Amidst the winter season, the sun finally decided to get out of bed and go to work, with few clouds in sight and bespeckled snow clumps sparkling beneath the solar beams. A loud echo rumbled above as our metal chariot turned the curve and proceeded through the concrete tundra. The source was the revered steel basilisk, with a screeching roar and a body over fifty feet long, its belly full of weary and tired souls on their way to their nine-to-five.
"We rarely pass through here, don't you think?" I asked Myla as my eyes followed the tracks that slithered farther and deeper into the city.
"Despite being a downtown area, it's mainly students, after all." Myla noted as our speed slowed and the buildings around us began to take more color and vibrancy, "That and most of the buildings here are different departments."
We've visited a number of venues for our travels—and even then, a university campus was a new one we could check off the imaginary list—this particular school was unique in that the entire city block was under the umbrella of the alma mater. Red maples outstretched their naked branches and lined the sidewalks as they towered over the droves of students in hoodies, sweaters, and the occasional madmen in plain tees and shorts.
Honestly, I can respect sacrificing practicality for fashionability, but those people are inhuman. I had a friend in high school like that once, and I don't recall ever seeing him in the same room as our microwave, so...
"This place caters to the arts, right? It never really crossed my mind when I was deciding on where to go, so this is my first time getting a proper look at it."
"I've only ever visited for Gale. The last I was here was when Alex and I still worked together." Myla added, turning into a fenced-off area that looked to be the parking lot, "But I've never really had any colleges I wanted to attend myself."
"Well, you did throw yourself at aiAI the first chance you had, so it's not surprising." Indeed, it was another one of those lingering mysteries surrounding her. Being three years my senior meant she was out and about on duty the moment she was eighteen, which was just as impressive as it was shrouded in queries, "I went to a state university along with Amanda and only came back here after graduating, so we're close to opposite ends on the spectrum, right?"
"Now that you mention it, I remember seeing that on your file." Her hands remained on the wheel, but her expression was one that felt in place with a finger or two to her chin in thought, "Despite my hesitance, I can't help but be impressed you landed a job so quickly after coming back..."
"It was mainly luck since they needed to fill spots, so compliment me with a few grains of salt." I laughed as if to indicate bashfulness, but that act was swiftly dealt with using cold indifference.
"Really? I wonder who it was that was complaining about me being bad at taking compliments just a few nights ago?" Myla questioned, with what was slowly becoming a regular fixture of her personal catalog of countenances and expressions—an ever-humble pout.
"Alright, alright. Thank you for calling my brain big and telling me I am
smort. Bridger's self-esteem just went zoom!" And to her credit, versatile indeed she was as that endearing face quickly turned acidic in with disappointment.
"One more word, and I'm crashing us into the fence." The car's engine whirred alongside her words as she slotted us into one of the parking slots by the far corner.
"Would you prefer another sentence?-"
"Zip it." She pulled the handbrake firmly and hissed a command, knowing damn well her colleague had the tact and demeanor of a badger.
Badger Blaithe! From now on, that's my anthropomorphic animal original character. Please do not steal.
We exited the car, the sounds of our doors closing and steps landing in synch as we strode by each other's sides in the concrete lot freckled by white. The sun was hot in the same way the air was cold, both sharp and blistering if not for the presence of the other—a pair of contrasting extremes that could only clash or complement like oil and water or a stagebound duet, calms to storms or winter wilting and spring blossoms. Now, let me ask, how much of that was about the sun and wintry fog, and how much of it was about an unlikely pair of surveyors out on their daily patrol?
"I know Gale called us over for an update, but I wonder if anything noteworthy has come to pass." My partner asked with a slight weight in her soles, steps, and words tinged with a slight doubt.
"It's only been three days, so I don't think there's much room for us to overthink, right? Plus, at the very least, Fable seems to be in better spirits." The skip in her hops was returning, and so was the vibrant spunk that decorated her face and aura each time we parked by their lot. It was a welcome return to form, made all the more comforting knowing we had helped them attain it and could continue to aid them whenever we could. It made me realize that perhaps the continued patronage of Myla, Alex, and now even mine wasn't just due to food quality and convenience but also a debt of kindness and companionship that went both ways, "You seem to be in the same shape, you know that?"
