Karin Maatman

No favours
Friday, 13 September, late evening

Their group of eleven occupied a dimly lit table near the stage of the former Masonic Temple’s restaurant in downtown St. John’s. Dinner theatre, part of their whale-watching-dinner-theatre package, had been a massive hit since they’d introduced it over a year ago.

Ignoring the performance – a rowdy Romeo and Juliet caper, the script of which he could recite by heart after attending twice a week for the four months it’d been on –, Lucas raked a chip around his plate. Today had been a good day, all in all. A calm sea, no mess to clear on deck and in the loos. He and Charlotte had taken the boat out for lunch, eating his cheese and smashed egg sandwiches on deck together, while scores of whales and dolphins breached, frolicked, dived and spy-hopped around them. Charlotte, his tour guide, had told him their customers had been ecstatic when large pods of Cetaceans broke the surface and gathered around the Leanne. The Leanne, she’d gloated, was already appearing in photos taken from their competitor’s vessels. It had been a mesmerising sight, especially when an escort of dolphins followed them into the harbour, spy-hopping as their passengers disembarked.

Across the table, Charlotte laughed at something the man beside her said. Lucas stole a glance at him – handsome, mid-twenties – and felt a pang of jealousy. He wished—

A female performer swathed in a multi-layered-tule, no-colour-omitted dress and veil skipped coquettishly towards their table, startling Lucas. Head-down, he began halving and quartering and eight-ing his final chip. Two legs, clad in rainbow tights and white glitter canvas high-top trainers, halted beside his chair.

“Please, mister, we need a witness,” a chirpy young voice pleaded. “For our wedding, it won’t take long. Please, help us.”

“Of course, my darling.” The bearded, middle-aged man next to Lucas rose to his feet, offering the inspirited bride a cheerful arm. “Anything to smoothen the path of love.”

Lucas breathed a sigh of relief. These evenings would be decidedly less stressful if actors stayed where they belonged – on stage – and left the audience in peace.

He chewed one-eight of a chip. Cetaceans hadn’t been the only non-humans calling at his boat today. At a fair distance from the harbour a crow had been pranking seagulls. When it had pulled a few too many tailfeathers, and the gulls made clear they were skating on thin air, the corvid had landed on the Leanne’s stern to hitch a ride back to shore, dark brown eyes blinking curiously at Lucas in the wheelhouse.

The bearded man took a bow and a round of applause.

“Smashing. Trip’s worth every dime we paid for it.” He offered his wife the bouquet of lollipop flowers he’d received in lieu of a monetary remuneration. His wife giggled girlishly, then posted her husband’s dubious stage debut online.

An hour later, having ducked most chitchat, Lucas got to his feet. Outside, in the crisp and silty night air, he shook nine hands, assuring his customers it had been a pleasure for him too.

“Are you in a hurry?” Walking back to the harbour, Charlotte easily kept up with his long strides. “I thought we could go for a quick drink. I know a great place, just around the corner.”

“I shouldn’t drink before driving.” Caught by surprise – not a fan of being wrong-footed –, Lucas tried to frantically work out why Charlotte would ask. They’d never socialised, not after working hours, and—

Crossing Duckworth Street, gazing at the moon’s silver reflection shimmering in the dark grey harbour, it hit him. Under the yellow lights of the Court House’s antique post-lamps, he ground to a halt. Panicked. Charlotte—

“Don’t worry.” Charlotte looked up at him, laughing. “They have non-alcoholic beverages too. I’m driving, so I’m not drinking either. Come on.” She ducked into McMurlo’s Lane and hopped down the narrow stone stairs to The Duke of Duckworth, leaving him no choice but to follow.

“Yesterday,” she called over her shoulder, pulling at the door, “I read an interesting article about Lagenorhynchus albirostris.”

“The White-beaked dolphin. Similar to Lagenorhynchus acutus.” Hooked, Lucas followed Charlotte into the bar. “... which you would normally find further south. But albirostris is larger and doesn’t have the yellow streaks.”

