Mirrored Hearts

by Emily Sheppard

  "It's no problem," Shannon declared. He dug in his pocket for his wallet again. "Just, uh, don't get too used to it."

  "Believe me, I won't," Matt said with feeling. He got his own card out, and after a short but pleasant transaction with the proprietor, he received a cloth bag with the sculpture inside, wrapped in protective coating.

  "Where will you put it?" Shannon asked as they maneuvered away through the excitable crowd.

  "Probably on one of the shelves in my apartment. It's a little bare in there, but then, I don't usually feel the need to fill up a space. I guess I'm sort of minimalist that way." Matt realized that he was thinking aloud; Shannon was just an easy person to talk to.

  "The opposite of me, then. I'm a bit of a hoarder." Shannon chuckled.

  "Are you one of those people who save ticket stubs and napkins?"

  "Not the napkins, but tickets to events, yes." They shared a laugh.

  Soon after, they came to the end of the street fair and approached the intersection where they would have to part ways. For one crazy instant, Matt felt like asking Shannon if he could see where he lived, but he swallowed the impulse.

  He turned to Shannon. "Well, I guess I'll go this way." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

  "This was fun," Shannon said, smiling. "You had fun, right?"

  "Yeah." Matt grinned in response. "We should go out again soon."

  "But in the meantime, feel free to message me whenever."

  "Sure thing."

  They parted to cross the opposing streets, and Matt tried not to think of this as having been a date.

  *~*~*

  A month passed. Matt and Shannon continued with their occasional meet-ups, usually once or twice a week. They went to the holo-cinema, attended the latest synesthesia concert, or just walked around. They discussed all manner of subjects, their fondness of each other growing by increments. They had yet to see each other's apartments. Privately Matt thought that would make it too weird. But then, Shannon's attraction to him could have dissipated after Matt told him he was asexual, if it hadn't already before. Shannon never looked at him in that way or made any suggestive remarks.

  But something happened to change all that. And it began one night while Matt was curled up on his love seat eating some re-hydrated noodles for dinner. He was messaging with two of his friends in a group chat when his comm pinged with a separate notification. He waved the conversation away and opened the new window. It was a message from Shannon asking, quite out of the blue, which number his apartment was and whether Matt minded if he came up. Matt tapped back that it was pretty sudden, but he lived in number eighty-three.

  He went back to his friends and told them that he was about to have some company over. They made the inevitable snarky comments that he was having a lover come by, and he brushed them off. He ended the conversation, and roughly two minutes later there was a buzz at his door. He leaped off the couch and pressed one of the adjacent buttons. "Who is it?" he called into the speaker for propriety's sake.

  "It's me," came back a familiar voice. There was a pause and then, "Shannon."

  "I'll let you in." Matt held down the other button. Downstairs, an electronic chime and light would accompany the entrance sliding open. He spent the next few minutes marginally straightening up, disposing of his noodle bowl and propping up the only pillow. He was still gazing around the small space when there was a knock at his door.

  He went to open it, and saw Shannon hunched over outside his doorway, one hand bracing against the frame.

  Alarm spiked through Matt. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice a shade higher than usual.

  Shannon raised his head and gave him a pained smile that was more of a grimace. "I ran into a little trouble."

  "Why didn't you go to the medical bay?" Matt cried, stepping back to let him in.

  Shannon limped over to the chair and sat down heavily, careful not to bleed on the material. "Your apartment was closer. Do you have a first aid kit?"

  Matt went into his bathroom and got the container of bandages from below the sink. As he re-entered the room, Shannon said, "I'll just get patched up a little here and go to the med bay."

  "But I don't have anything to sew," Matt protested as he placed the bin on the floor. He knelt to dig around in the supplies. He unspooled the bandages and lightly shook the bottle of disinfectant to gauge its amount. He got out the healing cream, stored in a bright orange tube for quick identification. He had never used this kit before; when he'd first moved in, he had bought it, stowed it under the sink, and hadn't given it a second thought. "There's no thread."

