Once only crumbs are left on both our plates, we sit in silence, the only sounds being the lively calls of the avian animals outside. The silence is not uncomfortable.
“Steell ungry?” she asks me, breaking the quiet. I shake my head in negation and watch as she wordlessly gathers the dishes.
As she walks to the cooking area, I turn in my seat and watch as she quickly cleans up the area. I am used to being alone, so it is strange to share space with another. It’s not unpleasant, just strange. I wish my translator worked so that we could truly communicate.
Once Leelee finishes her cleanup, she returns to where I wait. Looking around as if she doesn’t know what to do with herself, she walks over to the fire and pokes at it for a moment with a preoccupied air. As she leans closer to the fire, the light flickers over her thick chestnut curls, the flames reflecting in her hazel eyes.
“Wat da ell du we du now?” Leelee mumbles to herself.
“Leelee?” I say, interrupting her talk.
When she turns, giving me her attention, I point towards the washroom. I mimic pushing the lever that removes waste in her sanitation system. I carefully keep from gesturing to my genitals since that seems to cause her distress. Leelee is intelligent enough that I believe she will understand my meaning without needing to cause her embarrassment.
Understanding lights up Leelee’s eyes and she nods and comes over to help me. Once I am on my feet, I find that I can make it to the washroom unassisted. I try to wave Leelee off, but she still hovers at my elbows as if she plans to catch me if I fall. I would crush her under my weight, so I make sure to be careful on my walk down the hall. I close the washroom door on Leelee’s concerned face, the thump echoing my sudden decision to refuse her well-meaning presence as I relieve myself. I smile as I listen to Leelee grumble on the other side of the door, but she respects my wish and doesn’t reopen the door.
When I finish using the waste disposal system, I take a moment to clean myself up. I’m pleased that Leelee did a good enough job washing me yesterday that the stink from the human military facility no longer clings to my skin.
I swing the washroom door open, instantly catching sight of Leelee waiting for me. A soft smile pulls at her lips but worry lingers in her eyes. She holds up a small, long-handled brush and offers it to me. I try to decipher her intentions as she extends the object to me.
“Heere,” she offers. Doing my best to keep any trace of suspicion from my features, I accept the object.
Leelee picks up another matching brush from the washroom counter. As soon as she picks up a small tube and squeezes a dollop of white paste onto the brush, a strong scent reaches my nose. It’s not unpleasant but it still tickles my nose.
As soon as Leelee brings the brush to her mouth, I realize that it is a teeth cleaning apparatus.
Once she finishes scrubbing her teeth, she spits a frothy residue into the wash basin and rinses it away. It is certainly a primitive way to maintain oral hygiene, but I am thankful for anything at this point.
Nodding my understanding, I follow her demonstration. The taste is potent, and the sensation somewhat bizarre, yet not unpleasant. It is the first time that I have felt truly clean since I first arrived on this planet.
Leelee watches me with a bright smile on her face, her eyes glossy with an emotional sentiment that makes my throat tight. “Gud,” she says softly, the delight palpable in her voice. I spit out the froth that had formed in my mouth. Leelee hands me a small cloth to wipe my mouth.
“Thank you, Leelee,” I manage to utter, my tone threaded with gratitude.
Leelee gives me another bright smile and then backs up out of the washroom to allow me to exit. I start to follow her but wince when I put too much pressure on my ankle.
“Need elp?” Leelee asks, moving forward to offer support. I hesitate before accepting her assistance, uneasy with her proximity but aware of my weakened state.
Our steps are slow and measured as we move to the main room I’ve been mostly occupying since I woke here. It is a relatively comfortable seating area with soft furnishings. As we walk into the room, I notice a wooden checkered board placed on a table. It appears simplistic in nature, with tiny carved figures meticulously arranged in rows. Something about the arranged figures feels vaguely familiar.
“What is this?” I ask, gesturing towards the board layout.
“Datz ches,” Leelee offers in return. Her voice holds a lilt of enthusiasm, her eyes lively at my interest in the board.
