The guitar lesson was over, and there was still no response from Dan. Freya had been so excited when she got the tickets but, as she thought about it, she realized she didn’t have anyone to take.

She had no idea if Lassa would be back by then, or if she would ever come home at all. Freya didn’t know Dan well enough to invite him to a concert. She tried to picture inviting Radomir, he’d stood up for her after all, but even thinking about it felt awkward. The more Freya considered it, the more certain she became there would be an empty seat next to her, and her plus-one would be a rock from outer space.

She spent almost an hour trying to untangle everything she’d missed in Trigonometry, working back through the lessons. Freya was further behind than she’d thought, but maybe she could catch up if she didn’t slip back into the pit.

Her fingers dipped inside her pocket for assurance. The Starball wouldn’t let that happen. Midway through a section on sinusoidal models, she realized she was just reading not actually learning. She’d hit her limit for the night.

It was time to run.

“Freya Atreides, God Emperor of Dune,” she announced to the garage, feeling prescient. Last week, she’d pumped up Randall’s tires on a whim and, today, it paid off.

She pulled the bicycle down, adjusted the seat, and remembered she would need to bring tools to Grayson tomorrow to fix her own bike. Randall kept a little toolbox behind the seat of his pickup. It would be perfect. A thin film of dust covered the truck. Randall wasn’t around to wash it on Sunday mornings anymore.

Freya had a weird urge to wash the truck herself. She pictured herself out there in the driveway, freezing cold in the dark and washing a truck no one drove. She decided that was insane, but she still sort of wanted to do it. Freya promised herself if Lassa wasn’t back by Sunday morning, she would wash the truck.

Really, she ought to just get her license and start driving it. She’d had her learner’s permit since she was fifteen. Randall had taught her to drive the pickup in the library parking lot.

Freya remembered the truck bucking forward and stalling out again and again as she tried to get the hang of the clutch. She’d gotten frustrated and asked why she couldn’t learn on an automatic first. Randall had grinned and told Freya she would need to drive stick when he was retired, and she chauffeured him around Europe.

The transmission had taken a pounding, but Randall hadn’t cared. She finally learned to drive stick, though cars that got too close to her rear end when she was stopped on an incline still filled her with mortal terror.

They would never take that trip to Europe. Freya felt herself plunge, and she reached for the Starball, clenching her fist around it her pocket.

“I wish you were here,” Freya said into the empty garage. Her voice disappeared into a thousand things he had touched and would never hold again. Randall would have known what to do about the Starball. He would have been delighted to come with her to the concert. He would have been proud of Freya for playing so well.

Freya wondered if the truck would even start. She pictured herself cranking down the windows, sitting in the driver’s seat, turning the key in the ignition, and letting the exhaust fill the garage. The Starball grew warm in her palm, and she leveled out, the despair retreating into nothing.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Freya wondered what would happen if she tried to climb into the truck. Would the Starball hit her with nausea again? Why could it do these things but not talk to her? Did it understand what she was thinking or was it just responding to her heartrate?

She became convinced the Starball understood what she was thinking. The aversion was generated in response to her intent not her action. It was reading her, but it couldn’t write back. She opened the garage door and got on the bicycle. Then she dismounted, re-adjusted the seat, and set off.

The sprocket on Randall’s bike clicked as Freya rode to Nading Hill Park. She should have oiled it. The night air was biting, but she knew she’d be sweating soon enough. She parked the bike, stretched, and ran with only moonlight to see the track. She pushed harder than usual tonight, trying to get ahead of her racing thoughts.

If the locker blocked the Starball, then was it using radio waves to control her? How was she receiving them if so? Somehow, it could change her emotions, and she was attuned to the sensation now. Freya remembered the night she’d found the Starball, the dot of blood on her palm. Was there a receiver embedded in her palm, too small or too deep to be seen?? She held up her hand uselessly. It was dark, and she wore gloves. She could check with the microscope tomorrow.

As Freya considered it, she wondered if it would use nausea to keep her from this line of thought, but she only felt the normal exertion of running. Could the Starball not reach her while she was running? Would it show up on a CT scan? Freya realized if doctors scanned her and found anything, they would try to take it out. She didn’t want that. She’d had enough of Gray Freya.

Lap after lap, Freya fought to get ahead of her thoughts and, finally, she outran herself. She reached a plateau where there was only the sound of the sighing wind, the steady fall of her steps, and her increasingly labored breaths.

Freya hadn’t eaten enough today; she could barely make the twentieth lap. She finished at a stumbling jog and staggered into the grass by Randall’s bicycle. She welcomed it all, the claws in her sides, the burning in her lungs, it was all better than the anxiety she’d felt before. Freya sprawled on her back and panted at the moon, letting the ground drink her heat. The stars seemed to pulse with every breath.

“Where did you come from?” she asked the Starball, pulling it from her pocket and extending it to cover Sirius. “Are you the first? Are there more coming?”

Freya’s voice hung in the night air. She imagined the sky lit up with ships, a massive invasion force descending to conquer the Earth. It was a stupid idea. What could anyone possibly want here? What was worth the energy of traveling such a vast distance? Surely any minerals on Earth could be gotten easier elsewhere.

It was much more likely the Starball was a scientific instrument, meant to observe and report back. She might have just spent the entire morning masturbating for an audience of alien scientists. The thought didn’t bother her much. She wasn’t even sure the Starball could sense light. She hadn’t seen any indication of a lens.

Maybe they were a race without eyes, evolved in the depths of some rogue planet caught between the stars. She imagined a race of squat lizard people spawning in caves and clinging to geothermal heat.

Was she doing the Starball a disservice keeping it in her pocket all the time? Freya thought about fashioning a wire pendant and wearing the Starball on a chain around her neck so it could see. She cleared her thoughts, listening to see if the idea made her feel positively or negatively. She was alert for the tiniest nudge from the Starball.

There was nothing but the cold seeping in. She stood up and dusted herself off, taking the jacket she’d draped over the bicycle and putting it back on. She’d left her phone in her jacket pocket. When she checked it, there were no texts. None of her transmissions got a response.

Freya put on her jacket and gloves and biked home alone. The sprocket creaked with every stroke.