87 and 88 Revision

[A/N: Nothing new!  Just spliced off from the previous post so that it will stop crashing peoples' phones. I'm sorry for the many inconveniences with the Patreon platform lately. If they don't sort things out eventually, I will look for a more pleasant option for everyone.]


CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN: Incautious Caring

Boe Lupescu sat on the floor in a bedroom on Anesidora, staring out the window toward the ocean.

Through his interface there was a live feed of his apartment in Chicago, provided by the hidden nanny cams he’d installed. The images alternated between living room and kitchen. His parents weren’t there right now.

It was a good sign at this time of day. They didn’t have friends or hobbies, so they could only be at their latest jobs. Neither of them had gotten fired or just stopped going in.

It’s either a miracle or…

In the kitchen, dirty dishes filled the sink and the breakfast table, and a jug of milk had been left out to spoil on the stove. But it was only a few days worth of dishes. Only one milk jug.

The woman Boe had paid in cash to keep the place above the biohazard level while he was away was supposed to come once a week. She was obviously doing it, or it would be worse.

The smoke alarm was lying on the counter. It must have started beeping and bothered them.

I should have checked the batteries.

He swiped the scene away and looked out at the Pacific. It was a cloudless day, and the small dark waves stretched on and on. A helicopter was visible in the distance.

I’m not supposed to be here.

There were things he did not deserve that he allowed himself to have anyway. Anesidora wasn’t one of them.

I can’t be here. If I’m not a ticking bomb anymore, I have to go back home.

He selfishly wished that someone would come and arrest him. If it happened in the right way, if he wasn’t accused of anything too serious, it would be such a relief. To have what he wanted anyway forced on him, through no fault of his own. He would feel guilty, but he’d be able to justify it to himself eventually.

He’d definitely be outlawed from returning home. And with summonses being extremely unlikely, he would just live here. He would start over. Alden worried about people hating Boe for his powers, but he didn’t care so much about that himself. It would be unenjoyable, but he would endure it for a while.

Until he’d made enough money to buy a shitty boat. And then he’d live on his shitty boat, just far enough offshore that he only had himself to deal with.

He’d attend college online. He’d get way too many degrees, enjoy the amenities on the island whenever he wanted, help Alden figure out…

I think he has a lot more to figure out than he used to.

“Hey. What did you do to my friend?” he whispered to the System.

The System didn't answer because the answer didn’t benefit it. Or it was forbidden.

That storm of emotion yesterday—not the second one that Boe had only witnessed instead of experiencing himself. The first one. The strange, sudden one right after they’d been reunited. So strong it broke through Peace of Mind and the relief and happiness Alden had been feeling. It wasn’t panic. Panic was shallower.

Dread.

What was that?

More importantly why was it? Boe had thought back over the whole conversation so many times in the night. The dread had come when he mentioned the fact that the System offered U-types additional assistance with their affixation. That didn’t make sense.

I sparked a barely related memory from the moon situation maybe?

Feelings weren’t as easy to follow as he imagined thoughts must be. Someone saw a cute puppy and they felt joy. Someone else saw the same puppy, and they grieved. Maybe for one they’d lost. Or for a dozen other reasons that Boe preferred not to care about.

He strictly limited the number of people he cared about.

Incautious caring was dangerous.

[I made it to class on time. The second and third years are really passionate about this domestic violence/terrorist problem. The girl next to me is snapping ink pens in half every time someone argues against rescuing the kids. I hope she brought plenty of spares.]

Boe stared at the words in a state close to wonder. Last night, he’d set messages from Alden to come straight through, no notification required. His friend could text him. Because he wasn’t dead.

Just this once, the universe had been uncharacteristically generous.

[The pen snapper is some kind of Brute. Do you think you could take her in a fight??]

He’s lonely.

Boe doubted Alden had even realized it himself yet. He was trying to deal by keeping himself busy. He was so hung up on what he’d lost, and so worryingly agonized about who he was supposed to be now in the aftermath of that loss…lonely was probably way down on his list of concerns.

But it was still there. He hadn’t had time to form any real connections in this place. Casual acquaintances couldn’t replace friends and family overnight, no matter how hard Anesidora tried to make it happen.

[I assume you mean a physical fight,] Boe texted back. [Probably not. Punching a hole in Jeremy’s wall was my maximum effort.]

[Disappointing.]

[I’m more durable than I am strong. System’s choice. Not mine.]

A brief pause.

[What kind of stats will you choose when you level? You’ll probably level pretty fast if you have to keep that shield up all the time just to be comfortable, right?]

Boe closed his eyes.

“Give me a way to tell him the whole story without screwing myself over,” he muttered. “Or I’m just going to do it anyway and make me and you both unhappy.”

The System didn’t answer.

It hadn’t answered the request no matter how many different ways Boe had asked last night. He was sure there was logic to its behavior, but it was a logic that was beyond human understanding. Most of the time he didn’t mind. Other times, he wanted to smash its non-existent face with a bat.

[Yeah. I do use that skill constantly when it’s up,] he texted. [That’s one thing. And the fact that it’s a dynamic skill is another. Working on figuring it out will level me faster.]

[Dynamic how?]

[Developable. Flexible functions. I’ve been trying to learn how to filter out specific emotions through it instead of using it as a universal block. It’s slow going, but I’m making progress.]

[Cool! :)]

Boe stared at the smiley.

Cool! Smiley face. Good job developing your horror show of a power, Boe. Cool! Smiley face. I’m okay with it. I’m still your friend. I’m not scared of you.

He meant it, too.

And because he meant it, Boe had to live up to it.

He’d really wanted to feel Alden’s emotions a few times last night. To check on him. To make sure he was real and okay. Being an adult about it instead of a needy, sneaky brat was hard.

Even now his inner weasel was coming up with ways for it to be all right.

For example, if Boe just happened to overuse the barrier now so that he’d be too magically fatigued to help himself when Alden made it back later…

He scowled at his own thoughts and dropped the skill. He let Alden’s neighbors buffet him. Some people would probably consider this immoral, too, but Boe personally didn’t.

If it was bad, it ought to be more fun.

