by R. C. Lewis
If they’re not dead.
Tiav thinks it over for a solid minute, and I force myself to wait calmly, not struggling. That’s not easy, because I’m definitely not used to being this close to him, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.
Finally he decides. “Don’t make me regret it.”
He lets go, and I continue toward the portal again, taking it a little slower and willing my brothers to show themselves. Just one of them. Just one glimpse. They can’t be dead. I can’t have blown it like this, in such a small moment of distraction.
A boy succeeded in making Liddi Jantzen laugh, leading to the utter destruction of everyone who means anything to her—
Thinking like that isn’t helping, so I shut it down.
Less than halfway to the portal, a flash of movement draws my eye to a stand of trees off to the left. Durant is there, his posture uneasy, but he waves before fading away.
He’s alive.
I turn to Tiav, looking for his reaction. There isn’t one. He’s been keeping an eye on me and the portal the whole time. He didn’t see Durant at all.
It doesn’t matter. The important thing is that my momentary slip didn’t cost my brothers their lives. My laugh could’ve been deadly, but it wasn’t. The implant’s listening for more than a laugh. A single word might still be enough.
I have to be more careful. I can’t slip again. Not once.
Not ever.
Liddi didn’t make it to the new club in Edgewick opening night, but when she live-commed Reb later, he said it was only a soft opening anyway. The real opening was in a few days. Still annoyed with her brothers for making the decision for her, she told Reb she’d be there.
The boys weren’t happy, Emil especially. Luko even showed up to talk her out of it. When she reminded him that she had only a few years left to have any kind of fun before taking over the largest, most important corporation in the Seven Points, his argument lost its fire.
She got her way. As usual.
And she lived to regret it.
The club had half the flair of Syncopy, and Syncopy wasn’t even her favorite. Tired music, lighting effects that the better clubs had tried and given up a year ago, and Liddi’s only company was Reb Vester. Him and about a hundred other people who wanted an excuse to become her new best friend. She hated retreating to the Exclusive Zone on the upper level, but eventually she had to have some breathing room.
“There you are,” Reb said, a drink in each hand. “Come on, let’s get down there and dance again.”
He was a good dancer, but it wasn’t any fun with people constantly sidling up to offer phony compliments or ask inane questions. It made Liddi want to feign clumsiness and accidentally throw an elbow toward their noses.
“Sorry, I think I’d better get home,” she said. “My brothers were against me coming in the first place, so the least I can do is get back before morning.”
Reb set his drinks down and took both her hands in his. They were still slick with condensation from the glasses. Less than pleasant. “Liddi, those brothers of yours want to keep you locked up. They don’t want you to have a life, so who cares what they say?”
She pulled her hands back, wiping them slightly on her skirt. “I do. Yeah, they’re annoying and overprotective sometimes, but…they’re my brothers. They have their reasons. And I want to go home now.”
“Okay, I get it. Let’s go.”
It took strategic maneuvering that’d do the military grunts on Banak proud, but they finally got out of the club. Leaving the music behind felt good, except it was replaced by a buzzing swarm of vid-cams. Not a big deal, since once they were in the hovercar, they’d leave them behind, too.
“Hey, Liddi, hold up a second.”
She stopped and turned to Reb. He took her face in his hands and kissed her.
His lips were too wet, he held her head too tight, the buzz of the vid-cams turned into a roar as more swarmed to catch the action, and there was absolutely nothing romantic about it at all.
Liddi pushed him away and glared at him for two seconds before deciding she couldn’t trust her voice, because even with her glare, he was grinning at her. Without a word, she strode to a for-hire hovercar and got in. Her brothers definitely wouldn’t mind if she spent the credits, and there was no way she was spending two hours alone with Reb after that.
As she rode toward the borders of Edgewick, a few frustrated tears fell. Her first kiss would be seen by millions on a media-cast. They’d probably think her storming off was staged for more attention. Every moment would be analyzed and argued about. No one would care about the truth, except her brothers, and she’d have to keep them from getting arrested for killing Reb Vester.
Just like everything else, Liddi couldn’t get it right, and she couldn’t have it to herself.
THE NEXT DAY, TIAV IS unusually quiet, nearly as silent as I am. He’s got to be puzzling out what happened last night, trying to make sense of why I panicked and why I calmed back down. I stare at the keypad trying to think of something safe to say while he’s probably doing the same thing.
“You said people could die if you do something wrong,” he finally says. “You almost did something wrong last night. Because you laughed?”
I nod. Pretty much, that’s it.
“Are you worried about more people breaking through from the Lost Points? Like an invasion?”
Not remotely. The only people with any chance of coming through are my brothers. At least, there’d better be a chance of that. Given how awful Durant looked last night, though, I need to make some progress. Soon.
Tiav sits back with a frustrated sigh. At least he’s sitting next to me again. “You realize this makes no sense, don’t you? And every day it makes even less sense?”
I swipe through my word bank for a word I nearly have memorized, but Tiav gently takes my wrist to stop me.
“Don’t go hunting for ‘sorry.’ I already know you are. You’ll tell me when you can tell me?”
