Chapter Four
Pommits
Two A.M. Nothing but air.
Eva reached into her purse and flicked open her telephone. She
fingered it tensely while staring over the the treeline, beyond which
the highway lay. Quiet.
She didn’t want to call her brother, but she really didn’t like
waiting. Not in the middle of the night, in a secluded green
space she probably wasn’t supposed to be in. Not for something
that scared her to the point that it was a comfort just to look at the
glowing green screen of her telephone. Should she call him?
Would it do any good? What would he say?
A presence was there in her ear as if someone had opened a
window. Eva stood stiff at attention. Moments later a voice
spoke.
“HellO. Are you there, creature?” It was whispering, and
doing a poor job of it. As always, like a child.
“I’m here.”
“I do not See You.”
Eva sighed. The wind was getting cold, and even though she was
wearing one more layer than she’d expected to need in the summertime,
she’d expected wrong. She was shivering.
“Would you like me to turn on my flashlight?”
“What is a—yes, please do so.”
Eva did so. She angled her flashlight furtively toward the sky,
turning her wrist in nervous motions. She felt like one of her
brother’s friends, staking something out. Or a police
officer. Or someone being pursued by one.
“Are you flashing your Light, Silly? I do not See you.”
“Yes, I’m flashing it! What should I be looking for? A
spaceship?”
There was a rumble of something moving across a room. Some
confusion followed. For the first time, Eva could hear multiple
voices in her ear. She held her finger over her brother’s
preprogrammed number on her phone.
“Are you still there Now, Creature?”
“Would you stop calling me ‘creature,’ please! Yes, I’m
here. Where are you?”
The voice, Jemmiut, read out a series of coordinates. “That
is where we are.”
Eva graimaced, accessed a record in her cell phone, and made an
exasperated noice. “That is not where you should be.”
A pause. “Is that not where you did TELL us to Be??”
“No! You have two digits reversed.” And she gave them the
coordinates she had originally given.
After some muted hubbub, Jemmiut replied. “All right then.
Thank you. We will be there soon then.” Then there was no
more reception.
Eva felt, surprisingly enough, a little relaxed. She had come to
truly believe that she was speaking with extraterrestrials, and while
that decision had provided some solidity to her emotional state, that
solidity had quite a bit of fear cast in it. Now she was no
longer so afraid. The aliens had made a stupid mistake. She
had something on them. She would not be defenseless.
She was still wearing a small smile when the ship arrived.
Startled, she replaced it with a cool intake of breath. An
instant later, the smile was back again.
The ship was a giant cube. Maybe sixty feet on a side. It
was silent, and its thrusters were only barely visible, and it seemed
to move smoothly, but still.
A giant cube.
And it was blatantly visible for anyone to see. It’s true that it
was made of a dark metal, and there weren’t many cars on the interstate
at this hour, and it wasn’t all that close to the road...but still.
Eva couldn’t help but look nervously about until the ship finally came
down nearly to rest. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but
she was a little startled to see a rope ladder tumble through a hole in
the bottom. Her shoulders slumped in what must have been
indignity. Still, she gave a little chuckle. What kind of
entrance was this supposed to be?
It had been a long time since she climbed anything like a rope
ladder. Eva stretched her body vertically, disdaining the chance
to stretch herself fully, as she would normally have wanted to, because
she felt a sort of responsibility for the poorly hidden alien spaceship
should it be discovered, and wanted to take off again as soon as
possible. She walked over to the ladder and took hold. Her
right leg went up, tilting the ladder, and with a graceful jerk, her
left leg went up as well. This threw her completely off
balance. The ladder tilted in the direction of her feet and the
rest of it tilted the other way to compensate. She squealed
slightly, wondering if she was gong to receive any help. At least
she was wearing her walking shoes, and not a dress pair.
She tightened her muscles and her resolve and brought down her chin to
face forward. This exercise would be a suitable distraction from
whatever lurked above her. For whatever reason, Eva did not look
forward to seeing what form the aliens who had contacted her looked
like. She was only just reconciling herself with the fact that
she was there at all. She had decided to come because she did not
know whether the messages had been genuine...and she needed to
know. But when it became clear that this was real—that she, Eva
Durrant, was really in the contact of beings from beyond the Earth—she
began fervidly worrying about whether she ought to have done something
else. The xenologists would have known what to do—provided they
weren’t speculatively educated poseurs, which they probably were, but
still better than nothing. There must have been people to
contact. There must have been further precautions she could have
taken. And, oh God, why was she on a rope ladder?
