“What makes you think it’s mine?” Hanley gave him a look as if the very thought was preposterous.
“It’s mounted on the wall in your office.”
“You knew he had the card. I’m not sure how, but you manipulated the conversation so that he would show you. Very clever, son. Also, when talking to Willow, you said you had to change the password. Did you hack into Messenger Pigeon?” Hanley threw him a sideways glance, the steel in his eyes hardening while a calculating small smile stretched on his face. “Oh, well done. You must have spoken with Willow privately through Messenger Pigeon and covered your tracks. Your characterization is actually really good, you know. The Dungeon Master was enjoyable to watch.”
“God, is there something wrong with your ability to answer simple questions?” Fillion took a sip of his Coke, leaning up against the door, and tucked a thumb into one of his pockets. “Well?”
“It doesn’t matter how I answer. You’ve already determined I am the bad guy.” Hanley gave him a serious look, placing his hands out in a gesture of surrender.
Resisting the urge to roll his eyes at his dad’s additional attempt at deflection, grasping at straws, Fillion settled for an annoyed sigh instead. Running a hand through his shortened hair, he thought for a moment, seeing if there was another angle.
“Nice attempt at payback, by the way,” Hanley said. “Except, you thought it mattered to me if they knew that their life was real or part of a game. Of course it’s a game—the first generation knew that, teaching it to their children.”
“You missed the point. They didn’t know their history.”
“I didn’t miss the point. I’m telling you it doesn’t matter,” Hanley said slowly and Fillion paused trying to understand the hidden message. Why wouldn’t it matter? His dad approached him a few days ago, sharing that he didn’t know what to do with that generation in New Eden. Was that a gimmick? Something was up, but he was determined to have his original question answered. He walked away from the door and sauntered over to the office chair and fell back, his tired body crashing against the leather as he landed heavily.
“OK, fine, it doesn’t matter. Now, is the death card yours?” He took another sip of his Coke, placing the can on the desk.
“It was the one assigned to my character, yes. Did I place it on Joel Watson? No.”
“Why is your card in New Eden?”
“How should I know? Obviously an Element took it from me.”
An Element? Fillion paused for a moment, and then asked, “They held onto a card for over twenty-five years?” He shook his head. “Did you forget to look both ways before you crossed the road to piss someone off?”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Hanley said, crossing his arms over his chest.
Fillion was ready to tell his dad exactly how he felt about the irony in that particular statement when Hanley launched back in.
“You are asking the wrong question. A Gamemaster doesn’t ask the obvious. He ponders the hidden.” Hanley walked over and stood in front of him. “It will be interesting to see how the community responds to this situation. If they were a colony on Mars, how would they deal with an offense against The Code? Will they report a murder or take care of the business themselves? So far, there is no report, so I can’t act on anything. The only report I have is a death certificate stating that Joel Watson died of a heart attack.”
Fillion’s eye widened. “These are real people. Joel Watson really died. I’m not interested in your boring history lesson on the art of gaming. God, you talk about these people like they’re works of fiction, images in your head popping out and playing right before your eyes. You’re sick!” He stood up and began walking toward the door again, too angry to continue any further conversation with his dad.
Hanley began walking after him and then froze, quickly turning on his Cranium, gaining Fillion’s attention. His dad let down the privacy screen and allowed him to read the typed message.
The Aether is alive and ready for duty.
“What’s your master plan now, especially because Leaf is no longer in The Legacy? I know a guy who knows a guy who can create a new identity for the Watson family,” Fillion said flatly.
“Are you offering your services, criminal? You have a business up and running?”
“Like I’d tell you,” he spat. “Anything I do would be for Leaf, Willow, and Laurel. Not you.”
“The little one is alive, too?”
Fillion didn’t answer, instead taking another nonchalant sip of his Coke.
Hanely’s face remained passive, and then he said, “Let’s wait and see if he is the exchange tomorrow.”
