Penumbra

by Dan Ackerman

  “Is he an actor?”

  Arden almost laughed, then felt awful when he remembered those films they’d shown during the trial. “Oggie’s whatever he wants to be.”

  “You should have told me,” Mira said, “That you didn’t go for women, by the way. Waste of jessa. Got everyone’s hopes up.”

  “I don’t think it was a waste,” Holly chimed.

  Mira scowled at Holly.

  Arden looked at Oggie again. He didn’t think it was a waste either.

  Oggie caught him looking. “What?”

  Arden scooted closer to him and leaned against him. “Be my Entertainment Minister.”

  “Arden, I already said I don’t want to make propaganda.”

  “Then don’t make propaganda. Take over the Media Department. Do whatever you want with it.”

  Oggie looked back at the movie. “I said no.”

  Arden nudged him. “Why not?”

  “I’m not qualified, for one.”

  “Neither is Frakes.”

  Oggie gave him a sharp look.

  “Most people aren’t. I didn’t get my job based on qualifications. And unless the qualification to be a bartender is day-drinking, neither did you. You’re either quasi-randomly assigned to a work crew or you inherit a position.”

  “Fucking excuse you, I make excellent drinks.”

  “And you were good at PT, too, weren’t you?” Arden asked.

  “Yes…”

  “Good reports, except for the missing supplies and workplace affairs. ‘Picks up things quickly.’ You get that comment a lot. ‘Sharp’, ‘quick’, ‘detail-oriented’. Those are in a lot of your reviews.”

  Oggie frowned at him. “You went through my reports?”

  “Oh, like you wouldn’t have?” Arden asked. “And ‘pretends not to work all day.’ That came up a couple times.”

  Oggie continued to frown and narrowed his eyes. “What’s your point?”

  “There are no more peers, and no more thralls, and if that power structure is to change in a meaningful way, then emancipated workers are going to need to take powerful positions. I’d like those positions to go to competent people with the ability to learn quickly on the job.”

  “Absolutely not. I have no intention of working, not if I’m going to be sleeping with you,” Oggie declared.

  Arden didn’t protest. He turned his eyes back to the movie.

  When it finished, they packed up everything and started to head back toward the shuttle.

  Kineth advised, “You shouldn’t leave camp right now.”

  “Why not?”

  “Never know what’s out in the dark.”

  Arden looked to the horizon and couldn’t see the shuttle.

  “Bring a light, people see you’re alone. Go without light, you get lost, fall down a hole…” she trailed off and shrugged.

  “I’ve got room,” Holly offered.

  As they walked back, she nudged Arden and said, “And I’m a heavy sleeper, so don’t worry about waking me up.”

  Arden forced a smile. Though he considered himself by no means sexually repressed, he disliked that other people had witnessed something so personal. Part of him liked the public declaration of his feelings for Oggie, to bring something that made him so happy out of the shadows.

  They’d kept themselves cloistered too long, but a smoky, dark orgy was not how he’d imagined declaring his intentions.

  Not too salacious, either, as far as orgies went. As far as Arden knew. He’d imagined them differently.

  He and Oggie both lay away for a while at night.

  He knew Oggie was awake because he hadn’t started snoring.

  Oggie had the pleasantest snores Arden had encountered. Little huffy wheezes that sometimes turned into snorts if he rolled on his back.

  He rolled over on his cot. “Og.”

  Oggie ignored him.

  “Oggie,” he said.

  “Hm?”

  “Would you ever have said anything?”

  “About what, Arden?”

  Arden wanted to be closer to him. He scooted to the edge of his cot. “About, uh. About how you felt.”

  Oggie rolled over. “No.”

  Arden could barely seem him and just caught the glint of his eyes. “Oh.”

  “Would you have ever said anything?”

  Arden folded his arm under his head. “I didn’t think you’d have wanted me to.”

  “No?”

  “You made it pretty clear that people used you and went after you for your looks. I didn’t want to do that.”