Well, the way to climb this was probably to let go with one hand and
take hold of the next rung up. Yes, on reflection, that was the
way to go. This was what Eva did. She found herself
swinging clockwise when she changed her pull on the ladder by letting
go, but she did not feel in any danger of slipping. Her feet had
a good grip on the rope below her, thanks to the traction of her
shoes. She wondered fleetingly if the creatures in the ship above
had prehensile feet, making such an instrument as this ladder practical
for frequent use.
Feeling a little bit like she did on her first night in the spotlight
for any new production, Eva managed to swing and twist her way up the
ladder, her purse swinging recklessly by her side. The challenge
felt utterly alien from her surroundings. Already, faced with
nothing more mundane than a few lengths of rope, she was beginning to
wonder whether her experiences were real.
She was only two rungs from the top when suddenly a head poked down
from the hatch. It was large. Dark brown.
Cat-like. No, bear-like. Eva lost her senses, including her
sense of balance. If she hadn’t had a tight grip on the rope, she
would have fallen. As she hung, scared, with all her limbs on the
rope but no semblance of control, the creature opened its mouth.
“Why are you taking so long, lazyhead? Come on up!”
It was the familiar tempo, slurring and dulcet tone of voice. It
was a different voice, though. In a situation where she normally
would snap with anger, Eva found herself contrite. She peered up
at the jovial creature like a cringing animal. “I...I’m sorry,”
she mumbled, trying to get her throat clear and failing. “I think
you’ll need to pull me up. If you please. I’m cold.”
The creature’s fanned ears—she assumed they were ears—flexed toward its
skull and back again. “Okay then,” it said, and disappeared
again. Eva clung to the rung she was on, using her energy for
sheer wonder and banishing the cold, with none left for climbing.
In a moment, she found herself being pulled up. Her head came
into a warm chamber furnished with ...not furnished. That was the
wrong word. As she got her bearings, put her elbows and then her
knees over the edge, and caught her breath, she saw how chaotic the
room was. Things were everywhere, even though she lacked the time
to see what things. Before her stretched the impressively pliable
body of the one who had greeted her: crouched with a deep arch in its
back, forelimbs flat against the floor and yanking on the ladder.
Unlike before, she now got a good look at it: a four-legged creature
(aside from the fact that its forelegs seemed to have a good hold on
the rope), with a not unearthly build. Its head was neither
cat-like or bear-like, or in fact like any animal Eva could name,
although it certainly suggested numerous resemblances. It had its
face in the standard Terran arrangment, with a flattish nose that
flowed fluidly into what seemed a natural overbite, a thick upper lip
with an upward curve in the middle overshadowing a sturdy lower jaw
that recessed quickly to blend with the creature’s remarkably large
cheeks. Its eyes were medium-set, protrudant within their sockets
and bright. Eva wasn’t sure if it had any irises, but she did get
a hint of orange coming from the eyes. The creature’s ears were
the most unusual feature of its face—broad, with many
vertically-oriented joints ending a little points on top. She had
seen the ears decline forward toward the skull; she assumed that they
were also collapsible in the horizontal direction. The neck was
thick and strong.
As Eva crawled forward, she took quick stock of more of the creature’s
body. It was large, probably as large as an average tiger.
It seemed to have no hair, in contradiction of her first
impressions. Its body was dark brown throughout, with reddish
hints. The surface did not somehow seem smooth, but was certainly
not fur-covered. Its shoulders seemed to have a joint even more
universal than the human equivalent: when it had been hauling up the
ladder, its front extremities had been turned completely upward,
seemingly without discomfort. Their extremities, now that Eva
could look at them, could undoubtedly be called hands. There were
only three thick, clawed digits, but with one in the middle and the
others to the sides, they were all opposable and afforded a versatile
grip.
Eva picked up her purse, stood up, and walked partway around the being,
it watching her all the while. She was startled to discover that
a paired feature she had identified as a strange texture of the flank
was really mobile; she saw these large, membranous arcs shift slightly
against the underlying skin. “You have wings?” Eva inquired, a
little offended by how wrong it seemed.
“Yes I do,” replied the creature unthinkingly. It was still
examining Eva and perhaps did not want to be disrupted.
