Artificial Heart

There was nothing she could do now.

It seemed to be flying on its own. Could it mean it was unmanned? Her eyes darted around the ship again. The ship seemed larger on the inside than it did on the outside. There were two closed doors. Leading onto what, she could only guess. Perhaps separate rooms or compartments or cupboards, or even perhaps to the outside of the ship. Out onto the night sky.

Her heart kept skipping beats.

Prisha turned to the window. She stepped back with a gasp. The night was black. Blacker than black. The stars were twinkling with a brightness that was uncanny. Outer space. Was she already in outer space? She couldn’t be. What about gravity? Shouldn’t she be floating?

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Something swelled inside her throat. A balloon of terror pressed up against the bottom of her diaphragm. She turned around at the sound of scuffing. It was behind the second door! She dashed around the room, searching, scrabbling at the walls, careful to avoid pressing any buttons. She found a handle low to the floor. It took her a few moments to work it out, twisting and pulling and shoving. The door opened, revealing a compartment. An empty crawlspace.

Somewhere to hide.

Crawling inside, she pulled the door to, careful not to pull it closed. God forbid she locked herself in! There, she braced her chin upon her knees, ears ringing in the terrifying quiet. There was that faint humming again. And something lower, deeper, vibrating, like an engine growling. She bit into her knee as she thought about Renee. About her friends and work and home.

Her life.

All the things she should have done.

She buried her face into her knees as several tears slipped out. Her heart felt like it was flopping in her chest. There came a bang! Prisha jerked her head up. A loud creak followed. She pulled the door in closer, gripping it so hard her arm was aching.

Footsteps. Actual footsteps! They thudded heavily against the floor. They seemed to circle the room. Prisha bit down hard into her knees as they passed right by her hiding space.

They stopped. Another creak. Then silence. Silence except for Prisha’s panting breaths and the hum and vibration of the ship. For a long time she sat there, waiting, dreading, tense, arse aching against the hard floor. It was cold too. Goose bumps prickled her arms and she wouldn’t stop trembling. Every now and then she heard a click and a creak but nothing more. He/she/it was quiet for an alien.

Alien.

It’s an alien.

Fuck.

She couldn’t just sit there forever; she had to do something. Her heart skipped several more beats. Her body trembled harder. Her hard grip on the handle was making her whole body ache. Prisha pushed the door open a little further. Just a smidgeon. It was noiseless—thank God. She could see nothing. She opened the door further still—and stopped.

A figure in the gloom. It was sitting in the chair in front of the “console”. Hunched over. Very human-like. No tentacles or tail or slippery goop. It looked like a man. Rather large. Intimidating. A hand was gripping a lever. Prisha stared at it. Five fingers. Though it looked odd, the skin too shiny. A glove.

Prisha was so cold her breath was a mist and it was getting harder to control the trembling in her hands. She bit down on her lip so her teeth wouldn’t chatter. Exhaling with a whoosh, Prisha pushed the door open wide.

Again, that dream-like surrealness turned everything foggy as she pulled out her stiff legs and dropped to her knees onto the floor. Out in the open. Behind him. This strange, mysterious, potentially deadly man. He didn’t move. This wasn’t real. She was dreaming.

‘Um … hello …?’

It all happened so quickly.

He turned. His head looked very round and large, completely unnatural, before she realised he was waring a helmet. The light from the ship flashed across his visor. His seat knocked over as he sped across the room with a speed that was horrifying.

Prisha’s heart leaped. Her stomach lurched. She was on her feet. Big hands gripped her. A helmeted head. A flashing visor. A shiny suit. And then all she saw was red. The same red from the outside.

Then darkness.

She felt things. She heard things. But her mind fumbled with what it all meant. A bright light. So bright she closed her eyes. A figure. A dark figure standing over her. A hard surface at her back. A deep echoey voice murmured intelligible words. Something sharp pressed into her neck. Her eyes closed again.

They snapped open. Blinking, she stared up at the ceiling, the twinkling lights of the interior masquerading as stars. Prisha tried to sit up but failed. Something was holding her down. She looked over and discovered she was strapped to a hard bench. Bearing down, she tried to pull up her arms but the bindings around her wrists were tight and kept her firmly secured. There were more bindings around her ankles and torso.

