The Constructs
By Vic James
vicjames2@hotmail.com
Copyright 2014 by Vic James
http://www.vicjames.com
If you enjoy this story or the other stories at Nifty, please make a donation at: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
This story is fiction. None of the characters are based on real people. You can see a list of my stories at http://www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#vicjames
Note: there is no sex in chapter one.
One
I was sitting on the porch of my uncle's cabin next to Lost Hills Lake. I got the final confirmation the afternoon before that I had pancreatic cancer---advanced pancreatic cancer. My stomach hurt and had been hurting. I thought I had an ulcer. I put off going to the doctor and treated it with over the counter medications. No such luck. I had cancer and from what little I knew about it, I didn't have long to live. Hope seemed pointless. If Steve Jobs couldn't beat it, I sure couldn't. I hadn't told anyone. I was at the cabin because I couldn't face anyone and actually tell them without falling apart completely. Staying drunk for the rest of my life was starting to seem like my best course of action. I would have to tell everyone, of course. But I would be drunk. That would make it easier. I closed my eyes and heard a rushing sound. It was inside my head. I took another big slug of whiskey. The only big decision left for me to make was which hospice facility I would die in. I was never going to have a lover. I'd had boyfriends, but we'd never gotten to the stage of living together. I wondered what it would have been like, having a lover. I drank more whiskey.
I looked out at the lake. I saw two ducks swimming. Mr. Duck and Mrs. Duck. They managed it---finding a mate before they died. But I hadn't been able to manage it, and now I never would. I couldn't imagine trying to find one with only weeks left to live. For one thing, it would be cruel to the other person if I did.
I volunteered for eight hours a week at the AIDS Assistance Center. I'd met people who were doing very poorly, health-wise. They seem so detached. Would I feel that way after a while? Or would I be a wreck for the rest of my life? I drank more whiskey and closed my eyes.
"Will?" I heard.
I opened my eyes.
It was Mike Collins, an older man who also had a cabin at the lake. He knew my father. They had worked together for a while. He had flirted enough with me that I was sure he was gay and he seemed to assume I was. Mike seemed nice enough and he was attractive, but he was too old. I was twenty-five and thought people over thirty were close to retirement. Mike was wearing shorts and a tank top, though and he looked good. I'd never noticed how hairy he was. I liked that. But that didn't matter anymore. Even if he wanted to have sex, I was in too much pain to consider it. I sure hoped he wasn't going to stop. Any questions would lead to tears. I really didn't want to cry in front of a near-stranger. What I wanted was to be detached---indifferent.
"Hi, Mike," I said.
"You look like shit."
I laughed.
"Thank you. That is exactly the look I was aiming for," I said. My words were a little slurred, but what did it matter? I took another swig of whiskey.
"Should you be drinking that much?"
A question. I sighed. I could lie and say everything was fine. I wanted to be alone. I looked at Mike's concerned face.
"Yes," I told him.
He walked up on the porch and sat next to me.
"Bad day?" he asked.
Another question. As I feared, I burst into tears.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"I broke up with my boyfriend," I said, deliberately lying.
"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."
The way he said it made me laugh. He didn't sound all that sorry about my non-existent boyfriend. Maybe he was glad. That cheered me up a little. You are such a fool, I told myself. Here is a hot man who might have been interested in you. Would it have killed you to give him a chance, I asked myself. Was the reason I never found a lover because I rejected men like Mike automatically?
I actually felt better with him there. I felt less insignificant. I realized I didn't want to die alone. I didn't mean I wanted to take people with me when I died, but I didn't want to be all alone in a hospice room when the end came. I don't know how other people take the news that they are dying, but I was acutely aware of the fact that practically no one would notice when I was gone. And that depressed me. Who wants to be insignificant? Dying alone would prove I was insignificant. Of course, if I managed to become detached, a little thing like that wouldn't bother me.
"Tell me about yourself," I said.
