THIRTY-EIGHT: Hedonistic

THIRTY-EIGHT

Hedonistic

 

Alden was supposed to meet Bti-qwol in a specific room of a building that looked like a concrete beehive. But she met his cart on the path before it even arrived at the door and practically yanked him out of it, shouting, <<Finally!>>

“I’m half an hour early,” Alden protested, jogging so that she wouldn’t actually be dragging him along behind her.

<<There is no time,>> she babbled. <<None at all! People are injuring themselves for no reason. The designer sent an assistant instead of coming himself. I had to order a new singer. One of the professors is disappointed in the tmithans I chose for him.>>

Alden decided to keep his mouth shut. The alien personnel manager looked like she was on the edge of either tears or violence, and since he was already committed for this event, he might as well try for a smooth experience.

<<You must be exceptionally careful tonight, Alden Ryeh-b’t. You have no social recommendations, and this is a difficult event.>>

“I’m a waiter, right? Like I’ll be carrying food to people? As long as I don’t drop it….”

<<NO!>> she said, looking aghast. <<You are an Avowed waiter. You are there to create an impression. There are always thirteen Avowed waiters at this event. People expect to see them at LeafSong. It’s a tradition!>>

“If it’s that important, maybe one of the others…?”

Bti-qwol’s nostrils flared. <<I have planned it thoroughly. The kitchen is already preparing things that take advantage of your preservation skill. As long as you use your skill correctly and do not distract the other Avowed from their performance, that will be enough.>>

She whisked him into the beehive. It was a natural history museum. Colorful lanterns, tables, and sprays of green and black plant life were artfully mixed in among the exhibits. And Alden stared up in awe at an enormous, magically suspended skeleton overhead.

Alien whale? The charcoal gray bones moved silently, swimming without ever going anywhere, and the sharp spines that must have protruded from the creature’s sides in life were tipped with shining points that caught the light.

They wove through a jungle of potted plants, around glass cases full of fossils and alien animal models that moved so smoothly Alden wasn’t really sure they were models. Then she led him through a hidden door, and they took a large elevator down a level to the place where all the work seemed to be getting done. People were racing around with carts full of decorations and padded boxes full of museum pieces.

Bti-qwol bulled her way through the chaos, telling everyone that her business was urgent and earning quite a few withering looks from Artonans who were clearly engaged in their own urgent business. A minute later, Alden found himself in a room that looked like a hastily assembled hair salon.

When it said to arrive early for a uniform, I wasn’t expecting a full makeover.

He’d thought he would be taken to a closet full of spare shirts so that he could try them on. Or something similar. Of course, he’d also thought that being waitstaff meant being waitstaff, and apparently that wasn’t quite right.

He was stuffed into a chair by a tiny old woman with dark purple-brown skin and a lot of beaded necklaces. She gave him wevvi in a wooden bowl and started examining him through a pair of glasses with square rims.

<<Nice,>> she said, pinching his cheek lightly. At his startled look, she stood on her tiptoes and peered deeply into his eyes. <<Pretty.>>

“Thanks?”

<<Good strong back?>> she asked. <<Hard worker?>>

“Is that important?” he replied after a moment’s hesitation.

<<What are the arms like?>> she muttered to herself, squeezing one of Alden’s through his shirt and making a disappointed sound.

I think a four-foot tall centenarian is disappointed in my upper body strength.

The only thing keeping his feelings from being a little hurt was his confusion. She was doing his hair or something, right? Not hiring him to tend the oxen on her family’s farm.

As if she’d read his mind, she dug all of her fingers into his hair. <<Lots of this,>> she said.

A vivid image of Stuart’s half-bald, half French-braided look popped into Alden’s mind, and he shuddered. He was so busy trying to think of ways to convince her not to try that particular style out on him, that it took him a while to notice the old lady’s mirror was measuring him while he sat there.

A network of red lines had appeared on top of his reflection, and there were Artonan numbers out to the side. Why would anyone need to know the length of my nose?

