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Bernard’s room was pleasantly temperate when he woke the next morning to the familiar coastal dawn outside his window. A couple of ring-billed gulls called, and he lay there for a minute, picturing the sun as it glistened cheerfully off the waters of the nearby Atlantic. A few shorebirds made their morning journey from their woodland roosts to the rich coastal waters.
Somewhere out there, the Town of Edisto Beach was already alive with early-morning Memorial Day vacationers roaming her beaches, along with the occasional blue-shirted conservation volunteer, out looking for the distinctive tractor-like tracks of sea turtles. One of them had offered to cover his section for the weekend. Now that he had a job, they would probably continue covering it—though he hoped he could remain open for hatchings and inventory.
Slowly, as he stared sleepily out his bedroom window, the sun inched skyward through tall pines, twisted live oaks, bushy wax myrtles, and distinctively plumed palmettos. Soon, its rays would dry up the night’s meager dew from the drought-afflicted fields across the island. The little rain they’d had was no match for that burning radioactive ball in the sky.
He closed his eyes, wanting to go back to sleep, but a thought kept pulling him back awake: Toby was bored. Very, very bored. It was time to get up and enjoy the morning before it got too hot! It was time to get up! Time to get up! Time to –
“You gotta be shitting me,” he grumbled, stuffing his pillow over his head, as though it would help.
~Spoil-sport.~
He could hear his mother out in the hall, calling to her husband with little regard for the fact that at least one of her children was still supposedly sleeping, “The thermostat says it’s set to seventy-six, Baby. It’s sixty-two in here! Fifty-eight! Do you think it’s broken?”
Drestan’s voice called back, “There’s no air coming out of the vents! Another night like this and the pipes will freeze. They’re cold enough, as it is. ‘Fridge is icing over, too. I’m not sure what the deal is. I gotta run, Babe. Someone’s using our work site as a parking lot. Shouldn’t take long with the sheriff’s help. If it’s still a problem when I get back, we’ll call Jamie to come look at it.”
“Tell them they’re not the only ones trying to enjoy a holiday!”
If you break those pipes . . . Bernard thought.
~I have not damaged anything.~ Toby murmured in his head, indignant. He could sense the spirit-like being huddled around the downstairs storage freezer and in the air vents.
Drestan walked out the door, and Bernard sighed, trying to go back to sleep.
He dozed on and off for a while until about ten-thirty, when he finally pulled himself to his feet and dragged a bucket of cleaning equipment out from under his 75-gallon soft water fish tank. He’d meant to clean it last Thursday but hadn’t gotten around to it. He left the bucket out to remind himself to do it later, and fed his Fire Eel.
Reaching for the television, Bernard turned the Genesis on and picked up the controller, seeking its familiarity. He’d put Sonic aside three weeks ago because he was sick of doing the same level over and over, but time had renewed his determination.
The phone rang, and he heard his mother answer, “Hello? Oh, good morning, Jess! Or afternoon, rather. Close enough. No, he’s still asleep, but don’t let that stop you! Alright, then, twelve will be just fine, if you’re sure you’re up to so much driving. Haha, I totally understand! Alright then! We’ll see you then! Bye!”
He was halfway through the level and was coming up on the part that usually gave him problems.
There was a knock on his door.
“I’m up.”
His mother opened it, and leaned over the pet gate to give the television a critical look. “Why don’t you go outside, babe? It’s a beautiful day. And how is your room so warm. . . .”
It wasn’t a request, but he chose to treat it like one. “No thanks. I’ve been outside all weekend, and I rather stay right here.”
She frowned and chose not to argue with him, “Well, Jez and Rubie are coming over. I want all four of you kids to do something with yourselves. Outside. ‘Dessa’s sitting around watching cartoons. As a matter of fact, why don’t you go join her? Go spend some time with your sister, Bernie.”
She must have been in a good mood, not to call him “Max,” or any variation thereof.
Still. “And sit through all that garbage?”
“After all the crap you watched as a child, Maxwell Bernard. . . .”
~That was a less than glowing review,~ Toby remarked, amused.
He smirked. “What I watched was worth watching. At the very least, it was thought-provoking.”
