COURIER COMPANION

BY: Ulysses Simon

“He’s sleeping.” Amaya sat near the bed where her sweet Paul slept, but when she put her hand over his lips, there was nothing there. No breath to moisten her wedding ring, no sleeping murmurs, no warmth. Only stillness. Still, she caressed his cheek and found herself longing for him to wake.

He would wake soon.

So it was always easier to say he was sleeping.

She stopped her pointless longing and prepared herself for work. She dolled up her face in the mirror. There’d been complaints that her face was sometimes far too deadpan, which looked poor on her record. This time, she’d remember to smile and soften her eyes so that Paul would receive nothing but calm and ease from her. She would’ve hoped that the extra hour of cosmetics would do the trick, making her eyes a little bigger, her skin a little tanner, and her teeth a bit brighter. She would only need perfection for a short while.

“It’s almost time,” she said, checking her watch. She pressed the thin, silk dress that covered her lingerie. She made sure they left her breasts full and partially exposed. Then she crossed her legs and twitched the ends of her lips up into a smile.

Paul’s eyes burst open to the usual panic-induced hysteria. His body sucked in air as if he had forgotten how to breathe because it never knew how to breathe. His limbs flailed underneath the blanket and restraints, but failed to go anywhere due to the tightness of the bed wrap.

Most of the body was trapped underneath a thick winter blanket, which would keep them until they adjusted to their bodily functions. No accidental self-destructions or undo harm to the companion.

Amaya let the hyperventilating go on for perhaps a second longer than she should have. Then she reached a hand to massage the man’s chest until it calmed. “Paul,” she whispered. “Let the body do its natural work. It breathes on its own.”

It snapped his neck at her, angry at its own confusion. But there was nothing to be confused about. She was speaking English and it could understand her. It would just have to get used to the fact that it could understand her, just like it would have to get used to breathing, speaking, and moving with only four limbs and a head. The process was sometimes excruciatingly slow, especially among newcomers.

Amaya continued to soothe Paul until eventually the breathing slowed and the arms stopped flailing. “See. Isn’t that better?” She did her usual factory checks, being as subtle as she could without undoing her smile. Heartbeat was normal. Blinking was automatic. The body reacted to sight and sound just fine. She took in Paul’s face. Still the perfect face.

“You can speak. Just think of whatever you’d like to say and try to say it,” she said.

The words came out slowly as if Paul had permanent brain damage. “Is… this... real?” The face gasped at the voice it created.

Amaya chuckled to herself. “Is this your first time?”

“Ye…sss... Ye is. Yes.”

“Here, let's sit you up.” After Amaya undid the restraints, she waited a few minutes for the mandatory adjustment period. The motions made Paul seem robotic as it cranked his limbs, searching for the natural bends of the joints. The popping and cracking of his bones sounded like stepping on a bag of potato chips.

Amaya patiently sat with her smile until Paul’s hand eagerly grabbed onto her breast. The suddenness made her gasp, but remembering, she straightened her chest and tried not to look offended. It was Paul, she reminded herself.

“I’ve always heard about the way people pined over another’s body. I’ve heard battles over the opposite sex have wiped out thousands of you at a time. I’m curious.” They had lost the slow, timid manner of their speaking.

Amaya inwardly scoffed at its oversimplification of human conflict. She wouldn’t argue, though. Sex was always one of the first things they wanted. The reasons ultimately varied, but the result was always the same.

Amaya, showing off her womanly features, crawled on top of Paul’s body, straddling him as he lightly moved his hands up and down her figure. She would take the lead until Paul’s human instinct took over and controlled the thrusting of his hips. Rough. None of the same passion or tenderness. She could feel their rage, their animal instinct, in the way they made love to her. It was like having sex with different animals in the same body. This one was like a rabbit, nimble and restless. She pretended to love it despite the occasional spikes of pain and erratic movements. When it was done, it seemed overjoyed by everything that it learned about Paul’s body and hers.

“I want to do it again,” it said.

“Only once per visit, I’m afraid. Now I hope you don’t intend to spend your entire time in bed.”

She helped it get dressed and outfitted herself in a sweater and comfortable slacks. “Nothing too lazy, but also nothing you wouldn’t wear at home.” Eldritch had said to her.