Bti-qwol was standing by the mirror, examining one of the three inset screens. Alden couldn’t see around her to the one she was looking at, but the others showed what appeared to be designs for armor and prosthetic add-ons for his face.

Alden suddenly realized that he would be wearing an elaborate costume tonight.

Unexpectedly, the idea brightened his mood a little. It was stressful to be doing a social event at all. And he was still frustrated and worried to be here at a party instead of on Moon Thegund where he was actually needed instead of some convenient piece to complete the special magic number of Avowed Bti-qwol had in mind.

But judging by the designs, it looked like his costumer was planning to put him in a set of green scale armor. That was kind of cool. A decent costume would give him a starting point for conversations at least, and—

<<This is no good,>> Bti-qwol said, her tone dismissive as she swiped away whatever was on the screen she’d been peering at. <<I have decided that his entertainment for the night will be his skill. The kitchen has already been informed that they have to make use of it with the food. A costume like this will draw attention to him instead of whatever he’s carrying. Make it simpler.>>

<<The green Ryeh-b’t is popular,>> the old woman said absently. <<Costume changes color throughout the night to represent the journey from youth to adulthood. Very appropriate for a young human! I spent all afternoon designing the effect. It’s nice.>>

<<I just said it’s no good,>> Bti-qwol argued.

<<The joint claws are carved from bone, and the scales are coated with powdered—>>

<<I don’t care how you cobbled it together! I don’t want him to be the focus of attention,>> Bti-qwol argued. <<He’s just going to be a backdrop for the culinary special effects. Make it subtle. Maybe a beige Ryeh-b’t to match the museum walls. And tuck the wings.>>

<<I’m an artist. Not a technician!>>

<<You’re just a fill-in the costume company sent,>> Bti-qwol said dismissively. <<Have you ever even costumed an alien? Make it beige. You have a short while to redesign it while I go through the rules of service with him.>>

The old lady made an angry noise and stomped over to her screens. Alden gave her an apologetic look in the mirror.

Bti-qwol had whipped out her tablet and now she was talking rapidly about what he’d be doing. She had an annoying habit of micromanaging the assignment so that every single step of the evening became a part of the quest. Timers were popping up in front of his eyes for every little thing. There were even an alloted number of minutes for his bathroom breaks.

This is incredibly obnoxious, he thought, watching the timers minimize themselves into a string of green lights in his peripheral vision. The System here on Artona III did a good job of presenting him with information when he needed it and keeping it out of his way when he didn’t, but he much preferred Joe’s method of giving a broad assignment and then offering advice on how to complete it rather than a bunch of official quest steps.

Alden would naturally have been polite to guests who spoke to him at the party. Being ordered to do it, complete with a reminder that would flash over peoples’ heads, made him want to act like a barbarian to spite Bti-qwol.

He distracted himself by shoving his hand into his pocket and swapping Joe’s magic ring from finger to finger. It was capable of resizing itself, but not infinitely. It was too loose on his pinkies.

He’d spent the whole of the afternoon lab session playing with its magic by subtly manipulating the bottle full of pills he had neglected to take during his emergency teleport. Joe had said the ring would make up for the lost dexterity stat from the coat, and that had led Alden to believe it would work similarly.

It was a completely different effect, though. It was like anything he held in the hand with the ring on it didn’t want him to let go of it. Everything clung to his fingers for just a fraction of a second after he’d dropped it. Heavy or light, the weight of object didn’t seem to matter much. Alden had tried it out on some of the lab equipment after the students left, and he’d almost broken a beaker trying to show Sophie how he could splay all his fingers, and it would hang for an instant, pressed against his palm like it had been glued there.

To his disappointment, the sticky effect didn’t work on items he was currently preserving. If his skill was active, it was like the ring wasn’t there at all. But at least it would keep him from dropping the items when they weren’t in the preservation state.

By the time Bti-qwol left, there were a couple of humans from the boater and a lortch present. They were getting dressed in their own costumes with help from an Artonan man. One of the boater members had arrived with her makeup already done, so they clearly knew the drill from previous years or had been prepped for it over the course of the week. She had a river of purple paint running in a line down the center of her face.