“That was not thought-provoking.”
“The crap she’s watching will rot your brain.”
“Lion-O rotted mine,” his mother snorted, trying not to laugh, as she was still less than amused with his attempt to remain in his room, playing video games.
“Don’t you mean Snarf. . . .”
“Whatever, Max.”
He laughed, “No, it’s not ‘whatever.’ There’s a difference—“
She drew a breath, visibly torn between emotions, “It was all crap, no matter what it was called. Whether it was Thundercats, He-Man, or Gi-Joe. Hours and hours of bullcrap.”
“Then why in the world did you spend so much time watching T.V. with me?”
“I am honestly not sure.”
He raised his brows, but his eyes never left the screen, “You seemed interested, to me.”
“Well, not all of it was bad, I guess. Some of your shows looked nice, anyway. Very . . . Frazetta. Very Vallejo. But you know what? If you want someone to talk to, it turns out Drestan remembers the Thundercats rather fondly.”
~Your mother has interesting tastes.~
Bernard grinned, “Well, of course. They were in style. Now everything looks like . . . whatever trash ‘Dessa’s watching. Come on: I’m sitting here, engaged in a problem-solving exercise, and you want me to go out there and waste away on the couch? I’m not a babysitter, Mom, and she’s ten.”
“When you were her age—” his mother began.
“When I was her age I was laying conduit, nailing drywall, and coding my own computer games.” A lot of things had changed about his life as he knew it, but that part was still true!
“You’re her brother,” she said with a hand on her hip.
“I gotta do everything?”
“You sure wanted to wire the house!” she snapped.
After his father had left, Bernard had dedicated himself to filling in the gap—though he’d been to young to realize he was doing it. She, however, had taken the mantle of both mother and father onto herself, until one day they’d clashed over it. At six years old he had a huge fight with his mother, until Drestan intervened and renegotiated Bernard’s household responsibilities—or rather, gave him new chores in terms his tiny little brain was willing to accept. To him, chores were part of keeping the house running, and the unspoken rule had always been: “Don’t make Mom do it,” followed immediately by, “Stay out of Mom’s way.”
Now his mother was letting his ten-year-old sister spend the whole morning watching cartoons and expecting him to go look after her. That was one thing he was not willing to do!
“Sure it’s not because she’s a girl?”
“Yes,” his mother sneered, not missing his tone, meaning, or snarky humor for a second, “I’m sure it’s not because she’s a girl. She’s your sister, and you should be spending time with her—especially if you’re going to be working all summer—but you know what? Fine, Max. You don’t have to watch TV, but I do expect you to spend time with her when you’re not at work. I guess I could use someone to come help shell all these crabs.”
Sonic drowned, and Bernard swore under his breath as the level restarted. Though his mother frowned at him, she let it go. Instead, she nodded to the bucket by his fish tank. “If you’re going to clean that, do it soon, and don’t you dare dump that nasty water on my garden!”
He nodded vaguely. “Right, right, I’ll take care of it.” He couldn’t believe he was doing the level over again. He’d been so close, this time!
She set her hands sternly on the pet gate in his door, “I mean it, Maxwell! I don’t want that shit in my vegetable garden! We eat those! And I don’t want you to kill my flowers, either! So how about not dumping fish water on any of my plants?”
“Sure thing, Mom.”
He sighed as the level started over again.
She shook her head, “What I am gonna do with you . . . , ” and she walked away.
Toby moved underground, muttering, ~Is this really what you do all day?~
Pretty much, he thought, It’s blistering hot most of the year, and the woods are full of bloodsucking parasites and Lyme Disease. Not that it usually stops me, but I just spent my whole weekend remembering things I’d just as soon forget, and I couldn’t be happier to see my own room right now.
~If I told you I could keep you from breaking a sweat, and even protect you from most of the bugs, will you go get the bug spray and put on those hunting boots sitting in the back of your closet?~
He sighed heavily. I don’t know what it is with you and mornings, but we’ll go when Jez and Ruben get here, okay?
~But the weather is so nice right now. . . .~
With that, Toby fell silent and drifted off to the creek. A minute later, Bernard got fed up with Sonic, shut off the television and game system, and got up and take care of his fish.
