Edgar Aeternum, Book 1: Tales of Aeternal Love

by Jay Belle Isle

  He found a seat near the rear of the car, the only space with at least one empty row between him and the next. Someone on the magna, he'd noticed upon boarding, seriously needed to become acquainted with soap and water. Edgar appreciated the power of scent, even that of a man post-workout, but the musky funk on this magna was not of the appealing variety.

  Fortunately, it was stronger near the front of the car and he was able to ignore the small trace that made it to the car's rear. He spent the fifteen minute jaunt trying to pinpoint the olfactory offender; he had it narrowed down to three people: a ragged-looking teen boy, a thirty-something man in gym gear, and a middle-aged woman wearing a clown-like amount of rouge.

  The magna came to a halt at Grammercy Station, one of the downtown stops. Edgar rose to disembark along with two others, neither of whom was the possible offender. As he passed each one, he took in a deep breath through his nose. It wasn't the woman; she smelled like lilacs. It wasn't the teen, either; his scent was a mix of weed and patchouli. Edgar felt a momentary twinge of arousal, though the boy was far too young for his tastes. That twinge lasted only briefly; as he passed Mr. Gymclothes, he had to put his hand over his mouth and nose after inhaling to keep himself from visibly gagging. The man seemed to be oblivious to the fact that he smelled like a wheel of camembert left out in the July sun.

  At that exact moment, the passenger exiting in front of him dropped his bag and a handful of grocery items spilled into the aisle. The man turned around quickly, looking stricken, and apologized before bending over to retrieve his errant foodstuffs.

  Oh Christ on a drainpipe! Are you fucking serious? I cannot believe this shit luck!

  Then Edgar looked at where the poor man's face was as he picked up his groceries. He immediately thanked his lucky stars and felt bad for the man. Edgar was standing just behind Mr. Gymclothes; Grocery Man's nose, on the other hand, was crotch-level with the stench. The man finally retrieved his items and hastily disembarked, followed closely by Edgar. The first thing Edgar did upon reaching fresh air was to take several deep breaths of it. Grocery Man wasn't quite so lucky. The first thing he did was run to the nearest garbage can, drop his bag, and vomit loudly and violently into the can.

  Edgar watched, surprised. When the man's spasms subsided, he approached to see if he could assist. "You okay, buddy?"

  The man turned around, embarrassed. "Sorry," he said, "I couldn't help it. He... Oh fuck!" The man hit the trash can again. A moment later he finished. "That was the worst smell... I can't even..." he trailed off, shaking his head.

  "I hear you," Edgar responded sympathetically. "I thought I had it bad. Then I noticed where your head was, you poor guy. You gonna be alright?"

  "Oh yeah, I'll be fine," he said. "Thanks for asking. I live just around the corner so I'll be home and," he paused, trying to find the right word, "cleaned up soon. If I wasn't already about to vomit, I'd have told his dumb ass to take a fucking shower before he left the gym!"

  "I couldn't agree more!" Edgar said. "If we hadn't made it out when we did, we'd have needed to share that can!"

  "Ha!" the man barked. "I understand. Hey listen, no offense, but I really need to get going. I need a drink of anything so badly I can't describe it!"

  "No worries," Edgar said, flashing a grin. "I hope the rest of your evening is vastly better!"

  "Trust me, barring sudden death, it will be!" the man said, smiled and walked away.

  Edgar took a few more minutes to enjoy the fresh air before he continued on to Maxi's. He walked in just after ten, pausing to adjust to the dimmer lights and loud music. The club was hopping tonight; most of the booths surrounding the busy dance floor were full. The music wasn't half bad tonight, good base, synth in the mid-upper range; decent dance music for the 2-4. Much of modern music left Edgar wanting, some of it to the point he'd prefer silence. Jace was probably here by now; the man was pathologically punctual. Edgar began a booth walk to his right, scanning the seats for Jace as he traveled the perimeter.

  He was almost halfway back to the front door, on the left side of the "U," when he saw Jace. The man was already nursing a beer and he stood to greet his friend. "Edgar, man! Do you ever do anything but sleep and fuck?" Jace's usual ballbusting seemed a bit strained. "How are ya?" he practically hollered to be heard above the music.

