\u201cThe rig, it was right here,\u201d I panicked, to Heinz. \u201cWhere the hell could it have gone?\u201d We stared at the empty patch of snow, beside the long hose and the discarded boots and cylinders, and wondered about the spacewoman.<\/p>\n
He looked at me with typical, big-brother derision. Twin jets of irritation streamed from his nostrils. \u201cSure it was, Ingo. Sure it was. I\u2019ll bet she blasted into space, right here, from this very spot. And now she\u2019s probably on her way to some nearby star.\u201d He shivered audibly, then cinched his red-and-white, eagle-embroidered scarf up to the curly hairs growing from his ears. \u201cIt\u2019s cold. I\u2019m going back.\u201d <\/p>\n
Finally, I thought I’d had him. Just once, Heinz would appreciate just how exceptional his little brother\u2019s life could be. But then, after dragging him all the way into the Alps, and then out into this frozen meadow on this frozen morning, all I had to show was a whole bunch of freshly packed snow. <\/p>\n
I was mired in disbelief when he started back to the farmhouse. He was laboring to stay on top of the thin crisp of ice, rather than sink into knee-deep powder, when he heard the loud, rippling sound. He looked into the sky, pondered, looked some more, and then began to exclaim. <\/p>\n
Heinz Baumgartner had been my older brother for as long as I can remember. And for that entire time I\u2019d basked in his radiance, mostly unnoticed, a rocky exoplanet beside a main-sequence star. As the firstborn, his every milestone had been recorded and every success had earned him praise. And in the narrow, self-centered universe that emerged he always had a better story to tell–whether he did or whether he didn\u2019t. <\/p>\n
But the thing about rocky exoplanets, they\u2019re often more interesting than their main-sequence stars.<\/p>\n
For more than thirty years my brother and I had spent the first Friday of October at his vineyard in Carinthia, down where Austria kisses Slovenia just beyond Hungary\u2019s view. These were mostly one-sided affairs, during which I\u2019d hear the latest retread of last year\u2019s stories. If I was lucky I\u2019d slip in a wholly unappreciated reference to myself somewhere along the way. <\/p>\n
But this year was going to be different, he would see, and midway through our second bottle of Weissburgunder I began my amazing tale. \u201cHeinz, I have a spaceman living in my attic.\u201d<\/p>\n
His stare was blank and flummoxed. I\u2019d been too abrupt, I never did transition well. I tried again.<\/p>\n
\u201cI said, a spaceman. Though she\u2019s more of a spacewoman I suppose.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIngo, what in the hell are you talking about?\u201d He spoke that sing-song, rollicking German native to the outer reaches of Austria.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe arrived a few weeks ago, out of the blue. She was covered from head to toe in this red and white robe, like a burqa, and all I could see were her eyes. They were strangely dark, almost hollow. She talks funny, can\u2019t weigh more than 20 kilos, and smells, well, somewhere between ozone and engine oil.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIngo,\u201d he said gravely, \u201cturn around.\u201d He gestured with full glass at the young man sitting on a backless bench at the rear of his Weingarten. He wasn\u2019t drinking, nor doing much of anything besides looking bored and conspicuous. \u201cSee him?\u201d<\/p>\n
I nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019s been bunking with my farmhands. His name is … oh hell, I forget. Let\u2019s call him Sepp.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSepp?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYea, Sepp. He arrived with a whole pack of \u2018em, a few weeks back, on the 14:30 from Zagreb. The rest continued onward to Munich, thank God. But not him, he hung around. Speaks English to me, but I get most of it. Says there\u2019s some war back home and he\u2019s looking for a new start. Says he\u2019s got a family and he\u2019s making a way for them.\u201d Heinz took a long sip then exhaled from the back of his throat. \u201cI\u2019m not so sure.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at Sepp, who was now looking at us, uncomfortable with the attention. \u201cIt could be true,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
Heinz\u2019 unshaven faced scrunched up like a raisin, as often happens when I have something to say. <\/p>\n
\u201cReally,\u201d I continued. \u201cThere\u2019s been quite a few like him recently. A lot of them are from Syria, and, yes, there\u2019s a civil war.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnyway,\u201d he pivoted, \u201cfor a bed and something to eat he offered to help with the harvest. The frosts were coming early, so I played along. Talk about smelling funny. Kind of like old figs in need of a good rain. I have no idea what he\u2019ll do in the winter. But for sure it\u2019s gonna cost me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMaria,\u201d I said, reclaiming the floor.<\/p>\n
\u201cCome again?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe wouldn\u2019t tell me her name, so I started calling her Maria.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWho?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe spacewoman.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRight.\u201d Heinz took the Lodenhut from his head and scratched the tangled, snow-white nest beneath. \u201cWell, what does she want?\u201d he asked, his downward inflection revealing disinterest.<\/p>\n