  “There’s a big difference between using someone and pursuing a relationship.”

  Arden admitted, “I’m sure there is, but when you own everything, the lines of consent get blurry.”

  “Rhys like to remind you of that?”

  “He’s not wrong.”

  “No,” Oggie agreed. “He’s not wrong. But this isn’t how I imagined us. I imagined, probably, what Rhys imagines when he reminds you about consent.”

  “And that’s that?”

  “That you’d fuck me some night, get tired of me a few weeks later, kick me out a few weeks after that.”

  “Awful.”

  “What did you imagine, then?”

  Arden let out a breath. “I didn’t. I did my best not to think about how desperately I wanted you to be my friend, let alone more than my friend.”

  “But you did think about it,” Oggie pointed out.

  “How could I not? You were gorgeous and basically naked all the time and you’d…You were playing around but you were flirting and, just, half-dressed and just…”

  “Just what?”

  “So hard to beat at board games!”

  Oggie grinned so broadly Arden saw it even in the low light of the tent. “I had to play myself most of the time growing up. It makes you sort of good at it.”

  “I would have been your friend forever and that would be just as good, Og, if you change your mind.”

  “Yes, alright, but I am sort of wildly in love with you and hideously stunned that there’s any chance you might have feelings for me, too.”

  Arden rolled off the cot and crossed the foot and half to Oggie on his knees. He threw his arms around him and snuggled his cheek up against his neck. He squeezed him and kissed his jaw.

  Oggie went rigid, then relaxed. He curled up against Arden, then hauled Arden onto his cot, even though there wasn’t room for two people.

  Arden didn’t sleep soundly through the night, but he and Oggie didn’t talk anymore either. They lay there, though, quiet and relaxed.

  Arden, with extreme care, had moved the shuttle closer to the tents, so they wouldn’t have to sleep in Holly’s tent anymore if they stayed too late.

  Plus, the bed behind the cockpit had more space for them to share.

  They’d spent a little more than a week among the Terrans. All the adults had infinite questions about Eden. Some of them didn’t even believe it existed.

  He did what he could to provide proof and assurance of a better life.

  The Terrans who considered leaving a possibility concerned themselves with the impact their departure would have on the others, as well as on themselves. If too many people left, it would compromise the safety of those left behind.

  Arden sat in the shade of a layered canopy of gauzy sheets and watched someone climb the radio tower.

  At least twice a day, someone nimble shimmied up the tower, checked in all directions, and declared the area still safe. As far as he’d seen, that was all they used it for. Part of him wanted to give it a try, but he also valued his life and dignity.

  He wondered what they had thought while watching the shuttle approach. Too fast to pack up and move, too fast to even flee.

  Nothing to do but watch and hope the shuttle didn’t bring something awful for them all. No wonder people had stood there like that, watching them walk over.

  Three young children and two youths sat with Arden beneath the canopy.
The youngest children stayed in the camp under the watchful eye of older women or those who couldn’t disperse throughout the landscape to find food, water, or other resources.

  One of the youths had a twisted leg that stopped him from going too far from the camp. The other, a quick-eyed, nervous girl, knew the position of every child in the camp but seemed much too rigid and routine-oriented to wander through the grasslands with ease.

  Arden wondered how they both did when the camp changed locations.

  He more than wondered, he sort of worried. He imagined the girl’s panic, the boy lagging behind. He hoped someone walked with him.

  The three children flicked through pictures on Arden’s tablet.

  They talked more to each other than with Arden. Sometimes they’d toss him a question, but mostly they ran through wild speculations about Eden.

  “Is that you?” a little girl asked.

  Arden looked at the picture. Him, a dozen years ago, with shorter hair, dressed up for a special occasion.

  His inauguration.

  He looked awful. Gaunt and pinched, with bags under his eyes even makeup couldn’t conceal.

  “That’s me.” He took the tablet and stared down at the old picture.