Eva wondered whether the texture she had noticed could be feathers, or
something like them. Even with the possibility in mind she
couldn’t be sure. She observed that it had no tail, a mild
surprise but nothing compared to the wings. Its hefty back legs
had similarly equipped extremities, except that they were a little
wider and the toes a bit more forward-facing.
She took a short glance around and saw that there was another one in
the room. It had said nothing and made no sound, and it was
watching her and the other with apparently moderate interest. Eva
noticed that it was wearing a strap around its back securing something
at its chest, but her eyes latched onto it for the reason that it had
its wings held slightly apart. Vaguely striped surfaces caught
the shadow of its body within. The wings were neither thick nor
thin and had no surprises in their build, but Eva still stared.
Fortunately it did not seem to mind.
“Why do you wear clothes on you all the time?” shyly asked the one who
had startled Eva and hauled up her ladder. Its manner seemed to
have changed a bit since it had called her “lazyhead.” She looked
toward it and opened her mouth, and had trouble knowing what to say.
“I wear clothes...to keep me warm...and to maintain dignity,” she
answered. “I would think you’d know that already. Haven’t
you been observing...our world?”
“A little bit. Jemmiut does the most of the observing. He
has of course given us peeks now and then, but that is not enough to
know why you do things.” The speaker ended its observation by
relaxing on its half-reclined forelimbs and watching Eva with its round
eyes, a hint of orange now clearly visible just above the pupils.
“Do you know my name?” asked Eva, still too amazed by everything to
give a diplomatic response.
“Yes I know your name. Your name is Eva Durrant.” It
lowered its great head somewhat between its legs, breaking eye contact,
and murmured abashedly, “I do not know your middle name.”
Eva’s voice cracked in the beginning of a laugh cut short. “It’s
Geraldine,” she said, smiling.
“Well then,” said the creature, still looking down.
“And yours??” Eva felt fairly comfortable now, if for no reason
other than that she seemed to be in charge of the conversation.
“Balallip.”
“Balallip?”
“That is right.”
Eva turned a little self-consciously to the silent one. “And you?”
This one readjusted its wings a little before folding them. The
movement made no noise.
“My name is Gomeo. But that does not matter. You should
come with me now. Balallip you should also come.”
Gomeo led the way out of the room through an undecorated square door
frame under which she had to duck slightly. Eva expected to find
herself in a corridor, but instead found herself in another room.
Both rooms were of the same large, rectangular size and shape, but the
room she had entered into had been mostly barren but for piles of junk,
wooden and papery and shiny, in unidentifiable shapes against the
walls. This new room was lined with tall metallic shelves on
which a wide variety of objects had been placed. It was not easy
to tell what these objects were, but they were unmistakably in better
repair. Eva identified what she thought might be a telescope, a
sleeping bag, a jar of mechanical parts, a sheet of aluminum or some
other light metal, an oddly built welding torch. She didn’t have
time to look for long. The creature leading her took her around a
corner of shelves into another room of the same dimensions. It
was filled with boxes of sundry items. Pictures, bags tied at the
top, L-shapes made out of wood, balls covered with bristles.
There was a series of long white poles around which rolls of some kind
of tape were hung. Eva longed to stay and look at things, but her
reception was awaiting. She willingly let herself be ushered
onward. Eva wondered whether the entire ship was partitioned into
these rectangular rooms.
She was led up a ramp, a metal ramp in the form of a half-pipe with a
wide floor and a rubbery black surface. There were ridges here
and there along the floor, giving the alien creatures no trouble with
it, but it was steep. Eva was already tired from the rope ladder
and had to take her time climbing.
At the top her hypothesis was strengthened with another rectangular
room. This room, however, was filled with more of the
aliens. Eva’s eyes swam. She got her footing at the top of
the ramp and stepped hazily forward. Eight pairs of eyes were
focused on her. Eight pairs of wings folded hastily against their
owners’ sides, if they weren’t folded already. They looked a
little like children caught playing with toys after bedtime.
Attentive, all of them had their ears fanned out. They varied in
color from black to maroon. Their sizes differed a fair bit; the
largest was probably a couple of feet longer than the smallest.
Some of them had on body belts like the one Gomeo was wearing, which
she could see held tools for them. Three of them were wearing
open-toed shoes on their back feet. One had a pair of binoculars
or the like over its eyes. One had a small brown object that
looked like a fruit; it was under the alien’s foot where it stood,
gripped absently.
