Edgar Aeternum, Book 1: Tales of Aeternal Love

by Jay Belle Isle

  They didn't seem to notice they had an audience or gave no indication of it if they did. They took the twin theme to the extreme; both had matching spikey black hair and each wore identical cobalt blue singlets. Edgar chuckled when he noticed that both even dressed left, the substantial bulges nothing if not eye-catching.

  Their next move dropped Edgar's jaw and he stood staring. Twin A jumped from a standing position a foot in front of Twin B, landing perfectly on Twin A's shoulders, crotch to face, legs hooked under the other's arms. Twin B hugged himself, arms against the tops of his brother's feet; then the seated twin leaned backward, put his palms on the ground and flipped his brother forward into a roll. They completed three more rolls before coming to a stop in the beginning position; Twin B released his hug and Twin A executed a perfect backflip landing facing his brother a few feet away.

  Twin A took a few quick steps before launching himself over his brother, twisting in air and landing four feet behind him facing Twin B's back. Twin B did a backflip, seemingly levitating long enough to execute a twist and landed facing Twin A, who took two steps forward wrapping him in a bear hug. Edgar applauded before he caught himself and the two released each other and turned, almost as a single unit, to bow. Edgar added a whistle to his applause, stopping when the duo stood upright again.

  "Thank you!" they called out, again as one.

  "You're quite welcome!" answered Edgar, amazed at the unity of their actions and speech. "It was well-deserved," he walked toward them. He couldn't help but steal a glance down at the twins' crotches, surprised somewhat by the fact that both brothers were completely aroused. His mind wandered again to a ménage, but didn't get his hopes up. The twins looked at each other as he approached and, while there was no mistaking the fire that burned in their eyes, it was also unmistakable that fire burned for each other, not him. Very little in terms of sex surprised Edgar, including the pair's obvious affection for one another.

  So few taboos remained in the 2-4; consensual incest between same-sex siblings barely raised an eyebrow anymore. There was no possibility of in-breeding, which was the main objection to male-female pairings; those were still frowned upon. These two, now holding hands as Edgar stopped in front of them, seemed to be more than just bedmate-brothers; the handholding almost seemed to be a display of solidarity, the type shown by romantically-involved couples. Edgar made a point of noticing their linked hands and smiled, a signal to them that he respected their connection. Their easygoing smiles and the fact that they released each other's hands told Edgar he'd made his point.

  He extended his own hand and shook each twin's hand, exchanging introductions and complimenting them again on their performance. "I don't know how you guys do what you do, but it's amazing to watch! You must have been practicing since you were little kids."

  "Actually, we have," said Alex, the twin on Edgar's left.

  "Yep," Aaron, the twin on Edgar's right added, "since we were three. Our parents are gymnasts and they wanted us to have the same good health they got from it."

  "It definitely shows," Edgar said. "Sorry I was staring; I couldn't help it."

  The twins blushed a bit which Edgar thought was cute. They both spoke at the same time, but their words weren't the same, thankfully. Edgar was a little creeped out by their earlier Stepford Wives style responses. "No worries," Alex said as Aaron said "It's fine."

  They paused, making sure the other was finished. Aaron was the first to jump in, "We get that a lot. At first it was kind of embarrassing, but it is a public space and lots of people seem to find twins," he paused, looking for the right word, "irresistible," he chose.

  Alex frowned slightly at Aaron's choice of word and, noticing it, Aaron reached for his brother's hand, continuing only once they were joined again. "We've learned to deal with it," he said. We really like working out outdoors, so we had to get used to it." The smile left his face as well as his voice and Edgar noticed Alex squeezing his brother's hand. "It hasn't always been easy. Some people just never learned boundaries."

  Alex picked up where his brother left off, "We've had a few really bad experiences. Once, here, we actually had to call the authorities. The guy had a thing for twins and wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. We even tried leaving, but the asshole followed us." The young man's voice was showing a hint of anger and his face was reddening slightly.

  As if on telepathic cue, Aaron took over, "That wasn't the last straw," he said. "He decided he was going to show us how serious he was about us. He tried to tear off my singlet. It was a bad idea." Edgar stood, transfixed by the tale. It was readily apparent that the pair encountered more difficulties than support from strangers. He felt at once both sad and protective of the twins.

