Section 3: Return to Border City

True to his word, LX returned a few days later, informing us that the others had left, and that it was now safe to move about without fear.  The next part of his plan was for us to move back to Border City where we would begin constructing ships to protect ourselves and also to punish those who were responsible for the attack on our planet.  Leaving the safety of this place that had been our home for a couple of years was difficult.  There had been something about living here that had turned us into a real family.  We had each lost so much as individuals and had been forced to lean upon one another for support during those hard times, but if what LX said was true, there was little we could do in our present location to accomplish the task before us.  We needed more space, more food, and more accommodation than this wild place could provide. 

As the group packed up their important possessions, I wondered why we had to move back to Border City.  True, it had some automotive plants, but there were several other cities that also had plants and they were almost in a straight line along the same highway.  On LX’s next visit we discussed this issue.  Our decision was to put the main group initially in Border City and later send work crews to the other locations so that the ships could be built in the least amount of time.  This would allow us to make use of eight facilities, including those across the border.  We would hunt for two more sites to complete the ten or eleven ships that LX had in mind, plus the many scout and attack ships to accompany what he called the battle cruisers and the one, all-powerful mother ship that'd be the command vessel.  Then we'd be in a position for defense or attack, whichever we decided.

***

It was bitter-sweet being back in town.  I had spent most of my life here, working living, loving.  I was born here, went to school, and made many friends.  Most were gone now.  There was no mother, father or wife and children to talk to.  Every familiar building or structure brought with it memories of previous adventures.  There was that business where that young man had been caught in the act trying to break open a safe.  What had they said in the paper?  While trying to get the safe open, the young fellow had handed the flashlight to his friend standing behind him.  Only, it wasn’t his friend, it was a police officer.  His friends had all fled.  Some crook that kid turned out to be.  There was the burned out factory where an arsonist had destroyed a tenant’s life work with a single match and a gallon of gasoline.  There was the old movie theatre where we'd attended on Tuesdays for half price.  We'd never missed a Sci-Fi flick; now we were living one. 

There was the park where I'd played as a youngster.  I could still remember splashing in the shallow wading pool and its tall fountain in the middle spewing cold sprays of water on a hot, summer afternoon.  The parks department shut the pools down eventually, for either sanitary reasons or maybe broken glass.  It was eventually filled in with dirt.  There were the swings that we all had enjoyed.  I remembered that one boy who thought that jumping from the swing when he had it up as high as he could get it was a thrill.  I don’t recall how long he was in a cast while his ankle mended after colliding with a tree, but I never emulated that trick.

There was an old cola bottling plant in town, and the company would bring busses to the park to pick up kids and take them for a tour of their plant.  On a hot day, this was a real treat, because the plant gave every child a sparkling cold bottle to drink.  Afterwards, they bussed us back to the park where we continued to play.  Our parents hadn’t needed to sign permission slips.  For that matter, they didn’t even know we'd gone until we told them later. 

I remembered the old coal fired trains that sped along the tracks spewing columns of white smoke over the field where we played ball.  In that same field, English gentlemen would play a cricket game on Sunday afternoons.  There were the ditches beside the track that we accessed through a hole in the fence.  Here we were able to collect pollywogs in glass jars we borrowed from our mothers’ pantries.  We had put nails on the tracks when we saw a train coming in the distance.  Afterwards, we had searched for the little swords created between the engine’s gigantic wheels and the iron rails.  At other times, the flattened metal was a penny.

My old house was nearby.  On Sunday afternoons the family had set up a table in the living room where we ate sirloin steak, potatoes and an escarole or that bitter endive salad as we watched war documentaries narrated by Walter Cronkite on the black and white television.  It was a regular celebration.  Mom had worked in the meat department of a major grocery chain during those early years, and knew how to pick out the best cuts of steak.