Instead, it was often like having one total stranger sit on your chest whispering terrors in your ear, while another handed you a teddybear and a third shoved twenty different flavors of ice cream down your throat simultaneously even though you were too full to eat them. And while all of that went on you were also all afraid of something environmental, like an earthquake. Or a swarm of wasps.

He was familiar with it, but he didn’t think it was possible to be used to it.

Right now, someone had just had their feelings hurt. Someone was guilty. Someone was excited.

In general, everyone was more relaxed than they had been last night. People tended to have a better handle on themselves in the mornings. So it was a good time for him to have the barrier down.

He didn’t know who these other teenagers were. Experience told him that he couldn’t even guess their genders with much more than fifty percent accuracy. He was just with them all, though he didn’t want to be.

[Are you going to sleep now? Should I stop texting you?] Alden asked.

[No. I’ll sleep when a few more people have cleared out of the building. What’s up?]

[Literally a person. An Adjuster just levitated someone to make a point…I’m still not sure what the point is, but people are floating now and Instructor Marion seems to think that’s more acceptable than personal insults, so I guess we’re going with it.]

Boe smiled. [Send me a picture.]

********

In Conversation IV, they were supposed to be talking about the show with Artonan farmers who’d fought over the doomed mole cricket. This exercise was majorly impeded by the fact that almost nobody in the class had the vocabulary they needed to talk about farms or poaching. And a few people hadn’t bothered to watch the video.

The students had complained, but Instructor Rao wouldn’t hear a word against the assignment. So Alden’s ears were being assaulted by sentences that had him on the edge of both laughter and despair.

“The worker man number one and the worker man number two love animals a lot.”

“I love animals a lot like the worker man.”

“The pretty woman who killed the Trenxop beetle was a murderer.”

“It’s a story about freedom.”

“It’s a story about food.”

“The kill-kill woman was probably starving.”

“It’s a sad story.”

“It’s very sad.”

“It’s funny,” Lute Velra said in Artonan. He was sitting on his learning cushion across from Alden, wearing a graphic print spiderweb sweatshirt so long it reached his knees. His eyepatch was still present, but there was no fake blood oozing from it today. “I don’t know why it’s funny, but I’m sure the Artonans think it’s funny.”

“It’s a comedy,” Alden confirmed. “I think it might be building to a romance between the farmers and the poacher, too, but I’ll have to watch more episodes to be sure.”

Given the show’s tone, it probably wasn’t going to be a serious romance. Artonans had so many permutations of relationship, and Alden was sure he hadn’t even heard of some of them yet. The Primary and Alis-art’h’s massive shared household was a bit of a mystery to him still, and since Stuart hadn’t brought it up, he hadn’t wanted to ask.

But the farmer/farmer/poacher combo was likely. By modern Artonan standards, three was the least intimidating option. They could devote just one half of their divided consciousness to each partner, instead of their full attention, so it was like…partial intimacy and lower pressure?

“Talk slower,” Lute reminded him.

“Sorry.” He repeated the words more slowly.

“You not should being in this class,” said Lute.

“‘Should not be,’” Alden corrected. “There’s a level six course offered this term, but they wouldn’t put me in it. I asked.”

“Probably the instructor wouldn’t say yes. Some of the Artonan culture and language instructors have those works because they…” He switched to English again. “How do you say ‘get off on fantasizing that the ritualized classroom garbage actually makes them important?’”

“That isn’t something I would say. Unless I was trying to offend nine out of ten people on the Triplanets.”

“You’re calm.” And they were back to Artonan now. Lute’s tone was disappointed. “You would being more fun if not so calm.”

Alden untangled that. “I think you mean ‘boring’ not calm.”

“You’re boring,” Lute agreed. “I will show you the eye grandmother ate if you teach me bad words in Artonan!”

Alden tried not to picture Aulia Velra eating an eyeball. “That’s not necessary. And I don’t actually know a lot of adult curse words.”

“Boring.” Lute picked at the edge of the learning cushion with his index finger. “How do I say ‘I want to feed myself?’”

“Feed yourself? You mean eating?” Alden pointed at his mouth. “Or are you thinking of another word?”

“I want to feed myself,” Lute said in English. “How do I say that in Artonan?”

Maybe he was on-topic now and thinking about the poacher from the video?

“You said it correctly,” Alden said in Artonan. “‘I want to feed myself’ is good.”

Lute shook his head. “No. Like…” he leaned forward. He was still speaking English. “If I really needed the aliens to listen to me. Is there a special way or a…a formal way of telling someone that you really want to feed yourself?”

If this was a joke, then it was one too obscure for Alden to grasp. And the Velra boy looked serious.

Okay then.

“You can raise the pitch of your voice when you say it.” Alden switched languages, too, since he wasn’t sure he had all the words for this explanation in Artonan anyway. “For emphasis. If you make a request once and someone ignores you and you go higher the second time, it comes across as insistent, but in a politer way than shouting?”

“How high?” Lute demanded.

“Not very. They’re pretty sensitive to tone. Anything that’s recognizably above normal for you should be fine. I guess you might have to do it more than once if it’s someone who assumes it was an accident?”

“I want to feed myself,” Lute said in Artonan. Then, slightly higher, “I want to feed myself.”

Alden was so confused.

“That should do it?” he said. “Unless they’ve got bad manners. And if that’s something you have to insist on in the first place they might. Why is this something you need to know?”

Lute ignored the question and leaned back on his cushion again. “You can see my terrible eye,” he said. “Reward! Look. See.”

He lifted the patch.

For half a second, Alden thought the other boy really had been messing with him this whole time. He had some barely visible scarring below his bottom eyelid, and the eye itself looked almost exactly like its gray neighbor.

Oh, it’s not quite the same though.

“The prosthetic looks really good. Why do you keep it covered?”

“It does look great,” Lute agreed, re-positioning the patch. “The ocularist did an amazing job. But people still stare at it like it’s a hypnotist’s pocket watch. Especially here where plenty of Avowed are walking around with enhanced visual acuity. Even if I eventually get an electronic one that tracks with my real eye better, it’s not going to be perfect. And since I plan to have the System upgrade my own vision when I get the chance, it’ll be even more obnoxious to constantly notice them all noticing. It’s less annoying to me if they stare at a big obvious eye patch than at the thing that’s supposed to be subtle.”

