Earthbound by DM Arnold (read book .TXT) 📕

“Jade?”

“Yes. It hangs on a cord. Ojiisan said our family should have a tradition where the crest goes to the parents of the next generation's first- born. He made this pin for my mother.”

Nyk turned the pin over and saw an inscription: To YK From TK 5/6/67. “YK is your mother?”

“Yes, and TK was my grandfather.” She pointed. “That's my parents' wedding date. Ojiisan gave this to Mom at the wedding.”

“How did you get this? Did you inherit it?”

“Oh, Lord no -- Mom's very much alive and kicking. She gave it to me when I was a kid -- after Ojiisan died, of course.”

“She doesn't care to wear your family emblem?”

“It's not an emblem -- just an old man's foolish notion. Mom thinks this whole crest business is rather silly.”

“I don't,” he replied and returned the pin to her.

“You would've gotten along with Ojiisan.” She began to fasten it to her blouse. “Well, I like it because it's pretty and different.”

“Thank you, Suki. I'm sorry I bothered you and I won't bother you again.” He started out the door.

“Oh, Nick -- wait. I'll be at the union at 11:45 for lunch, if you'd care to join me.”

Nyk entered the union and saw Suki waving to catch his attention. He brought his tray over. On hers was a tuna salad sandwich. She pointed to his. “Are you a vegetarian?”

He scooped a spoonful of tomato soup. “Yes, I am.”

“You should try some Indian food. The union has a token vegetarian dish, but it's awful. Once you've tried Indian vegetarian, you'll never go back to this stuff.”

“I remember some of what I wanted to ask you. What's tatami?”

“They're woven reed mats, a traditional floor covering in a Japanese home. My parents have them at the house in Queens.”

“What about kimono?”

“That's a garment, a sort of lightweight robe. My mother wears a kimono now and then. My parents gave me one to commemorate receiving my PhD.”

“I'd love to see you in it.”

“It's at the house in New York,” she replied.

“What's a samurai?”

“A warrior from the feudal times. Why are you interested in Japanese things?”

“I was reading and came across these terms. I'm so happy to have met a Japanese, Suki.”

“I told you, I'm an American.” She smiled. “My mother's Japanese ... to the core. I'm not too fond of that culture.”

“I have another question, Suki.” She glanced up at him. “Would you agree to meet for lunch on a regular basis? It's convenient for me, the lab's only a short walk.”

She looked into his eyes. “Okay, Nick. I'd like that. We strangers must stick together.” He walked with her to drop off his tray and headed his separate way.

Nyk carried his laptop computer home, set it on the kitchen table and placed a vidphone call to Senta. The initiation indicator flashed ... and flashed.

He reached to cancel the call, and then Senta's image appeared. Her hair was wet and dripping and she had a towel wrapped around her.

“Oh, it's you.” She removed the towel and began using it to dry her hair.

“Hello korlyta. I'm sorry to call at a bad moment. The time conversion is very confusing. The most remarkable thing happened. I met a woman named Sukiko Kyhana. I think she might be a relative.”

“It sounds like a coincidence to me.”

“She's Japanese. I've shown you the photoimage of Koichi. She looks like him.”

“She must be a very homely woman.”

“That's not what I meant. She has Koichi's features -- the black hair, the yellow-brown complexion and the eyes. She also has a pin with our family crest. She said her grandfather designed it.”

“You mean this?” Senta pointed to the crest tattooed onto her arm.

“Yes, that. She said the three symbols spell the name Kyhana. Ky-Ha-Na. I'm curious to know how closely we're related.”

Senta flipped her hair from the towel. “If you'd like to know for sure, try to get a DNA sample. You can send it in a stasis capsule along with your cultures. I'd be glad to sequence it for you and we can look for common genetic markers.”

“Senta, there must be over two hundred generations separating her from me. How good of a match can you expect, especially given the interbreeding in the early years?”

“We can go into the sequencing archives. They must go back at least fifty generations. Let me check.” Nyk's vidphone screen went blank as Senta suspended the session. He saw her image reappear. “Yes, we can easily lop off one hundred generations using these records, maybe more. The Kyhana records are remarkably well preserved. We have a sequence file on Gordo Kyhana, who lived about thirty-three hundred years ago. That'll get us closer.”

“How do you suggest I obtain a sample?”

“Maybe you can collect a hair or two. You shouldn't have too much trouble engineering such an encounter. One with the root intact would be all we need -- so, if you do get hold of a sample, send it along. Now I must go to work.” Senta slipped into her tunic.

“I'll see you later, korlyta. ” Nyk said as the screen went blank.

Nyk placed his tray on a table in the union dining room. Suki slipped off her coat and sat across from him. “I look forward to lunch here with you,” he said.

“So do I. The past three weeks have flown by. When we sit and talk together, I feel almost like a normal human being.”

