6. Georgiana

“No offense, but as you can see, I don’t need rescuing and even if you did rescue me, I don’t think that’d mean I’d just marry you out of a sense of obligation. This isn’t the 19th century.”

“But you did. We weren’t on Earth. And I assure you, you did not marry me out of a sense of obligation. Nor would I have wanted such a one-sided arrangement.”

“We need to come up with a more convincing story if you want to win this competition. It’s obvious to anyone who talks to me for more than five minutes that I’m no wallflower.”

“What do you suggest?”

I look up at the old white cabin ceiling. My eyes running along the beams for ideas. “You could have rescued me but then you helped me find a job and we fell in love that way.”

“I can’t think of any job for a human…” he leaves off finishing his sentence.

“Oh there are lots of jobs for people who don’t speak the local languages or know the local culture. I could have been a cleaner, an assistant, anything really that doesn’t require too many skills.”

“The Empire has slaves for that.”

“Oh a world-building society with slavery. I’m sure the billionaires will love that!” I remark mockingly.

“You misunderstand. It’s a class name. They are like living angels and don’t have to clean if they don’t want to. And they can report people for misbehaving and not following the gods’ decrees.”

“Well, if you can make all that world-building, then you can think up a respectable job for me. In this fantasy I want a job. It’s completely unbelievable that I’d just marry you for rescuing me.”

“What are you good at besides baking cakes?” he asks me seriously.

“I’m not bad at business. I have a head for numbers.”

“You could have worked as an accountant then for House Zu. It’s normally done by middling class people, but no one would say anything if you were good at it and we were married.”

“Middling class people?” I ask. How long has he had to think about this before I joined the game?

“In the Empire, middling class people deal with all the finances.”

“What are you if not a living angel or a middling class person?”

“A maximum class man.”

“Of course you are.”

He straightens up a bit. “Again, it’s not what you think. We are the figure heads of the Empire but have the least number of choices in our lives. We serve the rest of the Empire and for that we are rewarded with luxury. But it all comes at a cost.”

“Again, this world-building. How long have you had to think about all of this?”

“Awhile.” Then he gets out his little tablet and makes a note.

“What are you doing?”

“Marking down a few observations. Now you are going to have to remember the names of the people you worked with to make this seem real. Let’s go over them.”

“Why can’t I make up the names? If this is a fantasy role-play, shouldn’t we be creating this together?”

“I’m the alien, so it’s easier if you just go along with what I tell you. You can choose details about our personal relationship if you would like.”

“Okay,” I agree. And I think maybe that’s better since I don’t know that much about science fiction, but I have read a lot of romance novels.

Axl begins naming off people and I repeat their names and positions. Then he tells me about how my days in his House would have been. “We all eat the morning meal together and then the midday meal and finally the evening meal. No snacking, only drinking between meals. We pray to the goddess of home twice a day at our convenience. There’s a shrine in the house. But when I visit, we can have special eating arrangements.”

“When you visit? What do you mean? You left me to live among aliens alone?”

“Maximum class men don’t live on the planet until they retire.”

“So, it’s all women?”

“No, there are older men, boys, and living angels. Some middling class men as well. I told you being maximum class wasn’t the best to be born into although off-worlders tend to believe it is.”

“Okay, so you want to be with me every day because we are so in love, but you can’t because of your culture. Mark that down. I want a husband who loves me more than I love him.”

Axl looks paralyzed.

“What? This is just a fantasy and that would be my fantasy. To be adored and longed for.”

“To use your own words, ‘that’s very detailed world-building, how long have you had to think about this?’”

“I’ve had some time to think about it,” I reply mocking what he said to me. I’m not going to admit that I read hundreds of romance novels a year. “If I’m going along with all of your alien world-building we are going with all of my romance world-building. You love me so much you send me messages every day.”

“I adore you. Don’t use the word ‘love.’”

I give him a strange look. “Who broke your heart?”

“No one. In Alliance culture we only use that word a few times in our lives because it’s so revered. Superstitious people, like many of the officers in the Alliance Force, believe they’ll anger the gods by overusing the word ‘love.’ They’ll never believe we are married if you use it so freely.”

“Again, that’s some serious world-building. I’d suggest that you see a therapist after the competition. There’s nothing wrong with telling people how you feel about them. And add that to your list, that’s what you love about me. I make you tell me you love me all the time and it frees your heart and connects your soul to mine.”

“If you were my wife, I don’t know how I could resist.”

“I know, I’m just irresistible,” I say in the same cynical tone. This is a lie. Men find it easy to resist me. In fact, I’ve never really had a serious boyfriend. I’ve always been afraid of getting too close to people because I always end up feeling like I’m a burden. I’ve dated but I always ended up wishing I were at home with a book instead. “And how do we spend our time when you are home? I can’t be working or eating all the time.”

“We have sex,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone and I feel my body melt.

“What’s our bedroom look like?” I ask wanting more details but at the same time not wanting the details because I feel like the temperature in the cabin just went up to tropical levels.