Ashe has a crush on an alien. More specifically, on the alien.
It's been a week since the end of the world, or so it had seemed at the time. Whole cities of people saw everything around them turn a little darker, looking to the sky and instead seeing an expanse of silver floating high above, a shape far too massive to see all at once, impossibly large and impossibly there! Then the screen had flickered - every screen, every phone, computer, tv, every electronic display in the entire world flickering and changing to show the face of the alien.
Most people saw the differences - the vibrantly blue skin, deeper purple around the sides of the neck. The slender antennae, rolling forwards into swirls above a smooth, hairless head. The dark, slightly faceted eyes, flashing tiny hexagons where they caught the light.
But what Ashe saw was not the differences! She saw the lips, violet and glossy, their curve gleaming as the beautiful woman smiled, her star-speckled cheeks dimpling ever so slightly. Ashe remembered the beautiful harmonies of the alien woman’s voice, the sound filling her with a tingling warmth from the first ‘Hello’ to the last, earnest reassurance that they came in peace.
Yet more important than the arrival of intelligent alien life, than the world not actually ending, than anything else at all - much more importantly, Ashe was head over heels for the beautiful, smiling leader of the alien Travellers, who had said her name was:
“One,” Ashe whispers the name covertly under her breath, keeping it close as a precious secret.
“Pardon, miss?” she startles at the voice of the Traveller standing before her, antennae perked up with interest. The hostess’ voice is as pretty as she is, faceted eyes full of earnest concern, “Is there anything you needed, miss?”
“Oh, nothing, I... sorry,” Ashe stammers, unconsciously playing with the silver safety belt holding her in her seat. “Um… thank you.”
“You’re welcome, miss,” the Traveller beams, straight antennae folding down again as her concern settles into a pleasant smile. “We’ll be docking on Mothership One soon, so if you need anything, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
The hostess continues down the wide aisle of inward facing seats, her glossy white uniform the same spotless tone as the curved walls, ceiling, floor and chairs. The universal cleanliness makes the seated group of humans look positively grubby by comparison, but the Traveller regards each and every one with individual care, causing more than a few blushes in the process.
Ashe smirks to herself. Yes, the hostess is pretty - it seems all Travellers are. But none are as radiant as One.
Ashe remembers with intensity the first time she’d heard the name, able to put a name to the feeling swelling in her chest as she saw One’s smile lighting up the world. And in the days that followed came more messages, more reassurances. More smiles.
She knows she’s obsessed. Classic parasocial relationship, her psych lecturer would say, imagining a personal relationship with someone who doesn’t even know you exist. And that makes it easier in a way, knowing she and One will never possibly meet, letting Ashe hold on to her private crush of the utterly unattainable, knowing it’s unreal and stupid and impossible but feeling it anyway so strongly it hurts!
It had helped to write it down. She’d tried writing erotica before, but it always felt so forced, so mechanical. Not this time though, every word came unbidden, so earnest and real, every description so intricate and tangible she could almost taste it, feel herself really being there through a week of sordid fictional affairs, moving at the mercy of the tender, teasing and talented touch of her fictional One.
Ashe’s cheeks are burning. She notices her skin is flushed, her pulse and breathing deep. And between her legs, a clear sense of imminent… stiffening.
Ashe shuts her eyes tightly, taking slow, deliberate breaths. She can feel, all too clearly, the silky fabric of her shirt and skirt flush against her too hot skin. These are her best clothes, their elegant cut now utterly stifling her! But she had to dress up - she is one of the very first humans allowed to tour an alien mothership! She is a representative of the entire human race, and so she absolutely cannot get a hard on right now!
So instead she breathes, slowly, in spite of the pounding in her chest. She fights for determined calm, forcing herself to think of something else, anything else.
“Drink miss?” she jumps at the hostess before her again, offering down a tray of tall, white... cups? They look like glasses, feel like cold glass in her hand. Ashe focuses on that and tries to slow her heart as she mumbles thanks to the smiling hostess, wondering if her cheeks look as hot as they feel.
The hostess beams at her and proceeds down the isle, offering the tray of drinks with both hands while keeping her four other hands tucked behind her back. That had been a surprise, Ashe thought, regarding the six slender arms, noting the three fingers of a hand offering a glass to a particularly shy passenger. The broadcasts of One had focussed on her face, with the first wider shots coming from news coverage of One shaking hands at the UN, the reporters joking about how many hands she could shake at once. But instead One had given every leader individual attention, her language and mannerisms changing effortlessly each time she strode to a new person.
