The best things always pass the quickest. Soon enough, we were downstairs again for dinner.
The dining room was at the back of the house, facing the forest, and seemed as though it was probably a conservatory before it had been repurposed in some past design. Most of the walls were glass, and we had a direct view of the garden, such that it was. Shiko's grandmother was completely unlike her daughter in law in that she seemed to prefer to simply let nature take its course - there was a small patio, a pond that may or may not have been intentional, and that was it.
On top of being late winter, it was now definitively night, so there wasn't much to see anyway. Just vague impressions of leafless trees, and the disputed guest house/shed in the distance, the lights left on and casting the surrounding area in a faint, white glow.
Her grandmother's cooking was usually a cross between Rhunbardic and Saoic food. Today we were having some kind of spicy pork curry. It wasn't quite to my taste, but it was a lot better than the simple meals I normally had at home. Neither of the Isiyahlas, the family which ran the foster home, were particularly good cooks, and the Itanese government was fairly stingy about how many ingredients you could get at the distribution centers. The range was pretty poor, too.
Another thing I'd failed to understand at the time was that this was largely by design. Replicating high-quality food was impossibly cheap, and a low-hanging fruit in terms of helping people's quality of life. It was the politics of spite, or 'tough love' if you wanted to be charitable; choosing not to help others for no reason other than them having not earned it, or at least treating it as not worth the infinitesimally minor inconvenience to their betters.
...It's a little surreal to think about it now. I'm saying all this as if it's still visceral in my mind, but the truth is that it isn't at all; as I've said multiple times, I've become so used to living comfortably that I'm practically spoiled. Unless I make a conscious effort to think back, I can completely forget the pangs of hunger, and the bitter dissatisfaction of a cheap, flavorless meal. The lumpiness of a old mattress. The claustrophobic awkwardness of a tiny living space. The cold expressions of people regarding you as ugly and unwholesome.
That maybe frightens me more than anything else. How easy it is to take things for granted.
We were six, around a medium-sized round table. Myself, Shiko, her grandmother, mother and little brother, and Samium. The adults were mostly talking among themselves and ignoring me, which suited me just fine. I kept my eyes to my plate, while only Shiko paid attention to the surrounding conversation.
"Sukunoro, open your mouth," Shiko's mother said to her brother, hovering over him with a spoonful of onions and carrots. "Come on. You can't just eat the bits you like."
"No," the boy, a chubby creature with messy black hair who had only just grown out of needing a highchair, said. "Don't wanna."
"You have to, Sukunoro," she insisted, her expression firm. "You'll like them once you get used to them, and then you'll grow up bigger and stronger."
"No!" he insisted, leaning physically away from the woman. "Gross!"
She pushed the spoon forwards towards his mouth, but he closed his lips tightly, resulting in a piece of onion sticking to the side of his chin. His mother regarded him with a frustrated expression.
On the other hand, Shiko's grandmother seemed amused, leaning her head on the side of her hand as she chuckled to herself. "This one's taking after his dad."
Samium looked on with a smile as he forked a rice-covered chunk of meat and delivered it to his mouth.
Her mother didn't seem to appreciate this interjection, regarding the older (though her grandmother actually came across as the younger of the two if you judged on aesthetics) woman with a flat expression. "Please don't encourage him, Tahazili."
"Sorry," she said, with about the standard level of sincerity that older people have when apologizing to the young.
"He's at a very delicate age right now," Shiko's mother spoke firmly. "If he doesn't get used to eating his vegetables now, he could be neurotic about them for decades."
"I mean, it doesn't really matter, does it?" she replied with a shrug. "Nowadays you can get your nutrition managed with pills anyway. It's not like when we were kids, when it actually mattered what you ate." She took a sip of red wine from a glass at the side of her plate.
"There's still no long-term research into the subject," her mother replied, frowning. "And besides, it's not simply a matter of health. There are social consequences to having a limited palate."
"Whatever you say," she said, smirking as she put the glass back down. "Though if you ask me, you got lucky with this one." She jerked her thumb towards Shiko. "Most kids are more like this."
Her little brother had started picking the herbs out of his rice, his brow furrowed deeply.
"Was I really that obedient, when I was little...?" Shiko asked curiously.
Her mother snorted. "I'd put it less that you were 'obedient' and more that you'd scarf down anything I put in front of you. You were always hungry. I had to take the cutlery off of you so you'd stop chewing on it."
Shiko, her grandmother and Samium all laughed, the latter's cheeks bulging due to his mouth being stuffed with food.