Fillion reached the door, and waited for Hanley to give security clearance, too tired to continue this conversation. “I need to get some sleep.”
“Your shift isn’t over,” Hanley said dryly, following close behind him.
“I quit.” Fillion cast his dad an angry look.
“You can’t quit, I already fired you. You were just on two-week notice.”
“Do you plan on overriding and erasing the video feed, Hanley?” Fillion said, eyebrows raised. “Or would you like me to take care of it?” He waved his can of Coke in front of his dad’s face.
“Definitely not. I’ve got it.”
Hanley placed his thumb on the reader and the door clicked open. Fillion turned to leave, and walked through the door when he heard his dad call his name. Turning around, he looked at him wearily while holding the heavy metal door ajar.
“Where did Leaf and Willow get the notion to call you Dungeon Master? Do they think you are a type of Gamemaster for New Eden?”
“Who cares,” Fillion muttered, turning around.
“I do. I’m curious what they think of the first stranger they met, and perhaps strangers in general. Was Dungeon Master your idea or theirs?” Hanley asked conversationally.
“I’ll file my complete report when I’m done participating in your experimental game for ninety days. Until then, patience Grasshopper,” Fillion said with a cocky smile. Finally, he had a morsel of power against his dad.
Fillion was about to walk away, then paused. “I’m curious about something,” he said. “Why did mom and Joel break off their engagement?”
“Who told you about that?” Hanley asked with rounded eyes.
“What happened?” Fillion placed one of his shoes in the path of the door along the frame to keep it from locking, before walking over to his dad with his arms crossed. “Either you tell me or I’ll find out through other means. So be honest. I’ll figure it out.”
“Yes, Della and Joel were engaged. They had been for a few years, and then Della’s brother died in an accident while mountain climbing with Joel. Joel never forgave himself for Dylan’s death, and he called off the engagement.” Hanley stretched his jaw, his nervous tick alerting Fillion, and he felt a chill climb up his back.
“Why did she marry you?”
“We loved each other, why else? I’m not a villain, despite your ideas and your claims. I don’t make women marry me against their will.” Hanley shook his head, moving out of the way as Fillion walked past him. “See you in the morning, son. Great work.”
He refused to give his dad the satisfaction of a response. Eyes straight ahead, Fillion breezed past him and into the hallway, grabbing his shoe along the way.
He walked into his room a few minutes later, and picked up a guitar a scientist at N.E.T. was allowing him to borrow through the morning. He was too worked up to sleep just yet. His mind was actively processing all the new information and feelings.
In eight hours he would enter New Eden and face his past and his future. Strumming his sister’s favorite song in the dark, Fillion closed his eyes. The music washed over him, and he felt his muscles relax. He changed songs, one he enjoyed by CyberBlack, picking the main riff. Clearing his voice, he sang quietly to the shadows.
He was still in an exposed place, trying hard to put away the image of Willow giving him her heart. Nobody had ever given him a toke
n of their affection before—well, not sincerely at least—and it terrified him. She was so innocent, and so different compared to all the girls he knew. This truth made him feel protective, and he rolled his eyes at his corny and cliché thoughts. “God, I’m so lame,” he whispered to the darkness.
Nevertheless, his pulse pounded audibly in his ears, blocking out the sounds of the guitar. Their situation was impossible, doomed from the start. And yet, he wanted to break his rule, engaging with feminine disaster rather than just flirting with it. Self-control was definitely in order. As his dad said, he needed to keep his head on straight.
It was time to shift his attention and redirect his thoughts. His first active duty as an imprisoned soldier was to get to the bottom of why death certificates were issued from New Eden for the Watson children six years ago, one year after The Elements stopped attending communication meetings with Hanley and John, and two years after Claire had died.
He placed the guitar back in the hard case, took his shirt off, and then jumped onto the bed, landing on his back. The makeover team would arrive in five hours. With a shaky breath, Fillion placed his hands behind his head, and stared at the blackened ceiling until he fell asleep.
