Artificial Heart

It was a peculiar thing—dying. Or perhaps she was already dead. It seemed that way as she stood by the wall next to the mean-looking man with the folded arms. He was looking upon the chaos with indifferent curiosity. Prisha watched on too, strangely calm.

‘I see why you like standing here. It’s nicer,’ Prisha said. She looked him over. ‘Who are you anyway, I wonder?’

‘Get the adrenaline ready!’ Embry called.

‘Blood pressure: 82 on 55!’ Lucy exclaimed.

‘Get me some Gelofusin Stat! Keep the saline coming!’

There were seven people around her bed. It made it hard to see herself amid the organised chaos. The team was good. They seemed to know what they were doing. But would it be enough?

‘You wouldn’t care if I died, would you? You might even enjoy it.’

The man didn’t answer her. She could see herself now amid the swarming people. They’d cut away her clothes and she was naked. Her eyes were open. She was so pale she was almost white. She was flaccid and puffy.

She was responding to some of Embry’s questions. She could see him straight above her as much as she could see him from across the room. It was all perplexing and impossible, and yet somehow it all made perfect sense.

‘What a trip,’ she said. ‘Dead at forty-eight. At least I’ll have something to talk about when I get to the other side.’ She thought of Renee and winced. Then again, maybe her sister was dead too. Prisha winced again. ‘Serves me right. Serves me right for getting on that stupid ship in the first place.’

One of the needles fell out of her arm and blood spurted everywhere.

‘Be careful!’ Embry cried.

‘Blood pressure 89 on 55! Maintaining.’

‘Still not good enough.’

Prisha sighed as she watched. How long was this going to go for? How long did it take to die?

‘Blood pressure 79 on 45!’

‘Where’s the noradrenaline?! Get the metaraminol!’

Prisha’s eyes rolled. A white light flashed across the room, enveloping everyone in it. This was it. Was heaven opening up? She turned at the sound of pounding. There came a heavy thud against the door. It’s middle bulged, then exploded with an earsplitting crack that made Prisha clutch at her head. People shouted and screamed.

The mean man leapt into action but he was nothing against Alf. The alien stood in the broken doorway, glowing with that eerie light, the same as the others. He was wearing his mask again, eyes beaming and glittering above. He was holding a weapon that was shaped like a rocket, silver, with a pointed tip. The mean man pulled out a gun and shot. Alf was fast. Suddenly the man was on the ground, screaming, all bent up as he clutched his leg.

Alf turned the weapon upon the rest of the room.

‘Back away,’ Embry told them all.

He dropped his stethoscope. Other instruments dropped to the floor as the team of men and women raised their hands and pulled back. Prisha watched Alf, transfixed. He was standing directly beside her the same time as he was gazing at her dying body across the room. His face crumpled.

‘Alf, I’m here.’ She reached out to touch his arm but it passed right through him.

He approached her body. His weapon hit the floor with a heavy thud. Everything was quiet now, except for the beeping of the machines.

‘Alf,’ Prisha croaked from the bed. From across the room, she watched as she gave a weak smile.

He touched her face. She could feel his fingertips brush against her cheek. She was looking up at him the same time as she watched him from across the room.

‘She’s dying,’ Embry said. ‘If you want her, you’d better take her quick.’

Alf’s eyes dropped to the tubes snaking out of her arms. Embry and Lucy quickly twisted them off. Nobody else moved. Prisha blinked up at him as he looked down upon her.

He bent over and Prisha felt his arms slide under her as he lifted her up into his arms, big belly and all. Prisha flopped. She could barely keep her eyes open, much less lift her arms or head. It was a heart-aching sight to watch.

Prisha stepped aside instinctively as they approached. The moment they both passed, Prisha sank back completely into her body—and she was finally looking up at him as one person.

Her cheeks were wet. Everything was sore. Her body felt so heavy. The thud of his boots rang in her ears.

‘Home?’ Prisha croaked, and she had no idea what she meant by that.

‘Yes.’

Then he started running. The corridor was a smear. The lights of the ceiling were blinding and zipped past like she was driving in a car. People ducked out of the way, blurring into the corridor.

They ascended steps. Traversed more corridors. His boots softened against carpet. Then they were running through a large gleaming foyer with a polished aggregate floor and marble pillars. There were people watching. Security guards. Men in black. Nobody stopped them. Prisha glimpsed a large crater in a wall. There were shards of glass on the floor.

It was dark outside. Of course it was. Prisha turned her head to look behind but nobody was following. She saw the same white building as before. The smashed glass on the pavement twinkled against the nearby street light, much like the stars above.

They were waiting for her.

He was fast. Faster still now that they were out in the open. The park and fountain and the buildings blasted past. His feet seemed to hardly meet the earth. It felt like she was flying. She supposed she kind of was.

And then his boots hit something hard and metallic. It thudded in her ears as fast as her pounding heart. The ship! It was in the park, just as he said it would be.

Home.

The twinkling lights in the darkness were comforting; she’d dreamed about them constantly. He took her into the “bench” room and laid her down. Immediately, he turned to a small screen on the wall, pressed some images and then tubes were snaking down towards her.

Prisha didn’t move, unafraid, as they connected to the needles in her arms.

He removed his mask and she got to glimpse his marvellous, heartbreaking face before he disappeared through the door.

More tubes snaked around her. She felt a shift in the room, as though the ship was moving. The tubes prodded and poked. Blood slid up one of them. More tubes slithered down from the ceiling. These ones had spatula-like ends. They suctioned onto the skin of her belly. Pink fluid trailed up one of them.

Fluid was now coursing the other way, back down through the tubes. She closed her eyes as light flashed in her face. She started to shiver. Her elbows and the backs of her knees thudded against the bench. Bindings shot out from the table and strapped her down.

A warm, big hand pressed against her forehead. Prisha’s eyes snapped open.

‘Alf.’

He was frowning.

‘I’m sorry,’ she hiccoughed. ‘I’m weak.’

His red eye trembled in its socket. ‘You are not the weak one.’

Prisha was crying as he touched her cheek.

There were so many questions. They clawed up her throat but lost momentum when they reached her lips.

‘Rest. Recover,’ he said.

‘Is it all right?’

He laid his hand upon her belly. Prisha gasped at a sudden movement inside. Her teeth chattered. He left to get one of those familiar “space” blankets. Prisha could have laughed. Old times.

He smoothed it over her, making sure to tighten it around her body. Then he pulled over a stool and sat down beside her.

‘You’re going to stay with me?’ she said.

‘Until the end.'