Daniel

“Danny, I’m done!” Wendi said as she sent him her papers. She watched over his shoulder as he closed his illusory book and summoned her work on his Shew Stone. They’d worked out how to share documents through their synched stones like email.

He’d never used a computer, though he knew a little about them. Without any real programming skills, he’d had to teach his Shew Stone what to do step by step. In this way, he’d painstakingly forged a crude operating system that would let them share and store drawings on a white slate.

Wendi’s education and this project absorbed almost the whole of his time since their arrival on Radio World. Daniel custom-made her lesson plans in language, social studies, science, and math using what he knew and could find in books. She’d been a unique student with the starting knowledge of a kindergartener and the developed brain of a teenager. Hence, she’d soared through elementary coursework but stalled out as the tasks became what she considered ‘chores.’

However, he considered her informally graduated. He continued giving assignments but stopped feeling like her teacher when she’d pointed out the importance of announcements in the newspapers he’d been ignoring. “Danny, what if our building were scheduled for demolition, or protestors gathered nearby?”

She seemed more her age now than the Wendi he’d met in Eastwood. Recalling the start of their time in Radio World felt like a lifetime ago. The awkwardness he’d felt were the feelings of another person. As she mentally aged to her physical present, Wendi became more and more fun to be with. Over time she’d gained separate interests, skills, and knowledge that complemented his own. They tried things together they wouldn’t have done alone.

He looked over her work on some algebra problems, “Very nice,” he said. Most were correct with a few reasonable mistakes they’d review later. However, she’d turned it in early. He dismissed the projection, raised an eyebrow, and said, “What are you after?”

“Let’s go dancing!”

“You hardly fit on a dance floor.”

“I’ll only rock back and forth a little this time, I promise.”

“We’re supposed to be in disguise. We could blow everyone’s cover.”

“I’ll be careful. Come on, it’ll be fun!”

While Daniel preferred to stay home and read, he knew she’d been looking forward to this. He sighed his surrender, “If we’re doing your thing, you know where we have to go to keep things fair?” She’d taken them to the theater, the ballet, a few big sports games, and a couple parties. They could do almost anything they wanted with their allowance from Paul.

“You wanted to visit the local history museum, right Danny?” They’d been to the impressive city library multiple times, enjoyed the park, window shipped where Paul worked, toured an art gallery, and been to a natural history museum, but not this one.

Usually, Daniel slept through ancient history, but Radio World’s recent past might be enlightening. As he’d seen on arrival, this city served as the nucleus of an interplanetary societal network since time immemorial. Not because it was the oldest, had the most resources, or the most advanced technology.

These people valued nothing above the protection of their Taotie guardian. Daniel and Wendi found a plethora of souvenirs in the gift shop bearing an iconic image of the gigantic guardian and its building-sized energy blade slicing through some tentacled entity captioned, ‘Big T.’ The wealthiest kings and businessmen for worlds in every direction congregated here, at the feet of the strongest guardian, and brought along all their wealth.

The advancement of technology here had accelerated after a series of roads and armed patrols made inter-global trade safer and faster. The ensuing industrial revolution regrettably widened the gap between the rich and poor. Companies laid off local workers by the tens of thousands in favor of cheaper medieval-age commuting laborers. The collapse in population resulted in many fine apartment buildings being abandoned, such as the one where Daniel’s group lived.

As for the planetary commuters, the lengths to which old-world people went to find products, services, and medicine centuries ahead of their time astounded him. In addition to unskilled workers, a considerable number of luxury-proximate positions emerged beside a great deal of child labor: shoe shiners, street sweepers, paper boys, ash-dusters for the factory soot that fell like snow, coat takers, dress-train carriers for the overly fashionable, even dog attendees who followed behind with a scoop and bag.

Meanwhile, those suddenly going from comparative wealth to ludicrous riches created a new class system from nothing overnight. They measured status by the number of Terminal stops between Radio World and their home, referring to them as ‘Degrees of Separation.’

Daniel and Wendi talked while puzzling things out one clue at a time, moving from display to exhibit, deciphering a wall mural, to looking over a ‘Big T’ tea set. Though he displayed more interest by far, she conveyed him with patience and good spirit.

While he’d intended the trip as purely academic, Daniel admitted what Mary said about history was true—the past informed the present. The party they attended was hosted by the children of the city’s wealthy few. If he’d gone in blind, Daniel wouldn’t have identified the mismatched architecture of a dozen melding cultures. Nor would he have noticed the band and wait staff wore antiquated garb while the revelers modeled the modern vogue of breezy, colorful outfits exposing arm and leg and back. Although, he may have recognized the glaze in the dancers’ eyes for its fusion of alcohol and entitlement.