  Edgar gave his friend a brotherly hug in greeting and waited until they settled into the booth before answering. The interior of the booth was shielded by a sound-damping field; the difference in volume was day and night. "I'm good," Edgar said in a normal voice. He pushed the signal button to place a drink order. "How are you? You look like you've had," he paused, "a rough night."

  "I'm managing," Jace answered. Managing was not very Jace; the man was upbeat and optimistic to just shy of being annoying.

  "C'mon, spill it!" Edgar said. The waitress arrived and leaned into the booth. Once she was surrounded by the damping field, Edgar greeted her and ordered a beer for himself and another vodka tonic for Jace. The waitress smiled and said she'd be right back with their drinks. "So...?" Edgar prompted.

  "Anice's news was grande, my friend. She's engaged." Jace's voice paused, not a good sign. "To a Thraxian. She's happy as hell, but our folks... Edgar, a Thraxian! They're gonna shit! Anice is totally freaking out about telling them. Our Dads will eventually get over it, but Mom is gonna go nova! She wants me there for moral support when she tells them.

  Man, I am twenty-nine years old and it's not my engagement, but I would rather take a punch to the balls than be in the same room for this conversation! So yeah, drinks tonight is exactly what I needed. We're taking a shuttle tomorrow morning. A Thraxian, Edgar! Fuck!" Jace looked dumbfounded.

  Edgar flopped back in the booth, shocked. Not so much by the interspecies relationship as by the fact that Anice chose a Thraxian. He'd long ago overcome any judgmental thoughts toward different races, both human and alien, that managed to survive his hippy-ish upbringing. He shook his head and smiled, not envying Jace, but almost wishing he could be a fly on the wall for that conversation.

  "Anice and a Thraxian," Edgar said. "I just can't believe it! She's such a strong woman and Thraxian's are known for their opinion of all females as second-class citizens. Thraxian women aren't allowed to work, can't vote, dare not ever contradict their husbands – or any male, for that matter – in public. I just can't get my head around how Anice fell in love with a Thraxian. Granted, they're among the most beautiful people in the known worlds, but still…"

  Such backward attitudes toward women and a whole lot more. Male homosexuality, for instance; they can't tolerate the idea of men loving and fucking each other. They're taught from a young age that it's the biggest offense possible. If a male child identifies as homosexual and lets it be known, or if an adult gets found out, they're expected to kill themselves. And if they don't do it, their fathers or other male relatives will gladly do it for them.

  They're a bit more relaxed when it comes to offworld men. Mainly because they don't feel they have a right to force a non-Thraxian male to commit suicide for liking dick. Those Thraxian men who manage to survive skulk around like human homosexuals did in the 1940s on Earth. Or, if they're smart, they leave Thraxus. That is a shame of another sort, unless their chosen career happens to be offworld transport. And some humans used to think that all male flight attendants were gay; they'd shit if they knew about Thraxian spacers.

  It's a totally repressive, fucked-up culture, in my book. But, the world doesn't live by my book and it's not my place to be judge of all. I'll leave that to those on Genesis. And the Thraxians themselves, of course. It's good that Anice is bisexual, though. While they'll kill a dude for it, Thraxian men just love watching two women get off on each other. The wife's consent is irrelevant, depending on the husband. Anice, child, what have you got yourself into?

  Don't get me wrong; there are a million things right about Thraxus. Art, science, music, literature, medicine… all of it a thousand times more advanced than the ne
xt closest comparison. It just amazes me that they never got over the misogynist bit. It's not even a religious thing. Thraxians laughed at the concept of god before humans ever walked erect. It's a deeply-held philosophical deal.

  I've tried more than a few times to understand it, but I've known too many kick-ass women to buy into it. It's kinda like how people used to train elephants: Put a chain on the baby's ankle so damn heavy the poor little shit can barely move and by the time it's an adult – capable of squashing your sorry ass – a lightweight rope is all it takes to restrain it. The elephant could snap the rope in a heartbeat, but it doesn't believe it can; so it never does. Thraxian men are in for a world of hurt if Thraxian women ever figure it out! Serves 'em right, too.

  "I know!" Jace said, exasperated. His outburst brought Edgar out of his surprised reverie. "I have no idea what the hell she was thinking. Do you know what her life is going to be like, Edgar?" The pain in Jace's voice showed his deep concern for Anice's well-being rather than anti-Thraxian prejudice.

