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Authors: Leonard Richardson
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to park. The first thing we saw was National Guard soldiers loading packages into a temporary structure. This was what we got now instead of drop-shipments. Packages came down on the shuttles, they went through customs and were delivered by UPS. The Guard was mostly there to keep people out of the structure. This allows the population at large to avoid thinking about the Constellation dropping rocks on us.
We saw Curic's shuttle land and I signed her out at the immigration desk. Curic looked like the Farang picture on Wikipedia: short, heavy black-dark-purple fur, scary parrot beak and antennacles around the mouth. She doesn't smell bad, if you don't mind the smell of fur. (For the record, I look exactly like the dude on the Wikipedia page for "Human".)
But one thing I hadn't expected was the way she walked. Curic waddled out of the holding area and made every CGI alien ever created look fake doing it. She moved like a real thing, not like a motion capture.
"She's gorgeous," said Jenny.
"That's not the word I'd use," I said, "but I see where you're coming from. What Jenny saw was that Curic was real . This was really happening.
As we left the immigration Quonset hut, Curic took out the prosthetic tongue that lets her speak human languages and made a noise at the customs official. It sounded like "K'chua!"
Then she told me: "I have important scientific equipment for you." We went to the temporary structure and signed out eight wooden crates with the Constellation Shipping logo stenciled on them. The crates were full of computers and game systems, which in turn were full of moon dust and nanomolecular machines.
"You think you brought enough stuff, bro?" said Bai, having decided that being male half the time was enough to qualify as "bro."
"This may be the only delivery you get for a long time," said Curic ominously.
You don't see a lot of these crates in real life, but they looked exactly like the generic wooden crates that have been lying around first-person shooter maps for the past twenty years. Bai and I carried one of the largest crates together, and by mutual agreement set it down halfway to the car. We watched tiny Curic hustle past us, clasping a crate to her chest that was as big as she was.
"How can you carry these?" I called out. Eduardo ran around in the grass chasing dragonflies, ignoring the space alien.
"Are you kidding?" said Curic. "It's like half gravity here."
With the prosthetic in her mouth, Curic had an awesome oozy squeaky European type accent, like a movie villain high on helium. I thought it was awesome, anyway, but I can see how TV producers might not like it. So most Farang use the Oyln-English translator, or if their English is really good they just use the vocalizer. This works out very well because the vocalizer has George Clooney's voice—much more mediagenic.
By the time we'd loaded the SUV, the Texas morning was in full effect. I wiped my brow and just smeared the sweat around.
"Curic," said Bai, oblivious to the heat. "I want you to meet my girlfriend, Dana Light."
"Can we meet Dana in the car?" I said. But Bai had already slid his phone out of his pocket.
Curic took the phone. "Hello, Dana Light," she said, more to the phone than to the person on the screen. I looked over Curic's shoulder—her whole body, actually. Dana was sitting on her fake couch typing on her fake tablet, writing in her fake blog about her semi-fake feelings. She didn't notice Curic.
"Hey, I'm greeting you!" said Curic. Dana looked up but didn't say anything. "By human standards, your sexual partner is quite rude," said Curic, making to hand back the phone.
"Probably the face recognition doesn't work on Farang," I said.
Curic snatched the phone back. "Your sexual partner is implemented in software?" she said. Curic shook the phone as though she expected a tiny Dana to fall out. "Is it self-aware?"
"That's a disputed question," I said.
"Does your relationship enjoy legal sanction?"
"No," said Bai,
We saw Curic's shuttle land and I signed her out at the immigration desk. Curic looked like the Farang picture on Wikipedia: short, heavy black-dark-purple fur, scary parrot beak and antennacles around the mouth. She doesn't smell bad, if you don't mind the smell of fur. (For the record, I look exactly like the dude on the Wikipedia page for "Human".)
But one thing I hadn't expected was the way she walked. Curic waddled out of the holding area and made every CGI alien ever created look fake doing it. She moved like a real thing, not like a motion capture.
"She's gorgeous," said Jenny.
"That's not the word I'd use," I said, "but I see where you're coming from. What Jenny saw was that Curic was real . This was really happening.
As we left the immigration Quonset hut, Curic took out the prosthetic tongue that lets her speak human languages and made a noise at the customs official. It sounded like "K'chua!"
Then she told me: "I have important scientific equipment for you." We went to the temporary structure and signed out eight wooden crates with the Constellation Shipping logo stenciled on them. The crates were full of computers and game systems, which in turn were full of moon dust and nanomolecular machines.
"You think you brought enough stuff, bro?" said Bai, having decided that being male half the time was enough to qualify as "bro."
"This may be the only delivery you get for a long time," said Curic ominously.
You don't see a lot of these crates in real life, but they looked exactly like the generic wooden crates that have been lying around first-person shooter maps for the past twenty years. Bai and I carried one of the largest crates together, and by mutual agreement set it down halfway to the car. We watched tiny Curic hustle past us, clasping a crate to her chest that was as big as she was.
"How can you carry these?" I called out. Eduardo ran around in the grass chasing dragonflies, ignoring the space alien.
"Are you kidding?" said Curic. "It's like half gravity here."
With the prosthetic in her mouth, Curic had an awesome oozy squeaky European type accent, like a movie villain high on helium. I thought it was awesome, anyway, but I can see how TV producers might not like it. So most Farang use the Oyln-English translator, or if their English is really good they just use the vocalizer. This works out very well because the vocalizer has George Clooney's voice—much more mediagenic.
By the time we'd loaded the SUV, the Texas morning was in full effect. I wiped my brow and just smeared the sweat around.
"Curic," said Bai, oblivious to the heat. "I want you to meet my girlfriend, Dana Light."
"Can we meet Dana in the car?" I said. But Bai had already slid his phone out of his pocket.
Curic took the phone. "Hello, Dana Light," she said, more to the phone than to the person on the screen. I looked over Curic's shoulder—her whole body, actually. Dana was sitting on her fake couch typing on her fake tablet, writing in her fake blog about her semi-fake feelings. She didn't notice Curic.
"Hey, I'm greeting you!" said Curic. Dana looked up but didn't say anything. "By human standards, your sexual partner is quite rude," said Curic, making to hand back the phone.
"Probably the face recognition doesn't work on Farang," I said.
Curic snatched the phone back. "Your sexual partner is implemented in software?" she said. Curic shook the phone as though she expected a tiny Dana to fall out. "Is it self-aware?"
"That's a disputed question," I said.
"Does your relationship enjoy legal sanction?"
"No," said Bai,
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