by R F Hurteau
Ripley tried to reign in his exasperation as he walked, keeping several paces ahead. It wasn’t hard, as Felix kept falling behind, stopping to pick up trinkets as they went. For someone who had just called it all junk, his friend certainly found a great deal of it curious enough to warrant further inspection.
“Come on, buddy. You can’t stay mad at me forever. How was I supposed to know they’d make us walk? I mean, it was just a vape! You think it’s ‘cause I’m a Halfsie?”
Ripley rolled his eyes. “You think everything is because you’re a Halfsie. And a lot of times it might be! But sometimes it’s just because you don’t think, Felix.”
Ripley stumbled, too flustered to pay attention to where he was placing his feet on the littered ground. “They revoked our Tube privileges for a week! Do you know how early I’m going to have to wake up to be on time now? The domes won’t even be lit yet, for crying out loud.”
“You didn’t have to defend me. I think I had the situation under control.”
Ripley stopped, whirling around to face Felix. “You offered to let him try and then you gave him a demonstration!”
“Well, clearly your diplomatic approach didn’t work, either.”
Felix jogged up beside him and held out his hand. “Here. For you.”
An old pair of pliers. Ripley flexed the handles, feeling the slight resistance of rust in the hinge. He shrugged, slipping them into the pocket of his vest and giving Felix a wary look.
“Are you trying to bribe me with garbage you picked up off the ground? Because it’s not going to work. I’m still mad at you.”
There came a sudden clanging from somewhere behind them. It echoed for a while, ricocheting off the walls before fading away.
Unlike the clean, smooth white of Sigil, the Tube was constructed from concrete, but metal paneling peppered the trail, giving access to maintenance shafts, electrical junctions, or geothermal components. Newer panels, freshly galvanized and gleaming, were interspersed among the original construction, where over a century’s worth of wear and tear had taken its toll. The whole tunnel had the appearance of an ugly patchwork quilt.
Felix grinned. “Don’t be such a pessimist. Try not to think about how long it will take you to get to work. Instead, consider how awesome it will be spending all that extra time with me! Your best friend, Felix, the Magnificent!”
A smile tugged unbidden at the corner of Ripley’s lips. “I can hardly wait.” The words dripped with sarcasm. “I’m so grateful for the opportunity to walk down these creepy tunnels full of weird noises. By myself. Seeing as you’ve got your bed at Sigil.”
“Oh yeah, I do! Bad luck for you, then. But hey, it’s not my fault they make me stay nights sometimes. I mean, what if one of the motion sensors went off and no one was there to sound the alarm?”
There was a rumbling behind them, and they moved instinctively to the edge of the walkway to allow wide berth to a passing train.
“Could be worse, you know.” Felix bent to examine another potential treasure as he spoke. Picking it up, he turned it over in his hand before chucking it away, unimpressed. “I mean, at least you’re in D5, so it’s a lot closer than my place. And the weather’s nice.”
Ripley tried not to laugh, but it was hard to argue with that. In school, they’d been taught how outside of the city there were all kinds of dangers. From scorching deserts and floodplains to tornadoes and storms.
Here in Antarctica, there were months of darkness and long periods of twilight when the sun never rose above the horizon at all. The domes had been carefully crafted to simulate day and night, but Ripley knew that outside it was dark more often than not. They’d been taught to have a healthy respect for the constant, comfortable temperature and predictability of life in Sanctuary. They’d been ingrained to be grateful for what they had, the instinctual longing for anything more plucked from young minds as seeds and squashed beneath the heel of the establishment. Better not to think on such things. Things that could never be.
Yet Ripley found himself looking upward sometimes. He’d imagine the warm, unobstructed heat of the sun on his face. He knew, somehow, just how it would feel.
Instead, he was always met only by the gentle, frosted glow of the illuminated dome high above.
An artificial light source for an artificial existence.
Felix’s tentative query broke through his reverie. “Ripley?”
“Yeah?”
“You still mad?”
