Seven and Ken are up to something today. First, I noticed them moving through every corridor and room of the ship. They were finding everything I had painted or marked up since I found that first set of markers. After it became clear that Seven didn’t have a problem with it, I started tagging large areas of the ship. Then Seven had surprised me with what I can only describe as an alien art set. There were some things I recognized in it, like markers, paints and crayons and some things I didn’t. Like some small canisters full of what seems like a damp, clumpy powder. Anyway, after he gave me that I took it as permission to go completely wild with the painting and tagging. I put up great murals taking over whole walls. I tried to think of what I missed most about Earth, but to be honest my life was pretty lack-luster. I had no close friends, no family. A few roommates and my work were all I had. I wouldn’t want to paint anything about my old, rickety car or my dingy apartment. Most of the murals wound up being full of Disney villains and princesses.
So, I spotted Seven and Ken standing in front of my door, admiring my “Under the Sea” piece. They were speaking in their weird, alien hiccup talk and both of them were turning orange and then a soft pink. It was a bit of a sparkly, ombré effect. Soooo pretty. They took no notice of me spying on them as they both leaned toward my door to get a better look. Then it opened. When they got a good look inside my room, their colors started changing to pink with purple edges. I love these color changes. I know that they correspond somehow with how these tentacle guys are feeling. but I can’t tell what feelings go with what color. I’ll assume that their color changes convey awe and admiration for my artistic talents.
In my room, I had done a big mashup of Mexican inspired stuff. I know that I have Mexican heritage, but I’ve never been. I was in foster care since babyhood and none of my many caretakers were Latino or Hispanic. There was another foster kid in one of the homes I stayed in that was Hispanic. He was Guatemalan, but very young, only spoke Spanish, and didn’t stay long. I’ve always felt this kind of hollowness about Mexico. Like, I know it’s my heritage, but I can’t claim it. I don’t speak Spanish and I wasn’t raised by Mexicans. It’s like my tether has been cut. Anyway, I guess being abducted by aliens brought a lot of those feelings to the front of my brain. Because I may never visit Mexico now. I may never get back to Earth. I always thought there was time for me to try and look up genetic relatives and track down my birth parents. All this emotional mess is what led me to paint my room in everything Mexican I could think up. A big Virgin of Guadalupe is on one wall. A Catrina lounging on a pile of sugar skulls is on another. A Frieda Kahlo portrait across from the door. Pyramids, mariachis, sombreros, and cactuses interspersed throughout. A whole bunch of stereotypical Mexican things.
Anyway, Seven and Ken seemed impressed. They gawked at my walls for a few moments, talked to each other, and then made a beeline for the storage room. Quiet as a mouse, I followed. I’m very curious about what my murals have inspired them to do. I still haven’t figured out after watching them retrieve a couple of devices. I don’t know what they are, but one looks like an oval tablet and the other seems to be a big laser pointer. They take these things all around the ship. They kept pointing the tablet at different murals they found. They seemed to be taking pictures. Ok, so perhaps they are sharing it on alien social media? After they finish with the pictures, I sneakily follow them back to the storage room. There they start taking out lots of different….things. Look, how am I supposed to know what all these alien things are or what they do? They are all smaller than a person but larger than a toaster. Most of them are gray paneled boxes of different sizes and shades. Anyway, they start setting this stuff up in the middle of the storage room, where there’s plenty of space. They set the big laser pointer up on a stand and point it at each box in turn. After a few seconds of laser pointing, a picture will start to take shape on the panels. My pictures. Ok, so they are decorating their gray metal boxes with my art. Huh. Well, I guess that means they surely like it. I’m pretty sure all the things in this storage area are for something else, and not personal use. Like, for selling or to give away or something. Whenever we have made stops, I see Seven load some stuff up and shuttle it off the ship and/or shuttle new stuff back on. I’m pretty sure they are planning to sell this stuff that they have etched my art onto.
What little reservations I had about tagging the whole ship with my Earth pop culture murals dissipates. Not only is there no problem with it, but they may want some more. I leave the hanger and make my way back to my room.
Gathering up my supplies to start a new mural, I spot another project I have been working on. It’s a wrap, like a long scarf with tapered ends that I have been attaching coins to. The coins are these flat, circular discs. They resemble quarters, but thinner and they look and feel a little oily. Whatever they are made out of, they make a pretty “clink” sound when they strike each other. And they have an octagonal hole through each, at the edge. I’ve been loosely attaching each coin to the wrap. So now when it moves, they clink together sounding like a tiny, melodious wind chime. Setting my supplies down, I pick the scarf up and tie the loose threads off then wrap it around my hips. I give a quick shimmy, recalling a belly dancing class I took once. Shoulders straight, feet shoulder-width apart, knees relaxed I quickly shimmy, moving around in a tight circle. The sound of these coins clanking together is just as loud, but more of a chime than the tinny sound of my belly dancing scarf at home. Nice! This turned out better than I hoped!
I gather my supplies back up into my arms and shake my hips from side to side as I walk. I usually put on some music to dance around to as I paint. There’s no music here though, I’ve been humming or singing to myself as I work, but now I have this musical scarf to keep a beat with.
There is a hanger where two shuttles are parked, with a hallway leading to the door. That hallway is bigger than the other corridors on this ship. It’s twice as tall, and the walkway is at least three times wide. This is an ideal place for my next mural. Remembering Seven and Ken’s colorful reaction to the “Under the Sea” door, I decide to do something ocean-y. I’ve overdone it on the Disney characters lately, so for something different, I decide on a 50’s pinup theme.
As I get into it, dancing around and painting up a storm, my mind keeps drifting back and dwelling on my current situation. I have tried quite a few different ways of establishing communication with these guys, but nothing works. I don’t know what else to do. It seems to me that when you see an alien painting portraits, landscapes, and murals and you also see them making clothes to dress, it should occur to you that they are sentient. It could be that they don’t care. It seems like I’m stuck being a pet for the foreseeable future and I don’t know what to do about it. If I was in a sci-fi movie, some alpha male action hero would be coming to save me. Or I would be a total badass like Laura Croft or Ripley and I would beat everyone up and pilot myself home. Even if I could beat everyone up, I don’t know the first thing about flying this thing. I’ve never seen any controls in any of these rooms. And then, if I could fly it, I don’t know how to get to Earth. I remember that the solar system is located out on the arm of the Milky Way which looks like a swirling disk. I don’t have a reference for where to find it. I don’t know how far away I am or in what direction. Even if I knew how to fly this ship, and how to find Earth, what would happen when I got there? I might get shot out of the sky. I could get rounded up by government Area 51 people.
Anyway, I’m not in a sci-fi movie. My best bet is to continue trying to communicate.
