Artificial Heart

Prisha’s voice echoed around the ship. She clapped a hand to her mouth.

The figure turned. His visor showed nothing. His body language showed even less. Was he angry? Was he annoyed? Prisha tried not to cringe. She tried to stand with confidence but wobbled on her feet, still oddly fuzzy-headed and faint. She lifted her chin instead. She had to get something out of this. He couldn’t just drop her back and that was it.

‘You are tired,’ he said. Reaching under the console to his right, he pulled out something that looked like a tray. Then he flipped it open, revealing a second seat. Directly beside him.

‘Th-thank you,’ she said, sitting down on it awkwardly.

They were so close their hips were almost touching. He smelled strange—metallic, plastic, like the rest of the ship, and yet heat radiated from him. His hand was close enough she could reach out and touch it. Despite the warmth of the space blanket, the hair stood up on her arms.

‘I am extraterrestrial,’ he said in his echoey monotone voice. ‘As you would call me. Part-organic. Not humanoid. From an eco-base subset, 26.69 light years away approximate. I am a satellite drone arrived to collect data after receiving your intel.’

Prisha stared as she tried to remember. 26.69. 26.69. Eco-base subset. What the fuck did that mean?

‘That’s a lot to remember,’ she said. Important. She needed to write it down. She wished she had a pen. She pulled off the “space” blanket and started searching her pockets as though one should miraculously appear in her hiking clothes. ‘Do you have a pen?’

His visor stared at her blankly.

She paused. ’Receiving intel? You mean … you mean we contacted you?’

‘You sent messages. We retrieved them.’

Sent messages? Prisha pursed her mouth. ’Do we … do we know about you?’

‘No.’

‘What did the messages say?’

‘There have been millions of messages.’ He turned towards the window. ‘We have almost arrived.’

‘Already?’ Prisha’s heart fluttered. ‘I can’t … I can’t stay a bit longer?’

He turned his head.

He turned back.

Prisha continued to sit beside him quietly, watching as the sky turned from black to a deep twilight blue. The stars dimmed. Most vanished. Then there were oceans and mountains and land. They were moving fast. It all rushed past her like a dream.

Prisha didn’t realise she was gripping onto the back of his seat until her hand started to ache. She felt nothing of the sheer velocity at which they were moving. She glanced down at the controls but could make nothing of the lights and buttons and levers. He tapped a screen.

‘We can’t see you?’

‘Only when I want to be seen.’

The forest blossomed into being. Trees rose up on either side as he settled the ship, as easily as though he were parking a car.

Prisha turned with a start at a dull clank. A door was opening. No. It was the ramp lowering. Prisha’s heart sank. She didn’t move.

‘You may go,’ he said.

Prisha couldn’t speak, the words stuck to the roof of her mouth.

‘Go.’

Finally, Prisha stood. Her legs seemed barely able to carry her weight as she wobbled over. She stopped and turned. ‘I’ll come back,’ she said. ‘I’ll come back. Same day. Same time. Right here.’

He stared at her and she stared at him. Well, she stared at her reflection in his visor, distorted and pale and wide-eyed. ‘Will you … will you be back?’

He didn’t answer. Prisha nodded dismally. She turned away, standing on the threshold as she gazed out onto the quietness of the forest. Now she had to go back home—as though this had never happened.

As though she could forget.

She turned one last time. Before he could stop her, she dashed back inside and picked up the shimmering blanket he’d given her, before dashing down the ramp. The moment her shoes touched grass, the ramp raised. Clutching the blanket to her chest, Prisha watched. There was no word big enough to describe how she felt as the mysterious alien and his spaceship lifted off. There was hardly any motion. Hardly any noise. Lights blinked and swung, then shut off completely. Even the trees surrounding it barely moved. She arched her neck as it shot upwards and vanished.

Prisha blinked against the empty sky.

The world suddenly felt so quiet. Well, not really. The usual croaking and shrieking and whirring split the night. No. Quiet wasn’t the right word. Lonely. After all that had happened, she was lonely.

She felt strangely high and strangely low as she made her stumbling way back. Her heart raced in excitement as much as her stomach dipped in disappointment. This was going to be a real story to tell!

She suddenly remembered her headlight and reached up for it, but it was gone. Folding up the blanket, she shoved it under her armpit as she climbed her way up the creek bed back towards camp—and Renee.

And suddenly the excitement became overwhelming. Her sister had seen the ship. She had to believe her!

‘Nay!’ she called. ‘Nay!’ she screamed, picking up the pace. ‘You won’t believe what’s happened. Oh my God! Oh my God!’ She fell over several times as she scrambled over the uneven rock. She scraped her knee, crushed her toes, banged her funny bone but hardly noticed the pain, her veins buzzing with excitement.

‘Nay!’ Finally, she made it to the top. She rushed through the trees. ‘Nay!’

She stopped. The camp was gone. Prisha blinked confusedly. She spun around on the spot, as though her sister might suddenly appear out of nowhere. Was this the right place? Had the alien dropped her somewhere else? No. This was definitely the spot.

Prisha scratched her head. Her stomach swooped with unease. Had Renee just left her behind? Had she truly packed up camp and hiked back in the dark all on her own? That didn’t make sense. That would be stupid—and impossible.

Or perhaps something bad had happened?

Prisha blinked rapidly. She looked around their little campground again. She was utterly alone with no supplies. She chewed her lip, feeling a little sick. It was almost as alarming and unexpected as the landing of the alien ship.

What was she going to do now?

She looked down at her “space” blanket and felt herself calm. It wasn’t far to the road and she wasn’t starving. Prisha rubbed at her chest, then at her belly, suddenly wishing she’d taken the alien’s offering of pain relief.

Throwing out the blanket, Prisha lay down upon it, hands braced behind her head as she looked through the branches to the stars above.

26.69. Eco-base subset.

She remembered!

They can’t see you?

Only when I want to be seen.

If that were true, how many more might be out there? Maybe he was still there, looking down upon her right now. Watching her. Prisha wrapped the blanket around herself with a shiver.

It took a long time to fall asleep, her tumultuous mind hard to quiet. She eventually did and when she woke it was daylight. She stared up into the branches in surprise. Despite the hard ground, she’d slept well.

She didn’t move for several moments, taking long deep breaths. She sat up, then flopped back down again with a wince, gripping at her chest. Rolling over with a moan, she sat up and grabbed her head. Why did it feel like she had a hangover? Like she’d been sleeping too long?

At another pinch in her chest, she lifted up her shirt, then pulled up her bra. There was nothing to see. Nothing out of the ordinary. She blinked away some of her sleep. She laid her hand against the sore spot with a frown.

Prisha shrugged as she rolled her clothes back down. She should get moving. It would be hours before she reached the car. And she didn’t have a phone. Did Renee really just leave? Did the alien do something to her?

Prisha got up.

After relieving herself, she quickly went back to the creek and drank several mouthfuls of water.

After she was done, she straightened and stared through the trees. Her feet seemed to pull her along. First she was at the creek. Seconds later she was standing in the clearing where the spaceship once sat. There didn’t seem to be any evidence of it now. The topmost branches of the surrounding trees waved gently in the breeze. There were no scorch marks. No rubbish. Not even a flattening of the grass.

Prisha turned away. Finding a long, sturdy stick, she climbed her way back up the slope.