"Absolutely right. That’s cuz I’m an asshole."
"Do you have a name, Mr. Asshole? Do you have a location?"
"Yes and yes. See? I can answer questions with the best of ’em. And before you get your knickers in a knot, let me reveal myself in a tiny fraction of my eye-popping glory."
One second I was looking at starry space, unable to see my own body; the next, I was standing in the flesh on a fiery red plain that was definitely not inside Starbiter.
The Fiery Red Plain
Less than a stone’s throw away, chunky pools of lava hissed up thin streams of smoke, making the air ripple with their heat. Small black things swam in the crimson-hot pools, two-headed slugs that slithered short distances along the surface, then buried their noses into the magma and dived out of sight. There were insects too, buzzing loudly enough to be heard over the molten sizzle, flying from one smoke streamer to another and pausing briefly inside each, as if sipping from flowers.
As soon as I thought of flowers, a garden sprang up around me: a garden that had not been present two seconds before. I did not recognize the plants — they were scarlet and black, with huge limpid blooms hanging heavily at the level of my thighs, their petals the color of human blood. They rustled restlessly against my legs and against each other, though I could feel no wind. I felt no heat either, nor the ground beneath my feet, nor the touch of the flowers, though I could see them brushing my skin… and suddenly I realized the truth.
"This is a simulation!" I cried. "Nothing more than a trick. You are transmitting sights and sounds to Starbiter, who is transmitting them to me; but I cannot feel anything, because the Zarett is unable to send me such sensations."
"Ooo, aren’t you the smarty-pants!" said the voice. "Except for the pants. Doesn’t your backside get breezy?"
I looked around. There was no sign of anyone else in the bubbly volcanic landscape — nothing but the garden and the lava, plus some peaky black mountains on the farthest horizon. The sky was empty too: an ashy maroon with no clouds or stars. "Are you hiding, Mr. Asshole?" I called. "Or are you preparing an extravagant entrance you think will impress me?"
"Bright girl," the voice chuckled. "You’re obviously miles ahead of my feeble brain."
With a surging explosion of smoke, something erupted from the depths of the closest lava pool. It was big and white, with fizzing droplets of molten rock running off its hide. Where the drips spilled onto the blood-red flowers, the plants sprouted brand-new blossoms that appeared with a soft screaming sound. The screams were an excellent touch — if one intends to simulate a volcanic garden, there is admirable showmanship in flowers that howl as they grow.
But the white thing continued to rise from the magma, as if it were standing on a submerged platform being lifted by an elevator mechanism. I could see now the beast was exceedingly leathery, the approximate size and pebbly texture of a rhinoceros.[4] It had four massive legs and even a fuzzy tail tucked between the armorlike slabs of hide covering its haunches… but unlike a rhinoceros, this creature had no horn. It had no nose at all, and no eyes or mouth either, because the animal completely lacked a head — its neck simply stopped at the throat, where an open hole led back into the chest cavity.
[4] — Although I had never seen a living rhinoceros, the teaching machines in my village had shown me many excellent pictures of them. Also elephants. And kangaroos. And many other creatures who did not make their homes in my part of the world but had endearing qualities such as being eaten by their mates or spitting lethal venoms.
As I watched, the headless creature leaned forward so the hole in its neck tilted downward. A thick gout of lava poured out of the gap, as if the beast were emptying unwanted fillage that had flowed into the opening while submerged. "God, that itches," the animal said in a gargly voice. It made a hawking sound in its throat the way a crude person does before spitting; then a wad of lava spurted out the neckhole and splashed back into the pool.
"That’s better," it said in a much clearer tone. "How ’bout you? Not too intimidated by seeing the real me?"
"Why should I believe I am seeing the real you? Since this is just a projected image, you may look nothing like a headless rhinoceros. You could be something small and squishy, attempting to make yourself look more impressive."
"If I wanted to make myself look impressive, I’d pick something better than a headless fucking rhino." The beast stepped from the surface of the lava onto the solid ground of the garden; the flowers he tread upon gave high-pitched squeals and dragged themselves out of the way, ripping their roots from the soil and replanting themselves at a safe distance. I stared at them… and the beast noticed me looking. He glanced at the fleeing plants, then up at me. "Too much?" "Yes, You are trying too hard to dazzle me."
"Fair enough," he said. "Screw the special effects." He slopped across the garden toward me, now moving through the flowers as if they were not even there. They did not screech or pull away; they did not even quiver as his body passed through leaves and blossoms that were no more solid than smoke. Or perhaps it was the beast himself who had become insubstantial — large and white and unnatural, coming toward me like a decapitated ghost.
As the creature drew nearer, I got an unobstructed view of the gaping hole where his head should have been. The sky’s dim red light did not pierce far into the beast’s inner blackness; yet down his open throat, as deep as his heart and lungs, two crimson orbs glowed like the dying coals of a campfire. I suspected these were Baleful Burning Eyes, buried in the recesses of the creature’s body… but if so, it was a most foolish place to locate one’s sight, because one’s view would be greatly restricted by the sides of one’s own neck.
I myself would not enjoy that type of tunnel vision; but then, we must not expect aliens to see things our way.
Introductions
"So," the beast said, "let’s deal with formalities." He took a deep breath, then rattled off quickly, "Greetings-I-am-asentient-citizen-of-the-League-of-Peoples-I-beg-your-Hospitality-what-a-load-of-hor seshit."
"Oh yes," I replied. "Me too. Except for the horseshit."
I was vexed I had not been the first to speak the required phrase. As official communications officer, I should have been faster, but this creature had deliberately distracted me with ostentatious spectacle, so that was my excuse.
"And it’s time to introduce myself," the creature said. "I’m called the Pollisand. Does that ring any bells?"
Searching my memory, I could not recall hearing the name; but suddenly I remembered my conversation with the woman in the Tower of Ancestors. She claimed I had been visited by a big white thing like some animal, except without a head. "Your name is unfamiliar," I said, "but you came to me on Melaquin, after I fell."
"Give the glass lady a transparent cigar!" the Pollisand cried. "I brought you back from the dead."
"You did not! I am not such a creature as can die."
"Oh, you can die, cheri," the Pollisand said. "You are more than capable of that little feat. The only reason your species doesn’t kick the bucket more often is because you’re a bunch of pre-industrial hayseeds — so damned Paleolithic, you’ve never invented weapons more lethal than pointy sticks. As if those could pierce your hard glass heinies!
"But," he went on, "you’ve left your world behind now, sweetums. You’ve entered the hostile high-tech universe, and there’s many a method to make you a corpse. Monofilament garrotes that can saw through your jugular. Hypersonic pistols to shatter your glass guts. Plain old dynamite or plastique. And that’s not to mention alien microbes or toxins — you may be immune to the diseases and poisons on Melaquin, but I guarantee you weren’t built to handle every damned biochemical compound in the galaxy. Bump against the wrong kind of leaf, and you might keel over like a poleaxed steer."