Artificial Heart

Prisha couldn’t sleep that night, staring up at the ceiling, hands pressed to her heart. She could smell him all over her. She could still feel him inside her. Her body was burning faintly. She didn’t want to forget the night, nor the feelings, too quickly.

She wanted to remember them forever.

It was hardly any time at all before the room began to brighten. Prisha sat up, feeling both energised and drained. Everything felt surreal as she began the new day. It was like she was simply moving through the motions, not really feeling anything. She felt hollow, like she’d left her heart and mind up in the stars with Alf, leaving only a shell behind.

‘He will be back,’ she told herself.

She stood by the window as she ate her breakfast, gazing into the grey, thinking of the stars twinkling beyond, of Alf’s ship waiting amid them. It had only been a few hours and he was already gone long enough. It hurt her chest. She shouldn’t have done that. She shouldn’t have been intimate with him.

Now, things were going to be harder.

She was much more than attached. She was in an actual relationship. A long distance one. Prisha snorted at the thought, almost choking on her Wheetbix. She laughed bitterly. She wondered what her sister would say. She suddenly wondered what those important people with the chip would think. Especially Black Moustache who always studied her like cells in a petri dish. How would he look at her now?

Her eyes widened. Putting down her bowl, she hurried over to the television and switched it on. She flicked through several early morning news reports, sitting on the edge of her couch, but nothing about the event was covered. Prisha leaned back into her seat, clutching at her chest.

The next few days went by as blurry and empty as the first. She ate. She slept. She worked. She exercised. There was not a single collapse and only a few bouts of dizziness. Considering how depressed she was, she was surprisingly energised. The nights were difficult, though. Once she fell asleep it was good—she slept long and hard—but it was falling asleep that was the problem.

Every night she would have her phone in her hand, looking at Alf’s pictures, scrolling and scrolling and scrolling, until his face burned upon her brain. Sometimes she would fall asleep with it still clutched tightly in her fist.

During the day, it didn’t leave her side, tucked away in her pocket, warm against her thigh. Somehow, having his pictures close and accessible made the real him seem closer too. Like he was there with her, domesticated and making breakfast in the next room. She could imagine it now, his half-organic, half-robot form strolling around the house.

Prisha chuckled tearfully.

She’d even chosen one of his photos as her laptop background, much to her own chagrin. Daring and stupid, she knew. But she couldn’t help it. He was sitting at his controls, turned around to face her, a big hand still clutching the lever. Earth was blurred in the background.

She couldn’t stop staring at the small crease across the bridge of his nose, how his red eye glowed. His dark eye drilled as deeply into her as it did in real life. She would sometimes find herself sitting and staring at it between clients until her back ached and her arse turned hard against the seat and the tears crowded her eyes.

As often as she could, she would visit the park, swinging on the swing when she was alone, watching the kids play when she wasn’t, her eyes always drifting back to that one spot. The night was the best time, of course, but there was no flattened grass, no shimmering air, no prickle at the back of her neck.

A waste of time. She would know.

No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t get him out of her mind. And why shouldn’t she? As fantastical and impossible and astonishing as it all was. She’d seen him four times now and as much as her real life felt unreal, so did her life with Alf. It was like she was drifting in limbo, not quite alive, not quite dead. Her brain—or perhaps it was her heart?—didn’t seem to be handling it very well.

Each night Prisha would sit outside, sucking on one of Alf’s nutrient sachets, watching the sky and the twinkling stars, listening to the mundane noises of her neighbours, the crickets and the frogs, the traffic in the distance. She usually enjoyed the solitude. For the first time in a long time, it all felt strangely lonely.

The next day, her sister paid a visit.

‘You’re looking well,’ Renee said approvingly, flicking back her blonde hair as she shouldered her handbag. ’Very well.’

‘Do I?’

‘Are you wearing make up?’ She looked Prisha up and down. ‘Have you been working out more?’

‘Thank you. No. It keeps my mind off things.’

Renee grinned at her. ‘Fair enough. You’ve gotten over that weird illness then?’ She dropped her handbag onto the couch. ‘No more collapses?’

‘Nada,’ Prisha lied.

’Good. And your … er … friend?’

‘Haven’t seen him. I even … I even went back up to the forest to find him—’

‘—Prisha!—’

‘—but he wasn’t there.’

Renee shook her head. ’Honestly. Trust you.’

Prisha turned her head away as her face heated up. ‘Yeah. I know.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Anyway … how are the kids?’

Her sister didn’t suspect a thing and Prisha managed to feel only a little guilty about it. It was her life, after all. As ludicrous and insane and maybe even as childish as it was. They had coffee and Prisha made sure to leave her phone in her bedroom. She’d accidentally left Alf’s metal box on the kitchen bench.

‘Protein sachets,’ Prisha said at her sister’s curious look.

‘An interesting box. Looks expensive.’