From the bar, waiting for their order, Lucas tracked Charlotte’s progress between the Friday crowds. She slalomed, ducked and swerved to beat another couple to an empty table in the corner. Then she waved at him from under a, thankfully, silent speaker.

Lucas pulled out the chair across the table and swapped a glass of orange juice for Charlotte’s Lagenorhynchus paper. He stretched his legs, opened a bag of peanuts and started reading.

“Lucas, ...” Charlotte took a handful of peanuts. “...I’m thinking of moving home.”

Lucas dropped his article on the table in front of him. Panic contracted his chest. If Charlotte moved away from St. John’s, she’d leave her job and... Him. She was a marine biologist, overqualified as a tour guide. Possibly, she’d already found a new job, better suited, better pay—

Charlotte smiled. “Don’t worry, you’re not losing me.” She crossed her arms on the table and leaned across. “My apartment is close to work, but I want a bit of outdoor space. I made an appointment to view a house in Maddox Cove on Monday. Would you mind coming along? Ten o’clock, Motion Bay Road.”

“No... Yes... Of course, I’ll go with you.” Lucas hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath. He breathed out slowly. Motion Bay Road was a five-minute walk from his home, but... “I heard of something else you might like. One of my neighbours accepted a job on the west coast. They want to sell quickly.”

“Brilliant. Those views are to die for,” Charlotte said. Most of Shore Lane overlooked Petty Harbour and the ocean. “I sold my parents’ place already; I can move whenever they want. Ask if I can view it on Monday, tell them I’m the perfect buyer.”

“I’ll speak to Roger tomorrow, before he leaves for work.” Then, over the moon, Lucas expressed his joy with an understated, “It would be convenient if we were neighbours.”

“It would be, wouldn’t it? We could share rides. And we could have supper together, as well as breakfast and lunch.” Charlotte lifted her glass, swirling orange juice around in it. She looked back up ... at him. “I like you, Lucas, quite a lot actually, and I won’t mind seeing more of you – outside of work.”

A warmth, unattributable to his orange juice, rose in his chest, as the noise in the bar faded into a distant hum.

“I like you too, Charlotte.” It felt liberating, saying out loud what he’d felt since the day they’d met three years ago. Smiling one of his rare smiles, he boldly suggested, “Monday, we could go for a walk as well, along the East Coast trail.”

“I’d love that. I’ll prepare a picnic.” Charlotte placed her hand in his, her fingers teasing his palm. “Did you notice that crow on the boat this afternoon? It was a magnificent bird.”

“Yes,” Lucas stroked Charlotte’s fingers with his thumb. Today was turning out to be by far the best day of his life. “Yes, it was.”

*

From behind the bar, a hazy shape – tall, green, opaque – watched the couple in the corner. If anyone, against all odds, spotted him, he knew, they’d dismiss him. As a ghost, as a figment of their imagination, as a side-effect of overindulgence.

*

Heart racing, jaw hurting from grinning daftly all the way home from St. John’s, Lucas tackled the steps of the veranda of his sea-fronted Maddox Cove home in one long leap. He took the keys from his pocket, but instead of opening the door, sank down on the wooden bench beside it.

The harvest moon’s golden glow reflected in the cove’s calm surf, in the harbour’s gentle ripples, in the Atlantic’s sinuous waves. Lucas sagged back against the bench, breathing in the night air, silty and scented by pines, spruce and firs. He hadn’t been this happy since before his parents’ death, ten years ago. Charlotte wasn’t leaving; she was moving to Maddox Cove. And she liked him!

Humming a tune, goofy grin on his face, Lucas stood up. He unlocked the door, failing to notice the green silhouette watching him from behind the living room window, and stepped inside.

“Wh—?!”

“Good evening, Lucas.” The intruder, at six feet as tall as Lucas, rested a hand against the back of his neck. Lucas’s legs went limp. Dazed and disorientated, his knees buckled and he collapsed on the sofa.

“I mean you no harm.”