  Aaron seemed to be at a loss for words so Alex continued. "Gymnastics experience really helps when it comes to learning martial arts, especially Aikido. The authorities had to call emergency medical; I broke his fucking arm." This last wasn't delivered with simple anger; it sizzled with the white-hot heat that came only when one's love was threatened. Edgar understood completely; it was normal, everyday behavior for Andros, this fierce protectiveness. It didn't necessarily mean Alex and Aaron were Andros; the reaction was fairly common, just more so for Andros.

  Edgar took the opening to respond, "I'm so sorry. That's truly horrible; the prick deserved it. I'm surprised no one helped; I know I would've kicked his ass if I'd been there."

  This was obviously not the reaction the twins were expecting for some reason. They both looked a little surprised. Aaron responded first, "Thank you, Edgar. You're a good guy."

  Alex agreed, "No kidding. Thanks, man!"

  "My pleasure and thank you," Edgar replied. "It's the honorable thing to do."

  The brothers both nodded, but it was Aaron who spoke, "You know, Edgar, if it's not too forward," he looked at Alex, who nodded in silent confirmation, "we wouldn't mind getting to know you. You can never have too many understanding friends." They both smiled, waiting for an answer.

  "I'd like that, guys," Edgar replied. "I don't wear my earbuddy when I run, but if you have yours, I'll give you my code and you can leave me a message. Maybe we can grab a meal or something, soon."

  Alex took the lead, "That'd be great, Edgar! Go ahead when you're ready. Record code," Alex instructed his earbuddy.

  Edgar spoke his name and call code, "Edgar Aeternum, Foxtrot-oh-oh-oh-seven."

  "Got it," Alex said. "Heck, I could've remembered that one on my own."

  "Yeah, I got lucky," Edgar said. "Well, gotta run, literally," he smiled. "It was great meeting you guys. Call me and we'll set something up."

  "Sounds great!" Aaron said.

  "Will do!" added Alex. "Have a great run. It's time for us to head home, too."

  "Thanks! You guys have a great day!" Edgar replied. The trio parted ways and Edgar resumed his run, happy to have met a couple new friends. It was clear that the two faced some challenges due to the nature of their relationship, even with the freedoms of the 2-4. They seemed genuine and likeable, definitely the kind of people Edgar liked as friends.

  The rest of his run was uneventful; beautiful weather, pleasant view and the rush of endorphins once he hit the zone. As planned, he took a longer run and it was almost three as he neared Highland House. He slowed from a run to a jog to a walk and spent a few minutes stretching and cooling down.

  Soon after, he was kicking of his shoes, dropping his running shorts and heading for the shower. His body was humming with endorphins and the feel of a great workout. Edgar paused in front of the mirror, taking a moment to check himself out. It was more a leftover habit from the time before he became immortal than anything else. Back then, he kept a close eye on the results of his physical activity, something that ceased being necessary after immortality, as his body never changed.

  He was naturally hairless, except for the tight triangle at his groin and the tufts under his arms. He ran his hands through his sweat-soaked hair, thankful once again that he'd kept it at a medium leng
th; it hadn't grown even a fraction of an inch in the last 399 years. If he'd had it buzz cut, as many of his friends had, it would've stayed that length forever. He'd always preferred slightly longer hair, his own and others'.

  When he finished his self-appraisal, he stepped into the shower and asked the HC for a massaging pulse. He stood, enjoying the pulsating blasts of hot water as they eased the tension from his recently-worked muscles. Eventually, he had the HC change it to a flow resembling a gentle rain and began lathering up his tight body.

  After he toweled dry, he padded out to the kitchen, barefoot and naked, to grab a glass of water. He downed it and refilled his glass before going to his desk. He settled into his chair, checked the time and ordered an alarm for six-thirty; he'd give the Ch'oran piece another three hours' work before calling it a day. Edgar brought up the article he was reading before his run, paused and asked the HC to play Carmina Burana, one of his favorite operatic pieces. As the opening notes of O, Fortuna came over the speakers, he stretched and began reading.

