Zeeko was happy in his bubble. It wasn’t a particularly large one, but it was all he needed. All he should ever need, he’d been told. A soup of breathable, digestible liquid buoyed his light frame. It warmed him, bathed him, and kept him secure.
A purple tinge of ultraviolet ringed a supernova remnant in the distance. Silver x-ray blobs gave it a soft halo. He flared both hands, and pushed towards that side, skin between elongated fingers stretched to maximum, webbed feet kicking alternately. With a palm against the inner surface, he reduced shielding to let in an extra dose of the energy-reviving rays streaming from that ancient solar apocalypse. Sometimes, just for fun, he allowed nebula dust to filter through the membrane. He liked the way it tickled.
He thought-propelled his bubble closer to a sharing node, then eased it up against Anilla's. Surfaces glommed together. Permeability rose, allowing them to share bacteria-sized data packets, and chemical traces of memories and emotions. The two friends took a moment to absorb each other’s recent history. Anilla had been working on a new piece of art. Zeeko experienced the joy she took in her craft. She could feel Zeeko's excitement for his project, an investigation of those who had traveled through the great Crevasse. She was thrilled, and communicated her support for his quest.
He had pulsed his wish for that information through the cloud of bubbles, where it was relayed by anyone who came into contact with it. Zeeko did the same throughout his day, intuitively redirecting a thousand messages, questions, or requests along the most relevant path.
It was the rogue clusters he was really interested in. Those empty, discarded mini-globules that tore away from their clutch-sacs, to be swept along the Meridian Corridor. Swift running currents carried them faster and faster, until they ultimately passed through the Crevasse, and were lost.
What was beyond that slit in the fabric of the continuum? Myths from the distant past told of cultures on the other side that remained stuck to surface habitats. He’d often told others of his burning desire to explore there.
“Don’t go near the Toody pools,” many in his clutch-sac had warned. “You’ll be pulled into a pocket and flattened before you know it.” But Zeeko waved off their advice as the anxiety of those who feared the unknown. To him it was irresistible.
***
He pulled his bubble away from the main mass, to drift alone for a while. Far from the only world he had ever known, Zeeko looked back at his birth home.
The belt stretched along vast tracts of space, like a wide swath of intertwining ribbons. A billion surfaces reflected red, yellow, blue starlight. Centralized hubs were embedded in spiraling masses of single-inhabitant bubbles, like a patchwork of fractal shaped arrays. At its furthest ends, the belt disappeared into the depths of the cosmos. No one knew how large it really was, or how long it had been like this.
There was a time when the Crevasse was still unknown. Sails were used to pull homes to richer climes. Before that, many believed, Zeeko’s kind had been flatlanders who dwelt at the bottoms of gravity wells, like the Toody societies. Now, his people understood that surface dwelling was just a temporary step in the evolution of any species. Creatures first swam in the oceans, and were destined to swim in space.
Zeeko recalled when he first ventured out. He wasn't sure why he did it, but the combination of fear and joy he experienced was new and intriguing. Again and again he left, further away each time, until the idea struck him that there should be no limit to where he roamed. What else was out there? He longed to find an answer.
One last time, he rejoined his clutch-sac.
***
Anilla had combined her bubble with Iri's. They met Zeeko on his return. The three bubbles melded around a common center, forming a bumpy triangle. Iri promised to share word of Zeeko's venture with her other friends. She expressed her hope for his safe return. Anilla said she was sure his tale would make one of the great stories, to be added to the universal library. His experiences would be relived for all time to come.
Zeeko fondly thanked them, and let them know he would remember their kindness no matter where, or how far, his route took him.
Finally, he headed out.
***
At first, he kept familiar sites in view. Quasars, pulsars, and black hole accretion disks were all more distinct out here. He could zoom in on each, and store their detailed maps in his library, across multiple wavelengths.
He grew bolder, and headed into the strong pull of the current. It accelerated him directly into the spatial gap, until he could no longer direct the action of his protective sphere. The surrounding universe blackened, entire galaxies blinked out. He twisted backwards, and caught the last glimpse of home as it was engulfed by the void.
