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    Exile from Space
    Exile from Space
    Exile from Space
    Ebook54 pages54 minutes

    Exile from Space

    By Judith Merril

    2.5/5

    ()

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    About this ebook

    “They” worried about the impression she’d make. Who could imagine that she’d fall in love, passionately, the way others of her blood must have done?
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherWilder Publications, Inc.
    Release dateSep 9, 2016
    ISBN9781515406419
    Exile from Space

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    2.5/5

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    • 2/5
      Soft science fiction romance in the style of 3rd Rock from the Sun. A young lady learns about life on Earth, wonders about how humans society, and falls in love. A bit dated, but with non-dated elements which parallel with adolescence. Much prefer Merril's other short stories, That Only a Mother and Dead Center.

    Book preview

    Exile from Space - Judith Merril

    Exile from Space

    by Judith Merril

    © 2016 Positronic Publishing

    Cover Image © Can Stock Photo Inc. / digitalstorm

    Positronic Publishing

    PO Box 632

    Floyd VA 24091

    ISBN 13: 978-1-5154-0641-9

    First Positronic Publishing Edition

    10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

    Exile from Space

    by Judith Merril

    They worried about the impression she’d make. Who could imagine that she’d fall in love, passionately, the way others of her blood must have done?

    Who was this strange girl who had been born in this place—and still it wasn’t her home . . . ?

    I don’t know where they got the car. We made three or four stops before the last one, and they must have picked it up one of those times. Anyhow, they got it, but they had to make a license plate, because it had the wrong kind on it.

    They made me some clothes, too—a skirt and blouse and shoes that looked just like the ones we saw on television. They couldn’t make me a lipstick or any of those things, because there was no way to figure out just what the chemical composition was. And they decided I’d be as well off without any driver’s license or automobile registration as I would be with papers that weren’t exactly perfect, so they didn’t bother about making those either.

    They were worried about what to do with my hair, and even thought about cutting it short, so it would look more like the women on television, but that was one time I was way ahead of them. I’d seen more shows than anyone else, of course—I watched them almost every minute, from the time they told me I was going—and there was one where I’d seen a way to make braids and put them around the top of your head. It wasn’t very comfortable, but I practiced at it until it looked pretty good.

    They made me a purse, too. It didn’t have anything in it except the diamonds, but the women we saw always seemed to carry them, and they thought it might be a sort of superstition or ritual necessity, and that we’d better not take a chance on violating anything like that.

    They made me spend a lot of time practicing with the car, because without a license, I couldn’t take a chance on getting into any trouble. I must have put in the better part of an hour starting and stopping and backing that thing, and turning it around, and weaving through trees and rocks, before they were satisfied.

    Then, all of a sudden, there was nothing left to do except go. They made me repeat everything one more time, about selling the diamonds, and how to register at the hotel, and what to do if I got into trouble, and how to get in touch with them when I wanted to come back. Then they said good-bye, and made me promise not to stay too long, and said they’d keep in touch the best they could. And then I got in the car, and drove down the hill into town.

    I knew they didn’t want to let me go. They were worried, maybe even a little afraid I wouldn’t want to come back, but mostly worried that I might say something I shouldn’t, or run into some difficulties they hadn’t anticipated. And outside of that, they knew they were going to miss me. Yet they’d made up their minds to it; they planned it this way, and they felt it was the right thing to do, and certainly they’d put an awful lot of thought and effort and preparation into it.

    If it hadn’t been for that, I might have turned back at the last minute. Maybe they were worried; but I was petrified. Only of course, I wanted to go, really. I couldn’t help being curious, and it never occurred to me then that I might miss them. It was the first time I’d ever been out on my own, and they’d promised me, for years and years, as far back as I could remember, that some day I’d go back, like this, by myself. But . . . .

    Going back, when you’ve been away long enough, is not so much a homecoming as a dream deja vu. And for me, at least, the dream was not entirely a happy one. Everything I saw or heard or touched had a sense of haunting familiarity, and yet of wrongness, too—almost a nightmare feeling of the oppressively inevitable sequence of events,

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