  Edgar was making notes on a particularly grim assessment by the Ch'oran government of their chances of stopping the disease when the alarm chimed. He silenced it and finished his notes before stretching and heading to the window. The day was still beautiful, Gridley Park full of early evening joggers and picnickers. The sight of others eating was all it took to wake up Edgar's stomach, which began rumbling in protest that it was not being fed.

  He threw together a quick meal, a thick roast-beef sandwich and a huge bowl of vegetable soup. Half an hour later, his stomach was happy and silent. At loose ends for the evening, he walked back to the window, staring out at Gridley; dusk was descending and the Park's lights were blinking on like small stars. Far off in the distance, Navea's lights were also coming online.

  Edgar pondered going back to his research, but the thought made him cringe. He'd reached a particularly depressing section; the Ch'oran government had begun contingency planning in case the Thraxian assistance proved ineffective. The plan, it seemed, was to launch an Omega bomb from the planetary defense grid and eradicate the city. Omega was a nasty, but efficient tool; the lethal energy had an extremely short half-life, three days, and left nothing behind. Life, buildings, everything would simply cease to be as the lethal energy pulse broke every atomic bond in the city. There would be a blinding flash, intense heat and then... nothing. It would be as though the city had never existed.

  Edgar found this too depressing to contemplate, especially after spending the better part of the day pouring over tales of the tragic outbreak. Further adding to his grim mood were two sad and terrifying facts; one, the Ch'oran in the city would accept their Queen's decision without protest, knowing it was for the greater good and two, the sheer lethality of an Omega bomb. Not only was it the most destructive energy currently known, it was the most controllable source of destruction available.

  Omega-generating devices kept the energy on a tight leash; a good thing, as a runaway Omega pulse could destroy an entire planet. However, the leash was so tight, the control so precise, that the engineers operating the defense grid could program the pulse to the exact configuration of the area in question. No radioactive cloud to be blown on errant winds, no spill-over; if the bomb was programmed to wipe out an area of one hundred square miles, that area, and no more, was wiped out. Likewise, if the area in question was only one city block.

  That such precise killing power existed both intrigued and frightened Edgar. Over almost five centuries, he'd seen a great many of humanity's cruelties and some of those of the alien races. On one hand, Omega energy did away with collateral damage and environmental ruin; on the other, it was once used as a tool for ethnic cleansing on a far-away world that eventually sent itself to extinction in seemingly never-ending war.

  Edgar shuddered at the thought. He needed to get out of the apartment, forget all this grim news and be around people. He immediately thought of Hermes. It was a men's club offering various entertainments to its members, from broadcast sporting events to games, gambling and an area devoted to more carnal pursuits. Edgar's cock twitched a little at the thought. He was still horned up from his initial thoughts of the twins and a trip to Hermes sounded perfect.

  He found his thoughts drifting to Maddox as he headed to the walk in closet. Once again, he wished the younger man was free tonight. Ever the pragmatist, Edgar found no problem with wanting Maddi but going to Hermes. As an Andro, Edgar was able to comfortably separate sex and emotion; despite his burgeoning interest in Maddi, they hadn't even had their first date and neither owed the other anything, much less fidelity, at this point. The few times Edgar had become emotionally involved with someone, he'd stopped all other exploits, preferring monogamy. It was way too soon to even think about that with Maddi, though, so Edgar focused instead on prepping for Hermes. As he rifled through rows of hanging clothes searching for something to wear, the HC announced an incoming call from Wizzer. Edgar abandoned his search and sprawled out on the bed, telling the HC to put through the call.

  "Wiz! How are you?" Edgar said.

  "I'm great, man; you?" the reedy voice replied. "Got your message earlier but I was travelling."

  Edgar smiled. Travelling for Wizzer likely meant sitting naked in his living room spaced out of his mind on phoraz, a designer drug that made LSD seem like an additive for Girl Scout cookies. Edgar tried it once, with Wiz, but found the resulting trip too intense for his liking. Wizzer swore by the stuff, claiming it enabled him to touch the essence of the Universe, capital U.

  "That's cool, Wiz. I'm good. Thought you might like to know I'm trying to set up a date with Maddox," Edgar said, steeling himself for Wiz' reaction.

