Chance Acquaintances

Relying heavily on his cypress-wood staff, Manabu dragged his feet along a coastal road. Sunbaked asphalt warmed his soles through the straw sandals. At the rate his motor skills deteriorated, he’d be a limping pile of body parts in no time, much less arrive at the next fishing village. He panted heavily. The taste of brine saturated his mouth. He halted, buttressed himself against the staff, and squinted at the late afternoon sky. He had to admit the light blue firmament had grown on him. The color struck him as odd and exotic at first. But when it came to the aesthetic quality of its sunrises and sunsets, this single star system still left him rather cold; he would have vastly preferred two orbs.

But all that was irrelevant now. The Earth’s sun was nothing to mess around with in summer. An air-conditioned subway in a city like Tokyo wouldn’t have wrought havoc on his systems, but no, his superiors thought it best to send their rookie field agent to one of the smaller islands in the archipelago, Shikoku. “Less risk of accidentally blowing your cover,” they said. “You’ll love it. It should be idyllic. Practically a vacation.” A rural backwater, in other words.

The conical sedge-woven hat—the hallmark of an Ohenro pilgrim traversing this island—shaded his face and neck, but couldn’t shield him from the ensconcing humidity. He smacked at mud-caked patches on his traditional white jacket and pants, releasing clouds of dust. After six months on foot visiting sacred sites along a tortuous route, he’d had his fill and was ready to leave. But he’d still miss going by Manabu, his moniker for this mission. He liked the ring of the name and had grown to appreciate the alien persona it gave him.

His eyes turned back to the road. The occasional fossil-fuel powered vehicle swept past, but there wasn’t a soul in sight. He peered into the distance. The image didn’t focus properly. The internalized AI flashed data directly into his vision, telling him that (a) the road eventually meandered to a fishing village but it was unlikely he would arrive before nightfall because (b) his systems were failing at an alarming rate; and (c) he would have neither fallen grossly behind schedule nor experienced this amount of system degradation had he not ignored the AI’s carefully considered itinerary.

He really must speak with the AI programmers. This was a tad cheeky.

Something started screeching rhythmically, drowning his thoughts. He winced. What now? The auditory volume settings must also be out of whack now. “Can you turn that down? What in the blazes is that anyway? A bird?” he asked. The AI immediately obliged:

                               -Negative. The aural stimuli emanate

                               from cicada, a species of small winged

                               creatures with exoskeletons, known for

                               their loud…

“Thanks we can skip the lecture,” he said and mentally selected the expunge text command. He couldn’t be bothered with minutiae. He was malfunctioning. He needed to find a secluded spot and teleport out. Soon. It would mean cutting his mission by several Earth-days short, but it was either that or breaking down completely and risking technological exposure to humans on his very first assignment. “I’ve completed the bulk of my survey anyways,” he said. “No one’s gonna care.” He faced inland. The AI suggested a shady bamboo grove as immediate refuge.

Negotiating the bamboo thicket was tricky, but the cooler temperature lessened the physical strain, or so he hoped. He hit upon a small clearing centered on a miniature wooden structure—probably a shrine dedicated to a local god—with offerings of rice and fruit laid out in front. The AI confirmed his supposition. He grinned. The painstaking fieldwork wasn’t all for naught. On the edge of the clearing lay a small boulder—a suitable spot to initiate teleportation. Laying down his staff to one side, he perched on the ledge and became eerily motionless. His eyes stared blankly into space.

Insects chirped, leaves rustled, and bamboo creaked. A dim red light started to pulsate in Manabu’s chest. His contours became hazy and gradually translucent. But before disappearing, he slowly rematerialized again. This pattern kept repeating for several hours as twilight befell this quiet corner of the planet.

==============

Approximately 36,000 kilometers above and inside a cloaked space ship, two of Veedril’s arms clicked away at flickering switches on a capacious VR interface helmet. His other two arms slowly lifted it off his oblong head and placed it on an equally oblong head stand. The flashing control panels and humming interfaces surrounding him were the only source of light in the control room. With two eyes scowling at the data streaming down one of the screens, his third eye glanced at the single small window at the fore. The blue-green globe with its swirls of clouds rotated in majestic silence, as planets do, and irritated the heck out of him.

“Please. Don’t do this to me now. I’ve descended close enough in orbit. It has to work.” Scurrying among various knobs and levers with his three arms, he raised his fourth arm and smacked an iridescent globe located on his right.

“Hey, I could really use your help here, AI. Identify problem with unit 76-09X. I’m getting tired of re-initializing. Why can’t it teleport back on board?”

“Unit 76-09X has suffered considerable damage and teleportation is currently off line. Internal self repair-mode is currently underway. Full recovery may require up to 24 earth-hours.”

His avatar was safe for now in that bamboo grove, but Veedril didn’t like the idea of a human stumbling upon his avatar when there was no guarantee he could control it and act convincingly human.