I hope so. I hope it’ll get to the point where I can, because Tiav sounds almost as sad as he does frustrated. My heart beats in equal frustration, the pulse of it warming against his palm where he still holds my wrist. His touch lingers a moment longer before releasing.
“I should tell you something. Or ask—I don’t know. It’s something I’ve thought about for a long time, before you came. That maybe we’ve kept the Lost Points closed off from us for too long. Maybe both sides are missing out on something. The Aelo back then said it wouldn’t be forever, but then it started feeling like nothing would ever change it. Until you showed up.”
That’s a pretty big proposition. Tiav has to know that, too. I imagine what would happen if the Ferinnes revealed themselves to the Seven Points after so many centuries apart.
The Jantzen girl finally had something to show at this year’s Tech Reveal—an entire planet. Turns out those children’s stories about Ferri are true, sort of. In other news, mass hysteria has broken out pretty much everywhere as deformed friends of the Ferinnes have cropped up throughout the Seven Points.
No, the Points could cope with the idea of aliens, if handled properly. I only freaked out a little, nowhere near hysteria. There would be bigger problems, though. Like the conduits. I still can’t tell if the people here would be glad we found a way to get around without bothering their precious Khua. Or if they would take our (admittedly failing) attempts at Khua substitutes as a major offense.
Actually, I think I know the answer to that, at least for a certain segment of the population.
“Ag-nack wood naht lyke. May-bee yoo too.”
“I don’t know. If they came up with you, Sampati at least can’t be as bad as they say.”
His smile holds a teasing hint of mischief I haven’t seen before, and I turn back to the computer as heat blooms in my cheeks.
He made me blush. Something Reb Vester on his best day can’t dream of accomplishing.
I have a sudden urge to know how long until lunch, but
as usual, the symbols of the Ferinne clock make no sense. That’s really starting to annoy me. And it shows, because Tiav sees exactly what I’m thinking.
“Want me to explain the clocks?”
No, I want one that’ll make sense to me, that I won’t have to decode and decipher every time I look at it. Explaining it in words will take forever. “Want draw.”
“That’s easy enough.” He shows me how to switch to a blank screen that’ll let me draw on it.
I draw a simple landscape with a sun at sunrise, midday, and sunset. Above each position, I add a clock face with tick marks and the two indicators in the approximate place for that time of day. Underneath, I draw the landscape again, this time with the three moons. It’s not exactly accurate, since they don’t all orbit at the same rate, but I draw them similar to the sun’s positions anyway, showing how the clock face cycles again overnight.
“I’ve seen something like that in old artwork. Different though. We probably stopped using them about the same time your people stopped writing.”
“Mayk mye-sellf.”
“Of course, Sampati, land of the technologists. You can put together any device you want in about five minutes, right?”
If only he knew. But a clock is simple enough. A clock is innocuous, too. A clock is a good excuse to find out how technology around here works without getting myself in more Khua-related trouble. Maybe a little tech focus will spark an idea for helping my brothers.
I need something to work on.
“Okay, I know a shop that should have whatever you need. Let’s go.”
He stands and guides me out the door first with a hand at the small of my back. Again, his touch lingers maybe a second longer than it has to. I don’t mind. There’s something comfortable about it.
The shop Tiav mentioned is just down the street, and he was right. It has everything I need. Parts for a Ferinne wristwatch with its symbolic readout, first of all. But also various shapes and sizes of casings and display screens. Everything looks different from how it would back home, but most still make sense when I look at them. Tiav only has to tell me the purpose of a couple that are too small for me to see functional detail.
Just as I finish gathering the components, I freeze. I don’t have a single credit to my name in this world. Tiav just offers one of his easy smiles and takes everything from me, setting it on the counter for the shopkeeper to tally.
“My treat,” he says.
He’s been “treating” me all along. The only reason I haven’t starved is because Tiav and Shiin took me in immediately. Fed me, gave me extra clothes. Given where they live, I guess it’s nothing they can’t manage, but this is the first time it’s occurred to me that I’m a financial burden to them.
After years of having designer clothes sent free of charge and dinners comped at the hottest restaurants, you’d think Liddi Jantzen would be used to such treatment.
But my mental media-cast lies. It’s not the same. I never asked for those clothes, and more than once I tried to pay for dinners. Everyone gave me things because they wanted the prestige of having my name attached. Tiav and his mother have taken care of me because I needed help. Because they’re good, charitable people. Even when I don’t deserve it, when I’ve broken their laws and may very well do it again.
That thought sets the guilt twisting in my bones again, but something else loosens it, just a little. Tiav buying these things so I can build a timepiece that makes sense to me, that’s not charity. That’s something else.
Like a real gift.
We get back to the office in the Nyum, lay everything out on the desk, and get to work. Tiav starts by drawing a more careful clock face on the wallscreen, noting I’ll need a different arrangement of tick marks than I drew on my sketch. That makes sense. Different planets have different day lengths due to rotation. We always have to adjust when we travel to other Points, and it’s certainly one of several reasons I haven’t slept too well since I arrived.