***
Vibrations coursed through his body. Unknown forces pressed on the bubble's exterior, warping it, and spinning it out of control, until he had lost all sense of direction. When the tumbling subsided, Zeeko found that he had emerged on the other side. Ahead, a patch of faint stars. Behind, the tail of that sinewy rift he had just passed through. He noted its position.
With control of his bubble regained, he explored in all directions. Here, there were no clutch-sacs, no ribbons of reflected light. Instead, he found small collections of tiny dots in varied colors. Larger dots at the center were surrounded by smaller ones on the same plane, like round plates of scattered bubbles. He thought it must be a detached and lonely existence for any beings residing there.
He moved closer. One dot, that started as a blue crescent speckled with white, grew into a round ball covered in a thin haze as he circled. He made three orbits, each one lower in order to get a better look at all the fascinating textures. But he went too far down, and couldn’t propel himself back out. Descending fast, his bubble began to overheat, so he used that thermal energy to harden the outer layer into an opaque, leathery shell.
The bubble didn't bounce, exactly, but the lower half rebounded when it struck pavement. Rips spread along the bottom. It rolled for a short distance, then stopped near the outskirts of a coastal city. The surface cleared. The leaking sphere began to deflate, sagging to the ground. Zeeko looked on helplessly as its life-giving contents dissolved around him.
***
Donnie's mother yelled up at him from the kitchen. “You better have a good reason to be late. Come down and get your breakfast!”
He threw the flexi-comic onto the bed. It curled back into a scroll. Stepping onto a pair of gel-pads that squished up around his feet, he chose black and red striped sneakers this time. He bounded down the steps three at a time, plopped into a chair, and started playing with the printed egg matter and faux-pork slices on his plate.
His mother said, “You’ll have to fend for yourself until tomorrow. I'll be working in a far side dig, staying at the company compound tonight.”
“Fine,” he said, and took two bites before jumping up and grabbing his coat. “I'm gone.” The polymorph jacket pulled in snuggly around his upper body, warming itself up a bit as he headed into the dawn air.
***
So many straight lines. So many edges.
“Hey, Floater!” The shout tore across Zeeko's awareness. His small frame sloshed about in the gelatinous mess that had once been his home. A boy loomed over him. “Floaters aren't allowed down here, so why don'tcha go back where you came from?”
Zeeko shivered in the cold morning air. He rolled his head towards a gang gathering near, and winced at the bright orange sun. He wanted to block it out with his hand, but could barely raise either arm against the strong gravity.
“Can't you hear me, freak?”
Soft pulses of air pressed against Zeeko's skin. He could see the lower part of the mammal's face distort, muscles pulling at the fleshy edges of its ingestion orifice.
Ah. Pressure wave communication.
Accessing what libraries he had left, Zeeko quickly absorbed the archaic dialect. In only a few seconds, he learned the mechanism of taking in the surrounding gases, and exuding them to create pulses of his own.
“Are ...” he spoke hesitantly, gurgling as bits of gray goo flew past his thin lips. “Are you a Toody?”
Donnie stepped back, disgusted at the display. Other boys drew in closer, faces in shadow. “Yuck,” one of them said. “What is that thing?”
Behind them, an oblivious crowd continued their way along the downtown street, strolling past shopkeepers, junk sellers, food stalls. An organofilm splashed its branching plot across building facades, the story line directed by the averaged subconscious opinions of passersby.
“Please,” Zeeko said. “I need your help.”
Donnie said, “What’s gonna happen if I don’t? Your people aren’t around.”
Zeeko discovered that, for a brief time, he could refresh his energy reserves from this system's narrow band of solar rays. He reached out, faster than Donnie could react, and placed a glove-like hand against the boy's chest. Donnie's eyes snapped shut, his body stiffened, head tilted up as if stargazing.
The boy was transported an unfathomable distance, and an unknown amount of time, into the past. Donnie wasn't sure how he knew this, or whether it was real or simulation. It certainly looked and felt real. He existed in space, alone, with no apparent means of protection.