And Mom was a very good cook.  After she quit work and took up more home making, I would come home on a Friday after school to the smell of freshly baked bread, cookies, pie or other tasty delights.  Other times, Mom cooked her famous pot roasts.  The smell of the searing meat and fat turned me off, but later, as we sat around eating the finished product I couldn’t get enough.  Mom always took a sharp knife which she used to make deep slits in the meat, and into these, she shoved several cloves of garlic.  After I began to attend a college out of town, I would return home on a weekend to find that Mom had made up her special roast.  One time, while we were eating in the living room, watching TV, Mom went back into the kitchen to find that our family dog had climbed up on a chair and helped himself to the rest of the roast.  How disappointing that was!   

I had played in the sand box in the back yard, under my parent’s bedroom window, singing happily to myself, even when alone.  And they made really good toys back in those days.  Inside that bedroom, I had slept in my parent’s bed, sick with who knew back then.  I only knew that it had gone on for weeks, vomiting, sweating, weakness.  The doctors didn’t know what to make of it, but eventually, I got better and whatever it had been was left well behind, as I grew up strong and healthy.

There was the shed, back by the alley.  Dad had made some alterations to the building that didn't have a positive effect on its shape.  Like many newlyweds, Mom and Dad didn't have a lot of money and so, instead of buying more coal when needed, Dad thought he could remove a few boards from the shed.  The shed eventually took on a list that had the appearance of a sinking ship.  But Dad kept all his tools locked up there.  That shed was where I had worked on my grade eight science project.  It didn’t look very nice, but it worked and to my amazement, (I had been a bit embarrassed to bring it to school for not only was it rough looking, but all I had to conceal it was an old potato sack), the teacher loved it and wanted me to enter it in the school’s science fair. Unfortunately, although I did sand and varnish my project, a tiny wire had broken and I wasn't able to locate the problem until after the fair was over.

My older brother and I had shared bunk beds in the tiny bedroom.  Sometimes, I would attach sheets to the springs of the upper bunk and creating rooms, like a house in the lower level.  At other times during the night, my brother would scare me by telling me that some monster called the Boogeyman was in the closet, or under the bed, driving me under the blankets.  This was not a problem during the winter, as the room was cold, but during the summer, our house became very hot and stayed that way most of the night, so covering the head then was not the most convenient thing to do.  One way to deal with the problem during the summer was to close the closet door securely and check under the bed before climbing in.  However, if LX was telling us the truth, the Boogeyman had left the building for good.

The first order of business, at least for those of us from Border City, was to bury what was left of our family.  As a group, we had gone to each of the homes or locations where our loved ones had been, gathered up their clothing and taken these to the cemetery on the outskirts of town.  We dug several small holes, large enough to hold each person's apparel, then after a short service we interred them and placed wooden crosses at each site.  It helped bring a certain amount of closure to our grief.  Later, Lise occasionally asked me to take her back to the cemetery to visit her parents.  And judging by the condition of the grass, I figured that Lise and I were not the only visitors.

LX's friends had employed their tiny ships to scour the continents to locate and retrieve as many survivors as possible.  Getting folk to enter a craft of those who had once tried to kill them was not easy and took much time, but eventually the cyborgs were able to win the hearts of most, leaving very few behind to fend for themselves.  Today, we were building a new civilization, and with the help of LX, we were growing into a unified family.  Unlike those people of days long ago, who had attempted to build a tower to heaven after the Noachian flood, whose languages had been changed, causing them to spread out across the planet, this day’s people, diverse in origins, and impacted by yet another terrestrial disaster of sorts, were becoming one in purpose and language.  LX had insisted that English be the language of the land, that there had to be a unified language in order to accomplish what had to be done.  This was no time to squander our energy arguing about ethnic diversity.  These differences must be left behind, in the world that was.  There would be no multilingualism.  The instruments on board our future ships would be in one language only, a language that all would have to understand.  Instructions would be in English.  While it would have been nice to teach the children to read and write their mother tongues, it was now a luxury that Earth could ill afford.  In order to remember the history of our planet, those who were capable, began the long tedious job of translating as much of their cultures’ works as possible into English. 