Prisha shrugged and smiled and that was the end of it.

After she’d left, Prisha went and checked herself over in the mirror. She could see what her sister meant. She was looking well. There was a healthy glow to her cheeks. She looked trimmer. She touched her cheek, peering closely at her face. Younger too. Her hair was all wavy and shiny. She hadn’t looked so pretty in a while. Perhaps the nutrient packs were working. Perhaps it was all the excitement. Or perhaps it was because of Alf himself.

Perhaps all three.

This has to be much more than data collection.

Alf.

Staring in wonder, Prisha twisted her long dark fringe between her fingers.

It was Friday morning, and Prisha was sitting on the couch scrolling lazily through her phone, when something curious and startling popped up on her feed. Prisha often received weird and crazy and often conspiracy-driven articles on her social media accounts. Not unusual or unexpected, considering she was always on the search for any rumours of UFOs and alien encounters. They were usually ridiculous …

Second UFO Encounter Confirmed

Unidentified Woman Involved

Prisha’s heart was pounding as she quickly scrolled through the “report”. It was short and poorly written. Definitely not mainstream. Few details and mostly assumptions. Her fears eased slightly—only slightly. She looked through the comments—and immediately regretted it.

Many of the things the readers surmised were perfectly innocent, sometimes funny, occasionally eerily accurate—but a lot of it was nasty. Too much of it. The things they were saying about her were disgusting. It made her sick to her stomach, especially after what she and Alf had experienced together.

Prisha threw her phone across the room and folded her arms around herself. These people knew nothing about her. They had no idea about anything. Maybe Alf was wasting his time. Maybe humans weren’t worth saving. She felt a wave of regret over handing over that chip.

How is Brisbane this time of year?

Prisha’s skin prickled. Would they come looking for her? Would it be difficult? They had resources. They had skill. They’d already narrowed it down to a tiny portion of the global population. Prisha’s eyes widened. The police? Prisha had told that young cop. Her sister had given a report!

I got abducted by an alien.

Surely not. Surely they’d just think her a liar. If her sister hadn’t made the connection, they wouldn’t. Prisha’s report was probably filed away, lost and forgotten, amid the millions of other files.

Yes. Everything would be fine.

Still, it nagged at the back of her mind, making it difficult to concentrate on her work. It impacted her sleep. When she studied Alf on her phone, she’d feel a sickening pull at the bottom of her navel, fearful that she would never see him again. That these photos were the last thing she would ever know of him. Every time there was a knock at the door or the phone rang, her heart would pound and her body would tense, prepared to run out the back door.

Every time she left to go out, she looked around her warily, as though she were being watched. Any car that passed too close to her house made her ears prick up. Once, somebody had used her driveway to turn their car around. Prisha’s hands had been shaking as she watched through the window.

There was certainly no more visits to the park anymore.

What was on that chip?

Despite promising herself she wouldn’t go back on to the internet, she couldn’t help herself. More and more articles tracked on her feed. No new details. No specifics. But it was becoming more and more widespread.

Alien is a No Show. Empty UFO?

Mystery Alien Woman Remains Anonymous

Alien Technology: Friend or Foe?

Mulder & Scully are Back in Business!

How to Prepare for an Alien Invasion 101

Alien Woman Identified! Found in Idaho

On and on it went. They were calling her Alien Woman? What the hell did that even mean? Couldn’t they be a little creative? Not that Prisha should judge, she supposed—Alf.

Then it started hitting the mainstream. How was it spreading so quickly? At least there wasn’t any footage. At least there wasn’t any concrete evidence. The majority—sane—portion of the population could continue to deny it.

Prisha exhaled nervously as she tangled her fingers through her hair.

‘Do you believe it?’ the male presenter spoke.

‘Oh, absolutely! Why wouldn’t I? I have a boring life. It’s exciting!’ The female presenter laughed.

‘Well, even if the alien doesn’t show itself, maybe this mystery woman might.’ He looked dramatically at the screen. ‘Maybe she’s even watching us now. If you are, we are offering you the opportunity to come and speak with us. We would love to interview you.’

‘The Truth is Out There!’

The two presenters broke into laughter.

And then that stupid X-File theme song played again. Prisha was shaking so hard it took several goes before she managed to hit the right button and switch the T.V off. Grabbing her couch pillow, she pulled it against her chest and curled up around it.

How is Brisbane this time of year?

There had been no specifics about her location—that was something. Prisha looked through her window. ‘Where are you, Alf?’ She picked up her phone and scrolled through his pictures again. She stared at the last one. His wondrous brown eye seemed to bore right into her soul.

What the world wouldn’t give for these photos, Prisha thought. Imagine if she set them free for all to see! No-one would believe her. Well … no one sane would believe her.

Prisha chewed her lip. A groove was carving itself through her belly. It was making her heart ache. She needed to stop looking at his pictures. But she couldn’t help it.

A tear dripped onto his image.