  He wasn't at all surprised when the man's voice rose even higher as he practically squealed, "Edgar! I'm soooo happy for you! Maddi's a great kid, smart as a whip, hot as hell itself and has a lot of drive to make a good life for himself! I just knew you guys would hit it off! This is so exciting! I knew I was taking a chance giving out your comm ID, but I just had to; it felt so right. Who am I to stand in the way of destiny, y'know?"

  Edgar waited until Wiz finished gushing. Everything with Wizzer was always over the top; in his mind, he probably had Maddi and Edgar married already. When he was sure his friend wasn't going to spin off again, he said, "Yeah, I'm intrigued; he seems like a great guy. Let's not go ring shopping just yet though, OK? I don't know dick about destiny, but I am looking forward to a date. You really should ask before giving out my caller ID, though. There are a lot of whackos out there. Hell, I just beat a claim at Altair Legal that I practically raped a woman I've never even met."

  "I know, I know," Wiz sounded like a scolded child. "Sorry to hear about the Legal thing, but I know Maddi's a good soul; he'd never cause any trouble."

  Ah shit! He's in one of his sensitive moods. I better do damage control quick or he's gonna start crying and I'll have to spend my evening talking him down."

  "Wiz, Wiz, calm down, man, Edgar said in a gentle tone." It's OK. Turns out, I agree with you about Maddi. But it could just as easily have gone wrong. You're a good friend, thinking of me like you do."

  "Really?" Wizzer replied. "I only meant to do a good thing. I promise I'll be more careful. Honest!"

  Edgar sighed. It looked like the crisis was averted. Wizzer really was a terrific friend, but sometimes he could be a bit high maintenance. "Really," he assured Wizzer. "I wouldn't lie to you, buddy."

  "Yay!" came the response, accompanied by the sound of lightly clapping hands. Edgar grinned and shook his head. For a man with an IQ at the genius level, Wizzer was almost childlike at times. Edgar actually found it an endearing trait. "So you'll call me and tell me all about it, right?"

  "Of course I will," Edgar said. "So what's new with you?"

  "My problem client finally made up his mind on the color scheme! It only took him three weeks and about forty changes! He went with Rome. The man is a total drama queen. If he spent as much time on important matters as he does flitting a
round meddling in other people's business, his damn house would've been done by now. Honestly!" Wiz was, as he put it, a lifestyle experience designer. His clients' requests ranged from whole home interior design to temporarily transforming a given space into an exciting new world for special events. The only common denominator his clients had was money. Lots and lots of, apparently, disposable income; Wiz' eclectic services cost almost as much per hour as a top-class barrister and the wait list for his talent was three months, minimum. However, Edgar knew Wiz' work and thought the spritely little elf was worth every credit.

  Edgar sympathized with Wizzer on this particular client, though. The man was impossible. A retired psychiatrist, he had to analyze every single detail of the design process to ensure it would have the right psychological impact not only on himself, but his visitors. In the two months Wiz was working with Dr. Dumbass, as he privately called the man, the only things he'd accomplished were choosing a style (neo-Classical Thraxian) and a color scheme (autumn in ancient Rome). Try as he may, Edgar couldn't wrap his head around the choices, especially since Thraxus had but one season: Perfect summer.

  "Well, congratulations! It took him long enough! I don't know how you put up with people like him; I'd have either pushed him in front of a magna or thrown myself in front of one!" Edgar said.

  "Tell me about it," said Wizzer. "There are five very good reasons: M, O, N, E and Y. He's rolling in it and I don't mind helping him spend it. Of course, I have to constantly remind myself of that fact."

  "Whatever works, man!" replied Edgar "I'm just glad it's not me putting up with him. I don't think even the money could keep me sane. "As a matter of fact, Edgar was a bit surprised when Wizzer complained about Dr. Dumbass. His friend was typically one of those people who found the good in even the most annoying person. Dr. D must be every bit as bad as Wiz said and then some to get under Wiz' skin.

  "I'm celebrating the momentous occasion by staying up all night with a bong and a VR date." Wizzer preferred taking his pleasures in the elaborately crafted virtual world called Synthesis. It was an open-source community where, with the right (outrageously expensive) gear one could live out any fantasy conceivable and some that made even Edgar cringe. "As a matter of fact," Wiz continued, "I better get going if I'm going to be suited up and jacked in on time."