  "That's okay," Shannon said soothingly. "It's just a graze… I think."

  Matt's brain caught up with him. "Wait," he said as Shannon fumbled with his clothes and he held the disinfectant ready. "How did this even happen? I thought your uniform was bulletproof."

  "Well, you know what they say," Shannon said, wincing as he exposed his wound. "Ah… where there's armor, there will be armor-piercing bullets."

  Matt splashed some of the liquid onto a thick piece of gauze and dabbed at Shannon's wound. It was his lower stomach, off to the side. If it was a graze, it was rather a deep one. But there didn't seem to be any bullet lodged in there. He next took the healing ointment and another piece of gauze. He liberally daubed on the ointment, not caring if it was too much. Shannon gritted his teeth all the while, trying not to show pain.

  Matt awkwardly wound the bandage around Shannon's torso, attempting to make it firm but not too tight. The fabric was non-absorbent, so it wouldn't leech the wound even more.

  "So…" he began tentatively. "What happened? If it's not top-secret or something like that."

  Shannon was silent, seeming to get his thoughts in order. "I was with another Upholder," he said. "We'd just gotten an anonymous tip-off about some criminal activity in one of the outer sectors. It didn't occur to us that it might be a trap. When we got there, it was a whole nest of… n'er-do-wells—" Matt gave him a strange look, "—camping out there, ready to jump any Upholders that came by. They were… very upset with the whole institution, and for a while there was some insult-slinging."

  "And… then…" Matt flicked his gaze at his wound.

  Shannon's eyes tightened. He lowered his head. "My partner didn't make it. It was…" He cleared his throat. "It was a direct head shot. Probably dumb luck." He paused. "Like I said, it would seem that someone's thought up weapons that are effective against our uniforms."

  Matt dipped his head as well. He wanted to do something soothing, like place his hand on Shannon's knee. After a split second of indecision, he went ahead and did it. There was nothing wrong with physical comfort, was there? He laid his hand across the fabric of Shannon's knee. "I'm sorry," he said, looking into his eyes.

  "Thank you," Shannon said softly.

  They sat in companionable silence for a long time.

  Eventually, Shannon broke the silence. "You know," he began, "this is probably a horrible time to bring this up, but…"

  Matt looked up at him, surprised. A tension-filled moment lingered where it looked like Shannon would abandon his line of thought and pretend that he hadn't said anything. But then he continued.

  "Tell me… a little more about yourself. What would a relationship with someone who's asexual… be like?"

  Aghast, Matt dropped his gaze to Shannon's knee before he could see his expression. "Why are you asking that?"

  "Only because… I was wondering, that is, if it wouldn't be too objectionable, if you wouldn't mind… going out with me." Matt looked up in time to see Shannon flick his gaze uncomfortably to the left.

  "Oh," Matt said, and he could feel himself reddening. He wasn't sure whether he was feeling mortification or joy. His heart was beating so fast. He realized his throat was becoming dry. He realized he hadn't taken a breath in the last few seconds.

  Matt realized that his hand was still on Shannon's knee.

  Searching his feelings, Matt felt a smile forming on his
face. This could be what he had always dreamed of. He raised his face to the man before him, still smiling.

  "I do like you," he said. Shannon's expression immediately broke into one of relief, and Matt became aware that he had probably remained silent a bit too long for comfort. "It's just—" Matt squeezed Shannon's leg slightly so he could know this wasn't a rejection, "—this is a pretty emotional time, and I'd really feel better if you went to the med bay, went home, and slept on it."

  "I have slept on it," said Shannon. "It's been at the back of my mind ever since the frozen yogurt. And you said you're not aromantic, right?" He seemed to get a hold of himself and ducked his head again. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to put you on the spot like that. Or make you feel like an experiment. I guess it has been an emotional day."

  Matt relaxed. He stood back while Shannon rearranged his clothes. He caught a glimpse of his wrapped wound before the uniform covered it; it was still bleeding, though not much.

