Excerpt
Excerpt—"Human Beans"
Sun rays shone through the glass roof of the swimming pool that morning and danced jewels in the water, as Wema swam before work. The sky was teal, pillowed with soft clouds. There was an elderly person in the water, and Wema gave them a name: Basket. Because they survival swam in a back float, dead weight. It would have been okay if they'd kept to their lane, but they meandered. Their hands scooped, scooped, causing waves. It made Wema's laps difficult. Water ran up her nose as she freestyled in the next lane, causing her to splutter. When Wema did a tumble turn, Basket was gone.
She drove to the office at the fringe of the central business district. She parked and smiled at toddlers rushing and squealing into a nearby fountain's spray, as their parents watched. She swiped her secure card, and was pleased to see Axe across the partition splitting their desks. She smiled at sie.
"How's it?" said Axe.
"Groan."
Wema tried talking to Axe about Jools and Basket. Axe was solid, reliable. Wema felt safe with sie. Normally sie listened, but today Axe was focused on Wema's bland outfit. Sie looked at the soft hues—the cream of Wema's blouse, the cyan of her skirt—and said in hir barrel voice, "This. Is. Sacrilege."
Sie pulled a drawer on hir desk and whipped out a candy scarf and came round the partition.
"No," said Wema.
"Yes. You're feeling flat because you need more rainbow." Sie arranged the hand-knitted scarf around Wema's shoulders. "Now you look dope."
If Axe were chocolate or wine, sie'd be the party flavor. What Wema most liked about Axe was sie didn't talk with an agenda. Sie didn't sexualize Wema like other people did. Sie talked to her, her. Not to her tits. Sie saw Wema, truly. But there was an air of sadness about Axe when sie didn't know Wema was watching. Now sie took Wema's hand. "Come with me, you need coffee. We've got ten minutes before the divisional meeting."
Outside the world looked normal. Folk walking dogs, kids in strollers, cabs picking up people. A parking inspector was writing up a car. Wema's own sedan was safe in an open car park on an 'Early Bird' special. Up ahead, a P-Plater was reverse-parking badly into a single car spot. They entered Axe's favorite joint: a specialty coffee, bar and bottle shop—no smoking. It was a café with a coffee brand named Ex-Wife.
Axe was saying, "Do you know how many Earth-like planets are in the galaxy?"
"How many." Wema said.
"Six."
"That right?"
"As in some six billion Earth-sized planets orbiting sun-like stars."
"What?"
"And—wild guess this—twenty-four superhabitable worlds, yeah, some warmer, wetter, better conditioned than Earth. The Drake equation's super dope. Tells you ace info about active civilizations in the Milky Way."
"I can't even—"
"Titan's the most habitable extra-terrestrial world within our solar system. It has nitrogen and methane. It's forty percent the size of Earth."
The barista was flustered about Wema, and was apologizing for spilt coffee. A dog-haired teen studied with hungry eyes a platter of salmon cheese cream sandwiches behind the glass-topped counter.
"The haloumi avocado looks wicked," said Axe, moments before the teenager disappeared. Nobody seemed to notice.
Wema looked at Axe. "Did you see that?"
Sie blinked. "See what?"
Wema didn't know what to say.
Coffee on hand on the way back, they passed a jaywalker talking into a smart phone. An emergency vehicle striped yellow, red and blue raced past full throttle. Her mind still troubled, Wema noticed an unmarked cop car on patrol, all black. Funny—well, not funny, just a statement—cops never stopped looking like cops, even on decoy. Clipped hair, razored jaw, falcon eyes.
[continues…]
