TOOTCH

And so, the moment arrives. Terrified, trembling am I, not of any irrational or justified fear to my life, just the good ol’ fear of fucking it all up. Doubts run through me like rabbits in a paddock, scattered in all directions but maintaining the same blistering pace. Why now? Sure, there were some throughout the process. Aren’t there always of some sort? But not like this. As my dad once said when I asked him, “What are you doing in there?”, as I was of the opinion he was taking too long, “I’m shitting myself, what do you think?”

For everything we now know. The many and all. The individual, the clan, the family and nation. For those nations who are allies. This world so divided. They notion good and evil. We never knew of such. Some are this and some are that to us. Who am I to be righteous? Who are we? We are they. Mixed and many. I came to meet them, not a type of them deemed…better by their own judgements. I’ll take them all. I’ve been too long in my Homeliner. The trip did not go well. There was every chance that was to be the case. But the prize is hopefully worth it.

Alright. I’ve released the hounds and found composure. The pursuit of the rabbits out of the paddock was a success and now I am me again. I come to Middle Room, the circular meeting place that links all seven docking bays of Tingay Station. ‘The Stingray’ as it is colloquially known. I admit a silent laugh thinking of all those years where first contact was thought, according to movies, to be the domain of the USA. Nope. It is going to be an Australian on an Australian space station, and by no coincidence orbiting at such a point that Australia can be seen dominating the main viewing window. Did I mention Australia? Should I offer a vegemite sandwich? No, dammit! No stereotypes!

Leaving my Homeliner I unfold. Pulses energize me. Essentially, I travel dead. Now I am here and it is time to live again. To meet the one who was to be my eternal link. I am not unaware of the occasion. I am not unaware of how history remembers. It will be the same for they. We know how history works in similar ways. I am sure they are just as aware. I can glide now. I can float. It feels so welcome that I flush the three colours of joy. I then hide those realizing it could be misconstrued. Monotone. For now. I hope I can be myself. I hope they appreciate me. I am what I am. I feel a little awkward, quiverous, tight and withdrawn. Just like that. In one unexpected instant. I arrive at this Middle Room.

Ok. Now I’m bouncing off the fuckin’ walls! Like that line in that hundred-year-old classic song, “200 degrees, that’s why they call me Mr. Farenheit!” I could open the door by retina or breath, the easy way. Or I could go sensory and enter the keypad code. Not even sure it still works. I can’t believe it’s even here. Maybe it’s just a nod to an almost lost past. I wiggle my fingers, letting them frolic in the controlled air of ‘The Stingray’. I stop and then open my right hand to use my index finger. Here goes –

7, it beeps! 1, the pad is lit up, 7, ok…the moment, 6!

Options. I was given. Those who arranged this meeting. It is their craft. It is their tech. I am in their obit. I could let them open everything for me. But I am an explorer. That they knew. Which is why they let us know how to use certain techs. How to travel freely of our own will. A good start to relations. No guards. No committee. Just one on one. I can see out the viewport the large landmass of Australia. I would be surprised if that was not by design. Pride can be dangerous. But it is something wonderful as well. Like so many things that twist us. And twisted I still feel, in a biological sense. I calm. I calm. I calm.

It opened! Nothing wrong with old tech if it still works! How I love my fingers. I look in with now that nervous excitement, hoping to see this interstellar miracle. Then again, maybe life is everywhere and this is a big ol’ yawnfest for the rest of the universe. Maybe so, but this is the first time it’s happened to us. Good or bad, the first time is usually the most memorable. In this briefest of moments I lament my first latte as still the best I’ve ever had. I sigh like a bored dog. God, I hope they didn’t hear that. A sigh for a decade of unpredictable coffee could be misconstrued. My eyes dart momentarily as I scan for my ambassadorial friend. Not here. Not yet. I go over the meeting routine again. Keep it simple. In the first moments just safe and sound. A slow extension of an open hand…my fingers, they look like horrible little baked beans on end, why did they pick me? Why not someone with beautiful fingers? How I hate my fingers.

I extend a fibre cluster. Many times I have felt things by this method. But never this. I was instructed it would be hard to enter the usual way. My eyes and other biology hadn’t been matched. They called this the way of old. We live longer so probably not that old. I flush azure. Anticipation. I touch the pad as they call it. It lights up like it’s talking to me. It beeps. It’s wonderful. I continue the process. It’s such a solid piece of fabrication. I press the last and whirl to leave my back to the door. I hear it open. Is it considered rude if I appear first? I turn around. I am second. And I am in rapture. My Homeliner travels me. It reminds me of my world. It simulates but it cannot emulate. This alien being standing with what I know as a smile becomes my destroyer of loneliness. We live across the other sides of the galaxy. We now stand on the other side of a room. We have shown them our biological signs. I hope my marillion bubbles appearing on my flanks are recognized.

When chimpanzees smile it means they are afraid, and possibly starting along the path of trying to kill you. We had trained, or I had, to “not smile for a while.” So, I fucked that up in the first 10 seconds. But how could I not? It was joyous. I’m looking at a sentient being fro- wait! They smiled! That’s their smile!! The bubbles that look like little suns going down – so beautiful.

They walk towards me slowly. I’m still bubbling. I had protocol. I’d met some. Quarantine had to be the critical one. That’s why I orbited for two days. But I understand. It’s not just them and I meeting. It’s our bugs too. I float forward toward the circle in the middle of the room. It was expected neither would smile immediately. Protocol stated I wouldn’t. I would wait. I’ve waited long enough.

“Hello.” I stand behind the sandstone rock on the fringe of the grass circle. I can’t help but compare a run of beautiful grains throughout the stone that are exceptionally similar to that of the skin of there ambassador. They respond in colour and a vocalization like bells. We had known each other’s names before this moment. That had been contained within The Expectation shared between our worlds.

The voice. Hello. The first time I had ever heard it. The word that I will never forget until I die. Is this at all a dream? No. It is not. It is my fate. I respond. They smile even more. The eyes glisten. They dance. I am fascinated. I tap myself with a fibre cluster and say my name.

I knew the name but it was not the same as hearing it spoken. It sounded like “Tootch.” I repeated it. Those gorgeous flashes of colour! I had learnt early to not complicate any speech in the beginning. I, Dreeandra Scholl-Watson, was a potential mouthful. I tapped myself and said, “Dree.”

They said their name! It was a lot shorter than expected. Perhaps for protocol? I’m flashing all over the place now. Maybe I’m not cut out for the ambassador role? I want to reach out…

They said my name! It was a little morphed with that bell-like resonance. A bit of an m on the end so it sounded more like “Dreem”. Why is there so much distance between us?

I glide forward with confidence…..I step closer towards this alien angel

I’m bursting with anticipation…..This moment is mine, it’s ours

I extend my main tendril…..I reach out my little baked bean fingers

I want to feel…..I want to give

The Human Touch