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  Gaia dully repeated this. She wasn’t religious, but it seemed mean to speak ill of the defenseless dead. Seigata continued.

  “There must be a protector for its cursed spirit, for even a contaminated spirit is given mercy by the Exalted Oziru.” Seigata paused. Gaia echoed this part with more gusto.

  “I will be the protector of the kaijamfutan who was called Kenjan in life. I will give to it the prayers of succor. I will give to it the food. I will be strong against its deceitful corruptions, and hear none of its mournful pleadings until the end of my days.”

  Gaia repeated everything until the last part.

  “But what if I have to go home, to Earth?” Gaia asked.

  “Then you take the ghost with you.”

  “I have to take the little house?” Gaia gestured across to the shell grotto.

  “No, just the ghost that dwells within. It is not so difficult. Many guardians wander with ghosts, swimming and begging. In this way they see the whole of the ocean. Not many of us do.” Seigata lowered its hand, and the servant withdrew with the oath. “Will you complete the oath, please?”

  A nasty feeling churned through her stomach. She was reluctant to make a commitment. She didn’t believe in ghosts. What less substantial promise could she make? To her, this oath should have had the emotional impact of the disclaimer on a bottle of aspirin. By opening this bottle of pain killers you release Mega Analgesic Corp. and all its subsidiaries of all liability for accidental decapitation via faulty bottle cap, etc. And yet, she balked. Fitzpatrick had her psyched out.

  But, if something really bad happened, she could always go back to Earth and hide. A Mongolian yurt wasn’t that bad.

  She took a breath. “I will be strong against its deceitful corruptions, and hear none of its mournful pleadings until the end of my days.”

  “Excellent.” Seigata’s voice soothed her. The alien raised its hand again and another servant came forward, carrying an oyster the size of a large dinner plate. As the servant drew near, the shell opened. Nestled inside the grayish folds of wet oyster flesh were two bracelets: one red, one black. They were oblong and wide, like cuffs, but the material they were made of was thin as paper. Once they were close, Gaia could see tiny, subtle fractal shapes beneath the shiny shell surface. Seigata picked them up.

  “Allow me to confer upon you the symbol of your rank. Please hold out your hands.”

  Gaia nodded. Tattooing seemed imminent, and she was ready.

  She removed her wrist braces and gingerly presented her hands. She worried that her hands would flop listlessly at the ends of her wrists but they held firm. The surgical scars were still quite red.

  “These marks of honor will cover your battle scars.”

  “Great.” Though the scars had a certain Frankenstein-monster chic, she wasn’t attached to them.

  Seigata slid the bracelets over her arms, bringing them to rest just above her wrists. They felt fairly tight, but strangely velvety inside. They tingled. Worry gnawed at Gaia’s composure. The tingling got worse. Seigata rubbed its thumbs over the flexible surface of the bracelets, whispering.

  “To be Kenjan’s guardian is most important of all. Kenjan was a heretic in life and vengeful in death. Possession is always a danger and those lowest Kishocha, the workers and servants, are weakest against ghosts. You have a great burden to carry, but you must never weaken. Remember that responsibility can sting, but nothing is greater than serving society. Be unafraid.” Seigata squeezed the bracelets and a horrible burning sting spread from under them.

  Gaia tried to pull back, but Seigata held her fast. As she watched, the bands began to visibly drain of color, until both were a flaccid gray. It only took seconds. Afterward, Seigata peeled the bracelets back to reveal two wide bracelet-shaped tattoos. There was no blood, just a vague, lingering ache.

  Gaia suppressed her anger at the pain. She began to get the uneasy feeling that she’d signed a contract without bothering to read the fine print. All her interactions with the Kishocha had been very physically taxing. She’d learned some things about the aliens.

  Never touch a hurt Kishocha.

  Never eat anything they give you.

  Trust your nose when it tells you that their food will kill you. It will.

  Never let them put anything on you.

  Always ask questions.

  Always, always, always ask questions.

  Gaia decided to put this last revelation into practice immediately.

  “Will these hurt forever?” Gaia asked.

  Seigata laughed. “No, only for a few minutes.”

  “If you’re a Kishocha.”

