information is interesting nonetheless.
"Hypothetically, if I were to have a child, could I talk to them telepathically? Like you and I?"
Somewhat. It wouldn't be as strong as when you and I talk. Some strong feelings might resonate. Nothing more.
"I see. Well, I won't ever get the chance to find out. I won't be going back to Earth. And even if I did... I don't lie with women."
A spark of something intense flickers from Robby, and as quickly as it comes it slips away as if it never happened. Atom blinks into the darkness.
Why is that? Robby asks, inflectionless.
"I like men, and I have no desire to procreate. Even with so few humans left... and with the urgent need to repopulate, biology still made me this way. Sometimes I think it's funny. Other times it feels like a blessing. A cosmic blessing. That I was meant to be this way, no matter the circumstances."
In the low light, Atom struggles to make out Robby's silhouette. "How do your people... couple?" He asks.
Cellular fusion.
"Of course."
Opposite molecule types attract, Robby elaborates. My mol is, as your species puts it, male. That is why I have taken this form. It is familiar to you. Otherwise we are indistinguishable in appearance. Our mol type only matters when it is time to couple.
"Is there any pleasure in it for you?"
Oh yes. Immensely.
Atom struggles to picture it. "But how exactly does it work?"
It is a complete sharing of two beings. Like when you and I share a thought. For a moment we are connected. Coupling is like that, but much more. Amplify that connection until our entire beings are joined. Each cell, side by side, he says.
Atom recalls how it felt when Robby first gave him his speech. How overwhelming it had been. But even the simplest thoughts had caused shock to his body back then. Now communicating with Robby feels as natural as breathing. He wonders what it would feel like now to engage in that level of connection. His pulse jumps at the idea.
Robby feels it. Atom knows he feels it.
If you would like, I could try to show you, he says, and suddenly sleep is the furthest thing on Atom's mind. The sound of his heart hammering against his chest, making its opinion known, echoes in the narrow space between their bodies.
"Show... If I..."
Robby's hand finds his skin, ghosting against the surface until it finds the pulsing center of his very being. The heat of the contact is almost searing.
And you can teach me... what brings you pleasure.
"It is a thing of flesh." Atom says, with half his mind. His other half has already gone elsewhere.
I can be flesh.
"I've noticed." Atom exhales. Robby drifts closer and Atom's hands find his face, cradling it, blindly guiding it toward his own. Robby's skin vibrates under his fingertips and against his palms. Vague human-like features greet his wandering hands. Every inch of him, shivering, and hotter than Atom has ever felt him.
How fortunate, that I too, prefer to couple with my mol mates.
Robby's lips against his own are smooth and hard at first. Bruising in their curiosity. But as they continue to kiss they soften and meld against Atom's until he is panting, laid out underneath Robby's body, a liquid mess entirely at the mercy of Robby's fire-hot hands. And Atom does as he's asked. He undresses, and guides Robby's wandering hands to where Atom needs them most. And he melts and melts and melts. Gasping, Atom falls back and waits for his mind to return to his head. With eyes half open he sees Robby sit up, fingers gliding in the mess on Atom's stomach.
Then Robby opens his mouth. Atoms knows this because from the parted lips of his wide open maw comes a soft white glow. It spills free, dripping down his chin and chest, luminescent and beautiful. It builds to a steady pour, and Atom props himself on one elbow to catch it in his palm. Lifting it to his face, he sees individual stars sparkling in the glowing substance. Slowly swirling.
Atom brings his hand to his lips and tastes it. Sweet airy nectar, more mist than moisture, drips to his belly. Metallic sugar clings to his mouth.
Atom brings Robby's lips back down to him and drinks from the source. After a while it tastes like iced honey, and any stray drops that slip from between them feel refreshingly cool against his sweating skin.
Once more he opens his body to Robby. And Robby opens his mind to Atom and Atom feels everything. He feels both larger than his body, and smaller than sand between Robby's encompassing hands. He feels his skin shifting, making room for Robby. And Atom's blood sings with the feeling of being inside Robby, of the clarity of pure connection, of this joining so whole and complete.
