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3. DNA; What In This World?

I feel the touch on my shoulder.

I open my eyes. Tinunh's smiling face, head tilted to the right, the angle of mine, lying on my left side, her golden irises, flickering. Her bushy hair falls over her face. She catches it, pushes it back, exposing her grin, perfect white teeth. She says... something.

I feel the chill of the air on my face, around my neck. It's not cold, just cool. She murmurs something, moves toward the bathroom.

I spin to sit on the side of the hollow where I made my sleeping bag bed. Some of the straw falls to the floor and I want to clean it up. I stand, turn, scoop it up in both hands, toss it back at the foot of my sleeping bag. I feel... irrational. Does... this... make sense?

I look toward the bathroom as Tinunh walks that way. Tinunh pulls her tunic over her head. She's naked! Perfect little butt worthy of a stare! No stinger.

She turns to drape her dress on the bed hollow. I can't help but look at... her small mounds of breasts, a darker hue to the nipples. They're breasts, nipples; not the flat-chested form of a human child that... age... that size. She... her body is...the figure of an mature adult.

Her vagina! Oh! Like a Human's. A silky patch of brown hair. I... I... can't look away.

"Tinunh!"

Eenunh has come up the ramp with me unaware, staring at her naked child. She... seems to... to scold her. Tinunh looks at me. I turn away.

She was totally unashamed, or... maybe just... unaware. I don't know. I'm... freaking out.

I hear them talk as Tinunh goes on about her business, getting a towel, finally into the bathroom and closes the door. I didn't... couldn't... stop staring. I can't get the images out of my head. Maybe... maybe... she's... older than a human child that size. But... she had... pubic hair... that I could see from this angle, and... the... details of her... I... I don't know. Perhaps they're just... different in sexual... maturity than humans. I... I'm weirded out! I look across the room see the light change where Eenunh has gone back down the ramp.

I stand and stretch, put my hands on the curvature of the ceiling over the bed hollow, arch forward. I think I slept well. I don't remember my dreams. I slept in my jeans and a shirt. I put on the same socks, work shoes. Sit on the side of the bed hollow, hang my head, half doze.

Tinunh comes out, dressed, says something. Eenunh's voice calls from below. Tinunh replies, looking at me, head toss, and goes down the ramp.

I splash water on my face at the sink. No mirror. I brush my teeth. I decide not to shave. I don't shave every day. I have a beard started, about a half inch long already, from trying to conserve water in the barracks pod... after... they... left me.

As I cross the room I become aware of the rumble of the thunder. Still? Yes. Still. Going down the hall ramp it is louder, unmistakable. I cross the living room, glance toward the kitchen, go straight to the passage sloping down from the right corner. I hear them buzzing in the kitchen. Down at the end the door is on my right. I operate a lever like the one on the front of the apartment... but... this is a door hinged on the left, arched at the top, like the bathroom door, but hinged on the left. I open it just enough to get blasted by the noise, misted by the blowing rain and water running down the face of the cliff. Yes. It's the balcony. There are chairs out there. The blowing turbulence, the constancy of lightning and thunder continue, are... continuous. The wind sucks the door closed. I hear it latch.

I come back up the passage to the living room. I see from that angle, over the low wall, through the long opening, Eenunh in the kitchen. I cross along the outer wall, cross between two lily-paddy chairs, past the low central table, where "To Kill A Mockingbird" is laying, walk between two more lily pad chairs, over to the inner wall and up the short ramp to the kitchen.

She smiles at me, flickering irises, no vocalization. She's busy with bowls. She turns and points to the table. I sit where I sat last night. Whatever she's doing, mixing in a pan on a surface there next to the sink, she's stirring in it, her body vibrating with the rapid motion of her right arm. My eyes fall on her back and shoulders, her slimmer waist, the flare of her hips. I can't help but reimage Tinunh's body in Eenunh. I wonder if Humans and these... things... could... mate. I have to look away.

