The Bargaining Path

by T. Rudacille

  ***

  People didn’t revolt when told that they had to report to work. Maybe they knew that it was in their best interests to tow the line. The morning after Adam’s speech, after the visit from the Pangaean man telling us that all security personnel were to report, and Brynna was to report to the town hall, we tried to keep our morning as normal as usual so Penny and Oliver didn’t worry too much.

  “And so, Violet and I have decided that we are officially the Clan of the Dragon.”

  “Why dragons?” I asked, as we all ate a hearty breakfast of goat cheese, egg, and bacon sandwiches on homemade bread and various Pangaean fruits, all of which had been made or grown by us, all of which would be gone soon and replenished only when Adam chose to replenish it.

  “Because they're awesome!” Violet informed me, “And we need a name for our group. Did you guys hear that Don and his people have named us?”

  “I heard.” Brynna told them.

  “Well, obviously.” Violet replied with a roll of her eyes, “I heard it from you. Were you there when they chose our name?”

  “I was. I tried to stop the ridiculous endeavor of naming our group before it began, but alas, I was overruled. The downside of a democratic system is that I am sometimes overruled.”

  “You could always have a coup and make us a dictatorship, with you as the dictator.” James suggested.

  “Oh, yeah?” Brynna asked as she slid down into his lap and kissed him, wrinkling his newspaper without a care that he was trying to read it. Violet, Nick, and Alice were talking amongst themselves, but I heard her murmur, “Will you be my slave?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Yeah?” She leaned in and kissed him.

  “Oh, yeah. Tell me what you’d make me do, and I’ll do it to you the minute I get home tonight…”

  “Guys!” I exclaimed, “I’m trying to eat.”

  “Sorry.” They both replied furiously. She jumped off of his lap, and he continued reading his newspaper as though nothing had happened.

  “I swear, you two fight one minute, and then the next minute you’re all lovey-dovey. It’s freaking weird! Stop it!”

  “Oh, Quinnevra, I am sorry that we are not doing one or the other all the time. But then, I am not sorry, for things would be very boring.”

  “But the Red Anarchy?” Nick was saying, “Isn’t that a little, I don’t know, dramatic? It’s theatrical. It’s like a motorcycle gang.”

  “You’re thinking of Sons of Anarchy, that television show about bikers. Just because Anarchy is in our title doesn’t mean we’re a biker gang, babe.” Violet replied, “I kind of like it. It’s intimidating.”

  “If by intimidating, you mean completely overcompensating in hopes of being intimidating, then yes, I suppose it is intimidating.” Brynna picked up a piece of James’s toast and ate it, “I informed all of those ridiculous men that their need to name us as a group says something about their desire for unity and masculinity which can only be achieved through formidable nomenclature, which speaks to their need to compensate for a certain area of their physiques that is lacking quite pathetically.”

  “You said all of that outright?” James asked, as he choked on his coffee from laughing so hard, “What am I saying? Of course you did. But did you say that right away, or...”

  “No. We argued about it for quite a while. Tony and I and several others insisted that there was no need for a name. The Old Spirits are called 'the Old Spirits' by all of us because that has been their name for thousands upon thousands years, and if they were to suddenly hand down a name that we are meant to address them by...”

  “The Holy Rollers.” I added, “That would be their name.”

  “That's too cliché!” Alice protested, “They would have to be something completely original, because their craziness is completely original. They would have to be...” Her lips pulled to one side and her eyes turned up to look at the ceiling in her traditional expression of thought and contemplation.

  “Anyway, while you stew over that, I will continue my story that Quinnevra so rudely interrupted.”

  Penny, who was in one of her goofy moods, laughed raucously and slapped her thigh in a comically overzealous show of amusement. All that had occurred the night before had been forgotten, or at least, pushed away. She did hop up by herself into Brynna’s arms randomly every few minutes and kiss her bruised cheek before scurrying back down to sit in her chair again.

  “Quinnevra! He's not a girl, but he's Quinnevra!” She laughed, as though she had never heard Brynna call me that before.

  James choked on his coffee again, and some actually spewed from his lips, which he quickly mopped up with a napkin.

  “Ladies!” He exclaimed, “You're killin' me!”

  There was a banging on the door, and all of us jumped, our good moods erased, our eyes white in alert.

  “Relax. It is Tajal and Maribel.” Brynna told us.

  “Yay!” Penny’s eyes turned blue again, and she jumped up to let her two friends in. They came into the kitchen, giggling and talking loudly, and Penny threw her arms around Brynna’s middle for half a second before trying to run off.

  “Freeze!” Brynna exclaimed, and Penny stopped, sat down, and finished the last bit of her sandwich. “Drink one more big gulp of juice, and then skedaddle. Maribel, Tajal, are you hungry?”

  “No, Ms. Brynna.” They both replied simultaneously.

  “Thirsty?”

  They were, so she poured them some juice.

  “Mom and Dad know you two are out?” She asked, because Maribel and Tajal, despite their very different names, had the same Mom and Dad. Maribel’s parents, a couple from the southern-most tip of Texas, had been next to Tajal’s family on the ship. Both of Maribel’s parents had died in the house fire, and Maribel had only survived because, as the story goes, the parents had sworn to look after each other’s children if anything happened, and Tajal’s father had run in to get her. While Maribel did remember her parents, she still referred to Tajal’s parents as “Mom” and “Dad.” Stories like that were not uncommon.

