Amy Thomson - The Color of Distance

“No, Anito, you’re too weak. Drink first, and eat.” Ninto turned to the new creature. “Bring food and water,” she said in large, plain words.

The new form of her name struck her like a blow. She couldn’t accept the fact that she was an elder. She still thought of herself as Ani.

The new creature got up and brought over a leaf cone full of mushed kayu, and a large gourd of water. Washes of blue and black and green flickered over its skin as it handed the water to her.

Ani took the gourd and drank deeply. She was extremely thirsty. There was very little left for her to wash with, but she poured it over her head anyway, washing away a little of the rank smell of sickness. She handed the gourd back to the new creature, thanking it as though it could imckistand. To her surprise, the creature responded with a garbled wash :i colors.

Ani gestured at the creature. “Why does it keep changing colors like aiai ?” she asked Ninto.

“It’s trying to talk. It’s very intelligent, you know. All the time you were sick, it watched over you. It copied what I was doing, and I let it :ake over since it was so capable. It bathed you and changed your bedding «r‹en it got foul. It even warmed you with its body heat while I was linked *~th you. It helped save your life.”

Ani looked at the new creature, and it offered her the leaf cone full of —ush. Ani took it with* nod, and began to eat. She felt vaguely embarrassed by the new animal’s help. It was her atwa now. She should be taking care of it, not the other way around. She flickered her thanks, and the creature flushed blue with pleasure, and then began that incoherent flickering again.

“It understands!” Ani said.

“It knows a lot of words,” Ninto said. “It was a game we played while you were sick. I’d make pictures on my skin and then show it the pattern. Then I’d tell the creature to bring me whatever it was that I asked for. It learns quickly. Now eat. You need your strength.”

The sweet mush was nutritious and easy to digest. Ani could feel energy coursing through her blood before she finished it. The new creature supported her while she relieved herself into a wide round gourd. Her wastes were thick and strong-smelling, full of sickbed poisons. The new creature covered the gourd with a lid and set it aside. Then it brought over a huge, brimming gourd full of fresh water, and held Ani upright while Ninto and Baha sluiced water over her.

Even the mild exertion of standing left Ani shaking and lightheaded with fatigue. The new creature picked her up as easily as though she were a basket of feathers, carried her to a freshly made bed of leaves, laid her on it, and piled the leaves over her. The new creature’s strength startled her. It was easy to forget how strong it was.

“Sleep, Anito,” Ninto said. “You’re through the worst of it, but it will take several days for you to recover.” She shook her head. “I’ve never seen anyone have such a hard time during werrun.”

My name is Anito, I am an elder now, she thought, but she was too tired to speak. Anito closed her eyes and fell into a deep, profound sleep.

The next few days were a round of sleep, food, and water. Always when she awoke, the new creature was waiting by the bed. Once, Anito woke in the middle of the night to find the creature asleep on the floor beside her. The new animal’s patient concern puzzled Anito. There was no reason for it to do this. Anito had treated the creature with disdain and active hostility before she had undergone werrun.

Anito was now indebted to the creature. It was an obligation that she hated. As soon as she was able to travel, she would take the creature back to its own people. Then she would have discharged her obligation to the new creature, and be able to return to the village and choose another atwa.

Juna heard a rustle at the door, and looked up. Knot came in, followed by its apprentice, whom Juna referred to as Bird, because its name sign resembled a bird. Their gathering bags bulged with fruit, greens, and meat. They unloaded their bags and sat beside Spiral’s bed.

Knot examined Spiral, running a hand over its torso, gently pinching a fold of skin. Juna leaned forward, eagerly watching for some sign of recovery. Then the alien linked with Spiral. It broke out of the link, ochre in color, and motioned to its apprentice. They talked for a few moments. Then Knot motioned to Juna to lie next to Spiral in bed. Spiral’s skin felt icy cold. Juna curled around the alien’s body, warming it. Knot piled the warm, moist leaves over them, and then linked with its apprentice and Spiral.

It was a long link; Spiral twitched several times, moving its head as though questing for something in its sleep. It chittered, and then lay still for a few moments, breathing heavily, then let out a long, low moan, and lay still, its breathing quiet and calm. Knot and its apprentice unlinked.

“Food,” Knot said, in response to Juna’s attempts to ask how Spiral was. “Need food. Talk later.”

Juna helped Bird prepare and serve the food. The two aliens ate a huge meal. As they were finishing up, a rustling came from Spiral’s bed.

Spiral’s eyes slid open. Juna leaned forward, her heart leaping with sudden hope. Spiral tried to sit up. Juna slid an arm around the alien’s shoulders and helped it sit; then Knot sent Juna for food and water.

Juna brought a gourd of water and a rolled leaf full of mush. She wanted to let Spiral know that she was glad it was awake, but her skin produced only meaningless blotches of color. Spiral drank and washed, then handed the gourd back to Juna, thanking her. Juna tried to reply and failed. Spiral lifted its ears and drew back its head in surprise.

Spiral turned and said something to Knot. Juna recognized the name sign they had given her, but the rest was incomprehensible. Knot replied. Spiral lifted its ears even higher, turning a deep, surprised purple. It gave Juna a long, considering look. She offered Spiral the leaf cone full of mush. It took the cone from her and ate greedily.

When Spiral finished the mush, Juna helped the alien relieve itself, and bathe. Then she picked Spiral up and carried it over to a fresh pile of leaves. The alien was as light as a small child, despite the fact that it was only a few inches shorter than Juna. She remembered how light her mother’s body had been after she had died from malnutrition and cholera. She had looked like a bundle of sticks held together by skin. For a moment, Juna was angry at the alien for living when so many people she cared about had died.

The alien recovered rapidly. Three days after Spiral awoke, the alien told her that they would leave in another couple of days, and took her down to the storerooms to collect the supplies needed for the trip. Juna was busy filling gathering bags with packets of dried food when Spiral pulled the helmet from Juna’s suit out from under a pile of gourds. Juna stared at it in disbelief for a few seconds. She had thought it was rotting in the jungle where she had collapsed.

She turned to Spiral, and flushed a deep purple. She pointed at the helmet, then gestured to the rest of the storeroom. Spiral watched her, head cocked, ears spread wide. Finally it flickered understanding, and tossed aside more dried grass. Underneath was Juna’s suit. She lifted it up and examined it. It was beyond repair, sliced to ribbons and covered with mold, but it reminded her of all she had left behind. Tears welled up. Juna dropped the suit, then knuckled away the tears before they could spill down her face. The salt in her tears stung her fingers, and she put them in her mouth. The minor annoyance served as a poignant reminder of how alien her body had become.

Spiral held out Oliver’s helmet and suit. Juna picked them up, remembering Oliver’s collapse, his breath wheezing in and out of his lungs. What had happened to him? Could he still be alive?