by Paul Cesarini
“Ummm, I don’t think you’re supposed to move,” Rodriguez said, peering down at him. Shredded exhibit maps drifted lazily through the air behind him, fluttering like confetti. A faint pink mist hung for a moment, almost luminous, before quickly dissolving. Other museum staff and a few tourists gathered around Rodriguez, also peering down, craning for a better look. Their expressions blurred together, somewhere between genuine concern and morbid fascination, all immediately followed by averting their eyes.
“Really? Why not?” replied Nohr, staring up at the vaulted ceiling of the museum. He felt the cold, marble floor pressing against the tip of his headcrest. “I feel fine. Well, maybe not ‘fine,’ but certainly functional, I think. I should be good enough to get up.” He looked up at Rodriguez’ tall, wiry form, his impeccably clean uniform, and his ‘Assistant Curator – Thermodynamic Artifacts’ badge, then glanced around as more staff trickled over, all peering a little too closely at him.
“We called for a medivac,” said Rodriguez, gesturing behind him with one of his bright green fingers. “They should be here soon, I would expect.”
“A medivac? Why would I need a medivac?” asked Nohr, dazed.
“Well, your arms are all funny.”
“Funny how?” asked Nohr, glancing over at each of his four arms.
“Are they supposed to be at angles like that? I mean, that thing hit you pretty hard. She phased right through you, but it was like you momentarily absorbed her before she came out the other side and left.”
Nohr thought about it, then realized he couldn’t remember how he came to be on the floor of Exhibit Hall 3, how Rodriguez came to be kneeling over him, or why his arms were, in fact, at funny angles. He tried moving his left arms. Both seemed fine. He then examined his left hands. Both were still the pastiest shade of blue, and both still had all six fingers. No issues there.
His right arms were a different story. He could barely move them. One of them appeared to have at least one too many bends to it, and the fingers on both his right hands were splayed about like a tray of pickled Fren – and not the good kind of Fren, either.
Nohr thought about screaming, panicking, and generally making as huge a scene as possible, but didn’t want to cause alarm among the numerous museum-goers. They had at least four maglev shuttles of school children visiting today, mostly from the Eastern sector of the moon the museum was located on, which was rare. He knew those school districts couldn’t afford field trips like this as often as more affluent ones could. He was supposed to personally guide the next group. This was a special day for those kids. They had travelled far on the express flyway to be here, to see all that the Museum of Indigenous Technology had to offer. They likely came for those new exhibits on the 3rd Crittig Dynasty, the one with all the cool holos and interactive cultural databases.
Kids still love databases, don’t they?, he wondered, remembering his own fondness for them back when he was a podling. Back then, he’d spend countless cycles pouring over 4D repositories and holographic archives, completely losing track of time until some classmate inevitably came up behind him and yanked his underwear above his ears. He doubted bullies were even a thing anymore, though, and focused on those new exhibits. Nohr wasn’t about to let his own discomfort get in the way of those kids enjoying them.
And yet, his arms. And his fingers. And his memory. Come to think of it, his head, too. And his left ankle. But, he definitely wasn’t in pain. In fact, he actually felt himself straining to suppress a rather large grin. Why was that?, he wondered.
He felt quite good. Really, really quite good. It was a strange kind of good, though. It wasn’t the ‘pride in a job well done’ good, or the ‘my, what a wonderful meal of sautéed dilgar noodles’ good, or ‘that really was a delicious latte methanata’ good, or even the ‘my cephalopod boss is out of the office for the next three days and I am taking an extended nap’ good. It was really more of a… post-coital good?
Assuming he interpreted this feeling correctly, this was of course strange. It had been some time since he and Kivv had last copulated. Yet, here he was, clearly remembering that and thinking about her. Apparently. He assumed he had been thinking about her. Who else could he have been thinking about, in that way?
“So, ah… can you do that ‘snap back’ thing, with your limbs?” asked Rodriguez, making wavy motions with his own arms. “You know, when you shake the breaks out? I’ve seen your species do that before, like that time Estanassi got caught between those autolifters. Try it with one of your right arms first.” More museum staff crowded around, including the Bicephar from the gift shop. Both its heads looked down at Nohr, alarmed, then quickly looked away and exchanged nervous glances.
