The rainbow flame in the sky shone brightly just west of the star. He wondered what phenomenon this was as the light moved with the star, and it did no dancing nor flickering. This strange light seemed stationary in the sky—as still as the bright disk illuminating the planet’s surface where he stood—and it did not offer any messages via sound frequencies. It simply was, and that was both fascinating and puzzling to him. He shivered.

“Whatcha lookin’ at so hard, there?” a deep voice asked from behind him.

“Um, that…thing.” He pointed to the oddity above them.

“Oh, that’s a sundawg. Ain’t ya’ never seen a sundawg before? What’s yer name, son?”

“Uh,” he had to think quickly as not to appear suspicious, “Esk. My name is Esk.”

“Esk, huh? Boy, yer momma sure did a number on ya’ with a name like that. That short for somethin’?”

“Eskerektu.”

“Oowhee! Ain’t never heard such a name in my whole life. Say it agin’.”

A bit uncomfortably, Eskerektu rehearsed his name a second time for the stranger. Is it a betrayal of my true identity to say my name? Is this species dangerous? Eskerektu considered this as he turned the new sounds around in his oral cavity and spit them out.

“Whaddaya do for a livin’?” the biped asked.

“I, I am a linguist,” Esk stuttered. He was surprised at his prowess. He had arrived on the surface of this planet and begun listening to its inhabitants only hours before. The words sounded almost natural. Almost.

“Esk, the Linguist. That’s interestin’. What’s a linguist do, anyhow?”

“I learn things about languages—all types of languages.” Esk had to take care not to say too much here. His conversation must be discrete.

“So, you learn them African languages and Arabic languages and all them languages from over there across the Pond?”

“Excuse me. The ‘Pond’?” Esk asked, embarrassed that he had no idea what a pond was.

“Yeah. Atlantic Ocean. The Pond. Over across there is Europe and the Desert and all them other countries. Over yonder, ya’ might say,” said the man. “My name’s Samuel, but you can call me Sam if ya’ like.” He held out his hand in a curious manner, open-palmed and toward Esk’s midsection. Esk decided that it was a gesture of respect and imitated the motion, after which Sam grabbed Esk’s tendril base firmly and shook it up and down a few times. “Pleased ta’ meet’cha.”

Esk, somewhat shocked, resisted the impulse to pull his “hand” away and regarded the entire incident as an exchange of pathogenic material afterward. Surely the creature was not trying to infect me. Esk was not sure. Once back on the moon, he decontaminated himself according to protocol and again for good measure since he had made physical contact with a little-known lifeform. It never hurts to wash twice.

The Eskerektul Council wanted to know all about Esk’s experiences on the planet that they would come to know as Earth. There was no formal name for the planet yet. All they had was an alphanumeric code—one that the computer keyboard would translate into Ipsilon-Theta-2021 on the bright screen. It was a time and date stamp for the visitors. All of their operations happened inside the moon, and the moon was perfectly positioned—parked, really—in orbit so that the “humans” that they planted so long ago could live on this now-habitable rock in this particular solar system. The humans were branching out—or trying to—through their technologies, dreams, and aspirations. One of the fantasies they had was of interstellar travel. They were working from the wrong premise, though. None of the traveling race was going to correct their error, either, because Homo sapiens sapiens were not designed to withstand what interstellar travel would require of their bodies and minds.

The humans’ brains were fragile. That may sound odd coming from a race that must wear armor to have form, but it was true. Human minds were even more complex—they had a breaking point, that once crossed, most of the beings never recovered their previous function from. That was called trauma in their most common global language, which was referred to as English. Esk was learning in a hurry that there were infinite dialects of English on Earth and that many speakers were polyglots. The Council found this interesting and dispatched Esk on a mission to find out more about these mysterious organisms—the humans.

Esk decided to pick up where he left off with the man that he had already encountered on the planet and translated himself to the place where he had met him. Esk’s current look was that of a young adult male in his early 30’s, 5’10” tall, 164 pounds, with blond hair, blue eyes, a muscular physique, and fine-looking facial features. He had added some stubble after seeing the human’s face with whom he interacted with. He also changed his manner of dress to be square-toe cowboy boots, blue jeans, and a soiled white t-shirt underneath an unzipped name-brand tan chore jacket (also somewhat dirty). Esk seemed to fit right in here, wherever here was. He needed to find out.

“Ah, back agin’, huh? Yup, yer a stranger in these parts. I can tell,” said the only voice Esk recognized. “I’m not from ‘round these parts, neither. You need a lift somewhere’s? You got a ride?” Esk did not understand the question. “Awful cold out here for a fella like you with just a farm jacket on. I can take you to a motel or somethin’. You got money?”

“Money?” asked Esk.