The room was dominated by a large window, plastic by the look of
it. Eva could still see the trees and narrow strip of grassland
abutting the freeway that she had encountered on the way in. A
few headlights moved along the freeway. She wondered whether
anyone could see them. Along the window was laid a black shelf of
some smooth substance on which were laid various tools, including three
more of the binocular devices. Under the shelf was a large, gray
box with an open front panel and small tools scattered at its
base. Gomeo strode over to this box, stuck his head inside it as
if using it to peer through the window, and came out again. He
looked at one of his companions.
Gomeo spoke a few words in his own language, and one of the larger
aliens answered back. It was a chirpy, melodic, high-pitched
language with obvious heavy cadences and accents. Often a vowel
sound would be extended and modulated in what sounded a precise and
sometimes comical way. Eva thought the sound quality was nasal,
but she couldn’t be sure that was the right way to describe it.
Once the conversation had finished, the large one stepped forward
toward Eva.
“Welcome to the FriendShip! That is this ship we are on. I
am named Brogoii and I am pleased to speak to you.”
Eva raised her eyebrows in spite of herself. “The Friend...Ship?”
Brogoii glanced back at a maroon companion, flexing an ear inward and
confirming that they did, indeed, move that way. “Yes,” he said
proudly. “That is an idea Jemmiut did have. It is a Ship
because it carries us between places and it is called FriendShip
because it is for making friends. He says that friendship is a
word that you use.”
So these creatures had pun-capability, Eva reflected. How
wonderful.
Eva bowed slightly. “I am honored to be invited aboard the
FriendShip.”
“There are some things you will need to know,” continued Brogoii.
“First, we are all pommits. We are all Living Things like you and
we are proud of it. Second, we would like you to reMain a living
thing while you are here and to be Happy and Healthy. Therefore
if we have made a mistake and you are not healthy and happy, please let
us know. Third, if you see anything that you like on the ship you
may probably take it. We do not need all of our supplies.
We have not even Sorted them all. You see we have been given new
supplies because we are a new crew on the FriendShip because the old
crew is all being asked questions at Home.” Suddenly Brogoii
became bashful and drew in his head slightly.
“They’re being questioned? For what?” asked Eva sharply.
Another pommit with a higher voice piped up. “They are being
questioned because they did invite some aliens onto the ship who
Died. That is basically why you are here.”
“I don’t understand.”
“What part do you not underStand, silly? Tell us and we will
explain it to you.”
Eva took a deep breath and eyed the high-pitched one shiftily. “I
don’t understand a lot of things. First off, why you haven’t
taken off for someplace less visible. You’re still within sight
of the interstate.”
She could not have predicted the scramble that took place to reach the
window and viewing implements beneath it. The pommits bustled
against each other and stepped occasionally on each others’ feet, but
did not scuffle. One small, brownish one announced something in
its own language and, fending its way through the crowd, hurried off
and out the door. The others continued watching through the
window.
Balallip came up beside Eva and looked up sidewise at her. She
said nothing.
“Am I to take it,” Eva annouced in a theatrical voice, “that your kind
is not always so disorganized as this company is presently?”
Several of the pommits looked at her over their shoulders. Some
of their wings unfolded a few inches, and they were not all as silent
as Gomeo. Eva found herself wondering why she had been so bold as
to criticize them like that.
Brogoii spoke. “Sometimes we are more organized.”
“I see,” said Eva. She did not want to press and offend
her...hosts. “I’d like to know a few more things, if it’s all
right with you.”
“Yes, of course,” said Brogoii. Several of the others echoed
their assent in various terms.
“Well then, I’d like to know how it is that you spoke to me. And
knew things about me. And knew when I had the hearing aid
in.” She brought her finger to her ear.
“Well,” said the maroon pommit, “we did basically just Look at you
directly! We have got very nice telescopes to look through.”
“Do you know how to drive a car?” asked the high-pitched pommit.
“Yes,” said Eva.
“Then do you have a license to drive one?”
“Yes!”
“Than That is how we did Know your Name!!! And that you are
fifty-nine years old!”
“You—you checked the license registry for people turning
fifty-nine...for some reason?”
“Only if they had also signed up to buy a Hearing Aid with a Gold
Telecoil!” announced the high-pitched one.
“Ojiann is good with comPuters,” said the maroon pommit.
