ONE HUNDRED TEN: The Chainer, II

110   “Hazel’s your aunt?” said Alden, selecting a few of his favorite things out of a bag of trail mix. It was only the two of them in the apartment since Lexi was spending the night with his family and Haoyu was still hanging out with his mom. They’d had the driver drop them off at a grocery store near campus, and they’d bought snacks. Alden was just picking at his. He was too full of wevvi to really enjoy it. “Yeah,” said Lute, prying the foil lid off a second cup of flan. “Genetically, she’s Aulia’s daughter. Which means she’s sort of Hugh’s aunt, too, even though Hugh is the guy she calls her dad. And she calls Corin her grandpa, but he’s technically her brother.” “Immortal families are so…different.” “I do know it’s weird to people from families that aren’t into deliberately breeding wonderkids, but it doesn’t actually feel like a huge deal when you grow up with it. Aulia calls Hazel her granddaughter, and that’s just how it is. I don’t even think about it much until I have to start explaining it to someone else. And Hazel’s really proud of who her genetic parents are…oh, but her mom, Cady? She freaks out if anyone brings it up.” He licked the back of his spoon. “I think maybe she wanted Hazel’s real parentage to be a secret? She wanted to be the mother of a super super child, so she asked to do it this way. But she also wanted everyone to think she’d made an S-rank without assistance like Hugh’s first wife did with Orpheus. If that is what she hoped for, I don’t know who decided to make it common knowledge…probably Hugh trying to prove something to someone else in the family.” Alden smiled and nodded politely. He’d done that a lot during Lute’s explanation because what else was there to do? “Anyway, people being appalled about the members of the family with unusual origins wouldn’t bother me, except for the things they say about my mom. They act like she’s not a person herself, just some kind of punishment Aulia got for pushing it too far. You’ll note the Grandwitch didn’t try for the Artonan look again after Jessica. Hazel’s so human-averaged that I wonder if they didn’t ask her designers to remove any features that might remind people of Aulia’s whiff.” And that was yet another subject Alden had no idea how to comment on. I thought your mom looked kind of pretty in an older, semi-alien way, was so not the right thing. Aulia’s gene people undershot the height, though, didn’t they? was even worse. Artonans tended to be petite by human standards, but a significant part of that was due to the fact that they were less sexually dimorphic than humans when it came to body size. When they’d last met, Stuart was around… 5’1”? An inch taller? It wasn’t like Alden had pulled out a measuring stick and asked the Primary’s son to hold still. Alden didn’t know if Stuart was still growing or not, but he was a pretty normal height for an adult on the Triplanets whether they were male or female. Jessica could’ve been the same height and fit in well with both Artonans and humans, assuming that was what Aulia’s goal had been. Maybe they couldn’t select for height that specifically so they erred on the side of extra short so that she’d match up with the Artonans for sure? Still…why? It seemed unnecessary no matter how Alden looked at it. The only thing that made even a little bit of sense was the possibility that Aulia had expected her daughter to be so in-demand as an Avowed that she would end up living on the Triplanets more than Earth. Which would mean she’d had Jessica’s entire future job, home planet, and lifestyle planned out before she was born. Somehow that seemed even worse, when Alden really thought about it, than Aulia picking such uncommon physical features for her. Nobody got to select their own natural starting appearance anyway. Everyone just made do with what they got, loving it or modifying as best they could. But we’re supposed to get to choose the other stuff for ourselves, as much as the world will let us. Avowed were already dealing with a lot of limitations. Having your mother plan your entire life out for you before you were even born on top of that? “What did Aulia expect you to be?” Alden asked Lute. “Did they have some other job picked out for you before you found out you were an Avowed?” “You mean like how they had all the other children in the family stacked with tutors, and they started taking Hazel to meet her future employers when she was eight?” “I just assumed it went for you, too.” “It was different,” said Lute. “With everyone else there was this struggle—to impress Grandma, to earn one of the Chainer class assignments, to beat Miyo and Roman.” “Miyo and Roman?” “There was no point in any of them trying to beat Hazel, so nobody ever bothered. She has a legit psychic something going on, and apparently that’s the level of exceptionality Aulia has been aiming to breed into the family for years. And not just Grandwitch…other key relatives seem involved with it, too.” He wrinkled his nose. “I never wanted to ask for details, but I’m sure my mother was an early attempt. She said she’d tell me who my maternal grandfather was when I was older, but I stopped caring a while ago. I doubt it was Hazel’s donor, Sonde. He would’ve been kind of young, and they wouldn’t have reused him if