The man’s voice was gentle and hypnotising, rekindling a dream Lucas had had that morning. Twelve strangers veiled by uniquely coloured hazes, around the table in the cabin of the Leanne, a crow each on their shoulders. A nebulous being – tall, alien-like, silvery grey, shrouded in a noctilucent cloak-shaped haze – spoke of a consultation ... Of the annihilation of life on Earth ... Of – Lucas swallowed away a lump of drat! – a hard reset of their planet.

This man, though enveloped in a moss-green translucent mist, appeared human, and vaguely resembled... Lucas gazed at his parents’ wedding photo, at his raven-haired father. Then at a black cloud that was forming around his hands, arms, entire body. And back at the man.

“A spheream. All activated Khered develop one. It is only visible to Neteru and activated Khered. My name is Devyn, I am your liaison. I am a Neteru from Etherun, a planet nine point seven lightyears from Earth.” Devyn scanned the books that lined the walls of Lucas’s living room: biology, medical texts, some on astronomy.

“Many Earth years ago, our scientists initiated an ecological experiment, populating your planet. They tagged key species with a string of dormant DNA, a sequence inherited from great-grandparent to one great-grandchild. We call those tagged individuals, Khered. You, Lucas, are a Khered, and this morning I activated your tag.”

Lucas wasn’t sure what this was leading to, but in his experience, introductions were usually vague, and he was interested in ecology.

“Pollution, aggression, contamination; the human-induced annihilation of mankind and many other species has long been inevitable. An impending series of manmade catastrophic events, however, will affect not only your planet, but the wider Universe. That is why we must intervene. Other key species have been consulted and have advised us of their verdicts.”

Devyn sat down in the armchair beside the sofa. “Do you have any questions before I continue, Lucas?”

With tilted head, Lucas studied the extra-terrestrial. Inexplicably relaxed, curious even, he wondered if the man had administered a tranquiliser when he touched him. Rubbing the back of his neck, he asked, “Are whales a key species?”

“Yes, like dolphins and corvids.”

Lucas nodded. He’d long believed crows and whales deserved more respect than they were afforded. Dolphins, however, seemed too high-spirited, every bit as silly as people.

“To safeguard Universal peace and security, the Interstellar Assembly decided on four options,” Devyn continued. “The preferred option is a reset of Earth: all species remain, except humans – humans as a species will be removed. The second choice is similar, though Khered will remain to restart and supervise human populations.

“Three, wipe Earth of all lifeforms; four, do nothing, a catastrophic event will annihilate all life in this sector of the Universe,” Devyn rushmumbled.

None of these choices did mankind any favours, and Lucas began to suspect what the Neteru expected of him.

“You and twelve fellow-Khered will discuss these options during a series of meetings and present your verdict to the Interstellar representation on Earth, next Friday. Is there anything you would like to ask at this point?”

“How can you be certain of this disaster?” Lucas eyed the black ethereal glove around his hand and stroked it. It felt like a thin layer of compressed air. “And why must all humans be removed?”

“We continuously gather intelligence on your leaders’ intentions. Within a fortnight, one will launch a weapon and initiate a brief but gruesome war which will obliterate all life on this planet. Rendering Earth uninhabitable. Removing only your leaders would postpone human extinction by mere decades, and the threat to other species would be unacceptably high.”

“Then, why have you included option four?”

“Choices are funny things...” Devyn hesitated. “Tomorrow you could take a day off, or go to work; or you could sink your boat or rob a bank.”

“But those last two aren’t realistic.” Lucas couldn’t imagine sinking his boat or robbing a bank – he never even used the tethered mini-pen at the teller’s window without permission.

“Indeed, they are not.” Smiling, Devyn leaned back in his chair. “Now, for the second option you must select seven suitable companions to assist during the restart.”

“Can you elaborate on suitable, please?” Lucas thought of Charlotte.

“Suitable are humans whom you expect you can live and work with for the rest of your life. It is advisable to select skills required for rebuilding a population.”

“Thank you.” Charlotte – smart, practical, good with people – fitted Devyn’s definition perfectly.

“You are welcome. I took the liberty...” Devyn nodded at Lucas’s arm, “to heal that cut. To prevent infection. From now, I’ll assist with the healing process if you sustain an injury.”