Myla threw a curious look my way, brow raised and eyes wide, "What do you mean exactly?"
"Well, now that she's back to being all chipper and happy, she's returned to being super clingy. Rejoice, Miss Marika, your daily dose of Fable hath returned." We made it to the outer wall of the fence, moving from one slab to the next on the frost-laden sidewalk as I gave my partner an encouraging pat on the back.
Seriously, it's like an imaginary fuel gauge refilled itself when Fable wrapped herself around her. I wonder if we go over the limit if she'll do a factory reset?
Myla's steps slowed, looking down and away as a scarlet tinted the curve of her ears, "Oh...Right." She whispered, "I guess that's a positive as well."
"If only you acted this sweet and innocent towards me," I remarked against her attempt at hiding her contentment.
"If that was the case, there'd be no reliable adults left on this team."
"Just shorten it and say there'd be no adults left." We continued our pace as the breeze slinked through and around our bodies from our back, as if pushing us along and across and brushing shoulders with the great basilisk as the two forces headed in opposite directions, "That aside, we're just about..." And as we turned a corner and the presence of both disappeared, our destination found itself within our sights, "Here, right?"
Across the street stood proudly the department of our windward client, rustic and industrialist, dare I even call it old-fashioned, modeled like a masonry that stood a dozen or so stories up and past the snake's curves well above the people-rich sidewalks. Fire escapes slinked down and out of the windowed concrete walls as they stood in harsh contrast against the glass spires of the backdrop. Its colors were also a sore sight for achromatic-drowned eyes as each wall bore a distinct pastel hue, with one being a baby blue, the next a peach-like pink, and those beyond our sight a denim black and a garnet red. However, the most eye-catching feature was what defined it as a building for artisans and storytellers—graffiti. The two-dimensional planes of the walls protruded out into the space as art pieces the size of houses covered each side of the establishment, with murals and mosaics of abstract art, portraits of either political figures or famous professors, and most notably, a giant frame of an elk with garlands of flowers atop its antlers that stared down at us with a blank expression.
I'd make a joke, but for some odd reason, I feel like we've done a bit with deer already...
We proceeded and moved against the crowd that was exiting the building and through the glass doors. I instinctively flashed them my I.D. before they asked, and before long, we were moving through the murmuring halls of the school's music department, "By the way, d'you ever wonder why they ask us for our cards?" I asked as the walls became creamy beige and the tiled floor like piano keys.
"Huh? I believe at least that much should be evident, Bridger." She recoiled with a heavy sense of concern, brows pinching together, "Did you hit your head while I wasn't looking? Should I call your parents? Come on, little Bridger, let's head to the doctor, and I'll give you a lollipop if you behave." Giving me a few courtesy pats on the head as if her infantile tone wasn't enough misplaced consideration.
"Can it be blueberr- I understand the general idea, dammit." I retorted, almost messing up as I didn't ask for strawberry instead, "What I mean is that we already have uniforms, right? I understand if it's done for police and the like, but it's not like anyone's out here pretending to be us." I explained my reasoning, index finger raised as if that would lead further credence to my words, "That and our outfits aren't even commercially available, no?"
Myla's beguiling worry eased, and her expression turned contemplative, "When you put it that way, I can understand your question. It's probably just a mandatory check, seeing as there are no market-available aiAI uniforms to my knowledge." We passed by a few more doors and classes, not really paying mind as all we were told was to reach the end of the hall and wait there, "Besides, what use would people even have for that sort of thing?-" I cut her off.
"Fetish stuff."
"What?" My partner turned and asked, shock-laden and the heel of her shoe screeching against the smooth floor.
"Like, you know, some people get...How do I put this..." I combed through my vocabulary to find the right words, giving up rather unceremoniously and resorting to Occam's blunt razor, "Sexual fantasies. There."