he’d sired a normal human. But it was probably someone like him. Not just a Rank 1, but one known for unusual mental abilities.” “I see,” said Alden. “That’s interesting.” “You’re so polite, man.” “I just assume half the kids our age around here were at least a little modified prior to becoming Avowed,” Alden admitted. “It’s really different from what I’m used to, but…” “It’s not that many. Plenty of people are still romantic about making children the old-fashioned way. And the ones who do take it as far as my family are usually shyer about admitting to it than Aulia and company are.” Lute slurped down another spoonful of flan. “Some of them won’t even tell their kids. But you were asking about Miyo and Roman—cousins, obviously. They’re around our age, and they’re also…I don’t know how to say it. Of good stock?” “You probably should say it some other way.” Lute shrugged. “They’re both really smart, super dedicated to chaining, and family-oriented. Aulia adores them. They were the grandchildren for the others to beat, after Hazel. I haven’t ever been close to either of them, but they’ve been on my mind more lately. Roman seriously got screwed. He scored an S, instead of the A that was more likely for him, and Hazel was still waiting…” “Ohhhh, he’s the one who got passed over,” said Alden. He experienced an unexpected sympathy pang for the Velra guy he’d never met. “He spent his entire childhood aiming for A-rank Chainer? Got an S? And got…” “They actually gave him Rabbit,” said Lute. “He told them to go fuck themselves unless they got him Healer of Body, which—” Alden winced. “Yeah…we’re the people to see if you want a hard to get class, but Healers? Even if they’re not the rarest, people click yes the millisecond they find out they’ve hit that jackpot. They couldn’t swing it for him. Not at his rank. And I know they must have been trying like hell because Corin’s office handles class purchases and he’d feed Hazel his own liver if she said she was feeling peckish. He must’ve been sweating rivers, thinking Roman might get the big Chainer instead of her.” “What the hell is so great about Chainer?” Alden asked. “No offense…it’s a cool class. Knowing what little I do, I’m thinking you have some amazing perks and job security. But for your Grandma to want Hazel slotted into it so badly…” “I don’t know. I have a lot of suspicions now that I’ve actually seen how things work. I doubt this is the whole story, but I think the ultimate goal might be to monopolize Chainer.” “I gathered that,” said Alden. “The whole world has gathered that.” Lute laughed. “No, no…you don’t get it. When I say ‘monopolize Chainer’ I don’t just mean Aulia’s trying to make sure nobody else on Anesidora gets it. I mean I think we might really be trying to utterly monopolize Chainer. In the universal sense.” Alden stared at him. “You mean including the other resource worlds?” “Yeah,” said Lute. “It might be the only class it’s even possible to do it with. Chainer is already ultra rare on Earth, but it doesn’t even exist on most planets.” He held up his hands and wiggled his fingers at Alden. “There are some unique anatomical requirements if you want to be good at the whole job instead of just parts of it.” “You have to have Artonan-looking hands,” Alden said. “Of course. And it would be twisted and weird for them to attach arms to a ewtwee or something.” “The ewtwee would not like that much,” Lute agreed. “Most species without at least eight fingers and something like thumbs don’t even bother to try wordchains. They can sometimes make it work, but it would be like us trying to dig a sleeping burrow with our toenails. Not completely impossible, but why would we put ourselves through that?” “So of the large population species that leaves…tmithans and I guess the Fetuna…are lortchish hands too long?” “They aren’t,” said Lute. “They’re quite good at wordchains. But they’ve also got some strong beliefs, protected by their Contract, that make it hard for the Palace to use them in all the ways they’d like. Same with the Fetuna. Their species practices wordchains widely and respectfully. Parethat-uur loves them, and apparently they’ve produced some amazing Chainers. But they refuse to be seen by aliens once they reach maturity, which makes them hard to handle. I think Parethat-uur would happily chatter away at them through blindfolds or walls, but most people find that kind of thing inconvenient.” “So it’s the tmithans,” Alden said. “And us. And some rarer species.” “That’s right. Until humans came along, the Avowed of Tmith more or less had Chainer jobs all to themselves. And then the Palace took a peek at Earth and thought, ‘Wow. Look at those aliens. Those are some gorgeous bastards. Let’s introduce them to our holy purpose.’” Alden laughed. Lute snorted. “Seriously. I’m surprised they didn’t send wordchain missionaries over to proselytize the whole planet. I bet the Grand Senate told them to chill out and stay away from us until we’d had time to settle in.” He coughed. “Uh…I have a tmithan coworker. He is so xenophobic against humans.” “What? Why?” “In his defense, the only humans he’s ever met are my family members. So it’s probably their fault. And if I’m right about the monopolization thing, Aulia’s on a long-term mission to make herself Queen of the only Chainer