Genesis

Part 6

The Nameless Man

Everything hurt. From the grit beneath me to the warm liquid lapping at me, I wanted to scream as even light made contact with my skin, but my throat hurt even more. Someone touched my shoulder and I blacked out at the pain.

I woke in darkness, cooler and less painful than daylight. Rain pattered down on my burning skin, almost soothing compared to what I remembered from my first awakening earlier.

Fingers touched my face. A deep, musical voice asked, "Do you require sustenance? Your body must repair."

I pried my eyes open. They felt gritty from salt and ash, summoning tears whose purpose was to flush these intruders from my eyes. They were not a sign of weakness but utility.

"Are you in pain?" she asked.

"Yes," I replied, my voice sounding as gritty as my eyes. I opened my mouth wide to receive the rain, hoping it might moisten my throat to facilitate speech.

"How do you repair? Instruct me so that I may assist." Her voice sounded uncertain as her face peered down at me.

I stared back up at her. "I do not know."

Her eyes widened, so they seemed as big as the sun that had forced my eyes shut earlier. "How can you not know?"

I felt amusement. "I don't know." I looked past her to the myriad stars spread across the sky. "Nor do I know these stars."

"But you must! This is my first planetary exploration – my first time on the surface since I took to the stars! I do not know what to do and the ship…they are not speaking to me." She looked uncomfortable, as if this lack of communication bothered her.

My amusement increased. "Ah, fallen from grace, have you? What did you do? Consume all the ship's intoxicants and seduce the captain? Or the captain's partner?"

"I did not fall!" she replied hotly. "You fell from the sky. Do you not remember?"

"No. I remember…nothing," I admitted. "Only waking up here."

"Your name. Surely you must remember your name," she persisted.

I thought hard, but came up with nothing. "No, I don't remember any names, either. Not yours and not mine."

"You must have a name! How else can we tell each other apart when we are between stars?" she insisted.

I shrugged. "I can tell just fine. The burned, red body that hurts is mine and the perfect body without a hair out of place is yours."

She looked lost. "I meant…what should I call you?"

"What should I call you?" I countered.

"I am…Chava. It means breath, for I can breathe where others cannot," she admitted. She pressed her lips together, lowering her eyebrows. "Until you remember your name or finish repairing, I will call you Adem. It means…"

"Red man." I smiled.

"The ship will speak to me again. It must. This storm must be making communication difficult. We must wait for it to pass and request extraction." She didn't sound very sure.

"And what should we do while we wait for the storm to end? The only man and woman on a new planet?" I asked.

She simply shook her head. "I do not know."

"I have a few ideas," I began, hoping the storm would last some time.