The smoke of a hundred cigarettes clouded the room, the jaunty sound of live music filled it, and the press of jostling bodies nearly overflowed. They’d adjusted their disguises to match the dancing mob, now they just had to act spoiled.

A man handed drinks to passersby; whoever catered this party spared no expense. They each took a cup, Daniel’s disintegrating under cover of illusion. Wendi almost took a sip when he said, “No drinking.”

“It can’t hurt me.”

“I’d rather not experiment here with what classifies as ‘harmful’ to your magical vitality.” Despite her annoyance, she did as he asked.

They waded through the tide of people, Wendi displaying an acute sense of self-awareness and agility. Deep in the masses, she swayed in time to the beat, rocking her hands from side to side. She was in the zone, blind and deaf to everything but the music and partiers.

And she could dance. Wendi had perfect rhythm, boundless energy, and she loved being here—with all these kids, in the moment, moving together. Daniel couldn’t fathom the appeal, hold a beat, or sing well. He wasn’t a musical person but appreciated people who were.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

He’d gladly have kept his peace until her dancing fever ran its course if not for one thing. The more she danced, the bigger the moves she wanted to make. Though she’d developed past the danger of losing control and hurting someone, Daniel feared she’d expose them by bumping into a stranger. It seemed no mortal stage was large enough for her.

He stopped her after a few minutes, “Wendi…”

:Do we have to go?:

:No, but we should leave the dance floor.:

They slipped away to the party’s periphery, where a young man spotted them, “Want a smoke?” he offered Wendi.

“Sure,” she said, plucking the cigarette offered with two fingers.

“Need a light?” the guy followed up.

“Got one right here,” Daniel said as he reached over and poked it with his finger. The cigarette disintegrated while his illusion appeared as if he’d flicked on his own lighter.

:Hey!: Wendi sent with indignation as they left.

:They’re bad for you.:

:I have super-regeneration. They can’t hurt me.:

:Wendi, you need an addiction like you need a second head.:

:I dunno; a second head sounds like a lot of fun.:

:The answer is still no.: Daniel didn’t like how often he’d been saying ‘no.’ The two of them depended on each other but, if he abused his position, he’d wreck what they’d built. :How about we find a new place for dinner?:

“Now that sounds like fun!”

As they drifted around the perimeter looking for the exit, Daniel saw couples sitting together or leaning against walls. They were engaged in rather intense bouts of mashing their faces together.

“Hey, Danny—”

“—No.” He didn’t care how much fun that looked; it was time for them to leave.

“Hello, my sweet,” a well-dressed teen extended his hand to take Wendi’s, “Dance with me?”

‘My Sweet?’ Are you kidding me? And are you blind? We’re holding hands!

“I love dancing!”

“No.”

“Why don’t we let the lady decide?”

Daniel frowned, “I seriously doubt you could handle her.”

“Is that a challenge? Care to cross swords in a dual?” Clearly, the medieval influences had not been wholly positive on their culture.

He almost retorted he wasn’t possessive of Wendi; this was for the guy’s own good. Then Daniel had an epiphany. A certainty roiling in his subconscious for months finally breached the surface—pursuing Wendi romantically was now impossible for him.

Their time together fundamentally changed their dynamic. He thought her pretty but would never forget wiping smooshed banana off her face and teaching her to read. Daniel had to stop himself from reminding her to brush her teeth every day. His idle thoughts drifted to her wellbeing, like, ‘Is she staying up too late?’ or ‘Is she eating healthy?’ He would always be like a brother to her.

He wasn’t complaining, though. Having a deep, cherished relationship was something to celebrate. It wouldn’t bother him at all if it didn’t drastically reduce his chances of getting any girlfriend ever.

Finding romance with girls he couldn’t touch without harming them would be… a frustrating challenge, to say the least. On the other hand, Wendi would one day meet someone who matched her rhythm, and the two of them would fall in love.

When that time came, Daniel wouldn’t get in the way. Today was not that day. :Wendi, it’s time to go.:

“Coward!” the young man called at their backs.

Sometimes being a coward was the smartest. One thing about Wendi, she seemed to have as much fun running away as partying.

As they went, Daniel wondered why so many guys hit on Wendi, then grasped the obvious. The illusion merely hid her alien features. Her face and figure might pass for a young woman in her late teens. Guys already had their eye on her but, in a few years, she’d be gorgeous. And the childlike personality from repeated memory loss probably made her more attractive in their eyes.