As was to be expected, not all appreciated the new order of things, but by and large, most accepted the situation as the only alternative to the status quo.  And, because most of the survivors were now widowed or otherwise single, finding a mate of the same culture and language with so few to choose from was nearly impossible anyway, so a common language made sense as did interracial marriages or relationships.

So, we had begun with a language school.  Instruction was intense.  Initially, I was the head teacher, the program designer, but without the help of others, we wouldn't have been successful.  My former students and Dr. Manning as well as survivors from other English speaking countries all had their part to play in teaching this diverse group the finer points of English.  We did not concern ourselves with accents, the unique way in which various countries pronounced their words.  The rule was, “Any English as long as it is "English Only" and understandable.”  It was tough going for some, particularly the older ones, but after a few months, obvious progress had been made.  Some who had taken English as a second language in their own country were the first to be able to master the basics, and we put these to work immediately teaching those at the beginner levels.  This did not mean that they stopped their own lessons, just that they now had an opportunity to use it.

At first, rather than choose homes at random throughout the city, most were located in various apartment complexes that we felt would serve the needs of most of the survivors who would be remaining in Border City to work.  It was important for several reasons.  It was reasonably close to the job.  It was close to a school where those who needed the language training could learn in a structured environment.  It was close to a store where we would stock most of the things that we needed, both nutritionally and otherwise.    Everyone was transported to and from work by bus.  There were several of these around town that still worked and had a lot of fuel on board. (Besides, we were quite capable to getting the gasoline out of the storage tanks.  We could thank the N’davalites for having no interest in these.)  Our store would be stocked at the direction of my minister of acquisitions.  This meant that whoever held this post, would scour the city for supplies that were still fit to eat or otherwise something that a person could use in their house.

Daily, scout ships brought more people to Border City.  LX's original calculations of the number of world-wide survivors was incorrect.  As time progressed and Border City grew in size, the former solution to housing proved useless.  Some folk enjoy living close to their neighbours, while others prefer to have a place of their own, and with so many single family residences available, the majority soon won out and took to the homes. 

***

It was during the spring of that first year back in Border City that Lise, Carol, LX and I got together for a night together to celebrate our wedding anniversary.  Finding the perfect gift for the perfect wife was not too difficult.  I knew the location of all the jewelry stores in town and took advantage of that fact.  Lise was delighted with my choice of a genuine pearl necklace.  I had picked up other items such as rings and bracelets, but hid these around the house where I was sure she wouldn't find them.

Carol, being the practical person she was, put one of those fancy gift bags on the table out of which she pulled a pair of satin sheets.  When I saw them I immediately wanted to make the bed.  I'd heard wonderful stories about them.  Looking at Lise, I noticed that she seemed a little uncomfortable.  I assumed correctly, that her mind was on the bedroom at that moment as well.   

The real gift came from LX.  He placed two small boxes on the table, one for Lise and the other for me.  I let Lise open hers first.  Whatever it was, appeared to be a sort of odd shaped jewel and was suspended by a gold chain that LX said was to be worn around the neck.  I gave LX a quizzical look.  He said nothing but indicated with his head and eyes that I should open my gift as well.  Inside was an identical object.  I put it around my neck and let it dangle.  “Thanks,” I said, not knowing what else to say, considering that I had absolutely no idea what the present was.

“Take them off, both of you.”  LX had a big grin on his face.  “You don’t know what these are, do you?”

“Well, now that you mentioned it, no.  I am assuming that they are a piece of jewelry.”

“In that you are correct.  But they are not just any jewelry.”

“You stole them from Fort Knox?”

“No man.  It’s gold they store at Fort Knox, remember?  Now hand them to me.”

“So, what is this Indian Giver time?”  I handed my chain back to LX, while Lise clung to hers a little longer.

When LX had both pieces of jewelry in his hands he said, “Watch this.”  He twisted the two pieces carefully around one another, like two combs entwining.  Suddenly, the object in the middle glowed.  As I looked closely, it appeared as if there were a hologram of both Lise and me where the jewel had been. 