Once we reach the sofa, she helps me lower myself onto it. Relief washes over me as my aching body sinks into the soft leather. I pushed myself harder than I should’ve because I wanted to show Leelee that I could get to the washroom independently. Usually, I know better than to let my ego dictate my actions.
Leelee moves to retrieve the board, bringing it over for me to inspect.
She sets the board on the table in front of us and begins pointing out the carved pieces. I notice that there are two matching sets only differentiated by a difference in color. “Datz de keeng, de kween, beeshups, nietz, rukz, and dose er pawnz.”
I eye the pieces carefully, memorizing the names. With gestures and words, Leelee shows me that each carved piece moves across the board in specific ways. She then goes around to the table’s far side and pushes it closer to me. She grabs a chair and drags it over, sitting across the table from me with the ‘ches’ between us. She points to the carved pieces closer to her and says, “Leelee’s”. Then she points to the ones near me and says, “Ravok’s”.
Leelee starts moving the pieces, each side taking a turn. I watch as she uses one of her beeshups to land on the space one of my pawnz occupies. She removes my pawn from the board and sets it to the side.
It’s a simulated battle.
I’m immediately intrigued. Leelee demonstrates how the simulation works, moving more pieces and having one of my carved avatars defeat one of hers. The battle seems to be over when the ‘keeng’ is defeated. I spent much time in my youth being trained in battle tactics using advanced simulators, but it is clear that although this is a primitive version of the same, it is still a viable tool for teaching strategy and critical thinking.
“Ches esa game,” Leelee explains.
On its surface, this ‘game’ might appear simple, rudimentary even, but something about it suggests depth and strategic complexity. I’m a bit impressed.
I indicate to Leelee that I understand what she is trying to show me and wave my fingers to show her that I want to try. As she replaces her pieces to their original starting spots, I mimic her actions, carefully placing them in their respective positions opposite hers. A flicker of surprise brightens her eyes when I adjust my side of the board to match hers perfectly, signifying my understanding. The corners of her mouth lift into a tight smile.
As the cabin brightens with the day, we slowly start our first simulation. Occasionally I move my piece in a way that is against the rules and Leelee has to correct me. But I quickly find myself locked in a battle of wits with my human caretaker.
It doesn’t take long before Leelee is able to defeat my keeng, but her pleased grin and the light in her pretty eyes tell me that she’s impressed with my play.
We quickly reset the board. I recalibrate myself, shrugging my shoulders and preparing myself for battle. Going over my strategy in my mind.
I sit back in my chair, watching Leelee make her first move. Will she try the same moves as the previous game or will she change her strategy? A few moves in, I see that she is being more aggressive, matching my energy. A shift happens, then. I look at her, her calm demeanor at odds with her sharp mind.
There is something oddly soothing about this game. Under the faint glow of the morning light, I watch Leelee’s expression shift from surprise to narrow-eyed focus. The strangest sensation settles under my sternum, and I wonder if the egz Leelee fed me are giving me indigestion.
As we play bout after bout of ches, Leelee continues to surprise me. It’s strange and unexpected to see her skillfully manipulating this battle simulator, deftly maneuvering the pieces. She has the mind, the intuition, and the agility of a general. It belies her tender nature, her aura radiating with compassion and care.
Seeing Leelee like this, as a tactician, creates a severe juxtaposition to the image I have formed of her. However, the thought of Leelee preparing for a battle with a weapon in her hand doesn’t sit right. It feels wrong to associate her with conflict and violence when all she embodies is healing and nurture.
Yet, here she is, conquering the imaginary battlefield with military-like precision, capturing my pieces one by one. I’m at once disturbed and intrigued by this strange amalgamation of her – the healer with the heart of a warrior. The game is on, the battlefield ready. Ches, she calls it – a simplified simulated battle and she stands victorious. Her prowess in the match elicits a newfound respect, an altered perspective. Leelee, as I see her now, is not just a healer. She’s a strategist, a thinker, and a nurturer – a trinity of virtues I didn’t think possible in one being. And the question arises – what other mysteries does she still hold?
