Many Happy Returns

I can’t sleep. It’s the day before my birthday, and every inch of me is screaming with anxiety. I remember how birthday’s used to be, when I was a child. They were really exciting, just the idea of getting another year older, the hope that somehow now I was 6, 7, 8, 9 meant that the world would be different. I would be different. And cake! Birthday cakes baked at home, topped in runny icing and sprinkles with a few wonky candles on the top. It was the best tasting cake ever because it was baked with love.
That was then; this is now. I’m old enough now that each birthday brings with it a slight decline. As a woman, I reached my sexual peak at 35, by then I’d had two children and been married for 9 years. It’s not Romeo and Juliet, but then I think that’s a good thing. They both died at the end, didn’t they.
For a woman, ageing has always been a problem. Even before the Eopi arrived, our society didn’t want to know about the effect of years on the female form. We were told to keep weight off, tighten our skin, dye our hair, remain impossibly unchanged. But there’s no amount of moisturiser that will make a difference tomorrow.
I’m grateful to the Eopi, truly. I voted for their governance and I stand by that decision today. The price we have to pay for all they’ve done for us is a fair one, I’m not complaining about the bargain. It’s just…the thought of it repulses me.
One of the things I hated about being pregnant was the weirdness of having another life inside me. A parasite that took me over, swirling in my belly, altering my chemical balance and, as it grew, my centre of gravity. I was glad when labour was over, the cord was cut and my children became independent beings. That was something I was willing to go through for my family, but to be a host to an alien? Ugh. It just makes me shudder.
But, tomorrow is my birthday, which means I have to go to the nearest ship for a body scan. It’s still an incredible experience, going to see the ships. They don’t look quite real, it’s something to do with the way their materials, from their dimension, interacts with ours. I can’t explain it, I just know they look like a special effect in one of the old Sci Fi films. Like they’ve been stuck on afterwards.
The Eopi are so beautiful. I doubt I’ll see one, though. They’ve trained humans to do body scans and things like that now, it made it easier for people to accept. There’s less suspicion that they’ve tampered with the results, if a human does them. It feels less like an abduction and more like…well, I don’t know. I might find out tomorrow, I suppose.
I’m not just panicking for no reason. I’ve got a family history of early breast cancer, you see, so there’s a better than average chance for my age that they’ll find something and offer me a symbiont to fix it. They might offer me one anyway, they did last time. A preventative measure, they said. I refused. I’ll be very grateful, when the time comes, I’m sure but not yet. Not yet.
Some people don’t take to it at all. They’re traumatised. Can’t live with an alien being attached to them. They monitor for that now, after the first few fatalities. It wasn’t good for anybody to see people trying to tear their symbiont out, or blowing themselves up to make a point. It’s a one way process, you see. Once you have one, that’s it. The two of you have to live together for the rest of your lives, which are guaranteed to be long, of course, because that’s what the symbiont does. It heals.
I don’t think I’ll be that bad. I hope not. I mean, I don’t like the idea of it, of some alien being inside me, changing my body but at least it will for a good reason. Like pregnancy. The symbiont will eat my cancer, if I get it, and I’ll give it a safe place to live.
It’ll mean more contact with the Eopi. Once you have a symbiont you have to go for regular scans, and harvesting of the ‘Sali’, the honey like substance the symbionts produce. It’s a nutrient that the Eopi need to survive. Another chance to see them up close; they’re so beautiful. Sort of translucent, like dancing curtains of mist. Their touch sort of passes through you, and their voices are so, so beautiful. Like whale song. They’re like angels. They really are.
The world was in such a mess before they arrived, so much hatred, so much pollution. Greed and injustice everywhere, my husband and I would turn the news off because we couldn’t bear it. That’s why we voted for Governance. Our leaders were so corrupt, it just felt like you couldn’t trust anybody. Then here came these beautiful, incredible beings that just lifted your spirits to be near them. As soon as they sang, we just all knew it was going to be OK.
They promised to heal our planet, heal us, to regulate the climate and make the earth green and bountiful for everyone. Everyone. All they asked in return was that they make our decisions, represent us to the other dimensions. Oh and there was the small matter of them needing Sali, which meant they needed hosts but…well that meant healing. You can’t grumble really, can you?
People do, of course. That’s human nature for you.
There are people that say once you’ve got a symbiont that you’re different. Personality changes, things like that. I’ve got a friend whose husband was the nicest man you could wish to meet, really loved her, but once he’d had his symbiont in he just couldn’t keep it in his pants. They split up. The Eopi explained that he’d had a brain tumor, which had kept his libido in check. Once it was cured…well, the best was unleashed. I don’t know though. I just worry that I’ll go away tomorrow and it won’t exactly be me who comes back.
So…yes. Tomorrow is my birthday. Many happy returns, and all that! I’ll get up and have a nice breakfast with the family, kiss the kids and tell them I love them. Just in case. Then I’ll go for my scan.
Wish me luck?