  He looked ill. He’d sobbed for hours before the ceremony. Hadn’t eaten in days, except when people had watched him, and only the tiniest, slowest bites. He’d barely eaten then, and he’d taken far too many formulas. Enough that a doctor had given him a few dire warnings and sent him to therapy.

  The little girl who’d held the tablet crawled uninvited onto his lap to get a better look. “Why do you wear such ugly clothes?” she asked.

  He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t mind the question or her intrusion into his personal space, but he didn’t know how to handle them. No one on Eden treated him like this.

  “I don’t usually dress up that much,” he provided.

  A lot of people here didn’t like his clothes. Too tight, too heavy, too dark. They didn’t like the shine or glimmer, either. They said it made him too easy to see and too easily overheated.

  “Don’t you get too hot?” she asked.

  “It’s cold on Eden.”

  He’d traded water and food for clothes more suited to the environment. He didn’t look too out of place in them.

  Oggie looked like a glorious savannah prince in these loose, pale clothes, his hair glowing in the sun, his skin bronzing easily beneath its rays.

  Right now, about seven women of various ages, recently returned from foraging, had circled around him.

  Oggie had gone out with the women and they’d come back laughing.

  The girl asked, “How cold?”

  “Colder than it gets at night,” he answered, not sure what frame of reference she’d have. He placed his hands on the back of her neck. “Colder than that.”

  She yelped at the coldness of his touch and squirmed away, though she smiled while she did it. She grabbed his fingers. “Are you dead?”

  He made a face and hoped he misunderstood her question. The blurred drawl of the Terrans still tripped him up sometimes. In a hundred years, it would border on its own language.

  “Mammy says dead people go cold. Gran wasn’t that cold when we found her.”

  “Not dead yet.”

  She returned her attention to the tablet.

  The women around Oggie used their scarves to cover their mouths and giggled at almost everything he said. They played with their hair and batted their eyelashes. They showed off what they’d found to him and found every excuse to touch him.

  It was like watching a nature documentary.

  Oggie had lots of offers to stay somewhere other than the shuttle.

  They’d reached the hottest part of the day, which meant everyone trickled back to camp for a small meal and to take shelter. They would reemerge for the cooler, dimmer hours of the evening.

  Mothers started to call their children.

  Arden lost most of his company.

  The youth with the twisted leg, Arden thought his name was Gideon, must have seen Arden watching Oggie and his suitors, because he said, “Mari says one father with too many women might be dangerous. Makes too many half-siblings.”

  “Sound thinking.”

  Oggie must have felt their stares because he turned and waved to Arden.

  Arden waved back.

  “You’re the king in space, right?” Gideon asked.

  Arden didn’t nitpick, just nodded. “Sure am.”

  Gideon looked at Oggie again. “So up there you can have anyone you want?”

  “That’s sort of an ethics, thing, though, isn’t it?” Arden said.

  “A what?”

  “Ethics. It’s a…A philosophy of moral behavior. You know, right and wrong.”

  “Oh.”

  “Like, just because I’m in charge doesn’t mean I should make people do things.”

  Gideon asked, “But that’s the point of being in charge, isn’t it?”

  “I mean, for personal gain.”

  The point seemed lost on the youth.

  Arden didn’t press the conversation.

  Oggie beckoned Arden over.

  Arden went with little desire to do so.

  The women saw him as competition for Oggie, which he understood. None of them had done much to indicate they considered Arden a potential mate. Somehow, without asking either of them, the Terrans had decided Oggie would go for men and women, and that Arden’s interests rested exclusively with men.

  It sort of rankled him.

  Many of them also thought his story about Eden was an elaborate kidnapping ruse.

  He didn’t know why they didn’t suspect Oggie was in on it.

  “Sugar, Farah was telling me the most interesting story about…what was it?”

  Farah said, “How I escaped a cult,” in a flat voice. She scowled subtly at Arden when Oggie wasn’t looking.