It had moved to the balcony of the cabin. The cabin had the most beautiful views of the island resort. The sun breathed like a painting in the afternoon sky. The trees rustled in the light winds of the world. Paul had taken to the treadmill, wearing themself out by testing the limits of the human body.

“How is it, Paul?” She handed him a bottle of water and a towel as his body glistened with sweat.

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

“It's part of the human experience. The name comes with the body.”

“Is that so?” He poured the water over his face before stuffing it into the white cloth of the towel. “I’ve never felt anything like this. My body is usually… a lot squishier. If someone of your weight were to sit on me, I’d surely suffocate. But it's also very familiar. Like this was always my true form. Maybe that’s just how it works. Perhaps inhabiting the body of a different species affects the psychology of a being rather than just the physiology.”

“Perhaps.”

The extraterrestrials tended to compare the bodies of their homeworlds to Paul’s. She wondered if this one was a kind of bug person where it came from. She was no large woman for it to complain about her weight. Perhaps they were like humans, only tinier and squishier. She wasn’t allowed to ask. Questioning them about their life on another planet would derail the human experience, which was against the code she had been given. “Do nothing to derail the human experience,” Eldritch said. “Make the passenger feel as at home as possible in their temporary body.”

“Is there anything you’d like to do next?” Amaya asked. It stared down at her breasts again, though Amaya made sure to cover them thoroughly by crossing her arms so as not to tease the passenger. “May I suggest dinner?”

“Well, I am feeling, how you say... hungry,” it cackled.

A premade meal was already waiting for them at the dining table. The main entrée was a large cooked turkey. They decided on a Thanksgiving theme this time. It was arranged in the same setup her grandmother used. Each food item was carefully portioned in its own bowl and placed in a buffet line.

She served Paul a bit of everything while she took tiny portions to make it seem as though they were eating together. She saw Paul’s eyes glow at the taste of sugared ham. “Sweet hive queen. This is fantastic!” It stuffed Paul’s face like a primitive gorilla.

 So it was some sort of bug creature. Amaya tried to picture it. Large squishy, a thousand eyes, and twitching antennae. The thought of it made her skin crawl. She had just had sex with it. She didn’t think it was possible to feel more shame than she already did, but giving herself to a bug creature was somehow a line she hadn’t crossed yet.

After dinner, Paul ignored her, finding a fascination in the dining room television. It only ever opened its mouth again when it didn’t understand a specific word or wanted to know the rules of the game that was on. Amaya would calmly answer in the stiff tone of an AI.

The next thing she knew, the timer on her watch began flashing its bright red. Amaya escorted this version of Paul back into the bed, letting the passenger know that, unfortunately, it's time as Paul had come to an end. Amaya guided his head into her lap as she rocked Paul to sleep. Then she would sing her favorite lullaby. It wasn’t a part of the experience. It was her own special touch. It might remember her for this. It might sing her song, and say her name, and speak about how she caressed it in its final human moments. Then she’d get more passengers and her name would reach the stars, wherever they were.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,

You make me happy when skies are grey.

You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you,

Please don't take my sunshine away.”

Satisfied with the hour of human experience, it closed his eyes. Amaya lay his head down and covered him with the heavy blanket. She watched him descend back into a corpse.

The cleaning bots quickly swept the floors, cleared the dining room table, and wiped the sweat from the treadmill. This indicated her half-hour break in between sessions. The break only served as time for the bots to straighten the mess Paul had made for the next to come.

She had no clue what others in her position did with their breaks, but all she ever wanted to do was wash. The shower ended up taking half of her allotted time. The rest was spent thinking, self-pitying, and pretending to be clean. Then, when the alarm rang, she would redo her face, change out her lingerie, and wait for Paul to wake again.

He did, and this time the passenger was less new. Paul immediately sat up and pulled her into the bed to have its way with her. This one was heavy and slow when it entered her, reminding Amaya of a bear still half asleep. She spent a little longer this time, freshening up and changing into her casual attire. She was already feeling numb. “It's only the second today. Keep it together.” She stared at her deadpan face in the mirror, slapping some water on it before reapplying her makeup.

