The There and Now
Time is Impervious to Distance

 Even though
many billion
  lightyears away
We still share
  the same now

 The planet Z-235A, sister planet to Z-235B, is situated near enough twenty-six and two-thirds billion lightyears from our planet Earth.

No one on Z-235A has ever seen Earth, much less an earthling. No one in its galaxy has ever seen Earth, or its galaxy for that matter.

No one on Earth has ever seen Z-235A, much less a Z-235A-ling. No one in our galaxy has ever seen Z-235A, or its galaxy for that matter.

Too far away by a generous helping.

Z-235A-lings are very intelligent. Seeing one, though, this would not be the knee-jerk conclusion for as a rule Z-235A-lings look more like what we call stonefish than anything else. Larger than, but nonetheless. Quite a bit larger than, but nonetheless. Though they were not fishes. There are no fishes on Z-235A. There is no water on Z-235A to be fishes in. Life on Z-235A (and B for that matter) does not require water.

Were you to line up, say, ten Z-235A-lings side by side (and this is not an unusual configuration, as it happens, for they like parading and such and love forming lines) you, as earthling, would be extremely hard-pressed to tell one of them apart from the next. Viewed by a Z-235A-ling, however, one in this line would be as different from the next as you would from a horse. This one was old, obviously, old and decrepit, the next one was young and oh, so gloriously beautiful, the next one a rabble-rouser if one had ever been seen, and so on.

It does indeed take one to know one.

As James Huddel, of Sacramento, California, prepared his normal breakfast of half a grapefruit and some toast with butter and jam (this alongside some very strong coffee), Xrtszju (don’t ask me how to pronounce this) a mid-level manager on Z-235A was preparing his normal breakfast of fourteen snail-looking vegetables (vegetables on Z-235A were more alive and more intelligent their earthly snail counterpart) and some sand (well, not sand as we know sand, but sand as Xrtszju knows sand, a Z-235A morning delicacy—their sand never tasted good in the afternoon), this over the normal objections of the snail-looking veggies that resented being eaten, especially this early in the day.

This is when our normally dependable space-time continuum blew a fuse. As Xrtszju told his veggies to quit wiggling, James Huddel replied, “I’m not wiggling.” Voice-replied, or thought-replied he’s not sure.

“What?,” said Xrtszju.

“I am not wiggling.”

“Who are you?” said Xrtszju.

“Who are you?” said Huddel. “And what are you doing in my head?”

“What’s a head?” said Xrtszju—in Huddel’s head.

James Huddel reached for his coffee and took a large and much too hot sip which burned both lips and tongue. “Ouch,” said Huddel.

“Is that your name?” said Xrtszju.

“Is what my what”?

“Is Ouch your name?”

“How could it possibly be?” said Huddel.

“Mine is Xrtszju,” said Xrtszju.

“That’s your name?” said Huddel. He tried to think-pronounce it but failed utterly. Human tongues (or brains, apparently) are nowhere near adaptable to X-235A names.

“No,” said Xrtszju. “It’s Xrtszju.”

At this point, James Huddel decided that he had probably had too much to drink the night before, as well as too much to drink over the last month, if not over the last year. Pink elephants rising; along with rainbow snakes. Seeing things. Hearing things. In-the-head things.

He poured himself some water to appease lips and tongue who still stung from too much too hot coffee.

Xrtszju said: “You are not an X-235A-ling, are you?”

“What’s an X-235A-ling?” said Huddel.

“Someone who lives on my planet.”

“Your planet?”

“Yes, my planet. What is your planet called?”

“Are you for real?” said Huddel.

“Very much so,” to Huddel, “I told you to stop wiggling,” to his breakfast.

“I am not wiggling,” said Huddel.

“No, not you. Not talking to you about wiggling. Talking to them about wiggling.”

“Who are they?”

“These veggies.”

“Talking vegetables.”

“Sure.”

“What are you doing in my head?” Huddel asked again.

“Where else would I be?” said Xrtszju. “We’re talking, aren’t we?”

Huddel sat down and dared another large sip of coffee. More carefully this time. Ahh, that’s better. “You are the strangest imaginary figment I have ever come across,” he said.

“Not a figment,” said Xrtszju. “Not imaginary. This is not how you talk where you’re from?”

“We talk with our mouths.”

“We eat with ours.”

“We eat with ours as well.”

“Your mouths multitask?”

“Most of the time.”

“How odd you are. But interesting.”

“So,” said Huddel. “You maintain that you actually exist, somewhere.”

“Yes,” said Xrtszju. “Very much so, here on X-235A.”

“And X-235A is where, precisely?”

“Next door to X-235B,” said Xrtszju.

“That’s helpful,” said Huddel.

Sarcasm has never been heard of and hence never practiced on X-235A so Xrtszju said, “Thank you.” Then asked, again, “So, what planet do you live on?”

“This here planet,” said Huddel, “is called Earth.”

“Never heard of it,” said Xrtszju.

“Well, I’ve never heard of X-235A,” said Huddel, “so I guess this makes us even.”

“Even what?”

“Equally ignorant,” said Huddel.

“Sorry to hear that,” said Xrtszju.

Meanwhile, the time-space continuum engineers were working fervently at locating and isolating the blown fuse so they could replace it and restore normalcy to the universe. There was a lot of confusion at Universe HQ since fuses were not supposed to blow, ever, had in fact never as far as anyone could remember blown, and now while half the engineering force was working on isolating the culprit the other half was rummaging through mountains of spare parts for a replacement fuse. Neither 50% successful as yet, which kept the certainly abnormal communication channel between Xrtszju and Huddle up and working just fine.

“Why?” said Huddel.

“Why, what?”

“Why are you sorry to hear, and what are you sorry to hear?”

“I’m not ignorant if that’s what you’re saying, but I’m sorry if you are, or think you are. You really shouldn’t put yourself down like that.”

“I’m not ignorant either.”

“So why did you say we’re equally ignorant?”

Huddel shook his head, “Forget it.”

“Wish I could, but I have an excellent memory. Best in my city, best in my company. My boss comments on it all the time.”

“I didn’t mean that we were ignorant as such, just that neither of us knows where the other lives.”

“Ah, I see,” said Xrtszju. And saw.

The first engineer-hero of the day was called Heretofore. He was the one who finally isolated the blown fuse. The second engineer-hero of the day was called Onceinabluemoon, for he had found a replacement. Together they pulled the dud fuse out and plugged in the replacement one. And that was, as they say, that as far as Huddel and Xrtszju chatting went.

“Hello, hello,” said Xrtszju.

“Hello, hello,” said Huddel.

“Can you hear me?” said Xrtszju.

“Can you hear me?” said Huddel.

“Who are you talking to?” said Xrtszju’s wife, who just then slid into their kitchen from feeding the local monsters.

“Some guy somewhere,” said Xrtszju.

“That veggie is getting away,” said Xrtszju’s wife, nodding her stonefish self in the escapee’s direction.

Huddel promised himself to cut back on the booze.

::

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