One of the lortch was in a leather costume absolutely bristling with short blades. Maybe he’s a Meister of Knives? Since Alden was going to be a Ryeh-b’t it seemed reasonable to assume the other Avowed would have class specific outfits.

Chris from the boater was taking an elaborate headdress covered in gears out of a box, and he was a Wright so it seemed like a good guess.

The old woman waited until Bti-qwol had been gone for a long while before she started speaking again. She was flinging makeup brushes around with a lot of force and breathing rather loudly for such a small person.

<<I’m an artist,>> she told Alden as she swiped away the image of the beige and brown robe and wing set Bti-qwol had approved with a wrinkled hand.

“I…she’s probably just really stressed out,” he said placatingly.

He didn’t know if the woman had a translator or not because she kept right on steaming as she started opening drawers and slapping packets and bottles onto the table beside her.

<<‘Have you ever costumed an alien?’>> she said in a mocking whine. <<I used to own this company! I’ve costumed species that look like amorphous blobs, and they looked fabulous when I was through with them! I came in today as a favor because they called at the last minute and my grandson’s team has another event!>>

She’s definitely going to shave my head, he thought, staring as she approached with a slightly larger version of the hooked razor he’d been given in his care package.

“You know I don’t care a ton about my hair,” he said. “But I do like having some of it. Even if it’s really short that would be better than nothing. In case you were wondering.”

<<Some little sprout of a wizard who isn’t even out of school thinks she can tell me what to do!>>

She grabbed the razor.

<<I’ll show her!>>

While Alden froze in place, she started grabbing locks of hair and whacking at them. At least she didn’t seem to want him completely bald. She was cutting off apparently random amounts from each lock, but not so much that it couldn’t be repaired by a human barber.

I wonder if I get a bonus for this. It feels like the kind of thing I should get a bonus for.

In the mirror, he couldn’t tell what was happening to his own appearance yet, but Chris had started covering his own arms and legs in bodypaint behind a sheet of plastic. He was a skinny guy, and the off-white paint made him look like a ghost in need of a good meal. But over the next half hour he was transformed into something quite a bit more alien. He had knee-length white robes and the headdress made of moving gears. Something attached to his back teeth made his mouth glow a poisonous green when he opened it.

He seemed to be reciting lines. <<I am Lunervikk! Behold my metal!>>

“Is there supposed to be some kind of theatrical component to this?” Alden asked.

He hoped he wasn’t included in it. He’d been a raccoon in an elementary school play once, and he’d forgotten which piece of trash he was supposed to steal from a pile of it on the stage—which was his one and only job. He’d frozen there, agonizing over the horrors of stealing the wrong crumpled chip bag, and had to be rescued by another raccoon.

<<Lunervikk. Famous Avowed Wright from over a century ago,>> the old woman said while she worked slender orange wires into Alden’s freshly chopped hair. <<Popular historical figure. He died trying to repair an untranslatable ship on untranslatable.Silly line to make drunk people laugh. Tasteless.>>

So she can understand me. She had a habit of talking to herself instead of him, so he hadn’t been sure. She must have had a translator in her glasses.

“What kind of ship?” Alden asked.

<<Untranslatable ship,>> she said.

The word wasn’t untranslatable. It was something like escape or evacuation. Alden knew because he’d heard Joe’s assistants use it to describe his role in coming to pick them up on Moon Thegund.

Lunervikk couldn’t have been human, since he would have died before Earth even met the Artonans. But if the gray-white paint and the eerie green mouth-light were meant to make Chris look like a member of another species, Alden couldn’t pinpoint which one it was.

<<No stupid words for you,>> she said sternly. <<It will ruin my costume. Instead lots of glaring.>>

She chuckled as if she’d said something very funny.

“Bti-qwol said I had to smile.”

<<Smile like you hope they all choke to death.>>

“Um…” This lady would get along well with Sophie.