***
I have made a discovery since living out here and it’s that you never appreciate things like showers until you have to do the following:
#1 find a wash basin of some kind that you can bend your head into.
#2 make sure you have enough water (again this might be hard if you have no well, if this is the case follow my suggestions for getting water on the last post)
#3 heat some water (again this might be hard, also you might want to watch the temps a bit closer than with dishes or clothes) I am sure you don’t want the “OH MY GOD IT’S HOT” water.
#4 if you have long hair (anything past your shoulders) grab a partner as it is a team effort.
#5 pour your water into the basin
#6 pour COLD water into the basin as I’m sure it is too hot
#7 bend over the basin getting as much of your hair into the water as you can
#8 have your partner pour water over our head (watch the temps as hot for your scalp is different than hot for your hands)
#9 take hair out of water
#10 soap up hair (note you will be dripping water)
#11 put hair back in basin
#12 again have your partner pour water over your head
#13 Ring out water
Repeat for conditioner or dry
—Rivenfae Wolf, “How to wash your hair on the homestead (sans shower),” Wolf Woods, November 10, 2010 *
***
A soft clang woke Oaklee from the few hours of sleep she had received. She sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes while pulling her feet out from beneath the blankets and over the bed’s edge. Yawning, she jumped when the door opened, revealing Ember who carried a large pot, steam billowing out over her flushed face. Oaklee watched Ember pour the contents into a large copper basin in the middle of her floor.
“A bath?” Oaklee asked in a sleepy haze.
“Yes. I am giving you a good scrub this morning.” She gave Oaklee a kind smile before walking out the door. Ember returned a minute later with another large pot of hot water. “I have a pot of cold water outside to adjust the temperature. I shall return shortly.”
Oaklee stood up from her bed, walking out of her bedroom and into the lavatory. After using the composter, she returned to find Ember sprinkling lavender buds and rose petals in the water.
“I am confused, My Lady. Did you say I was receiving a scrub?”
“Yes. This is a big day for you. And please, call me Ember.”
“My intended is not leaving for three months. Perhaps it should be the other way around, Ember.”
“Nonsense. I am not the first person the Outside world will see inside the walls of New Eden.”
Ember arched an eyebrow at her and Oaklee’s eyes widened.
“I had not thought of that part. I am to welcome the Outsider and escort them into New Eden?” Oaklee slowly sat back on her bed.
“Leaf did not explain that part? Silly man. Yes, your role is to see a member of New Eden depart and welcome his replacement.”
“Of course. I only hope I am not an emotional catastrophe.” Oaklee gave Ember a lopsided grin.
“Are you ready?”
Oaklee stood up, and removed her nightgown and shift, feeling shy at first, and then slipped into the copper basin after Ember added enough cold water to make the temperature bearable. Women often bathed together once a week at The Waters, but Oaklee still felt unsure of herself as her body matured. Closing her eyes, she sank into the warm depths, her knees protruding awkwardly. The water felt glorious.
“Is this water from the pump well?”
“No, it is from The Waters. I wanted you to enjoy a mineral bath. Leaf heated the water more at the Great Hall before bringing the pots back.” Ember gave her a full grin, and Oaklee knew Ember appreciated the joy Oaklee was receiving from their thoughtful gift.
“Ember, you are next. I shall not tarry long so you may enjoy the water as well.”
“I already enjoyed a soak,” Ember said with a slow blush.
“Oh, I see.” Oaklee watched the young woman, curious as to her response.
“Sit up a little more and I shall scrub your back.”
Ember placed a bar of soap in her hands, wetting it in the copper tub. Leaning forward, Oaklee felt the bar of soap on her back, followed by the hemp scrubbing rag. Ember picked up Oaklee’s limbs gently, scrubbing them as she did her back, and then handed Oaklee the bar of lavender soap and the rag, allowing her to finish up.