He swept the plastic vacuum hose around the tank, pulling debris up out of the gravel. He couldn’t keep many live plants, because his fish would dig them up, but he had several Java Ferns and Anubias thriving, firmly rooted to rocks and driftwood. His Spotted Raphael Cat was hiding in a cave in the middle of the tank, and wouldn’t come out until after dark, but the eel undulated lazily across the tank, out of his way.
So, what exactly does the Agency want me to do? See through walls?
~… Well . . . it is a bit more than that. I will tell you when you are ready,~ Toby answered, as though from far away. He was uncomfortable with the subject.
But it’s something only you and I can do.
~That is correct. Enjoy your normal routine while it lasts, although it could do with some improvement. It is times such as this that many Agents have learned to value the most. The calm, quiet, ordinary moments. It may not have seemed like it, but Saara and Loren greatly enjoyed themselves, this weekend, because they know at least somewhat what we have to do, and they know that this case is bigger and potentially more dangerous than anything the Agency has ever approached before, short of the Nightmare Case.~
He pulled the vacuum out of the tank and stashed it in another bucket.
As long as Zirol doesn’t show up in my house.
~That would, indeed, be catastrophic.~
Grunting under his breath, he hauled about seven gallons of water across the bedroom, over the pet gate, and down the hall. For now, the ordinary moments were just that: completely ordinary.
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The sweet, mouthwatering smell of cooked blue crab wafted from the kitchen, filling the house. His mother was shelling them for meat. Most people chilled them until they stopped moving and then shelled them alive, but she’d never had the heart for it. Intrigued by the smell, he set the bucket by the back door and started toward her.
“No!” she said sharply, lifting a commanding hand, dripping with crab juices, “You take that nasty water outside and finish what you’re doing, and you wash your hands really well before you set another foot in this kitchen!”
He grimaced and grumbled, “I’m not going to touch anything.”
“I don’t care,” she snapped, turning back to a messy platter covered in newspaper and crab juices. She had two bowls set out: one for the innards and shells, and one for the meat.
He watched her for a few seconds and asked, “Soup or Salad?”
“Salad and crab cakes,” she declared, “Pulled up eight of them this morning, and I thought, why not? If I have enough leftover, I’ll freeze some, but I’m not planning on it. Or, how about deviled crab for lunch, how does that sound?”
“Amazing.”
He dragged the water outside and glanced over the edge of the rail, making sure he wasn’t dumping it on anything, before he finally emptied it, and scooped a handful of fallen live oak leaves up off the deck and into the bucket before he walked back to the hall bathroom to refill it from the bathtub spigot. The tannins from the leaves kept the pH high and gave the water a nice, natural brown color.
The phone rang again as he adding water to the tank, and he heard his mother pick it up. “Hello? Oh, good morning! What can I do for you? Oh . . . well, that’s very kind of you. He’s doing just fine—or as well as ever, anyway. Really?! He didn’t mention it! How odd . . . , ” she laughed, “Yes, well, he’s fine, now. Is that so? Oh, you’re more than welcome to! Yes, we’d love to! Oh, that would be lovely! No, no, it’s no trouble at all! I’ll talk to Drestan when he gets back for lunch. You’re free to join us if you’d like! Oh, that’s no problem, at all! We’ll see you in a couple of hours, then! . . . Bye!”
The phone clicked as she hung up, and then she walked down the hall. To his door.
“You didn’t tell me you were having problems sleeping.”
He almost dropped the bucket of water. As it was, a little splashed over the side of the tank, and he swore again.
“Are you feeling well, sweetie?”
He adjusted the bucket, “Fine, Mom. Just had a bad dream the first night.”
“I just wanted to be sure, since you were also in bed all morning.” She walked away, calling back, “We’ll be going out to see the estate after we eat!”
Odessa’s voice piped up from the couch. “Where are we going?”
“Your brother’s new workplace, from the sound of it.”
“HORSES!”
“So I’m gonna need your help after your show is over.”
“Awwww. . . .”
Bernard smirked, and finished taking care of his fish. Then he put the bucket away, his mind wandering to other things: like last night’s dreams.