Shiko's mother sighed with resignation, seeming to accept that she wasn't going to make any progress. She turned to Samium. "So, administrator. How are you liking Itan so far?"
Samium chuckled. "'Administrator'? Been a while since I've been indulged with that old honorary title." He leaned forward a bit. "Come on, it's not like we're strangers. Call me Sam, or Samium at least."
She smiled at him, but there was a subtle tension to it. I didn't really understand why at the time, but Shiko's mother seemed subtly uneasy about Samium's presence here. Not that uneasy, but enough that it showed. "Samium, then. What do you think of the island?"
He looked thoughtful for a moment, scratching the underside of his beard with his free hand. "Mm, it seems nice enough, I suppose. I haven't been here in almost a century, but it's barely changed at all-- Like a town locked in time, I suppose you could say."
Mentally, I rolled my eyes at this. Wealthy people will always find ways to paint poverty as quaint.
"Heheh, that's a charitable way of putting it," Shiko's grandmother, who was more self-aware, said. "It's a bit of a shit-hole, don't you think?"
"Tahazili, please try to mind your language," Shiko's mother said, more pleading than stern. "At least while Sukuno is here."
"Y'know, if I didn't know better, I'd think I was the staying at your house and was married to your kid, not the other way around," the woman replied, jabbing a fork in the other woman's direction.
"I'm just saying, it wouldn't hurt to be a little more conscientious," Shiko's mother insisted, holding up a hand. "And I know I've only been here for a couple of years now, but I really don't think it's that bad. Some parts in town seem a little deprived, but the theater is nice, and I've never had any trouble finding anything from the shops. It's hardly Altaia or Old Yru, but it's not as though we're eking out a living on the Lower Planes."
"Kat, you get stuff delivered from the mainland every week," her grandmother retorted. "And I've barely seen you take two steps out of the neighborhood."
"It's not every week," she said, defensive. "And I've never been that outgoing. You know that." She shook her head. "Look-- I'm not pretending to be some expert. I'm just saying that calling it an 's-word hole' seems a little melodramatic. It has its flaws, but it's also very peaceful. Toyoki always says the same thing."
In some ways, Shiko's mother... My mother, has a little bit of the same quality to her as Kamrusepa. Maybe that's part of the reason the two of us are always bickering.
"Heh, well, that boy's always had rose-colored glasses thick enough I'm surprised he doesn't have neck problems," she said, shaking her head as she put some rice in her mouth. "I'd have moved away a century ago myself if I didn't have so much damn nostalgia from growing up in the place myself. Not that you can even recognize it from those days." She looked to Samium. "Sorry, hope you don't feel awkward seeing us bicker like this."
"Oh no, not at all," he said. "Well-- I should say, obviously I'm not blind to the island's poor economic situation. That's part of why I'm here, after all. It's an outlier at this point in terms of the Saoic coast... But I'm always a believer you should try to see the glass half full in these sort of circumstances. There's no such thing as a bad place, just one that hasn't been raised to its full potential." He took another bite of meat. "Mm-- This curry is lovely."
"Thanks," Shiko's grandmother said flatly. "Old family recipe."
This was sarcasm. It, like the tea, was also from a jar.
"But really, Itan is no exception," Samium continued. "It's positioned excellently for trade between greater Sao and the emerging economies of the Orphaned Continent, and there's a great deal of room for it to grow in terms of tourism, too. We're hoping that we'll be able to agree on the terms of a stimulus pack this week which could bring these opportunities to the forefront of the economy." He hesitated. "...and though it might be difficult, I'm holding out hope that the government might be swayed more towards the norm of the modern Alliance this week."
"That sounds very promising," Shiko's mother said. "What's your role to be in the negotiation process, if I might ask?"
Samium gave a soft snort of laughter, his face flushing a bit. "Not altogether very much, to speak truthfully. My role is mostly ceremonial. I'm to read a statement on the issue penned by the First Administrator's office, then at the disposal of the committee as an expert advisor. I said 'we' a moment ago, but I've only really been briefed on the bare essentials of our goals."
"I see." She smiled tightly. "Well, a man your age shouldn't be overworking yourself, in any case. There's no shame in leaving things to the younger generations."
"Heheh, you're lucky your father isn't here to hear you say that," Samium told her. "He might take it personally."
"Hah, yes," she said, sipping from her glass of water.
There was a moment of awkwardness. I didn't understand it at all as myself at the time, but the truth was that her grandfather's dementia had already progressed significantly, even then. He was past the point where he took anything personally with any consistency.