Ripley’s fingers traced the pliers in his pocket. Felix was an unmotivated, lazy, mischief-making slob.
He was also the best, most loyal friend Ripley had ever known.
“Nah, I’m not mad,” he decided, shoulders slumping as his temper began to cool.
Felix exhaled with exaggerated relief. “Good. Because Willow will be, and I’m going to blame you.”
***
The dome’s cool evening glow had already begun to fade when they emerged from the tunnels, signaling closing time for the market. This simulated sunlight allowed them to grow food and reap those benefits that the outside world obtained from normal exposure. The simulated night kept them off the streets and out of trouble.
At least, that was the intention. Ripley wasn’t sure how effective the measure actually was.
A lifetime of exploring with Felix had taught Ripley which market had the best price for which item, which shopkeepers would haggle and which to avoid. He’d always loved the marketplaces. They were so different from the rigidity of school or the mundane doldrums of working at Sigil. It was lively here, colorful and welcoming. In the market, everyone was free to make their own choices instead of dutifully following orders like mindless automatons.
Felix held out his vape pen. “Do you have any fuel cells at your place? I don’t have my spares with me.”
Ripley raised an eyebrow. “You can’t even be serious right now. First, you get us kicked off the Tube over that thing, and now you want me to be your enabler? Felix, my friend, you are a special kind of crazy.”
“Oh, come on. Everybody needs something to relax them. I like my vape. It de-stresses me!”
Ripley sighed. “That’s not even a word. And I don’t even know what it is you have to be stressed about. It certainly has nothing to do with your work.” Yet somehow, he found his feet veering off to the right toward a small concrete booth adorned with bright red streamers.
“James!” he shouted, waving a hand above his head to draw the older man’s attention, the sharp pain in his side returning as he did so. “Hold up!”
James smiled kindly as he stopped what he was doing. “Ripley! If you have need of me, it must be that fate favors you today. I’d have been home five minutes ago if I could just get this infernal thing to come down.” He glared upward. “Fiendish chain.”
“Well, glad we caught you, then.”
Ripley hopped the counter and Felix followed. James stepped out of the way as Ripley reached up and gave a quick tug on the chain, then another. He gritted his teeth as he willed the shutter to close.
Felix gestured, motioning for Ripley to step aside. He grasped the chain with one hand, making it look almost effortless, and a sharp, grating sound made them all grimace as it finally began to yield. The rolling metal shutter descended downward at a steady crawl until it met the counter.
“Thank you! It’s always been stubborn, but it’s gotten so much worse lately, it seems. Or maybe I’m just getting old and weak. Who can say?”
Ripley peered up to where the edge of the shutter disappeared into a channel that ran to the stall’s roof. “No problem, James. Looks like it might just be getting rusty. I’ll come take a look at it next week and see if there’s anything I can do to fix it. But odds are you might need a few new components.”
He shot a meaningful look at Felix, who had stepped off to the side and was doing his best to appear
innocent. “I’ll be down this way every night till then. I’ll help you close up if you don’t mind waiting around for me.”
“Oh, I’d be grateful! Now, was there something you needed?”
“Do you have any fuel cells?” Felix inquired, “Size two.”
James nodded, turning to rummage through several boxes beneath the counter. Not finding anything he moved to the next one, pushing a large, tired looking copper stock pot out of his way. He made a gleeful noise, hand plunging deep into the crate and returning with his prize clutched in his fist. “Yes, you’re in luck, I have a few here. A charger as well? I believe I have several of those around here somewhere.”
“No, I have one at home, thanks.” Felix cast a sheepish grin in Ripley’s direction. “Wasn’t planning to be out so late.”
“Well, mind you don’t stay out too much later,” James’ tone turned grim. “I’ve got no problem with your kind, of course, but this time of year riles up the crazies, you know? Those that still blame the Elves for...” he waved a weary hand toward the dome and lowered his voice, “all of this.”
