Space Is Just a Starry Night Read online

  The Being began to see in them now the signs that they were discovering each other as of different sexes. Like children still, they giggled together in an intimate privacy, shutting out even the feeding tube. They would soon mate.

  The need for the drug was thus urgent. If they mated now and produced offspring as hairy as themselves, he would have to start his teaching again, for the hair was a psychological deformity as much as a physical one. While they still had it, they thought of themselves as a species of lower animal, despite everything he had taught them.

  As soon as the drug was prepared, he sent the feeding tube to take them to it. He watched them shaking their heads, saying: No, no, we were told not to go near that tree — they, like the animals, believed the vat was a tree — and anyway, the deer had died, they had seen it. To touch the tree meant death. But the tube persuaded them, somehow or other, and at last they went, and he saw them drinking through it out of the vat, laughing at how false all their fears had been. However, when the hair began to fall off them in patches, then in its entirety, they wept and screamed, and ran off into the forest.

  At length the Being went after them. He called them, and his huge voice, so much larger than theirs, struck frightened birds out of the branches. When he found them they were crouched down, covering themselves with torn-off armfuls of leaves, shivering with fear. He accepted then, with a hurt in him, how afraid they really were of him, not just of his stature but of his powers, his knowledge, of everything about him.

  He tried to calm their terror, but they seemed to think that he was angry with them for eating something he had previously told them not to eat. They blamed each other for doing it, and then they blamed the feeding tube, saying it had lured them to the vat, and now they were punished with this horrible, naked hairlessness. The male seemed to feel less guilty because there was still hair on his face and chest, as well as on his head and genitals (the drug had not been completely successful, unripe as it was). The female, more naked, was the more afraid.

  The Being found that he could not evict the fear from their minds, so he left them alone, and later he took them to the ship and made them garments out of the deer’s skin, showing them how it was done. This seemed to comfort them a little, but not much. When he told them that soon they must leave the valley and go into a world where animals would not play with them, and where snakes — they had thought the feeding tube was a snake — would be their enemies, they evidently believed they were truly being punished for what they had done. Later, when he explained to them the facts of their sex, how the female would carry the child and bring it forth not without discomfort, they clung together and would not look at him. They thought it was his curse on them for disobeying.

  After that he gave them lessons on the world outside, fitted them for it, tried to console them. And he saw that his plan had been wrong, and that they were physically and mentally too young to understand what had happened to them.

  When at last they climbed the path up out of the valley, he hung in his ship, watching them, resolving that next time he would be gentler, more subtle.

  At the top of the path, the world stretched before them, unwelcoming and strange, the male and female halted. They heard the song of the ship’s engines, and turning, saw between them and the valley, the long golden flame of the boost jet, lifting the ship like a silver halo, out into space. And because they were still bewildered and ashamed and afraid, they thought that the fire had been put there to stop them ever going back into the beautiful valley again.

  They ran away before the flame vanished, and it stayed always in their minds, and in the minds of the tribe, and of the race, and of the people they founded. The fire that kept them out of the Garden, the fire which later, when they had learned how to make them, they would call a sword.

  Black Fire

  Witness A (One)

  I first see it as I’m driving back that night up the road — you can bet I pulled over. I thought it was a fucking plane coming down. Like a plunge of flames right through the sky, as if the sky were tearing open from the top to the bottom. The car slams to a halt and I jump out — and I’m below the top of the hill, so I run the rest of the way and just as I get there, this — thing, whatever it was — it lands in the woods. Well, our house is around there, me and hers. Only a mouse-house — what she said — mid-terrace in the last street winds out the village.

  I stand on the hill sort of frozen, sort of turned to stone, and I hold my breath, the way like you do, not knowing you’re not breathing.

  So while I watch, all this fire-thing just storms into and through the trees and down, and it hits the ground, and I think something’s crazy then, because there should be a god-awful great bang, yeah? And great columns of fire and crap. But there ain’t a sound. Not a bloody whisper.

  And then I remember, and I take that missing breath. But it’s so quiet. I think that’s what struck me anyhow, even while I run up the hill. There’s always some kind of noise out here, I mean we’re not that far from town. And there’s animals too, foxes and things snuffling and screeching. And cars. Only there isn’t a single sound now.

  I don’t never drink when I drive. Not no more. I got pulled over a couple years ago, random check, and I was just over the limit — half a glass — well, a pint — of beer. But I won’t take any chance now. So nobody can say I imagined what I seen. Go on, you can test me, if you like. No. I seen it. And I seen what come after too.

  Witness E (One)

  He was late. He’s always late.

  That’s what they says about dead people, don’t they? Well then, he must be dead.

  Oh he’s got some bint where he works. Says he hasn’t.

  He’s got some —

  Anyhow. I was washing my hair, and this blinding-like light sort of — I thought it was coming straight in the bleeding window —

  I thought it was a bomb. You know. A dirty bomb like they always go on about. Terrorists. Why does everyone hate everyone?