Across the low wall that separates the higher kitchen level from the lower living room I see light around the window closure out in the window passage on the left end of the living room. I wonder at the crude dwelling, in contrast to the seeming technology, hot water plumbing, whatever that hot and cold capability in the kitchen counter is. The crude lighting is obviously some natural luminescence that responds to motion in proximity. Eenunh's work at the sink has it glowing, silhouetting her form.

Asking, again, an impossible conversation.

Tinunh goes out of the kitchen, down into the living room, away, up to the bed-hollow room, I guess, comes back, all grins, flickering eyes. No conversation. I'm really self-conscious looking at Tinunh. Her mother looks toward her, back to her work. The mixing done she opens the warm lid, sets the bowls in. Tinunh sits. There are sporks in the middle of the table. Eenunh leans against the counter, smiles at Tinunh, smiles at me. She crosses her arms, pulling her dress tight across her chest. I can see the outlines of an undergarment, down the front of her dress, a strap exposed at the neck opening. Suddenly I'm obsessed with knowing what her body looks like! I lift my thoughts to wondering about their DNA. Do they have DNA? Living things, even on this planet, probably have DNA. They seem to have reproductive organs, male and female genders. I wonder if anyone's ever been here before to ask and answer such questions. Earthmen keep secrets about what they find out in the galaxy.

The Deutche L. A. crew were all commercial interests. I never saw or heard anyone express any scientific curiosity beyond the mining. In fact, conversations I listened to showed a shocking lack of education among some of them. They argued about whether a star is a planet. All many were interested in was we're supposed to get some percentage of whatever profit we bring back. The percentage depends on the profit.

If I ever get back. I wonder if Briggs will come back, whether he knew he was leaving me behind, or no one pointed it out. I know Patrick didn't point it out. No. With our private rooms no one had to notice I wasn't there at my bunk that night. Even in the close quarters of the barracks pod, people tended to leave each other alone in their rooms. Someone should have noticed I wasn't there to pack my stuff, to do my jobs on the shuttle, on the D. L. A., checking hatches, securing panels, doors, loose items. The bastards left me!

Eenunh turns, puts the glove on her right hand and lifts a bowl out of the warmer. She sets it in front of Tinunh. Tinunh's eyebrows go up, looking and grinning at me. She reaches for a spork, just out of reach. I push it toward her. Irises flicker, white teeth gleam. She's so cute! Eenunh turns and brings out another bowl, for me. And a third for herself, closes the lid. She points at the cooler, opens it, looking at me, lifts one of my food packets, as if to ask if I'd prefer them. I figure I'll take a chance on whatever this brown cake-looking thing in the bowl is. It smells like ginger-cake. I wave my left hand in a gesture intended to decline. She closes the lid, sits. Tinunh has cut a bit of the 'cake' and put it in her mouth. She chews, so cute, an ever-present smile. Irises flicker.

I focus on my own, cut a piece loose, put it in my mouth. It's warm. It tastes like gingerbread. As I chew it sort of melts and I swallow. We go on eating. Each time I look at them they're looking at me. I keep my eyes down as I finish, letting them have a good look. I've had a good look at them but want to see more. Their ears are like mine. Their eyebrows, noses, lips, like mine, only that green tint, lips a little darker... like... nipples. I see clavicles, ribs, feet and hands like my own. I noted the three-segment bones of Eenunh's fingers when she rested them on the bottle last night. I think the bones obey the Golden Ratio, the Fibonacci Sequence. I see the fingernails are not thin but clawlike... not... super... animalish... but... stronger.

I finish as Tinunh does. Her mother continues to eat, eyes down. Tinunh comes around the table, peeps into my empty bowl, looks at me, irises flicker, a squinty smile, and takes my bowl and spork. She draws water at the sink, just tall enough to tiptoe and reach over in it. She sets her clean bowl and the one Eenunh mixed in to the side, leaned against the back wall of the counter. She turns to take her mother's bowl, waits while Eenunh finishes last bites, washes it.

