Mystical Sci-Fi Story
Enjoy a mystical sci-fi story, continuing the Newearth adventures with Relevance and Variant all grown up. Are they ready to party?
Clouds as big as motherships progressed across the blue sky, dropping rain showers as they went. The edge of plowed fields glowed in spring green contrast, while budding trees stood silent, waiting. Shiny orbs hung on the edge of pine branches—potential…what? Liquid nourishment for the wakening soil or the final drop in a flood, carrying desperately needed topsoil far, far away?
Relevance in dark pants and a light cotton shirt stood on his porch, his muscular hands clasping the wood railing, watching the sunset. Melodic chords of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata resonated from the glossy grand piano in his living room. Inside, Variant, though only a beginner, played with a neurosurgeon’s precision. She had wanted to play this piece above all others, so, in her single-minded way, she had practiced, line by line, this one piece until it resounded with the perfection of an accomplished pianist. Only he knew that she could play nothing else. She would never care to know anything else.
His fingers still tingled with the vibration of violin strings as he accompanied her a short time before. His musical repertoire was much wider, since he luxuriated in the magnificent sensation of bringing mere strings to pulsating life. If he liked, recorded music from a variety of worlds with accompanying orchestras was available, but he preferred the glorifying power of playing an instrument all by himself. He could play nearly a dozen, though only half of those with expert finesse.
The sun glowed like an orange ball, hovering just above the horizon. This day was coming to a close, and relief filled him at the thought. Why had he offered to celebrate a day that no one really knew or cared about? Frankly, he didn’t even believe in birthdays. He had no reason to doubt the veracity of his parents, such that they were, or his maker, fool that he was, but the day the biomb was cracked open and his body exposed to the elemental forces hardly seemed like a day to mark with celebration. But it wasn’t his birthday, anyway. The next milestone, his thirty-third, would not be reached until mid-August, OldEarth reckoning.
No, it was Variant’s day. No one knew the actual day of her birth, as no one had cared to record it, as no one had cared in the least about her. She was a product of a woman’s egg and a man’s sperm, forced together by an obscure scientist who liked playing with genetics. Once the mottle-skinned, odd baby girl was released from her biomb, only an enterprising Ingot trader saw the slightest worth in her.
She was utilized. That fact kept her alive. Which was good enough for her. Or at least, it had been. Until yesterday. When she bumped into a strange woman who shrank away from her as if bitten. Variant was used to nasty reactions, as her mottled skin often reminded humans of snakes, and aliens knew better than to trust her mismatched eyes. But this woman touched off a cascade of childhood memories in Variant, sending her into a violent fit.
Interventionists would have taken her to Bothmal for all the destruction she’d caused. But Relevance intervened. Instead of Bothmal, he took her to his home and promised her a birthday party.
Using a variety of templates from an ancient OldEarth database called Picturesque, he culled the necessary ingredients for a prime birthday party: balloons, a frosted cake with an abundance of candles, a stack of nonsensical presents, and he even hired six co-workers from the hospital where he worked to stand in as guests: a middle-aged human nurse, the Ingot janitorial manager, a Cresta organ transplant specialist, a Uanyi accountant, and two Bauchi doctors. Given enough alcohol and a variety of snacks, they were only too happy to party at his home for a woman they did not know.
Gone now, their sloppy, half-drunk goodbyes still rang in his ears. Variant hadn’t even seemed to notice them. Or the cake, the balloons, or the presents. All she noticed was the piano. He told her that if she behaved herself and did everything he asked, whenever he asked, she could have it.
No words were spoken. She never agreed in any formal language. But when she sat down, pulled up the musical score for the Moonlight Sonata on her datapad, and began to practice, he knew that she was his. Possibly, forever.
The sun down now, the sky a haze of pink and purple, he pulled out his own datapad and considered the woman Variant had identified as the “disturbing force” that had caused her to go into such a mindless rage.
Facial recognition identified her as Clare Smith, a sixty-three-year-old woman and a longtime member of the Newearth Human Services Department with a nearly spotless record. She had one son: Herson, the first Human-Tabun crossbreed created in a Cresta lab.
The irony smacked of what many would call mystical forces, but Relevance knew better. There was no way that Variant could have known. On a busy Newearth street, she had literally run into the mother of his half-brother. His own mother as well.
Darkness descended, and the weak rays of light faded.
As if a gigantic gear finally fell into place, his mission was set. Relevance knew what he wanted for his birthday. He smiled, though he had never known an ounce of mirth. It was time to be reintroduced to his family. But this time, there would be no party.
A. K. Frailey is the author of 17 books, a teacher for 35 years, and a homeschooling mother of 8.
Make the most of life’s journey.
For novels, short story collections, and inspirational non-fiction books by A. K. Frailey check out her Amazon Author Page
“Science fiction at its best! Creative, thought-provoking, and visual.” ~Lindens
“…delightfully, yet seriously, points to the great value in simply being human.” ~Kaye
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