The rest of the hour was relatively easy, playing the servant while Paul buried the passenger’s mind in American sitcoms. Amaya watched Paul laugh with some fleeting satisfaction. She wondered if this Paul understood their society enough to laugh at their jokes or if it was simply mimicking the nature of the laugh tracks. Laughter was sometimes a natural human reaction—a reaction to the fear of being alone. One was easily ostracized when they didn’t get the joke. She imagined making a joke to a bee. Bees didn’t live in human society. So even if the bee were suddenly given a complete understanding of the language, the joke would likely fly over its head… and pollinate its hair. To ensure the authenticity of the human experience, Amaya forced herself to laugh next to Paul.

It only had time for one and a half episodes before the light on Amaya’s watch began to flare. Paul began to curse and bellow when it realized that it would have to wait for another session to finish its show. Once the hour was over, it would have to leave, no matter what it was in the middle of. Amaya still patiently listened and slowly guided Paul towards the bed. And even though it was mumbling terrible things under Paul’s breath, Amaya still cradled his head and sang to them until the body was lifeless once again.

It turned out most of the day would be filled with the usual passengers. These she called the addicts. They partook in the more sinful pleasures of human society. Each had its own category depending on its addiction. There were the SPs or “self-pleasurers.” These Pauls would use their stay to have sex and masturbate for the entirety of their premium hour. Honestly, they were the easiest. Besides the beginning, Amaya could simply sit in the other room and wait for the session to be done. The bots would handle the cleanup, and she could sit there and wonder how much pleasure a single person could handle in a day before it turned to pain. Personal experience had taught her that by whatever metric one used to measure pleasure and pain, the answer shrinks over time.

Then there were the slobs. Their addiction was food, and stuffing Paul like a pig after a famine. Their time was spent in the opulent dining room of the resort as Amaya watched endless meals be catered to them. Paul’s body didn’t get fat no matter how much they put inside of it. She once saw a passenger eat three whole lemon iced pound cakes, and the body stayed as immaculate as the day she first saw it. It was the kind of slim and defined only seen in people who get paid for their looks.

Every now and again, there would be actual drug addicts. They weren’t real addicts. It was a premium service that only allowed for the use of low to non-addictive recreational drugs. It was a secret backdoor past time that only the most premium passengers could afford. All of it was hidden just above the digital fireplace.

There were drawers full of LSD, Ecstasy, Psilocybin, DMT, etc. She always thought the idea of having an out-of-body experience within an out-of-body experience to be coldly ironic. But apparently, it's one of those things that only humans have access to, which made certain Pauls far more volatile than she liked. The eleven o’clock Paul was one of these, taking an exceptional amount of DMT tea while she watched.

 Amaya had to remember that these extraterrestrials were simply on vacation, which meant they could do whatever they wanted in a body that was meant to do it. Paul wasn’t specifically human. Just an imitation. The body could do what it wanted without fear of any biological consequence. Still, the sight of Paul with giant reddening eyes and sweets piled on his stomach disgusted her. Another one of those instinctual human reactions.

At two o'clock, Paul awoke for the fifth time today. This one was somewhat odd. Paul seemed slightly put off by her sexual advances. Amaya would go to kiss him, and it would turn away. She’d put a gentle hand on his thigh in bed, and Paul stared as if it didn’t want the hand there. Amaya wondered if she had done something wrong. She went to check her face in a nearby mirror, but it seemed the same to her. Was she making that face again, or was this particular Paul just not attracted to her? There had hardly ever been a Paul who didn’t accept her touch. It was so uncommon that she was sure that sex was the primary feature of her companionship. She was just overreacting. This Paul was simply shy and refused her because they had never experienced something like human touch. She just needed to be a bit more alluring and subtle.

She walked out of the restroom with her silk gown poorly covering her chest. Her arms crossed gently, raising her breasts an inch higher. Paul sat with his hands in his lap, like a quivering child in the principal's office. “Is everything alright, Paul?”

The body looked up at her. “It’s nothing,” Paul said. “It's just... this is all strange to me. In my original body, I was... I was something similar to Earth’s females. This is my first time in a male courier.”

