I managed to squeak, “Put you up?”
“That’s what he said. It means you will give me food and some space in your dwelling for a while.”
“I know what it means.”
“Well?”
“All right, all right—I’m thinking about it.” She was literally covered with hair. Except for her face, and even that was quite fuzzy. She resembled more than anything else a large, talking chimpanzee. “Are you from K-PAX?”
“Of course I’m from K-PAX. Otherwise I wouldn’t know prot, would I?” She spoke quite loudly and very fast, much faster than prot. It was hard to keep up with her.
Despite her hirsute appearance and somewhat belligerent manner, I found myself drawn into the conversation whether I liked it or not. Apparently K-PAXians of whatever nature had this effect on people. “Not necessarily,” I countered. “You could have met him on one of the other planets he has visited.”
Flower came back with her squeaky rabbit, which this… being… grabbed and tossed into the living room. “Not likely. He’s retired from traveling, remember? Says he’s seen enough.”
“So he sent you.”
“I didn’t say he sent me, you doofus. I said he sent a message.”
At this point Karen drove up. I told our new guest to make herself at home, that I would be right back, explaining, “I have to help my wife with the groceries.” Of course I also wanted to prepare her for what she would find inside. Our visitor stared out the window for a moment—evidently she had never seen anything as primitive as a motor vehicle—before shrugging and wandering on into the house, Flower following eagerly with her toy.
I ran outside. Karen was already opening the car door. “Just a minute!” I yelled.
“What? What’s the matter?”
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
She got out of the car. “Fine, but help me with the groceries first, will you?”
“We have another visitor from K-PAX.”
She seemed amused. “Really? Who is it this time—prot’s mother?”
“She’s not related to prot, as far as I know. I don’t think she’s even the same species.”
“No kidding! Well, help me with these bags and let’s go in and meet her.” I should mention here that nothing on Earth fazes my wife. Even something from a different galaxy, forty feet tall and with seventeen eyes, would have to work hard at it.
I grabbed a couple of sacks and started toward the door. There was no point in trying to describe the alien creature. She would see for herself soon enough. “I should warn you—she seems a bit more outgoing than prot.”
“How refreshing.”
We set the groceries down on the kitchen cabinet. Karen looked around. “Well, where is she?”
“She must be in one of the other rooms.”
“This isn’t one of your mushroom dreams, is it?”
“I have a feeling I’m going to wish it were.”
At that point our visitor reappeared, Flower at the heels of her huge feet. “Why do you need all those rooms?” she demanded.
“Because we have a big family.”
“Oh, yes. Prot told me about your attachment to ‘families.’ Very peculiar, don’t you think?”
My wife was still unflapped. “What should we call you?”
“Call me ishmael.”
Neither of us responded.
The ape-like creature burst into laughter, or what passes for laughter in her species: a piercing, hoot-like giggle. “He said you had no sense of humor! Actually, my name is ‘fled.’”
We stared some more.
“You were expecting someone else?”
Karen said, “We weren’t really expecting anyone. But please—sit down. Are you hungry? Has Gene shown you the facilities?”
“No, but if you mean the excrement catchers, I found three of them. Isn’t one enough? And yes, of course I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten in months. Your months, of course.”
“Of course,” I murmured dismally. I was already contemplating a long period of disruption, confusion, and possibly even debacle. I excused myself to make use of the facilities.
* * *
While I was sitting there I ran over in my mind some of the ramifications of what I had just seen. K-PAXians seemed to sleep wherever they found themselves and eat whatever was around. So what did she mean by our “putting her up”? Would she want a room of her own or, since the weather was already growing warm, would she prefer to sleep outside in a tree? What did her species (whatever it was) eat? Could we get her to wear clothes, and if so, would she look as silly as a performing chimp? (I should mention that her genitalia, like her face, were not covered by hair, and were quite noticeable.) But, if not, would she be subject to stares and ridicule for running around naked?
More importantly, perhaps: why did she come here? And how long was she planning to stay? I remembered her opening statement: “I have a message from prot.” What was the message—another attempt to get us Homo sapiens to behave ourselves? No, that’s wrong; prot never made such an appeal. In fact, he didn’t seem to care much what happened to us. He was, he said, merely observing the Earth and its inhabitants (see “Prot’s Report to K-PAX” in K-PAX:TheTrilogy, Bloomsbury, London, 2003).
It briefly occurred to me to wonder how we would know whether she really came from K-PAX. But of course she couldn’t have come from here—we have no talking (in the usual sense) apes on this planet, as far as I know. I laughed, hollowly to be sure; I was going around the same circle I had traveled with prot nearly fifteen years earlier (God, has it been that long?). While reaching for the toilet paper, I came to an understanding with myself: this time I wouldn’t fight it. I would just accept her statements at face value and see what came of them.
When I got back to the kitchen our unannounced guest was digging into a large bowl of uncooked kidney beans. Not with those long, hairy fingers, but with her protruding lips. She was obviously enjoying them, washing them down with loud swigs of apple juice. Flower was sitting beside her chair patiently waiting for something to fall, as if our surprise visitor had been living with us all her life, while I tried to take it all in—her rapid movements, the air of self-assurance. It occurred to me that she could take care of herself in any situation. I certainly wouldn’t want to tangle with her.
While I waited for her to finish her simple meal, Karen filled me in on what I had missed. Fled had told her that Robert and Giselle were as happy as gonks (clamlike beings on K-PAX), and that “baby” Gene, almost eight years old now (in Earth terms, of course), was becoming, like his father, quite an expert on the native flora and fauna. He even had a girlfriend about his age, formerly from Ukraine. Oxeye, too, was still fit and energetic at fifteen, having a whole planet to run around in. He, too, had a playmate, another Dalmatian prot had rescued from a pound “nine thousand jarts west of MPI.”
Bess and Frankie were fine, too, though fled didn’t see them much. Bess, our former psychotic depressive, spent much of her time visiting other worlds. As a retired psychiatrist I suspected that this was her attempt to make up for her childhood years tied to the family tenement, endlessly cleaning and cooking for her parents and siblings and rarely leaving the place. But who knows how the mind works, human or otherwise? During prot’s visit it became painfully obvious to me that I certainly didn’t.