James was still clutching the fuel cells. Felix, whose hand had been extended in eager anticipation, finally managed to recapture his attention, and James handed them over before continuing his dire warning. “Be careful. Last night I heard there was some kind of altercation right here in the market! I expect that sort of news from the Edge, but out in the open...” He shook his head in disbelief. “The trouble-makers grow bolder by the day.”
Unfazed and perhaps not even listening, Felix began screwing his pen back together. He took a drag and smiled, wisps of vapor escaping from between his gleaming white teeth.
Ripley automatically extended his wrist to pay. “Thanks, James.”
“No, no, don’t worry about it.” The merchant waved his hand away. “Oh my! Did you get that from my shutter?”
A large bruise was peeking out from beneath Ripley’s cuff. James reached forward to take a closer look, but Ripley jerked his arm away, tugging his sleeve down.
“It’s nothing,” he replied. “Accident.”
Felix peered at him, a question in his narrowed eyes, but Ripley offered no explanation. Instead, he turned his attention back to James, who was now ushering them out of the back of the stall. “Are you sure we can’t pay you?”
“Oh no, it’s the least I can do for your help. What’re a few fuel cells between friends, eh? And I’ll be holding you to your word! You’ll be back to fix my shutter, right?”
Ripley gave him a kind, reassuring smile. “Of course.”
“Well then, if you’ll excuse me, my wife will not be happy if she’s cooked a hot meal and it’s cold when I arrive. She thinks I talk too much!”
He chuckled as he turned and hobbled away.
“James sure is a nice guy,” Felix said with an approving nod.
Ripley glanced sideways at him. “You’re going to help me fix that shutter.”
“I was afraid you were going to say that.”
They walked a little quicker now, heading toward Ripley’s place. It wasn’t much to speak of—few of the homes were. Felix strolled along in quiet contentment, puffing away, but Ripley couldn’t get James’ warning out of his head.
Humans, Elves and Halfsies tended to maintain outwardly civil interactions. There were occasional scuffles, of course. But the Anniversary celebrations were guaranteed to lead to talking, and the talking would lead to finger-pointing, and all the pent-up resentment would be right there, right beneath the surface, waiting to boil over. Ripley had seen first-hand what could happen next.
It wasn’t pretty.
He was still preoccupied with worry as they got on the lift in his building. Unlike the quiet, smooth operation of the Sigil lifts, which were kept in exquisite repair, this one was more akin to a metal coffin. It shuddered and groaned, throwing its occupants off-kilter as it struggled upward on cables that had not been inspected in Ripley couldn’t guess how long. He shifted his weight from one side to the other as the lift jarred him, rocking its way stubbornly toward its destination.
He should have insisted that Felix go home. He shouldn’t have brought him here, not at such a volatile time.
“Hey,” Ripley tried to keep his tone light, “want to crash here tonight?”
“Oh man,” Felix grimaced as the lift jilted to the left. “I’m so glad you offered, because I wasn’t looking forward to walking those tracks after lights out. Spooky, you know?”
“Yeah. Spooky.”
Felix patted Ripley’s shoulder comfortingly, causing him to flinch.
“Hey, you okay?” Renewed concern rippled across Felix’s face. “What was James talking about before? Did you get hurt?”
“I’m fine,” insisted Ripley. “Really. I just got a little banged up.”
“How?”
“At work.”
“What happened?”
“I tripped.”
Felix’s eyebrow disappeared beneath his curly, brown locks. “Tripped?”
“Yeah,” Ripley muttered, refusing to make eye contact.
“You...tripped.” Felix pondered for a moment, then grinned. “What were you doing, staring at a pretty Vital Systems Operator?”
Ripley forced a smile and was grateful to arrive at the door of his quarters. He went to wave his wrist in front of the scanner before he noticed the tiny red light above the keypad indicating that there was already someone inside. He glanced up, for a moment wondering if he was at the wrong door. But there it was, 628, his apartment.
He looked at Felix, who had that same sparkle in his eyes that he’d had back in the Observatory.
