....What do you do in a situation that no human has ever experienced before? I sure as hell didn't know, but while I stood there like a dunce, the alien moved its upper trunk and switched its gaze toward the big screen on the wall. There was no possible way to gauge its reaction. All I could do was try to picture how a human from another epoch might act in a similar situation, say like a Cro-Magnon with a time traveler dropped in front of its cave, and even then the circumstances could only be remotely compared. They would at least have their humanity in common, while we were two wildly different species. I might have been nothing more than technologically advanced kibble to this thing.

Luckily for me, the alien took charge. It levered itself upright and leaned against the cushioned backrest of the couch. Its gaze left the screen and traversed the room in a slow arc, as if studying each object in the room--including me, for that's where its eyes rested after the circuit around the room. Only momentarily though, for then it pointed one of its fingers--it had six on each hand, along with two opposable thumbs--and the box sitting on the floor opened just as it had done earlier, prior to the healing of the amputated foot. The gun idea was still twitching at the back of my mind as an inch-thick fiber uncoiled from the depths of the box. The fiber was topped by a small globe no more than a couple of inches in diameter. Evidently it was some kind of interpretive device, for the alien began speaking to it and it answered, but in a gabble that made no sense at all to me.

This went on for several moments while I brought my fresh coffee over to the easy chair and set it on the side table. I started to sit down but then wondered if my alien guest might be hungry or thirsty. I went over to the refrigerator and poured a glass of cold water. Very slowly, so as not to alarm it, I crossed the room and held out the glass.

There was no hesitation on its part. It took the glass and raised it to the lipless, bifurcated mouth. A tongue as pink as my own lapped at the water at first, then somehow formed a tube and suctioned the rest of it up. It held out the glass to me, a clear signal that it wanted more. I set the glass on the coffee table and fetched the water pitcher. I demonstrated how to pour, probably an unnecessary gesture. I watched as it drank almost the whole pitcher of water. After that it placed its mouth over the globe at the end of the upright fiber that had risen from the box. It made swallowing motions, leading me to think it was probably taking in some nourishment, or possibly medicine. When it seemed to be satisfied, I decided to get busy.

"Kyle," I said, touching my chest like Tarzan as I uttered my name.

It repeated my action and said, "Cresperian", speaking slowly. If it had said, "Take me to your leader" instead, I would have headed for the nearest funny farm and checked myself in faster than a cat having sex. At that point a piece of useless knowledge popped into my head about tomcats. I was lost on the thought that a tomcat has barbs on its penis and ejaculates in less than ten seconds. Then I cringed, thinking about the sight of a poor pussycat being mounted. I've got more useless facts like that running around in my mind than are in Wikipedia. Gwen used to show me off at parties, having people ask me odd questions, the odder the better. Sometimes stress causes nonsense like that to just pop to the front of my brain. Perhaps I developed it early on as some sort of coping mechanism to make up for being shy.

"Kyle." The alien snapped me out of my wandering trivial pursuit by pointing in my direction and repeating my name.

I didn't intend to try putting over the fact that humans usually went by two, and sometimes three names, but even so I confused it. By the time I realized it was speaking of species while I had given my individual name, it took several minutes and finally showing it a picture of a crowd before it got the idea. After that the session went easier, even though I learned later that they had no permanent names of their own, but changed their designation as they changed professions or specialties. Nevertheless, we began making rapid progress, I by talking and demonstrating, and it by what turned out to be an eidetic memory and use of its boxed assistant that seemed to have as many functions as the contents of a woman's handbag, maybe more.

Time passed and eventually I played out, while it appeared content to continue the language and culture lessons indefinitely. It was midnight by then. We hadn't gotten around to discussing sleep but I was really feeling the need. Finally I hit on a bright idea. I had already managed to explain the idea of what a computer was, so I showed it the basics on my spare (not being willing to risk a neophyte with the main one). It caught on quickly, and we had already gone over the association between words and the text in books. I left it with a dictionary, a connection to one of the simpler encyclopedias on the net and a general science site to play with, and Google, and then I pointed out the bathroom in case it had needs along those lines. I lay down on the couch, instead of my bed, to sleep. I wanted be nearby in case it needed me.

