Fiction

Eye Singers

by Guy Stewart

 

"IN THE SAME WAY YOU PLAY MUSIC ALONE, AS HALF OF A DUO OR AS THE MEMBER OF AN ORCHESTRA, SO YOU CAN JUGGLE ALONE OR WITH A PARTNER OR AS PART OF A GROUP­MAKING MUSIC FOR THE EYES." ­CHARLIE HOLLAND, CENTURY XX.

 

"You could have started the very war we're here to avert!" shouted the Second Assistant to Human Ambassador Coregidor Tudela.

 

"But all I did was wipe my face..." pleaded Dorian Rastelli.

 

"All? All?!" Korman Yates sputtered. "We don't even know HOW the Zils think - let alone what they think of us! Wiping your face on you sleeve might be an obscene gesture!"

 

Dorian opened his mouth, then closed it with a snap. He'd been just as stunned as everyone else when the four-armed, bat-like Zilan ambassador and his eight partners had leaped to their feet. They'd hooted, squeaked, yowled and hung from the rafters like a zoo full of monkeys after he'd wiped his face.

 

Korman shook her head, closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Maybe it had something to do with them giving us the uniforms." They were made of heavy brocaded material- stiff, dark and hung with a dozen metal chains each. In the stifling heat, humidity and sulfur-tainted air of the Zilan homeworld, most of the Humans felt like they were wearing personal saunas in Hades. Dorian said, "I apologize, ma'am. May I wipe my face now?" She glared at him, then gestured curtly.

 

He dragged his hand over the rivulets of sweat running from his forehead. Even with his red hair in a crew cut, with undress shorts and light shirt, he was sweltering. "You're on twenty-four hour continuous duty in the Star Garden, Rastelli. Starting immediately. Dismissed." She fixed him with a hard stare and added, "If we go to war in the next 24 hours, you will remain at your post. Do I make myself clear?"

 

Dorian swallowed hard, nodded, spun on his heel and headed out of the ambassador's suite.

 

"Hey, Dot! Catch!" someone shouted from one side.

 

Dorian turned in time to catch a brown, bread-like fruit. It was one of the only Zilan foods Humans could eat. Four others quickly followed in succession. Without thinking, he began tossing them in the air.

 

"I still can't believe how easy that is for you," said Tyrel Daboh. The tall, lanky man ducked as he passed under a Zilan arch.

 

Dorian gathered the roundish breadfruit and handed two back to Tyrel. "It keeps my hands quick and my brain from dying of boredom in this job." He bit into the brownbread. It tasted of roasted peanuts and sweet oatmeal. "I've got 24 long ones in the Star Garden. Starting now."

 

Tyrel groaned. "Just for wiping your face?"

 

Dorian shrugged. "You saw how the Zil reacted. At least Korman didn't bust me back up to the McCauliffe."

 

"That would have been cruel and unusual punishment - even if this place does smell like a backed-up sewer. Do you have to wear The Uniform?"

 

"She didn't say. But since that was what started the trouble in the first place, I'll stick with HE&E issue."

 

Tyrel nodded, then waved. "I'll be in the rec. center - cool and dry and out of this hot soup."

 

Dorian headed to his room. It was on the second floor of the 30-meter-tall, leafy, domed buildings the Zillived in. A thick, smooth palm trunk grew up through the middle of each structure. Each of two floors was divided into four rooms with plenty of places to hang - and few places to lie down.

 

He shucked his undress khaki and pulled on an overall. He plopped on his gold beret, adjusted his communit then belted his stunner to his waist.

 

The Star Garden was a four-pointed star paved with pinkish gravel and filled with thousands of elaborate plantings. The Negotiation Dome was at the center of it. At the tip facing the setting sun was an immense bush covered with tiny blue flowers. Since the talks had started, one Human and one Zil stood guard over it.

 

Dorian saluted the Human standing duty and said, "I'm taking over, Casso Korman gave me 24-hour duty."

 

Cass Beidelman returned the salute and nodded. "I heard you wiped your face on the fancy duds. Too bad you didn't get busted upstairs. See ya," she called as she hurried off. Her coverall was dark brown and soaked with sweat.

 

"Thanks," Dorian said to the retreating figure.

 

He glanced at his Zil counterpart. The Zils had once been flyers with two wings, two arms and two legs. But the brains of the aliens had grown so large that they'd lost the sky long, long ago. What remained of the original flight membrane had become nearly transparent and veined. It was attached to a ridge at the crown of the broad skull. A flap ran from the head to a clawed finger of each long, jointed upper arm. From the second finger, the membrane trailed in silky folds to where it attached behind the knees. The middle or regular arms sprouted from a double shoulder bone and ended with paired thumbs and fingers.

 

The Zil guard bowed, thin lids sliding over its large, round pale eyes in greeting. Dorian nodded.

 

They stood silently as the sun flushed the clouds every imaginable shade of red. Lights came on in the Negotiation Dome, but only faint voices drifted out from open arches.

 

The Zil was relieved shortly thereafter. Its replacement stood at sharp attention until the other was gone. Then it pulled out a brownbread from a chest pack and bit into it.

Dorian glanced over. His stomach rumbled. The Zil stopped chewing and reached into the sack with all four arms.

 

Abruptly it tossed four brownbreads to Dorian. Startled, he caught them by tossing

them in the air, setting up easy outside circles.

 

The Zil stared, its sharp-toothed mouth agape.

 

Tossing two of the fruits high in the cooling night air, Dorian took a bite out of a brownbread.

 

The Zil hissed. It quickly took two more fruit from its pack. With a flourish, it began to

juggle, too! The Zil kept the fruit in the air using only one of its four hands.

 

 "An alien juggler, eh?" said Dorian, grinning. "Who'd have thought it?"

 

The Zil squeaked, then motioned with its head.

 

Dorian held his breath, then tossed the Zil one of his brownbreads. The Zil worked it into a cascade of three, then whistled four times. Turning to face the alien, Dorian coordinated the timing of their patterns.

 

They showered first, then did thirds. The alien held its two lower arms back.

Dorian laughed. The Zil hissed.

 

Human shouts, screams and cursing mixed with Zilan hoots, squeaks and yowls erupted from the Negotiation Dome at the center of the Star Garden.