\u201cWater, mostly.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWater.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes. Wherever she came from, it must be very dry. I offered her food, and clothing, but all she wanted was water. Clean water. That\u2019s all she could talk about. I showed her the faucet in the bath and she was thrilled.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMust have been awful thirsty.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not so sure. The thing is, she never actually drank any. At least, not that I saw. She seemed more into saving it for later. I gave her some Tupperware.\u201d I glanced at Sepp, who glanced away. \u201cStrangest woman I\u2019ve ever seen. She just has to be from another world.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cA spacewoman.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, a spacewoman.\u201d I drew out that last word for maximum impact.<\/p>\n
A deep orange sunset appeared above the nearest hillock, where Heinz\u2019 trellises stood out like the stubble on his chin. He gazed slowly at the brilliance, savored the features of his fatherland, then turned toward me earnestly. <\/p>\n
\u201cIngo?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n
I leaned forward.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe buffet\u2019s gonna close. You hungry?\u201d
\n<\/p>\n
As usual, Advent arrived two months later. And per our custom Heinz and I met in Klagenfurt to visit the Christkindlmarkt. The cold autumn was turning to frigid winter, and we huddled next to the kettle of roasting chestnuts. Cloves and aniseed filled the air, and Gl\u00fchwein warmed our bellies.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe\u2019s still around,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMaria.\u201d<\/p>\n
Heinz drew a blank.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know, the spacewoman.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAh yes, she.\u201d <\/p>\n
He was humoring me, I could tell, but I continued all the same. This time, he would see. \u201cHer demands are still queer. Last week she wanted some hydrogen gas. She asked if I had a tap for that too, and was disappointed to learn that I didn\u2019t. I told her something like that\u2019s a little harder to come by.\u201d<\/p>\n
Heinz was listening, I suppose, though his attention had been divided between me and the young ladies who\u2019d asked to share our standing table. They were buried in layers of wool, bare hands soaking up heat from ceramic mugs of Punsch as they chatted, noses tipped the shade of Zweigelt.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe asked if I had helium, and I told her not much–a couple of cylinders in the welding barn, but that was it. She left for a few minutes, then came back, this time asking for methane too.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMethane?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, and now we were in business. I took her to the cellar and showed here the furnace.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat on Earth would she want with methane?\u201d Heinz asked, suspiciously.<\/p>\n
\u201cTo fill the bale wrappers.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTo fill the bale wrappers?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes. Once I showed her the gas line, she asked for some \u2018holders.\u2019 I had no idea what she meant, until she puffed out her burqa like a sea squab.\u201d<\/p>\n
Heinz pulled a handful of change from his thick, Dachstein woolwear jacket and began adding it up. \u201cHow about a Bratwurst?\u201d<\/p>\n
I agreed, then followed as he swam against the throng. I raised my voice so that he could hear. \u201cSo I took her to the hay barn. You know, the one up in the birch grove.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cUh-huh.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI opened it up and showed her the big rubber sacks we use to wrap the hay to turn it to silage. She seemed content enough, but she wasn\u2019t done yet. The next thing she wanted was a net.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cKetchup or mustard?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBoth,\u201d I replied. \u201cActually, two nets. When I told her I’m a farmer, not a fisherman, she just stared at me, waiting for a better answer. So, I thought of the stretchy nets we use to keep the cabbages from bouncing out of the lorry. She also asked for a scythe. \u2018Only if,\u2019 was all she said.\u201d <\/p>\n
I took a bite of the brat, and it was hot and crisp and delicious.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo, you remember that guy Sepp?\u201d Heinz asked while I chewed. \u201cHe\u2019s still around.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not surprised, there\u2019s really nowhere else–\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTook a job at the supermarket. Looks ridiculous in those tight red pants. He moved out, into his own flat. Started to speak some German for crying out loud.\u201d<\/p>\n
In Heinz\u2019 book, Sepp\u2019s efforts to integrate were neither praiseworthy nor welcome. <\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019s even been drinking Almdudler,\u201d he complained.<\/p>\n
\u201cStill?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, carbonated. Uppity little shit.\u201d <\/p>\n
