by A. J. Ross
He went home. As soon as he walked into the house, his mouth watered. Dinner was almost ready and it smelled wonderful. He walked into the kitchen to see his mother standing at the stove.
“Hey ma,” he said, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek.
“Hey,” she replied cheerfully, “How was school?”
Lincoln shrugged. “It was okay. Same old.”
Lincoln was happy to see his mother in a good mood. He never knew from day to day which woman he would come home to, and there were only two options. There was the pleasant and tranquil one that was standing before him today, and then there was the miserable, volatile one that would appear every time there was any change in the normal routine. Even small changes, like when he would forget to take the garbage out. He would find her standing in front of the trash can, staring at it as if it were broken.
He sat across from her in the dining room of their small house. All the homes in the colonies were the same. Before the arrival of humans on Graiis twenty-seven years ago, the Grii had built a home for each person in designated areas outside of their cities. The homes were well-built, but not at all luxurious, and included only what was necessary for a family of three. Each one sat on an acre of land, and included two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, a living room, and a dining room.
Apart from a few sets of twins, all families on Graiis had only one child. Immediately after giving birth, the woman’s uterus was removed to maintain the population. Graiis was a small planet of about seventy million Griicians, and now one million humans spread comfortably on the two landmasses surrounded by deep blue waters.
Lincoln asked his mother how her day had been, and she spoke lightly about her fabric shop as if she didn’t have a care in the world. She discussed patterns, customers, and talked about the gossip she heard from the other women in the market district. Lincoln let himself relax. He listened and offered feedback enthusiastically, having learned to make the most of his mother’s happy moments.
He examined her as she spoke. His eyes rested on her pale, frail hand as it moved the food on her plate from one spot to another with her fork. Her once perfect ivory skin was now littered with creases. Her cheeks were slightly sunken in, and there were large patches of gray hair surrounding her face. She looked old.
Lincoln knew she would miss meals when she was depressed, but this was the first time he noticed the effects. He tried to quell the guilt slowly rising within him, feeling at least somewhat responsible for the worries that caused her to age so quickly after the death of his father.
He hated that she was so dependent on him, and the fact that he always had to lie to her about where he had been and what he had been doing. As far as he was concerned, lying was the only way to protect her. If she knew about his promiscuous behavior after school, it would probably send her into another bout of depression, blaming herself for his apparent “lack of morals.” If lies were all he needed to keep her stable, then they were necessary. Though, not necessarily an excuse for his deliberate active avoidance whenever he had bad days. Seeing her this way reminded him how much she still needed him.
Lincoln stood against the wall of the small office-like building where the HLEC met. The first sun had come into the sky with blazing clarity, so he made sure to stand on the side of the building opposite the sun. He had skipped school so he could be at the council's headquarters long before anyone else. According to his friend Wash, they had a meeting that morning, so Mr. Arthur, the head of the council, would no doubt be there at least a half hour early.
As he waited in the warm air of morning, he thought about where he was. His father had been in this place many times. Many of the decisions that impacted Lincoln’s life, from his name, to the age he could marry, had been decided within the walls of that very building.
He perked up to the sound of a So-Mo approaching. This had been the best idea to ever come from the council. He smirked. His friend Shang had perfected it just last year, and Grisian approved it. The So-mo’s were simple solar powered motor bikes. On days like today, when the first sun was her most flamboyant, you could easily reach speeds of 120-150mph. The second sun was different, and the bikes wouldn’t go much faster than 80-90mph. Still, a welcomed upgrade from the bull horses, and he wanted one.
Raymond dismounted the bike, and Lincoln stayed put on the side of the building, out of view. As Raymond approached, Lincoln addressed him in a low voice, “Nice bike.”
Raymond jumped at the sound. He looked in the direction of the voice to see Lincoln emerging from the shadows on the side of the building.
“Mr. Wolfe,” he said with a warm smile.
“Good morning, sir.”
Raymond held out a hand to Lincoln. When they shook, Raymond pulled him into a brisk embrace. After letting go, he eyeballed him from feet to face. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d almost mistake you for a man,” he said jokingly. “What brings you here?”
“I was wondering if you could help me with something,” Lincoln said.
Raymond glanced at his watch. “Well, I’ve got a few minutes before the other council members start to pour in. Let’s go inside.”
He opened the door, and Lincoln followed him into the main meeting room. There was a large round table with twenty-four seats around it. Raymond sat at what could be considered the head of the table, if not for the fact it was round.
Lincoln smirked, “King Arthur,” he said as he took a seat near his teacher.
Raymond smirked, “. . .and in search of a ‘Lancelot.’”