Alden wanted to ask what had really happened and if some kind of magical prosthetic that could actually allow Lute to see wasn’t a possibility. He refrained.

They spent the rest of the period with Lute struggling through a summary of the video.

He seems to be trying hard. His pronunciation is so perfect. And it should be, considering his class. But if he cares about learning Artonan…why didn’t he do it before now?

Back home you had to search out teachers. Anesidora was different. Artonan wasn’t the most popular second language choice, but lessons in it were ubiquitous.

As he left class, Alden texted Boe.

[Lute Velra is really missing an eye,] he reported while he took one of his sneakers from its cubby in the hallway and balanced on one foot to put it back on. [Also, he’s got strange concerns about Artonans not letting him feed himself. If that’s something from an obscure Triplanets subculture, I have no clue about it, and I’m glad I don’t.]

“Hey, by the way…”

Alden looked down to see Lute kneeling by a bottom cubby. The blond boy was sniffing a black loafer.

“Did Lexi Roberts tell you he was inviting the school pariah to be your roommate, or did he not explain?”

Alden froze with one foot still lifted and stared at him. “He said it would be me, Haoyu, and some guy from…you’re the guy from Arts?”

Alden’s housing form was still listed as pending. He’d assumed it was a normal delay, but maybe they were waiting on the fourth roommate to be assigned?

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Lute finally put his shoe on and started sniffing the other one. “That guy isn’t much of a communicator. I actually thought we weren’t friends anymore. Because we haven’t spoken in around a year. But apparently we still are…?”

No, thought Alden. No way. I don’t want to live with a Velra even if he is number two on my Velra ranking list. The list is a list of people to be cautious around. Everyone on the list is a non-roommate.

“So, do you mind? I’ve been wanting to move back on campus, but I didn’t want a repeat of the whole ‘Oh god not him,’ thing I got last time I tried.”

“I am…texting you,” said Alden. “Hold on.”

“Why?”

Because Boe’s paranoia was rubbing off.

[I have no problem with being your roommate except for the fact that I’m trying to avoid your grandmother.]

Lute blinked up at him. “You and everyone else with common sense. It’s not like I’m going to invite her to sleep over.”

[I understand. But won’t she think us being roommates means she’s right about…]

Alden didn’t know how to put it, but Lute just kept waiting, with a neutral expression, for him to spit it out.

[She thinks the Gloss bringing Chainer to Hazel through me means I’m important somehow. To your family. According to Keiko and Aimi. I want her to forget about that.]

Lute’s lips stretched into a wicked smile. “Aww…” he said. “You’re so innocent. I feel bad for you.”

He set his loafer down and started air typing with one hand.

[Aulia will never forget. You gave her most favoritest pet project Chainer. You got summoned to LeafSong, died, then rose from the grave months later. Your goose isn’t just cooked, it’s charcoal.]

[You just know off the top of your head where I was summoned?] Alden wished texting offered more in terms of tone so that he could express how unhappy that made him.

[She mentioned it in passing during a meeting when she was telling certain family members her plans for popping the Gloss debt. I’ve heard some of the old people say the name of the school on occasion, so it stuck out.]

“My point,” the Velra boy continued, “is that you’ve already jumped in the ocean. Or been dumped there. I’d apologize, but one of my new policies is never to say sorry for things I didn’t do. You can’t avoid getting wet at this point.”

[I want them to leave me alone.]

“Me too.” [Is Aulia actually bothering you right now? Or are you just worried about her doing it in the future?]

[She sends me emails offering to help me with things and inviting me to events.]

[You ignore them?]

[I politely reject them.]

Lute frowned down at the floor. [Guess you don’t need money or favors. That limits her options for befriending you. If she invites you to something that doesn’t sound completely disgusting, you should just go and get it over with.]

“No. Why?”

[You don’t have anything to offer that she actually wants at the moment, right?]

[I don’t think so?]

[Then she’ll be satisfied if you just make it obvious you’re not avoiding her. She can only actively torment so many people at once, and she’s already stabbing everyone she can with her pitchfork. Don’t run away, and she won’t feel the urge to chase you and put you in hell with her favorite pincushions.]

“What is wrong with your family?” Alden whispered.

“Ha! Don’t ask me. I’m just trying to survive them.” Lute sniffed the loafer one last time and stuck it on his foot. “But if that’s how you feel, I’ll tell Lexi not to bother. It would almost be a point of pride for me to earn a few more jabs of the fork for associating with you. I’m going for a family record, see? Guess there’s no reason to spread the misery around though.”

Alden finished tying his own shoe while he thought about it. He absolutely hated the idea that he was choosing his high school roommates based on nerves about an old politician he’d never met pestering him in the future.

I lived with tiny demons flying through the walls for months. Why the heck should Aulia Velra be a factor in my current living arrangements?

It was giving the specter of her more power over him than she actually had. Wasn’t it? It was also just wrong to avoid someone solely because of their relatives.

“You should room with us,” he said. “At least I’ve actually spoken to you. I haven’t even properly met Lexi and Haoyu. Unless you count Lexi almost cutting me in half with a whip as a normal getting-to-know-you activity.”

“Normal for certain kinds of Avowed maybe. How did you end up with them?”

“I don’t know anyone else either. They seemed like the least crazy options out of the remaining people in my incoming class.”

“I guess you wouldn’t know anyone since you came from the real world.” Lute stood and hefted his backpack onto his shoulders. “America. Chicago. They make some of the best harps on the planet there.”

Alden was surprised by the description. “They do?”

“Yes. Was it great living there?”

“I like it a lot.” Alden started down the hall toward the stairs.

Lute followed after him. “Have you ever been to Austria?”

“Uh…no. I wasn’t rich enough to travel around like that.”

“I got to go once. Before I affixed. To Vienna. I wanted to move there.”

They reached the door to the stairwell, and Alden held it open for a group of students.

<<Cheater,>> one of them muttered as he swept past Lute.