Off to the right, he saw the colony. One thousand, million coalesced spheres stretched in a band across infinity. He wanted to take a closer look, and found himself hovering just outside rows upon rows of communal pods. The inhabitants of the central spheres were passing through membrane barriers into neighboring bubbles, until an empty disk stretched nearly as far as he could see in any direction.
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Donnie had the urge to retreat back to get a better view. Instantly, he was far enough away to see the mass of unoccupied dwellings begin to swell outwards. The convex shape bulged until the bubbles along the perimeter separated from the colony. The now independent sub-colony moved with purpose towards a nearby star system.
Donnie followed. Before long, he could make out the gleam of small, metallic objects some distance away. Ships? No, not quite. Attack drones! Now, he could clearly make out the fleet of weapon-equipped robotic fighters exiting the system, heading straight for the colony. But the pod mass was in their way. It separated into segments, each targeting its own section of the bot force. He drew closer as the bots emitted razor-thin particle beams that passed through the bubbles with no seeming effect. The spheres engulfed each bot. Their membranes contracted around the metal machines, merged on the surfaces, then disappeared.
The bot army slowed its progression, and halted. As if on cue, the entire fleet disintegrated simultaneously, replaced by a slowly expanding cloud of dusty residue.
Suddenly, Donnie was back on the city street. Zeeko's arm flopped to the ground.
The gang surged forward, uncertain of what had just taken place. A shake of Donnie’s head held them off.
Zeeko managed a weak smile. “Please, Donnie. Please.”
The boy hesitated. Another said, “G'won Donnie, squash him! He don't deserve to be here with us!”
Donnie raised a booted foot over the alien lying helpless, and looked back at the gang. Zeeko closed his eyes.
***
The room was filled sparsely: a small bed, discarded food wrappers on the single nightstand, crumpled clothes on a dresser top. Mid-morning light fell through the only window. A cramped bathroom lay across the hall.
Donnie walked across the narrow corridor, and leaned in. He said, “Remember to stay quiet. Don't want the biosense alarm to go off while I’m gone.”
Zeeko was stretched out along the bottom of the tub, soaking in a shallow layer of water. He just nodded, absorbed in the experience of repeatedly raising his arms and letting the water slide over his hands, and through his fingers. The liquid environment he was used to had always been viscous, dense with nutrients and trillions of the nano-scale chemical and information shuttling machines that connected his entire culture.
Donnie asked, “You said a bag of epsom salt, a jar of resin, and ... what was the other thing?”
Zeeko stopped his arms in midair, and turned his head slightly. “Agar. That's available, I assume?”
“Never heard of it. I'll check the supply store.” Donnie pulled the door behind him, leaving it slightly ajar. “Back soon.”
With the boy gone, Zeeko reflected on how fortunate it was to find a sympathetic companion. Donnie had chosen to carry him home, ignoring the jeers that came from behind. Zeeko had been eager to learn about this world from him, and asked, “Why did you call me 'Floater'?”
“I read about them, er, you, once in some histo-doc. Floating fish people in space, right?”
“Sort of. A long way from your planet, though.” Zeeko had spent a few minutes watching cloud patterns, then asked, “Do you have spaceflight here?”
“Sure. My mom works in Luna Tunnel 23. She's a miner.”
Zeeko had fallen silent for the rest of the trip. He doubted he could ever regain enough energy to escape the downward pull holding him hostage. The only possibility was finding a large enough burst of power to set him free.
***
His new friend returned to the apartment a short time later, carrying a bag, and holding a jar under each arm. Zeeko had him open the bag, and poured the salts into the water. Zeeko leaned forward, swishing the mix around with his hands. He sighed, and slid back down into the tub.
Donnie asked, “What do I do with the other stuff?”
“Mix the agar in a bowl of hot water, then cover the bowl. We'll have to wait a few hours to use it. For now I just need to soak.”
***
“Man,” Donnie said, “this stuff stinks.” He had the bowl of bacterial paste in one hand, and pinched his nose with the other. He asked, “Ready to mix it in?”
