The Host_ A Novel - Stephenie Meyer [92]
I did not get bored watching him.
After maybe an hour or two, he started looking at me again, flickering glances. His lips opened a few times, and then he thought better of whatever he was going to say.
I laid my chin on my knees and waited as he struggled. My patience was rewarded.
“That planet you were coming from before you were in Melanie,” he finally said. “What was it like there? Was it like here?”
The direction of his thoughts caught me off guard. “No,” I said. With only Jamie here, it felt right to speak normally instead of whispering. “No, it was very different.”
“Will you tell me what it was like?” he asked, cocking his head to one side the way he used to when he was really interested in one of Melanie’s bedtime stories.
So I told him.
I told him all about the See Weeds’ waterlogged planet. I told him about the two suns, the elliptical orbit, the gray waters, the unmoving permanence of roots, the stunning vistas of a thousand eyes, the endless conversations of a million soundless voices that all could hear.
He listened with wide eyes and a fascinated smile.
“Is that the only other place?” he asked when I fell silent, trying to think of anything I’d missed. “Are the See Weeds”-he laughed once at the pun-“the only other aliens?”
I laughed, too. “Hardly. No more than I’m the only alien on this world.”
“Tell me.”
So I told him about the Bats on the Singing World-how it was to live in musical blindness, how it was to fly. I told him about the Mists Planet-how it felt to have thick white fur and four hearts to keep warm, how to give claw beasts a wide berth.
I started to tell him about the Planet of the Flowers, about the color and the light, but he interrupted me with a new question.
“What about the little green guys with the triangle heads and the big black eyes? The ones who crashed in Roswell and all that. Was that you guys?”
“Nope, not us.”
“Was it all fake?”
“I don’t know-maybe, maybe not. It’s a big universe, and there’s a lot of company out there.”
“How did you come here, then-if you weren’t the little green guys, who were you? You had to have bodies to move and stuff, right?”
“Right,” I agreed, surprised at his grasp of the facts at hand. I shouldn’t have been surprised-I knew how bright he was, his mind like a thirsty sponge. “We used our Spider selves in the very beginning, to get things started.”
“Spiders?”
I told him about the Spiders-a fascinating species. Brilliant, the most incredible minds we’d ever come across, and each Spider had three of them. Three brains, one in each section of their segmented bodies. We’d yet to find a problem they couldn’t solve for us. And yet they were so coldly analytical that they rarely came up with a problem they were curious enough to solve for themselves. Of all our hosts, the Spiders welcomed our occupation the most. They barely noticed the difference, and when they did, they seemed to appreciate the direction we provided. The few souls who had walked on the surface of the Spiders’ planet before implantation told us that it was cold and gray-no wonder the Spiders only saw in black and white and had a limited sense of temperature. The Spiders lived short lives, but the young were born knowing everything their parent had, so no knowledge was lost.
I’d lived out one of the short life terms of the species and then left with no desire to return. The amazing clarity of my thoughts, the easy answers that came to any question almost without effort, the march and dance of numbers were no substitute for emotion and color, which I could only vaguely understand when inside that body. I wondered how any soul could be content there, but the planet had been self-sufficient for thousands of Earth years. It was still open for settling only because the Spiders reproduced so quickly-great sacs of eggs.
I started to tell Jamie how the offensive had been launched here. The Spiders were our best engineers-the ships they made for us danced nimbly and undetectably through the stars. The Spiders