Amaya dropped her arms in some confusion. “A female?” She had never had to consider the sex of the passengers. It was one of those things that she never asked and never wanted to know.

“Umm. Yes, I think... We are the receiver of insemination from the so-called males. Not that I don’t like you, but... could we wait until the end to do the thing? Until I’m used to this form.”

“Of course.” Amaya stepped back into the bathroom without the need to clean herself. When she returned, Paul had managed to dress on its own. She watched it for a time, eyeing for any feminine mannerisms, but the gestures were still too inhuman to consider the realm of modern femininity.

All of the Pauls brought with them the native instincts of their homebody, but still maintained some of the human body's less distinct mannerisms. It was like a rope being constantly yanked by two sides. One human. The other something else. Sometimes all Paul could do was screech and crawl on the floor. Sometimes he looked so human she could forget what was inside. It was all in accordance with the strength of will lying within the husk. Within Paul.

Female Paul caught Amaya staring. “I know it must be strange, but I’m sure there have been stranger creatures within this courier. There are plenty of species that reproduce sexually, you know. I just… some form of curiosity overtook me today.”

“It isn’t strange. I’m sorry, Paul, if I made you feel that way.”

“Paul?” it said. “Oh, right. I was told this courier has a name. I’d rather you not call me that, if possible.”

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but I believe that a human name is essential to the quality of your human experience. Besides, many of the names of other species cannot be translated into my vocabulary, so it would be difficult for me to say,” Amaya explained.

“Oh... Well, I guess I have no choice. Paul, it is then.”

“Would you care to dine with me, Paul?”

“I suppose that would be appropriate. Ehh… What are you doing?”

“I’m fetching your meal for you. It’ll only be a moment.”

“Ah. I thought that was the job for the sentient robots they have running amok in the place.” By the time they were done with that sentence, Amaya was already at the table with a single meal of orange-glazed pork chops and grilled asparagus. “Will you not prepare one for yourself? I know it's customary for couples to eat together at the dinner table.”

“Yes. That’s true, but I have to see many passengers in a day, and so eating a meal with every one of them would be irresponsible to my own health.”

“The other companions don’t seem to take issue with it. Still, you can at least sit so I don’t feel awkward as you tell me why that is.”

Amaya patiently complied. “Well... I’m a bit different from the other companions, much like how you’re different from my usual passengers.”

“You were born in your human body, I know...” Paul passively said. “That’s what makes you so expensive, and that is exactly why I’m here. You’re the only companion, male or female, that is actually what they claim to be and not just another foreign soul in a courier.”

Amaya sat up, preparing herself for some examination that she hadn’t prepared for. From what it sounded like, she was in store for a barrage of questioning by this curious creature. But it hesitated, lost in its examination of her. “So what would you like me to do then?” Amaya asked.

“Umm... I haven’t actually thought that far. I was hoping to just sort of watch you as you lived.”

“If you’d like to see people in their natural lives, then we have a televi—”

“Yes, I know. The television. It's all drama. Unreal. And the real ones only show the most primitive of your beings. Basically, loincloths and pointy sticks. It isn’t what I want to know.”

“What would you like to know then?”

“About you. What you are. And not just biologically. Your essence. Your soul.”

Amaya poured two tall glasses of wine. She assumed this Paul was some researcher from a distant galaxy, overcomplicating humans. But she supposed that in many ways, she was the only person that these extraterrestrials had the opportunity to have a real conversation with. It was too far a distance to travel, and so the courier system was the only reason most even knew Earth existed. If they wanted a life story, Amaya would sit and tell them. It was her job as a companion to do whatever they asked anyway.

So Paul patiently listened as Amaya spilled the generalizations of her childhood. She grew up in southern Ohio, an only child in a middle-class household. Nothing exciting. She played volleyball only because she had the legs and height to do so as a high schooler. Of course, she would have to stop and explain what high school and volleyball were. Meanwhile, the glass of wine was emptied, making them both relatively talkative.

She even let slip her mother’s terminal battle with cancer, which she hadn’t talked about in years. “It runs in the family. Nothing we could do. But it took her quicker than anyone thought.” Paul didn’t even register that it was a terrible thing Amaya mentioned until she explained that her mother had died because of it, and it sent her into a terrible depression right after.

