In all her life, it’d never been easier to talk with someone. They walked along the beach, traveling the entire circumference of the small island, talking for hours on end about absolutely nothing at all.
When the days drew to a close and she became tired, she actually regretted having to leave him. As she lie in bed and slowly drifted to sleep, she thought of him, of his eyes, of his mouth.
She imagined what he would look like if he smiled, and on one surprising occasion, even wondered what his mouth would feel like to kiss. Would it be alien, or would it be just like the food where only her mind would know there was any difference at all?
When she woke up the next morning, he would be the first thing she would think about.
Was he already up? What was he doing at that moment?
It took no effort for her to think this way; it was naturally where mind went. As she dressed each morning, she thought about things they could talk about.
Each day, she’d think she would have to start the conversation, but every time when she entered the room, he would bombard her with questions, clearly just as excited to talk to her as she was to talk to him.
They discussed his research on humans, and now that he had a real live one beside him they were able to compare notes to how it actually felt to be human. This was a topic of conversation between them fairly often, and one day, she realized exactly what it was she needed to do.
“My people are physically driven,” he said.
“Our muscles, hormones, and mind physically drive our bodies. Our moods, as you would consider them, are directly tied to the health of our bodies.”
“I understand, but what I’ve been saying is that humans are as well, but our chemical make-up is translated in our brain differently. Our moods aren’t some mysterious cosmic force dictating our every movement. They’re chemical reactions interpreted by our brains.”
“But if this is so,” he said, looking as frustrated as she’d ever seen him, “then why is it you can act with such powerful compassion one instant and such vehement violence the next?”
“A mother will kiss her child on the head in a show of affection unheard of on our planet, and yet will turn around and do very real physical harm to any person seeking to damage that child.”
“Of course she would,” Gloria shouted.
“Who wouldn’t protect their baby?”
“But if you’re aware that danger is near, how can you stand to be compassionate in the same instance? The chemicals in your brain should demand one reaction or the other, not both.”
“They’re not mutually exclusive. It’s all a web, Rock. Don’t you see? The mother’s violent reaction to danger is directly related to her compassion for the child. You couldn’t have one without the other.”
“That makes no sense. Genetically the mother is tied to the child. She is forced to protect it.”
“Incorrect. A mother that does not care about her child is a mother that would do nothing to protect it. Compassion, love, these are our most powerful emotions because of everything that comes with them. When we feel so emotionally strong toward someone, we would be willing to do almost anything for them. Some people are actually willing to do anything at all.”
“I do not understand. You state it is not some cosmic force, and yet you behave with such complexity. I cannot follow your reasoning.”
“All right,” she said, and took a deep breath. This was something she thought a lot about lately, and now seemed as good a time as any.
“How about I put it another way?”
“Very well,” he said.
That was one thing she had come to truly appreciate about him. He could discuss. He could have a conversation.
He never needed to argue or to be right, but he loved talking things through until he accepted they would never agree, or one side was convinced of the others logic. This time, however, she knew she was going to win.
Stepping forward, she picked up his hand and placed it on her breast. The sensation sent a shock of excitement through her and she couldn’t stop herself from shivering under his touch, despite the fact she was the one that had put his hand there.
“How does this make you feel?”
“Confused,” he said slowly.
“And?”
“Excited.”
“You feel both. And if you think about it, what are these two emotions tied to?”
He opened his mouth, but then stopped. His eyes fell to her breast and he slowly began fondling her.
“My initial reaction was to say love, but I realize now it comes from hope.”
“Hope?” she asked, trying to not close her eyes and lose herself to the pleasure of his touch.
“Hope of what this means. You’re allowing me to touch you. I hope… I hope that you’ve come… that you…”
“You’re afraid to say it?”
“Yes,” he whispered.
“You’re afraid?”
He stepped closer and placed his other hand on her other breast.
“Becoming less so by the moment.”
Gloria moaned softly and placed her hands on top of his.
“And all of these emotions, they’re tied to one single one, spreading out, mmm, from it like a web.”