~Memories.~
About halfway down the hall, he stopped in his tracks, a single solitary thought rising from the too-familiar sounds, smells, and fears of a lifetime he’d forgotten.
The things we treasure most.
~Make memories that count, Bernard.~
* * * * *
From the look on his face, Ruben seemed to think something was out of place the moment he set foot on the property. He said nothing of it, however, and simply walked into the house with his mother, followed by his father and a luscious-smelling pecan pie. He quietly parted ways from the family after greeting everyone, and followed a pendulum down the hall.
No one paid him any mind. Ruben was weird, and they were all getting used to it.
Bernard was sure he was looking for Toby.
Drestan had called to say he’d be back for lunch in an hour, so Bernard and Jez grabbed a canoe and took off up the creek, rowing against the tide with Jez taking the helm and Bernard steering. The sun gleamed off the green summer marsh grasses, and a nice breeze whisked past them as they went. The familiar smell of silty pluff mudd hung in the wind. A few laughing gulls cried, and somewhere they heard a fish jump.
In the distance, they watched a pair of snowy egrets stalking through the grass, their crested heads high and alert on slender necks, black bills tilting this way and that as they surveyed the marsh. Long, thin legs carried them with slow, cautious deliberation. Years ago, they had taught Bernard the value of slowing down once in a while.
Many animals practiced patience in ways that the average human might find unnatural. It was possible that the Ryozaem were the same way. That doctor seemed like he might have that sort of patience. Though after watching Saara and Loren, Bernard doubted if it was a universal trait.
An egret glanced down, slowly coiled its neck, and fired its bill into the reeds. From the way it jerked back, it had caught a fish.
If Zirol had that kind of patience, they might be looking for him for a long time.
After a while, Toby said, ~I have checked the area. You are alone if you wish to speak openly.~
Jez said, “You don’t want me to speak my mind, dude. Trust me.”
~I am aware that you are feeling volatile.~
Before she could answer him, Bernard asked, “So, how long is this supposed to last? Are we basically just guaranteed jobs from here on out, or just until this Zirol thing is resolved? If it’s ever resolved.”
Jez added, “If it’s ever resolved in our lifetimes and we’re not killed first.”
~That depends on what you want,~ Toby answered, ~As long as you choose to continue with ETHICS, you are guaranteed secure housing, reliable transportation, excellent healthcare—offworld, if you need it—and anything else you may require. It may seem excessive compared to what you’re used to, but remember that most employees are refugees who need those things, many of whom allocate a percentage of pay to have families housed and cared for by the Agency. Offering the same to you Terrans to whatever extent they can is not only policy, it makes the job worth your while. It is their way of thanking you for your service and sacrificing your time and your ordinary Terran lives for them.
~Should your cover be blown, however, the Agency will have to step in, and there is a chance you will have to relocate to Shonthera. Alternatively, being Terrans, you may choose relocate on Earth, so long as it does not bring you back here.~
She grimaced. “So as long as we don’t blow cover or compromise ETHICS to their enemies. , and do as we’re told, we’ll be just fine.”
~You make it sound like a terrible thing! There are many, many positions you can take with ETHICS, particularly if you chose to work extraterrestrially! You may do whatever you like, in the service of our company, and the rewards are too great to ignore!~
“That’s just wonderful.”
Her paddle’s strokes were becoming hard and erratic. Bernard realized that there was no guarantee that she might not throw the paddle out of frustration. So he asked, “What kinds of safety measures does ETHICS have in place to make sure this whole plan doesn’t get us all killed?”
~Oh! Several!~ Toby replied cheerfully, ~Myself, for one. Secrecy and discretion are key parts of our operation, as well. We have Sam with us, and she is both bred and trained for combat, and a single call to HQ will bring others like her to our aid. And you will have other help, as well. They shall hopefully be here in a few hours. Since I can only be where Bernard is, their aid will be necessary.~
As Toby was speaking, Bernard began to notice something strange. He paused in mid stroke, slowly lowering his paddle back to the water when the canoe started drifting back.
“What is it?” Jez asked.