A rather extraordinary thing happened as Myla's sharply upturned eyes turned into big amber question marks, or at least that's the best way I could put the surprise on her face as she forced a reply out, "What? No? I don't know that?"
"Look, look," I continued walking, trying to calm her down and return us to the crucial discussion at hand, "Some people have a thing for uniforms, right?"
"Okay, that's something I've heard about from some clients."
"May God help you sleep at night," I prayed, my mind running around in fear at the thought of the many strange things she's had to entertain over the years.
"We'll head to a church later. Now, moving on, please."
"Sure thing, this train stops for no one." We made it to the hall's end, reaching an L-shaped area with rows of classrooms on both ends, idling in the corner as we continued, "Like, the roleplay scenario is already there. A partner dresses up as a surveyor and-"
"Okay, good lord above, wait, give me a moment to mentally prepare for this." She gripped her forehead with a discouraged expression shadowed by her downturn face. Taking a deep breath before looking straight at me, she resolved herself, "Alright, spout your venom."
"So, like, one dresses up as a surveyor, and they do a mock interview of sorts, right? Then it proceeds with a rapport that becomes flirting and, oh! What do you know? The interviewee's type matches perfectly with the on-duty surveyor, and one thing leads to the next—and most of that uniform is discarded on the floor by the end of the night." I explained with many details omitted to keep our rating at PG-13.
If you'd like the full, uncensored cut, may I direct you to a particular website that starts with an "A" and ends with a three?
Myla's eyes were closed shut, and her stance perfectly straight, before her irises left the blanket of her lids, and she blinked once or twice, "I regret having an imagination."
"At least you're blaming yourself rather than me. What a nice change of pace."
"You can't be serious. That plot progression and pacing alone is horrendous, never mind the logic of risking your job for a fling." I looked at her with a questioning stare, wondering if we both unscrewed a few things in the think tank.
"Is that really the angle you're looking at this from?"
"Looking at this from a logical angle is the only way to prevent me from leaving the realm of a sane individual."
Right at that moment, I felt a firm but comparatively tiny hand place itself on my shoulder from behind as the presence of a person became evident, "Just what in the hell are you two talking about inside of a school..?" A familiar voice was carried through the air to my ears, and upon turning and looking down slightly, Gale Glenn gave us both a warm welcome with a wonderfully annoyed expression beneath his brown and gold bangs.
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"Ah, perfect, an unbiased third party." I greeted back, the conversation now finding the last piece needed to reach a resolution, "Gale, how much would you pay to see Fable in an aiAI uniform?"
"I'm going to throttle you." He threatened, looking to Myla for some form of assistance, clarification, or the means to throttle someone twice as hard, "Myla, I thought you had a good leash on this guy to prevent stuff like this from happening."
My partner stared blankly, movements being minuscule until her lips finally parted to speak, "...Would you pay extra for a winter outfit?"
"You're both dead to me." He sighed with what little strength was left in him before a wave of acceptance and begrudging happiness came over and washed his discontent away, "Thanks for making it, you two." A gentle blue radiated from his orbs as he beamed us both a starshine smile, "Before anything, let's find ourselves a spot, shall we?"
We sat on cushions of dragonfruit magenta and lemon yellow, the space enclosed by the industrial corners with a paradoxical mix of its mid-century modern palette of grayscale walls and pillars, teak ceiling baffles, and scattered pastel furnishings of sectioned couches and rounded tables. To my left, giant panes of glass presented an urban screenplay of thousands of intersecting character stories beneath the pale winter blue fog—while my right was filled with hushed whispers and the turning of ink-soaked leaves as those in pursuit of their callings kept themselves busy.
"Are we really allowed in here?" Myla asked, looking around at the other seats and tables occupied by students.
"Nope, but I'm good friends with the guy on library duty today," Gale reassured with a sly smirk, leaning back on his chair high and mightily.
"Splendid. We can add that to your growing list of crimes, Myla." I took a mental note, her most recent crimes having been theft.
Did she take my breath away? Stole a few skipped heartbeats? No, she ate the strawberry danish that I specifically told everyone in the breakroom was mine.