Paul held a fist to his lips after hearing this. “It’s a wonder. So after the death of another, you ceased functioning.”

“Something of the sort.” So much time had passed that Amaya could talk factually about the matter.

“That’s unheard of. Why must you all do everything together? Relying so much on another being seems counter-productive.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’m no philosopher or even a biologist.”

“Even still, everything must be done in groups. From eating to praising your gods.”

“Well... People love. We are creatures meant for love. Loving others far more than ourselves. Doing anything with someone you love is the most wonderful thing there is.” Amaya smiled.

“Hmm... I was beginning to think the human about you was all just a sales pitch,” Paul chuckled. Amaya's cheeks flushed, and she covered her bashful smile. “That’s the most intriguing answer I’ve ever gotten. It sounds as if the body itself is programmed to do such things.”

“Maybe you can tell me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Does your kind not fall in love?”

“Would I stop functioning if someone of my pod ceased to be? Of course not.”

“What if I ceased to be?”

“What?”

“If I died, right in front of you. Or if you had to watch me die every day. Would that make you feel anything?”

“I don’t im... imagine...” It stuttered. Looking to fluster it, Amaya put a hand on Paul’s. Maybe it would see what she meant. Maybe it wasn’t capable in its own body, but Paul’s… Paul’s she knew was capable of so much more than what it was used for. Paul found its sight in her eyes, and she coerced them with her own. She kissed him then. And it was clear that Paul hadn’t expected it. But still, his body didn’t move. No longer repulsed by her touch, Paul accepted her kiss, even deepening it as she drew her body into his.

Once she pulled away, they gazed at each other, wondering what would happen next. But it was nothing as exciting as sex with any lingering passion or even a triumph of Amaya’s will on this creature in Paul’s body. No. Paul simply fell over, smacking his head on the corner of the dining table and sinking to the floor, lifeless. Blood trickled from his hair, and Paul’s breath had gone.

Amaya closed her eyes, touching a finger to the fresh kiss on her lips. Paul’s body lay on the ground, looking as if it had just been murdered. If only it were that simple. Amaya could leave this place and never have to watch the life leave his body again. This Paul. This dead Paul would be the last Paul she would ever have to touch, the last to use her body like a doll and her voice as a placeholder. She could pretend that he was dead and keep it a secret for the rest of her life. If only it were that simple.

The red flash on her watch flared at her side as Paul continued to bleed out on the floor underneath the table. Their time was simply up. The robots came to clean the mess. One flashed a small laser at the side of Paul’s head, and the bloody wound instantly closed. Another came to clean the blood from his hair, and soon it was like the fall had never happened.

Amaya sighed. It was one of the better Pauls. She couldn’t remember the last time she talked like that. But when it asked, so much came spilling out. She found herself hoping that one day it would come to visit her again.

“Just one more today.” She hoisted the lifeless body back onto the bed and redid all of the constraints. She didn’t even bother cleaning herself up. A shower would only sober her up, and she would prefer to keep her slight intoxication for whoever this last Paul turned out to be.

They wasted no time waking him up. And it was back to the usual rough, humiliating sex with a wild animal. Though the humiliation was gone. No human would ever know Amaya was here. No human could know about this resort, and so no human would know about her and these Pauls. Still, there was so much placating herself to the whims of these beings that she felt humiliated. But too much pleasure turns to pain, and too much pain turns to numbness.

This Paul commanded the bots to bring the hot tub to the living room, where they could watch TV in the bubbling water. Amaya accompanied him as usual. This one was a slob, only accepting the most unhealthy of grease and sugar. And they never missed a chance to voice some complaint whenever Amaya brought it to them.

“These damn humans. They are the ugliest creatures I have ever witnessed in all my years of living. If they're going to give me a human woman, then the least they could do is give me one with even a monochrome of beauty. There is no meat on her bones.” Amaya ignored them, continuing to act as the loving companion. Even though it was far beneath the human experience in her opinion.

“I request some wine,” Paul said with the benevolence of a violent dictator.

“Of course, Paul.”

“Why do you insist on calling me that putrid name?”

“It is a part of the human experience, Paul. A human name is...”