He’d felt something. Not physically, but in an unexplainable way he’d suddenly become aware of a large, flat creature resting on the bottom of the creek, buried in the mud with only its two bulbous eyes showing above the silt. He started to reach for Drestan’s fishing gig resting on the bottom of the boat. Then he hesitated.
The flounder was one of the biggest Bernard had ever seen. Just the thought of that mild, tender flesh was enough to make his mouth water.
Instead, he drew his hand back and made slow, gentle strokes with his paddle, just enough to keep the canoe in the same spot.
It was no surprise that flounder was typically served thickly breaded and cooked to death. It didn’t taste the same if it didn’t come straight from the ocean. Getting it this fresh was a rare delight . . . but he really hadn’t found this one fairly, and his family wasn’t exactly wanting. Lunch was already being prepared, and his mother had enough crab and other goods to make several more meals. Stabbing such a strong, grown specimen for the sake thereof was a waste, especially one that could still go on to make more flounders, just as strong, juicy, and tender as this one.
Jez broke into his thoughts, “Are you going to tell me what’s going on, Bern, or am I gonna spend the rest of my afternoon watching you stare at the water?”
Something else much larger and more powerful cruised toward them, causing him to catch his breath.
“Come back to Earth, please,” Jez called, “You’re acting like Rubie, and it’s freaking me out.”
He let a long breath as the small shark, around two feet long, gave a wide berth to the shadow of his boat as his cousin’s voice echoed from the hull, and it moved along on its way with the impressive speed and smoothness of a living torpedo.
Blue crabs scuttled along the bottom of the creek. A school of minnows darted in and out of the reeds, feeding on grass shrimp and avoiding predators like the young shark. Further upstream, an impressive Spot Bass eyed another school, moved in slowly, and snapped, nabbing itself a quick bite.
The marshlands breamed with the cycles life; the grass drinking in the sun and soaking up nutrients from the sediment, and the microscopic creatures which thrived on decay and passed their own rich nutrients up the food chain. Many of the living things that thrived here also depended upon the dense, cool woodlands. They, too, had cycles of their own, running deeper into the soil than he’d imagined.
Silver had been right: the Earth’s cycles of growth and decay, expansion and contraction, were organ-like, both a slow and steady beating heart and an immense lung. She was very much alive.
Seeing it this way took his breath away.
The heart-pounding thrill of discovery was tempered by the knowledge that those same cycles that were dying by the acre every year, right here in his hometown.
The grassy lawns of Western Man had no place here.
But he had watched the bulldozers tear down the old palms and scalp the rich, healthy earth from the ground. Most of the woodlands on this island were less than a century old, but a century had given the ecosystem time to recover some of its pre-Colonial glory. Nowhere near what it had been, he was certain, but the foundation was laid, and it could become that place again.
He’d worked with Drestan on some of the new houses springing up, and he’d met the owners. Few of them were planning to live in their houses, and they generally weren’t the types of people who cared for the life that had been lost. The mere notion of adapting their vision to suit the world around them was an anathema to their cause. It was their right as paying property owners to do as they liked, and that was all that really mattered. It didn't seem to matter them that if everybody wanted that same thing just as they did, some day there'd be nothing left of the beauty that had drawn them in the first place. Nothing to shelter them from the scorching sun.
Although he’d met countless tourists who were fine people, plenty of others shared the same philosophy: Their money had paid for a vacation, and they ought to have it exactly as they liked. Town rules, ecosystems, and human decency be damned.
That growth had not yet reached his corner of the Island. Most of it was on the Beach side of the county line. Here, he could quietly enjoy the world around him without hitting a private dock every few minutes. It was a world in full growth, ready for summer to begin.
“For God’s sake, Maxwell, just say something!” Jez cried, splashing him with her paddle.
The saltwater hitting his face tore him from his reverie. “Dammit, Jez!” He tilted his paddle and hauled the creek back at her. He was more comfortable in this element, and drenched her.
“I’m not the one wandering off into space!” she shouted, scaring off the fish below them, “What is wrong with you?”
He took a breath, collected himself, and said, “Jez, you don’t understand. I can see everything that lives here. It’s overwhelming. The whole thing—everything—is alive, and I can feel it.”
“Yeah,” she said, “That’s great. It’s something Rubie would say. Would you fucking stop it?”