  “No, tell him what kind of cult,” Oggie insisted lightly.

  “They worshiped beetles. The leader carried a big one around in a little woven basket all day long.”

  “Oh. Uh.”

  “We had to do whatever the beetle said, or they’d tie you out for the skin beetles to eat.”

  Arden’s eyes widened.

  “They didn’t tie me tight enough,” Farah said with a shrug.

  “Isn’t that so interesting?” Oggie asked.

  “Fascinating,” Arden agreed.

  Oggie glanced up at the sky. “Let’s get you out of the sun, shug, before you boil.” He put a hand on Arden’s shoulder and steered him toward the shuttle. He absently rubbed the back of his fingers against the fabric of Arden’s shirt. “I could use a nap!”

  “Long walk?”

  “Mmm. You should have come.”

  “No. They invited you out because they’re courting you. I’m not exactly welcome.”

  Oggie stepped into the shuttle and glanced back at Arden. “You don’t mind them courting me?”

  Arden stepped inside. “It’s not for me to say.”

  Oggie artfully collapsed into the pilot’s seat. “So, you wouldn’t care if I slept with one of them? Or all of them?”

  Arden tried to tread carefully, saying, “I don’t think expecting you to be exclusive would end anywhere good.”

  “Expecting me?” Oggie asked.

  Arden fidgeted. He’d put his foot in it. “Well. You like to have fun.”

  Oggie pulled in on himself.

  “What?” Arden asked nervously.

  He shrugged. “I knew it.”

  “Knew what, Og?”

  “That you thought of me like that.”

  Arden approached and knelt by the seat. He put a hand on Oggie’s thigh. “I don’t…I don’t want us to get ahead of ourselves. I love you, but…”

  “But you don’t think it will go anywhere,” Oggie supplied sullenly.

  “Mostly I’m scared that I’ll ask you for too much, or something you’re not comfortable with.”


  “You think I wouldn’t be comfortable sleeping with just one person?”

  Arden held in a sigh. “I think you’re a person who doesn’t like rules, or being told what to do, or being expected at home. And if that’s not how you are, then I’m not sure who I’ve been living with.”

  Oggie wrinkled his nose. When he stood and walked away, he looked more hurt than offended.

  Arden thought, then followed. He caught Oggie in his arms.

  “No, Arden, I’m not in the mood for you right now.”

  “Okay, can I say one thing?”

  “No.”

  Arden let go.

  Oggie turned to face him, arms crossed. “Well?”

  “You said no.”

  “For fuck’s sake.”

  “If you honestly and definitely want us to stop seeing other people—”

  “What other people have you been seeing?” Oggie scoffed.

  “Don’t be rude!” Oggie’s expression grew petulant and Arden immediately scolded, “Don’t. Stop. Get that look off your face. If you want to be exclusive, fine.”

  “No, it’s not…I’m just mad you think I wouldn’t want to be.”

  “Do you want to be?”

  “I don’t know!” Oggie even stomped his foot.

  Arden tried to hold back a smile.

  Quieter, more sad than pouty, Oggie asked, “You really think I can’t be exclusive?”

  Arden saw things a little better now. “Why’s it matter what I think?”

  “It doesn’t.”

  “You’re ridiculous.”

  “It isn’t ridiculous to want to be treated like I’m respectable for once.”

  “I respect you.”

  Oggie shook his head. “No one does.”

  “I do!” Arden insisted. He brought Oggie in for a hug. “Have I made you think I don’t?”

  Oggie didn’t answer. He sighed and relaxed against Arden.

  “I respect you, Oggie. I’d respect you if you slept with a thousand people. I’d respect you if you came home with a different person every night.”

  “Oh, I don’t bring my lays home. Sex is strictly on locale, or maybe at someone else’s place.”

  “On locale?”

  “Where I met them,” Oggie clarified.

  “Then who were those people you brought home?”

  Oggie shifted. “Just a few people who needed something.”