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When on Earth
part 1
by Feech
I grip the metal rail of the great, white
boat and look down. Frothy whiteness and speed
confuse my vision of the dark water from here, so
I again move my gaze to the ocean that spreads far
and wide around my transportation.
Many others ride this ship with me, and
though I do not know many of them, one is my
companion and will stay with me all the way to
America.
Lani stands next to me, and I can hear her
long, black hair move in the wind. Her presence
makes me calm on this voyage; I would not know
what to expect otherwise. I have been on a boat
before, but only for a short time, and I have
never been to _America_.
It is their "turn" with me. I know that
sounds thoughtless, as though the scientists and
doctors are just using me for their own
curiosity's sake, but I am not treated badly.
They are compensating me for the time and the
tests and the travel. I do not know where else I
would go, anyway. I do not know who I am.
Oh, I know who I am _now_. In Australia they
named me officially, because I needed records and
passports and things. I remember everything from
the time I walked over the grasslands to a ranch
in Tasmania, and was given a first name by the
lone man there because I could not remember my
own. So now I am Hannah Merle, but you can call
me Anne.
Anne was the only way I felt comfortable
pronouncing my name at first, before I was more
skilled at controlling my voice. I still have a
sort of whispery voice, and am working on it.
Lani has a beautiful voice, and helps me to
practice. I may not see her again after we get to
Hawaii and the mainland beyond, but in all the
ships and cabins so far on this trip she has been
near, and helped me. I will have someone to meet
me, and a short trip on a plane. I don't know
what that will be like, except that the doctors
were worried about it. I am making most of the
journey on ships because they were concerned about
my being claustrophobic, maybe unpredictable. So
I hope I can conduct myself well on the plane.
Lani stays on the west coast of the United States,
and I go to the east coast. I am going to
college.
The university in question wanted to study
me, same as the institutions in Australia, but the
Australian scientists kept me in their care for
two years. I have been learning to use my body
and behave in society and take intelligence tests,
until I am now ready to continue my education
elsewhere, and the scientists are satisfied with
their study of my body. Now the Americans at the
University of Egypt, Massachusetts, have decided
on a plan of compensation so that Australia will
trust me to them and I will be well provided for.
I guess the school is some kind of private
institution, but quite prestigious, as the doctors
tell me, and with an excellent record in the study
of marsupial creatures from Australia and
Tasmania. So there I go.
I watch for sea creatures from the deck of
the ship. I have no fear of falling, although the
rails seem skimpy and my paw-hands are all that
keep me balancing when the water builds up
suddenly under the boat and flings us down and
forward. Others seem to be less fascinated, but I
can understand that. I have, the scientists are
guessing, eighteen empty years to catch up on and
I am trying my best to attend to every detail.
Although sometimes I would rather be in a cabin
alone, where no one can bother me. When I start
coughing instead of speaking coherently, Lani
knows I am on the edge of getting _too_ nervous
and she takes me where I can avoid everybody. On
the deck I am usually okay. In the dining rooms
and such, though, I never know ahead of time when
someone is going to bump into or brush against me.
All the smells and sounds are in the same place
and it's almost impossible to predict. I can
stand it pleasantly for about an hour before I
need a break.
I hope to get better with time.
The college will be paying for my room and
board, and as I am a human being with rights,
although we do not know _what_ human being, they
are adding free courses in my chosen field for the
years I am studied there. They hope that in this
way they will be shown to be generous and caring,
even though they are getting something out of it.
Of course, I had no idea what I wanted to study.
First I said, to the Australian doctors, when they
told me where I was going, that I thought I would
study the Tasmanian wolves. They were very nice
about telling me that there are no courses for
that sort of thing, even though the university I
will be attending specializes in marsupial
biology. I knew why I was going, but I had not
been aware that no one studied my species
especially. After all, I had heard that they
studied long-extinct species like the brontosaurus
and other dinosaurs, and I thought there might be
a marsupial class like that. But it seems there
isn't.
They took me into a room that smelled overly
clean, and showed me a seat where I was to "get
comfortable". Only they forgot my semi-rigid
tail, and there was no gap in the back of the
chair. I didn't say anything, still being very
shy, even though I had been having treatments and
therapy to try to awaken my memory. A search had
been made for my family, including a tracking of
all people who had entered Tasmania through
airlines and travel companies, but so far there
had been nothing. I was an unknown. They decided
to proceed with satisfying their own desires in
regards to me.
For all the scientists knew, I could have
been an old man or something, or a woman, living
alone in the wilderness until lost from my own
home when my memory was erased. I have SCABS.
That is really all they know about me as an
individual. I could have been young, old, or in
the middle, but I am now eighteen-year-old Hannah
and as a Thylacine they know a _lot_ about me.
On that day that they began to deal with me
in this new way, the doctors wanted to explain
that museums and research facilities would pay to
keep me housed and fed and educated, as if they
were my family, provided they could have the
chance of studying the Thylacine. The marsupial
wolf.