"But you're right," Samium went on, after a moment. "All things considered, I'm happy to step into the background and leave it to people who still have something to prove to the world. And I know from experience that everyone involved is committed to the prosperity of the Grand Alliance, so I'm sure it will turn out well."
"I'm not so sure," Shiko's grandmother said skeptically. "It's all well and good to talk about the ways the island could be run better, but the fact is that this place is run by a clique of like, three families. The Yuekas, Kummiyaziti, the Jins... It's been that way since I was a kid." She scraped some lingering curry along the edge of her fork. "Even if we do start bringing in more wealth - although, I feel like all that means nowadays is how many arcanists you can convince to live somewhere, when you cut through all the fluff - they're just gonna hoard it all for themselves and their friends anyway."
Samium frowned slightly. "That's a bit of a cynical way to look at it, Tahazili. There is somewhat worrying consolidation of industry here, it's true, but this isn't a zero sum game." He slurped a little from her glass. "The economy of the world is more united than ever. Outside investment could easily shake things up."
"Then they'll keep it out," the older woman said, shrugging. "No offense, but I don't really figure how you types from Old Yru think this sh-- This crap can work. If you already have power and don't wanna let it go, it's not like you're even gonna allow somebody a chance to beat you at your own game when you can just not play at all. People like that would rather be king of a fish tank than just one asshole in a lake."
"Can we not do this, please...?" Shiko's mother said softly, a frown forming on her tall brow.
"I do understand what you're saying," Samium said, "But, there are measures we can take if it does seem that there's corruption to a degree that can't be resolved by conventional policy, especially with the reforms to the Special Powers Decree currently in the works."
It was strange to hear, but defending the power of the Grand Alliance like this seemed to bring out another side to him. He was no longer quite the wistful old man he'd been telling his old war story, but a little sharper, more intense.
"Isn't Rhunbard already watering that legislation down to basically nothing?" she continued. Behind her, Shiko's brother flicked a piece of onion at the glass doorway behind him, but at an angle where only her and I could see it. "Look, I don't mean to be too on the nose about it, but the Convention's never come down on a government like that. Not even once, even when it caused the mess we're in now. They're too scared of the big Idealist and Meritist powers pulling out and the whole project losing legitimacy."
"I think that's somewhat cynical," Samium said. "The ceasefire was barely a year ago. I think a lot of people in government do understand the need for fundamental change."
"I mean, I'm not saying nothing is gonna happen," Shiko's grandmother replied. "I'm sure they'll be some token changes, maybe even one of two that are half way meaningful. But if you ask me, people have never been able to figure out a solution to assholes getting in power that isn't shooting at them."
Samium seemed at a bit of a loss after that, blinking a few times.
"If you're going to advocate for the very same thing that led us to having to leave our homes for this island in the first place," Shiko's mother spoke up, speaking a little sternly, "I'd appreciate it if you'd leave it until the children have gone to bed."
"Wanna pudding," Shiko's little brother demanded, thumping the table.
"Not yet, dear," Shiko's mother said, turning to him for a moment. He crossed his arms impetuously.
Shiko, for her part, just laughed awkwardly and mumbled something I didn't hear. From my memory, though, it was something along the lines of 'we didn't have to leave'.
"C'mon, it's nothing they haven't heard before," Shiko's grandmother protested. "Other than the one still in diapers, they're teenagers. I'm not saying anything that's not being blabbered by some asshole on a newscast every morning," She looked to Shiko and I. "You two have probably heard this all before, right?"
Shiko glanced at her mother nervously, wanting to say something diplomatic. "Well, um... We do talk about it at school, and I do try to follow a little politics over the logic bridge..."
I said nothing. My dinner was nearly finished now, but I still didn't really want to be seen, or have anything to say.
"Yeah." Her grandmother nodded. "Anyway, I'm not advocating for anything. You can take a look at the world and see that shooting people doesn't actually fix anything, either." She finished off her wine. "I'm just being a hypocritical old cynic. We've come a long way since I was a kid, so it's easy to forget that every good thing eventually goes to rot, and gets stuck in a corner where it can't fix itself. It's like they teach you in school: Separation begets convention begets paroxysm begets separation. Crap piles up in the mud until it's too tall, then topples back over."
Samium was frowning. "If you'll forgive me for saying so, that seems like a very cynical way of looking at the world, Tahazili."
"Eh," she replied, taking the wine bottle from the middle of the table and pouring herself some more. "How do they put it, in that one sutra...? 'That which prospers inevitably declines, and that which is full inevitably empties.'" She smirked. "See, now I'm being religious, so you can't criticize me."