Eenunh rises, motions to me. I get up and follow her. She goes to the living room, pushes the two lily pad chairs that are by the inner wall close together and settles into one, gesturing me to the other. The thunder rumbles, muted outside. She picks up the book, leans close to me and runs her fingers over the embossed words on the slick paper cover. I pronounce the title. She points to the smaller letters of the author's name. I pronounce it. There's a picture on the cover, two-fifths filled with a tree with a knothole, a ball of twine, and a pocket-watch in the hole, the other three fifths a bird silhouetted in flight against a blue sky, a nearly 'full' new moon with just a perfect circle of limn light around it, some dark trees on the horizon.

She opens the book, I repeat the title. I turn the page... But she points to the bar code on the inside cover. There are two, one about 3/4 of an inch wide, one about an 8th of an inch, long and thin. The big one has numbers. She pinpoints the numbers with the point of her... index fingernail. I turn the book lengthwise, read the first few. She stops me. Pinpoints them individually.
'four, four, six... Two small lines extend out of the bar code between two numbers. She points at it, draws my attention to two at the beginning of the string of numbers. I don't know what they mean. There's almost as much mystery to these markings for me as there is to her. I shrug, shake my head, wonder if that means the same thing here.

She has me read the title and the reviews; turns the page, another full page of reviews. She points at the names of the newspapers. She notes the repetition of 'Magazine' and 'Tribune', finger hopping down the page to match them up. Another page with the title, the author. The copyright date, publisher's message. She notes the all capitals 'ATTENTION SCHOOLS AND CORPORATIONS' message, offering to sell books in bulk.

A quote; I read it; "Lawyers, I suppose, were children once." by Charles Lamb.

The facing page says 'Part One' in large black letters. I turn the page. Eenunh points to a black line that runs across the page to a large number 1. I say it. She flips back to the word 'One' on the previous page. I say it. She points to the number 1. I say it. She holds up her index finger. I say "One". She flips up her middle finger and I say "Two". She extends her thumb; I say "Three". More fingers; Four, Five. I hold my right hand next to hers, flip up my thumb and other fingers, counting 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. She nods, goes back to the page. I begin to read.

When I get to the second paragraph, which begins with 'When', she points to the word 'When' beginning the first and second lines above. I say, 'Yes' and nod, pronounce 'When' again, and two more times, pointing at the words. I fumble with some 'sign language' trying to think of how to explain 'When'. I think of pointing to my naked wrist, where people might have a watch. Meaningless. How do you explain the concept of time, the ever-elapsing moment of now? The 'When' of memory of the past, or imagining 'When' of the future? I start to go on reading.Then I remember the stop watch in the picture on the cover. I flip back, point to it, say 'When'. Probably meaningless. She peers closely at it.

When I get to Boo Radley she points to the names, the Ewells, Jem, Dill, Boo Radley. I repeat them. She seems to pinpoint the capitalized names, the capital letters.

We've read a few pages when my stomach rumbles! I feel gas rippling through my bowels! I worried about what their food might do to me!

She looks amused, jumps up, takes my hand and pulls me up. She's very strong. She leads me to the ramp up to the bedroom, pushes me in that direction, comes with me. She pushes me toward the bathroom, closes the door behind me. I don't think I'm quite ready so I simply wash my hands... but... then... I'm ready! I hurry to the commode and strain a bit, relax, strain again, relax, and... kawhoosh! I expel most of what must be in me in one great gush! It's alarming! It's embarrassing! It smells like hell! I reach back and pull the lever. It flushes with a great suctional whoosh!

Good God! Oh! The second coming! Another kawhoosh! More stank. I flush again. I think I'm done. I think again. And again.
Now, I'm pretty sure.

There, in a small alcove in the rock face, are leaves. I see the leaf shape, vein structure, and I'm surprised when I pick one up to find it very soft, but strong. I fold it and use it. Fold another, and another. I hope there are no further surprises. I stand and feel secure. I take two more, step to the sink, pants at my ankles, wet the leaves and sit back down. I clean myself a bit more. Satisfied, I pull up my pants, flush, wash my hands and go out.

Eenunh is across the room by the open front door, turns back to me, arms crossed under her breasts. I'm sure she's laughing, stifled but still laughing, a wonderful, beautiful look on her face. She closes the door, meets me at the middle of the room, buzzes something, head inclined, inquisitively? Consolingly? Something. She reaches and touches my cheek. I pat my stomach. She nods in the affirmative, pats her own.