  "Do you want me to go with you to the med bay?" Matt offered as Shannon stood up.

  "No, that's okay. I'll just call a hover." Shannon threw him a look that softened his words.

  "Okay… I hope you'll be all right."

  He accompanied Shannon to the door, and just as he walked across the threshold, Matt spoke up. "When you're back on your feet, call me if you still feel the same." He gave Shannon a shy smile. "Or we could meet up again."

  "Will do." Shannon tossed Matt a look which conveyed his complete confidence that he would still want him after this. Then he walked down the hall toward the elevator, one hand on his side.

  Matt stood in his doorway for several seconds, unabashedly gazing after him. When he came to himself and started to feel like a creep, he ducked back into his apartment. The door slid closed behind him.

  He picked up his mobile and rejoined the conversation with his friends. They wanted to know what happened. He replied that it was just a friend who was in the neighborhood, popping in to say hi.

  Matt chatted with them for about an hour more, then went through his nightly routine. He double-checked the door, started the dish sterilizer, and after changing and then brushing his teeth, flopped into bed.

  After a few minutes lying there, all the lights out, his mind wandered. He stared at his metal wolf sculpture, standing on a shelf in the living area where he had told Shannon he'd put it. It was just a darker spot among more darkness, but Matt stared at it nonetheless, his eyes beginning to lose focus as he mused.

  He tried not to get his hopes up about starting a relationship with Shannon. Even barring the obvious thing, Shannon was an Upholder, one of the corrupt group of enforcers that had tormented the citizens for years. He wasn't like that, of course, but it could complicate things. His acquaintances would look at him with incredulity, possibly causing some rifts, and then there were Shannon's colleagues. Matt didn't particularly want to be around those who were mad with power, then comforted himself with the reassurance that Shannon wouldn't hang around with those types anyway, except where mandatory. A pang hit him as he remembered that this all might be moot, that perhaps Shannon was just emotional from what had happened earlier, and as a result thought that he had to impulsively leap into things. But starting a relationship or staying friends—either way, Matt would love to continue seeing him for the foreseeable future.

  He mulled a little while longer, still staring at his wolf, more so in his mind's eye now. It was so majestic and protective, and in the space just beneath consciousness he found himself likening it to Shannon. Then he finally fell asleep.

  *~*~*

  Shannon didn't contact him the next day, but Matt assumed he was still healing. He wondered aimlessly what the procedure was for Upholders wounded in the line of duty. How much off-time did they get? Presumably they were still paid. Then he started gauging how much vacation time he had accumulated at Blue Light, Inc. He was due for a few days of relaxation.

  He picked up his salted caramel Frappuccino from the kiosk. He had woken up late and gone without his usual coffee before work, so he was remedying that now. The hustle and bustle of the crowd swarmed around him with its soothing white noise. The lines were particularly long and unruly today because two of the androids had broken down while he was still at work. Around him, he heard angry muttering, wondering what the odds were that two of the damned things would stop working in the same time frame. He even heard one person calling it a conspiracy to deprive the citizens of their caffeine.

  Matt quickly returned to his apartment. He probably shouldn't have stopped for coffee, especially with that long line, but he had a big project ahead of him and wanted to stay revved up. Blue Light, Inc. was about to hand over a graphic design to a very wealthy client. A prominent label in the entertainment industry had placed an order for five different touring poster designs for their rising star band. Matt was working on one of them with two other people. Having researched the aesthetic of the group at work, he started up a video call with his colleagues to discuss the initial layout.

  It wasn't too formal, so Matt didn't think it inappropriate to have a snack while on call. Along with his coffee he ate a small bag of protein chips, albeit in a discreet way. The three of them sketched on their respective pads of paper, and by the time forty-five minutes had gone by, they had a strong base on which to build and flourish. They bid each other goodbye and signed off.