Zeeko made a sound somewhere between coughing and gargling. One corner of his mouth pulled up when he stated, “No, Donnie.” There was something very much like a chuckle in his voice. “That would not work efficiently.”
“Ok, what then?”
“I'm going to eat it.”
“Gross.” Donnie left the room while Zeeko consumed his meal.
An hour later Donnie returned. He noticed all the water in the tub was gone, and that Zeeko had rings of orange blisters around his arms and legs.
Donnie asked, “Doesn’t that hurt?”
“Not at all. I was uncomfortable at first, like I was going to explode, but now I’m fine.”
By noon, the welts had expanded to cover him completely. Zeeko looked like a puffed up, dusky brown balloon animal. He had Donnie lift him out of the tub, and onto a blanket covering the bedroom floor. Just as the boy stepped back, a loud pop startled him. The bubble engulfed Zeeko, its opaque surface vibrating like a plucked guitar string. Seconds later, it faded to translucency, then to a shimmering reflection of the contents of the room. Zeeko stood inside, wobbling slightly.
He fanned his arms around, and rose a few centimeters off the bottom. With concentrated effort, he managed to slowly raise the bubble, until it bounced gently against the ceiling. Zeeko was smiling, once again in his natural state of suspension.
At his instruction, Donnie attached a plastic cord to the bottom of the bubble using the resin. The boy found he could understand Zeeko's words as long as he held onto the tether. He asked, “Why do we need that?”
“Tonight we're going for a walk downtown.”
***
The setting sun cast the pair's shadows on the concre-foam pavement. It fluoresced pale green from embedded lumi-moss. The avenue was lined with virtual re-enactments of drug raids and fire rescues, open to audience participation. Another night might entail interactive theater, soni-lev sculpture, or team sports. Worldwide vote determined which of the many scenarios would be placed at thousands of venues around the globe. A boy pulling a large balloon by a string was nothing extraordinary, even though this balloon had an alien inside.
Zeeko was fascinated by the spectacle. “Donnie,” he asked, “the people here understand those are illusions, yet they somehow enjoy the pretense?”
“Yeah, it's just playtime. We know it's not real.”
“There are no false realities for my people. All our experiences are real, whether artistic creation, or re-experienced historical observation.”
“Like when you put your hand on my chest? I guess I understand that.” He paused. “So, what are we looking for?”
“A circus. I'm going to get blasted out of a cannon.”
For the first time since Zeeko had met him, Donnie laughed. The boy asked, “A what?”
“The term 'cannon' is no longer used? My lexicology library for your world must be out-of-date.”
“I saw a human missile once, if that's what you mean. A railgun launched him all the way across the bay into another city.”
“That's exactly what I need!” Zeeko's excitement caused his bubble to start lifting away. Donnie grabbed onto the cord with both hands.
“But how would you survive the blast? You can't fit your bubble down a narrow barrel.”
“I can retract the bubble into a stiff coating over my skin. It's quite heat and impact resistant. There wasn't enough time to do that when I started falling through your atmosphere.”
“Well, there was a circus here a couple weeks ago, but it was the virtual kind.”
“That won't do, of course. Where can we find a real one?”
“I'll check at the next info-node down the block.”
***
The circus experience in Donnie's time no longer included captive creatures, or repeated performances of traditional stunts. Instead, the acts were staged by human chameleons who routinely altered themselves using surgical remodeling, genetic manipulation, and chemical enhancement. Computer-controlled devices and electronic prosthetics were not allowed, in order to retain the organic nature of the entertainment.
They had stayed out most of the night, taking in the downtown sights, then returned to Donnie’s room in the early morning. Zeeko hibernated while Donnie took a quick nap.
Now, during the daytime, the circus grounds were closed. Donnie managed to scale the fence, with Zeeko in tow. Brightly colored lights from shape-shifting billboards seemed to ooze around Zeeko in his bubble’s liquid interior.
They approached a vertical, rotating disk of spoked lights that caught Zeeko’s attention. He asked, “What is that?”