He told me about his two former lovers and his job. He had left the company where Dad worked for a big promotion. I wasn't sure what a COO actually did, but it sounded important, and it probably paid well, too.
"Your father asked me to check on you," he said.
My mouth dropped open. I thought he was interested in me. It turned out he was talking to me because my father asked him to. I really was insignificant, except to my parents. To my mother. Oh, god! How would I tell her?
"Are you all right?" he asked.
I shook my head.
"No. I'm not."
"Do you feel like talking about it?"
"Look, Mike. It was nice of you to do this for my father, I guess, but you really don't care. Why don't you leave?"
He didn't say anything for a bit.
"Why do you think I don't care?" he asked.
"You've never talked to me before."
He chuckled.
"That is only because you run away when I try. I like you very much, Will. Your father knows that."
I sighed. Mike seemed like a nice guy and I was starting to really regret ignoring him. But what was the point in establishing any kind of relationship? I sat there for a moment. I did need to talk to someone about it and Mike seemed to volunteer to do it. But I didn't want to be a burden for him. It wasn't fair to him, considering how I ignored him in the past. I wasn't sure it would even help. I knew how I felt when someone I barely knew told me they were dying. It happened twice at the AIDS center. What do you say after you tell them you are so sorry? 'I'll go to your funeral'? I looked at him. He seemed concerned. I sighed.
"I lied when I said I broke up with my boyfriend. I found out this morning that I have pancreatic cancer. I'm dying and I don't have a lot of time left. My doctor thoughtfully recommended a hospice facility he thinks is particularly nice."
"Oh, God! Oh, God!" Mike said.
"I decided to spend my remaining time drunk."
I looked at him and watched his eyes tear up. I closed mine.
"Maybe they can---" he started to say.
I shook my head.
"It's too late," I said. "He said chemotherapy would only make my last days more uncomfortable."
He pulled me against him and I broke down completely. He held me and it helped.
I don't know how long we sat there like that. He shook a little and I assumed he was crying. I felt a little guilty about making a stranger cry. But I didn't know what else to do. I couldn't face my mother. I knew that. She would be hysterical and I didn't feel strong enough to deal with that. I could barely handle my own feelings, much less hers. But eventually, I ran out of tears. I sat up. I looked at Mike. He looked bereft and tears were dripping down his cheeks.
"For what it's worth, I'm sorry I ran when you tried to talk to me. I wish now I'd given you a chance." I sighed. "I guess it's too late to learn from my mistakes."
"Oh, Will."
He started sobbing. I didn't know what to say. I wanted to comfort him, but how? Where was there any comfort to be found?
He wiped his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Mike. You shouldn't have to deal with this."
"Don't be sorry. Have you told your parents?" he asked me. "They know something is wrong."
"No. Besides my doctors, you are the only person who knows."
I groaned as a particularly intense pain hit me. I bent over and threw up. It wasn't pretty. Mike rubbed my back and it was comforting. Then another spasm hit me and I had a dry heave. While I was looking at what had been in my stomach (whiskey and something yellow), I heard a loud humming sound. I assumed it was some watercraft or a weedeater, or something. But the noise grew louder. So much louder that I covered my ears. A spasm hit me and I knew I was going to throw up, again---
The next thing I knew, I woke up in the dark. The ground was hard underneath me. I sat up. As I did, my hands felt the ground under me. It was definitely artificial. It felt rubbery. We weren't in the cabin. I realized my stomach didn't hurt. Not at all. I put my hand on it and pressed lightly. No pain! I pressed harder and there was still no pain! I wasn't wearing a shirt though. I wondered why. I put my arms out and felt around me. I touched skin.
"Mike?" I whispered. "Is that you?"
