10. Hi #2
It was cold, the same temperature Charlie would feel if she rested her palms against her refrigerator. This was real. It wasn't a screen, or a projection. This was a bona fide window, and on the other side of it, was fucking space.
She was in space.
She was in space.
She pressed her forehead against the glass, closed her eyes, and let the cold ground her.
She was shaking because, holy shit she was in space, but she was smiling.
When she opened her eyes, she caught a faint reflection of herself in the glass, wild-eyed and grinning like a lunatic, and she actually chuckled at how completely insane this was.
A sound behind her broke her from the window.
Right... there were others here, beings shuffling and murmuring.
Reality setting back in, she turned around and looked at the room full of creatures that were, Charlie realized, aliens.
She looked over at the woman with the constellation markings, who she realized was watching her with careful eyes.
The terror came back again, in full force.
Sure, she was in space, but how? And why?
And... with who, exactly? So she went back to where she had been and sat back down on the floor, figuring movement may be a bad idea for the time being before figuring out what the hell happened, and what was in store for her next.
This was when the woman approached. Charlie fidgeted with unease, an involuntary pull backward, because whatever else was true about this situation, this was still a green woman, and the beings around her still didn’t make any sort of sense.
The woman came slowly, hands visible, taking care not to make sudden movements, and her face carried a gentle, soft smile.
Charlie let the woman's face overtake her entire view, her nervous system registering her as safe before her brain could run the analysis.
The woman sat down on the floor, cross-legged, right in front of Charlie. She was still smiling, still gentle with any movements she made.
Charlie watched as she reached behind her and produced a cloth. It looked soft, was pale, and seemed to signify that it was meant for this kind of situation, or at least something close to it. She held it out to Charlie, gesturing at her own face, then pointed at Charlie's.
Charlie understood enough to know it was to help her clean up the batter stuck to her hands, arms, and face.
So, she took it. The fabric was warm and damp in her hands, and started wiping.
Her hands first, followed by her face then her neck.
The batter came off easier than she expected, peeling away in soft sheets.
She could move her fingers without them sticking together and feel air on her face again.
She looked down at herself. Her clothes were still an absolute mess, including her flannel, the coat, her jeans even, but at least her skin was clear.
She looked at the woman and held up the cloth, now covered in batter. "Thank you," she said, realizing after that the woman couldn't understand the words. She hoped, if anything, that her tone carried.
Something in the woman's expression shifted. Warm. You're welcome didn't need a translation.
Then, her mind caught up with her. She realized that some sort of leader person, of whatever this was, had just dropped to the floor, to Charlie's level, to sit with her like they were two girls at a sleepover.
Charlie no longer felt the need to back away now.
The woman pointed at her own jacket. Specifically, at a pin on her upper left breast, marked with some kind of insignia and probably words that Charlie couldn't read.
She moved and pointed to the shining discs along her shoulder, golden metal, lined up in a deliberate row.
She looked at Charlie with raised eyebrows, as if asking, 'Does any of this make sense of what I'm trying to tell you? '
Charlie looked closer at the pin and golden discs, and her brain immediately went to Frank. All those years in the garage, all those stories about the Enterprise and photographs of men in uniform with rank displayed on their shoulders. Rank. Charlie thought. She's showing me her rank.
Then Charlie's thoughts took a turn as she realized what she was being presented.
Wait, am I on some sort of military ship?
Charlie's eyes widened as they moved around the room again.
Holy shit, have I been abducted?! I was at fucking JPL, THE place to build things to go to space!
They could want me for anything! She stopped herself, because that train of thought led nowhere useful, and Charlie was not going to waste time on thoughts like that.
Or, at least, that scared the shit out of her.
Returning to the game of charades at hand, she nodded at the woman, conveying that she understood. You're in charge here. Even if Charlie didn't know what "here" was.
The woman's smile warmed. She seemed pleased that the communication was working.