Until that moment, he hadn’t realized how much his grip had tightened on the metal shaft of his paddle. He forced himself to loosen his grip, and began drawing slow, even breaths.
He shook his head, “It’s not me, it’s Toby. He likes the water because it’s cool, but now I can see everything that moves. Or rather, I’m aware of it. There’s not much to see in these waters.” She didn’t need to know he’d gotten lost in thought.
~I was sharing because I wanted to show you what we can do. May I also say, you have a curious ability to empathize with the life in these waters. You are able to divorce yourself from your human instincts and relate with others different from yourself. You would do well in our Public Relations department. Better than your father, I dare suggest. You have—and trust me when I say this, for I know something more of it than you do—valuable qualities, when it comes to the way you think of other lifeforms. It is an advantage that will serve you well. If life is discovered somewhere new, like on one of Jupiter’s moons, or Saturn’s, or one of the Kuai’Nar planets, they’re going to want us on the investigative team.~
“Sure,” Bernard laughed, “Because I know how fish think.”
~And you pray over the things you kill.~
Jez turned and stared at him. “Really?”
Bernard glared at the water. “No one else was ever supposed to know that.”
~There is no shame in it,~ Toby said, ~It is an endearing trait~
“It doesn’t make me that different from any other human being.”
Then Toby said aloud, “What about your relationship with me?”
Bernard set his paddle to the water, powering them forward as though he could row his way out of this conversation. “What about it? That was your choice, wasn’t it?”
There was a moment of silence, as Bernard realized what he’d just said.
Toby resumed his telepathic speech. ~I never told you that, but yes. I did sense you . . . a child, not unlike myself, in some respects. Kind-spirited, and yet . . . so full of bitterness. Already so accomplished, as well. You had already shown a respectable regard for non-human life. Most humans—and that is not to say all, but most of them—no matter how much they respect non-human life, they will seek human qualities in it. They are continually astounded by the ways other creatures appear to resemble themselves, or the ways they think other creatures resemble themselves. You, on the other hand, are one of those who seeks the qualities we truly possess. You, unlike many humans—many creatures—respect that intelligence comes in many, many forms. That will prove critical to your future. Many Ryozae are still quite Terran, but there are others in this universe who are far less familiar—my own people included. I grew up in human company, so I have adapted. There are others who see the universe from a very different point of view.~
Jez helped him, “Bernard doesn’t just look for a scientific understanding of a dog. He becomes the dog.” She jabbed her paddle at him, spraying water.
~Yes. In a sense. It is innate and fascinating. And to think, I agreed to part from you! Although I never truly detached myself. I could not bring myself to do it. Perhaps you’ve felt it in recent years . . . a sensation of something missing, comfort in the touch of colder water than most people might dare to make everyday contact with . . . , ~ this last remark held a touch of humor, as he made a specific reference.
One that Jez didn’t miss. “Yeah. Swimming in Mid-March. We thought you were trying to get in touch with your inner penguin.”
“Who says I wasn’t?” Bernard laughed.
Truthfully, he was only half-joking. The act was cathartic, for the same reason that he would sometimes go for a walk down their dirt road, beneath the shelter of the trees, and listen to the natural world around him. Moments like these were a release from the pressures of society–from being “civilized.” Alone, with himself, there was no “in” crowd, and there were no outsiders. None of the racial isolation and insecurity that so pre-occupied him. Just the woods, and all the creatures in it. Or the pure emptiness of drifting free in ice-cold water.
He glanced down at his watch, realizing how much time he'd spent doing just that, here on the creek. “We should head back.”
He pulled his paddle against their path of travel current to rotate the craft so they could ride the current back to the house. Then he smirked, and flicked it up out of the water, nailing his cousin again.
Jez smacked her paddle back at him. They continued like this, scaring off every other animal around as they laughed and drenched each other.
Their shocked family fussed over their soaking wet clothes, until they finally decided to move lunch out onto the deck. Crab cakes, butter beans, pasta salad, sweet tea, and pecan pie. The weather was nice, the view was beautiful, and everyone was in high spirits.
It was such a simple thing, but it was a memory he wanted to keep for the rest of his life.