Lute stared straight at the wall like he hadn’t heard him.

Alden looked after the group. A couple were glancing back over their shoulders to stare at Lute in a way that was definitely unfriendly.

“Did you call yourself the school pariah?” Alden asked when the others were out of earshot.

“You did notice that the whole conversation class sits eight feet away from me like I have some rare incurable disease, didn’t you?”

“Is it just your family…?”

Lute’s gray eye met his. “Under normal circumstances, I don’t think most people our age would care. Tons of students have important relatives around here. But the Gloss was major, memorable magic that Aulia had only used twice before now as far as anyone knows. And I’m considered an accomplice.”

Was he an accomplice? From what Alden knew, Aulia had somehow applied the high-powered chain to and maybe through all of the family members to make it stronger or more effective. Had they had to consent to that or was it just something she could do?

“You haven’t heard any gossip about it yet?” Lute asked.

“Just newspaper headlines. Not school gossip. It’s only my second day on campus.”

“Well I’m in high school, so it’s the high school gossip I get to enjoy. Not the political stuff. And the high school gossip is that every good thing that has ever happened to me was caused by me using my evil Chainer powers, and every bad thing that happens to me from here on out is proof that I’ve been using my evil Chainer powers even more.”

That would really suck. For every accomplishment to be attributed to luck. And every misfortune to be something people thought you deserved.

“I don’t even know any powerful luck chains,” Lute said. He pointed at his eye. “And if I did, they’re way too expensive.”

“Your class is extremely odd,” Alden said. “Sorry people blame you for your family’s decisions.”

“You have no idea… truly, the family advertising about how the class works is beyond misleading.” Lute headed into the stairwell. “And the hatred isn’t completely unfair, I guess. Ultimately, I did agree to be part of the Velra cabal. But I didn’t realize I was signing up to have a once-in-a-generation chain tied around my neck right off the bat.”

He headed down the steps, his fingers trailing along the handrail.

“Maybe it’s getting better.” His voice echoed off the block walls. “I’ve got roommates now, apparently. And it’s been an entire month since somebody pissed in my shoes.”

CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT: Diving

Alden stood on the packed train, staring at the name of the approaching station as it scrolled across the door across from him.

O Cruzamento.

The station Karl had gotten off the train at.

It was his second time thinking about it today. In Engaging with the Unexpected, a third year girl had started talking about evil triumphing when good people looked away from it.

Isn’t that what I’m doing? If it is, then…

And then, thank goodness, Boe texted, [Pick up snacks for us.]

[Snacks?]

[Unhealthy ones.]

******

Half an hour later, Alden walked through the door of his apartment and spotted his friend sitting on the sofa. Victor was beside him, and Boe was typing on Alden’s laptop.

“Hey,” Alden said, dropping his messenger bag on the kitchen counter and lifting up the net shopping bag full of snacks he’d bought on his way over from the station. He was preserving it just for the practice. “Why do we need unhealthy snacks?”

“Because we’re watching a movie,” Boe announced. He picked up the remote and pointed it at the television.

Familiar music filled the room, and an equally familiar image of a sand dune appeared on the screen.

“The End of the Lonely Earth documentary?” Alden asked, toeing off his shoes and dumping chips and candy on the coffee table. “I don’t mind, but didn’t we have it memorized by seventh grade?”

“Us and everyone else,” said Boe. “But see, I think it’s going to be way funnier now that my friend is a wizard. And we can pause it every time that suck-up of a narrator says something about the Artonans or Avowed and discuss it with our fresh perspectives. Mostly your fresh perspective. Since you’ve actually been hanging with both Artonans and Avowed, and I have not.”

“My job is to argue with the narrator. Got it.”

“I’ll argue with him, too, of course. You can’t leave me out of a good roasting.”

Alden sat with his legs crossed on the floor and watched the familiar montage of images from the late 1950’s and early 1960’s that started the film. “Telstar” started to play while a woman in high heels and a frilled apron pulled a crown roast out of the oven. A poster for the Four Pests Campaign turned into an image from the Vostok 1 launch turned into a scene of military personnel guarding students as they tried to integrate a school.

Photos of a Japanese city flooded by a typhoon faded into newspaper headlines about the Cuban Missile Crisis.

“It was a rough time,” said Boe.

“Would we have nuked the planet by now?”

“Definitely.”

Alden nodded. “I think so, too.”

“This was our lonely Earth,” the narrator said in a deep voice that would have fit right into some of the radio snippets that would play later in the documentary. “The late 1950s and early 1960s was a time full of humanity’s highest highs and our lowest lows.”

“They didn’t have to synch ‘lowest lows’ with that clip of Elvis dancing. He looks like he’s enjoying himself,” Alden said.

“That was uncalled for.”

“If we didn’t blow ourselves up, we’d have gotten over a lot of the rest of it without an alien intervention by now, right?”

“I think we could have eradicated malaria on our own,” said Boe. “Given a few more years. It was great they did it for us, but we could probably have handled that one?”

Alden nodded. “A lot of the things they fought about must have seemed serious one day and then insane the next. You’ve got people all over the world saying some version of, ‘You have a different god than me, so you should die. You like a different kind of political system than me, so die. You look different from me, so you can’t sit in my restaurant.’”

Boe reached for a box of chocolate raisins. “Uh…it’s still like that in tons of ways.”

“But not as bad, right? You’re sitting there feeling superior to other humans for no reason at all. And you’re using it to justify all kinds of stupid shit. And then—”

“Then one day,” the narrator said dramatically as the wind howled across the Sahara, and a re-enactment began, “we learned we were not alone after all.”

A large group of wizards and Avowed, one from almost every resource world, appeared in a cloud of smoke.

“Pretty understated of them to land in the desert,” said Boe. “I’d have materialized on top of the White House or in Red Square. Maximum impact.

“I doubt there was a cloud of smoke when they showed up. I bet it was either nothing at all or something creepier.” Alden was remembering how the teleportation room on Alis-art’h’s ship had smelled like blood. “Anyway, you’re really invested in being better than your neighbor, people on the other side of the planet, and your own wife. Then boom—space wizards and a ton of superpowered representatives from their empire invite themselves over to ask if you’d like to make a deal.”    Then one of the first things they do is…that.