“Ready for your hair?”
Oaklee nodded and Ember came forward with a pitcher of warm water, dumping it over her head. She placed a bar of hair soap into Oaklee’s hands, a special remedy from the herbalist, and then began scrubbing her scalp, lathering her hair as she did so.
“Nothing feels as grand as when someone washes your hair,” Oaklee murmured.
Ember giggled in response, continuing to scrub and to lather. Oaklee noted another pitcher of water in Ember’s hands, closing her eyes as the soapy liquid fell over her face. The smell of lavender wafted as Ember continued to pour fresh water over her head.
“You are officially clean,” Ember said in triumph. “Enjoy a few more minutes and then we shall finish with more luxury items from the herbalist.” Ember winked as she walked out the door.
Oaklee spilled her newly clean hair over the edge of the basin, and lowered herself once again into the water, enjoying the warmth of both the bath and Ember’s unexpected gesture. It had been ages since she had a private bath, and the feeling was too wonderful for words.
Relaxing, her thoughts flitted around as the aroma drugged her mind. She began to think of Fillion who mysteriously hid behind a cloak. Closing her eyes, she thought of his voice as he confessed his hope that one day she would become fond of him. The sad and gentle tones made her cast away any and all offenses, and she became perplexed with the brokenness in his request. Why lower himself before her? Did he not have anyone else who could give him something to hope for as he faced death? Was this the pain he carried?
She did not regret her choice in gifting him her heart. Oaklee never planned to marry, a position and declaration Leaf did not understand. And she did not cheapen herself with her gesture, despite her brother’s fear. Still, what was happening to her? She could not explain these strange feelings. It was beyond absurd, yet made perfect sense somewhere deep inside of her. Perhaps it was mere infatuation with the Outside world. She sighed mournfully, and turned her head toward her bedroom door while lost in her thoughts.
“If I did not know any better, I would think you were in love, such a look on your face,” Ember said as she walked back in.
Oaklee immediately warmed and turned away, gathering her runaway thoughts. She was not in love. She was confused, and her empathy could not help but reach out and comfort a
nother’s sorrow and honor another’s sacrifice.
“It is good that you know better,” Oaklee said quickly.
“Poor Coal. It is a shame he cannot see the truth.”
“What truth?”
“You two could never be together the way he wishes.”
Ember helped Oaklee out of the water, handing her a towel as she did so.
“Is there another way?” Oaklee was convinced Coal was incapable of behaving differently toward her, instead remaining obsessed with the notion of courtship.
Ember gave her a conspiratorial smile before pulling a bottle of lotion out from a basket, remaining silent on the subject. She opened up the stopper and both leaned forward to sniff the rich and intoxicating scent of lavender.
“The herbalist believes lavender suits you. I think I agree with her.”
“What does the herbalist believe suits you?” Oaklee said, giving her a playful smile.
“Cinnamon and clove.” Ember blushed again secretively, before pulling on Oaklee’s hand, placing lotion on her palm. “I shall apply the lotion on your back and shoulders. You work on your arms and torso.”
Ember placed a dollop of the lotion into her hand, and rubbed it into Oaklee’s back like an older sister, as if she was preparing her for a wedding. This made her heart still, and she turned around to peer at Ember curiously.
“There is something going on. The only time a woman has treatments such as this is on her wedding day.”
“Yes, I suppose that is true,” Ember said, evading her questions and comments once again as she continued to rub lotion on Oaklee’s back.
“Am I getting married?” Oaklee froze, hearing her voice reach an octave higher than normal. This made Ember laugh.
“No, you are not getting married,” Ember reassured, continuing to laugh.
Oaklee turned and then leaned forward, inhaling Ember’s skin. Her eyes widened upon smelling traces of spice and she whipped her head back to stare at the Daughter of Fire.
“Did you get married?”
A warmth blushed across Ember’s face again.
Legacy (The Biodome Chronicles) Page 35