“She’s spent a lot of time playing on Dr. Goldfarb’s old computer. I guess they don’t have many of those on K-PAX.”
“When will she be back?”
“Fled or Dr. Goldfarb?”
“The latter.”
“You’re already penciled in for lunch with her at 12:30. Is that convenient for you?”
“I guess so. I’ll just call my wife and—”
“Want me to take care of that for you?”
“Sure. Oh, and can you see that there is a bowl of vegetables in Dr. Goldfarb’s examining room?”
She flashed a lovely smile. “Any particular kind?”
“I don’t know. Just have the kitchen send up whatever they have.” I returned the folder to her and headed to the main lounge hoping to find fled. Unfortunately, she wasn’t there. Instead, I found her on the lawn near the front wall, defecating. The patients in the vicinity ignored her. I signaled an orderly to take care of the mess.
When she was finished I motioned for her to come over. Unlike chimpanzees, who run on all fours using the knuckles of their hands, she loped over to me on two. A bit angry at her inconsideration, I started to berate her, only to realize that she wasn’t a child or a trained animal, but an adult obeying her normal instincts. I did, however, suggest to her that, on this planet, we don’t use the hospital lawn as a toilet.
She roared with laughter. “You mean I’m supposed to hold it in?”
“No, dammit. You’re supposed to use the facilities inside, like everyone else.”
“It’s odd, don’t you think, that sapiens are so repulsed by natural processes and not by wars and slaughterhouses and the like?” She wagged her head. “Anyway, the first rain will wash it away.”
“There’s no rain in the immediate forecast,” I informed her. “And we have patients here who might—”
“Oh yes, prot told me there are people here who go apeshit over fecal matter. I can’t see it myself—it must be an acquired taste. But in the future I’ll dump elsewhere. Happy?”
“Delirious. Now how about another little talk? It looks like I’ll be coming in three days a week instead of two.”
“How fun!”
I couldn’t tell whether she was genuinely excited or merely mocking me. But she took the stairs three at a time to Goldfarb’s examining room. “I’m taking the elevator!” I shouted after her.
A very large bowl of broccoli sat on the desk. Perhaps, I hoped, it would take her mind off her preoccupation with sex, at least for the duration of our discussion. We sat down in our usual chairs and she dug in, but not before scrutinizing a stalk and carefully peeling off part of the outer layer.
I had made a mental list of the topics I wanted to cover in the conversation, paramount of which was her promiscuousness. After she had stuffed her mouth with the broccoli I laid down the law. “No sex in this office. Agreed?”
She looked up in apparent shock. “Are you sure? I guarantee you’ll have no problem ‘getting it up.’ Agreed?”
“NO!”
“Okay, coach. But if you change your mind…”
“You’re wasting your time.”
Fled shook her head. “There’s that time thing again. For your information, time can’t be ‘wasted,’ gino. It just is, and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it.”
“Never mind that. Do we have an understanding?”
“It’s your loss. But I can’t force you—we K-PAXians aren’t rapists.”
“I’m relieved to hear that. Next thing on the agenda today are some invitations we’ve had for you. Did anyone tell you about these?”
“Yes, I saw Virginny not more than twenty-six minutes ago. Sounds interesting.”
“You have no problem with going on a live television show?”
“Why should I?”
“And you would agree to behave yourself?”
“You mean according to human standards.”
“Exactly.”
“Oh, what the hell. I guess I could try to be dull and stupid for a little while.”
“Then it’s okay if we accept the invitation? And for the magazine article as well?”
“Why not?” She burped softly and politely covered her mouth with the back of her hand. “Excuse me,” she whispered politely, batting her eyes. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.
“Okay, next thing: Uh…” I looked over the sketchy notes I had compiled for the meeting. “Is there anyone in particular that you came to Earth to see?”
“You mean like Robert Porter—somebody like that?”
As usual, she was way ahead of me. “Well, yes. How did you know about—oh, prot told you.”
“Not everything. I read your books in the library. Fascinating.” She paused and stared at me, her mouth full of ground-up florets. “Did you ever decide whether he was from K-PAX or not?”
“Very funny. But let’s get back to the question, shall we? Did you—”
“I heard you the first time. Nope, there are no Robert Porters up here.” She pecked on her cranium.
I had no reason to doubt this. On the other hand, there could well be personalities she wasn’t aware of. “All right, let me ask you this: It occurs to me that I really don’t know much about you except that you’re an orf, one of the evolutionary stages before the dremers, and more specifically a trod, the final step in that process. Am I right so far?”
“Close enough.” She peeled another piece of broccoli, bit off the stem and proceeded to crunch it, baring her teeth and sluicing it around in her mouth as if it were a hot potato. As she chewed, she vigorously scratched her ribs with another stalk. A bit of green saliva dripped from her protruding lips. So much for etiquette.
I tried to disregard her repulsive table manners. “Okay. So tell me the rest.”
“The rest of what?” she mumbled through the macerated vegetable.
“Where you were born, what your childhood was like, what sexual experiences you’ve had, do you have any children of your own—that sort of thing.”
“Ah. You want an autobiography.”
“Well, not minute by minute. Just the highlights.”
“All right, I’ll sum it up for you. Without going into any of the tiresome details, of course….” With a fingernail, she picked at the bits of broccoli stuck in her teeth and facial hair.
“Fine”—I waved my hand impatiently—“please proceed.”
She flung her feet onto the desk and began. “First, we trods aren’t as nomadic as the dremers. We like the woods or, more correctly, the little clumps of trees here and there. There isn’t enough water on K-PAX to support the kinds of forests you still have on B-TIK. That is, if some fernad hasn’t burned them all down overnight.”
“Fernad?”
“Anal orifice. Anus. Or asshole, if you prefer. You know—like your president and his wealthy corporate cronies.”
“Thank you for clearing that up.”
She paused for a moment, apparently deep in thought. “On K-PAX, childhood is wonderful for everyone. All our species interact from the beginning, and none would think of hurting any of the others. I rolled around with korms and homs and— Oh, you probably want EARTHLIKE equivalents, right? Well, we have all kinds of primates, reptiles, insects, every kind of land creature you can imagine, and a lot more. No sea beings though. For that you need a sea. And birds of every size and color. All of us can communicate with everyone else, so we chatter about whatever comes to mind. Your children start out this way, too, equal to and with empathy for other animals, but it’s quickly driven out of them. You tell them the other species are ‘dirty,’ or ‘dangerous.’ But on K-PAX, everyone enjoys every minute of his or her life, you see, without fear of dirt or danger. You probably can’t imagine such a situation, total freedom from fear of any kind, can you?”