"Whatever you say, Clyde." She spoke with lips still stained with incriminating jam, turning to Gale to get the ball rolling, "So, what's the update?"
"Mainly changes in my schedule and time management in general—but also all the personal work I've had to put in that can't really be solved just by shuffling my workload around, you know? I need to take a moment to look inward and then backward, to realize I had a lot of stuff to fix from mindsets to work ethics, so I've been taking some steps here and there based on what you've told me." He explained with confidence that he once lacked, eyes ahead and a smile curved as perfectly as the moon, "Oh, and Fable's been with me every step of the way, especially in the scheduling, so we can have as much time for each other as possible. All in all, forgive the possible conceit, but..." Still, he hesitated with his triumph, as if worried that it'd slip away from him just as it had not so long ago, "I'm feeling a lot better about, well, everything." But he was sure as hell going to hold on to it even tighter.
"Discard the thought of conceitedness, that's well worth being proud of-"
"Also, she threw out all of our coffee."
"A fair compromise for everything you listed, wouldn'tcha say?" Well, it's impossible to make an ending that everyone's happy with.
Just log into that one site with a name between "W" and "Y," and you can feast upon the treasure trove of fanbases bickering over a controversial ending to a show. It's my ideal way to lose sleep at night! Well, maybe behind overthinking past mistakes, doubting my self-worth, wondering if bees are part of a government psyop, the usual stuff.
"...And so...It's, how do you say this..?" Gale paused, finding the words that were so simple but felt so surreal, "I've- We've been happier." Tensions eased upon hearing his words as some part of me felt lighter. My shoulders and back seemed to relax, and the air I took in was strangely sweet.
"Oh, also-also, I've quit the band!" But what followed was quite the kick in the head for such a tranquil atmosphere.
"I'm glad to see you two care so much, but don't worry too hard." He reassured us, the fear of having made him sacrifice something rather dear to him quick to make our eyes widen, "I just want to focus on school right now, and it puts my mind at ease knowing I don't have to keep up with practice and shows so often. Plus, my bandmates are fine with the decision, and, well, our rhythm guitarist is more than skilled enough to take the lead." A smirk appeared, one of both pride and trust.
"Is that some subtle advertisement I hear? Subliminal messaging doesn't work on a skeptic like me, y'know?"
"Maybe explicit messaging will work. How does thirty-five spam messages to both of your personal contacts sound?"
"Duly noted. Do you take ticket reservations?" Myla answered for both of us, goading me for our payment with an open palm and a smile that could fool a telepath.
"Not after the danish, Myla. Too soon, girl. Too soon."
Gale cleared his throat, disinterested in our latest spat no matter the gravity of the resentment I harbored, "I think it's for the best not just because Fable's playing has gotten better, but because it gives her something to focus on when I'm not around, right?"
"So, in short," I feigned boredom, giving him a so-what? Kind of expression before actually allowing my heart to speak, "You're on the path to living again, huh?" He only smiled back.
"Well, with that, Alexandre can stop nagging me for updates on you two." My dear partner sighed, though she herself wasn't entirely immune to being relieved, with her cold voice seeming more uppity than usual, "I'm just glad to see Fable's doing better now."
"What about me? Aren't you glad to see me taking strides to improve?"
"Oh, yeah. That too."
"I swear you weren't this snarky before. Has Bridger really been that bad of an influence?" I provided no denial, only humming to myself in irrefutable innocence, "Well, it's not like I could've done this without either of you, so once again, thank you." Exasperated as he was, sincerity remained fresh in his worlds and the air that his warm face gave off.
There was solace in a clean completion, the same relief that comes from de-evolving into a couch-bound potato after a long day out or the ritualistic cleansing of open tabs upon the conclusion of an arduous assignment. Still, I always did like open-ended finishes just as much, if not even more. I guess the idea that you've made progress but still have a ways to go and improve feels more gratifying than the brief satisfaction of success, or at least that's how I like to see it. That or I'm just telling you how I used to cope with never-ending school deadlines and how I now cope with the never-ending adulthood crises.