He laughed a little awkwardly in response, while Shiko's mother looked on at her with a little disapproval.
"Well," Samium said, after a beat. "Regardless of all that, I'm still optimistic. And again, I really do appreciate your hospitality." His eyes flickered, something seeming to come to mind. (Though it was possible he'd just wanted to change the subject.) "Though, speaking of which, I did want to say... There, ah. Seems to be something wrong with the logic bridge in my cabin?"
"Oh dear," Shiko's mother said, embracing this chance a little too obviously. "That's unfortunate. We haven't checked it in a while, have we, Tahazili?"
"Hmm, I guess not, now that I think about it." She rubbed her head a bit and turned towards the ceiling for a moment before reorienting towards Samium. "Sorry, I don't usually go out there-- Did a bit of a rush job cleaning when I heard you were coming to stay for a while. What's wrong with it?"
"Something seems to be the matter with its communication interface," Samium told her. "Every time I try to interface with the logic sea, the link breaks after a few minutes."
"Well, hell." Shiko's grandmother furrowed her brow. "That's not great. You probably need it for your work, right?"
Samium nodded. "I'm afraid it is a bit of problem, yes."
She clicked her tongue. "Well, I don't know the first thing about how those damn things are supposed to work, and it's way too late to get someone to come in and have a look at it now. Do you think you can go a night without? I'd offer you one of the other spare rooms, but they don't have their own bridges at all." She glanced towards Shiko and I for a moment.
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Please don't kick us out into a different room, I thought. Don't ruin the fun.
Maybe she saw the thought written on my face, because she didn't say anything, only making a brief and fleeting smile.
Samium seemed strangely put-off by this, curling his lip slightly and narrowing his eyes for a moment. However, he quickly shook his head and returned to his usual smile. "Well... It's a bit of an inconvenience, but if it's only for one night, it should be fine. And besides, beggars can't be choosers, as the saying goes"
"Alright," Shiko's grandmother said, nodding. "I'll do a summoning and get someone in tomorrow morning. Until then, you can use the one in the front room if you want. It's got a maze writer and everything, and we can clear the place out if you need."
"Thank you," he replied, with a nod. "That's very considerate."
"Oh, speaking of people staying over," she went on, suddenly looking towards me. "You're staying the night too, right, kiddo?"
I was surprised at being suddenly addressed directly, so I hesitated for a moment. "U-Um... That's what we were planning..." I said, hesitant. "Is that okay...?"
"Yeah, it's fine," she replied, with a smile and a nod. "I just wanted to make sure before I got things ready for you."
Her mother regarded me with a strange expression. "Is this the first time you've stayed overnight, ah... I'm sorry, what was your name again?"
"It's Kuroka, mom," Shiko said on my behalf.
"Ahah, that's right..." she said, nodding. "It's a little similar to mine, so I hope you can understand it muddling me a bit."
My face flushed, and I looked towards the table. "It-It's okay..." I said, my voice quiet. "And this, um. My third time staying the night. I was over a couple times last month..."
"Ah, I see. It must've been during my holiday on the mainland." There was a subtle stiffness in her tone. She glanced towards Shiko's grandmother. "Is she staying in her own room?"
"Mmhmm," Shiko's grandmother said, tidying up her plate as she finished.
I glanced downward.
The younger woman considered this for a moment, then nodded. "Alright, then." She looked back towards me and Shiko. "Well, I hope the two of you don't stay up too late. Even if it's a Friday, it's important not to get into any bad habits."
"I know, mom," Shiko replied flatly.
"Sorry, sorry. Don't mean to be a pest." She smiled tightly, and glanced to Samium. "Oh, by the way, Samium... Did you bring your scepter with you, this week?"
"Oh..." He hesitated, rubbing his beard. "Yes, I did, as a matter of fact. Why?"
Her expression became slightly more tense. "Would you mind keeping it out of the house during your stay? I'm sure you remember I can be a little hung up about that sort of thing."
"Oh." He blinked. "...er, yes. I don't mind."
"Alright," she replied. "Thank you. Sorry to make things a little awkward."
"I-It's quite alright," he said.
"Alright," Shiko's grandmother spoke up, pushing the atmosphere aside herself this time. "Who's ready for some dessert?"
𒊹
Shiko and I went back to her room, and had a few more fun hours of watching, reading, and chatting, where the world shined brightly and my heart was light. But soon, that was over too, and I was alone in the guest room they'd prepared for me.