“Silence... I will not hear it. None of the other companions have such a rule. You’ll be rid of that ridiculous name when I arrive. You can call me my given name like all the others.”

Amaya stared at him, feeling her smile breaking. She pretended as if she were readjusting her jaw for the momentary reprieve. Then she stood. “It’s my rule, and if you have complaints, then I’m sure management will arrange for you to have another companion. I’ll get you your wine, Paul.” It was the wine on her breath talking, but she didn’t regret it, even after Paul struck her.

Amaya grabbed hold of her reddening cheek, planting a cold eye on Paul as he waited for her to feel sorry. She regained herself before she did anything rash, and the smile returned to her.

“Are you ready for dinner now?”

Paul leered at her. “I’ll have nothing from you. Dinner has nothing to offer me that I cannot receive from my snacks. Now begone, witch.”

“But I must insist,” Amaya said. “Today, we have prepared a special dish fit for kings. Just for you.”

“I wasn’t aware of any such thing before I entered this courier.”

“Yes… It’s an optional challenge. A test of strength. Within some human cultures, this meal is considered a great honor.” She talked and bowed like the servant girls she would see in medieval movies.

“Then how can a great being like myself refuse such a test. I will overcome anything that a human can.” Amaya smiled and went to request such a meal from the digital menu in the dining room. She scrolled down to the screen of special requests and pressed the button for the Carolina Reaper, the spiciest pepper currently known to mankind. It would be a great test of strength, and she was sure there was someplace that did admire people willing to take a bite of the monster. However, she remembered that Paul had a very low tolerance for spicy foods.

She handed it to them on a pristine glass plate, and Paul inhaled it, stem and all. Amaya didn’t expect it to be so easy. As Paul laughed at his triumph, Amaya carefully stepped away, taking the plate back to the dining room to be cleaned.

In the next few moments, Paul began to scream as it tried to scrape the taste of the pepper off of Paul’s tongue. Amaya repressed the urge to laugh as she was still on the clock. Instead, she reassured Paul that this was part of the challenge and there was nothing she could do to help him, despite the unintelligible cries to make it stop. He was leaking out of every hole in his face, and his eyes had shot to a glassy pink. It went on almost the entirety of the hour before Paul regained enough sense to drink some water.

The rest of the time was spent exchanging evil eyes with Amaya until the light on her watch began to flash. Paul stumbled over to the bed, likely thinking that they would never consume human food ever again and cursing Amaya for doing such a thing to him. Before it laid down, Paul hesitated. Its time was up, but it embarrassingly glanced back at Amaya, who had accepted its grudge against her. But Paul had that look on his face—the look that was afraid to admit when he was wrong, but wanted so badly for things to be better between them. Amaya was still on the job, so she pretended as if their day had been full of love and togetherness.

“Ehem,” Paul coughed.

“Yes, dear.”

“Will you... umm... do that thing.”

“Of course.”

She sat up on the bed and beckoned him to lie in her lap.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,” she sang.

“You make me happy when skies are grey.

You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you,

Please don't take my sunshine away.”

That was the last of the day. Now she’d have the night to herself and Paul’s corpse. When her time was out, she had full access to every amenity in the resort. That included the food, wine, hot tub, and drugs. All of which she partook in to reset herself for the next day. A nice red wine with a healthy dose of MDMA to take the load off. It wasn’t the preferred unwinding combination, but ecstasy was the least psychologically binding of the drugs they offered.

The hot tub was moved back to the balcony, and Amaya enjoyed it as she looked over the island with her eyes glazed over. She lifted a hand out of the water and stared at her wedding ring as it glistened in the moonlight. Paul’s body was still behind her, lying lifeless in this little love resort. It all felt imaginary, like she had gone crazy and now lived in a prison in her own head. A prison where Paul would wake up as a different person every hour, and she had no other choice but to endure it for the sake of Paul. It was an endless cycle of waking and sleeping and dying and living. Maybe she was dead, and the idea of being a companion to alien minds was just some form of hell that no one came close to guessing.