“That’s incredible, LX.  Where’d you get something like that?”

“Yes, LX.   I love it.  Where did you get that?”  It was Lise’s turn to be curious.  And then I realized that although it was a lovely gift, it was also something to raise questions.  But LX was quick on his feet.

“I made this from jewelry I found in my travels and with the help of a gentleman from the orient.  It is amazing isn’t it?  The idea is that you each wear your own piece of the object and from time to time take it off and put it together.”

“Why thank you very much LX.  We’ll both treasure these.”  And I slipped mine back around my neck.

“But how does it work?” both women wanted to know. 

“I haven’t any idea,” was LX’s answer and for sure, a huge lie.

“Where’s the man who helped make it?”  It was Carol alone this time.

“I had to leave him in Taiwan.  He was an old man and didn’t want to move.  I never told anyone, but there were a few cases like that.  I go back and check on him once in a while to make sure he’s okay.”

“I’d like to see him sometime,” Carol persisted. 

“I’ll take you some time,” LX promised.  But I knew it was a promise he'd never keep.   

***

We stopped thinking of LX as an L and an X, a couple of roman numerals, shortly after returning to Border City and gave him the same sounding name but with a couple more letters thrown in - Elex. We also gave him a last name.   It made him appear more human, at least on paper.  But it was not an easy task coming up with something suitable.  I had thought of Emm, but realized that that was just an extension of LX, as in LXM, more roman numerals.  Also the thought struck me that he could be Mr. Oldman, for he was indeed quite old, but again, people might just start calling him Old Man, and I didn’t like the sound of that either.  How about Smith?  Nope, too common.  I was sitting on my couch one evening when Slim attacked me, ready to play.  “What do you want, you fat slob?” I insulted him.  He barked a couple of times, and I realized that he wanted me to take him for a walk, something both of us needed. 

As we trudged along, I began telling him about the name problem.  “Slim, old buddy, I need a name for Elex.  Got any ideas?”

As if to answer, he looked up at me and cocked his head to one side, as if to say, “I don’t understand.  Could you repeat that?”

I started to think of Slim and how we had named him.  I began to go over ideas in my head, returning to my earlier attempts at a name.  “Slim, fat.  Lise warned me about you.  You sure aren’t living up to your name.  Old man, young man.  Perhaps Elex doesn’t have to live up to his name either.  I never heard of Youngman as a last name before, but I have heard of Young.  Robert Young, the actor, and Loretta Young, actress.  And now, Elex Young, the old man from N’davala.  Perfect!  Let’s go tell Elex right away.” And with that, I changed our direction and headed for Elex’s place, hoping that he'd be there, because there was a good chance that he was elsewhere.  “Thanks, Slim.” And at the sound of his name, Slim raised his head once more giving me that quizzical look as we continued along.

These days, Elex and Doctor Manning were frequently seen together.  Considering her confession to me, I thought that odd, but realized that Elex was no normal human and could be a very sensitive individual.  From time to time, when we had the opportunity to visit, we men would talk about our ladies.  Then, one evening, Elex expressed a particularly deep interest in the Doctor, going on about her intelligence, good looks, her kind and generous personality, everything a man could ask for in a woman.  Frequently as we chatted, it was difficult to talk about personal things, as Elex tended to dominate the conversations.  On this occasion however, he went on and on.  It was Carol this and Carol that.

 I was in a bit of shock.  I wanted to shut him up, to share what Carol had shared with me.  It was difficult to let him continue, but I didn’t want to betray Carol.  After all, you just don’t go around telling everyone, “Hey, my friend here is a lesbian.”  Carol was a warm human being and my good friend, but Elex had to know before he got himself in so deep that he might do something really stupid, let alone have to suffer from a broken heart. He didn’t really have a heart, but he still had feelings. Who knew what a love sick N’davalite puppy might do.  “Elex, you need to know something about Carol.”

“I already know everything I need to know,” was his reply, made with the love blinded appearance of a sixteen year old human.  It would've been comical to see him like this, if it hadn't been so serious and he wasn't so…well, really old.  Elex, the one who had become my best friend next to Lise, was in trouble.  I had to help. 