  "Yes, actually, I do," Edgar said, shaking his head. "Are you certain this is her choice and that she's not being coerced? I know love can make us all stupid sometimes, but Thraxian men are known for being good lovers and persuasive debaters."

  "No, I'm sure it's all free will," Jace answered. "Not that Anice couldn't be persuaded, but she told me how they met and fell in love. He's here studying, ahem, 'primitive' art; they met at a gallery showing two months ago. They left after the show and spent the night at an all-night cafe, drinking coffee and talking art. She said they only just slept together two weeks ago; 'It's a meeting of the minds, hermano, not the loins,' she tells me."

  Edgar worked hard to stifle a laugh at Jace's spot-on impression of Anice; he even nailed the haughty tone. Jace caught the look in Edgar's eyes though, and burst out laughing himself. Surprised, Edgar joined him and the two laughed like fools, stopping only to thank the waitress as she delivered their drinks.

  "Gracias, amigo, I needed that," said Jace, wiping tears from his eyes. "Ahhh... I can always count on you for a good ear and a strong shoulder." Jace took a sip of the cocktail, eyes widening, "And strong drinks! What did you do, have her dump half the bottle in?"

  Edgar chuckled, "You sat right there when I ordered you a double! You looked like you could use it."

  "True that, but a little warning next time, eh?" Jace's smile and wink told Edgar his friend was only joking.

  "Well, as hard as it might be, Jace, if she's really in love..." Edgar left the sentence hanging.

  "I know, I know," Jace said. "It is hard, though. Yeah, she can be a royal pain in the ass, but she's still my sister. I asked her what she knew about Thraxian culture and she rattled off some things even I didn't know. Like, for instance, did you know Thraxian men sometimes insist on their wives having sex with other women of the husband's choosing solely for his pleasure?" Jace shook his head in disbelief.

  "As a matter of fact, I did know that," Edgar said. "I know Anice's bi, but I'd have thought that particular piece of knowledge would be a deal breaker. That - and no offense - that females aren't permitted to contradict or question their husband or any other male."

  "Don't think I didn't bring that one up," laughed Jace. "I have the bruise to prove it," he patted his left shoulder. "She may be tiny, but she's got a helluva roundhouse right!"

  "And?" Edgar questioned.

  "Didn't slow her down in the least," was Jace's answer.

  "Please, please, please tell me she is not playing the 'my love can change him' song! She can't be that stupid, Jace!"

  "Nope, not even close. That's the kicker, Edgar! Every logical argument I give her as to why this is a bad idea, she meets with an equally logical defense. No stupid bullshit movie ideas like that one, just good, solid, logical reasons why this is a good marriage."

  "That's the problem," Edgar said. "You're fighting emotions with logic. That's a fight you can never win, buddy," he said. He waited a moment, then asked, "Who proposed?"

  "Huh?" Jace said. "What does it matter?"

  "You're thinking like a human," Edgar reminded him.

  "Well, yeah!" Jace responded. "What the hell else would I be thinking like, a fish? How many of those," he gestured at Edgar's half-empty beer, "did you have before you got here? Or are you just high?" Edgar knew it was all in good fun; he and Jace had been through enough to be able to tease each other like brothers.

  "Three and no. Like a Thraxian!" Edgar quipped. "I ask again: Who proposed to whom?"

  "And I say again, what does it matter?" Jace answered.

  Edgar shook his head. "I should be asking you how much you had to drink before I got here," he laughed. "Look, in human society, things like 'the man must propose' went out hundreds of years ago. But, as you already know, Thraxian society is not human society. Now answer the damn question before I kick you in the shin."

  "Try it! I may be shorter than you, but I can still kick your ass!" Jace was smiling. "Okay, okay, I'll answer. She did. You know Anice, if she wants it, she's gonna go after it! Now tell me what difference it makes."

  "Well," Edgar drew out the word. "For one thing, traditional Thraxian men would never accept a proposal from a female, even if it was one they wanted. It's just not done. I'm assuming he said 'yes' since you said they're going through with the wedding?"

  "Yeah, he did," Jace replied, all serious and listening intently.

  "He's obviously not a Thraxian traditionalist, then. Unless, of course, he re-proposed?" Edgar asked.