I did not mention the unsuitability of the
chair, but sat sideways on the floor in front of
it.
"Are you comfortable, Hannah?" a woman
doctor asked.
"Anne," I corrected her quietly, and she
nodded.
"Anne, if you like. Are you comfortable? We
would like to explain some things to you."
I nodded. "'kay." I wanted to tell her to
get me a new chair, and to ask her whether this
meant they would search no more for my past, and
to explain that I liked the name Hannah fine but
was still not able to say it well, so wanted
others to do it my way. But at the time I was
still a very bad talker so I stayed silent.
The other doctors, four in all, entered the
room in their white clothes and rainbow nametags,
and fiddled with the controls on a television that
had a black video disc player attached. One man
patted me on the head, and I looked up, but he was
already looking at something on his clipboard and
did not see my reaction. I felt a little odd.
Scientists, I found, are not like teachers. The
machinery and the notepads matter more than the
person. But they will still pat you and speak
nicely to you. They just quickly forget they have
done so.
"Now, Anne," said someone, I think the one
with the odd-smelling hairspray, whose name I
forget now even though I learned them all... I can
only beg excuse due to my confusion and the
newness of their approach. They were going to use
me, I could tell, but I did not think it would be
unpleasant. They seemed sincere. "We have some
things to show you, since you are in our care and
it seems that no relatives of yours can yet be
found."
The scientists did not have the accents of my
teachers and the man who found me. I have learned
that they come from many countries, and that I may
expect the institutions in America to be the same
way. The accents all overlap once they are in
white coats, it seems. Though Lani says it is not
always that way. She has been to several
countries, so I guess she knows. But there is so
much catching up to do!
"This video," one of the men explained, "will
show you a little about the kinds of studies we
might do. We have also included a movie of the
last marsupial wolf kept in captivity, so you may
get a better idea of the way your species looked
in the wild. We want to keep you informed of any
details we think are significant. This could be
very important to us, and to you, as this is a
one-of-a-kind opportunity for study of an extinct
species. You _are_ part human, and many of the
Thylacine characteristics will no doubt be
affected by this, but nevertheless we feel from
records provided by museums that you have enough
physical characteristics of the species to perhaps
lead to a better understanding of their past
existence and, in the future, to a development of
a man-made replacement species, as has been
considered in recent years. Do you follow me so
far?"
"Extinct?" I asked quietly.
"Yes, Anne. Extinct. As in no longer living
as a species. Are you familiar with the term?"
"... extinct?"
"The Thylacine is an _extinct_ species. For
this reason, we wish to study you to learn more
about them. The animals themselves are no longer
available. They have all been dead for some time.
All right? Now if you'll watch this video, it
should explain--"
I sat, not breathing, for a moment as a
white-clad person touched the "Play" button.
Then, before the disc could start, I interrupted
them: "All the marsupial wolves? They're not
dead. _I'm_ a wolf. Right? Didn't you say..."
My voice was not exactly right but I _needed_ to
clarify. Something was hurting me and I began to
feel afraid, although of what I cannot say.
"You are a SCABS Thylacine, or marsupial
wolf, or Tasmanian wolf," a doctor said, mostly
patiently. "It is important to understand that,
although you cannot remember your past, you were
human until the Martian Flu affected you. SCABS
is capable, for reasons we do not understand, of
changing a person until that person has some or
all of the characteristics of another species,
even a species that is extinct. You would not
necessarily have had to come into contact with a
Thylacine in order to be one."
"I know," I said slowly, "but why do you say
they have all died? When did they die? Where did
they go?"
The scientists sighed, collectively. They
thought I had progressed past such elementary
questions, I know that now. But I could not make
them understand what I felt. I still don't know,
myself. All I know is that I was upset and it did
not make sense to them.
"Anne," they explained, "the marsupial wolf
died out over a hundred years ago. We have here a
movie of the last one kept in captivity. Ready to
watch?"
Two sets of hands moved for the video
controls but I interrupted again. "A hundred
years ago? A century?"
"Yes, that's right."
"But that's-- impossible." I knew, somehow,
that that was impossible. I ached. I have ached
since then. Forgive me... I cannot explain it.
"I came here a few _months_ ago. When did they
all die? Not a _century_--" my voice gave way to
quiet, nervous cough-barking and I knew I was
beaten. Beaten by my own inability to understand
and articulate. Yet. I still want to learn. I
wanted to, then. And I knew these people had my
best interests at the center of their actions.
Still... Something was wrong. Something _is_
wrong.
The researchers waited a moment for me to
calm down, then without further conversation they
began the presentation. I was supposed to watch
so I would understand the things they wanted to
do, so I would know whether I agreed or not. But
I decided I trusted them, and looked at the screen
without giving the decision much effort.
Then the Thylacine came on.
The movie had been made a century ago, they
said. It was in tones of black and white and
little harsh squiggles dragged my eyes this way
and that while I focused. The wolf circled
anxiously in a grey cage and his stripes were
black and his eyes sharp and smaller than mine,
and I threw myself at the television. I did not
speak, but held my face to the screen for the few
moments that the creature could be seen. The
doctors did not try to take me away, and I settled
back anyway when the movie switched to something
about research facilities.
