Artificial Heart

16

Prisha stared up at the ceiling, wide-awake. The events of the night would not stop swirling in her brain. It was all so vivid, so astonishing, so utterly impossible. Though it was hours ago, it was all still pumping through her veins. It seemed so much less real to be here, in bed, back in her mundane life.

I still have four hours with you. What should we do?

It was the dumbest question she'd ever asked.

They'd flown all over the globe, sometimes close, sometimes far above the clouds, in the daylight, in the night. She'd seen Europe and Russia and Mongolia. She'd seen shifting icecaps and blasting volcanos. She'd flown over great twinkling cities like Hong Kong and New York and even Cairo. She'd seen the pyramids!

Then there were the deep forests and the expansive landscapes, the mountains and oceans and islands. Fires, floods, storms, wars. She'd seen huge movements of people and animals, like waves across the surface. How could so many astonishing things be happening all on one planet? Prisha hadn't really done much travelling; it always seemed like such a big task. Now ... Earth suddenly seemed so small.

Next time she wanted to go in the other direction, out into space. Maybe see the moon! Prisha threaded her fingers together. Excitement bubbled over in her chest. Then there was Alf. They'd kissed. They'd held each other. He'd touched her.

She held up her hand, studying it, remembering how his own big hand had clasped firmly around it as she gripped the lever of the ship's controls. It had been just as exhilarating as everything else.

Alf.

She was only a few hours back home and she already missed him. She missed him like an ache in her guts.

But that's very sad.

Longer than your lifetime.

Prisha rolled onto her side with a sigh. He hadn't specified when next he'd pick her up.

She prayed it was soon.

She spent the next several days in a daze. Everything seemed so different now. Her surroundings. Her own self. Life in general. Everything seemed pointless and dull. It felt like she was moving through a fog. It was like she'd left her mind and soul and happiness up with Alf amid the stars.

It was hard to focus on her work. Meeting with clients was difficult. But she managed. Her sister was calling her with less frequency now, which was good. Often, Prisha felt guilty about holding so much of the truth back from her. Other times, she was splitting at the seams to tell her everything.

She didn't, of course. That would be a very very bad thing.

At night, when all her work was done, she would sit in her yard, gazing up a the twinkling stars, watching, waiting, hoping, wondering if he might be looking down upon her. She would touch her mouth and close her eyes, remembering how he'd felt. Most nights she would go to the park, hopelessly hopeful, knowing full well he wouldn't be there, not without that telltale burn at the back of her neck.

During her free time she would search the news, looking for anything about her astounding encounter between her and these so-called world leaders. She tried hard to remember it. What she'd seen. What she'd been thinking. How she'd felt. She tried to recall the seven figures, their appearance, expressions and accents. She should have asked them their names.

Yeah ... sure.

At each swipe of her phone or click of a channel on the T.V, her heart would thump and she would brace herself. Nothing. There was nothing. How could there be nothing? No evidence at all of the miraculous event that had happened while the rest of the world had eaten and slept and worked.