They both watched the screen. The footage now looked different from that filmed by human cameras at the time. It had been captured by the Artonans themselves using both magic and their own technology.

“Tan-wyk and the others casually wandering away from that meeting with U.S. and Soviet leadership and then showing up in Bali a few hours later would have been a decent power move on its own,” Boe noted. “But why not record yourself stopping a volcanic eruption while you’re there?”

There were museums all over the world where you could experience various moments from that day, instead of just seeing it on a screen. The magic rooms made you feel like you were standing there, watching the pyroclastic flow that was going to kill you suddenly encounter an impenetrable wall of magic, the ash and rock piling skywards rapidly.

“Here’s my favorite line.” Boe turned up the volume.

A couple of days later, Tan-wyk with her familiar crown of purple hair stood blinking into a camera—a human one this time—and said in response to a question about what the next stage of the operation would be, <<We will clean up so that it doesn’t look so unattractive. And we will fix the fields that were destroyed. They grow rice here. I like rice.>>

Boe was laughing so hard Alden couldn’t hear the narrator’s next few words. “The best part is that she’s not just saying that! All the other members of the delegation go back to talking to world leaders and doing good deeds all over the rest of the planet, and she just stays right there for the next year, magically fixing things for the local villages and observing the rice-growing process.”

“She likes rice,” said Alden. “She beat a volcano, so she gets to take a break and enjoy as much Earth grain as she wants.”

The volume was still high, so the narrator’s next words filled the room, “Every human who witnessed such an amazing feat wanted to know, ‘What is magic? And can we do it, too?’”

“Here it comes,” said Boe. “The first official definition the Triplanets gave us of magic. Unfortunately, it was delivered by an Artonan who wasn’t as cool as Tan-wyk.”

“He did take the time to deliver it in every known human language separately. Maybe he was really pumped and creative in the first three dozen, and by the time he got to English he was tired.”

The man on the screen started to speak in a dull voice.

“Magic is the process by which we wizards prove our existence and assert our dominion over all else that exists. If your planet chooses to form a Contract with us, we will gift you with magical tools and conveniences that you will never otherwise be able to obtain. And a few among you will be granted the ability to wield magic yourselves, with the expectation that you will use those powers for the benefit of both your species and ours.”

Boe paused the video. “Such an idiot. The rest of the team was busy presenting themselves as helpful friends who’d come to say hello and tell us about the chaos that was eating the universe, and then he set them back with a definition of magic that fueled everyone’s belief that the aliens had come to exert dominion over all of humanity in mustache-twirling villain fashion. Someone shot the ewtwee Avowed a couple of days after this aired.”

“That upset me so much the first time I heard about it. I know the ewtwee just dug the bullet out of her armor and then added it to her memories necklace. But how could anyone shoot one of them? They’re one of the most harmless aliens. She thought the bullet might have been a gift that was delivered too quickly.”

Ewtwees looked sort of like large fennec foxes with furless, prehensile double tails. They wore charm belts and necklaces full of shiny objects that they liked.

“I saw one in real life,” said Boe. “When I was around six.”

“You did? You never told me that!”

They weren’t a low population species, but Alden had still only ever seen them on screens.

“He must have been an Avowed working for an Artonan visitor, but he was alone at the time. He was coming out of a jewelry store, and he was glittering like he’d bought out the whole place. I wanted to say hello to him, but my mom dragged me away before I could.”

A few seconds passed, then Boe looked at Alden expectantly. “So?”

“So what?”

“You’re a wizard. Say wizard things about magic. Comment on the first definition.”

“Oh! Replay what he said.”

“You have the attention span of a flea.”

“Some jerk made me go to school today. I burned myself out debating superterrorism and talking to Lute Velra.”

Boe replayed the section of the video; Alden listened to it closely.

“It’s only one sentence, It sounds like it’s not an answer to the question at all, and he has a massive wizard-superiority complex,” said Boe. “The definitions the other ambassadors gave when they were cleaning up his mess were much more satisfying to most people.”

“The other answers mostly imply that magic is a kind of special energy Artonan wizards have inside of them and they use it to manipulate the universe,” said Alden.

“That’s right. And that’s the explanation that’s most popular. Remember that kid in seventh grade who called it Alien Spirit Gas?” said Boe.

Alden did. The unfortunate boy had been subjected to fart sounds whenever he walked into classrooms after that.

“Some people think it’s mystery energy,” Boe continued. “Some people think it’s more like prayer with replicable results. Others—and quite a few Avowed—think doing spells is like outputting code that the world responds to. And the Artonans muddy the waters by not outright disagreeing with any of it. I’ve got you here now, so…reveal the truth.”

“Well, magic does a lot of different stuff. So it’s not like you can point at any one of those ideas and say, ‘This is completely wrong.’ Even the prayer one…people who think that are probably thinking of wordchains, right? And ‘outputting code’ makes a lot more sense as a concept if you’re an Avowed with a spell impression.”

“Does it?”

Alden nodded. “They make you feel like a robot.”

“Weird. Should I get one if I ever have the chance?”

“It’s convenient,” said Alden. “Really thorough. Very efficient. Nearly infallible.”

“You sound so surly about it.”

“Feeling my body and my brain do complex things on autopilot grosses me out.”

He looked back at the screen. It was nice that Joe’s first, more generalized lessons on authority hadn’t been conducted under the same extreme strictures as their long final discussion about The Bearer of All Burdens and the original skills. Alden had since figured out some things on his own and had his knowledge shored up by Kibby and Instructor Gwen-lor, so he could talk about this a bit more freely.

“The first definition was better,” he said. “I mean, it was worse in one way because humans don’t have the base concepts of reality or the senses to understand what he meant by it. So it comes across as him bragging instead of giving information. But it was actually better as far as openness and honesty goes. That’s like a stripped-down and language-limited version of the definition of magic they give wizard toddlers.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Boe grinned. “I wondered! For the first time in my life today, I delved into the depressing and embarrassing world of adult humans who believe, despite literally decades of evidence to the contrary, that they can become wizards by mimicking footage of wizards in action.”

