Chapter 4
Okay, thought Sam, so this is a new one.
As he emerged into the dark night from the tepee, several flashlights shone into his eyes, obscuring his view of just how many of these hippies had gathered to meet what they kept calling a ‘star child.’
He gave a sheepish wave to the fawning crowd, and found himself navigating a sea of hands reaching out to him, tugging on his clothes and caressing his skin.
He didn’t know how to handle this one bit. He had tried to brush it all off as a hallucination caused by the drugs they were all clearly doing, but these hippies were quite insistent that he was no longer whoever ‘Richie’ was. The identity of the man he’d leaped into was a complete mystery to Sam, of course, so there was no way he was going to be able to convince these people he was still the man he was pretending to be. He didn’t so much as have a wallet with an ID. And Al hadn’t made his entrance yet, either, which was a shame.
Still, as he was shuffled along by the crowd towards another structure—some kind of geodesic dome, it looked like—he was already thinking that maybe he could take advantage of this situation to do good.
But, in order to do that, he would need to figure out exactly where he was and who these people were. And, apparently, what they were expecting of a ‘star child.’
Sam was ushered excitedly into the great dome, the inside of which appeared to be designed for a haphazard combination of functions—on one side, bunk beds in varying states of use. On the other, a kitchen and tables. The back and centre seemed to be some kind of stage or pulpit with an open area where people were loitering in groups, engaged in activities like smoking, playing musical instruments, and… Sam felt his cheeks burn as he saw one group of about five people all making out together. There could have been more explicit activities, but he looked away before he could take any more in.
The dome was lit with a series of naked bulbs hanging around the perimeter, and Sam could hear the distinct hum of a generator coming from outside, which suggested wherever he was, it was off the grid.
From the stage area, he watched a man approach. He had large round glasses, a generous moustache, and frizzy brown hair that ran down past his shoulders, a cigarette dangling from his mouth.
Sam sensed the others around him step back, giving the man some kind of deference.
The man dropped his cigarette to the floor, stamping it out as he gave Sam a once-over. He pursed his lips and turned to the woman beside him who’d earlier identified his eye colour.
“He don’t look any different to me, Marsha.”
The woman, apparently named Marsha, shook her head. “Well you ain’t tripping. The rest of us space cadets saw it.”
The man looked sceptically to Sam. “They’re saying you’re some kinda walk-in. That right?”
Sam bit his lip. Well, the truthful answer was in the affirmative, he realised. But he couldn’t just come out and admit that, could he? It was the rules. But he didn’t want to lie. Either option seemed like the wrong one.
“Well…” Sam said, stalling for time. “That’s… that’s certainly what they’re saying.”
“Yeah? What about you?”
“Look, I…” he continued, his tongue becoming tied. “I don’t really know what’s going on.” That, he thought with a sigh, was at least the truth.
The man nodded thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. “What’s your name, o star child?” He spoke the words in jest, grinning.
Sam’s eyes flickered around the room at all the people hanging on his every word.
“It’s Richie, isn’t it?” he asked in a markedly uncertain tone, clearing his throat mid-sentence.
“Ya don’t seem too sure of that.”
“That’s because he’s not Richie,” Marsha said, her statement far more firm than Sam’s had been. She turned to Sam, speaking loudly. “Welcome to Earth, traveller from the stars! By what name are you known from whence you hail?”
Sam ran a hand down his chin, lost for words.
And at that moment, he was sure he heard the Imaging Chamber door swish open, and he spun in a circle, looking for the glowing doorway.
“Al…?” he whispered, but there was no sign of the Observer. He wondered for a moment whether he had LSD in his system as a carryover from Richie, and was hallucinating too. That would be a new experience, he thought. Not one that he’d intentionally seek out, but if it happened, he figured he’d be able to handle it, probably.
“His name is Al!” Marsha exclaimed, and turned in a circle, copying Sam’s action.