  "No, she said he was overjoyed, accepted and then they started making wedding plans," Jace said. "Is this good?"

  "Hmmm... I'd say it looks like it might be good, Jace." Edgar replied. "A Thraxian traditionalist would either have rejected the proposal or, if he really wanted the woman, re-proposed. You may not know, but what does he do for a living?"

  "Actually, I do know. Anice was very specific," Jace said. "You should know that!"

  Edgar laughed. "You're right, I should. Maybe I have had one too many!" The friends laughed for a bit before Jace continued.

  "He's an art historian. He's here on 'extended study', she told me," Jace said. "They're even having the wedding on Earth, so he doesn't have to lose any time from his studies due to travel."

  Edgar stopped smiling and said, "He's also full of shit, Jace. Either that or he's afraid to tell her the truth. Either way, I call bullshit."

  "What do you mean?" Jace asked, suddenly more concerned than before.

  "Simple," Edgar answered. "First off, only Thraxian diplomats come to Earth, or any other world, for extended periods of time. Every other world is considered beneath them. They're an almost xenophobic race. The only other Thraxian men who routinely leave the planet work as spacers and most self-identify as homo, which is discouraged on the home world. In fact, it's a death sentence. Next, no Thraxian would ever consent to an offworld wedding, even if he had no living family. The ceremony is sacred to them, not in a religious way, but as an important piece of their culture." Edgar paused to take a drink.

  "Go on," urged Jace.

  "Sure," Edgar said. "Thraxian wedding ceremonies last for three days and require Thraxian soil as part of their symbolism. A huge part of their symbolism. As well as fresh hissos, a flower that cannot be grown anywhere else and whose blooms last only twenty-four hours after cutting. Finally," he smiled, "Thraxian weddings can only be performed by a tel-r'hiksis, a Thraxian priest, sort of; they don't have a faith, per se, but their important ceremonies are always officiated by such a person. Here's the thing: Like I said, Thraxians are not, by nature, offworld travelers. However, the one class of Thraxian who never, in any history I've ever read anyway, leaves the home world is the tel-r'hiksis. Without one, a Thraxian male can't be wed."

  "But, but," Jace stammered, "I don't understand. What are you saying? Maybe I've had too much to drink!"

  "Not at all, man," Edgar said with a smile. "You know how I like history and cultural studies; this shit's easy for me.
What it means is that Anice's fiancé is either not a traditionalist or he's not being honest. There's a small movement, largely discouraged by the government, of those who are infatuated with Earth. Specifically, the freedoms we enjoy here. Despite the fact that it's the oldest known culture, some young Thraxians are getting tired of what they see as repression. He's obviously one of the new thinkers; he knows, and doesn't care, that most Thraxians won't recognize this wedding or this marriage.

  In addition, he's lying about his reasons for not going to the home world for the ceremony. He's not going because, in order to do so, he'd have to reveal the details of the relationship; this is something he cannot do. His family, his culture, won't accept any of this; they would shun him completely. The two things that come immediately to mind are that Anice is likely going to be just fine; the new thinkers are surprisingly human in their thoughts, however, I'd suggest never pointing that out. The second thing is that, for some reason, he's not being honest with Anice about it.

  My suggestion? Explain this to her just as I did to you. Ask her what he's told her and forget for a moment about traditional Thraxian behavior. Then, tell her to ask him about it. I'm guessing he's afraid; a Thraxian without access to the home world is, literally, lost. When it comes to light back home that he's abandoned tradition, he will be dead to all but those who feel the same. And, if he should ever go back, his male relatives may take that stance a bit further and actually kill him. She should still ask, though; he may have other reasons. Either way, lies are a poor foundation upon which to build a marriage." Edgar felt a twinge of guilt, given his own personal experience in such areas.

  Jace sat in stunned silence. "Damn, I'm glad that you're so into all that history crap!" he finally said, smiling. It was an inside joke, as history, specifically of his family and culture, was very important to Jace.

  Edgar laughed, recognizing the joke and returning it with another. "Well, I met a Thraxian spacer once and you wanna talk between orgasms!" The joke had its desired effect and Jace dissolved in laughter, Edgar joining him. Finally, they stopped, and Edgar asked, "Another round? On me," he added.