Alden winced. “Oh no.”

“Yes. Mine eyes have feasted on many strange sights! There is a man in Washington state making wands out of sticks he marinates in his own bodily fluids. There is a woman who has spent the past twenty years meticulously memorizing every single facial expression ever made by a visiting wizard. However! Despite the fact that many of these people pursue foolish and smelly habits, they do have some valuable qualities. They all speak Artonan well, and their unhealthy obsession makes them strive for authenticity.”

He spun the laptop around to show Alden a Japanese website. The System translated the title as <<Dominant Humans Society.>>

“Please ignore the many layers of confusion the name they’ve chosen can produce. They’re just big fans of the first definition of magic. Because, as they point out, contemporary Artonan guests on Earth use many different words that the System translates as ‘magic’ that are better translated as ‘power,’ ‘dominance,’ ‘sway,’ or…more weirdly…‘my spot.’”

“Avowed who go to the Triplanets often enough have to notice those things, too,” said Alden. “Once you speak the language, it’s impossible not to realize that the way they talk about magic is different than most humans think of it. But it probably comes across as wizard cultural posturing to people who don’t like Artonans or who don’t care to delve into it. Because if a wizard doesn’t sit down and explain it to you really slowly and clearly, it’s easy to convince yourself that they’re just being poetic, arrogant, and alien. Instead of surprisingly literal.”

Boe shut the laptop and set it aside. “So give me your definition!”

He was leaning over his knees toward Alden. He sounded eager.

Of course he did. Alden wanted to tell him, and at the same time, he very much didn’t.

“Talking about it in general is fine,” he said hesitantly. “But if you want me to try to teach you how to do it, too, I…I’m going to need to think about that. For a long time probably. Okay?”

Boe stared. “You think you can teach other people how to do it?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think it would be impossible if I chose the right person. Probably another Avowed. It would be really hard. And time consuming. Maybe even years worth of time consuming for both of us? If I even wanted to at all.”

“I wasn’t asking you to teach me,” said Boe, watching him closely through his brand new glasses. “I assumed you couldn’t. Either because of that tattoo on your chest or because you were a one-of-a-kind case. For the obvious reason.”

“Oh. I am, but I think there should be others who are capable of it. Only it would be harder for them than it was for me. And possibly less worthwhile.”

According to her, Gorgon’s refinement of Alden’s authority made him qualify as ‘gifted’. He hadn’t thought much about that statement over the past few weeks, but it had crossed his mind a few times. Mostly when he was wondering how gifted you had to be for an entity like that to acknowledge it.

Thanks, Gorgon. Hope you liked Natalie’s cinnamon bun.

“I think you have to be underestimating the difficulty of it even with all those caveats,” said Boe. “Everyone is curious about magic. Plenty of smart Avowed spend time with the Artonans. By all accounts, they’re secretive as hell, but there’s no way every last wizard, including a couple who’ve gone and married humans, would refuse to teach it. Someone would have broken the rules by now. So if it’s not very close to impossible, then the Triplanetary Government must assassinate everyone who does it, because otherwise there would be a small population of human wizards running around already.”

“From what I’ve been told, I’m the only one right now,” said Alden.

It made more sense when you knew the whole truth. Joe was probably the king of rule breakers, and even he had been very firmly against teaching an Avowed magic. It meant flouting your culture, your colleagues, and your conscience. And after months or years of training, you’d be gifting your student not only power but a variety of pain they couldn’t properly understand and consent to until they were too deeply involved to back out.

You’d have to be at least a little bit of a monster.

Or a very patient and determined child who didn’t know any better.

He cleared his throat and pointed at the tv. “My definition is totally better than that guy’s. Here it is: while I was on Moon Thegund being sandblasted by chaos, I became aware of <<myself>> as a unique existence within reality. Becoming aware of yourself in that way is probably what the Human Dominators, or whatever they’re called, are translating as ‘my spot’? It works. You gain awareness of yourself as an entity beyond the physical, and in doing so you come to understand that you both have and are authority. You learn to direct your authority to effect changes in reality—aka doing magic. In the process of doing so, you can grow the strength of your authority and expand it beyond your initial ‘spot’, gaining <<presence>> and the power to do more magic.”

Alden took a breath. Awesome. He’d gotten it all out. Mostly in English. And it sounded closer to right than he’d thought it would.

“I don’t know why you’re grinning. That was some of the most abstract, batshit sounding—”

“It was really very clear!”

Boe shoved up his glasses. “You sound like a snooty Artonan wizard wearing an Alden suit.”

Alden considered that. “Thank you.”

Boe smiled. “Fine. I did understand that better than the single sentence definition at least.”

“Do you want to see me do it? We can always finish the movie later.”

“No. I’m not interested at all.”

Alden undid the buckle on his leather cuff bracelet and unwrapped his auriad.

“Cool. Is that a magic string?” Boe reached out curiously.

Alden had been in the process of standing, and at the sight of a hand reaching for the auriad, he reflexively leaped backward. Only to fall over the coffee table full of snacks.

“Ow…” he said, staring up at the ceiling.

Boe stood with an amused look on his face. “Are you all right? Your Agility stats failed you hard just now.”

Alden let his left foot sweep a chip bag to the floor as he yanked his leg off the table and sat back up. “Yeah. Sorry. That was—”

Boe held up his hands. “I will not touch your magic string,” he said, the solemn voice at odds with his growing smile.

Alden climbed to his feet. “I know. I know. That looked crazy. Maybe you can touch it. I just haven’t really thought about it, and I panicked.”

“Is it delicate, or is it dangerous?”

“It’s part of me,” said Alden. “I’ve bonded with it, and we’re growing more intertwined as I practice.”

“We? Does it have a personality?” Boe asked, lowering his hands.

“No. That’s me projecting.” He looked down at his fingers. He was already absently weaving the auriad into the starting position for the elementary school graduation spell. “It’s an auriad. It’s a tool that feels sort of like an extra limb. But it’s also a deep expression of myself. Honestly, I’ve got a little bit of a security blanket thing going on with it, too.”