“You probably don’t know this,” I stated.  I paused, searching for a kind, diplomatic way to break the news, but coming up empty on that account, decided to just say it.  “Carol is a lesbian,” and just in case he didn’t know what that meant, I added, “She doesn’t like men, only women.  She’s a dead end for a long term adult relationship with a man.  She will not fall romantically in love with you, Elex.”

“I know.  She told me all that,” Elex said matter of factly, then added, “What a challenge, eh?”

“For all your intelligence, Elex, you really can be dumb like the rest of us,” I thought to myself, then spoke aloud, “What a challenge?  Elex, do you know what you're saying?  Do you know what a Cul de Sac is?  How about end of the road.  Snowball’s chance in Hell?  Elex, you don’t have the keys to start her car.  You don’t have the password to her computer, let alone the one to her heart.  You think you can overcome this problem?  Elex, get out while you can.”  I dropped my head and closed my eyes.  He knew and yet he didn’t care.

“Warren, I know that she prefers women, yet she hasn’t taken one for a mate, so all things considered, she's still alone and needs company.   I’m willing to wait.  I have lots of time.  And in the mean time, she still gives me a hug and the occasional kiss on the cheek, because she appreciates me as a human...a real human.  I have really strong feelings for her.  AND, I’m a patient man.”

"If it isn't too personal, could you fill me in a little more?  What actually went down between you two?"

"Okay, I'll give you the long version.  I had noticed her around and thought I'd ask her out.  Her immediate answer was 'No!'  I had to admit, I was taken aback by her speedy response.  When I asked her why, she told me I was wasting my time.  To which I answered that spending time with such a beautiful woman could never be a waste of my time.  That's when she sprang it on me.  No beating around the bush.  She just came out with it.  'I'm a lesbian."  I had to smile at that, because I had an immediate answer, too.  'And I'm a cyborg.'  She just looked at me with, 'Look you silly man, I know that's a lot of BS.'  But before the night was over, I convinced her."

"How'd you manage to do that?"

"Well picture this.  I'm standing in the middle of her living room, stark naked and Carol is listening to every joint in my body from my head to my toes…"  Elex notices the expression of unbelief written across my face and quickly adds, "…for the sounds of my gears and servos.  Every once in a while, I keep hearing, 'shit, it's true’.  Then she stands up and takes a really good look at me, kind of like a meat inspector or a pervert, take your choice.  She tells me that she's never seen such perfect symmetry before in a human and I tell her that that's what I'd been trying to tell her, that I wasn't a human.  Then she tells me, 'Get your clothes on and sit down.  We need to talk.'  She asked me why I'd want to spend time with her, knowing I wasn't ever going to get around the bases.  I told her that she was beautiful, and I liked hanging around good looking people; she was intelligent and I liked to have intelligent conversations; she was funny, and I often needed someone to laugh with.  Then she says, 'Just remember this, Elex.  You'll never get so far as first base.  And tomorrow, you are getting an X-ray.’”  

"Wow!" was all I could say.

"And I've been seeing her regularly since." 

“That's quite a story. And, you must be a very patient man, indeed, Elex.”  If Elex really was willing to wait for eternity, and had the patience to do so, for he certainly had the body to almost last that long, he might make a perfect close friend to Carol who would eventually learn to trust him as her closest possible male companion.  She may never love him as a husband and wife normally do, but there is a kind of love that surpasses even Eros, that these two could share.  “And, you are a lucky man,” I encouraged him, “Most women, so I’ve heard anyway, would prefer a man who just cuddled, so if you can restrain yourself and confine your excitement to the fine art of cuddling, you may do all right after all.  Good luck to you Elex.”   And then I thought of Lise who would be at her nightly English classes, teaching the new acquires from distinct cultures and languages from around the globe.  Just how did she describe how she was getting along with her students?  Frustratingly rewarding?  Was she familiar with the term, oxymoron?

***