“I can try,” said Nohr, still lying prone on the exhibit hall floor. “I haven’t really needed to do this since university.” He exhaled deeply, braced his shoulders against the cool marble, and concentrated. He thought about Kivv, and how beautiful she looked when the suns reflected off her teal, striped skin, and how wonderfully sharp her teeth were. He thought about her laugh, and her brilliance as Assistant Curator for Special Collections. He thought about her seemingly inexhaustible patience with him. Then he gave his right side a hard, staccato shake. A visible ripple ran down the length of his upper right arm, accompanied with a rubbery thwip sound that echoed through the hall. Encouraged, he committed fully – whipping both right arms outward in a sharp, cracking motion like unfurling banners off a balcony.
A series of rapid pops followed as each joint realigned in quick succession. The extra bends vanished, though his arms still felt quite tender. His fingers, previously splayed noodle-like in grotesque disarray, snapped back into formation like little soldiers. Nohr flexed them tentatively, then wiggled all twelve digits with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Yes,” he said, relieved. “Yes. That’s… mostly better, I think, though I’ll probably skip my next rumbleball lesson.”
“Agreed. So, ah, I guess that takes care of your arms, and your fingers,” said Rodriguez, glancing over at Xia, who just arrived and exchanged that same worried look with him. “Maybe there’s a similar remedy for your, ah… other problem? You know?” he asked, motioning down with his eyes nervously, trying not to make any more of a scene than there already was. Xia did the same.
“Other problem? What other problem?” Nohr followed their gaze and looked down at his waist. It was then, and only then, that he noticed he was flying at full mast, so to speak. Really, really full mast. In front of an increasingly large crowd.
All staring at him.
And his flagpole.
At full mast.
“Holy Fek!” Nohr cried, immediately attempting to curl into as small a ball as he could. Each time he tried, his cartoonishly large enormity popped back up, refusing to go away peacefully. No matter which way he twisted, which way he contorted, which way he attempted to suck in each of his stomachs, which way he attempted to cross his legs, he just couldn’t do it. Finally, he collapsed back onto the ground, still in all his glory. More onlookers gawked, winced, and averted their eyes.
Out of the corner of his eye, Nohr noticed a handful of crumpled exhibit maps. He grabbed them then futilely attempted to arrange them in a way that would mask his situation. He made a hastily constructed pyramid shape, which fell apart almost as quickly as he built it. He momentarily considered poking a hole at the center of each map and impaling them on his rigidity, but decided that would look even more odd. If only he wore a hat, he thought. He could at least cover himself with it. Yet, he knew he’d eventually have to stand, and supposed having a hat dangling off his midsection would really be inconsistent with museum decorum.
Still regrettably displaying his unrequested salute, he sighed a deep sigh of defeat and resigned himself to his utterly public humiliation. He flung the remaining maps behind him and collapsed on the floor again. “Remind me again why I’m here, on the floor? You said something hit me?”
“Well, more like passed through you, ghostlike, after Facilities mistakenly freed her. They thought her urn needed cleaning, so they polished it,” said Xia.
“I don’t think it was the act of polishing it that freed her,” interjected Rodriguez. “It was likely due to the chemical compounds in the cleaning agent itself, reacting to the surface of the urn.”
“But we don’t know that, do we?” said Xia, clearly annoyed. “It hasn’t really been settled, and we have yet to properly analyze the molecular structure of either.”
Scoffing, Rodriguez waved him off.
“Freed? Freed who, exactly?” asked Nohr, still in a state of pronounced readiness.
“Voluptuphoria. Interdimensional being. She was apparently quite popular a few eons ago with the precursors to the Dilinteri, before their Enlightened Chastity movement really took hold. I believe she was their goddess of joy, music, and dance. Her worshippers often referred to her as the ‘Mistress of Festivity’ who represented the pleasurable, celebratory side of love and femininity. And orgasms. Lots of orgasms. She was well known for getting people in the mood, if you know what I mean,” Rodriguez said, raising his unibrow.
Xia nodded emphatically. “It is said that she alone led to the population explosion during their 2nd Dynasty. She basically got everyone to get busy. When those facilities workers inadvertently freed her from the Dour Urn of Stoicism, it was probably the first time she was really able to let loose in millions of cycles. Serious par-TAY time, my friend.”
“And I was the first person she saw, when her ephemeral form sprang forth?”
