I was sitting in a double breasted suit on a nude beach reading Michner’s Texas this morning. Page 732 had me well entranced and the sea breeze cooled my furrowed brow. The day had slipped my soul into an envelope of placid constraint. I hummed a melody-less tune in 9/4-Time and kicked off my shoes, leaving my thin black socks to frolic free in the sand. Life was good. I shut my eyes.
I knew she was approaching, even with my eyes shut. I could smell coconut tanning oil over everything else. I opened my eyes and stared at her. She was a golden bronze color, from teeth to toes. Every inch of her svelte body was the same color. Her hair, her shoulders, even the areolas around her nipples seemed to blend in with the back drop. She sat next to me.
“What’s up,” she asked.
“Not much,” I said, straightening my tie.
The conversation was dead from the first instant. So my mind wandered to more philosophical topics; the weight of the universe, the plight of the lower class, whether or not it bothered her that her loins were buried in sand. Her voice didn’t register until she said one word;
My mind snapped back. “What?”
She tossed her hair and looked indignantly at me. “Hello? Are you, like, of this Earth?”
“Actually, no,” I said as I reopened my book.
She chuckled. “Yeah. Right.”
I dog-earred the page I was reading and looked at her. “No, really. I’m an android from the planet Weengali 6. It’s located on the outer rim of the galaxy you call Andromeda.”
She laughed. “Ha! What a stupid name for a planet.”
My telepathic synapse relays transmitted a message to the mother ship. They surrounded the earth with an amnesia ray, wiping any memory of her existence from the planet and all its beings.
Then I vaporized her and absorbed the burst of life energy into myself.
The sea breeze scattered her molecules around the beach. I closed my book and teleported myself to Madagascar.