I rub my temples. Those aren’t my memories, then. It wasn’t my sister. Wasn’t my parents. Wasn’t me with the buck teeth and the severe myopia since childhood. It’s difficult to wrap my brain around the concept of the memories in my head not being mine. Still no name in my head, though. Try as I might, I can’t come up with any name other than Vivian. Vivi. Viv.
Guess that’s me now.
Biting my lip, I pull on warm clothing and peer out of the tent. Others are moving around our encampment, everyone seemingly busy. I can actually make out faces today, which brings me intense relief. Whatever this madness is, at least I don’t have to go through it half-blind.
The scent of cooking food draws me out of the tent, my stomach growling. Now if I only have the courage to ask for food today. Yesterday I froze up. Couldn’t say anything at all because I didn’t want to be a bother. Today it’s going to be different, I vow to myself. Today I don’t have to be shy.
I glance down at my bare feet, my toes curling against the frosty yellowish grasses. This is the only area without a thick layer of snow, and I heard someone mention something about a ship burning away all the snow when they deposited us. Does that mean most of this world is snowy, then? A vague memory flashes through my mind, of sled dogs and mountains and laughing in the snow. Of someone shoving a snowball down the back of my coat and me squealing in horrified delight.
The memory is gone as quickly as it appeared, but I’m just grateful to have something in my head. Okay. Maybe I’m used to snow. Maybe whoever I was cloned from—don’t panic, Viv, don’t panic—was a winter-loving sort. I shift my weight on my cold feet and wrap my blanket tighter around my near-naked body. Other than the blanket, I don’t have warm clothing.
The big blue scary male stops in front of me, a frown on his face as he looks me over. “You are awake. Are you good?”
I swallow hard, thinking of shoes. Food. Clothes. Instead I nod, because that seems easiest, and then I want to kick myself for being so passive.
He grunts, looking harried. “Good. Go see my mate. She will take care of you.”
Right. Flor. I watch as he hurries away, heading to stand by the slow-moving guy with the reptile skin and the permanent smirk on his face. The smirk turns into a scowl when I’rec speaks, gesturing at a yellow-scaled guy a short distance away.
A sob draws my attention back to camp.
The women here look just as devastated as I am. Two cling to one another, sharing a blanket, and their eyes are glowing bright blue. Another woman rocks herself, weeping, and yet another hunches by the fire, staring at the fire-making implements in her hands as if they’re snakes. Flor pats one of the dark-haired women on the back awkwardly as the stranger sobs. “I know, honey. I know,” Flor tells her. “It’s a lot to take in. Cry it out, then put your big girl pants on and we’ll all get to surviving, okay?”
The woman sniffs and wipes at her face. “I…I guess. It’s just so cold.”
“The men will be back soon and you’ll get a khui, and then you’ll feel much better. I promise.” Flor looks up and brightens at the sight of me. “Just like Vivian here! Look at her all blue-eyed and sassy now. Doesn’t she look warmer?”
I curl my toes against the chilly grasses again and manage a weak smile. Okay, now is probably not a good time to ask for shoes. Or another blanket. I give a shaky thumbs-up and Flor shoots me a look of encouragement.
She hops to her feet and races over to me, that same careful smile on her face. “You feeling okay? Everything in working order? Nothing vibrating?”
“V-vibrating?”
Flor pats my shoulder absently, looking down at the woman making a muck of starting a fire. “Just me making a resonance joke. Pay me no mind. Let’s get your name written on your shirt and then we’ll see about getting some hot tea started, okay?”
I glance around at the others near the fire and no one has warmer clothes. We’re all barefoot and wearing scraps under our blankets. I guess it’d be pointless for me to ask for more. I nod, because what else can I do?
She races away and comes back a moment later with a chunk of coal. Beaming at me, Flor gestures at my front. “There’s a lot of new people and no one’s good with names right now, so I’m labeling all of you guys so it’s one less thing to worry about. You okay with that?”
Swallowing hard, I watch as she points at the woman near the fire. DAWN is written across her front in big blocky charcoal letters. The women sharing the blanket have something written on their chests too, but I can’t make out more than a few lines because they’re huddling together.
I…I don’t want to be labeled. I know what it’ll say. I’ll have VIVIAN written across my chest because that’s the name Flor assigned to me. And it feels weird, because Vivian sounds glamorous and makes me think of Pretty Woman or Hollywood starlets of old and I could not be less like those women. I want to tell Flor that maybe I could just be Viv or Vivi, but all I manage is another nod, my throat tight.
“Great! Thanks, Vivian. Hold your tunic for me so I can write on it.”
A few moments later, I’m branded VIVIAN with the N half hiding under one arm and I feel like a fraud. Hunching under my blanket again, I take a seat by the fire and watch Dawn awkwardly smack the strikers together.
“How’s that coming?” Flor asks, leaning over her.
“Oh great,” Dawn says sarcastically. “Doesn’t it look like I know what I’m doing?”
“You—no! You can’t kill it before you bring it to camp, Valmir! It does no one any good that way! We have to have the animal alive to take the khui! All you brought was lunch if you killed it out in the field.” She races away, her expression a mixture of annoyance and patience. “We talked about this.”
“At least I brought something back,” the cat-like alien growls. “This one is useless! What has he brought for the prizes?”
“Hey?” the human guy—Jason—says. “What the fuck, buddy? I’m trying just like everyone else.”
“You are not trying hard,” the alien snarls at him, his voice thick with a strange accent. “Go sit with the females if you cannot hunt—”
“You need to bring it down a notch, Valmir,” Flor tells him, stepping between the two men. “Let’s not start a fight, okay?”
“I want to fight,” the scaly green one says in an eager voice. “Who is setting up the battles?”
“No battles!” yells I’rec, and things turn into chaos.
With a sigh, I huddle under my blanket and watch as Dawn gives the strikers another go. Instinctively, I know she’s holding them wrong. If she wants to start a fire from scratch, she needs to protect the spark and not just let the wind snuff it out. After watching her bang miserably on the strikers for a bit longer, I clear my throat. “Um…hey?”
Dawn turns and gives me a weary look. “I know I’m shit at it, okay? If you’ve got ideas, I’m all ears.”
I hold my hands out.
She hands me the implements with an expression of relief, and I can tell she’s just glad that it’s someone else’s problem now. I lean in closer to the fire pit, setting the fuel chips—that look a lot like cow patties, if I’m being honest—into a loose pyramid and adding a nest of dried grasses near the base so my spark has somewhere to go. I try shaving the rock in my hand like magnesium, and I’m not surprised to see little curls of it appearing on the nest. This must be the alien version of magnesium.
“What are you doing?” Dawn asks.
“Making it easier for the spark to ignite.” I strike again, and this time the spark lingers in the nest. Leaning forward, I blow gently on it to add oxygen to the ember. It sputters for a brief moment and then grows, catching on the tinder.