  “No, a marking was tested on another human before we tried to give it to you. The man said it was fine, and no death occurred.”

  “That’s good I suppose.” Gaia fought to restrain her sarcasm. Getting angry right now wouldn’t do any good, so she just listened carefully as the alien spoke.

  Seigata explained that the grotto on the island was the ghost’s sanctified residence.

  Gaia figured that part out already. The ghost’s house was very small, but then again, it wasn’t like anything substantial was going to be living there. Seigata presented her with a fleshy roll of papery things. These were the prayers that she must learn. Gaia didn’t read Kishocha and said so. Seigata replied that they’d been translated into American Clan Human writing, and added that the ghost spoke English so it would understand.

  “My time is precious, now, for there is much to do. So I will call the waters and be gone.”

  Seigata rose. Gaia followed the alien to the mysterious second door. A thrill of excitement and trepidation ran through her. She’d never seen the Kishocha part of the station. Now Seigata seemed to be leading her to it. Then she remembered the fine print and hung back a little. Who knew what was on the other side of that door? It could sting, burn or nauseate her. Seigata beckoned her forward.

  “These are the sacred waters of Ki Island,” it said.

  The corridor beyond looked pretty much just like the chamber she stood in. Blank, pearly walls but where the floor would be a lazy pink river flowed.

  “Now I will call forth the waters.” Seigata sang a long, low series of notes. All along the inside of the trench, tunnels gasped open. Pink water rushed into the empty trough. Now and then confused fish or crustaceans tumbled through. When the water equalized, a thick band of water ringed the ghost’s island.

  “It is now ready for the coming of the ghost, and you are ready to receive it. You should take this night to meditate on the meaning of your position and to purify yourself for the Summoning.” Seigata walked Gaia back to her bedroom. The door closed, and Gaia was back in the human realm. She rubbed her hands over the new tattoos to try and relieve the tingling. Once she returned to her bedroom, she wrote Fitzpatrick a message.

  From now on, I want ten thousand dollars for every time an alien physically alters me.

  Sincerely,

  Gaia

  Five minutes later, Fitzpatrick responded:

  As you wish.

  F.

  Chapter Six: The Summoning

  Though comparatively large, Gaia’s new living quarters were too small to comfortably contain a full ambassadorial entourage. She felt silly. She sat on the end of her bed waiting for Oziru to call her to the Summoning. Blum occupied Gaia’s only chair. Fitzpatrick paced the room. Four secretaries lounged uncomfortably against her bathroom wall. Roy and Cheryl, her new employees, sat cross-legged on her throw rug and played cards. Once she went in, they were to escort Blum and minions out, and lock up Happy Snak. Gaia suspected they just wanted to see more Kishocha up close. Roy held his camera in his lap.

  “I can wait alone,” Gaia said.

  “It would be best if we saw you off,” Fitzpatrick said. “Aren’t you uncomfortable having this door in your bedroom?”

  “It’s a little creepy sometimes.”

  “Maybe we should build you a small foyer so that you have some privacy.” Fitzp
atrick gingerly touched the Kishocha door. “I don’t like that they can have access to you at any time.”

  “We have to follow the requisite course until Gaia establishes a relationship with Oziru, then we can negotiate for better living arrangements. She already lives far above her Kishocha caste,” Blum said.

  “Still, the mental strain will begin to wear.” Fitzpatrick unwrapped a stick of cigarette gum. “Don’t you think, Gaia?”

  “The mental strain is beginning to wear right now.”

  “Would you like some gum?” He offered his pack—a blue Gitanes-brand box with a gypsy on the label. Gaia declined. She hardly ever chewed cigarette gum.

  The door dilated open. Fitzpatrick stepped back. Roy held his camera at the ready.

  Oziru leaned into the doorway. It briefly acknowledged Blum and then held out its hand to Gaia. She took it automatically.

  “It is time.”

  Gaia fought the urge to run, suddenly fearful of what would happen to her. Belatedly she wondered if she should have dressed up for the ceremony. “Should I change?”

  “We like you as you are.” Oziru started into the shrine. Gaia held back, suddenly needing to confirm arrangements for her absence.

  “Roy and Cheryl will let you all out,” she told the assorted diplomatic personnel.