Prisha had some issue with claustrophobia—she hated being tied down. She managed to subdue the rising panic by getting angry. ‘What the fuck!’

She turned her head—and stared. It was him. His dark figure. She squinted but couldn’t make out any details as he kept to the darkness. She was in a different room. A small one. With only enough space for the bench and an open cupboard. And him—the alien.

‘Let me go!’ She twisted her hands in their bindings. Tears choked her throat.

‘You should not be here,’ he said.

Prisha silenced.

‘You should not be here,’ he repeated in echoing but flawless English.

‘Y-your ship was open. I came inside.’

‘Why?’

’I just … I just had to.’

He fell silent, watching. There was no going back now. There was no point in begging. She’d made her choice and now she was fucked.

‘What have you done to me?’ And now she could feel it—a pain in her belly, sharp and insistent, that hadn’t been there before. She felt other things. A sting in her neck. An ache in her chest and back. ‘What are you doing to me?!’

The figure peeled itself from the wall. There came a small beep and suddenly the bindings unravelled, sucking back into the bench like released seatbelts. Prisha leapt from the bench, fell to her feet unsteadily and backed up against the wall.

‘I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have come inside! I know!’

She shook her head, strangely fuzzy-headed. Her eyes were blurry. Bending over her knees, she took several long deep breaths. Her chest ached. The figure stepped into the light. He was suited, helmeted. He was tall with big shoulders that stretched the material. Prisha pushed herself further into the wall.

The visor of his helmet reflected her frightened image.

‘What are you going to do with me?’ Her voice shook. She winced and grabbed at her chest.

‘You are in pain.’

‘My chest is sore.’

The alien went to the cupboard and pulled out a dish. Inside was a syringe.

Prisha’s eyes widened.

‘I can assist,’ he said.

‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘I’ll deal with it.’

Prisha watched as he put it back. What was going on? Was she actually talking to this being? This … this thing? Was he actually asking her questions? Like this was all so normal?

He closed the cupboard. Prisha blinked. There was something different about him—there were many things different about him!—but different about the way he moved, the way he spoke. It didn’t seem … natural.

‘You are cold.’

‘I’m fine.’ Prisha tucked her trembling hands under her armpits.

He opened the cupboard again, this time pulling out a slim package. He ripped it open and came over. Prisha pushed back into the wall, breath hissing out of her mouth as he towered over her. ‘Keep back!’

He flung out the contents. It looked like a long piece of plastic. Prisha’s breath caught as he wrapped it around her like a blanket. She froze to the spot, unable to move. Unable to think. He moved back, giving her space.

Several moments passed, the two just staring at each other.

‘Th-thank you,’ Prisha finally croaked, securing the blanket around her shoulders.

She licked her lips as she gazed back at her reflection in his visor. Her long dark hair was mussed up, like she’d been sleeping for days. Her normally brown skin looked a peculiar grey. She pressed her fingers to the bags under her eyes. Then she squinted, trying to see within.

There should be so many things she wanted to say. So many things she wanted to ask. But her jaw felt like a rusty hinge. This could be the most important interaction in the history of humanity and she couldn’t ask a single damn question!

He turned and left the room. Prisha stayed behind, staring at the darkened doorway, not knowing what to do. What the hell was she supposed to do?

Prisha followed on stumbling legs. He was sitting down at the console, gazing into space like she didn’t exist. Prisha stared at him long and hard before turning her eyes to the window. The sky was so black. And the stars! The stars were so bright. And so many.

Space. They were flying out in space!

‘Where are you taking me?’ Finally, a question.

‘Home,’ he said without looking at her.

‘H-home?’

’Your home.’

Several powerful feelings crashed over her: relief, disbelief, excitement, disappointment. She was a wreck. ‘Oh.’

Prisha watched as one of his big gloved hands pressed some buttons, then shifted a lever. She felt nothing. The ship didn’t even seem to be moving.

‘Who are you?’ she asked in a stronger voice.

He didn’t respond.

‘My name’s Prisha.’ Her heart was pounding. She felt proud.

Again, no response.

’How do you know English? Are you really an alien?’

Again, no response.

‘Talk to me!’