“Unexpected guests?” Felix inquired in a whisper. “Shall we see who’s come calling?”
A few wild ideas flashed through Ripley’s mind, none of them appealing. But Felix didn’t wait for an answer. When Ripley hesitated, his companion punched in the guest access code and, with a flourish, pushed the door wide.
Inside, a Theran woman was perched casually at the foot of Ripley’s bed.
She had her knees up, slender arms clasped around them as she tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling. Long auburn hair cascaded down her back, the tilt of her head revealing delicately pointed ears. Even compared to other Therans, who were an attractive people on the whole, this woman radiated beauty.
“Willow!” Felix exclaimed, rushing forward. She rose in a single fluid motion and returned Felix’s embrace. “What are you doing here?”
She gave him a sad smile but avoided the question. “I’m sorry for letting myself in, Ripley. I thought you’d be home ages ago.”
Felix cleared his throat. “I don’t know why everyone keeps bringing that up,” he muttered. “And that doesn’t explain what you’re doing here.”
“Well,” Willow chewed at the inside of her lip, looking nervous, “I’m not really sure if—” she paused. Then she turned the question on Felix, instead. “I wasn’t expecting to see you until the Anniversary. Why are you here?”
Felix let out a grunt of mock indignation. “Well, I call that a sorry excuse for a greeting. And it hardly seems appropriate to interrogate me when I’ve just discovered you in another man’s apartment!”
Ripley had always found the pair’s playful bickering amusing. From the beginning, it had been clear that Willow and Felix were destined to be together, and any other outcome had never even crossed Ripley’s mind—nor, he assumed, hers. She’d given up a future of prestige and comfort to be with Felix.
Willow had been first in line for the security of a position on the Elder Council someday—if she had simply had the good sense not to marry a Halfsie.
Not long after, Sigil’s education committee had instituted a policy barring Halfsies from attendance at the shared school. Although the Council always talked about integration for a “more cohesive communit
y,” those were only words. Convenient words, discarded at the first hint of inconvenience.
Ripley had long suspected Willow’s father had had a hand in the sudden change—perhaps to prevent future “tragedies” like his daughter. Nero was a tyrant, plain and simple. The Council tried to keep him hidden in the shadows, but in Sanctuary, there were no shadows dark enough to hide Nero’s bigotted, outspoken views.
As Willow and Felix’s conversation died down a thick silence settled over the room. She looked tired, and Ripley wondered just how long she’d been waiting there for his return. Ripley must have missed something of the exchange, as when she spoke again it seemed as though she was continuing a thought he’d not been privy to.
“I was so excited at first. I always hoped, but I never really put much thought into it. I didn’t dream. I mean, it doesn’t happen for everyone, does it? Especially not Therans.” She took a deep breath as if bracing herself, ignoring Ripley and Felix’s befuddled looks. Apparently Felix had no more idea what she was talking about than Ripley did.
Her words were jumbled, as if she’d had a whole speech prepared but had dropped her notes and was now stumbling along in whatever order she was able to recall. “I’ve known for weeks, but your schedule has been so demanding, Felix. And I wanted to make it special, so I decided to wait. And I was going to come ask Ripley for advice, since he knows you better than anyone...so I decided to come today after my appointment—”
Felix gave an involuntary jerk, raising his hand sharply. “Appointment? What kind of appointment? Is there something wrong?”
Felix’s abrupt question seemed to startle her. “Oh!” Willow’s eyes were wide, and Ripley wondered how he had not noticed that they were also red-rimmed and puffy. It was then he realized that she wasn’t just tired.
She’d been crying.
“I’m fine, it’s just, well...I’m not sure how else to say it.”
She looked at her husband with a pleading expression that did not match her next words. “Felix, I’m pregnant.”
Both Ripley and Felix took a moment to process this news. Felix’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times, like a fish out of water, gasping for a breath that wouldn’t come. Ripley recovered first, breaking into a wide smile and smacking his friend on the shoulder.