“Evidently not.” Sam’s hand disappeared to the mid-forearm into his own jeans and produced a wad of greenish paper in his hand like a magic trick. Esk fumbled to see if he had his own magic holes in his jeans, and he did. When he thrust his hand in, though, he felt nothing and brought his hand back from the invisible void. “Just like I thought. No money in them pockets a’yers. Here. Take it.” Sam handed Esk half of the bundle of green paper “money” from his trick pocket. “That oughta get’cha a week at the local motel ‘til ya’ figure out where ya’ are and where yer goin’. Hop in. I’ll give ya’ a ride.” Sam seemed friendly enough. Esk was sure that he had his vices, but every being in the universe did, so he overlooked the potential wrongdoings—both past and future—of this benevolent spirit.

“What do you call this place?” Esk asked Sam once they were both in the rusted heap of motorized parts that required a great deal of cranking to start in the cold. Sam looked at Esk, confused.

“We’re in Fletcher, NoDak, U.S.A. You alright, buddy? You get hit in the head or somethin’? Dunno where ya’ are?”

“I was wondering what the name of this planet is.”

Sam, startled, pulled over and looked at Esk. “Yer jokin’, right? Yer pullin’ my leg.”

“No, I do not have ahold of your leg. I am certain of that,” Esk replied.

“Okay, kid. We’re on Planet Earth outside Fletcher, North Dakota, in the United States of America, on the North American Continent, an’ I dunno the latitude or longitude anymore. Been a while since I renewed my HAM license.”

“HAM license?” Esk asked.

“Never you mind. It’s complicated, an’ it seems like you need a good cup o’coffee to straighten yer head out some, so let’s go get one, okay?” Sam’s features took on a worried look as he pulled back onto the paved path for his land vehicle. After a short period of time had passed, Sam looked at Esk. “You simple, Esk?” he asked.

“Simple? No. I am quite complex,” Esk said with confidence, yet with a hint of humility.

“Okay. Just wonderin’. I don’t mind simple, but I need ta’ know if ya’ are, so I can help ya’ better, ya’ know?” Esk pretended that he did and nodded as he had seen other humans do in affirmation to a question. “Okay. Good. You not bein’ simple makes things a whole lot easier.” Sam let out a heavy breath and appeared relieved after this deep exhalation. Esk was mentally noting such nonverbal communications.

A half burned-out string of Christmas lights framed the picture window. Why it was still glowing, Esk could not surmise. He felt drawn to the remaining lights that were aglow, wishing to touch one of them. He was not at all sure that it would not kill him outright, however, and restrained himself.

“Lookin’ at them pretty lights doin’ ya’ any good, there, Esk?” Sam asked.

“Um. Yes. May I touch one?”

“Well, a’course! Have at it! Sorry ‘bout half of ‘em bein’ burnt out. Dunno what happened there. The whole string worked this mornin’.”

Esk reached out with a tendril, which the humans called “fingers,” to make contact with this light source. To his surprise, it was neither hot nor cold, but instead room temperature. Esk took hold of the blue light bulb, then the orange, and then the red, the green, and the pink—all of the bulbs that were still producing light hummed in Esk’s acoustic membranes. They were delightful sounds.

“I ain’t never seen nobody so fascinated with Christmas lights, Esk. You must’a had a hard life, huh?” Sam asked, stoking the fireplace to warm the small cabin. The flame interested Esk as well, but he could feel the heat coming from the woodstove and dared not go near it. “I reckon it’ll be warm in here in no time, now. Don’t you worry none. That fire’ll burn all evenin’, Esk. Ya’ warm enough?”

Esk had not considered his body temperature in the environment in which he found himself. He was shivering again. Esk moved closer to the fireplace and stood next to it, experiencing a pleasant heat growing within himself. “This is kind of you, Sam. Thank you.”

“Ain’t no problem. Glad I thought up bringin’ ya’ here instead of havin’ ya’ lost and confused at some local motel without any place t’go,” Sam said.

“Would you like your money back?” Esk asked, remembering that Sam had given him the greenish rectangular bills that possessed an odd olfactory property. The tickets did not satisfy Esk in a gustatory sense, either. More pathogens and odd substances. I hope I do not become ill.

“Naw. You keep that. No tellin’ what yer gonna run into along the way that ya’ might need it for.”

Esk wondered where Sam was from—he said earlier that he was not from around here, either. Do I dare ask? No, not yet. Esk drifted toward a puffy-looking, animal-skin-covered seat.

“Sit down and rest yerself, Esk. Been a long day. Has fer me, at least.” Sam had his legs and feet propped up on an extension that was braced beneath the bottom of his own puffy, animal-skin seat. “It’s just a recliner. Go ‘head. Sit in it. You’ll like it. It’s comfy. Heck, ya’ might fall right asleep in it if ya’ try.”

Esk eased himself down onto the seat and questioned when he would stop sinking into it, fearing it would eat him whole. His backside touched a more solid spot in the bottom of the seat, and he ceased being devoured by the recliner. He decided that it was indeed comfortable, and before he knew it, he fell into temporary stasis, watching the flames split and listening to the crackle of the firewood with his legs resting on the lever-driven extension.

Featured image by Chouaib Saoud via Pixabay