January 2003

Item I - Item II

The two stood on the edge of a quiet cove, but they seemed concerned about something. I stood peering into the clear water, watching the colorful pebbles dance beneath the gentle ripples. I longed to feel the cool water on my feet, but as I approached the water, the man and I were cautioned by the woman. "I wouldn't get too close," she said. She was talking to him as I mirrored his actions, as if he and I were one somehow. But when I looked up he was standing some feet away. Still, we were linked somehow. She was right though - there did seem to be a nascent air of threat, and as I looked out over the water I saw a ghostly flash. The two people came together behind me and spoke in hurried tones about what they were witnessing. The man knelt and grabbed a handful of loam, examining it closely as he sifted through the rocks and grass. These were scientists then, here to figure out exactly what was haunting this cove. I turned back to the water, looking farther out for anything suspicious as the man described his findings. "It's spoor," he said, "made up of berries and various other things. Something isn't right about this - how did it get so far from the water?" I didn't understand what he was saying, but as a shadow form slipped by beneath the calm water my instincts urged me to back away. Somehow the more I retreated, the more easily the pieces fell into place for me, and I realized what was happening: It was a shark they sought, but this was a creature far more mobile, far more agile than they were prepared to deal with. I looked back at them, so close to the water's edge, and knew they were in danger. The water bulged suddenly and an impossibly sleek form burst forth and slithered up and around them like mercury. It truly seemed to move outside of time, its lines blurred to translucence. They were doomed, and it sickened me. I myself wasn't far enough away, and felt the menace clutch at my lungs as I tried to get as far away as possible.

Item I - Item II

I could hear the ceremony happening just outside in the main hall, and was glad not to be a part of it. The back room where I was hiding was empty, save for me, and I felt that I would be safe here until things out there had concluded. Soon enough though curiosity got the better of me, and I crawled out from beneath the wooden bench, the stone floor cold on my knees. Carefully I peeked around the doorway to the ceremony happening in the hall - perhaps the better to appreciate my freedom from it. People in colorful ceremonial garb made their way solemnly up the aisle - toward me - and I retreated to my hiding spot, lest I be discovered.

Just then I heard several brief sounds that seemed familiar to me, albeit entirely out of place here. The sounds were like high-pitched cymbal washes, or like droning wind-chimes. The sounds stopped for a moment, but then began again a few seconds later, like a radio searching for a remote station. I crawled back out and determined that the sounds were coming from outside. Peering around the door frame again, I could make out a gauzy light pattern coinciding with the sounds, a kind of spectral singularity hovering several feet above the floor of the nearest aisle. But before the phenomenon could establish any strength one of the people from the procession would invariably walk through it, snuffing it out like a weak flame. Some moments later it would begin again, slightly offset from where it was before, but with as little luck.

It was clear to me that someone was trying to teleport to this planet, but why did it not cause more of a stir outside? It was like I was the only one who could see it. Such things were better left to those who knew, and I retreated once more to the safety of my spot beneath the bench. Soon enough the persistence of the travelers was rewarded, and they materialized with little fanfare. I watched them from my low vantage point as they entered my hiding room and dropped their bags. Space rogues, I thought, for they looked it. Their dress was much plainer than the local fashion, but somehow more refined. The younger man was solidly-built, and had blond hair pulled back into a thin pony tail. The older man was smaller, thinner, and had shorter hair that was now more gray than blond. The latter, who seemed to be in charge, had a craggy face, and an apparently brittle temperament. The younger man was jovial, and could more than handle his elder. Together they went about unpacking their things, all the while bantering about their plans. I didn't understand most of it, but it sounded like they planned to blend into the local culture by setting up an art shop back here. The older man doffed his travel suit, revealing brightly-colored clothing beneath it. His slacks were light blue, and made from a silky material. His orange shirt was similar, and went well with the beaded chains around his neck. So he was the artist. The other man, I guessed, might be the pilot. How else would they have gotten here?

As the younger man continued to unpack, his eyes stopped on me, and he flashed a brief smile without making a comment. I felt no threat in these two, and allowed my curiosity to draw me out from beneath the bench as they unpacked their back of art supplies. Soon enough they finished unpacking, and left through a side door that emptied into the street outside. In the process of unpacking they'd built a sizable pile of items atop a worktable, which I hadn't noticed until now. The table itself belonged to the temple - but it didn't look out of place scattered with the exotic items they had brought. The top of the table was too high for me to see without standing, but its four edges curled down gently, like the head of a mushroom. On these round white surfaces I could see hundreds of hieroglyphics that had been painstakingly scrawled in graphite; hawks and palm fronts and little tunic-clothed people. The drawing instruments were kept in little baskets fastened to the table's corners, and I reached in and selected one for closer examination. The handle was like a little red archer's bow, just two inches long, that held secure a thin rod of graphite rather than a string.

A hearty laugh heralded the return of the two rogues, and I felt glad for it. The younger man chided his familiar, and said, "You're just as much of a drunk as you ever were!" The older man scowled, but there was no malice in it. It was true, I thought. I could see in his face that he liked the drink. But that's why they had come here: to start anew. I didn't know what the younger man's story was, but wished that I could stay with them both. They seemed much more entertaining than the things I was used to.