“Alright, can we self-destruct, then?” Veedril gnawed at his tendrils.

“Negative. The self-destruct sequence is also currently off line. Please wait until full recovery is achieved. Please also be reminded that by initiating the self-destruct sequence you risk being financially liable for the lost unit.” This AI had a knack for rubbing Veedril the wrong way.

“If I could just teleport down there myself and fix it.”

“That would be inadvisable. The system is not capable of teleporting organisms.”

“Yes, AI, I know that. I was just talking to myself and you know it.”

Veedril groaned. His four arms went limp. “So much for the latest and greatest in avatar droid technology. We should have stuck with the old micro-drones.”

A short while ago he was elated at the prospect of returning home early. Now he was on the verge of screwing up his very first deep-space assignment. And all he could do was trust that his avatar droid could repair itself. Veedril gnashed his beak. He hated waiting. The calm thrumming of his ship seemed to mock his despair. His fourth arm slapped the shimmering globe again.

==============

The night was thankfully uneventful; the avatar droid remained perched on the boulder in the same position—the wildlife took no interest apparently—and his chest had long stopped glowing red. Data from the AI indicated the auto-repair sequence had made significant headway. The news kindled Veedril’s hopes. He placed the VR interface helmet gingerly on his head and reconnected his neural system to the avatar. A whirring rush of sensations swelled in him: the whiff of wet soil, the wind on his cheek, and the dawn shining through the bamboo. He batted his eyelids and willed his avatar to stand up.

Returning to his alien persona of Manabu was a relief. Even if teleportation was still off-line, he could at least move about now and pretend to be in control. He picked up his staff and walked to the edge of the clearing. In the distance the pebbles on the beach clattered as waves washed to and fro. In the six months here, he’d enjoyed collecting telemetry in Earth’s nature equally as much as interacting with humans. But his main mission—observing religious behavior—bored him to be honest. Transport vehicles, inebriating beverages, and recreational behavior (particularly games) were what fascinated him.

A twig snapped. Someone or something must have approached him. He turned around. A human female stood in the clearing, holding a tray laden with fruits and rice. The AI placed her age at approximately 75 earth-years. Her attire matched what a typical farmer in this region would wear, but the tight bun of snowy hair and a pair of spectacles added a scholarly air. The contrast intrigued him.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you,” she said. Her dialect was broad and singsongy.

“No, don’t worry about it.” He smiled back. The simultaneous interpreting system still worked normally, much to his relief.

“It’s not often I find an Ohenro so far off the main path. Don’t tell me you spent the night out here?”

“Well I was under the weather yesterday and wasn’t going to make it to the next fishing village before nightfall. So when I found this clearing I took the liberty of spending the night here. I hope I wasn’t trespassing?”

“Oh don’t be silly. I’m sure the one in charge here approved.” She nodded her head towards the shrine and chuckled. She put down the tray and replaced the old offerings with the new ones she brought. She bowed twice, clapped her hands twice, and bowed one final time.

Turning to him again, she scanned his attire from head to toe. “I don’t often see the classic pilgrim’s garb in full.“ She pointed to his feet. “You’re even wearing the straw sandals. Now that’s impressive. I used to wear them as a kid and hated how they would chafe my soles. I can imagine how tired your feet must be. I’d be remiss if I didn’t offer food and tea. You could use a proper rest too by the looks of it.” Her arm sawed the air in the general direction behind the bamboo grove. “I live up on the hill there.”

He hesitated. According to the regular data updates from his AI, teleportation would not be ready for approximately another 12 hours. The thought of twiddling his thumbs for all that time didn’t exactly exhilarate him. Nevertheless the auto-repair sequence was still underway. Perhaps it was better to stay put and play it safe.

“Now don’t be shy. I won’t take no for an answer.” She walked behind him and shoved him forward with her arms. “We take great pride in helping Ohenro. For us it’s an honor and a blessing.”

Her name was Chiyo Kimura and chatted incessantly as she hiked up the wooded path at a sprightly pace. The repair protocol had restored his motor functions just enough for him to keep up.

==============

The modest traditional home sat atop the hill on a narrow sliver of flat land. She led him around the house to the back and seated him on the edge of a raised veranda looking out on a lush garden of vegetables and flowers. Beyond it the blue-green sea shimmered in the summer sun. “It’s inconvenient up here for sure. But I never tire of the view,” she said and shuffled down a corridor.

She came back holding a pot of green tea, two cups, and some snacks. The AI texted him immediately: food and hot liquids would not interfere with the auto-repair sequence, but should be kept to a minimum. Storing compacted food in the torso for later removal expended energy and the system still had enough fluids to simulate perspiration and blood when necessary; there was no need to go overboard.

“I take it this your first time here?” She poured him a cup. He silently commanded the AI to turn off the heat sensors in his mouth and calibrate the receptors to replace the taste with something pleasant from back home—drinking hot fluids was off-putting enough, not to mention the revolting grassy aroma.