  So I runs out in the garden, and I look and this big light — it’s like the sky’s falling, and it’s all on fire — only the fire is — it isn’t red or nothing. It’s — can’t describe it really.

  Right in the wood.

  I started to cry. I was really scared. And he weren’t there, the bugger.

  But there’s no crash. Nothing. Just — silence.

  You know that thing someone said — hear a pin drop. Like that.

  And my hair’s so wet — but I shakes it back, and I thought, I can go next door — but the other three houses there, as we come like out of the village, no one lives in them now.

  And then I sees him. This guy. He’s walking out between the trees, i’nt he. Just walking.

  Witness A (One)

  Fucking car wouldn’t start, would it, when I goes back to it. So I beats it up the fucking hill again and belts down the other side toward the house. I mean, I’m thinking of her, aren’t I? Yeah?

  I mean you do, don’t you.

  Witness E (One)

  It wasn’t just he was well fit. I mean he was fit. I can see that like. And like he’s really — he’s beautiful. And I’m standing there in my old jeans and an old bra and no slap on and my hair full of shampoo — But he’s got a sort of like, he’s sort of shining.

  It’s like — what’s that stuff? Phosbros — is it?

  He — gleams.

  Only he’s dark too. I don’t mean he’s a black guy. His skin is just kind of like summer tan, sort of like he’s caught the sun but over here. Not a real tan. And his hair is black, but it’s so long, all down his back, it’s like silk.

  And he has this face.

  I don’t think much of them movie celebs, do you? But this guy, he’s like in films my mum used to watch before she went mad and ended up in Loonyville — I can’t think who.

  But he comes out the wood and up to the garden, where the dustbin is, and the broken gate, and he looks at me.

  I say, “D’you see that flaming thing come dow
n?”

  And he smiles at me.

  Witness A (Two)

  Coming home on that train, it’s always late and no trolley service. I dread the damn thing. But when I finally got to the station, what do you think? The shit Volvo won’t start, will it.

  So I walked.

  Perfect ending to a perfect day, etc.

  That’s when I saw those fireworks all showering down on everything.

  I admit I stopped and stared. I mean, I was recollecting that factory — God, where was it? — that place where all the fireworks blew up — the only difference was, and I eventually figured it out, these fireworks were all in a mass, just dropping in one area. They merely fell out of the sky. Glittering. The rather peculiar thing was, there were no colors. It was quite a naturally well-lit night — aside from the inevitable street lamp light-pollution — a half moon, and stars. And this fountain of fireworks looked somehow much darker. They were — the nearest I can get is something like black sequins, those kind of gowns sexy women wore in the forties of the last century.

  Anyway, I started to walk again because even when the fountain hit the bloody houses on my street, which I could see from up there on the far side of the park, there wasn’t any thudding noise, no detonations.

  You get so anxious now. It’s how they want to make you, isn’t it. All these warnings. I’d been thinking, ever since the trouble years ago, I ought to relocate, just work from home.

  But it’s difficult. My partner. She likes the high life frankly, and her own job (she’s a sort of PA) simply doesn’t cover the rent.

  It took me an hour to get back on foot. I steeled myself and didn’t stop off at the King’s Arms. I thought she might be worried. Sometimes I can be such a bloody fool.

  By the time I reached the house the pyrotechnics were long gone. It was just this incredibly silent night. I noted that, you see. It struck me — how dead quiet it was.

  When I unlocked the door, there seemed to be no one about. That was unusual. She’s usually around. Even if she’s asleep in front of the TV with an empty vodka bottle. I called out, I remember… I called her name — Honey I’m home sort of rubbish.

  But no answer.

  I felt fed up. I was tired and hungry. I admit, I felt unloved. Childish, stupid, but I’m trying to tell you the truth.

  Then I thought I heard a noise upstairs. Had she gone up to bed early? (No care for me, get my own fucking meal even though she’d been home all day.) Or was she ill? She gets migraines sometimes — or she says she — she said she did.

  I went upstairs.

  This I can’t really explain. I walked quietly. Maybe only because it really was so quiet. Not a sound. (Even when I’d passed the pub, now I come to think of it. Quiet as – well, is even a grave so quiet?)

  Upstairs the dimmer was on, all the lights half doused.

  Then I did hear something. Then I heard it again, through the bedroom door. Our bedroom. This cry.

  You can’t mistake a cry like that.

  Unless, of course, you never ever heard it before.

  Witness A (One)

  I runs the last bit. I’m getting really scared, even though there’d been no bang nor nothing. I mean, the house lights were all out.

  When I gets there I nearly has a heart attack because the front door is standing wide open.

  No light — no, one on in the lounge — I say lounge, size of a kitchen table — nowhere else though.

  Upstairs, in the tiny little mouse room we called our bedroom, I hear a long wild wailing noise.