<<It goes with the theme.>>

“Didn’t Bti-qwol say beige Ryeh-b’ts were known for their shyness?” She seemed to have a vision that involved Alden blending in with the environment and being “discovered” by hungry partygoers before he disappeared again. Like a game of hide-and-seek with special effects appetizers for a reward.

Alden wasn’t entirely opposed to it. Standing off in a corner sneaking bites of food for most of the party was easier than real mingling.

<<Beige,>> spat the costumer. <<Tuck the wings. Make the boy match the walls. Subtle Ryeh-b’t that won’t distract fromfood.>>

She was gelling Alden’s wire-laced hair into a pointy halo that was probably going to be a nod to a male Ryeh-b’t’s skull spikes. Behind her, notices kept popping up in the mirror.

“Are there other people working on the costume somewhere?” he asked. How else were they going to finish in time?

<<I brought my own fabricator. Top of the line! It’s working in another room. Not enough ventilation down here.>>

She stepped back and admired her handiwork. The wires in Alden’s hair were glowing orange.

<<Now paint!>> she said enthusiastically.

Alden examined the paint bottles on the table. Not a single one of them was beige.

 

---

 

The old woman didn’t finish Alden’s costume until there was a timer blinking in his vision reminding him he had to be upstairs in a few minutes. It had far less to do with the complexity of the outfit, which had been delivered to them fully made almost an hour before, and more to do with the fact that she seemed intent on making absolutely sure Bti-qwol would be unable to alter anything about the design.

Alden examined himself in the mirror. He didn’t always get Artonans, and he knew next to nothing about their fashion, and even less about what they wanted from Avowed at their parties. But a loud enough “screw you” was universally recognizable.

He was dressed in pitch black formal wizard’s clothes. There was no mistaking it. The harem pants, the wide sleeved coat, and the shockingly comfy boots made him look like Joe’s cousin from the dark side. The coat was even embroidered with sigils.

There were a set of large Ryeh-b’t wings attached to Alden’s back with a nearly invisible harness, and he did have the glowing orange wires in his hair. But the costumer hadn’t even gone for much makeup. He had a simple pair of black and orange bands painted across his eyes in a nod to a mask.

He was very recognizable as himself, unlike most of the other Avowed he’d caught glimpses of in their costumes.

It looked really cool. And like it was probably a political statement. One loud enough that he’d actually considered asking the old woman not to do it.

But it had occurred to him that this might actually get him out of the party without any damage to his own reputation or Joe’s. So he’d just…let it all happen.

Bti-qwol was so controlling; Alden was absolutely sure she would want to look him over before the event started. She’d have no choice but to send him away after she saw him. The trip to rescue the kids could be salvaged, and all he had to do was act like he was too dumb to know he should have called Bti-qwol when the costume first appeared.

<<Smile!>> the woman encouraged him. <<Practice the smile.>>

Oh right. Like I want people to choke.

It was easier than it should have been to get the expression right. The fake fangs she’d given him pulled a lot of weight, turning any half-hearted smile faintly sinister.

Apparently the variety of Ryeh-b’t he was representing was known for its rebellious nature.

The costumer cackled joyfully and patted Alden’s arm. <<Good work! I’ll sign it.>>

He didn’t understand what she meant until she literally pulled out a silver marker and grabbed the edge of a wing to sign her name on it.

“Met-oosa?” Alden asked, trying to pronounce it right.

<<Yes, my masterpiece! Those dressed by Met-oosa do not blend in with walls!>>

He finally left the dressing room and maneuvered his way through the hall, careful not to bash his wings against the carts full of tableware and covered platters that were lined up by the elevators. Met-oosa followed after him, chortling to herself at every shocked stare they earned from the workers. She seemed absolutely delighted to be making a scene.

Alden pressed his palm to the elevator panel. Part of him expected Bti-qwol to bust out and tackle him to the ground the second the doors opened, but instead he came face to face with Manon, who was a pastel pink Ryeh-b’t in a jumpsuit patterned with rhinestones, and the lortch with all the knives.