clan in the universe…” He drummed his fingers. “Anyway, that’s the thing about Chainer, or it’s my best guess right now. Maybe Hazel is like her proof of concept? Her way of saying humans are better at this than anyone else. Not just humans either. Our family.” “You think she wants you to be the exclusive Chainers for all of the Triplanets. Is that even a possibility? They would have to take the class away from other planets, and even if they did, class assignments are supposed to be random here on Earth. You guys will eventually lose some of them to people who don’t want to join the family.” “Yeah,” said Lute. “That’s how it’s supposed to be. But things can change. And the Palace of Unbreaking is a really unique institution. If Aulia could get more Hazels, if she could get the Palace onboard to manage the Artonan end of things and she can manage the Earth half…it’s long-term, like I said. But it doesn’t sound completely impossible considering what a thorough job she’s already doing.” “So Roman the S-rank who’s spent his whole life learning wordchains got Rabbit,” Alden concluded. “Because Hazel has to get Chainer. Because she’s the one with the special ability that proves Velras are naturally suited for it, and Aulia needs her to be at the Palace all the time to keep that fact front and center.” “That’s my theory. It makes sense doesn’t it?” “I see,” said Alden with a straight face. “That’s interesting.” Lute crumpled the foil lid up and tossed it at him. “Miyo hasn’t been selected yet,” he said. “I really hope she doesn’t get S. The Artonans probably aren’t going to throw another top rank position at Earth anytime soon unless someone dies, so if she does…it’ll be Roman all over again. She’s just as Chainer-obsessed as he is. If she gets A, the adults have got a slot with her name on it ready and waiting. But if it’s S, she’s going to hate me forever.” “After hearing all of this,” Alden said, “I’m kind of surprised they gave you the Chainer S.” “You mean because I only knew six wordchains, hadn’t been trained, had a fractious relationship with Grandma and the entire rest of my family, would’ve preferred several other classes, and don’t speak Artonan?” Lute said dryly. “Those would seem to disqualify you if you’ve got other cousins lined up.” Especially if Hazel wasn’t completely out of the running. “That’s because you’re missing another piece of it,” said Lute. “Or you just haven’t realized how much it matters. Maybe it’s one of those things Lexi and Haoyu are always teasing you about—an Anesidora social dynamic. We’ll get there.” ****** ****** Narcissus House Watergarden Road Apex January 9, 2034 ****** ****** Lute Velra was going to third grade. Real third grade. At a school. His mother had delivered the news a couple of weeks before Christmas. Now it was the first day, and the knowledge of what was about to happen to him was so surreal he felt like he was dressing another person’s body in the new uniform. The summer uniform for primary students at Nilama Paragon Academy. Which was a school. For children. Avowed children. Whole roomfuls of them. He was scared and excited and more scared than excited but both feelings were definitely present and— “Don’t forget the pocket square!” his mother’s voice called from just outside the bedroom door. She was standing out there because Lute could dress himself, thank you. He was eight. In a couple of weeks, he’d be nine. Being born in January was an advantage for him, according to his mother, because he would be one of the oldest in his grade. He would not have trouble with the lessons, she promised. His tutors up until now would have been sufficient. “What if they all speak Mandarin better than me?” Lute had asked in Mandarin while they decorated one of the mansion’s Christmas trees together. “They won’t,” Jessica had assured him. “What if they speak German better than me?” “They probably will if their parents were born in Germany. Don’t worry about it. Your teacher will be speaking English anyway.” “What if they speak English better than me?” “English is your first language, Lute.” “That will make it even worse!” he’d said shrilly. Now, he picked up the pocket square from where it sat on top of his duvet and tucked it into place. He walked over to the dressing mirror and examined himself carefully. In summer, primary students wore heather gray waistcoats, collared white shirts with short or long sleeves, clip-on sapphire blue ties, gray shorts or pants, and any closed-toe shoe of their preference. Third graders wore yellow pocket squares. The square color would change every year. In winter, there were coats or sweaters. In middle school, there were blazers. Lute was focusing on the clothes because so far they were the only real clue he had about what school would be like. “Are you dressed yet?” Jessica called. “Yes, Mom!” The door opened. His mother smiled at the sight of him. “Aren’t you handsome?” “What if the teacher won’t let me go to the bathroom?” “They will.” “What if one of the cousins decides to go to school, too?” “You’ll be the only member of the family there. I promise.” “What if—?” She swooped down on him and lifted him in a hug. “Mom! You’ll wrinkle me!” She kissed him on the forehead. “Come on. Grandma has presents for you before you leave. Let’s go see her.” Lute was