  And I fucking know that noise.

  It’s her, fetching off, like they say. It’s sex.

  I thought, hang on, maybe she’s just fixed herself, me not being there.

  Then I know.

  Then I run upstairs fast as I could. Sounded like an elephant to myself, in all the quiet.

  When I pushed the door open, there they are. Her and him. There they are.

  Witness E (Two)

  He rang the doorbell. I think that was it… He must have done.

  So I opened the door. It wasn’t that late. Anyway, I was bored.

  The utter rubbish on TV. I’d been going to check the washing-machine because suddenly it seemed so silent that presumably it’d packed up, with all my gear in it, oh and his favorite three shirts — unforgiveable!

  I thought I’d seen a kind of flash in the sky earlier. But I’m always seeing things in the sky. Altogether, in the past two years, I’ve seen six unidentified flying objects. Everyone laughs at me. But I did.

  Anyway, standing outside the door is this entirely gorgeous man. There is no other way to describe him. He looks like — oh, God knows. Too good to be true. No, I don’t remember what he was wearing.

  Yes, I’d been drinking. I always mean to cut down, never do it when I’m at work. But sometimes, well. But not that much. I mean, I could see.

  He was so beautiful.

  And he said, “Here you are,” and he smiled this wonderful smile. No, not charismatic, nothing so clichéd. You looked at him and —

  I fell in love with him. On sight. I fell in love with him.

  Can I stop now.

  I need some water, please.

  Witness E (Three)

  We’d been going to go up to the ridge. There was supposed to be a meteor shower. He said so. We’re both very interested in that sort of thing, space, you know. He has a wonderful collection of meteor bits — dark fusion crust — really special.

  We’d only been together a year. It was awful when he lost his job, but luckily I still have mine. Very luckily, as it turns out. I mean it’s just boring office work, but I’ll still need a job, won’t I. Or not for a bit, perhaps.

  Anyway, we set off quite early, around sunset. It was lovely, the light sinking over the fields and the birds singing. I know the songs are only territorial, their way of saying Keep Out! to other birds. I never knew that till he explained it to me. I just thought they sang because they could do it so well.

  The ridge is the highest open place for miles.

  We sat down and looked at the dark coming, and then all the lights coming on all round, the two towns, and the city to the north, and the little villages. You can never go far here without seeing people, or signs of them.

  It got dark then. The moon was already quite far over to the west, though still high enough to make the upper sky that deep night blue. Lots of stars.

  We didn’t see anything for a long time. Then this thing just erupted out of the zenith.

  He jumped up. We both did.

  “It’s a fireball —” he shouted. “My God — it’s colossal —”

  It seemed to be falling straight on us, but somehow neither of us could move.

  Then I remember being aware of turning, as if I were being turned, not doing it myself — and our shadows peeling out jet black behind us and then realizing the meteor was rushing down to the south, in front of us, not directly on to our heads.

  He started to run. He was running after it. He didn’t wait for me, or even call to me. I suppose he just thought I’d do exactly what he did, I’d be so desperate to see. But I was scared. You know. I mean, it was so big and blazing bright — and yet so dark. I didn’t know you could have fire like that, black fire — it must be a phenomenon associated with certain types of extraterrestrial objects.

  So he’d sprinted off, and the fireball went down on the land. And then — no shock wave, no sound — it just went out. Like a blown candle. Like that.

  My legs had gone to jelly. I had to sit down. I thought he’d be all right, after all nothing had exploded or was burning. What a coward I was, and he was so brave. He’d really tell me off. Perhaps I could get up and follow him in a minute, pretend I’d fallen over something as I ran —

  Then I noticed how completely quiet everything was. Nothing is ever that quiet. I’ve been out with him enough nights to know. Animals move about, there is the distant hum of traffic from the motorway, or a plane. Trees sort of settle
. And even the quietest flick of breeze moves the leaves. And I could see the leaves on trees moving a little. So the silence was just for me, somehow I’d been closed in some sort of bubble of soundlessness —

  Then I stood up.

  And then he spoke to me. I mean him, the man. The — I mean him.

  He said, “Are you here?”

  I said, “Who are you? Where did you come from?”

  And he smiled.

  He was so wonderful to look at…long black hair. He wore — I can’t remember. Just ordinary clothes, I expect. Because in fact he couldn’t have been at all what he seemed. It was a sort of illusion he could create, just the way they do it in sf movies, CGI — in Dr Who for instance. Because he must be an alien, a species from beyond this world.

  I was terrified. But then he touched me.

  No, I’m all right. This isn’t my blood.

  Witness A (Four)

  I slung the door open and I ran straight at them. They were by the wall. No need to guess what he’d been doing with her —

  She just looked sad. That was all. She didn’t even protest.

  And he — well, must have slipped out the side door while I was seeing to her, mustn’t he. Bastard. He never even tried to stop me.