There was no response. For lack of anything else to do, I felt the other person's body. I found the shoulders and then the chest. It was a man and he was hairy and naked. My hand slid down his belly to his pubic hair. I stopped there. I touched my crotch and found I was naked, too. Whoever was there in the dark beside me, I hoped it was Mike and not a stranger. I felt for his face and he had a moustache. I felt his stubbled cheek. It had to be Mike. I shook him.
"Mike? Is that you?"
I put my hand on his chest and felt it move. He was breathing.
I pressed my hand against the ground. It seemed like rubber. There was a little give. That was weird. Who had a rubber floor?
I heard a grunt.
"Are you awake?" I whispered.
"Uh. Yeah. Is that you, Will?"
"Yeah."
"What the fuck happened?"
"I don't know," I said. "I heard a noise and then woke up here in the dark."
I realized then that I felt fine. I wasn't drunk and I had no pain. I had no desire to throw up. That was weird. Of course, the whole thing was weird. I pressed my abdomen. There was no pain at all.
"Are we dead?" I wondered.
"What? Why do you say that?"
"I feel normal. Not drunk and not sick. Actually, I feel great."
And I did. Not only was there no pain, but I felt buoyant. Maybe I was dead, though. But why would Mike be with me if I was dead?
"Well, that's good, of course. But why? And where are we?" Mike said.
"Yeah. Good question. Or questions."
I felt him moving. I stood up and moved away a couple of steps. I held my hands out, trying to see if I could feel anything else. In the darkness, I was reluctant to go far from Mike. I didn't feel anything, though. I moved back next to him. He put his arm around my waist and I smiled.
"Are we in Ed's cabin?"
Ed was my uncle.
"No. I don't think so. After the humming sound, I woke up here in the dark. Feel the ground. There definitely aren't rubber floors in the cabin."
He took his arm from around me. After a moment, Mike said, "What the fuck?"
I heard him pound on it.
I sat on the ground next to him. I knew I should be as worried as he was about where we were, but I felt good. That meant it was an improvement. I wished there was light, though. I reached out and felt Mike.
"That's my crotch," he said.
I laughed.
"Oops."
"It's all right," he said.
I felt his hand on my back.
"What is this?" he said.
"What is what?"
"There's a ridge on your back."
I reached behind me and felt it.
"That's weird," I said.
"I have one, too," Mike said.
"Do you mind if I feel it?" I asked him.
"No."
I reached out and felt him. I moved my hand to where his back should be. Sure enough, there was a ridge along his spine. It had the texture of skin, but wasn't completely smooth. I moved my hand up. It went all the way to the top of his head. I felt the back of my head. I had the same ridge and there was no hair on the ridge on my head. I followed his down until I had my hand on his butt. I moved my hand to the back of his leg. There was no ridge on it. I tried the other leg. No ridge.
I found Mike's hand and held it. His hand closed around mine.
"What could do that?" I asked him.
"Nothing I ever heard of," Mike said.
"I'm scared," I said.
Mike took me in his arms and held me. It felt nice.
"Are you OK?" he asked me.
"Actually, yeah. I'm better. I'm not in pain anymore."
"Oh, God! You were in pain?"
"Yeah. The pain was bad, but I don't feel it anymore. I'm not nauseous, either."
"Well, I guess we should be grateful for that. But what does it mean? Does the pain come and go?"
"It came but it never went, before," I said.
"Oh, Will," he said.
I rested my head on him and it felt good.
Suddenly, the room was brightly lit. We both looked around. There was nothing to see. The room was circular and seemed about thirty feet in diameter. Everything was white---the floor, the walls, and the ceiling. All the surfaces seemed to glow, including the floor. The material looked like plastic. I walked over to a wall. It felt just like the floor---rubbery. With the weird lighting, the round room, and the strange material on the floor and walls, the place seemed alien. I didn't say that aloud, though. There was nothing else in the room. No furniture of any kind and nothing that looked like a door or window. The entire room, including the floor and ceiling seemed to be one solid piece of plastic. There was no seam where the walls met the floor and we couldn't see one where the walls met the ceiling.