“And how exactly did you have access to our governmental and hospital
records?”
The group looked uncertainly from one to another. A short pommit
indistinguishable from black spoke hesitantly. “Remote
networking.”
Eva didn’t find this a very satisfying answer, but discovered that she
didn’t really care about the details. “All right. And
Jemmiut—is that you?” she asked the maroon pommit, who unfolded his
ears and nodded—“have been using some sort of wireless broadcast that
for some reason only works on gold telephone coils to ask everyone who
bought one on their birthday if they’re willing to help?”
“That is correct.”
Eva spread her hands. “Why fifty-nine?”
“You would not have Wanted us to Wait until you were Sixty, would
you?” Wings rustled, eyes gleamed in different colors.
“I suppose not,” she said.
“Well then.” Jemmiut turned back to the window. The scene
changed and the sensation of motion seemed to thicken the air.
Eva looked around for a place to sit down. In a corner she found
a crate made from the same smooth, black stuff as the shelf.
Hearing no objections as she did so, she sat down upon it and set her
purse beside it.
All the pommits watched as the ship pulled away from Interstate 190 and
the suburbs of Boston. Lights appeared, twinkled as they were
hidden from view and replaced by others, and then fused into a great
cityscape. The cubical ship rose higher into the night, passed
through a thin layer of clouds which shone gray and misty outside, and
then continued to rise until it reached what Eva estimated was the
mesosphere. Aside from the undefinable off-balance feeling off
motion, there was no indication of acceleration or heat from
atmospheric friction. Everything about this ship so far seemed
perfectly safe—childproof, even. To Eva this was a relief.
The pommits turned in their own time back to Eva. She was seated
with her hands in her lap, waiting for the attention she knew would
come. Once all those present were watching her, she cleared her
throat. “Now then. Perhaps the most important question of
them all. What, exactly, have you brought me here for?”
There was a moment’s shuffling silence. “I had thought that Jemmy
did tell you,” piped up the pommit holding the fruit.
“He—“ Eva paused. “Do...pommits have genders?” she asked, a
little embarrassed.
“’Course we do! I for example have the female gender.”
Other pommits volunteered their own. Eva clapped her hands
sternly to get their attention back. “Is there any easy way I can
tell?”
“Just listen to our names,” said Balallip. “If the first syllable
is stressed that is a male—I mean masculine name. If the second
syllable is stressed it is a fe...feminine name. My name is
feminine because I am female.”
“All right, thank you,” said Eva before the commotion could
resume. “Then...Jemmiut is a male pommit.” Ears fanned; Eva
somehow knew this was a yes. “Anyhow, Jemmiut told me that you
needed me to help...to help understand some other creatures? I
wasn’t listening very carefully at the time. Would these be the
creatures who...died under your care?”
“It was not Our care,” objected a long pommit with scarlet marks.
“It was the care of the Other crew.”
“Yes, yes, all right. Those beings, though? That incident
is what you want me, is some fashion, to shed light on?”
“Yes, that is correct,” answered Brogoii.
“Well, I should be quite glad to do so. But you must see that
the...the request seems very strange to me. After all...look at
me.” Eva gestured to her surroundings in an air of
confusion. “Until two days ago I had no idea that your race—or
any life outside of the Earth, civilized or not—existed. I’ve
been here, with you, for less than half an hour, and still haven’t had
a chance to get my bearings. Nor am I a psychologist....nor a
detective...nor a...a xenobiologist.” She drew the word up from
her brother’s vocabulary as if with tweezers. “And yet, for some
reason, you think that I—better than any or all of yourselves—am
qualified to understand whatever unfortunate event led to these
creatures’ demise?”
The assembled aliens looked at her in silence, shifting and glancing at
one other, one or two pawing at the floor. Brogoii, once more
stepping forward, answered her evenly, looking just to the left of
her. “We did simply think that since you are a cousin of ours and
your people do understand unUsual phiLosophy better than we do that you
might would be able to Fathom what the CaraPacians were Thinking,” he
said.
“Back up,” said Eva. “A cousin?”
“Surely you are a cousin!” somebody cried.
“You are a Earthling. Earthling is all our cousin,” said the
scarlet-marked pommit.
“Naturally we are reLated to the creatures of Earth,” expounded
Jemmiut. “We are after all Breathing the same Air. Look and
see how Much we do look aLike. Look and see.”