There was nothing wrong with it. The bed was smaller than Shiko's, but it was still significantly more comfortable than my usual one, and there was a bedside lamp with just the right tone of light to make me feel at ease. And all that aside, I was happy just to have a room alone again. I'd been having to share at the foster home for a while now, which I hated more than almost anything else. So long as I could retreat into my thoughts and block out the world, craft a vivid fantasy to dwell in, things would be okay. But when I couldn't even do that...
Well, I don't want to go on a tangent.
What's important is that, for some reason, I couldn't sleep. A strange and placeless sorrow kept filling me, and a sense of anxiety, like I wasn't supposed to be here. Like something was wrong or broken . I tossed and turned under the sheets and watched the clock. 1 AM. 1:15 AM. 1:30 AM...
I started getting frustrated. What would I do if I couldn't sleep at all? If I was barely able to stay awake in the morning, or got sick? I didn't want to embarrass myself in front of Shiko and her family... And I didn't want to lose a whole Saturday like that, for such a stupid reason...
Eventually, when it was coming up to two, I decided that what I needed was just to calm down and get my mind on something else instead. I could feel the fatigue behind my eyes. I knew that if I could just bury this sense of unease beneath something pleasant, something I could escape into, then I'd be out in no time.
In retrospect, it was an uncharacteristically bold idea for me. I decided that I'd go down to the front room and attune to the logic bridge there and watch some of the late-night dramas I did when I was at home - that'd put me in the right state of mind for sure. For just a minute, I'd thought about going over to Shiko's room and waking her up instead, maybe watching a little more together. But I didn't want to get her in trouble. More importantly, I didn't want her to think of me as a bother...
It was strange. When we were physically in the same room and talking, I felt like we were equals and friends; that nothing I could say would or do would be truly inappropriate. But the minute that wasn't the case, I felt the weight of an insurmountable distance between us. Like our whole friendship was some ephemeral thing that could shatter at a single inappropriate touch.
Still. I can't help but wonder where my life would have gone, if I'd done that instead. If I'd gone and bothered her that one time.
Keeping as quiet as I could, I crept out of the guest room and down the stairs, not turning on any lights; the one thing about my old self that was better put-together in a physical sense was my eyesight, and I could see pretty well with only a tiny bit of light. In this case, the moonlight, stretched out as it was reflected on the ocean, more than sufficed.
I walked to the front room, a large chamber with the best view of the seaside in the entire house, and attuned to the logic bridge. Fortunately, her family kept it running overnight for some reason related to her mother's business; if they hadn't, the idea would have been a bust from the start. I pressed my small hand into the glassy surface, and through my mind, navigated to the programming section of the logic sea, flicking through the different feeds in search of one in particular...
Ahh, good. As I'd hoped, the drama that Shiko and I had been watching earlier was on again, going through some older episodes. This would be perfect. Comforting, but too stupid to get me overexcited.
I sat on the large silk sofa and began watching, the distant sound of the waves thrumming in the distance. However, I slowly started to feel awkward, and maybe a little worried. Sitting alone in this large room was lonely, and since I didn't have permission to be there, I was worried someone might walk in for a midnight snack and find me. What would I do then? What would I say?
Then, in what was starting to become a bit of a frog-boiling-in-water effect in terms of sensibility, I had another idea. In the corner of the room was a small-ish closet that I'd poked my head into before; the family used it for storing laundry that wasn't in use, like duvets and tablecloths. I wasn't very big, so I could fit into it snugly, and it was just about in attunement range for the logic bridge.
I crept over and opened the door. Sure enough, there was a pile of duvets stacked on the floor. This was perfect.
I closed the door behind me and, in the near-complete darkness, flopped down on to them. The real world and all its unpleasantness faded away, and only the over-the-top world of the drama remained. The mystery of the forsaken town, and the strange phenomena which came to haunt it every night. The curse of undying life placed on the protagonist, where every time he was slain he would rise again and again. The monsters. The unexplainable enigmas. The intrigue of a puzzle to be solved.
As janky as it was, the things I found beautiful shone through it.
I let it flow over me. I started to imagine that Shiko was still awake, and we were talking over it again. Making jokes. Laughing. Forming theories. My chest felt warm, and my mind started to relax...
Is it really okay to fall asleep here? Something in the logical part of my brain said. They'll find you later. Won't you get in trouble?
But I was already past thinking logically. Thoughts and dreams mingled, reality and unreality. I smiled to myself, pressed against the cloth...