He took a step closer and held the interlaced string out toward his friend.

Boe regarded it cautiously.

“It’s neat. It’s almost like liquid instead of string to the touch,” Alden said, holding it in front of his nose. “I promise not to fall over the coffee table again.”

“I’m good. I’m not sure if we’re talking about me shaking hands with your soul or you offering to let me touch your favorite kidney, but either one sounds unnecessary just to satisfy my curiosity.”

Alden shrugged and lowered the auriad. “Well, move Victor off the sofa then, and watch me and my favorite kidney do something cool.”

He headed into the kitchen, his hands moving by rote. His mind was focused on manipulating his authority into the shapes that filled in the gaps in the auriad’s pattern. It felt good. Exciting. Like he was approaching the edge of a high dive, and he was already anticipating the way the water would part for him.

Yield to him.

In exactly the way that he demanded.

His free authority moved. Not as fast as his fingers could. His hand speed had surpassed his authority control by too much, but that was all right. It gave him a new goal to work toward.

He spun to face the sofa as the final design of the spell took shape. Boe was standing off to the side by the pinball machine with the cat in his arms. Alden lifted the auriad, aimed over the counter, and made sure to throw himself into the final push. He didn’t have enough free authority to hold himself back in the way he’d been able to on those final days at the lab.

But the water still parted.

Alden couldn’t see the square of force shoot across the room, but he was aware of it on another level. It was as if there was an echo of the command he’d given in the world around him that he could just barely detect. One day, maybe he’d be able to feel it more clearly.

He was staring at the exact spot he’d aimed for, so he saw the instant the back cushion of the sofa depressed, in a perfect square shape, with a thwuff sound. The whole piece of furniture rocked and fell over onto its back.

“Did you see?!” he demanded, hurrying into the living room and letting the auriad helpfully wrap itself back around his left wrist. He pointed at the fallen sofa. “That was my spell!”

Boe set the cat down. “That was sick!” His voice was almost as excited as Alden’s. “That was a hundred percent a spell that the System would never offer a Rabbit. And you’ve got it anyway!”

“I know!”

“You kicked the couch from across the room!”

“I can do it from even farther, but the aim needs a little work. It’s just the graduation spell they give wizard kids when they leave this fancy-pants elementary school on Artona I. But—”

“But if you can do that you can do so much more!”

“I know. There are like a billion spells I won’t be able to do because I’m not Artonan, but they’ve been wizarding around since the dawn of time and they’ve got more magical knowledge than anyone could ever learn anyway. So even if I’m stuck with pure hand casting and I can’t do double-brain dolphin chanting or jet off to other worlds to get potions ingredients, I’m not ever going to run out of stuff to try!”

“Can you do it again?”

“Yes! A few more times at least. Can I show you some others, too?”

******

An hour later, they sat on the floor in the wreckage of the living room. All the furniture was tipped over. Several chip bags had been used as targets, and crumbs littered the floor. There was a faint smell of smoke in the air from the little bits of paper that had been burned in lieu of candles, they both had very sanitized hands, and the last chiming notes of the song spell were fading from the air.

Victor had abandoned them to their madness long ago.

Alden laid on his stomach on an abused sofa cushion and watched Boe. His friend’s back was propped against the bottom of the overturned sofa, and he was trying to get the wax paper wrapper off a smashed caramel. He was relaxed and happy. They both were because Alden had asked if he wanted to share the emotion.

Boe had seemed surprised. Alden just thought it was the obvious thing to do.

And there was another reason…

Now’s a good time.

“Big anxiety spike,” Boe said without looking over at him. He’d been verbally identifying Alden’s emotions for a while now, maybe as an attempt to fully disclose what he was reading.

“I know. Could you shield up again?”

“Done.”

“I wanted you to know it’s fun for me. Doing magic.”

“That’s an understatement. You’ve got this very specific emotion when you do it. Like self-affirmation and a success high all rolled up together. I haven’t felt anything quite like it before.”

Alden took a deep breath. [My affixations hurt now.]

Boe’s fingers stopped prying at the caramel wrapper. His eyes met Alden’s.

[I don’t know why I’m texting it. I guess it’s easier. When the System does my affixations now, I can feel it. Changing me.]

“Oh,” Boe said quietly.

[The work the Artona I Contract did on me after I got back from all that time away was… I couldn’t even use my skill after it happened. Not until a couple of weeks ago. And it’s still this thing that…sometimes I can’t sleep. I don’t want to talk about it. But I did want you to understand why I freaked out yesterday when you were trying to tell me about U-type affixations. And why I’m not sure about teaching anyone else.]

Boe hadn’t looked away.

Alden did himself, letting his eyes fall on the dirty floor.

“Anyway,” he said after clearing his throat. “Now that I’m back in action again, I’ve been memorizing new spells. I think I’ll be able to cast a couple of them really soon. There’s this one that just crushes the hell out of stuff. Close range. Baseball-sized crush zone. Sphere or pancake depending on how I adjust it. I think it’s going to be like having permanent access to a hydraulic press. I’m going to flatten all the things. I don’t know how practical it will really be in everyday life—”

“Extreme crushing doesn’t have to be practical,” Boe said in a casual voice. “You should just enjoy it.”

Alden smiled. “Right. Also—close range flash freezing. I’ve got both of those down, and I’m basically just waiting until my authority develops enough so that I can do them.”

“The freezing spell goes well with your new passion for keeping inappropriate things in your pockets.”

“Exactly! I can make frozen food and keep it frozen. All I need is a spell to heat it back up, and I’m a one-man kitchen.”

“You can make tiny flames,” Boe pointed out. “Just learn to cook over an open fire, and you’re set.”

Alden gasped. “I’m amazing.”

“You’re shaping up to be the ideal camping buddy if nothing else. You even entertain people with finger songs.”

“The spell I plan to memorize after those is very similar to the graduation spell. It makes a sharper force shape, a triangle that flies through the air like a thrown dagger. Spells that cut and smash in different ways seem to be particularly common uses for auriads, but they aren’t the only kinds. There’s an honest-to-goodness object summoning spell at the end of the book. I’m absolutely drooling over it.”