For the time being I was calling it Jerry, for no particular reason other than it sounded like the first couple of syllables of what it gave as its designation when we decided it needed a name in English, and it seemed satisfied with the shortened form. After I'd sleepily watched Jerry for a while, I thought he could navigate by himself (herself? We hadn't gotten into that yet, but I decided on him for the time being) and closed my eyes at last. Just as I was dozing off I heard a cat "raoow" out behind the shed, causing me to dream of an alien tomcat mounting a poor little kitty.

(Skip).....

"Hmm." That must be a nice arrangement, I thought to myself. One sex just to have the babies while the other two have all the fun. Of course, I had no idea of their sexual practices at the time, or even if they had sex in the fashion we did. For certain I could detect nothing at Jerry's crotch that looked anything like genitalia. Anyway, his sexual organs didn't necessarily have to be placed like ours. His outward appearance was sort of like a cartoon animal--sexless. And who knew what he had hiding under that pelt?

He must have taken my little utterance as a signal to continue with the subject, for then he said, "I've already instituted the necessary biomolecular and genetic revisions of my structure to become female. However, if that is unsatisfactory to you, I can reverse the process with little problem at this stage."

I was curious, I'll admit. Besides, men are always thinking about sex. "Why did you decide to start the change now, on a strange planet and in what must be an even stranger environment for you? Or is it something that happens automatically?"

"Oh, no, Kyle. Long ago we progressed to a stage of biotechnology where the changes may be done at will. Of course we don't usually switch back and forth very often. Our life spans are extremely long compared to yours, so there's no necessity for hurry in most matters."

"Of course not," I said, and immediately hoped he hadn't picked up on the sarcasm. Damn it, he could have gone all day without saying that. The fact that we had to die was one of my pet peeves. At the very least, I thought our lifetimes were far too short. I hated the thought of death, the negation of my ego, and being non-religious, I had no anticipation of an afterlife. And while I'm still relatively young, I can remember how bitterly resentful my Dad had been as his life neared its end, not only because he knew he was going to die, but also at all the aches and pains that old age entails. And he didn't believe in an afterlife either. Frankly, I doubt that most people really, deep down, believe in a heaven, or they wouldn't struggle so to keep on living, even in pain and misery and conditions where death should seem welcome if they really thought there was something nice waiting afterward. And just look at how we misbehave. Would we really act the way we do if we thought our chances of going to heaven were based on our actions while alive? Hell no, we wouldn't.

I shook my head to get the random thoughts out of my mind. "So I take it you're male now. Will you look the same after you change to a female or will the differences be apparent, like our sexual characteristics?"

If an alien with a face like a cross between a cat and an owl could look troubled, Jerry did. I apologized, thinking I shouldn't have raised the issue so soon. "I'm sorry, Jerry. I think I must have troubled or embarrassed you. I didn't intend to." Damn my big mouth. Why can't I ever learn to keep it shut?

"It isn't that, Kyle. You've mistaken my meaning, most likely from my incomplete comprehension of your language and culture. I'm becoming a female because I thought that would please you, since you're alone--that is, you have no companion present. Wife? Partner?"

"I was married," I told him. "My wife died in an accident several months ago. If you're becoming a female simply to please me.well, I don't see what difference it would make. I'm sure I could continue to relate to you in your present form just as well as whatever you look like as a female."

A long moment of silence ensued and again I thought I had said something wrong.

"I see that I still have failed to make myself understood. I apologize for that. What my transition means is that when it is complete I will look like a human female. In fact, in all respects I will be able to function as a human female, retaining only my perceptive sense and my knowledge."