"Anyhow, my next class is almost here, so I'll go on ahead. D'you guys know the way back?" Gale stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder as if it were weightless upon preparing to depart.
"More or less, and if we get lost, we'll have the loudspeakers call for you to pick us up."
"Please just use an online map, you goddamn child." As much improvement as he made towards being a husband, fatherhood still seemed like a venture he was unwilling to pursue, "Well, with that, I'll be off. You two take care." But he did master one facet of being a dad, leaving his kids.
That was a joke. This is a love letter to all the dads who are there for their kids, except for those weird, mad scientist types in stories that stuff their children into dogs, boxes, and animatronic suits. Ya'll are sick.
"Oh, and Bridger." But before neither my thought nor his farewell could end, he turned to me with a look akin to a father, one that felt as though it was guiding me, "It's your turn next. Don't forget that." And that I didn't need to be told twice.
"What was that about?" Myla asked as Gale left the library like a seafaring breeze returning to the tides.
"A promise between men," I answered with a faraway expression, making sure to feel the nonexistent wind in my hair.
"So one between idiots." She replied, turning the imaginary current frigid.
"Hey, now, that's sexist."
"I meant you two specifically were idiots." Elaboration followed by a few pokes to the cheek from her slender index didn't exactly soften the blow.
"Okay, I can accept that." I laughed it off, turning to my phone's lock screen, "By the way, when's our next appointment?"
"In an hour or so, give more than take. We slotted our appointment with Gale as a formal meeting of sorts but didn't expect it to conclude so soon."
"I guess that means we've got some time to burn?" I asked but didn't await an answer as I immediately lounged onto the soft hug of the pastel cushions.
"Seems so." My partner similarly followed, tresses of silver losing all elegance and motion as they fell onto the headrest.
But the moment did give me an interesting idea, one in service of filling the idle period with more than just a morning siesta, "Wait a sec, doesn't this just make for the perfect excuse to..." I combed through our bag containing documents and folders, prompting her to sit up and investigate my invitation, "Here you go." To which I answered with a book to her face—the very same one from our shared winter outing.
"Thanks." She accepted with a snicker, unfolding it quickly to the page with the snowman bookmark. Watching her read and occasionally messing with her probably would've been fun enough—but I decided to spend our respite on something a little more meaningful. From the same bag, I took out a second paperback, this one a chestnut brown and with a calligraphic title. I opened it, finding my way back to the last page I remembered reading, using the words and phrases like a breadcrumb trail necessitated by my refusal to use a bookmark.
Half the reason is that Myla hates it when I use this or the dog-ear method, and the other half is 'cause I always manage to misplace the bookmarks once I get emotionally attached to them...
I began to absorb myself in the prose and descriptions, eyes focused but ears absent until the soft thud of another story being hushed caught them, "Actually, I've been meaning to ask," I looked to Myla, who seemed to be tongue-tied, eyes a ways off from mine, "How is it so far?"
"Oh? I thought I had a week to finish before you'd extort me and at least two before physical violence would get involved..." I said in jest but also to snap her out of acting so cute and innocent over a trivial question.
Quick on the uptake as always, she half-laughed and half-sighed, her voice regaining its sharpness in an instant, "Yes, yes, and if you at all assign any value to your life, you'll respond to this scheduled update."
While it wasn't exactly how I envisioned burning the hours with paper would go, it was nonetheless one way to keep the winter cold from freezing over our respite, "If you put it that way, I guess there is already a lot I can tell you." And so prose and text discarded, we weaved our own dialogue to be written nowhere and read by no one else—just another page in our own little story.
We stepped out of the echoing hallways and back onto the winter-kissed streets of the campus, the roaring train basilisk's roar making its return as it marked the end of our brief stay. We slinked and slithered through the crowds of the sidewalk just as the beast did the rails until the crowd thinned and the air thickened as it was left undisturbed by the dozens of moving bodies and murmuring voices. A satisfied breath overcame me, the sound usually marking a day's end feeling well-suited for the current contentment I felt.