Nyk regarded her. “You don't appear to have any abnormalities.”

“No, my abnormalities are inside.”

“Do you suffer from some internal disorder?”

She giggled. “They're inside my head.”

“Oh... If you have troubles you'd like to talk about, I'd be happy to listen. Sometimes talking about a problem is the easiest way to make it go away.”

“That's sweet. Maybe, sometime. I'll warn you, Nick. You should be careful what you offer -- someone might take you up on it.” She placed her hand on his forearm. He gazed into her eyes and she slowly retracted her hand and looked down at her tray.

Nyk ate his chili in silence. He glanced up. “Suki?”

“Nick?” she said simultaneously. She smiled. “You go first.”

“Suki, would you agree prepare an Indian meal for me? You said it was no fun making it for yourself, and it sounds like something I'd like to try.”

She looked past him for a moment. “Okay, how about Saturday night at six, my place. Do you know where the faculty apartments are?”

Nyk nodded. “Yes.”

“Building 3, apartment 2A. You don't have to bring anything.”

Nyk picked up a sample vial and some forceps from the lab, slipped them into his pocket and headed toward the faculty-housing complex. His route took him past the grocery and he walked in.

The place was old and had an air of not being quite clean. A faint, sour smell of something rotten permeated the place and Nyk was repelled by it. He noticed a bucket with fresh flowers and bought a bouquet.

Sensing a mix of eagerness and apprehension, he approached her building. Outside the door was an array of buttons. He pressed the one beneath a label reading “S Kyhana.” A buzz and a click came from the door latch. He entered, walked up the stairs and saw Suki waiting at her apartment door. “Howdy stranger -- come on in.”

Her apartment was small and warm. Nyk looked around and saw a pair of watercolors of nude female torsos on the wall. The place was sparsely furnished with institutional furniture. The living room sofa and chairs were pushed to the walls and a cloth and some cushions lay in the middle of the living room floor. Eerie music came from somewhere.

A mixture of strong scents filled the air. Suki was barefoot and wearing a tank top and a pair of running shorts. Nyk regarded her from head to toe.

“Should I remove my shoes?” he asked.

“No need,” she replied. “I'm sorry about the heat. They can't seem to do anything about it.”

“This feels fine to me. It reminds me of home.”

“Home?”

“I come from a warm climate.”

He presented the flowers to her and she regarded them. “I hope you don't have any ideas about starting a relationship.”

“The flowers are a gift. I cannot accept hospitality without bringing a gift.”

Suki blushed. “I'm so sorry, Nick. It's my defenses again, please forgive me. Thank you, they're lovely.” She found a jar to serve as a vase and set them on the counter. She nodded toward the living room. “I've prepared a northern Indian dinner. We're going to enjoy this meal Indian-style. Indians take their meals on the floor and they eat with their hands. If you'd like to wash first, the bathroom's over there.”

While using the sink he noticed a hairbrush on the vanity. With his forceps he extracted four jet-black hairs clinging to the bristles and put them into the vial. He replaced the brush and slipped the sample into his pocket. Nyk returned to her living room.

Suki brought out two battered looking dinner plates, on which were some glass custard cups containing the various entrees. “This is thali-style service,” she said, “... typical for north India. I don't have a real thali, so I had to improvise, but you get the idea.”

She placed the plates on the cloth, brought out a bowl mounded with yellow rice and another plate with some flat bread. Then, she assumed the lotus position. Nyk sat and attempted to cross his legs.

“You don't have to sit like this if it's uncomfortable,” she said. “Use the cushions. This position is natural for me, because I meditate -- or I used to. Lately my head's been so full of crap... I can't empty myself of thoughts, so I find myself meditating on how miserable I am and end up feeling worse than when I began.” She pointed to the custard cups and identified the various entrees, the bread and saffron rice. “I forgot to provide drinks. Would you like some beer? It goes well with Indian food.”

“No alcohol, please.”

She brought a pair of glasses filled with a ruby-red fizzy liquid. “This is an Indian soft drink.” She resumed her lotus posture. “Now I'll show you how Indians eat with their hands. The right hand is reserved for eating, the left is for hygiene.” She demonstrated the technique. “I believe part of the dining experience is eating the way the natives do. When I cook Chinese, we use chopsticks.”

Nyk started with a bit of dahl makhni mixed with rice. The flavors were such a far cry from the bland fare of his homeworld, even though the ingredients were familiar ones. The blend of spices exploded in his mouth. “This is so different from what I am accustomed.” he said.

“Are the spices too much for you? It's easy to be overwhelmed if you're not accustomed.”

“I'm doing just fine. Where do you find the ingredients for this?”

“We're fortunate to have an Indian spice shop within walking distance, just down the street from the university. There are a lot of Indians on the school faculty. Maybe you'd like to walk over there with me sometime.”

“I certainly would.”

Nyk helped Suki return the sofa and chairs to