Lucas pulled up his sleeve and ripped off the dressing. The cut, where a two-inch, ragged splinter from the veranda had dug deep into his right arm, had vanished. No trace of a scar. “Thank you.”

Fluid, as if a ghost, Devyn rose from his chair. “If you have no further questions, I should go. I must attend an assembly on my home planet.”

“Only one.” Lucas stood too, automatically, as his parents had taught him was polite when a visitor was about to leave. “When is our first meeting?”

“It is scheduled for Monday morning; I’ll visit you again before then. Your corvidaean liaison will introduce herself tomorrow, she knows how to contact me should an emergency arise.”

The Neteru vanished – dissolving into thin air. Lucas pulled his watch from his pocket. He placed it, crown to the right, buckle tongue between the first and second holes, on the coffee table’s glossy chestnut surface. Beside the misshapen vase which had taken pride of place since he’d returned home from school with it, deeply upset about the F his teacher had awarded his third grade art project.
Lucas stroked the uneven red and green glaze which covered a multitude of lumps, dents and cracks. He missed his parents. He missed his sister. He missed them terribly. But even if he kept mostly to himself, he rarely felt lonely. But what if he had no choice? Alone in the world, with Charlotte. ... And six others.

*

Virginia, USA

Her cell buzzed, lighting up the bedroom.

“Yes,” she gruffed, noncommittal.

The voice was unfamiliar.

Unwelcome.

“No, stay. I’ll send you an encrypted phone.”

She switched on the copper bedside lamp.

“Report back after every contact, make sure you’re alone.”

She disconnected, swung her legs out of bed and dialled another number – international.

This was going to be a long day.

Newfoundland, Canada

Crouching behind a dark blue Toyota RAV4, he’d watched the house for hours.

The man had arrived home late and, soon after, the house had been plunged in darkness. Not much was going to happen until the morning, he expected.

He scratched the back of his neck. His hair was greasy, irritating the skin inside his upturned collar. He needed a shower. His clothes needed a wash. Shivering, he checked his cell – nothing – and stole a glance at the house. He pulled the hood of his khaki parka over his head and slinked away.

The Second Choice Den
St. John’s, Saturday morning, 14 September

Sarah reached down and crash-landed her backpack on her desk, adding a bat-shaped crack to its battered and bruised Formica top.

“TOMORROW, I expect you ALL, in the PARKING lot, at TWELVE o’clock, EXACTLY.” Ms Tucker spoke slowly and in capitals, repeating what she’d said three times already, as if they were kindergartners instead of Grade 10s. Ms switched off the beamer, and her final slide:

DO take notes

DO pay attention

DO be polite

DON’T litter

DON’T eat or drink

DON’T shout

DON’T interrupt your elders

cleared from the mottled cream wall.

The instructions had appeared at the beginning, the middle and the end of a ‘special briefing’– for which they’d been summoned back to school on a Saturday morning – to prepare them for tomorrow’s excursion.

A week ago, the headmaster had called Ms Tucker out of class. Listening at the door, Sarah had heard him grumble he’d ‘received a memo from the Ministry of Education,’ and that, ‘some civil servant, who needs their head examined, tells me these special needs cases would benefit from extra stimulus.’ The Ministry had pre-booked a whale watching trip and submitted health and safety forms, ‘leaving him to foot the bill’. While Ms Tucker complained it was ‘her weekend down the drain’, Sarah gave her five classmates a thumbs up.

“Monday morning, you hand in an essay on your favourite fish, and you, Ethan Kennedy...” Tying her navy and white polka dot scarf around her neck, Ms Tucker glowered at Ethan’s long hair and torn trousers. “Gettahaircut. I’m not taking you anywhere looking like a vagrant.”

Fifteen minutes later, passkey in hand, Sarah leaned against the washbasins in the girls’ loos where they’d hidden since Ms Tucker dismissed them.

“All clear, she’s gone,” she said, eyeing the footage on her mobile. The camera they’d installed over their form room door was an early warning system. It had also caught the person who had perma-marked their door with: ‘Second Choice Den’