EIGHTY-SEVEN: Incautious Caring

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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 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…he had always demanded such impossible things from himself. Loneliness 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?

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“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!”