“I’m looking—I see!” said Eva. “But what I don’t understand is
how! It’s—I mean it’s astounding enough when a land-bound species
crosses over the ocean. How could a creature from Earth have colonized
your world—or vice-versa—long enough ago for us to have evolved on our
own planets?”
Jemmiut glanced at the pommits behind him and made an inquisitive
gesture. They in turned glanced to each other. Eva caught
an occasional flicking of ears or other gesture which she interpreted
as she would a shrug. At last Brogoii faced her. “We do not
know,” he told her as if their ignorance on the subject were of no
great import.
Eva was getting tired. “Look. I’ll hear more about these
unfortunate guests of yours in the morning—and about our
relationship. For now, would it be uncouth of me to ask for
someplace to sleep? I’m normally in bed long before now.”
Once more the pommits exchanged their glances, this time slightly
nervous. Naturally, they had neglected to prepare a place for
their guest to sleep. Eva resisted the temptation to tap the
crate she was sitting on with her fingers.
“Angorim, you have got a whole big Room to sleep in, instead of a
Half-sized room. Perhaps the human being should sleep with You,”
suggested Gomeo.
“But I do Like to have a Whole Big Room,” protested Angorim with a
whine. She was a squat, slim pommit with a nearly black coat.
“That does not Matter. You are the Only one with a large room and
you should be Happy that you did have it So far to yourSelf.”
Angorim fluttered her wings and folded them once more. “All right
then very well,” she concurred. But toMorrow we should rearrange
our Rooms so that Everybody has got one of their Own.”
“That does sound wise,” said Brogoii. And with a few affirmative
remarks the matter was settled.
“Are you ready to Sleep?” asked Angorim, whose body Eva now noticed was
scored with narrow brown stripes up and down its length. She came
closer and nodded at the far doorway.
“Yes, I believe I am,” said Eva, longing desperately for some time to
think.
“All right then. Follow me!” The female pommit strutted out
of the room, and Eva hastily had to leave her seat, grab her purse, and
follow.
The next room was filled with controls. It was more like what Eva
pictured a spacecraft as looking like, although the black and white
controls were crafted in simple shapes and patterns, more pleasing to
the eye than she might have guessed. The large pommit that had
left earlier was lying on its belly before a little box like the one in
the other room. There was a much smaller window in the wall, and
the pommit was manipulating a lever while peeking through the
box. Eva was not allowed time to inquire.
“This way,” said Angorim cheerfully. Eva followed her into
another room, this one filled with what appeared to be wooden boxes,
and up another ramp identical to the first. Angorim did not seem
to bear a grudge for having to share her room and was eager to help Eva
ascend, but even so, by the time she reached the top she was ready to
collapse. She emerged in a long narrow room, the first she had
encountered on the pommit ship, with painted walls in styles Eva
couldn’t even begin to name. There were ovaline objects scattered
here and there which Eva soon discovered were pliable and soft, like
pillows, although they seemed to be made from plastic rather than
textiles. There was a web of some kind strung between poles at
the end of the room, only a foot off the floor. There were two
corner tables built into the walls, one with what looked like closed
notepads, or perhaps vertically hinged books, on it. There was a
basket of the brown fruits Eva had seen one of the pommits clutching.
There were twelve doors leading out, six on each long wall.
Unlike the other doorways Eva had passed through, these had actual
metal doors on them, ready to close. Angorim led Eva to the end
of the hall, past the webbing on the poles, and through the last door
on the right. They entered a room that eva recognized as a
bedroom despite the unfamiliarity of the furniture. She didn’t
care about the shape of the dresser or the unusual features on the
armoire. She didn’t mind that the bed consisted of plastic
cushions, great and small, arranged on the metal floor. She
simply pulled a few of them aside and made a second bed for herself,
beside Angorim’s. Upon her request for a blanket, Angorim opened
one of the dresser’s drawers and removed a large beige sheet of someone
unknown material and handed it to her. Eva did not mind that the
“blanket” was not perfectly flat or that it had deliberate round holes
cut in it. It was heavy and soft, and she contently lay down and
arranged it auspiciously over herself . Angorim turned out the
light by use of a button on the wall, a custom which Eva felt
comfortingly familiar. The pommit said “Good night” to her as she
shuffled around on her pillows; Eva said “Good night” and meant
it. She closed her eyes and couldn’t believe how quickly she was
able to fall asleep.
Chapter 5
Return