  “I think I might stay here until you get back,” Fitzpatrick said.

  Oziru countermanded him instantly. “You are not needed now. Return to your dwelling. Gaia Jones will call for you if necessary. If I suspect you of lingering to spy I will call down my wrath upon you.”

  “Of course.” Fitzpatrick inclined his head. “I meant no offense.”

  It was a good effort, but Oziru was too powerful for Fitzpatrick to defy. Gaia gave him a weak grin and stepped into the shrine. By the time she looked back, the door had closed.

  The shrine was more humid than before. Light still emanated from the domed ceiling. The pink moat was calm. The walls glistened with a sheen of condensation, as did the floor. Even though the walkway was ten feet wide, Gaia worried about falling in the moat. Oziru kept hold of her upper arm. Should she be reassured or worried by that?

  As they walked around the edge of the room, Seigata and its attendants came into view. Seigata wore a long shell robe and stood beside the coffinlike box Kenjan had been put inside. Seigata’s six attendants knelt along the wall. The top of the box was translucent. Dark shadows moved through the pink liquid within. Gaia recoiled. Was there something inside the coffin with the body?

  Kenjan was alive when it had gone into that box. A grim, sick feeling moved through Gaia. Had Kenjan just been shut in there to die? Why would Oziru do that to someone it loved?

  Maybe that had been a different box.

  “I hope that you will feel at peace here on our island in the void,” Oziru said. “I am grateful for your commitment to the well-being of the ghost. Ghosts cannot swim the waters alone.”

  “It’s no problem.” Gaia shrugged out of Oziru’s grip. Oziru didn’t try to keep hold of her, but it was clear to Gaia that Oziru had chosen to release her.

  “The Summoning might be difficult for you. If you feel frightened, you may cling to me.”

  “Thank you.” And if Gaia felt frightened of Oziru, whom should she cling to then?

  Oziru stopped about six feet from the box and ordered Seigata to begin. Seigata discarded its long robe. Gaia saw delicate markings over the alien’s chest and limbs. She smelled its thick caustic scent. An attendant crawled forward and gathered Seigata’s robe up before slinking back. Seigata gave a sign, and its attendants began a polyphonic chant. One rang a bell at nonsensical intervals. The chanting echoed up through the dome, amplifying exponentially. Gaia heard nothing else.

  Seigata walked to the water’s edge and leapt into the air. Seigata piked its body, twisted and plunged under the water. Moments later the alien burst up from a different spot, twisted and dived back down.

  Water crashed. Waves overflowed the moat, sloshing up over Gaia’s feet.

  Seigata continued, churning the waters to a frenzy with its acrobatics. A wave surged into Gaia’s shins. She teetered and grabbed for Oziru’s arm. She missed and stumbled. Gaia struggled to regain her footing. She found her feet just as Seigata shot back into the air again. It arched over the entire ghost island, then it drew up its knees and plunged into the water, cannonball-style. The resulting wave slammed into Gaia and Oziru. Gaia flailed. Oziru glanced to her curiously as she struggled to remain upright.

  A few seconds later, she steadied herself. Seigata rode a ripple over to them. Its nostril slits gasped open and the membranes pulled back from its eyes. The alien looked directly at her and she thought its expression was that of a physician staring down an infectious disease. She stepped slightly behind Oziru.

  An attendant approached with Seigata’s robe and held it while the alien redressed. Seigata said, “This chamber has been purified.”

  “Then take the ghost to its home,” Oziru intoned.

  Seigata made a sign, and its attendants encircled the box. Two attendants carried it to the edge of the moat, opened the end and dumped Kenjan’s body unceremoniously into the water. Kenjan’s limp form slid out in a thick sheath of mucousy membrane. The attendants left the shrine, taking the box with them. Kenjan’s body sank. Were they just going to leave it there to rot?

  Seigata moved to the edge of the water, singing a piercing chant. Two more attendants followed, each carrying a half-clamshell of black fluid. They crawled along the floor writing double rows of squiggly letters. The shrine was big. This could take a while.

  Gaia wanted to ask if that was all the violent water there would be, but sensed this was a non-talking moment. She was glad the room was warm, since she was drenched. Water dribbled down her back. Oziru watched the surface of the water intently, as if it was restraining its every urge.