...and then something happened, and I was suddenly awake again.
Footsteps. Approaching slowly from down the hall, thudding against the hard wood. Getting closer and closer.
I lurched, curling inward and keeping my body as still as possible. In truth, there wasn't much in the way of logical reasoning for my fear. From the front room, I'd have heard if there'd been a break-in, and accounting for the possibility of someone coming in was the main reason I'd gone in the closet to begin with. It was probably just someone from the family, either restless like me, or on the way to the kitchen.
They wouldn't check my hiding spot, and even if they had, I probably wouldn't have really got in trouble, looking back at it as an adult. In terms of transgressions, it was very much within the realm of Kids Doing Weird Kid Stuff.
All the same, I was scared witless. I tried desperately to control my breathing, stuffing my face against the cloth, and closed the link to the drama.
The footsteps came very close, then stopped. I heard something moderately heavy being set down on the floor, and someone taking a seat on the sofa. I couldn't quite hear their breathing well enough from behind the door to identify who it was. I thought to lean forward a bit--
But then, something suddenly flicked into my mind.
It's worth taking a moment to explain a bit about how logic bridges work. There's obviously no absolute rule - there never is, with machines - but generally, the way they work is that whenever you attune to one, you can see whoever else is also attuned to it if you want. However, unless you specifically set it to do so, it doesn't go out of its way to present this information to you. This is because logic bridges are generally set up for one of two purposes: Private use, where people tend to block anyone other than themselves from attunement anyway, and for communal use, where being explicitly told that someone else has dropped in to start watching whatever the rest of the group is watching is just an over-stimulating nuisance.
Whoever had stepped into the room and attuned to the bridge had evidently not thought to check if anyone else was there with them, and had set straight to work. Work that I could now see.
I saw them open a connection to the logic sea, and do something complicated that I couldn't understand, but as an adult I now recognize as using an encrypting protocol. I heard them move a bit outside, and then saw that they'd put an echo maze into the reader, and were now uploading some data.
Then, they made an outgoing connection. A few minutes passed while they waited for a response. I watched, completely paralyzed. It felt like I'd already crossed the threshold in terms of stepping out, making myself known, and apologizing; this felt like it could get me in a huge amount of trouble. No-- All I could do was sit here and hold my ground.
Whoever was outside waited. And waited.
And then...
Suddenly, a figure appeared. It was of an old man, though of the polar opposite appearance to Samium. He was wry, short-haired and clean shaven, with a soft but sharp face. He was dressed in a long, thin set of black and maroon robes.
"Sam," the man said, in a reserved but gently friendly tone. "I was worried you'd gone and fallen asleep on me."
"Sorry for getting here so late, █ █ █ █ █," Samium replied, his tone fairly somber compared to earlier. He wasn't speaking out loud, but I could hear the voice he was conjuring into the logic bridge. "The bridge in the room they gave me is conked out, so I had to wait until the rest of them had gone to bed, then use the one they have here in the living room."
It was a pretty stupid mistake, in retrospect. To go to that much trouble to be assured of privacy, even ignoring an offer to explicitly clear the room for you... Only to fall at the last hurdle.
Well, he was an old man, and it was late. Even intelligent people have their blind spots, I suppose.
The man snorted. "That doesn't surprise me. Tahazili has some good qualities, but she's never been the diligent type when it comes to housekeeping."
Samium chuckled. "Rather unlike you, to be so old-fashioned."
He scoffed. "I didn't mean it that way, obviously. You know I'm fussy about keeping things in decent shape when it comes to all stripes."
The older man shook his head at this, then looked back to him, speaking with warm concern that felt somehow surprising. "So. How are you feeling?"
The man tilted his head to the side. "Worried if my brain is turning to mush tonight?" He laughed gently. There was something coy and youthful about it, in spite of his appearance. "Don't worry. This is turning out to be a good week for me on that front. One must thank heaven for small blessings, I suppose..."
Samium nodded. "That's good to hear."
Who is this person...? I thought, confused.
"How are you finding Itan?" the man asked, echoing a question from earlier in the night.
"Gods, it's awful," Samium said, giving a surprisingly different answer. He shook his head. "It's just as you said. It's gone to the dogs since the Asphodeloi took control of the government. I saw people living on the streets, and there's an orphan staying with your granddaughter overnight who it looks like they've been starving to death." He chuckled darkly. "It's like something from a dystopian novel, but less quaint."
My ability to ponder any more questions about the situation was overwhelmed and shut down at this point. To this day, I'm not really sure what they were talking about, or I misheard or didn't properly absorb the conversation.
