Author: Jørn Arnold Jensen
“Do you know who I am?”
The question was left hanging in the air. The tiny girl struggled to understand what loomed in front of her; taller than the grown-ups in the kindergarten, and the height accentuated by feet hovering several centimetres above the ground.
“Can you see me?”
“Yes”, whispered the girl. She looked around. There were no other children here, on the lawn behind the kindergarten. No adults either.
“I have come for the ball. It hit the tree trunk over there.” She pointed at the corner of the house seven or eight meters away. “And then it bounced off at an angle of almost sixty degrees.”
“Do you know who I am?” repeated the stranger. Legs and arms were considerably longer than they should be, and the face was narrow. The small, rounded mouth had no visible teeth. The ears were pointed, which made the girl grin for a moment. Elven ears, she thought. The head was completely hairless, from the neck down the skin was covered with a close-fitting grey fabric, hands and feet included. She could just make out the shrubbery, the fence, and the trees behind the floating figure.
“The ball is over there”, it said, looking past her. The voice was friendly, like those of presenters on children’s television. “Right there under the bench where the lawn ends.”
“Thank you”, she said, but did not run away to get it.
“Do you know who I am?”
“I think so”, said the girl after a while. “Or maybe not.”
The figure took a couple of steps towards her and crouched down. “What are the adults saying about you?”
“What do you mean?”
“What do they say about all the things you’ve learned? About the fact you perform better than others?”
“They let me read books I choose myself. I do calculations, together with a lady who works at a university.” She hesitated and scratched the ground with her foot. “I hear what the adults say. Also, when they don’t think I do.”
“Who? What do they say?”
“Aunt Mari, for example. You’re some prodigy, aren’t you, she said. About time this family had some fresh blood. Mom was the only one she told that to. Other adults say I’m gifted. They come home to us and to the nursery. They give me tasks and they talk together in low voices. I don’t understand all. I remember some words. Hyperintelligent. Or advanced. That means better than others, doesn’t it? Special programme, they have said a few times. I think that’s when the lady from the university comes. She’s nice, but she looks at me in a funny way sometimes. Donor children, they sometimes say that, too.
“Do you know what that means? Donor?”
“Mum and dad couldn’t have children. They got help from a hospital. They gave them sperms that became me. Mom calls them seeds, but I know what sperms are.”
“Someone is coming”, said the figure and looked towards the corner. “By the way, they can’t see me. It is best you don’t tell anything about me. Because you know who I am?”
“I think so. I just said I believe so. Were you there when I was a baby?” Her voice sounded hoarse.
“In a way. Just before. I’m almost like you. Not quite. But you know what?”
“What?”
“I can visit you from time to time. Is that okay with you?”
Someone called out to her. An adult.
“It’s all right,” the girl said back.
“But don’t tell them. Don’t tell them anything about us. Do we have a deal?”
The girl nodded.
“I have to go”, said the figure.
She tried to reach its hand. It was like grasping air. She quivered and backed away.
“Don’t be afraid. I exist for real.” The figure looked worried. “I see you are wondering about something. What is it?”
“Am I alone? Are there more? Like me?”
“There will be more”, said the figure. “More donor children, but that’s our secret, isn’t it?”
She heard her name again, and footsteps.
“I’m just fetching something”, she shouted and ran to the bench. She lifted the ball and ran back towards the corner. The hovering figure on the lawn had vanished. Instead, Ayla stood there. Ayla was her favourite grown-up, and she went with her, dancing her way into the dressing room.
“You seem to be in a cheerful mood, don’t you?” Ayla said.
The girl looked up at her. “Do you want to know something? I’m not alone!”