Without realizing it, she was back in bed, cradling Paul’s head again with tears in her eyes, rocking him slowly back and forth, singing. It was still his face after all. The face of her beloved. This time, there were no waking eyes to sing to sleep. Just her Paul. And she sang, hoping that somewhere, somehow, he would hear her.

“The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping,

I dreamt I held you in my arms.

When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken,

So I hung my head and cried.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,

You make me happy when skies are grey.

You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you,

Please don't take my sunshine away.”

“Amaya,” The barely waking voice whispered from his mouth. His eyes raised like a slow ray of sunshine, and he smiled at the touch of her tears.

“Paul,” she said, pulling him to her chest and squeezing with every ounce of strength she could, simultaneously trying to choke him and love him. But the voice spoke again.

“Still... no,” Paul said. Amaya pushed him away from her and ejected herself from the bed, clearing her tears. “But you can keep calling me that. Unlike the others, I don’t actually mind.”

“No, thank you…” Amaya didn’t make eye contact. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, we’ve gotten a few complaints. About the whole Paul thing. And an incident involving the pepper.”

“And?”

“Listen, we all appreciate your volunteering to be a companion guide, but once again, I have to remind you that none of our passengers is your Paul. That particular being has been banned from our facilities for all eternity. If you could, please forget they ever existed and stop burdening our passengers with his name. Other than that, you’re doing great work.”

“Is that all?”

“No. I was hoping that you wouldn’t mind my company for a while. It's tough to unwind out there. Even harder to sleep.”

“My workday is over, Eldritch.”

“I won’t touch you,” he said with both hands in the air.

Eldritch was the only alien being who could perfectly mimic human gestures. It strangely put her at ease. Amaya couldn’t remember the last time she talked to someone who wasn’t a foreigner in a foreign body. This time, the foreigner was in a familiar body, which was the closest Paul had looked to human for a long time. But Eldritch still smiled like an alien, never quite able to raise his mouth uniformly. That’s how she could tell the difference. That’s what reminded her to be suspicious of this alien.

Amaya didn’t agree, nor did she shoo the alien away. It was her boss, after all. If it wanted to stick around, she didn’t have the power to stop it. She could only pretend to still have her dignity because it allowed her to.

“Shall we go for a walk?” Eldritch asked.

Amaya obliged, and they stepped outside the room to take a walk over the resort's tropical beach. She found herself often staring at the sky while Eldritch could only gaze at her. “What is your obsession with Paul?”

“Aren’t you being a little too forward, boss? I’ll have to report you to human resources... or is it alien resources you have?”

“Neither... It's only a question, Amaya. Paul was just another passenger, passing himself off as one of you.”

“Paul is one of us. Obviously, he knew that this little island wasn’t the real human experience.”

“It's very contained, but there is a reason these bodies aren’t let off the island.”

“Because my people are a precious sort of entertainment for you. Would hate to ruin that by exposing you aliens to them?”

“No need to be so... you’re so polite with all of the other passengers. Why so hostile with me?”

“Because I’m not paid to be polite to you. You’re the one keeping me here. I don’t want you thinking there’s some Stockholm Syndrome thing going on.”

“Is that true?”

“Of course not. I’m just drunk… and high.” She played up the condition by slurring her words.

“I didn’t take him from you.”

“Never said you did.”

“He was never supposed to be here. Just like you. You should’ve died when the cancer took you.”

“You wonder why I don’t like you?”

“It's just the truth. This whole thing is just a circle of debts, much like god. Those who believe he had given them their lives dedicate their lives to him as penance. Paul stole a life from us. He gave you yours, and now yours is ours.”

“Until the debt is paid.”

“Until the debt is paid… right.”

They continue onward, walking in silence for a while. Eldritch remained cautiously distant while Amaya walked on her toes, waiting for her intoxication to die down. Eldritch watched as he tried to make Paul’s features look dignified. Eventually, Amaya’s tiptoeing tipped her over in the sand, and she fell butt first into a calm wave. Eldritch laughed. Amaya retaliated by throwing water at him.

“Now, Amaya, I’m not the one who made you fall over.”

“But you laughed.”

“I laughed because it was funny.”

“You wouldn’t know funny if it bit you on the ass.”

“Why don’t you try me?”

“Ok… Why can’t a T. rex clap its hands?

