A comet’s tale: Three days later

Part three of the long awaited story of a martian sent to earth from Mars on a mysterious mission continues

The older woman’s house sat in a row of identical houses, each the same square shape, same tan colour. It reminded her of the uniformity of the bunkers back home on Mars, the same way Eileen reminded her of the Elders. 

     The Elders were great teachers, they were the only caretakers she had ever known, so it was easy to trust this human elder. Eileen’s face was marked by time, each wrinkle etched into her skin evidence of her wisdom. She could learn so much about being human from someone who had been human so long.  

     Humans really cared about comfort; most of Eileen’s floors were covered in carpet, and pillows and quilts were strewn over every seat, things she had never had on Mars. The bed she was given was more comfortable than any she had ever slept on before. For once her body let itself relax, she never realized how much it longed for these luxuries.  

     Yet Eileen never simply enjoyed the coziness. The woman was always moving about, always doing something with her hands. She spent half the day in the kitchen, cooking meals with food she had never heard of on Mars, and the other half behind her house in her own patch of nature.  

     The backyard garden was beautiful, full of vegetables and flowers in all different hues. Her favourite were the flowers. The Elders taught them about when Mars’ surface had been like Earth’s, and showed them sketches of what some plants had looked like. The sketch that had always been her favourite was of a purple flower with upright and cascading petals. Eileen had several.  

     After a few days, they had become accustomed to each other’s company. She still struggled to form human words and so barely spoke, but Eileen didn’t mind. There was one question Eileen repeatedly asked her, however. What was her name?  

     This was where the human differed from the Elders. She had only ever been given a number, no name. It was easier to navigate life in the bunkers that way. But the more she was asked, the more she wanted one.  

      She helped with the garden in exchange for staying there, though she had to be taught most of the basics. Eileen watched her carefully and could see how her eyes lit up each time they gazed upon those purple flowers.  

     “That’s your name, isn’t it?” The woman asked, pointing towards the flower. “Iris.”  

      She didn’t know what to say.  

     “I’ve always liked them. Y’know they say Iris was a goddess who carried messages between heaven and earth.” Eileen’s stories were always interesting. Each short story revealed little bits of human beliefs that she wanted to know more about; like what was heaven? Maybe heaven was a planet even farther than Mars.  

     “Iris.” She copied the sound, uttering her name for the first time.  


This article was originally printed in Volume 24, issue 5 on January 9, 2025.

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