Anything in your line of sight below a certain size could be summoned.

They talked about some of the other spells Alden was looking forward to, and then, out of the blue, Boe asked, “Does having the tattoo bother you?”

Alden looked at him in surprise. “In what way?”

“In any way.”

“The level of restrictiveness I agreed to is inconvenient,” Alden said after thinking about it briefly. “There are a lot of things I can’t say that I would like to tell a few people. Like you. But I did agree to it. And I got a lot in exchange. I honestly think the wizard who made the contract with me was…more than I was ready to deal with. But he was fair to me other than that.”

“So no lingering contract-specific negative associations,” said Boe. “Do people give you a lot of shit for having it?”

“I haven’t shown it to many humans other than you and Jeremy. The doctor who did my physical exam for CNH was appropriate about ignoring it. And I know the worst you two are going to think is that I was a dumbass who got in over my head. Not that I agreed to a private contract because I was committing murders off-the-record, or that I took money in exchange for letting some creep do experiments on me.”

“Yeah, I assume the most common use of them is to protect sensitive info instead of covering dark deeds. Or that they’re fake and the Artonan-obsessives who have them just wish wizards wanted to tat match with them.”

Alden brightened. “I’m getting one on my face!”

“Excuse me, what?”

“With Kibby! When she gets her summoning rights for the first time, I’m going to be her first Avowed summons. And the entire purpose of the mission will be matching facial tattoos.”

“What will the contract be?” Boe asked slowly.

“Eternal friendship and respect,” Alden said. “It’s all decided.”

“When is this happening?”

“More than a decade from now most likely. But it’s happening.”

“Okay. You look really excited about having blue ink on your face forever, so…way to go. Also that makes me feel much less worried about what I was about to ask you. Can you make a magical contract with someone? Like can you do the wizard part of it?”

“I don’t really know how to. Kibby kept asking me for one because she thought it would be like an authority handshake with magic ink added. And I do think it’s probably something pretty simple at the core. But I don’t know how. I understand how tattoo design works, but I think to make it all come together I’d need instructions.”

“Do you have any way to get those kinds of instructions without risking revealing your wizardness?”

Alden considered it. “I’m not sure. I could ask some people I know really general questions ‘just out of curiosity’ and hope the answers were enough to go on. I could try to buy a magic book with the info in it—”

“Oh yes trying to shop some kind of Avowed magical black market is a very smart thing to do for someone in your position,” Boe said sarcastically.

“Or I could trial and error it. We might end up looking like the walls in a public bathroom before I got done. I’m assuming you’re asking because you want one with me?”

Boe nodded. “I spent all day trying to negotiate with the System. Shithead didn’t give me so much as an exclamation point in answer. Finally, I asked if I could tell you everything without losing its help if I formed a wizard’s contract with you, and it woke up.”

“It actually agreed?” Alden asked, surprised. And impressed. He hadn’t realized you could successfully negotiate with Earth. Maybe he needed to try harder in the future.

“It sent me a picture of those concentric triangles on your chest. And the words, ‘Yes. If you both make not revealing the information to anyone else in the future part of the bargain.’”

“Oh. So it only agreed because in that scenario you telling me would actually give us both less freedom to do what we want than we have now. That checks out.”

“A surefire, ‘Shut Boe up,’ solution seems to be really tempting for it. I guess making myself less of a future variable must take a load off its plate.”

Alden pushed himself up from his cushion. “Is this big secret something you actually want to tell me? Or is it something you feel like you have to do for my sake? Because if it’s the second, then I don’t need it.”

“I regretted a lot of things when you disappeared. This was one. I want to.”

“Then I’ll figure it out. I don’t think I’ll manage it before you leave, though. I can’t possibly get the info I need in the next few days, unless the System’s willing to give me the instructions itself. System, could you do that?”

[No.]

Boe looked startled. “It answered on my interface, too.”

Group chat with the System. What an afternoon.

“Can we not just do a magical contract through you somehow?” Alden asked. “System-moderated. You’re the Contract for an entire planet. This should be right up your alley.”

[You completing such an agreement yourselves will produce a more ideal result.]

“Why?” Alden and Boe asked at the same time.

The System didn’t answer.

Of course not.

“It’s a good idea for you to learn anyway,” Boe said. “If you’re going to wizard, you should wizard all the way. And I would sleep much better if you would contract lock a lot of the news you’ve already given me in my head.”

“You sound like Kibby. ‘Contract with me, Alden! I will not reveal your secrets even under torture.’”

“She does sound cool. By the way, where are all these alien kid videos that you’ve been promising me?”   


********Notes ********  

First, if you're heading to the next chapter, it's here: CHAPTER 87 - Hero Types

Second, a note I wrote that I particularly like at the end of this last chapter here about Telstar:   "I want to inform you that when I was looking for the song that should play in the background of the pre-Artonan montage, I typed in January 1963 Billboard, and sometimes the universe just delivers.   Because there was Telstar. Right at the top. A sci-fi instrumental piece written in honor of a communications satellite. Which is so completely the perfect thing that it's better than any fake song backstory I could have invented.   

Telstar 1 died prematurely due to the fact that the poor boy got launched right into all the radiation left behind from an outerspace bombing test the U.S. had conducted the day before called Starfish Prime. It transmitted data for a few months before giving up, and now the little deathstar-looking orbital child is still up there, watching us all from above.  

By the way, when the warhead for Starfish Prime went off, the electromagnetic pulse knocked out streetlights and phones in Hawaii, where some hotels were hosting parties so that people could view the funky-colored aurora caused by the explosion.   Sometimes, I think I'm just not creative enough to keep up with the weirdness of our reality."

Third, gosh I loved going back over the Boe/Alden chapters. I really love the character development in this part of the story, and I hope the people meeting it for the first time or re-reading it will, too. Thanks to all of you for your commentary when they were being posted.   

Fourth, I will revise the others, but I won't do big posts like this unless there's another major change somewhere. I just happen to have these all loaded up and ready to go because I was working on them in a batch to make sure I liked how they were being presented. The ones after this will most likely be given the quick revision right before they post on Royal Road.  

I hope you enjoyed your read!