"Residue" by Michael Arsenault

The following story -- "Residue" -- will be the sixth, and final, story to be posted here from my co-edited anthology (with Nick Gevers) Is Anybody Out There? recently published by Daw Books. I hope these stories have intrigued you enough to purchase a copy of the book -- either the mass market paperback edition or the Kindle ebook edition, or both! The anthology contains an additional 9 original stories, by (in order of appearance) Alex Irvine, Yves Meynard, Mike Resnick and Lezli Robyn, Paul Di Filippo, Ray Vukcevich, Matthew Hughes, Ian Watson, Felicity Shoulders and Leslie What, and James Morrow (a nearly 9,000-word story), plus an introduction by Paul McAuley. So there is a lot more reading to be had in the book, and I believe you'll find the quality of these stories easily warrant multiple readings. But enough of the promotion....

In 2002, while working on the Witpunk anthology, co-editor Claude Lalumière sent me a story entitled "A Halloween Like Any Other," written by Michael Arsenault, an author with whom I had no familiarity, or even knowledge of, at the time. Claude asked that I consider the story for our anthology, which I did, and the story was accepted. I learned much later that Claude had attended a party at which Michael had "performed" (Michael's word) the story; that's how Claude came by the story initially.

So, if not for Claude, Michael and I would never have met -- virtually speaking, that is -- and I wouldn't have invited him to contribute a story to the anthology Is Anybody Out There? and Nick and I would not have seen this wonderful little gem of a story -- "Residue."¹

About "Residue," Michael writes: "While on a camping trip, I decided to take a late-night canoe ride. I paddled out to the middle of the lake and then looked up at the sky. It was hard not to notice the difference between this view and the one I had back in the city. Out here I could actually see the stars. Back at home, even on a cloudless night, I'd be hard pressed to spot more than a dozen, but that night, on that lake, I could see thousands twinkling up there. In order to take it all in, I lay down on the bottom of the boat and looked up. Positioned like that I had an unobstructed view, and this, coupled with the gentle rocking of the canoe in the water, began to make me feel weightless. As if gravity had let go of its hold on me and I might start floating up at any moment -- an entirely new sensation for me. One I didn't care for even a little. My stomach churned and my sense of balance abandoned me completely. Frankly, it was a miracle I managed to hang on to my dinner. In the end, at least one good thing came of that experience: it inspired the mood and setting of my story 'Residue.' Not the lake part, nor so much the feeling ill part, but the general sense of wonder and awe that comes with proper stargazing. So maybe, hopefully, all that queasiness was worth it in the end."

Residue

by Michael Arsenault

      They went outside, lay down on the grass, and looked up at the stars.

      Everything was quiet for about a minute, and then:

      "So…"

      "So?"

      "So what are we doing out here?"

      "We're… Nothing. We're just out here."

      "Why?"

      "I don't know. If you really need a reason I guess we could say we're communing with nature. Or something."

      "Since when do we do that?"

      "Since…tonight. Since right now."

      "This doesn't sound like you. Why are you being weird?"

      "I just want to be outside for a little while, okay? Out of the house and away from distractions."

      "What distractions?"

      "Lots of things. Television, for instance."

      "What's wrong with TV?"

      "Nothing, just God forbid it should ever be turned off while we're conscious."

      "You're touchy all of a sudden."

      "Look, I just want to lie here, have a moment of peace, and see if I can connect with something. Stare up into the sky, and, I don't know…ponder the meaning of the universe. What's so weird about that?"

      "It's not like you."

      "Fine. It's not like me. I'm different now."

      "I think I feel bugs crawling up my legs."

      "Maybe you should just go back inside."

      "Don't be so --"

      "No one's forcing you to stay out here."

      "I'm not…"

      "You're not what?"

      "I'm doing my best, okay? I'm trying."

      "I guess."

      "…Do you…?"

      "Do I what?"

      "Don't bite my head off. I was just going to ask if you know any of their names."

      "Whose names?"

      "The stars. The planets. The…whatever those patterns are called."

      "The constellations?"

      "Yeah."

      "No. Don't really know their names. I mean, of course I know some of them, but I don't know which is which."

      "Me neither. I never really thought much about it before, but now that we're here looking up I feel kind of ignorant."

      "You're not ignorant."

      "I feel that way. Ignorant. Not to mention insignificant."

      "Looking up at the sky can do that to a person."