Razul speaks, and I reach toward my translator, but he pins my arm to my side.
I relax and listen to the tones of his voice. I don’t understand what he says… but I also do. He’s reminiscing. Speaking with affection of his daily routines. Telling me about the desert he loves so much.
Why, though? When he knows I can’t parse the words?
It’s the same reason I used to talk to the office fish when I fed them, back in my database maintenance job. Why, even back on Earth, I would chat with the stray cats I offered little bits of my tuna sandwich to at lunchtime.
Companionship. Affection. Love poured out on a creature for no reason other than it exists, and it’s there, and you find it cute.
Emotion tightens in my chest, and I can’t tell if it’s relief or fear.
Somewhere in the sky, beyond this blazing sunrise, photons that once bounced off of Earth still journey through space. And somewhere in this desert, beyond the warm wall of Razul’s chest that holds the night’s chill at bay, is a space-time telescope that may be able to find a few of those photons. A trace of something that no longer exists.
A trace ofhome.
I’ve hardly let myself think that word in twenty years.
Tears spill down my cheeks, but my breath doesn’t catch. It finds the rhythm of Razul’s, slow and steady. His heart beats behind me, and I tuck my ear against its gentle pulse as his fingers play through my hair.
I could ask about the telescope, but doing so would require a pause in this game that we’re playing.
I don’t want to pause. And, more surprisingly, I find I don’t really want to see the telescope, either. A glimpse of wavering light won’t bring Earth back. And, if I’m honest with myself, I lost my sense of home even before the cataclysm. The people who were supposed to nurture me hardly cared if I lived or died, let alone how I felt.
But Razul cares.
And his pulse and his warmth are a lot more present, a lot more real than a few stray photons.
Still, do I really belong here? Will Razul truly want this arrangement long-term when I have so little to offer?
Only one thing is certain: I’m here now. Wrapped in Razul’s arms, surrounded by his breath and pulse, watching a flood of light climb its way up the violet sky…
I want to tell him I appreciate this comfort. I want to ask him how he feels about the trial period: How is it going? What questions and concerns does he have, and how might I address them?
I look up at his face, gilded by the rising sun. The cut of his jaw makes my stomach go tight, and his eyes seem to glimmer with endless depths, as if they contain galaxies.
And then I suddenly realize: Razul has already given me the answers I seek.
His heart beats steadily, unburdened by concern, and his brow remains soft, unbothered by questions.
He senses my gaze and looks down at me, expression as warm as the dawn’s gentle rays.
Emotion overwhelms me again at the intensity of being perceived, and as a blush rises to my cheeks, I bury my face in my hands.
He chuckles and ruffles my hair, then gently presses me to his chest. I sink into his warmth again, and as his voice rumbles beneath me, my anxiety melts away like fog at daybreak.
We watch the sunrise until the dawn light covers the flowing dunes.
Razul presses me to his chest as he stands, then takes flight. He heads to an area downriver of his home, pausing by a broad wooden structure on the riverbank.
As best as I can tell, the structure operates like some kind of elevated chicken coop for bristly, dog-sized animals that graze on potted cactuses. They look like a cross between a porcupine and a peccary, with small faces and squinty eyes. Razul carefully selects a few animals from the group.
When I understand where this is going, I duck my head into the sling, tucking against Razul’s chest and listening to his heartbeat.
The death of the prey is silent, which means it’s painless.
Razul takes flight again. When I hear the sound of sneezing and tails slapping against sand, I peek out to see the herd of caimites eagerly awaiting their food. They stand in a circle, jostling each other and flicking their powerful tails, but they wait patiently for Razul without snapping at him or the prey animals.
Razul speaks to them the same way he speaks to me. They blink and rhythmically tap the ground in response.