The two of them meandered through streets with confusing names lit by gas flame and primitive incandescent bulbs. Wandering the back alleys of the city, they passed restaurants and vendors closing for the night. Wendi’s stomach grumbled and his sympathized. Being repeatedly shut out and perpetually late dampened their hopes as they doubled back across town.

“Danny, do you smell that?”

He caught a tantalizing whiff of fresh, crusty bread. “Yeah, follow it!”

They followed the aroma of garlic, tomatoes, and melting cheese to a corner place with a glowing neon sign. Entering the restaurant felt like stepping into a hot spring—the warm, fragrant atmosphere enveloped them, loosened their knotted muscles, and opened sinuses.

They heard the elderly lady on her third try, “Table or booth?”

“Booth.” They’d been too distracted by memorabilia on the walls, the lush vegetation of potted plants, and the wide mouth of a great stone oven. Daniel was in awe. A pizzeria—on another world!

“There’s only one explanation,” he said as they sat together, him in her hand, “Pizza is a universal constant. Like the printing press and the radio, any sufficiently advanced civilization figures out how to make it.”

A waitress came to take their order, and he asked, “Is it as good as it smells?”

“You bet, cutie.” They ordered a small pie.

Anticipation built as the dough was rolled out, tossed in the air, smothered with tomato sauce, covered with shredded cheese, and slid into the deep hollow of the wood-fired oven. When they shoveled it onto a broad dish, Daniel stared in awe at the perfect browning of the cheese and crust. The scent was incredible, a mind-melting combination of flavors rising like steam. Wendi scooched her finger under a slice and lifted.

A bridal train of white cheese strings trailed its course. She took a bite, her expression pure bliss. Wendi chewed slowly and savored softly, “Danny, I’ve never had pizza before, but I think we found the best in the universe.”

“An interesting theory,” Daniel pressed the tips of his fingers together as he’d seen mad scientists do on TV, “We need more data points.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~†~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, Daniel and Wendi grabbed anybody they could at the breakfast table.

“Don’t you two have anything better to do?” Kenta asked and shook his head in disapproval. Daniel hesitated to repeat the importance of giving Wendi as many good memories as possible; Kenta’s patience ran thin these days.

“Sorry Daniel, I don’t think I’d appreciate it properly—and I’d hate to disappoint,” Paul said, though the candle boy would have joined if the majority demanded.

Daniel exhaled his disappointment and frustration. “Has anybody seen Cassie?” As they determined the last time they’d seen their elusive comrade, Rana walked in with Lea in tow. “Rana, we found this amazing pizzeria! You should come with us tonight and bring Lea. It might be good for her.”

To his immense surprise, the frog girl shrugged and said, “Okay.”

That night, the four of them returned to the restaurant. They sat at the same booth and ordered two plain pies—this place exemplified the reassuring comfort of the familiar. Daniel and Wendi had about the same reactions as yesterday, if not more so due to heightened expectations.

Lea’s sunken eyes didn’t seem to register her surroundings. Rana had preserved her well, but months of inactivity took their toll. She barely ate, cheeks gradually hollowing. Her braided hair lost its luster, and her skin paled with lack of sun.

Daniel hated to see the change and couldn’t imagine Rana’s pain watching her best friend wither.

With her standard neutral expression, Rana took a slice for the both of them, cut it into pieces, and delivered one to Lea. Daniel held his breath. Three together watched Lea take the bite, chew, and swallow.

Nothing happened. No magic. What had he been expecting? His quaint fantasy received a thorough debunking. How had he hoped even for a moment that pizza—no matter how good—could fix Lea’s problems?

Without pause, Rana speared a forkful of pizza and ate it.

She dropped the fork.

The movement caught Daniel’s eye, and he turned to watch the rigidity of her face and body melting. As her lips pressed tight together, a smile squeezed through. She closed her eyes and leaned back, savoring, reveling. Then she lowered her head in the quiet affirmation of a small nod. Droplets splashed her hand, and the frog girl glanced down in confusion, then touched her face.

No amount of pain, suffering, or sorrow could wring a drop from this stone. Yet, tonight, Rana cried.

Daniel gasped, no more than a slight intake of breath.

She saw him staring, their eyes locked, she froze guilty mid-chew, expression shifting from happy to shock, fear, surprise, then a tiny flash of rage not directed at him, and then neutral. Closed off again. All the faces of Rana exposed.

She’d let her guard down. And he’d seen.

The fork hit the ground.

She stood and climbed over her friend. “Ihavetogonow, take care of Lea,” and she was out the door in an instant.

“What just happened?” Wendi asked between chubby-cheeked mouthfuls.