“Her ephemeral, scantily-clad, curvaceous form, yes. She flew at you like a drideez on smooph – and not smooph from concentrate, either, or that dehydrated stuff. I’m talking real, actual smooph,” said Rodriguez. Xia nodded. “She phased right through you. It didn’t last very long, really. There was a blinding, shimmering light, and… drumming coming from somewhere, I think?”
“Definitely drumming,” said Xia.
“Then she phased through the back wall and left.”
Nohr could relate to that. Well, maybe not the blinding light and the drumming, but certainly the whole ‘not lasting very long’ part. “Well, that would explain my mood. And my, well… you know,” he said, motioning with his eyes. “Tell me, was there anything in the ancient scrolls about her that might tell how long I’ll be in this… condition?”
Xia exchanged a quick glance with Rodriguez, smiled meekly, then said, “Maybe half a cycle, from what we’ve read.”
“Half a cycle?!” Nohr shouted, now clearly panicked. “But, but I’ve got work to do! I’m supposed to greet schoolchildren from the next field trip! I’m giving the keynote address at the nanocartography symposium the day after that! Wait, Kivv and I are having her mother over for dinner tonight!! I’m usually happy to see her mother – but not that happy!”
“Well, you’re certainly not greeting any schoolchildren like that,” said Rodriguez. “Not without getting arrested.”
“We can cover for you, for the field trip,” said Xia. “Maybe the keynote could be remote? You know, from the waist up?”
“Can’t help you with Kivv’s mom, though,” said Rodriguez, grimacing.
A sudden commotion erupted from the far end of the exhibit hall – hurried footsteps and the clanging, echoing sound of someone knocking over a holo-display. A ripple passed through the gathered crowd as heads turned in unison.
“Where is he?” shouted Kivv, clearly in distress. “Where’s Nohr?!” She burst through the now-substantial crowd of museum employees and onlookers, elbowed past Rodriguez, and hugged Nohr with the ferocity of an aquatic Tulanian bear guarding a meal of buepelfish.
“I-I was downstairs in Collections when I heard that boom! I didn’t know what to do. None of us did. Then Xia called and told me you’d been enveloped by some sort of… wait, hello! What is that?!” she said, eyeing his priapic enormity.
“Umm, yes. Well, about that…”
“Nohr had interdimensional ghost sex with an ancient fertility goddess from the Kaltric system,” said Rodriguez, matter of factly. Others around them nodded.
“You… you what?” she asked, stepping back from him.
“Heh-heh. Um, funny story, really, you see, I was just…”
“You had ‘interdimensional ghost sex’?!”
“Not per se, really. I mean, kind of, I suppose, depending on your perspective.”
“What does that even mean? You were with another woman?!”
“Well, when you put it like that I…”
“And you all just watched him?” she said, looking around the room accusingly. Everyone exchanged glances then nodded again.
“Look, sweetie, it’s not what you think. She sought me out and…”
“An interdimensional sex goddess ‘sought you out’? Really?!” she said, her hands on her hips.
“Well, maybe not ‘sought’ in the strictest sense of the word, but I was at hand and she…”
“It’s true, Kivv,” said Xia. “She was starving for affection after eons of confinement in a jar, and basically tackled him. Nohr had, quite reflexively, ‘risen to the occasion’ if you know what I mean.”
“You’re just jealous,” said Rodriguez, side-eying him.
“A little, yes,” pouted Xia. “Anyway, then she left. Now Nohr will be ‘standing at attention’ for a half cycle, possibly more.”
Kivv’s head spun. She ran her fingers through her fuchsia tendrils and looked around at the crowd, her brow so extraordinarily furrowed that it risked invading the rest of her face. Then she glanced back at Nohr, who looked about as sheepish as she had ever seen him look. Kivv sighed, and held out her hand.
“Come with me. Now,” she said in perhaps the most assertive tone Nohr had ever heard her use.
“Now? Um, alright. It’s kind of awkward walking like this…”
“Now. I’ll tell my mom we need to reschedule. We’re going back to your place. You’re putting on some of that ancient Hunin music – Berrywhite, I think?”
“Berrywhite?”
“Definitely. Or Eyesikkayes, or maybe Mar-Vingay. And you’re not going to speak of this galactic floozy ‘goddess’ ever again. Understood?” she said, clutching one of his left arms. Nohr nodded, still somewhat dazed but dutifully following along.
Rodriguez, Xia, and the others watched as they quickly exited the building, underneath the ‘Thank You for Visiting. Please Come Again.’ sign. Off in the distance, a medivac siren wailed.