The man nodded, wearing a grim expression. "It can't be helped. They're probably hoping to manufacture more unrest." He sighed, his expression shifting slightly towards a more ambiguous, thoughtful one. "And how is Utsushikome?"
"She seems healthy enough," Samium said. "Mentally and physically healthy. I spoke with her teachers, and her grades are genuinely excellent. Kataoka hasn't been engaging in any tampering."
"I'm a little surprised to hear that," he said. "That girl always took a little too much after me."
I blinked.
This is... Shiko's grandfather?
"My prognosis is that she's a good candidate. Intelligent and open-minded, but not overly neurotic." He narrowed his eyes. "Though you've said as much yourself. And of course, the pneuma isolated within the star-key is completely stable." He paused for a moment; there was a gravity in his words that indicated the seriousness of the situation, even if I couldn't understand what that gravity was. "I think there'll be a good window on monday - her mother and grandmother will be working through the holiday, but she won't be at school. It shouldn't be too difficult to... Well, to get the drop on her."
What was disturbing was how his tone wasn't cold at all. He sounded a little uncomfortable saying it, like they were discussing something taboo, but it wasn't like a mask had been lifted from his face, revealing a more twisted one underneath. It was still just the same man.
I think it was at that moment that I began to understand how easy it really was to lie, and how impossible it is to ever be sure you know someone. How casually and easily people can hide the most terrible things beyond a completely normal face.
The other man was silent. He crossed his arms, looking towards the ground.
What... Is this...? I thought, slowly starting to get a sense of the situation.
Is he planning to do something to Shiko?
I felt my heart start to race. Strange things I'd never thought before started to rush through my head, like I was transforming into an entirely different animal. Should I listen in, then go straight to Shiko? No, she couldn't do anything. Her mother? What if she didn't believe me? What if Samium pushed whatever he was planning forward?
I clenched my fist. There was more than just duvets in this closet. There was some heavy stuff on the shelves, including an old, heavy kettle. I could wrap it up in a pillowcase and sneak up on him. He was absorbed by the conversation; he wouldn't anything coming.
I couldn't let anything happen to Shiko. Without her, I...
"█ █ █ █ █?" Samium asked, confused.
Another moment passed. My breath grew heavy.
But then...
"...Sam," the man finally said.
"Yes?" he replied earnestly.
He took a deep breath, and looked a little upwards, like he was regarding the sky. Then, he slowly closed his eyes.
"Sam," he said again. "You really are a true friend. The truest I've had, probably." He made a strange smile. "And I suppose I mean that in both the best and worst of ways."
Samium seemed surprised for a moment, then snorted, a little embarrassment audible in the words that eventually came. "I'm not even half the friend you've been to me," he said. "Still, though, I'm glad. For the good and bad parts both."
The other man was silent for a little while longer, opening his eyes but holding that same, gentle expression.
Samium hesitated, his expression flattening a bit, though with more of a nostalgic amusement than exasperation. "...you're about to tell me something I'll find irritating, aren't you?"
He broke from his calm look and snorted, glancing to the side. "Gods, you're almost as good at reading me as Noe."
"Spit it out, then," Samium told him.
The other man sighed. "...I'm sorry for having put you to so much inconvenience again, this last time," he spoke wistfully. "But I think I've decided it would be best not to go through with it."
I blinked.
...wait, huh?
𒊹
Inner Sanctum Underground | 2:40 PM | Third Day
Anna already seemed to already be anticipating what Linos was about to say, stepping towards him and the logic bridge with a curled lip. I had some idea of what was coming myself, and I didn't like it one bit.
"I just finished checking the overview of the sanctuary," he said, his tone very serious. "While there's nothing overtly obvious - no collapsed buildings or tunnels or anything like that - there... Does seem to be some degree of damage to the structural integrity, at least here and in the visitor's bioenslocure." He swallowed the air. "I haven't pinned down all the details yet, but some of the damage isn't far from here--"
Anna didn't let him finish. She pushed his chair to the side as she touched the thing herself, closing her eyes.
"If... It's only minor damage, it should be okay, right?" Ptolema said anxiously.
No one spoke up to correct her, but it was self-evident that things weren't that simple. It looked like everyone in the room was holding their breath at once. In the corner of my eye, I saw Seth mouth most of the sentence 'we're so fucking dead' but quickly cut himself off when he realized I was looking.