  Matt went to look in his tiny fridge to decide what to do for dinner. While crouched in front of the clear door, his head still swirled with design ideas. After several moments, Shannon trickled into his thoughts as well. He experienced an incongruous pang of anxiety, but before he could fully process the emotion, it had faded away. Pondering on what the hell that was, he took out a nutrition pack, matzah ball soup flavored. He squeezed it into a bowl and slid it into the heating orb. While the hemispheres glowed and rotated around his meal, he went on his mobile to check the news.

  The civil unrest regarding the communication rates was growing. Demonstrations were popping up all over the city. Fortunately, part of Matt's comm plan was provided to him by work, given the required collaboration between employees. He only had to pay for additional costs if he went over. But reading one of the articles now, it did seem pretty high. He wished the people luck in their endeavor, or at least that another company would appear to drive prices down again.

  He ate his soup pack and flipped around the feeds on his TV. Eventually, he landed on a rerun of a nature documentary. There were virtually no longer any wild animals due to the state of the environment. The remainder were kept on small, controlled preserves where the pollution was mildest. And they were defended by quite the passionate workers and volunteers. Matt watched as a group of lionesses stalked their prey.

  He fell asleep on the couch, with his sketchpad in his hand.

  *~*~*

  The next day was a Saturday, so Matt planned on visiting the performance dome again. He'd gone there once with Shannon. The sunken amphitheater was open to anyone who bought a time slot. The performers themselves were a mixed bag; there were some good enough to land a record deal, and others who might have had a few too many friends and family tell them that they were excellent. Technically, one could do anything onstage, with the exclusion of behavior deemed offensive by the government, but in the performance dome it tended toward music. People lugged all sorts of fantastical instruments onstage to produce otherworldly sounds. Or else they took established material and remixed it live using holo-ware. With permission from the original artists, of course; no one wanted lawyers coming down on their head. They were sometimes worse than the Upholders at making one's life hell.

  Matt took a seat on one of the giant metal steps that functioned as a bench. He had his shoulder bag and another snack in hand, dehydrated fruit this time. The small crowd lounging around the amphitheater chatted among themselves and their neighbors while a group set up their equipment. It was hard to tell who were the performers and who were crew members. They were all dressed roughly the
same, in black fabric with florescent edges. Eventually, though, all but two stayed on the stage and took their positions. The lead guy said something in the mic but most of the audience ignored him. Then they started playing, and it caught the attention of several people, followed by more. The group had a good beat, and the waves pulsed and reverberated around the dome.

  While the band was deep into their second song, Matt felt his mobile buzz. Tapping his foot, he leisurely took it out of his pocket and pulled up the notification. He felt a leap in his chest when he saw it was a message from Shannon.

  Hey. What are you up to? :)

  Matt replied, I'm at the performance dome. How are you doing?

  You mean my injury? It's okay. I got stitched up and it's healing fast. I think I can go out again

  Matt frowned. You mean you're going right back to work?

  Haha, no, I need to be in tip-top shape for that. I mean do civilian things like going to the store. Or hang out with you!

  Matt grinned to himself. After a moment, he tapped back, Well why don't you swing by the performance dome. I was planning on staying for a few acts :)

  Sure. I can be there in 10 mins

  Matt put down his mobile, still with a goofy smile on his face. He sent off a quick See you then and leaned back on his arms, settling in to wait.

  After a couple more songs, the group onstage took a bow—there was scattered applause—and gathered up their equipment. Up next was a woman who looked to be in her late teens, holding a modified flute. It was enameled in different colors that Matt could pick out even from a distance. The woman adjusted the mic for a few seconds, and then let flow her first notes. The result was magical. It was the sound of a basic flute, but with a deeper resonance that gave the music a more full-bodied tone. The musician alternated the melody between slow and languorous, and quick and energized. Matt instantly found himself wishing that Shannon could get here before the woman finished playing. Nearly the entire dome was fixated.

  Fortunately, the flute was still sounding when Matt noticed movement in his peripheral vision. He looked up and saw Shannon's form settling beside him. "Hey," he said with a smile.