"Sorry," I rasped, quietly.
"Are you all right?"
"Extinct," I replied, and looked up at my
benefactors. They seemed to notice something
about me that disturbed them. Their smells
changed to those of reluctance and compassion.
"Are you sure you want to be involved in
this? There are institutions where you could
stay."
"No, educate me, please." I could not think
where else I would go. And their scents were
honest.
"We will continue the disc, then."
I nodded. I tried to pay attention. But I
kept seeing other things, not before my eyes.
Memories? They could not be. But sometimes I
still have them, still see them, especially at
night, in my dreams. They are black-and-white
like the long-dead captive wolf. They are like
nothing I have seen since emerging on the
outskirts of that man's ranch. If I am imagining
them, I do not know what to call them. If the
visions are real, they must be happenings I have
experienced. But that makes no sense. I see in
color.
I looked down at the fawn hairs on my
paw-hands, comparing to the aching vision of the
filmed Thylacine. I knew my eyes were large and
dark and liquid, and I knew that under my clothes
my stripes were as a Thylacine's, halfway down my
back and over the rear of my legs, although I walk
upright like a girl. And I turned my slightly
rounded, oddly wolfish ears to the television
speaker and listened. But shadows and sounds from
somewhere else in my mind kept interfering.
The ocean wind can ruffle even my short,
coarse, fawn-colored coat when it blows roughly
enough. Lani stands next to me and laughs
pleasantly, noting my eager nostrils and straining
ears as I scan the vast water for signs of life.
"Anne," says the tall, dark-skinned
biologist, "what are you looking for? Are you
like a mermaid? Do you belong to the sea, and are
looking for the merman who will rescue you? You
are so dramatic."
"I am looking for whales," I say.
"Well, I must say I agree with your
interests. Do let me know if you see one."
I nod. I know what it is I want to study, at
the University of Egypt, Massachusetts. If
anything can live in these enormous blue and black
spanses, I want to know it and see it. That is so
much better than politics, or psychology or those
other societal things I have to keep my mind on
all the time. I am trying, I want to try, but I
would rather keep a lookout for whales. Or
seabirds. I have seen a few creatures, such as a
school of large fish that flashed their sapphire
sides and leapt near the boat, swimming with us
for a time. I want to see more. I wish I could
speak their language, as well. Seems I should be
able to do that, with all the work I have put into
English. And I am doing all right.
I turn to see a mother and her small child
walking on the deck, in my direction. I know they
are intending to continue on by me, so I keep my
long, brown tail out of the way and press my torso
against the rails. Lani glances at me, just to
see that I am conducting myself properly. I give
her a little grin, knowing not to open my mouth to
its full gape around sensitive public. I just
wrinkle my lip. She smirks happily at me.
The child is passing, his small hand held by
his mother's, and as he looks up at me he says,
"Mommy! Hello, Doggy!"
I smile at him, too, but a sudden scent of
mistrust wafts from his mother and she hurries his
little body along. "I don't think that's a doggy,
Honey," she murmurs, shooting me one glance of
what might be a sort of pity.
I am not a "doggy". I look over at Lani.
"Anne?"
"What do I look like to you?"
She shades her eyes and takes a careful look.
She has done this many times, of course, but this
time I asked her to. "Anne, to me you look very
pretty. It is a shame that you can't show your
stripes. Your tail is very smooth and stiff-- I
think that is what confuses people."
"No," I say. I have figured this out. When
looking at my tail, people wonder, but they do not
look away. "It is my face. I have never been
seen. I make no sense. I am nothing but a wolf,
and a wolf who is not quite right for a wolf looks
_wrong_. I know. I have been thinking about it."
"Maybe a few uneducated people have mistaken
you for a Dingo, and then thought you didn't look
right, but you are a beautiful Thylacine, Hannah
Merle."
"Well." I don't know what to think. The
ocean distracts me from visions I am not sure I am
even supposed to have, and so I soak its color in
through my large eyes. I am silent.
"Anne? You..."
I turn towards my companion again. I wait to
see what she will do or say, but as the
researchers in the lab when I was shown the film,
Lani does not continue. Instead, she gazes at me
sadly.
I watch her eyes and she watches mine. Hers
are black and small, but I begin to sense my
reflection in them. Her gaze becomes deeper, and
more and more sorrowful.
I wonder... Where that sorrow comes from.
The ache inside me must be kept away, for I
am a person I do not remember, and I must do
right. I break the gaze we share and look
desperately out over the moving water again.
The ship travels on, and I know its course
from globes and maps I have been shown. I can see
the point made on the page in the atlas, where I
will be going to school. I do wonder what they
will learn about Thylacines from me.
I think I hear a cry, high and short,
calling, eager, but as I prick my ears to the
ocean, the only place from where it seems it could
have come, I hear...
Nothing.