“A Ferris Wheel, I think. They used to be pretty common. Don't see'em much anymore.”
“How does it work?” Zeeko seemed enthralled by the contraption.
“Not sure. Wanna take a closer look?” Zeeko's rapid nods gave a clear answer.
The ride was unmanned, but kept in motion by a magnetic propulsion system. It sensed their proximity and slowed to a halt. Each seat was actually the small chassis of a discarded vehicle, gutted of its hardware. They found one large enough for Zeeko to fit his bubble into. Donnie laid the cord on the seat next to Zeeko, and stepped back as the ride started up again.
Zeeko twisted in all directions on his way up to the top. He pointed excitedly at objects in the distance, and seemed to be talking, but Donnie couldn't hear without the tether. The boy just shook his head at an alien who could travel light-years in a tiny spaceship, yet somehow find it thrilling to go round and round on a metal wheel.
After several spins, the rotation stopped. Donnie stepped over and grabbed the cord, helping Zeeko guide his bubble out of its seat. The boy grinned at the wide-eyed alien, and asked, “Still in a hurry to leave my planet?”
“I'll have to return! Others may come with me, once I tell them about this.”
Donnie said, “Maybe we'll become the destination spot for vacationing aliens everywhere.” He laughed, but Zeeko didn't get the joke. Donnie continued, “Anyway, the railgun is probably on the far side of this place, close to the city's edge. Let's go look there.”
They passed the stacked-up remains from the last show: giant spring-loaded leg casings, human-sized dragonfly wings made from silicon plating, and things they couldn't even identify. Finally, they spotted what looked like an elongated, stepped pyramid angled over the waterway. The gun’s barrel had flattened tubing wrapped around it. As they got closer to its blocky base, they noticed a large lever on one side.
Donnie said, “Must be the power switch.” He looked up, gazing at the muzzle high above. “How will you get in?”
“I'll need to climb up.”
“Climb way up there? You sure you can do that?”
Zeeko gave his version of a shrug, and said, “If I can, then this is goodbye. For now.”
“Yeah, I guess so. Come back soon, Zeeko.”
“I owe you a great deal, Donnie. Thank you.”
He directed Donnie to detach the tether, and the bubble lowered to the ground. Zeeko sank to the bottom. He crouched, and pulled his knees in tight. The bubble went dark, then began to shrink. Dozens of dimples pitted the exterior. They grew larger and deeper, until the whole thing was just a lumpy mass.
There was a sound like pulling stickers off skin as Zeeko extended one arm, and then the other. When he stood up, he was as tall as Donnie. His face was smooth and featureless, torso and limbs starting to drip like wet taffy. Before the drips fell, they pulled back in, thickening the firm casing that covered him head to toe. It looked like shellac. His eyes cracked open, and he peeked at Donnie. A thin line appeared where his mouth should be, curving up at the ends.
Zeeko climbed the base, and began scurrying up the barrel. Before long, he had reached the summit. He swung his legs over the edge, and turned and waved. Donnie waved back, and Zeeko dropped from sight. Donnie waited a few seconds before flipping the lever.
Spirals of magenta raced from the bottom to the top of the barrel. Donnie’s scalp started tingling, so he took a few steps away. A buzzing like a thousand angry bees grew louder, until it reached a crescendo that made him plug his ears.
At the end of the barrel a narrow, blue beam emerged, cutting through the clear morning sky. A clap of thunder followed. Then Zeeko burst into view, hurtling along the beam’s laser-straight trajectory, until he was lost from sight. Squinting at the spot where his friend had disappeared, Donnie whispered, “Bye, Zeeko. Hope you make it home.”
***
At lunch, his mother was about to turn the wall-vid off, when an announcer came on the screen. “Special report. Engineers on the moon say they saw a strange object pass overhead this morning. Reports are conflicting, but one source says it was headed away from Earth. Scientists dispute the claims, stating there were no scheduled launches today. We'll keep you posted as more information comes in.”
Donnie squeezed the cord coiled up in his pocket. He already had a dozen more lying ready under his bed.