<<That’s a bad idea,>> the lortch hissed, brow ridges crinkling as they stared at Alden. <<That’s a very bad idea.>>

Manon looked a little shocked, then she smiled as well as she could around her snout. “Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s fine!”

<<We should call the manager,>> said the lortch. <<She couldn’t have approved this—>>

“Oh, Bti-qwol is so busy, though! We humans have given her a hard time today. First there was Laura’s accident, and now Farhan is having an allergic reaction to one of the floral sprays.” She shook her head. “In fact, let me head upstairs with you, Alden. Bti-qwol was supposed to be there to talk us through everything one last time, but she’s going to miss her chance at this rate. I’ve done this so many times I can cover it myself.”

Her lips had been painted to match her face, and she had costume contacts in. When she smiled, she really did look like a snake.

I was so paranoid about her arranging my thoughts, but I’m almost positive she hasn’t done anything to me lately. And she seems shocked by the costume. Yet here we all are…

It wasn’t like he had proof, but this felt an awful lot like someone had been pulling strings to create a perfect disaster for Bti-qwol.

Thwart Hog’s wrong about Manon and her dolls not being a big deal. If you manage the lives of a dozen people, there’s a ripple effect. Even bystanders get pulled into it in unexpected ways.

Maybe Manon didn’t know what the real-world effects of her rearrangements would be. She was just aiming for a finished puzzle that suited her. Or one that didn’t suit Bti-qwol.

Alden was too high ranking to control, so she hadn’t wanted him near her boater. But break the correct doll’s knee, and Alden or someone else like him would just fall into place with the rest of the puzzle. Make another doll stand next to a hay-fever bouquet, and all of the sudden, the personnel manager was busy at just the wrong moment to notice Alden, Manon, and a beaming Met-oosa stepping off the elevator into the museum.

Well, something this dramatic probably didn’t happen every time the Rabbit shoved puzzle pieces around. Bti-qwol had done more than her fair share of the work. She’d been abrasive to so many people this week, she was bound to butt heads with someone who was willing to butt back eventually.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

But this was going to completely ruin Alden’s escape plan. If nobody in charge saw him, how was he going to get out before the party started? And how mad are the people in charge going to be when they look like jokes in front of all the guests?

“I need to pee,” he said suddenly. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“Oh we’ve only got a few minutes before the doors open!” Manon gave him a reproachful look. “We have to line up for the welcome of the incoming guests.”

“Then I’ll pee fast. System, where’s the bathroom?”

Manon made a sound of protest, but it was hard to seriously argue with someone who claimed they urgently needed the toilet. Alden dashed toward the restroom. Met-oosa chased after him at a shuffle, calling out warnings every time she thought the giant black wings might crash into one of the displays.

The second he was in the restroom, he texted Bti-qwol. And promptly got a notice saying she’d listed him as a low priority contact, and he’d be added to her queue.

Next he called Joe. He’d requested video, but Joe set it to audio.

“Hello? Do you miss me that much after only a few hours, Alden? You’re getting very dependent, you know.”

“You’re coming to the party tonight, aren’t you?” Alden said in a rush. “Are you at the museum already?”

Maybe if he threw himself in front of Joe, the professor would have an excuse to complain to someone and get him thrown out.

“I’m on my way there in a cart full of some very charming friends.” Then, via text, he added, [I’m only talking to you at all right now because this group should think you and I have an unusually close bond. I can’t do this at the party, so get whatever it is off your chest quickly.]

He must be with the students from the mishnen incident, Alden realized. Or their parents.

They would probably be relieved to think that Alden was one of Joe’s private contractees. It made it less likely that he would go around blabbing about their mistakes.

“How much trouble would I be in if I wore the wrong outfit to the party?” Alden asked.

“I’m flattered that you love the lab coat so much, but it’s really not formal enough. You should wear what you’re given.”

“I am wearing what I was given. Bti-qwol was incredibly condescending to the costumer, and wait…is there a way to…System, send Joe a selfie! Like a picture of me in my costume? Can you do that?”