Lincoln hung his head. He had tried to join the council three years ago, but his mother insisted he finish school. At the time, with the death of his father like a fresh wound cut deeply into both their lives, he didn’t have the strength to argue with her.
He shrugged his shoulders, “You already have a Lancelot. You have Logan.”
Mr. Arthur smiled. “Agreed. Maybe that was just my way of flirting with you,” he said, shooting him a sideways glance.
Lincoln’s eyes widened and he drew in a deep breath. “Actually,” he said, his cheeks flooded with color, “I think I’m the one that needs to be flirting with you.”
“My god,” Raymond said. “What have you done?”
Lincoln laughed. “I haven’t done anything, yet. I just . . . I need your help.”
Raymond let the lightness fall from his face, and looked at Lincoln with concerned eyes. “What do you need Mr. Wolfe?”
This was the hard part. Lincoln felt like he was fourteen again, cowering under the superiority of Mr. Arthur’s judgment, especially when measured against his own. Raymond had a way of stripping him of all conviction within moments with just one well-placed statement or question.
“Well,” he said, “I wanted to talk to you about . . . possibly obtaining Griician citizenship.”
Raymond nodded, “Okay. So what are you trying to do?”
“Do?” Lincoln repeated.
“Yeah. What do you need it for? Are you trying to join Grisian’s administration? Are you planning to go off planet?”
“Not exactly,” he replied sheepishly.
Raymond was silent for several moments and his eyes bore into Lincoln.
The interrogatory feel of the conversation was much worse than Lincoln remembered, yet, exactly as he remembered. He kept his eyes low on the table in front of him. He may as well have been sitting in a single chair, below a single light, in the middle of a small dark room. Raymond still wasn’t speaking, and Lincoln couldn’t bear the thought of sitting in silence with him until the other council members arrived. He couldn’t afford to miss his opportunity. It was time to come clean. His eyes met Raymond’s. “I want to marry Braii.”
Raymond brow furrowed. “The translator?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You can’t petition for her Wolfe, you’re not of age,” he stated dismissively.
“I understand the laws,” Lincoln replied. Just that quickly his fear was gone. His eyes met his t
eacher's, and he held his gaze, determined not to cheapen the validity of his request.
Raymond realized, “That’s why you want citizenship?”
Lincoln shook his head, “No sir. That’s why I need citizenship. Will you help me get it?”
Raymond sighed heavily. He leaned back in his chair and was thoughtful. On one hand, Lincoln had always had a propensity for romantics, be it life or love. Of all the boys Raymond mentored through the years, Lincoln was the only one who had no interest in pursuing anything attainable. If there were nine possible things and just one impossible one, Lincoln would wear himself out crashing into the one, while whining about life’s injustices. Though Raymond realized this, he also knew Lincoln would not stop either way.
“I’ll get you your citizenship Mr. Wolfe,” he said finally, “but on one condition.”
Lincoln's heart began to beat again, and he smiled as his face flooded with relief. He knew exactly what the condition would be, and he was ready for it. “Yes sir.”
TWO
Welcome, not Welcomed
Lincoln walked along the road with his eyes focused on the ground below him. He took the road to Kymurii at a slow but steady pace. The sky was clear and blue, and the first sun did not have her usual intensity as she rose slowly to claim her position in the morning sky. He felt its gentle, warm rays on his face and chest as he walked.
His mind was busy. He had spent the last night creating, then recreating, writing then rewriting his petition for Braii. His bedroom floor was a mess of balled up pages with words that felt either too confident or too weak. After finally managing to write something that wasn’t a total embarrassment, he rehearsed it in front of the bathroom mirror over and over. If I know it well enough, he thought to himself, I won’t stutter.
He thought about Braii, and wondered if she remembered him. If she did, in what way did she remember him? In his memory she was perfect; the total opposite of himself. Embarrassment was tied to almost every one of his childhood memories. He had no confidence and could barely form one sentence without stuttering. A part of him wished he had not let so much distance and time come between them. If Wash, Logan, and the council were having meetings in the palace, perhaps she wondered where he was. Or worse, maybe she didn’t. Maybe their interactions were not significant to her.
When he arrived at the gate, the guard requested his clearance. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ID he had recently been issued, thanks to Raymond. When the female guard saw it, the light in her chest began to glow yellow. A Griician ID in the hands of a human was extremely rare. After she scanned it with a small device, she looked over to the other guard and nodded.
There was the sound of grinding gears for a few seconds, then the fifteen-meter doors in front of him began to separate. The doors were egg-shell colored, made of stone, and embossed with bull horses and signs of various tribes and Griician markings. The carvings were black, as was the top and bottom meters of the gate. They were a shiny but distressed black, as if they had been colored many years ago and recently re-glazed.