Tinunh comes up. They grin and buzz. Tinunh pats her stomach and moves quickly to the bathroom! She lets out a chirp, loud, sharp sound. Eenunh laughs, covers her mouth with her right hand! Tinunh comes out holding her nose. She grabs a towel off the shelf, waves it as she closes the door. The door comes back open. I see her going to the alcove. Eenunh goes to the door, head down, left ear near it, and buzzes. I hear Tinunh's faint voice. I realize suddenly that if their food did this to me my food might affect them similarly. I feel guilty. I laugh, quietly, to myself. What a way to... get to know each other.

Eenunh gestures for us to go back down the ramp to the living room.

She returns to the chairs. I go down the ramp to the balcony door, open it a crack again, hear the thunder, not continuous now; intermittent, distant, but substantial. I get a bit of misting, close it, return to the chairs. We read a couple more pages.

Tinunh returns. She is dressed differently, carries a bag strapped around her neck, across her chest to her right side. They converse. Eenunh takes the book, lays it with the pages face down on the table. She rises, motions for me to rise. We go up the ramp. She pulls a bag like Tinunh's from a shelf there. There are things in it. They clank metallically. I can see there's weight. She sets it on the floor, hands me a bag without any things, no weight but the bag. She puts the strap of hers over her head to hang from the neck across to her right side. I do the same with mine. And..., Tinunh opens the door. We're... going somewhere.

Out in the corridor there are people everywhere, going to the ramps and down. Some come down from further up, other floors, all streaming uniformly down. Most, if not all, wear pack-bags like us. There are people in dark brown, some in light brown, a tan. There are some in light blue. Only a few wear a dark blue, and seem to stand and observe while others move to the ramps. Only a couple wear a... richer, more azure blue I've seen, sport-coat style and more stylish knit dresses. They seem to travel against the flow of people, along the right side, up the long corridor instead of to the ramps. Dark greens; light greens. Eenunh's tunic-like dress looks a flat... gold... or... dark... yellow in this light. Tinunh's looks olive drab.

We wait a chance to get in line, get in, and trundle down. The walls glow brightly with the movement. The smell is different, not the honey sweet of the apartment, more an odor of bodies, I think, not... unpleasant. Just so many of... us. Their feet make little sound. I notice they pick them up very naturally and set them down. Not much friction. I drag a foot occasionally, unaccustomed to the ramps, and Eenunh looks back and down. I step more carefully.

In the... octo-chamber below, where all the ramps come out, we turn right, the way we came in, cross the room close to the wall. Tables from the pub are set up in the room, chairs stacked on them. I recognize the passage from the pub where we came in yesterday.

I see water! I stop and stare down into the darkness. I go down a ways, flashing my hand at the wall to activate the glow. The passage is flooded down at the bottom! The water must be up over the patio! In the door!

I speculate on the scene out there in the desert, the camp, a flood of this magnitude! The barracks pod would wash away, sealed, and float. Holy [naughty word removed]! I'm afraid again.

This central passage on the other side of the cavern, off this chamber, is large, accommodating the large flow of people. They walk in three lines, not shoulder to shoulder, but in a staggered... left, center, right... uniformity. They seem to avoid getting close to the left wall. Soon I see why. A person passes on the left, coming the other way. Soon two more, going the other way. They were Brownboys, Greengirls, some... kind of... specialized workers I speculate.

Now it seems everyone carries a bag, some two, crisscrossed. We walk a long time, a long way. I'm afraid again, anew. How far into the... big rock mountain are we going? The passage is level, but... will we go deeper? Can I find my way... if...?

Then we're out into a huge cavern, high ceiling. There's little light, dim. I can see vehicles! A uniform shape, all flat white, all parked with a back end against a... like... a loading dock.
They look like box trucks, or vans, sloping back end, doors standing open like... butterfly wings... on many. People working on things there on the dock, metal on metal, hammering, grinding. White tires. But... they look flat on the bottom.

Then... I see... They're floating! They're boats! They're floating!

What in the world? What... in this world?