I kept glancing at Mike. He looked good without clothes. He was uncircumcised. I walked behind him and looked at the ridge on his back. It looked like skin, but was rough, like maybe scar tissue. Had we been operated on? It was a scary thought, but I felt good. Maybe even better than before I got cancer. Had they cured me? How could I complain about that? But what else had been done to us? I had no idea, but I felt completely normal, including a little hungry. He looked at the ridge on my back.
"It has to be scar tissue. What else can it be?"
"That's the only thing I can think of," I said. "How do you feel? Does it feel like they did anything to you?"
"I feel fine," Mike said.
Mike jumped in the air. "I feel lighter."
I nodded.
"I thought I did, but then I thought it was just the fact that I feel better."
"I think it's more than that," Mike said. "Does this room remind you of anything?"
"No. How about you?"
He shook his head. "It's like nothing I've ever seen. Not on Earth, anyway."
So he was thinking alien, too. It was a very scary thought, but if they cured me, I ought to be grateful. I was grateful.
Mike put his arm around my waist. I smiled at him. I watched him grow erect and the sight got me hard.
"If you keep looking at it, it's never going to go soft," he said.
"So don't ever look at it, right?" I asked.
Mike laughed.
"Did I say that? Bad Mike! Bad!"
We both chuckled.
After a few minutes, we sat back down on the floor. I leaned against him.
"When we get out of here, I want to take you to dinner," Mike said.
I smiled. Then I had a strange feeling. I felt like that would never happen.
A few minutes later, he asked, "Has the pain come back?"
"I feel good. I really do," I said. "There is no pain at all. What could do that? Does it have anything to do with the scars on our backs? And why is the back of our heads scarred? Did we have brain surgery? If so, why don't we feel different? Maybe we're dead."
"We aren't dead. Why would we have new scars?"
I shrugged. I didn't know. It was all a mystery. But if we were dead, why was the floor lit? It was just as bright as the ceiling and the walls. Because of that, we had no shadows. It was just plain weird. And yet, I felt good. I couldn't really complain.
The room began growing colder. I snuggled up closer to Mike. Just as I began to see my breath leave my mouth as puffs of white, an opening appeared in the wall. I screamed as something like an enormous, gray cockroach flew through the new door and into the room. I held my arms over my head. I peed on myself, although I didn't realize it immediately. I hated bugs. The thought of a giant one was too much for me to bear.
I felt Mike pulling me up. He stood between me and the bug. I held onto him, shivering, and not just from the cold. The thing looked at us for a moment and then flew out of the room. Mike turned around and held me. The room grew warmer, again. When I calmed down a little, I looked at him.
"That wasn't from Earth," I said.
"No. I'm sure of that. I don't think we are either. I think that's why I feel lighter on my feet."
"So they---or it---kidnapped us?" I wondered.
"Well, I've heard of alien abductions. Maybe they really happen," Mike said.
I thought about that, and then nodded.
"How do you feel?" Is the pain back?"
"No. I'm scared, but I think I'm OK. I really do. Whatever they did to us, I guess it was surgery, they did apparently cure me." I sighed. "Despite how horrible it looked, if it was the thing that cured me, I feel I should thank it. I just won't look at it."
Mike chuckled.
He looked into my eyes. "God, you're cute," he said.
I smiled.
Something else entered the room. This was definitely a robot, and it walked in, not flew. It was metallic and had the vague shape of a cockroach, without so many legs, or twitching mouth parts. While the alien was a flat gray color, the robot was a silver metallic color. I felt relieved, actually. Not only was it not a real roach, but the room was still warm. It stood in front of a wall. It tapped the wall several times and a viewscreen appeared. It displayed a picture of Earth from space. It pointed at us with a foreleg. Pictures of Mars, Jupiter, Saturn appeared briefly. Then a display of space with no planets visible. A white line appeared, connecting one star to another. A circle appeared around each star. The robot pointed at the star on the left and then at us again. It pointed at the other star and pointed at itself.