  “Yeah, but they said since everyone is out, we should be fine.” Maribel answered, “Ms. Brynna, does your eye hurt?”

  “No, baby, I am alright.” Brynna replied kindly.

  The girls started to take their cups into the living room so they could sit around the coffee table and chat without us grown-ups overhearing their plans of dastardly mischief. Believe me when I say that they were always getting up to things, Penny and her friends. Whether it was seeing who could sneak into the chicken coop and catch a chicken (which they always put back, or which always attacked them, because they were very aggressive, those chickens) or stealing peaches, pears, orange rutabagas, and plum mangoes from the farming section of Janna's village, their “delinquency,” as Brynna called it, was laughed at by some but loathed by others. Brynna and James had been summoned, along with the other parents, to make peace with several of our neighbors, Pangaean and Earthean, alike.

  “Penelope!” Brynna called after them when they went to leave. “Recite the guidelines, if you please.”

  Penny sighed heavily and rolled her eyes, and when Brynna widened her own piercing blue eyes and raised her eyebrows to look at her, Penny murmured an apology.

  “No going into town and causing trouble. No stealing. No mischief. No going into the woods. Be home by the time to second bell chimes.”

  “Thank you, ma'am. You are free to roam these wild and untamed lands. I love you.”

  “I love you.” Penny beamed and hugged James, “I love you, too, James!”

  “And I love you, Punky.” He kissed her head, “Go have fun.” Because Brynna wasn’t looking, he leaned forward and murmured quickly, “Catch me a chicken.”

  “James Maxwell!” Brynna shouted, and Penny ran off giggling, shouting that she knew he was only kidding. James and I were laughing uproariously, but he was shielding himself as Brynna whacked him several times with a damp dishrag.


  “Punky?” Alice asked.

  “Punky Brewster's real name was Penelope! I learned that playing Trivial Pursuit.” James informed us. He and Brynna stared at the three of us, waiting for us to realize what they were talking about.

  “Was she in a band?” Nick asked, as the three of us tried to stifle our laughs.

  “Was she... Wow. Children, you were culturally deprived.” Brynna told us, “While I was not born in the eighties, I did watch eighties television; one of those shows was Punky Brewster, and yes, her real name was Penelope, which is why James calls Penny 'Punky.'”

  “Yeah, we got that part. But why did they call Penelope on the show 'Punky?' Was she in a band?” Nick pressed her in that calm, jokingly arrogant way he did.

  Brynna sighed heavily, and James just shook his head at us.

  “I have to remind myself that I'm around little people sometimes. You guys don't get the same references that we do.”

  “She's like, four years older than us!”

  “Yes, but I had unlimited access to movies and television shows. All of my free time was spent watching them. Ask Violet, she knows this story: What is the first film I ever saw that was rated R?”

  “Reservoir Dogs.”

  “And how old was I?”

  “Eight.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What?” I exclaimed, “Oh my God, I have to go to work. I can't do this. You were eight when you saw that?!”

  “Yes, I was. The internet was a wonderful thing.”

  “Yes.” I nodded emphatically. “It was.”

  “Ew!” Alice exclaimed as James, Nick, and I got up to leave, cackling loudly because all of us could appreciate that joke.

  “You all are sick. I hope they make you herd the cows again.” Violet told us.

  “I do not wish that.” Brynna said as she kissed James. “It took days to get the smell of manure out of the house.”

  “She was spraying me with that lavender ruby-berry spritz stuff while I was sleeping.” James agreed, “It was unpleasant for both of us.” He kissed her again, and they smiled at each other. She grasped his face, and her smile widened.

  “I love you. Please, please, please be safe today. And that goes for you two as well, Quinn and Nick. The one eye you had out for danger before? Make it two eyes now.”

  “I will. We will. I love you, too.” James kissed her, “Stay out of trouble, would ya?”

  “You know that I will not.”

  “I do know. So, I'll change that. Give 'em hell.”

  She grinned.

  “I will. Good day to you, gentlemen.”

  “Good day to you, madam.” I replied, “May your walks on the promenade be filled with wonder.”

  Alice, Violet, and Brynna gaped at me, and James, Nick, and I laughed. When we walked away, waving over our shoulders, we heard Alice and Violet giggling, and when we turned, we saw Brynna with her half smile, shaking her head slightly.

  I remember that, because we lost control of things before we saw them again. I remember that, because our minds grab onto those moments that were so insignificant at the time, and turn them into noteworthy, meaningful moments when we were supposed to be learning something, or taking something away. We were supposed to feel a pull in our instincts that would tell us to stay behind and guard our family.

  But it wasn't instinct that we needed to warn us. It was common sense. It was learning from past experiences. We had let ourselves fall into the lull of security far too many times. Some wise man gave stupid men a great advantage when he said, in what I'm sure was not meant to be taken as so meaningfully resonant at the time, that a country that doesn't learn from its history is doomed to repeat its failures. And we weren't a country, but we were close.

  Close enough that that little nugget of wisdom should have meant something.