He gulped the cup down. The sour taste of Saprax berries refreshed him. “Thank you, that hit the spot. And yes, you’re correct. It’s my first time here. Been here for six months now and managed to visit all 88 temples.” He pulled out a small booklet from under his jacket and handed it to her. She flipped through a few pages. At each temple the monks commemorated his visit by first stamping a page with the temple’s crest in red ink, then writing the date and temple’s name over the crest in black ink.

“And have you found what you were looking for?” She returned the booklet and poured him another cup.

“I’m not sure.” He swung his dangling legs back and forth. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s beautiful here. I went to a many interesting places and met fascinating people. In the beginning I was just elated to be here. But after a while it all began to remind me of what I really wanted to do. It’s like this trip has rekindled my ambitions. I feel invigorated now and ready to take on more challenges.” Was the Saprax making him glib?

“Then it sounds like it was worthwhile.” She offered him some brown crackers. “I’ve never made the pilgrimage myself, save a few temples close by, but I learn so much from people telling me their stories of why they come and what they gain from it. This is the only house left in the village now, but I intend to stay as long as I can entertain Ohenro like you.”

“Do you live up here alone?”

“The younger generations all left in droves for the cities. Those of us who remained died off gradually. I’m the last one left. But I occasionally get to meet fascinating people from all over so it’s not lonely. Many of them have intriguing quirks.”

“What do you mean by quirks?”

Her eyes widened with interest. “Oh, you know, how you can pour down cups of piping hot tea in one gulp without flinching, for example. It’s most impressive.”

“ Oh, that.” Happily his face didn’t reflect how he inwardly berated himself for his carelessness. “It’s just a habit. At home I always had to drink my cocoa quickly if I didn’t want my siblings to snatch it away and drink it themselves.” As reasons went, this was pretty flimsy.

“And you’re hardly tanned at all. Even with the hat most Ohenro get quite a tan. You must use strong sun block.”

“Yes and I swear by it. I can’t recommend it strongly enough. Without it the sun can really damage your skin.” Tying in medical or cosmetic reasons always seemed to impress humans.

“Indeed it can,” she said. “Heat and humidity can damage all sorts of things in us. But as the monks always say, everything’s ephemeral and constantly in flux. That’s just the way it is.” She glanced at his cup. “Would you like more tea?”

“Thanks, but no. I really should get going now.”

“Oh nonsense! Stay the night if you like. There’s plenty of food for the two of us.

“That’s really kind, but I need to make up for the time I lost yesterday.”

“If you insist, then. Be careful now and I wish you the best in whatever it is you do. Remember. Always be mindful of the present and your surroundings. Don’t take things for granted. They’re often not as they seem to be.”

He picked up the booklet, this unique record of his pilgrimage. “Thank you for being so gracious. Here, I’d like you to have this booklet. Please keep it as a memento. Should the legends be true—and I genuinely hope they are—the miraculous efficacy of the booklet will grant you health and longevity.”

He imagined his superiors moaning about him not bringing the booklet back with him. But this intelligent woman’s kindness touched him and she deserved having it. It was the right thing to do on his last day on Earth.

Several hours later, Veedril’s tense tendrils reveled in joy as Unit 76-09X materialized before his eyes in the ship’s control room. He could now go home.

==============

That night, after cleaning up in the kitchen, Chiyo Kimura walked up to an empty spot next to the refrigerator and placed her palm on the wall. It glowed underneath her hand and the wall slid open to reveal a dimly lit room.

She sat down in front of a glowing console that took up the entire length of the space. She began dictating:

"Target undercover agent identified successfully. The Tyraxins appear to be in early stages of gathering intelligence on primitive planets. They do not use transformative surgical technology and rely instead on avatar droids. This particular droid was experiencing technical malfunctions making it unbelievably easy to spot him.

"Recommend using this evidence to accuse Tyraxia of secretly conducting espionage in the nonaligned zone as proscribed by the Second Tristellar Compact. The agent operating the avatar appears inexperienced and is likely operating solo. Tracing down the ship after it de-cloaks should pose no difficulties with our sensors"

She read over the draft on the screen and chewed her lips. She stepped out and returned with the booklet Manabu had given her. Several pages had water stains on them. “Must have been during that typhoon last week, the poor thing.” She laid it on a side table.

“Delete draft entry, ” she said and sat up and started dictating anew:

"Failed to locate target avatar droid. Though technologically inferior, the Tyraxins appear to be more skillful than we believed in maintaining their cover. Awaiting further instructions."

She affixed her personal code to the report and sent it off. “Here’s your chance, young Ohenro. Don’t waste it. We’re on different sides but you were my guest today; turning you in somehow feels like betrayal.”

The local tradition of helping and protecting Ohenro was rubbing off on her. She’d been assigned here far too long. “It’s time to put in for a transfer,” she said and started dictating.