Bright warmth encompasses their being. Shivery warmth. Heat so severe their molecules tremble and dance and vibrate, overlapping, converging, gently brushing against each other. Heat that fills lungs, throat, and mouth. Heat that coats quivering bones, melting fingers, and dripping sweat.
Nails dig into skin and sink deeper beyond bounds. The world contained under his closed eyelids is white hot, orange and yellow on the edges. Beyond that is the purple blue blackness of space, enveloping him, suspending him in a pocket free of time. Cupped in stardust. Held in the darkest shadow. Kissed by a void softer than anything his body had known to exist. And when his flesh at last drifts back down to the ground, anchored by gravity, he opens his eyes and takes a long shuddering breath.
Robby re-solidifies before him, against him, along him, pressing down on him from above. He leaves a final lingering kiss on Atom's lips and draws back and—opens his eyes.
Atom blinks. And Robby blinks back. Two twin stars sit on his face in the place of eyes. Burning brightly, lighting up the room. Atom reaches up to touch his cheeks, enamored by the sight.
"What is this?"
What? Robby swipes two long hands across his face. His palms come away speckled in gold. Oh, he says. That's new.
"It's beautiful," Atom whispers. "You're beautiful."
The stars flare at Atom's words. Robby's body expels a pulse of warm dark mist. His fingers slide down Atom's neck. That was like nothing I've ever felt before.
"Same here. Believe me."
With hands made of flesh and blood Atom coaxes Robby down to lay beside him. His fingers wander and mingle with the hands of another, made of shadow and stardust. And he slips into a state so warm and precious, and so far from the chill of solitude, that it doesn't dare permeate his dreams. His body sings with light. And his mind cries with the taste of it.
-
HALF THE sky is purple when they stir from their hut. Pre-dawn light blankets the village in lavender paint, and the sunsinger has already begun their daily arrangement. Atom eats a filling meal while Robby goes through formal goodbyes with each of the weavers.
He later finds Atom at the river while he bathes. Atom watches him approach, noticing with no small amount of pleasure that his eyes still burn with the light of two new stars.
The weavers want to formally send us off. After that, we can go.
Atom dresses and follows Robby to the village. He remembers the first time he made this journey, only two days before. So much has changed in so little time. With a pang of sadness Atom realizes that he will miss the weavers, with their tightly knit community, delicious sludgy food, and daily songs.
Robby leads Atom to the small clearing in the center of the village, just outside the village elder's home, and kneels onto a rare dirt patch absent of any greenery. Atom follows suit and lowers his knees into the rich dark soil next to him.
With soft footsteps the weavers surround them, large baskets in each of their lanky arms. They climb atop each other's shoulders in stacks of two and form a ring around them. One opening remains in front of them, but not for long. The Old One fills the spot and from the folds of her robe she brings out a long wooden stick, perforated in precise increments down the length of it. She lifts it to her mouth and begins to play the hollow instrument. The other weavers build on the notes gradually with their voices, until the entire ring is an arena of sound. Atom feels the waves of their song underneath his skin, shaking him, swaddling him like the loving arms of a mother.
Then the rain begins. Blue petals cascade from each of their fingers, dancing in the air, blanketing Robby and Atom and the entirety of the clearing until there isn't a single empty patch left. As the last petal falls the choir dims and falls silent when it finds its place among its kin in the blue petal pool.
The weavers retreat, and Robby stands.
A crowd of them accompanies them to the ship, humming softly down the valley to the cliff face where Robby had hidden it from sight. Night is in full bloom when Atom climbs into the ship and slides his ID card into the main console. Robby heads to the back of the ship to suit up while Atom goes through pre-flight checks.
Within minutes the weaver planet falls behind as the ship shoots back into the careless vacuum of space. Atom's hands hover over the keyboard, hesitant on pulling up a view of the receding planet. Instead he pulls up the galactic star chart and routes their course to the galaxy center. He stays in his seat watching the distance grow minisculey smaller for hours. They're so close now. If they continue without making any more stops, they can easily reach the center within two weeks.
Two weeks until the end of everything.