Charlie took a moment to really look around at the people in the room with her. She let her gaze move from face to face, taking each one in, and the full weight of what she was seeing landed.
There were no humans. Not one, anywhere.
Every face in this room belonged to something that Charlie had no name or classification or inkling to identify.
She was the only one here who looked like her.
These other... beings... had human-like qualities (except for the bear, that one still didn't make sense to Charlie), but they were objectively, irrefutably not humans.
Her eyes went wide. Her gaze snapped back to the woman on the floor. The woman read Charlie's escalation instantly and held up both hands, pressing down gently. It's okay. There's no need to worry.
But Charlie was worrying. There were stars outside without a single...
well... planet anywhere to be found. She was surrounded by beings she'd never known existed until a few minutes ago when she fell into a bowl of batter (which was still something to be worried about all on its own; were these people going to eat her?
!), she's the only one here who looks like a human, and she can't understand anything these people are saying, even if they are nice and safe and kind, happy aliens!
Where the hell was she? Really?
The woman turned her head, showing Charlie her profile.
She reached up and pulled back her lavender hair.
Charlie's brain stopped as she took in the woman's elegance, including the slope of her neck, her strong jaw and sharp cheekbones, and her ear.
Her pointy ear. Charlie stopped there, and watched as the woman pushed her hair behind her pointy ear and indicated something small implanted just behind her fingers.
It looked like a device of some kind. Tiny, barely visible, but definitely there, embedded in the woman's skin.
The woman turned to look back at Charlie, and the expression she held, something patient and steady and entirely without pressure, made Charlie feel that calm again.
Okay, so maybe they weren't going to eat her. That might have been a little harsh.
Charlie decided to take a chance. I mean, how often was she going to be presented with communicating with aliens in her lifetime?
At the moment, she didn't know how to answer that question.
Instead, she scooted closer toward the woman in front of her, not away.
The woman pulled her hair back again, pointed at the device, then looked at Charlie and made a motion with her hand. Thumb and four fingers, pressing together and apart. Repeatedly. Talking.
"Talking," Charlie said, copying the hand movements the woman was making.
The woman smiled, but Charlie also realized she clearly had no idea what Charlie was saying. But something about the fact that Charlie spoke, the sound of her voice, the willingness to try, made the woman point at the device again and repeat the talking motion.
"Talk," Charlie said flatly, repeating the motion again. "Well, I am talking. But I don't think you can understand me."
The woman shrugged her shoulders and shook her head.
Wait a second, now Charlie was confused. That could have been an answer. Could this woman understand her? As a scientist, she decided on a quick experiment.
"What's your name?"
The woman tilted her head at her, then made the same gesture of shrugging her shoulders and shaking her head.
Well, damn. I guess it's back to the Abbott and Costello routine.
Charlie blew out a breath that made her lips vibrate, resulting in quick, sputtering bubble sounds. It was an exhale that Katie always called her "horse noise" and said was deeply undignified.
The woman in front of her laughed.
And the pure sound of this woman's laugh, the first time Charlie heard anything from her, hit Charlie square in the chest. Something in the sound, the warmth, the surprise, the way it broke through every layer of strangeness and impossibility and made everything suddenly feel okay.
Charlie smiled. Wide and unguarded, her "secret smile" she only used when she felt happy with her whole heart. The woman returned the smile, and Charlie felt more ease wash over her.
During the next round of gestures, the woman seemed interested in Charlie and everything she had with her, including her shirt and the writing on it. At one point, the woman pointed at it.
Charlie looked down. Under the batter and the flannel and the aquamarine coat, her Rumours tour tee was just barely visible. The letters across the front.
"Fleetwood Mac World Tour," Charlie read aloud.
The woman heard the sounds but shrugged. Charlie gestured at the shirt and shrugged back. Shared frustration at the wall between them.
The woman pointed at the little device behind her ear again and made the talking motion. Then she turned her head and called out to someone behind her. A sharp, commanding set of syllables.