Sam cringed as the hippies all around him spun on the spot as if it had been some kind of deliberate alien greeting.
“Well. Al,” the man said, frowning as if he didn’t believe what Marsha was saying at all. “I’m Danny, and I founded this little community.” He took Sam’s hand and shook. “Earth welcomes you, and Moonstone Ranch welcomes you.”
“Well, it’s nice to… meet you…” Sam said, stifling the urge to giggle at how surreal all of this was. Everyone was going to be calling him ‘Al’ now.
“Come on, friends,” Danny gestured to the people around him, “let’s make our ‘visitor’ feel at home.”
The next two hours were a blur to Sam; a procession of faces greeted and introduced themselves to him, each hoping to receive ascendant wisdom from him, but getting instead no more than a smile and words of encouragement. He was fed a stew that had been cooking in the kitchen—which he found quite delicious, though he was a bit iffy on the hygiene levels of the dishes—and found himself being massaged by two women as a group of people presented him with a flower crown.
It was a little strange, but he found himself kind of enjoying the experience, as guilty as he felt about misleading these people by omission.
As he found a way out of the crowd of—groupies?—he wandered over to a stash of musical instruments near the stage, and picked up a guitar, strumming and tuning it.
Marsha approached, grinning ear to ear. “Are you going to play us a song from the stars?”
Sam looked up at her, chuckling. “I don’t know about the stars, but…”
He appraised the environment, still not knowing when he was. Well, it seemed a safe bet that he was early seventies, probably.
And as he wracked his swiss-cheesed brain for a song to play, only one seemed to come to mind, and he figured it must have been because he was wondering why Al hadn’t come.
And so, he launched into Ziggy Stardust by David Bowie, and watched as those in the dome slowly gathered around him, swaying to the music.
And when he finished, Marsha had a hand cupped over Danny’s ear. Danny looked white as a sheet as she whispered to him, and he evaded Sam’s questioning eye before wandering out of the dome.
Sam, however, didn’t have the chance to wonder what that was about, as he had a new wave of people reaching out to grab at him.
“Far out, did you write that?” came the voice of an older man he recalled had introduced himself as Theo.
Sam let his jaw hang a moment, as he decided how to answer. Apparently he hadn’t made correct calculations as to the year. “Uh, no… that one’s a Bowie original. He, uh, hasn’t cut the record yet, but…”
“Oh man, Al’s met Bowie!” someone cried out.
Sam laughed. “No, I—”
“Naw, that’s not it,” said another. “He can see the future.”
Sam closed his mouth, not wanting to give away anything.
Finally, as he stared down all the curious faces, Marsha pushed her way to the front of the pack and took him by the hand.
“Come on, you look like you need to relax,” she said with a warm smile. “I’ll take you to my lodge.”
Sam allowed her to lead him out of the dome and through the dark to one of the smaller tepees dotted over the flat landscape, and he felt content to let her take charge, since he was feeling a little overstimulated.
“Make yourself at home,” she said, pulling aside the canvas flaps at the entrance.
The tepee appeared to be mostly a bedroom, which slowly came into view as Marsha lit a few pillar candles inside.
“Do you have any of Richie’s memories?” she asked, kneeling on the foam mattress on the ground and looking up at him.
“…Well, no,” Sam admitted, rubbing the back of his head. “I’m sorry.”
Marsha nodded. “Are you here just to visit? Or have you come here for good?” Sam could see it mattered to her what his answer was going to be.
“Just a visit,” he said, and watched Marsha let out a held breath.
She smiled up at him. “I’m glad. I… like Richie.” She began to pull off her clothes, and Sam looked away, embarrassed.
“You… have modesty in outer space?” she asked in a surprised tone.
Sam laughed. “Yes, I guess we do. I’m sorry, I—”
Marsha pulled her top back on. “It’s alright. You’re here to lead us to the future, Al. I’ll do things your way. Just say the word.”
“Oh boy,” Sam said, rubbing his eyes.