Memories serve in the genesis of most writers’ stories, and this story is no different. At the age of nineteen, I hitchhiked up to Washington from Los Angeles to escape my parents’ divorce. I found myself with an entire evening to kill and no place to stay. The all-night diner I stopped in to eat seemed as good a place as any to hang out until dawn, so I slipped into a booth. The drama that unfolded that night was not unlike the tale just told. This gal’s name was Dandy, her runaround husband’s, Bob. Her friend behind the counter, Priscilla, came around from time to time to give me unsolicited updates on the woeful condition of Dandy’s marriage and state of mind. It wasn’t an alien who came in and took the edge off Dandy’s anger, but he was plenty strange. It was Priscilla’s comment about this man that stuck in my mind and spawned this story. She said, “That guy’s got to be from another planet to get involved with Dandy and her problems. “Who knows? Neither one of them ever came back in that night….
When “And I Awoke and Found Me Here on the Cold Hill’s Side” was published in 1971, it was commonly assumed that the author was male. When James Tiptree, Jr.’s, first collection
HE WAS STANDING ABSOLUTELY still by a service port, staring out at the belly of the Orion docking above us. He had on a gray uniform and his rusty hair was cut short. I took him for a station engineer.
That was bad for me. Newsmen strictly don’t belong in the bowels of Big Junction. But in my first twenty hours I hadn’t found anyplace to get a shot of an alien ship.
I turned my holocam to show its big World Media insigne and started my bit about What It Meant to the People Back Home who were paying for it all.
“—it may be routine work to you, sir, but we owe it to them to share—”
His face came around slow and tight, and his gaze passed over me from a peculiar distance.
“The wonders, the drama,” he repeated dispassionately. His eyes focused on me. “You consummated fool.”
“Could you tell me what races are coming in, sir? If I could even get a view—”
He waved me to the port. Greedily I angled my lenses up at the long blue hull blocking out the starfield. Beyond her I could see the bulge of a black-and-gold ship.
“That’s a Foramen,” he said. “There’s a freighter from Belye on the other side, you’d call it Arcturus. Not much traffic right now.”