“I imagine it's because of the short arms.”

“It's cuz they're extinct, dummy.” Amaya splashed him with another handful of saltwater.

With a burst of energy, Paul leapt into the water with her and began splashing her back. The water fight continued until Paul grabbed Amaya by the wrist to stop an incoming attack, and she inadvertently pulled him on top of her. Staring at her as the ocean water stuck her clothes to the bareness of her skin, Eldritch felt the urge to kiss her. But Amaya saw it coming and turned her head.

“You’re not him,” she said.

“Neither is anyone else.”

“But this wouldn’t mean anything. It would just be betrayal for betrayal's sake.”

“Tell me, Amaya. Is there still an obligation to the body when the mind is gone?”

“It isn’t gone... just somewhere else. It’ll come back. When the debt is paid, it’ll come back.”

Eldritch sat in the sand. Amaya let herself be washed by the calm waters as they flowed under her. “What if I told you that you could leave?” it said. “I know you don’t want to be here, constantly giving yourself to these beings.”

“These beings are you, Eldritch.”

“You know what I meant.”

“So what? I just forget about everything after three years of this and go home without him.”

“It doesn’t have to be without him. I’ve spent more time in this body than Paul ever did. I created it.”

“It isn’t the body that I want.”

“Don’t lie to me. You lay with this body ten times a day, calling it Paul when you know that he’s gone. Forever.”

“Aren’t I your biggest moneymaker? Why would you want me to leave?”

“Because I hate you… I hate that everyone who steps in this body gets you but me when it's mine.”

“Is that you who wants me? Or is it the body?”

“Don’t be silly. Natural instincts developed in a lifetime occur in the mind and not the biology.”

“But what if our biology is built to love. This body is telling you to love me just like mine is telling me to love Paul. There’s nothing we can do for it.”

“Yes, there is… I refuse to let you humans make a fool of me. As you said, you’re our biggest moneymaker. Your debts have been repaid twice over. It has been for a year now. You can leave whenever you like."

Amaya paused, not angry. The joy of those words almost completely overshadowed any contempt for Eldritch taking advantage of her. She stood and grabbed Eldritch by the hand. “Then where’s Paul? When will he come back to me?”

“Never. He is still banned from our facility. And that won’t change.”

“But you own the facility. You can change it. You can undo it... please.”

“Even if I knew where he was, I still won’t just loan him one of my bodies so he can steal it again!” It was yelling, feigning storming off back to her room. Amaya jumped up to follow.

“Well, what if we can buy it?”

“The amount of money that it would require...”

“Is it more than an extra year of service?”

Eldritch didn’t speak, forcing Amaya to wordlessly follow all the way back to the room.

“I’m staying then,” she said once Paul was put back in bed.

“Amaya…”

“Until I can talk to him again. ”

“Listen, what if it doesn’t work the other way around? What if Paul’s love for you is stuck in this body, as you say? What if he isn’t looking to return to you?”

“Then I’ll be here waiting still…” Amaya cradled Eldritch in her arms, and when their eyes met, she kissed him lightly on the lips. There was sorrow in Paul’s eyes. Accompanied by pain, fear, and pity. “So please, Eldritch. If you see him, tell him that. And sing him a song for me.”

Eldritch closed Paul’s eyes. There was no sense of agreement in the expression. It simply closed his eyes to sleep, already determined to do what it had decided to do. Amaya was only human. She couldn’t tell what this Paul was thinking. If it would help her or continue to let her suffer. But her suffering was its suffering because it was Paul’s suffering. The mind and body were two halves of the same soul. She had to believe that. Because her debt wasn’t to Eldritch. It was to Paul. When she put on her wedding band, she promised every day to stay by his side, mind, body, or soul. It didn’t matter which had loved her.

So she patted his head and began singing in hope that somewhere out in the infinite cosmos, her Paul was listening. The song was her prayer to him—that her voice would reach him, and then his voice, his true voice, would reach back to her.

“The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping,

I dreamt I held you in my arms.

When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken,

So I hung my head and cried.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,

You make me happy when skies are grey.

You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you,

Please don't take my sunshine away.

I'll always love you and make you happy,

If you will only say the same…”