"Well, that's pretty clear," Mike said to me. "We are heading to its home on a space ship. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"
"Yeah."
Part of the line bulged. It was fairly near the star on the left---Earth's sun. I pointed at the bulge and then at the ceiling. I laughed when I realized I was expecting it to tell me whether that bulge was the ship. But it did make a sound. Two clicks. Maybe that meant yes. Or maybe no. I sighed. The bad news was we weren't going home. It didn't much matter how quickly we would get there. I imagined a planet full of giant, flying cockroaches and shivered. It was my personal idea of hell.
The robot began making noises. I supposed it was speaking its language.
"I think it is trying to say 'human'," Mike said.
The robot repeated the word, clearly. It pointed at Mike. We waited a moment.
"Humans," Mike said, pointing at both of us.
The robot moved closer to Mike and pointed at him, again.
"Mike," he said. He pointed at me. "Will."
The robot repeated the words, pointing at each of us.
"Yes," Mike said.
"Yes," the robot repeated.
"Well, it is trying to cooperate," Mike said. "Maybe we can tell it we need water."
I nodded.
Mike was silent for a while. Then he moved his fingers and made it look like it was falling through the air. Then he pointed at his mouth.
"Water," he said. The robot repeated it.
Mike wiggled his fingers again, simulating rain. Then he pretended to catch it in his cupped hands and brought them to his mouth. I watched dumbfounded. Mike was really good at explaining non-verbally. I would never have thought of that. The alien seemed to understand. A table extruded out of a wall with bowls that seemed to be full of water. We each took a bowl. I sipped it. It was water. I drank the whole bowl. It was maybe sixteen ounces. I felt better, then. I sat down. If the robot was explaining things, we had some sort of future in store, but what?
I pointed at the ridge on Mike's back. The robot turned to the wall. A picture of Mike (without clothes) appeared below the image of the two stars connected by the line. A second Mike appeared next to the first one. A blinking line connected the two Mikes on the display. The robot pointed at the blinking line and then moved over to Mike. It made a circular motion and Mike turned around. The robot pointed at the ridge on Mike's back. It moved back to the display and pointed at the blinking line again. Next, the robot pointed at one of the two Mikes on the display and then at Earth. Then it pointed at the other Mike and then at the real Mike. It then pointed at the ship.
"Does that mean it copied us?" I asked Mike.
"That's the way it looks to me."
It wasn't really necessary, but the robot repeated the same thing with me, with two of me connected with a blinking line.
"If they copied me, why do I feel fine?" I asked Mike.
"I don't know how to ask that by pointing."
I nodded.
The robot then displayed food items on the wall. They were actual product pictures with brand names and everything. There were cans of soup and chili. I wondered if they would open them for us. There were pictures of raw chicken and beef. I wondered if there was a way to tell them we needed them cooked. Mike pointed to a picture of sliced salami and then at a picture of a loaf of bread, when it appeared. I pointed at a picture of cheese. Then there were beverages.
"Whoo! Who!" Mike said, as cans of various kinds of beer appeared on the wall. I laughed. Mike pointed at one. I pointed at the same one. The robot left. I guessed it realized we understood. We sat on the floor.
"I guess the real me is going to die," I said to Mike.
He looked surprised, but after a moment, he nodded.
A minute later, a small opening appeared in the wall. The food items were there. I gulped when I saw each item had a seam-- -a ridge, like we had on our backs. On some items, the seam was on the container. On others, seams were on the food itself.
"So does that mean the food is copied the way we are?" I asked Mike.
"It could. I don't know."
The cheese had a ridge on it. Mike pulled a piece off the seam and tasted it.
"It's just cheese," he said.