  Gaia, too, watched the water looking for the shadowy motion she’d seen inside Kenjan’s coffin. She hoped it had only been her imagination, but felt deep unease at the idea that there was something alien under the water. Something other than Kenjan’s corpse. Something that would be living right on the other side of her bedroom door.

  Once the circle of writing was closed, Oziru turned its attention to Gaia.

  “May I have your hand?”

  Gaia balked. “Will it hurt?”

  “Only a little,” Oziru said. “It is necessary. The ghost must be bound by blood.”

  Gaia extended her arm. She focused on the next pain and suffering payment. Maybe she could buy a new fryer.

  An attendant handed Oziru a needle. Oziru pricked her finger and caught the droplet in a small vial of yellow liquid. Gaia’s blood sank to the bottom.

  “Stay back against the wall.” Holding the vial, Oziru walked to the line of calligraphy. It turned to Seigata. “Approach Kenjan’s servant.”

  Seigata gave a sign, and two attendants rose and exited the Kishocha door. They returned immediately, leading Wave Walker, from the informational film.

  In person, Wave stood close to six feet tall. Its cranial tendrils hung limp and partially obscured its face. Dazed and groggy, Wave staggered between the two attending Kishocha. Its body was white and thin, with enormous hands and feet.

  The attendants pushed Wave to the floor at Oziru’s feet. Seigata withdrew to join the attendants’ chant.

  Oziru sang a series of three deafening notes, then said, “Oziru am Kenjan, I call you to reside here. I bind you to your protector, Happy Snak’s Gaia Jones, and I give you your servant Wave Walker to accompany you. Come to receive your binding.”

  Oziru then knelt beside Wave. Gaia watched the expression on Oziru’s face as it contemplated the servant—the curled lip, the narrowed eyes. Was that regret? Disgust? She couldn’t be sure. Oziru lifted a knife, pushed the tip into Wave’s wrist and dragged the blade across Wave’s skin. Not deeply, but decisively. Black blood streamed out, dripping on the floor. Wave’s only reaction was to stare. Wave lo
oked drugged. A rivulet of alien’s blood wound along the floor until it dripped into the moat.

  Gaia didn’t want to see this or know it had happened. She felt powerless to interfere and yet she could not be a mute witness.

  “Please stop,” she said. Oziru stopped cutting. Its gaze was terrible. Gaia couldn’t believe the alien had heard her above the chanting.

  “It must be done.” Oziru bent to its work. The Kishocha cut a new furrow on Wave’s arm, paused and started a third.

  A hand burst up from the water, seized Oziru’s knife and hurled it away. Kenjan pulled itself up on the edge of the moat. Gaia leapt back against the wall, gasping with the new and sudden knowledge that Kenjan was still alive—had been alive for weeks inside that coffin. Kenjan was no ghost; at least not by human standards.

  For a moment Oziru and Kenjan simply looked into each other’s eyes. Wave groaned weakly. No one seemed to notice or care. Oziru gently pushed Wave’s arm aside and said, “My beloved, you have become a ghost. I bind you to this place and to your guardian until the currents cease to move the sea.”

  Kenjan opened its mouth, but didn’t speak. It took in Wave and the ring of writing on the floor and finally Gaia. Then the Kishocha exploded with rage. It howled and thrashed and screamed out strings of unintelligible syllables. She thought she caught a few words, like “traitor” and “hate”, but she couldn’t be sure.

  Keeping her back to the wall, Gaia sidled toward her bedroom door. This night had turned out so differently than she’d planned. She had expected a ceremony wherein a non-living ghost-concept would, in theory, be brought into Happy Snak. Gaia didn’t believe in ghosts but had been comfortable with a ghost-concept as a religious metaphor. A ghost-concept was intangible. It did not howl.

  “Silence!” Oziru’s voice throbbed like a thunderclap. Gaia froze. The attendants stopped chanting. Kenjan stopped shouting.

  Wave still mumbled to itself.

  “Kenjan.” Oziru’s voice was barely audible now. “This human is your guardian now. Take her blood and accept your mortality.” Oziru held out the vial. Kenjan downed it like a shot of whiskey and hurled the vial at Seigata.