"...Hmm?" From within my pocket, something began to chime. I pulled the chirping device out, finding my phone was astir with a call that made it sing like a cicada.
"Go ahead. Just watch your step while you walk." Myla advised as she took the lead and slowed her pace, a tiny act of sweetness that was not to be left unappreciated.
"Okidoki," I replied, accepting the call and putting it to my ear, "Hello? Who's this?"
"Bridger!" An ecstatic static voice came through, liveliness and charm flowing through cell signal and circuitry without a drop in quality, "It's Amanda. Sorry for the sudden call, but, like-" She cut herself off, something between a squeal and a cackle escaping her mouth as she struggled to speak.
"Woah, there. Ease yourself and then speak to me, will 'ya? What's put'cha in such a chipper mood anyhow? Didn't you and Keith just get back from a trip this morning?" It was just before our ordeal with the Glenns began when we decided to help the pair find a spot in the mountains to capitalize on the winter scenery—and today was their return trip, "We didn't want to bother you guys and ask for updates, but I'll take a guess and say something good happened?"
"Well...Maybe." Amanda giggled following her words, the suggestive tone not lost on me as she lengthened its pronunciation, "I only got home now, and Keith's probably driving back, so I only found the time to contact you both now."
"Aww, don't worry too much about it then." I assured her, trying to keep pace with my partner and not trip on my own steps, "So...What did the goof done-did?"
"I'm sending you a PDF file with all the deets R.N., give it a moment." I couldn't stop myself from grinning, the sweetness in her voice more amplified than usual as she hummed away a sweet nothing into the microphone.
I awaited the notification for the file, pondering on just what it was that required a printable document of all things to inform me, "So it's a formal request of sorts? If it's a counseling call or date, you guys don't need a document..?" But upon just the file name popping beneath my fingers, most of my thoughts came to a screeching halt not dissimilar to the sounds of the railway-bound snake.
I felt my legs freeze- no, sink into the concrete, weighed down like anchors and stuck like a fly to glue, "Uhm...Hellooo?" The voice was dissonant, light footfalls even more, but still its temperature was unmistakable, "Bridger Conditioning Unit? You left the vent open?" The young woman tried to joke, looking up at me with a fuzzy expression of what I thought was confusion or annoyance, "Or, how about...I think you're BCU's running? You better catch it?" I wouldn't laugh even if I could.
I could feel a pressure on my shoulder, then a force to my forehead, and finally a prodding on my cheek, all done with slow, deliberate pokes of a slender and warm finger before my cloudy vision was completely obstructed by a pale-skinned blur and silver-lined cloud, "Huh...Usually, that at least gets a reaction out of you..." She seemed to retreat her advances, backing off with her frame shrinking a bit and a slight rosiness melting into her gradient, "And it's a little embarrassing for me, too, you know..?"
Hey there, subconscious Bridger here. I just wanna say I heard that last part and think it was pretty cute. Shame Big Brother Bridger over there is still a bit too flabbergassed to appreciate it.
My phone kept buzzing about, but the image that I saw was still at the front, center, back, closet, under the sink- Look, it was the only damn thing I could think of, alright? "Okay, at the very least, respond to the person you're talking to—Oh? Amanda? And what's this that's open..?" Myla took the phone out of my hands, her amber gaze landing on the file, "Oh...Oh..." And just as it cursed me, so too was she frozen in place by its contents.
Have you ever felt like life finds a way to sneak up on you a little too well? The package you ordered arrived a little too early, and you're out of the house, or the rain starts falling even when the dark clouds are still a few miles from your head. I guess it's the fault of our perceived invincibility, the kind manifested by thinking we had it all figured out and that we had time to burn the bridge once we crossed it rather than realize our feet were already on the platform, leaving a nice, flammable trail of gasoline.
Ah, humans, sweet children of hubris.
"...So...I guess that makes us wedding planners now..?" Myla was right, another notch to add to our ever-expanding list of- Okay, I need to pass out.