I sighed. We were having more questions by the hour, but no answers. Then I realized that was wrong. We knew a lot more than we did before the robot entered our room. We were in space, apparently headed toward another planet. And we were copies of people. We didn't know anything about our fate, but I couldn't help thinking the real me, the one on Earth, would trade places with me, with no questions asked. Anything was better than dying. At least I hoped it was.
We ate and felt better. The food tasted normal. The robot had left the display on. When we finished our beers, Mike ordered us more.
"How do you feel, Will? Still no pain?"
"I feel great. How about you?"
"Me, too.
I looked at Mike with his black hair, black moustache, and black body hair.
"You sure don't look Irish. But the name is," I said.
"I'm black Irish," he said.
"What does that mean?"
"Just Irish with a dark complexion and hair. There were probably Spaniards in my ancestry."
"Oh.
"How do you feel about all this, Mike? I feel like I escaped death, but you---"
Mike sighed.
"I guess it will depend on where we end up. I was complaining to someone the other day that my life was boring." I grinned at him. "I escaped the boredom, anyway," he said.
I looked at his cock. It was soft and the foreskin completely covered the head and closed at the end. I smiled as I watched it grow erect.
"Now look what you've done!" Mike said.
"What do you mean? I am looking!"
He chuckled.
I'd always wanted to play with an uncut cock. None of my boyfriends were uncut and neither was I.
"So we are headed to another planet where there probably won't be any other humans," I said. "I think we should date."
Mike burst out laughing.
"I don't know. Maybe. You sure are in a good mood, considering where we are."
"I am healthy again, I think. Plus I'm with a hot man."
Mike grinned. "I'm glad you think so. But why were you uninterested, before?"
"I thought you were too old. You were my father's friend. A different generation."
"I'm only thirty-nine," he said.
That made him eight years younger than Dad.
"I don't think you are too old anymore."
Mike nodded.
He sat on the ground and patted the floor next to him. I sat and he wrapped his arm around me. I smiled at him.
"What is it that you like, sexually, I mean?" he asked.
"I am going to need a couple more beers before I can talk about sex."
Mike got up and walked over to the wall with the display. He tapped several times on the picture of the beer can.
"Hey!" he said. "I think I figured out how to order furniture."
"That's great!"
I walked over to him. Unlike the food, it didn't seem to be Earth furniture. But there were things that would do for chairs, a bed, and a table. They seemed to be made of the same material as the floor and walls of our room. Mike ordered them. Instantly, they rose out of the floor. I felt the bed. It looked like white plastic, but it was definitely softer than the floor.
The door where the food appeared opened. Mike pulled out four cans of beer. He put the uneaten food and empty beer cans in the same compartment where the food appeared. The door to the compartment closed.
"I'm going to order some bottled water. Do you want more than one?" Mike asked.
"Where do we pee?"
"Oh, yeah. I didn't think about that."
Mike stood at the display---thinking, I supposed.
"Maybe this orders the robot," he said, pointing at a small image of the robot on the display. Mike pressed it. Immediately, the robot entered the room. Mike pointed at his mouth. Then he moved his finger down his chest, stomach, and finally around to his butt. I smiled. Mike was good at communicating non-verbally. I would never have thought of that. The robot was motionless for a moment. Then it moved to the opposite side of the room and pointed at the floor. It seemed we didn't have a bathroom. We were supposed to relieve ourselves on the floor. That was definitely not ideal.
I sat on the bed. When no more questions were posed to the robot, it left the room. More beer had arrived. Mike handed me one. Then he sat next to me on the bed.
"Do you want two beds?" he asked me.
I laughed.
"That never even occurred to me. If you want two, it's fine."
"I don't. But I don't know what you want."
"Before we got---copied, there were two things I wanted. To be cured and to have a lover."
Mike smiled at me.
"I volunteer," he said.
I laughed.
"I did have you in mind!" I said.
Then I wondered what waited for us on the aliens' planet. I shivered at the thought of millions of giant, gray cockroaches.