Christmas came, and Christmas went, but the bitter winter lingered. And during one of its blizzards I began to wonder about Maria.<\/p>\n
\u201cHallo?\u201d Heinz said when he answered the phone.<\/p>\n
\u201cHeinz? It\u2019s me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIngo?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes. Listen, I think I need some help.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy are you whispering?\u201d <\/p>\n
I was all alone, so I didn\u2019t know. We always whisper when we don\u2019t want others to hear. \u201cIt\u2019s Maria,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
His silence registered another blow.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know, the spacewoman.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYea, of course. What does she want now?\u201d<\/p>\n
A strong gust slammed the shutters against the window frames. I crept up to one and peered through a crack and saw her lantern flickering wildly in the distance. \u201cShe didn\u2019t ask for anything new, but she\u2019s been acting very strange.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe has, huh?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes. She spends most of her time out in the east forty, fiddling around with something.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe does, huh?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes. I think she might be building something. Some sort of … contraption. Even tonight, of all nights. It\u2019s windy as hell.” <\/p>\n
\u201cI can hear.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI start to worry she\u2019s up to no good.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen call the cops, Ingo.\u201d The wind howled again.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat, so they can just take her away? No, I\u2019m not ready to do that yet. It\u2019s just a suspicion, a hunch, that\u2019s all.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt is, huh?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYea.\u201d<\/p>\n
I could hear my brother hunting through his wine closet, turning over bottles to view their labels. I could hear the television in the background.<\/p>\n
\u201cHeinz?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYea?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019d like you to come over, to see for yourself. If she worries you too, then we can go to the police together.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAw Ingo, I don\u2019t know. I\u2019ve got some things on this end.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI see,\u201d I said, before playing the silent card.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know, the vineyard and all.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut it\u2019s the middle of winter.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRight.\u201d<\/p>\n
I waited him out some more.<\/p>\n
\u201cOK, OK. You see, the truth is, it\u2019s Sepp. I think he might be up to no good.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow so?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe gets cheekier each day. He started working in the carpenter\u2019s shop.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd, well, he doesn\u2019t belong there.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy not?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe just doesn\u2019t belong there, you know. And get this…\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe started driving.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow dare he.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cYea, can you believe it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cActually, yes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd he\u2019s been hanging out with the grandkids. Says he just wants to practice his German. I don\u2019t know about that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy not?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause, Ingo, because. Needless to say, I got my eye on him. I\u2019m just waiting for him to screw up. And he will. And when he does … it\u2019s bye-bye Seppi.\u201d<\/p>\n
I waited for a few moments so the subject could change.<\/p>\n
\u201cHeinz?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYea?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCould you please stop by?\u201d<\/p>\n
He searched for another excuse, but none came to mind. \u201cAw hell, Ingo, you\u2019re hopeless,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019ll be there in the morning.\u201d<\/p>\n
The loud flapping drew my eyes skyward too, and there she was. Maria broke through the clouds beneath a giant net of deflating balloons, her red-white burqa waving like an Austrian flag behind a strong gale. She landed hard, but not too hard, and then she stood and looked in our direction.<\/p>\n
Heinz looked at me, and I at him. Neither of us knew what to say, though for very different reasons. I turned and hurried to my guest, to see if she\u2019d been injured. She hadn\u2019t, at least not on the outside. But she made a horrible sound that could only be likened to weeping.<\/p>\n
Heinz caught up to us, his nose getting a dose of the methane. He stood silently while I tried to console her.<\/p>\n
Maria stammered between sobs. \u201cThe holders … they holded … thank you … much so.\u201d <\/p>\n