The legs were different too, the ‘feet’ just as long as the calves and just as slender, ending in two long, segmented blue digits. They look almost too dainty, like they couldn’t possibly hold up the hostess as she effortlessly balances her tray down the isle, making her look a little like she’s floating on air. There’d been more than a few questions about whether Travellers hid wings under their uniforms, a possibility Ashe had explored both sides of in her writing, along with the many, many uses of three pairs of arms in her growing collection of private fantasies.
Well, not so private anymore.
She feels her heart sink again, the same sickening dread she’d felt when she’d come home, found her laptop still open where she’d left it on the kitchen counter, a post-it note from her housemate announcing the hilarious prank of having posted her fanfiction online.
They were not housemates any more.
But then Ashe remembers the next day, in the aftermath of the fight and in a conspicuously emptier house, finally building up the nerve to find where her stories had been posted, finding them surprisingly easily, feeling the growing dread as she scrolled down over all her stories, every single fantasy, every one… with hundreds of thousands of hits, some substantially more. The numbers just didn’t make sense, no sense, that many people, but no matter how many times she refreshed the page to fix the erroneous numbers, they just grew larger instead!
But it was just her silly stories, her private stories, her own little fantasies and wishes and dreams, being read by... millions of people, her mind still resists thinking the unreal number. And her readers liked it too, really liked it, so many kudos and shares and comments of the most ardent praise, quoting their favourite parts, saying how they wished they could write their fantasies but were glad that Y31hsa had done it for them. That was the username her now ex-housemate had posted it under, Ashley’s full name backwards. She didn’t hate it.
Her heart is still hammering, with dread, anger, pride, she can’t tell anymore, the drink in her hands feeling almost frigid against her hot skin. The drink - she takes a deep drink of the orange liquid, surprised to find it’s orange juice. She was expecting something more... alien. Do they have oranges in space? Space oranges? Or did they just want to ease them into things with a human drink? Either way, she feels a lot cooler.
And as if this week hadn’t been surreal enough, this morning Ashe found she’d won the lottery, literally - she’d be one of the first randomly selected humans to tour the alien mothership! She hadn’t even remembered entering any lotteries - did you have to enter? Had it been automatic, a show of goodwill and transparency between humans and Travellers?
Either way, Ashe and her motley tour of humans are now the first ones on their way to Mothership One, an alien vessel floating above their city! What waited inside? Will One be there?
Ashe’s heart does a somersault. Having a crush on someone you’d never meet was one thing, but then actually meeting her... AND WHAT IF SHE KNEW?! No, no she couldn’t know, couldn’t, there’s no way Ashe would be on this shuttle if One knew of, and knew the writer of the suddenly popular “One Drive” fantasies, as the ever creative internet had dubbed them. Could Travellers even use the internet? And what’s more, Ashe thought with equal relief and disappointment, One probably isn’t even on this mothership! There are identical ships floating over a thousand cities all across the globe, so what are the chances their leader would be on this one?
One thousand to one, her brain answers, one thousand to one that One would be on this one. She giggles at the whimsical thought, realising she's giddy, yet another feeling to add to the maelstrom of emotions she’s trying to keep from bursting out of her chest. But she’s excited, so excited, even without the wonderful, dreadful possibility of meeting One. She’s going to set foot on an alien spaceship! She looks around the white interior of the shuttle, wishing again there were windows of any kind so she could see where they -
“We’re here,” beams the Traveller hostess from the front of the shuttle, sparking a sudden murmur of excitement amongst the tour guests. There's a sense of growing weight, like an elevator slowing to a stop. The ambient hum of the shuttle’s engines whine and die, followed by a hissing sound as a round door opens to a world of light just before the smiling hostess. “Welcome, all, to our home!”
The shuttle is filled with excited murmurs and the sound of mechanical clicking. The silver belts that had held everyone to their seats unfasten all at once, letting the crowd of humans stand uncertainly, and be coaxed towards the front. Each and every person takes their turn gasping as they look out the open door, stepping wide eyed into another world! All except Ashe.
Ashe is still in her seat, pulling with mounting concern at her still fastened belt. It remains locked across her chest and hips, refusing to let go no matter which angle she pulls. Is there a button, or a control she's meant to press? What is she doing wrong?
“Um, I can’t -” she begins, interrupted by a hissing sound that makes her look up, seeing the shuttle door easing closed.
Her heart drops. Ashe looks around the empty shuttle, the only one left aboard.
No comments:
Post a Comment