"Are you cold?" Mike asked.
"Where are we going, Mike? What will our future be like?"
"I don't know. But they cured you. Maybe once we get to know them, it won't be so bad."
I had trouble believing that, but I knew people could beat phobias. Maybe I would adjust.
"Do you wish we were going back to Earth?" I asked him. "I'm gaining something from all this---a life. But you aren't."
Mike sighed.
"Part of me does. But I am also excited about this adventure. I was considering climbing Mount Everest. This is a hell of a lot more exciting. And I have a cute companion."
I smiled at him.
Mike got up and walked over to where the robot pointed. He began pissing. I didn't see a puddle in front of him. I went over to investigate. The piss seemed to be absorbed by the floor as soon as it hit the surface.
Mike finished. He walked over and picked up a bottle of water.
"Your leg smells like urine," he said.
That was when I realized I must have pissed on myself. I was mortified as he poured water over my legs. I supposed we were being monitored, because water began dripping from the ceiling over us. It wasn't warm water, it was room temperature. But it certainly made rinsing off easier. It disappeared into the floor as soon as it touched it. There were no puddles.
Mike washed me and both of us got erections.
I got out from under the water and wished for a towel. I tried wiping the water off my skin. I got most of it off.
"Oops," I said.
"What?"
"You told me not to look at your dick. Sorry."
Mike laughed.
"That was Bad Mike who said that. Ignore him." He wrapped his arms around me. "You said you wanted a lover. Will I do?"
"You'll do great," I told him. "If I had somehow been cured on Earth, I would have asked you out. It was one of the regrets I had earlier---not giving you a chance."
"Would you?"
"Yes. You should have figured out a way for me to see you naked. Once I saw your dick, I would have wanted it. And naked, you look nothing like an old man."
Mike grinned.
I rested my head against him and he kissed it.
"I think I'm falling in love with you. It's a good thing we're lovers!" I said.
Mike laughed.
"It is! That can be awkward, otherwise."
"I feel sorry for the other---ones. Our counterparts, I mean," Mike said. "Your other will probably die and my other will have to watch, or at least know about it."
"But you are losing everything else," I said. "Your job, your home, your friends."
"I was getting restless. I needed a change. That's why I was thinking of climbing Mount Everest. I am pretty sure I am a lot more optimistic about the future than the copy of me on Earth."
"If you had a choice, would you have chosen to be---the one who left?" I asked.
"Hmm."
I could tell he was thinking about it. He shook his head, finally.
"I don't know for sure. If someone asked me on the porch of your cabin if I wanted to be abducted by aliens, I probably would automatically say no. But I'm not miserable about my fate, I'm excited. It may be wonderful."
I nodded.
"I'm so glad I seem to be escaping my fate that I'm glad they took me. Even if something horrible awaits us, I was in a lot of pain before and my fate was no better. But it seems unfair to you."
He shrugged.
"I get to see another planet and may eventually have sex."
I laughed.
"You're talking about with me, right?"
He laughed.
"Yes."
I looked into his smiling face.
"I still don't understand why you liked me. I wasn't very nice to you," I said.
"You were very polite. You just didn't seem interested. But you happen to be just my type." Mike grinned. "And running just made me want to chase you."
I chuckled.
Mike took my hand and we walked to the bed. He lay down on his side and I lay down, facing him. While he toyed with one of my nipples, he asked, "What do you like, sexually?"
"I need more beer," I said.
He laughed.
"That sounds like a good idea."
He got up and ordered beer. He looked at the floor where we had bathed. He took and empty beer can and placed it on the floor. We watched it sink down into the floor and disappear.
"Well, that was cool!" I said.
"I was wondering what would happen when we took a dump. Would it just sit there, smelling up the room?" Mike wondered. "Now we know."
He opened one of the new beers and handed it to me. I felt the seam on the can. I had a seam, too on my back. What was it? And why was it there?
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