I declined to comment on that. “Does everyone speak the same language?”
“Well, some creatures don’t speak, of course. Not in the way you mean. But for those who do, certainly. On EARTH, even the humans have several hundred languages among them. It’s as if no one wants to communicate with anyone else.”
“Go on.”
“So early on we find out what’s good to eat and where to find it, why there are stars and galaxies, where babies come from, and so on. You know—the important things. And of course we learn to share everything. We aren’t taught to take whatever we want from someone else, like certain beings I could spit on.”
“Let’s try to focus on—”
“Yes, I didn’t think you’d want to talk about that. Anyway, on K-PAX it’s different. As I started to say before the rude interruption, as children we spend a lot of our time, together or individually, just sitting and looking at the fields, and the mountains, and the sky, and all the things that are going on there—you know, the totality of it. How it’s all related, and how the littlest thing would change the balance and ruin everything. We absorb that at a very young age. And when it gets dark, which doesn’t happen often because of our two suns, practically everyone on the PLANET lies down and contemplates the sky. It’s probably the most beautiful thing there is. Most of the beings on your WORLD, on the other hand, can’t even see the sky, your cities are so polluted by your streetlights and neon advertising and all the rest. Not that it matters: hardly anyone would look anyway. Have you ever noticed that your fellow sapiens don’t care about much, doc? Except themselves, of course. Not their fault—that’s how they’ve been taught. Anyhoo, on K-PAX we never get enough of the sky. I suppose that’s why we start wandering around the galaxy at an early age—it’s such a natural part of our existence.” She paused to take a breath. “I don’t know which is more fascinating to the children of K-PAX: the sky or sex.”
Ah, I thought. Now we’re getting somewhere. “Your children are interested in sex? When does puberty happen?”
“At birth.”
“Birth?? Good God! And you remember that occasion, right?”
“Of course.”
“Do you recall your first sexual encounter?”
“I remember everything.”
“No lapses. No sessions with a krolodon (a memory-restoring device).”
“Nope. Never needed one.”
“Who was your first experience with?”
“A little boy I knew.”
“Knew? You don’t know him now?”
“I see him once in a while. But he’s not a boy any more.”
“And do you remember him fondly when you see him?”
“Not especially. It was just a brief encounter. Not one of your ‘love affairs.’ We don’t have soap operas on K-PAX.”
“Well, do you remember all of your sexual encounters?”
“Not in intimate detail, I suppose. But basically, yes. Don’t you?”
“No.”
“Pity.”
“And nothing traumatic happened during those early years? Unpleasant? Frightening?”
“You mean sex-wise?”
“Any-wise.”
“Not really. Unless you count my mother leaving me when I was weaned.”
“How old were you then?”
“About one EARTH year, give or take a few weeks. She just got itchy feet, as you sapiens so descriptively put it.”
“And you never saw her again?”
“No.” She stopped chewing for a moment and stared off into space. Thinking about the good times with her mother before she disappeared, I presumed.
“And your later years? Anything traumatic, unusual?”
She snapped back to attention. “Not really. Some extraplanetary adventures, nothing to e-mail home about.”
“Just sex and more sex, is that it?”
“Whenever possible.”
An interesting, if rather distasteful, thought suddenly came to me. “Fled, you don’t have sex with all those other K-PAX species, do you?”
“Well, not with spiders or worms, of course. But with other species, sure. And if the genus is different, there can never be any children to complicate the issue. No pun intended. Didn’t you ever have a biology course, gino?”
“Not one on K-PAXian biology,” I replied, with some exasperation.
“Well, that part’s the same as it is here. And on all the other PLANETS I’ve visited, too. Of course the shoe has to fit before you can wear it….”
“The shoe—ah, I see what you mean. All right, then, tell me: do you experience any pain when you have sex?”
“Are you kidding? Do I look like a masochist to you?”
“Can you tell me why the dremers have that problem?”
“No idea, coach. Why didn’t you ask prot?”
In fact, that’s one thing I didn’t ask him—whether he knew why it was so physically painful for his species. I’ve kicked myself every day for that little oversight. “So you’ve had sex with how many partners? Of whatever species.”
She scratched her head. “Well, let me see. There was oker, and rabo and—”
“Not all the names. Just—”
“Oh, I don’t know—ten thousand, maybe.”
“And with members of your own species? No pun intended.”
“Who knows? A few thousand, probably?”
“Good God. And how many—uh—children do you have?”
“None.”
“None?”
“You’re playing deaf again, gene. You’re a psychiatrist; why do you suppose you do that?”
I chose to ignore that comment. “You mean you use contraceptives?”
She grinned, perhaps amused by my ignorance. “No, it’s just the opposite. On K-PAX, in order to produce children, you need to add something to the recipe that stimulates the fusion of sperm and egg. If you don’t have that ingredient, nothing happens.”
“How fortunate for you. And what is this magic potion you need for procreation on K-PAX?”
“It’s not an ‘potion.’ It’s a fruit.”
“What fruit?”
“Sugar plums.”
“And you’ve never had a sugar plum?”
“Once or twice. They’re delicious! But then I abstained from sex with another orf for a while.”
“Does this mean you don’t want any children?”
“No one on K-PAX wants any children, boss, or very few. Otherwise, we’d soon be overwhelmed with adults. That’s a no-brainer, wouldn’t you say? Everywhere but on EARTH, anyway.”
“How old are you, fled?”
“Twenty-three, in EARTH terms.”
“So from the time you were born until now, you’ve had sex innumerable times, and with any number of other species, correct?”
“Pretty much. But why this sudden prurient interest?”
I paused for a moment before asking, not certain that I wanted to know the answer, “Have you had sex with anyone since you’ve been on Earth?”
“Of course.”
I had to ask: “Any humans?”
“A few.”
I paused again before following up with: “Any of the patients?”
“One or two.”
“For God’s sake, fled! That’s one of the rules here—no sex with the patients!!”
“Oh, the rules! The rules! When are you people going to loosen up?”
“Dammit, which ones?”
“I don’t screw and tell. You’ll have to ask them.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“Welcome.”