Page 64 of Alien's Luck
She’d only known him a week. Was what she felt genuine or just a byproduct of stress? Had she ever loved anyone? She never had a serious relationship, mostly due to fear of being trapped in an abusive situation like her parents. Look, she was emotionally stunted. She never claimed otherwise.
Ari didn’t feel like a trap. He felt… right. It was starry-eyed and probably delusional, but she trusted him. Enough to jump into a dark pit to be with him.
Enough to confess what was in her heart?
It didn’t matter. He was currently stone, and if she followed his orders, he would remain stone for a century. She’d never get to tell him how she felt.
Ugh, emotions were so complicated and messy. Things were easier when she just looked out for herself.
That was what the gargoyle did to her, told her he loved her and left her with feelings and a moral dilemma.
Carla hated those hypothetical “problems” like that trolley situation. Really hated them. People acted like it was so fucking difficult to know what was the right thing to do when people do what’s best for them. Every time. They might do a little song and dance, pretending to be ever so conflicted about sacrificing themselves for the greater good, but what happened when push came to shove?
Self-preservation or self-sacrifice?
Exactly. It was all baloney. Do you know what you call selfless people who sacrifice themselves for the greater good? Dead. The selfish survived, at least on this planet.
She had two choices, and both sucked.
Go to the Khargals to help treat Poppy, knowing they’d arrest Ari. There wouldn’t be visitations. He’d spend a century as a living statue. When his sentence was over, she’d be over one hundred thirty years old and long gone, so there was no waiting for him.
She could take her chances and find a cure for Poppy somewhere else. Medicine wasn’t the most advanced on Reazus Prime, but she had the entirety of Ari’s fortune to throw at the problem. Splashing money around would cause its own problems, like making herself a target, so she’d have to hire bodyguards, and would she be able to trust any of the people she hired?
No. Not one jot.
She’d do better sticking with the Khargals. They had advanced enough tech, and she had a chip to trade, as cold as reducing Ari to a bargaining chip sounded.
He’d understand.
He told her to do it.
“For the record,” she said, speaking out loud for Ari and Poppy, despite knowing neither could hear her, “this is a garbage situation. I hate it.”
Yeah, that helped.
The other option—the obvious best option—was to leave Poppy in a suspended state in the medical chamber and go live her best life with Ari. He would be in his stone form in a healing sleep for some time, but he would wake up. He promised. And maybe a cure would come along for Poppy, maybe not.
See? Not a dilemma. No need to wring her hands over a hypothetical trolley. No need to pretend to be a good person. Besides, good people didn’t thrive on Reazus Prime, and she was still determined to thrive.
When Ari woke up, they could work on finding treatment for Poppy. Did it really matter how long Poppy was in the chamber when the computer could keep the fungus from spreading? She wasn’t getting better, but she wasn’t getting worse, so that was a win.
It didn’t feel like a win. It felt like another garbage choice. After going through all this work to rescue Poppy, how could she leave the job half-done? Plus, if the situation were reversed, Poppy wouldn’t rest until Carla was cured and out of that medical chamber. So there was guilt to consider, too.
Living with guilt would get easier with time. Probably.
You just didn’t think about certain things, did you? Like how Carla never asked if her father sent a birthday card or was coming home for Christmas. She and her mother knew he wouldn’t be returning. Ever. Maybe he was buried in the backyard. Maybe he just pulled up stakes and drifted to a new life in a new town. She didn’t want to know the answer, so she never asked the question.
She’d just learn not to think about her friend, sealed in a tube, infected with a brain -eating fungus, while Carla got on with her life.
Impossible.
Just imagining the scenarios felt impossible. It’d eat away at her every day, and would that be thriving? She’d survive, but it’d be a miserable existence. Not even being with Ari would help.
And who was he anyway? Some alien. She had known him for like a week and she was ready to throw her friend under the bus for him. That said some unflattering things about Carla, which she did not appreciate. Sure, sex had been amazing, and she liked simply hanging out with him, but that was probably hormones clouding her judgment. One day, the lust-filled haze would clear, and she’d be horrified at her betrayal.
“Not just surviving, thriving,” she said, repeating her mantra.
So which choice was thriving, and which was merely surviving? Poppy or Ari? Friendship or love? She wanted both but couldn’t see a way to make it happen.
