Mjly is Yljm's love life. She is her sisters, hermothers, herselves and her ancestors. But poor old Yljmcan never be a mother or a sister—just himself!
lonesome hearts
By RUSS WINTERBOTHAM
It seems unnecessary to saythat my story began a long timeago, but I do not intend to besubtle. I am not clever and my lyingis unpolished, almost amateurish.So I certainly could not besubtle, which requires both clevernessand an ability to tell the truthand a lie in the same breath.
Let us turn back the clock a fewages. I was lying in the sun thinkingof love. I understand that youhuman beings have an aversion tobiological discussion, so I will notgo into detail. But I must remindyou that my love life is quite differentfrom yours, for I am fromanother planet. At the time underdiscussion, I was most deeply inlove.
My heart's desire had no shape,the lovely creature. She had no intelligence,the divine soul. But shewas the greatest bit of protoplasmin any galaxy you could name. Byour standards, I probably might becalled handsome. I was young andhealthy. I had all of my genes andchromosomes. My color was thedirty green that is associated withbeauty.
The sun warmed my body andthe tidal undulation of my planet'ssurface rocked me gently. Andthen she came into my life. Shefloated gently in the breeze, herdainty figure held aloft by a merehint of levitation. Sparks of staticelectricity shot from her tender ciliaso brightly that I was forced to exudea layer of protective fibre toprotect my visual buds. She suckeda deep breath of cyanic gas into herpulmonary pouch and spoke to mesweetly with a voice like distantthunder.
"My dear Yljm, the world iscoming to an end."
I could not believe her, for shehad no intelligence. She only lovedto talk. "Perhaps," I said, "but nottoday."
"Very soon, then," said she. Hername was Mjly.
I watched her with patronizingamusement. The static electricityshowed that she was nervous andupset, but people often get nervousand upset over trivial matters."Now, how," I reasoned, "could ourworld come to an end? The otherplanet has gone on for thousandsof years without colliding with us.We circle it, in fact."
"No," Mjly said, "that is not ourdoom. Actually our world will notcease to exist. Life will end here,that is all."
"Ah," I said. "Our atmosphereis escaping into space." I sucked air,viciously. True, the air was thin.True, the atmosphere was escaping.But there would be breathableamounts for many thousands ofcenturies yet to come.
"Not the air. The food is allgone. Things we eat have ceased toexist."
I levitated myself and looked outover the throbbing land. A fewyears ago, this land had been coveredwith vegetation. I had cometo take vegetation so much forgranted that I'd ceased to notice it.Now it was gone. There were noround fruits growing from tendergrasses, no tubers dangling fromthe fungus trees, no legume vinessprawling over the rocks. Everywherelay desert, barren dunesshaking their crests with tidal motion.
I lowered myself to the groundand dug my big fibrosities intothe sod. No green leaves grewthere beneath the surface. The soilwas dead. "This will seriously interferewith our future, Mjly," I said.
"We might eat each other," shereplied, "but then there would beno one left."
"No one? There are manyothers here."
"The others are dyi