I looked into her dark eyes, but they were still lifeless and cold, black like engine oil. I felt an urge to embrace her.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey took me up,\u201d she continued. \u201cThe water and me, they took we up.\u201d She wailed some more, and I laid a hand on her shoulder. I was shocked to find not flesh and bone but cold, hard metal. <\/p>\n
Behind us, Heinz had caught up. \u201cYou\u2019re damn strange,\u201d he said, with typical grace. \u201cWhere\u2019re you from?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cForget it Heinz, she won\u2019t–\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGJ 699,\u201d she did.<\/p>\n
Heinz didn\u2019t flinch, but my head was spinning. This was a code, and it had a meaning. According to the Gliese Catalogue, my visitor was from Barnard\u2019s Star.<\/p>\n
Suddenly, a blazing bright orb appeared high above us. It accelerated southward and away and then, just as suddenly, it disappeared. Seconds later we heard the thunder, a loud and very strange thunder, which ceased just as fast as the flash had gone. It could have been my imagination, except that Heinz had heard and seen it too. He clucked like a man-sized chicken, and then shook his head lightly, eyes narrowing as disbelief spread to his innermost bits and pieces.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt was them,\u201d Maria explained. \u201cIt my family and the space boat. They go now. They now safe are. I can say now.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSay? What?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cAll,\u201d she replied.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019re listening, aren\u2019t we Ingo.\u201d My brother was suddenly very interested. It really wasn\u2019t like him.<\/p>\n
I nodded, and Maria told us everything. About how she and her family had travelled from their world on a scouting expedition. About how they had orbited and studied Earth for years, and how their advanced cloaking system had allowed them to do so undetected. About the collision with the space debris, and the leak, and the venting of their hydrogen stores, and their critical need for fusion fuel for their return home.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe water,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, the water. Why it is I come.\u201d<\/p>\n
She hadn\u2019t been thirsty at all. Her robotic body required no hydration, nor nutrients whatsoever. But once she had a few liters of water, all she needed was a decent balloon, and the right timing, to get plenty of fusion fuel within range of her starship\u2019s tractor beam. <\/p>\n
\u201cIt worked, the cabbage net,\u201d she said. \u201cIt holded the holders. But why not bigger your nets?\u201d<\/p>\n
I wasn\u2019t sure how to reply. <\/p>\n
\u201cWhy? If bigger your nets, I would be go too. I would be now with them.\u201d She looked skyward, and Heinz and I did the same. \u201cThe methane is too like air. Too heavy is it. I must let go the water. It and helium go up, me and methane down come.\u201d <\/p>\n
This was Maria\u2019s \u201conly if,\u201d and sadly, it had come to pass. She had come here for her family\u2019s benefit, alone, a stranger to an alien place. And, when needed, she sacrificed herself. <\/p>\n
\u201cChrist,\u201d Heinz exclaimed, visibly shaken, clearly searching for words. \u201cI\u2019m not saying I believe her, now, but just suppose it\u2019s true, what she\u2019s saying. Just suppose she\u2019s not lying. Then it really is amazing, you know, that thing she just did.\u201d <\/p>\n
I might have seen a tiny droplet freezing in the corner of his eye. <\/p>\n
\u201cShe must be exhausted,\u201d he said, with oddly wavering voice. \u201cLet’s take her in.\u201d<\/p>\n
We began the trudge back to the house, Heinz carrying the spacewoman in his arms like a robotic child. For some reason, I began to wonder what this might mean for Sepp. I turned to my big brother, and his Lodenhut and Dachstein woolwear jacket, and the red-and-white, eagle-embroidered scarf cinched up to his ears. <\/p>\n
But I wasn\u2019t brave enough to ask.<\/p>\n
Marc Humphrey is the co-author of Idiot\u2019s Guides: Quantum Physics and Idiot\u2019s Guides: Physics. His fiction has appeared in Bards and Sages Quarterly, the J.J. Outr\u00e9 Review, and SPANK the CARP. <\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
\u201cThe rig, it was right here,\u201d I panicked, to Heinz. \u201cWhere the hell could it have gone?\u201d We stared at the empty patch of snow, beside the long hose and the discarded boots and cylinders, and wondered about the spacewoman. He looked at me with typical, big-brother derision. Twin jets of irritation streamed from his …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":105477,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,19768],"tags":[19769],"class_list":["post-132769","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","category-tcl-28-summer-2018","tag-the-colored-lens-28-summer-2018","entry entry-center"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/132769","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/105477"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=132769"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/132769\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":133444,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/132769\/revisions\/133444"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=132769"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=132769"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=132769"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}