surprised. He hadn’t even seen much of Aulia during Christmastime, since she’d been busy on Artona I. With Hazel again. And he’d already been told that she wouldn’t be available for his birthday this year. It didn’t sting anymore. Much. He and his mother were a team. But he wished they were the only team in the household sometimes. Grandma Aulia and his mom were also a team. When Aulia wasn’t on the Triplanets, Jessica was with her more often than not. Or running errands for her. Or trying to make the other relatives do whatever Lute’s grandmother wanted them to do. A lot of family members were loafers. Lute had heard Aulia tell Jessica and Aunt Hikari so during a very rare “girls night in.” She’d said that she “despaired of the loafers ever becoming anything useful to anyone.” Jessica was not a loafer. She was Aulia’s Principal Assistant. It was an important job, which was why Jessica had the second best suites in every house they lived in. And also why Lute would be getting a cabin of his own on Libra when he turned ten, even though they were in such short supply and other family members coveted them. He thought it was Orpheus who was going to be kicked out. For being the loafiest loafer and for falling down the stairs a couple of months ago and landing on top of Chef Kabir. “Grandma’s in the White Parlor,” Jessica told Lute, sending him out the door with a pat. “Go get your presents.” Lute Velra was no stranger to presents. He’d once heard an uncle mutter, “God, Jessica spoils him rotten, doesn’t she?” And Orpheus, drinking something that smelled like mouthwash out of a crystal punch glass, had laughed and said, “Do you think you can actually spoil a squirt like him with things? On this island? In this family?” Lute had thought about the two comments so much that he felt like he almost understood them. He walked down the curving stairs into the White Parlor, a small hand trailing along the glossy railing, and he found his grandmother there alone. She was dressed in a tight black short-sleeved sweater and black cropped jeans. Her feet, in black ballet flats, were propped up on one of the downy white pillows. Her dark blonde hair was side parted, and her face, younger than Lute’s mother’s, wore that familiar, lovely smile. “Lute, my dove!” said Aulia Velra, setting down the croissant she’d been having with her first coffee of the morning and standing to greet him. “Don’t you look like a fine young man, today? Off to school! Come here and let me give you a hug.” Lute smiled back. He ran to hug her eagerly. Aulia gave wonderful hugs. Like Jessica’s, but taller. “Grandma, I’m going to be in third—” “Nope!” said Aulia, letting the word pop off her lips as she took a step back. “First, you have to impress me. I wore this outfit just for you! It’s time for our little fashion game.” Oh! Lute loved this. They hadn’t done this in a while, but it was special. He was the only one who got to play this game with Grandma Aulia. He knew some of the others had their own personal games with his grandmother, but he thought his was the best. He squinted at her clothes, thinking hard. It was such a simple outfit, compared to some he’d seen. Tight. Black on black. A big belt accentuating the pinch of her waist. He knew he had seen the style before because if she was wearing one for the first time for their game, she would explain it instead of asking him to guess. But the name… “A hint!” said Aulia, reaching over the back of a low chair and grabbing a black beret from the seat. She set it at a playful angle on top of her head. Then she stood leaning against the chair with her ankles crossed, waiting. “Beatnik!” shouted Lute, finally capturing the word. “You’re a Beatnik!” He had absolutely no idea what one was, but this was what one looked like. “Hooray!” cried Aulia, throwing the hat into the air. “Perfect! I’ll have to try something harder next time.” Lute felt like he was the only person in Aulia’s world. She was very good at doing that. For the next half hour, they opened presents and talked about harps and the beat generation and schools… “I am very experienced with schools,” said Aulia, poking a piece of croissant into Lute’s mouth as they cuddled together on the sofa. “I went to one from five to fifteen! Ten whole years. And let me tell you, it’s tough work. You’d better try hard.” “I will,” Lute said seriously. “Almost none of your aunts, uncles, or cousins have gone to school until they were adults on their way to college. Well…there was Keiko. But Keiko made such a lot of noise about the fact that she was going to high school for such a long time that we were all bored with it by the time she finally got around to it.” She winked at him. “Don’t tell her I said that, though.” “Keiko’s never here.” “That’s because Keiko is still making a lot of noise about running away from the family,” Aulia said. “It’s what she does. You’re different. You are going to one of the best schools in the whole entire country! And you’re only eight. I’m very proud of you, Lute.” Lute wriggled closer to her. The praise was so warm. “Now, I know your mother has had a few little talks with you about school, but let me give you some advice of my own. Do you know who you’ll be going to school with?” “Other boys and girls who are eight.” “Yes. And what else do you know about them?” “A lot of them have important parents.” Aulia nodded, but he could tell from her face that the answer wasn’t sufficient. “They’ll all know each other already.” A nod. “They’ll know lots about us because you’re on the Council.” Another nod. Lute suspected he knew what she wanted him to say, but he mentioned every other thing about the children he’d be meeting today first, in hopes that he wouldn’t have to. Finally, there was nothing else left. “None of them are going to be ordinary when they grow up,” he whispered. “Just me.” “But you won’t be ordinary, my dove,” said Aulia, holding him close. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. You are, and always will be, a Velra. And I’m sure as you meet more of the world, you’ll come to see how very wonderful that is. Because I have built this family into something bigger than its individual members. Even if you are the weakest and the least of the Velras, you are still one of us, and we are more important than any of those children you are going to school with.” Lute looked down at his shoes. Something about this reassurance didn’t feel quite as good as his grandmother seemed to think it should. “Your family is your power, Lute. And it’s more power than you know. As long as you take care of the Velra name, it will take care of you.” “How do I take care of our name?” he asked. “Oh well…” said Aulia. “It’s nothing you have to work too hard at just yet. Study. Don’t get into trouble. Make some nice friends at your new school. It’s a good place for you to meet people who will be somebodies one day, and everyone needs to know a few somebodies. When you grow up, you can do the same sort of work for us as your mother. You’ll be my Cabin 3! How does that sound?” “Good,” Lute said slowly. “Can I…if I live in Cabin 3, can I still visit Austria?” Aulia tilted her head. “Austria. The country in Europe?” “I might want to go there someday,” Lute said nervously. “To play my harp.” Aulia smiled. “Dear, you can play your harp wherever you want!” Chuckling, she added to herself, “Austria. How random!” Before his mother came to get him a few minutes later, Aulia helped him tuck his new presents into his new backpack. His first cell phone, a tablet, a smartwatch, an emergency locator medallion he was to wear under his shirt at all times—everything a young man needed before he went out into Anesidora on his own. “And one more thing,” said Aulia, producing a shiny red card out of thin air. Lute’s eyes fixed on it at once. The best presents always got teleported in that way for dramatic effect. “I’ll be quite busy for the rest of this month, so I’m afraid I won’t be able to attend whatever exciting event you decide to put on for your birthday. But this should make up for it!” She passed him the card. “It’s a NesiCard,” Lute said. He hadn’t had one before because he’d never gone anywhere without a grown-up. But he’d seen his mother’s and father’s. And his cousins’. “It’s your very own NesiCard!” Aulia said enthusiastically as she handed it to him. “And guess how much money is on it?” Lute gave the question due consideration. Hazel had gotten one with a thousand argold on it for Christmas. She had kept finding excuses to put things in and out of her wallet so that she could show it off. He didn’t want to guess that much because it would be so embarrassing if he was wrong. “Is it…a hundred argold?” “Oh! You think I’m a cheap old lady, don’t you?” Aulia teased. Then she leaned over and whispered in his ear, “It’s a thousand. And you can spend every last bit of it every day if you want to, and it’ll be filled again by the time you wake up in the morning.” He stared down at the piece of plastic with the enchanted chip in the center. “How does that sound?” Aulia asked him. He nodded. “Give me another hug before you go. The helicopter is waiting for you.” Lute hugged her goodbye. He flew to school beside his mother in the back of the family’s helicopter. It landed on the pad of a building near the school, and they walked the rest of the way together. “Did Grandma give you the NesiCard?” Jessica asked. “She did. I’ll be careful with it.” “Don’t worry. They’re easy to replace if they get lost…you don’t seem excited.” “Oh I am!” Lute said quickly. “She said it had a thousand argold on it, and it would be refilled every day. If I wanted.” “That’s a lot of money,” said Jessica. “Yes.” “Don’t really spend a thousand argold in a day without talking to me first. If you buy more toys than will fit in your rooms, you’ll have to get rid of some of them.” She held his hand most of the way, but when they reached the school she let him go in alone. He waved until the moment the doors shut between them. Then his smile fell. He was glad he had his own money now. He didn’t have that many things he wanted, since Christmas had just happened and his birthday was coming. It was still a big present though, wasn’t it? But… She called me the least of the Velras. He hadn’t been able to think of anything else on his whole way to school. Not even his nerves. Grandma said that. But she loves me. We played our game. Maybe…she didn’t mean it. Maybe she meant the least in one specific way. Not the least least. Probably, she meant it like that. ****** School was WONDERFUL. Third grade was the best thing that had ever...