Finally, Anna sighed deeply. Then, she strode back downstairs, lifted her scepter, and spoke some Divination incantations - I recognized one as a derivative of the Matter-Mapping Arcana, which was also the basis for a lot of diagnostic techniques. Then she fell silent, slowly tapping her foot against the floor rhythmically.
"What has happened?" Mehit asked from the top of the stairs, her tone tense-- As if it ever wasn't.
Anna didn't reply, facing the wall.
"Your ladyship," Kamrusepa interjected herself, her voice with an almost threatening edge to it.
From the side of her bunk, Ophelia glanced at her, then at Seth and Ptolema, with an uncomfortable, anxious look.
Anna grunted, then spoke slowly, the words carrying a labored calm that they normally didn't. "There is damage to the stonework that intersects with the runes," she said.
"D-Damage?" Theodoros asked, his face paling. Behind him, Linos took a deep, deep breath. "You mean--"
"It is not severe," she said. "Despite the idiotic architecture of this place, the sub-structure held relatively well; it's mostly intermittent micro-fissures, except for a relatively small area near the other side of the building." She narrowed her eyes. "However, as I'm sure you know, runework is delicate, and the engravings I created here are both complex and economically structured. There was a great deal I was expected to accomplish here. As a result, there are few redundancies."
Oh, gods.
This was it. This was when we learned there was no escape, and that we were doomed. I couldn't even say that I'd had a good run; it'd mostly been a complete disaster.
"What's broken?" Ezekiel asked darkly.
"Several systems have become disconnected from one another, from the administrative core, or from here," she said. "Most are inconsequential and minor - concerned with supplying power for one domestic or auxiliary purpose or another - or may even be to our advantage. Though I am uncertain if it will cause a backlash at the announted hour, the gravity regulation mechanism has become severed from the administrative center, and will likely remain as static this bioenclosure regardless of what commands are sent from the core. I believe the gas-based defenses may also have been impeded."
"My dad always used to say," Seth spoke, "that when you've gotta give a patient bad news, you should always try to find something good first."
"Let's let her take her time, master Ikkuret," Linos said carefully.
Seth looked like hell. Well, he'd already looked like hell, but now the muted relief acrosss his scarred features had given way to an exhausted dread. He came across as a man on the brink.
Fang, as usual, seemed less bothered. They stared into space, almost wearing an expression of amusement.
Anna narrowed her eyes. "...this facility," she said, "has been severed from the artificed intelligence chamber."
For a moment, there was an atmosphere of utter despair in the room. Seth dropped his head into his hands. Mehit's features tightened harshly, and her head slid back out of view. Several people looked as though they might burst into tears, probably including me.
"But as I said," Anna quickly interjected. "The damage is minor. A tiny disruption that has not damaged the runework in any meaningful sense, but will only interrupt the progress of the incantation. It could be easily repaired in only a few hours."
"We do not have a few hours," Kamrusepa stated bluntly. "It's only an hour now until the system starts turning off our life support, and that's if we can believe that what they've told us they have planned is all that will actually happen!"
"S-She's right," I said. "It doesn't matter how minor the damage is. If we pass four in the afternoon..."
We couldn't take the message at its word. Even if they'd been 'truthful' in a vague regard about the culprit's intention for us in the past, that could easily just have been setting us up for a later fall.
"Oh god. Oh god..." Ptolema said, gripping the sides of her head with rigid arms. "What are we gonna do?"
"Don't-- Don't despair yet, miss Rheeds," Linos said, though his heart wasn't exactly in it. "We still have our scepters. We can survive without air for a time, if needs must."
"We're almost outta eris!" She declared. "And what if it's harder to fix than it looks? Wh-- What if something else goes wrong, and there's no time left?" Her arms tightened further. "And, and--"
"Easy, Ema," Seth said, holding up a hand. "It's gonna be okay--"
"It's not gonna be okay!" She nearly shouted. "I don't wanna die in this creepy bubble!"
Seth took a deep breath, clenching his fist. The atmosphere in the room grew even more dire, and I found myself shaking softly. From the top of the stairs, I thought I heard a faint wheezing sound.
Was that Lilith... Laughing?
Anna looked towards the floor, closing her eyes for a moment.
"Miss Amtu," Kamrusepa spoke, insistently. Implicitly demanding a solution.
"I am thinking," Anna said, through gritted teeth. She exhaled sharply. "As I said. The damage is minor. Even if we cannot make the repairs, there should be a way to continue with the plan on schedule."
"What sort of way?" Mehit asked.
"We will need to take a risk," Anna said.
As things turned out, this was quite an understatement.