Once I figure out how the tick marks should be, Tiav has me draw it exactly how I want it on the desk. I give it a blue background, black tick marks, and two silver indicators for the hour and minute. He shows me how to label the indicators as “moveable” with an anchor point in the center.
“Then just slide the drawing to—never mind.” He stops because the face is already showing up on the tiny round display screen. “You got it.”
I’m not sure exactly how I did it. I noticed the underside of the screen had what looked like a data receiver and used one of the tools Tiav gave me to activate it, then slid the drawing to a part of the computer display that my gut said meant transmit.
That sounds good in retrospect, but I still don’t know how I recognized the data receiver. The Ferinne technology is an odd mix of metallic and crystalline parts like I’ve never seen, and I’ve seen all kinds of technology in the workshop back home. But when I looked at the back of the display under the magnifier, the tiny little bits in that area seemed like they could only do one thing that made sense. Receive data.
Something making sense. That’s a new feeling.
I keep following what makes sense, connecting the regular chronometer to the display in a way that tells the indicators how to move. That takes some trial and error, but I get it eventually. I find one of the standard watch pieces that I’m pretty sure uplinks to some kind of central computer clock to coordinate the time, and I get that incorporated, too. Once that’s done, it’s just a matter of fitting everything into the casing and attaching a wristband.
It’s finished, so I put it on. I can see that we’re just past midday. As soon as I get used to the slight differences in hour and day measurements, I’ll be able to estimate how long I’ve been doing something or how long I have until something is finished.
Once again, Liddi Jantzen single-handedly set a fashion trend, bringing back wristwatches, which have been out of style for, what? Nearly a century?
Forget fashion. This is something I made, and it works. I catch my reflection in the surface of the desk. A tiny smile plays on my lips.
“There’s something I’ve always wondered,” Tiav says. “Is it true that whichever of the Lost Points you’re from, that dictates what you have to do with your life? Like because you’re from Sampati, you have to be a technologist?”
Yes, I have to be, but that’s not why. I sweep the drawing program off the desk so Tiav can bring the keypad back. This’ll take a while. I keep making the computer read parts back to me to remember where I am, to make sure it sounds close enough.
“Dont haff too. Eetch haz strawng theeng, muh-jore-ih-tee. But uh-ther theengs, kan goe uh-ther poynts.”
“So there are things like bakers and merchants on Sampati, or computer technicians on Erkir. Makes sense. What’s that look for?”
I’ve been glaring at the keypad, because I paid attention to my new watch while I pieced together my explanation. It took ages to create an inelegant, incomplete statement. These broken bits of language are so much work for so little, and I’m sick of it.
“Sownd stoo-pid.”
Tiav puts his hand on mine, startling with the surge of warmth that comes with it. This time I notice his hand isn’t rough like Kalkig’s or shockingly soft like Jahmari’s. Somewhere in-between.
“I know you are nothing close to stupid, Liddi.” The confidence in his voice draws my eyes to his. I knew they were brown, like mine, but now I notice they’re a more golden shade. “Maybe it’s not ideal, and I know you hate how long it takes, but it’s what we’ve got.”
It is, and so long as Minali effectively has my throat tied off, it’s all I’m going to get. Instead of taking my hand back to write some more, I use my right. This one is short enough.
“Moor tek. Pleez?”
He smiles and squeezes my hand. “Okay, sure. I’ll see what I can teach you, but I’m no technologist.”
Neither am I, really. I’ll learn whatever he can give me. Maybe whatever my brothers are doing on their side will s
olve everything. But maybe it won’t.
I’m not going to leave that to chance.
We keep working on technological things, building some gadgets and taking others apart. Tiav continues to be surprised when I manage things without being able to read, and sometimes without waiting for him to explain. I can’t figure out the words to make him understand, probably because I don’t understand, either. I just know that the way Ferinne technology is designed flows for me. It does what I want it to do, like it knows, the way I always wished my projects would work.
I don’t know whether I’m making progress. There’s something about the crystalline components we work with. The way they align energy patterns. Since the Khua-spires are made of crystal, too, there might be a useful connection there, something that can help free my brothers. Even if I’m wrong about that, the experience of things making sense and working tickles my brain. I have to believe if I keep chasing that feeling, eventually the right idea will spark. My extreme focus on building assorted gadgets must seem strange to Tiav, but he doesn’t question it. If anything, his smiles and patience hint that he finds it amusing with a side of fascinating.
At the end of another day of nonstop tinkering, I’m ready to keep going for a few more hours like we have the past few nights. Tiav has other ideas, because he clears the screen and picks up my tools.
“Jahmari once told me an old Crimna saying about obsession,” he says, tucking the tools away. “It’s fine to feed one, as long as you starve it once in a while, too.”
I raise my eyebrows. That kind of talk would make me hungry, except we just ate.
“It’s called taking a break. And I’ll apologize in advance, because it means another ride in a streamer.”
That changes my expression in a hurry. The only interest I have in streamers is taking one apart to see how it works.