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Field Trip by Poetigress

Field Trip

Field Trip

by Renee Carter Hall

Nox adjusted his optics to compensate for the glare and looked out the bus window as they skimmed over the flat countryside. It wasn't often that he--or any of the other kids--got to see open land. These days, most available space was covered with multi-level buildings that reached into the sky and below the ground.

*We're almost there.*

Nox turned, then realized the voice was in his head. He'd dampened his aural sense, what with all the noise the other kids were making. Only Justin had bothered to learn psi. The others liked vocalizing--the louder, the better.

Humans were loud, all of them. Even his parents had to agree there, and they were very accepting. Of course, Nox thought, it was easy for his parents to accept humans. They weren't the ones going to school every day with kids who called them bug-eyes, or Martian, or--

"Hey, Noxious, maybe we'll get lucky and they'll beam you back to your own planet!"

Nox ignored the taunt. He looked out the window again, blinking slowly, looking beyond the reflection that reminded him how different he was. He'd learned not to say anything back. Even if he thought of a good comeback, he'd likely say something wrong, and then they'd have something new to make fun of.

Anyway, this was his planet. He'd been born on Earth, but none of them seemed to care about that.

*Ever been to the museum before?* Justin asked.

Nox suddenly wondered if Justin had learned psi so he could talk to him without looking too much like his friend. *No,* he replied. *Have you?*

*No.* Justin paused and mentally pulled back for a few seconds. *I would've thought you had. I mean, 'cause it's important to...*

*To us.*

*Yeah. To your... people.*

The bus slowed, then stopped, and the kids dashed into the sleek black building before them: the Roswell Museum and Memorial.

Nox followed Justin into the building, enjoying the rush of cool air that greeted them. *Least it's cooler in here,* Justin said. *Thought we'd never get off that bus.*

Nox kept his mental wall up, and he could tell from looking at Justin that the human had sensed the barrier. The two turned to the display case holding the remaining fragments of the craft.

Finally Justin spoke. "My great-grandparents say they remember where they were when they heard about the crash. I guess a lot of people were really scared at first."

Nox felt anger flare. "Still are. Some."

*Those guys don't know any better. They're just stupid.*

*So why won't you talk to me out loud when they're around?*

Justin flushed and looked back at the display. *This is easier.*

*Sure it is.* Nox walked away, quickly, before anyone could see his skin darkening to a grayish-purple. No way was he going to let these guys see him cry.

His parents wanted him to be friends with humans. Fine--except they didn't want him. Why'd they have to move to a place where he was the only one in the whole class--the whole grade, even? They could have taught him at home, or in one of their own schools, where he wouldn't be teased for being fast at math and science and slow at everything else.

Nox pushed open the heavy glass door at the far end of the museum and went out into the warm courtyard. There a sculpture hovered, a sleek replica of how the complete craft looked. Below was a smooth rectangle of black marble with an inscription in English and their own neat, curving language.

FROM AN ENDING, A BEGINNING

PEACE AND PROSPERITY

FOR BOTH NEW WORLDS

Nox reached out one hand and moved his slender gray fingers over the words, as if he might be able to receive something from the stone, the same way his father transmitted memories to him. The few memories from those early days in Roswell were vague and dim from passing through too many minds. He could remember only impressions--of strangeness, uncertainty, anticipation.

Underneath the inscription were the names of the crew, the one who died and the two who lived. It was a simple memorial. A simple museum, really. And there was so much it didn't say.

It said nothing about the early days of panic, when even the President felt they might be a threat. Nothing about the days of medical experiments and imprisonment, when their comms were confiscated and they had no way to contact their superiors or families. Nothing about how both survivors nearly died from accidental exposure to a common strain of flu during one misguided test. Nothing about the zealots who saw their large, staring eyes and called them demon spawn from a Godless world.

He heard someone else leave the building and turned as Justin came to his side.

"I wanted to learn," Justin said. "I know you can't find the right words out loud sometimes. So I thought..." He shrugged. "I thought it'd be easier for you. But we can talk any way you want."

Justin shrugged again and looked down at the stone. He read the inscription out loud, then frowned. "I don't get it."

"What?"

"It says 'both new worlds.' But they all came from the same planet, right?"

"Earth was new to them." Nox tilted his head back to gaze at the sculpted disk. "To us."

"Guess it was new to us, too. I mean, after this happened. It changed a lot of things."

Nox said nothing.

"Maybe some people still haven't gotten used to it yet. Like those guys, I mean. Their parents and stuff." Justin traced his fingers awkwardly around the alien letters. "But I'm glad everybody doesn't feel like that."

A moment passed. Justin looked up at the craft. "Um... Your parents have one of those?"

"In storage."

"They ever let you... you know... take it out sometimes?"

Nox blinked slowly, the equivalent of a sigh. "When I'm eight."

Justin grinned. "Yeah. Sixteen for me." He looked back up. "When they let you... You think you'll go there?"

Nox thought. "I don't know. Maybe. It's a long way, and this is home. I would miss things." Nox hesitated. "I would miss friends."

The teacher was calling them back to the bus. Nox looked once more at the inscription, then back at Justin. "Come to my home?" he asked. "My parents might show it to you. The ship. Maybe you can learn to share memories."

"Yeah." Justin looked at the kids climbing back onto the bus, took a breath, then spoke more firmly. "Yeah, okay. When? Today?"

"Today," Nox said, and they walked back to the bus.

This work and all characters are (c) 2001 Renee Carter Hall ("Poetigress"). May not be reprinted or redistributed without permission.

Field Trip

Poetigress

An older piece than most in my gallery, this one was based on a writing exercise where we were to imagine that the UFO crash at Roswell was a matter of undisputed historical record. From that spark, here's a little story of school days in an alternate history.

This story also appears in Different Worlds, Different Skins (Volume 1) from Anthro Dreams.

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