He stepped through the massive doors, and his eyes looked slowly from the far left to the far right of the vast Crystal City Kymurii. He had forgotten just how spectacular it was. The trademark glass houses of the Grii, filled with hard working warrior women living their daily lives. The women would stop what they were doing, whether cleaning, cooking, teaching their little ones, or tending to their gardens, and watch him as he passed through their city on the way to Grisian’s palace. The city was full of life, but with an air of sterility and seriousness. The trees and bushes were all shaped perfectly. All the leaves were a rich chocolate color or deep golden yellow, and the flowers were either dark red, purple, blue or black. There were no marks or prints on any of the glass walls, no waste on anyone’s property or on the roads. Even the women inside their houses moved with grace and purpose as if they were part of some well-oiled invisible machine.
Lincoln’s steps guided him. He hadn’t forgotten where the palace was, and he felt himself growing smaller and smaller with each step he took toward the colossal structure. There were several other men entering or exiting as he walked along the pathway.
When he entered the outer gate, one of the servants greeted him, and instructed him to follow her. They went into a room filled with at least fifty other men, all waiting to petition Grisian for Braii. The Griician woman took a print reader from a desk which sat at the front of the room, and told Lincoln to lay his palm flat against it. He obeyed. His name and date of birth appeared in the air, but discreetly between him and the woman. She looked at him and her chest turned the same color yellow as the guard who had allowed him inside of the gate.
He started to feel nervous. He thought to himself, What if citizenship isn’t enough? What if they still won’t see me because of my age? What if they consider my actions as breaking the rules? What if they send me away, and everything I’ve done will have been for nothing?
The woman instructed him to sit. He was relieved as he went to the back of the room and found a seat. As he waited for his name to be called, he started to pay attention to the men who were coming and going. They were all in fact men. He watched their faces as they went into the other room, beaming with great optimism, only to return minutes later with solemn eyes and fallen countenance. Grisian was rejecting them on the spot. Lincoln turned toward the entrance and wondered if Braii was behind those doors sitting next to Grisian. Did she have a say in who Grisian would choose as her husband? If she was choosing, Lincoln felt it unlikely she would choose him.
When his name was called he jumped up, bumping into the man next to him.
“Sorry,” he said, not waiting for a response.
He rushed behind the servant into the Throne room and down the aisle way. The room was large enough to seat three thousand men. The round ceiling above the throne was masterfully painted with images of warriors in battle. The throne itself sat atop a stone platform with three steps leading up to it. It was almost a meter wide, made of Glass, Ivory, and gold accents. There was a dark purple cushion on the seat, against the back, and on the arm rests. Grisian sat perfectly postured upon it, and his bodyguard Kiina stood to his right. Braii was nowhere in sight.
Grisian wore a long white gown over his seven-foot-tall slim figure. The gown blended almost perfectly with his semi-transparent pale skin. His long, chiseled humanlike face was serious, but then again, it always was. The Grii did not display emotion through the face, instead, they had a light in their chests that would change color to fit their changing moods. His chest already had a soft red glow bleeding through the thin fabric; he must have been angry at some point that morning, and wasn’t over it yet. Lincoln sighed. They were already off to a bad start.
Kiina wore a long pink dress that hung off the shoulders, and Lincoln could clearly see the black harness beneath. The harness was made from a single strap over each shoulder, one strap around her body above the breasts, and one below. The back had a full strip of material from shoulder to shoulder, with four holsters along its width. As Grisian’s bodyguard, she always had a Fiie holstered at the left shoulder blade for easy access. Her long coarse orange hair was braided beautifully, with half of the braids pulled up into a ponytail, and the rest cascading down almost to her waist. Lincoln had seen her many times in the past, and her face was always painted. But today it was clean. She kept her eyes on him as he walked into the room, and the light in her chest was white.
Lincoln approached Grisian’s throne. He got down on one knee and bowed with his right arm across his chest as Mr. Arthur had instructed him to do, and waited for Grisian to permit him to stand.
“Rise” he said.
Lincoln stood.
“Who are you?” Grisian asked.
“Lincoln Wolfe,” he replied. As soon as he spoke his name he regretted it, realizing Grisian’s question had been much deeper than his answer was. Grisian already knew his name. Instead, he was inviting him to vocalize his assessm
ent of his own character. He was asking what sort of person Lincoln was.
“Why are you here?” Grisian asked.
This time, Lincoln thought before he spoke. He couldn’t afford to give another unintelligent answer. His hands trembled, but he felt certain about what he had come to do. He looked at Grisian directly, but made sure to maintain his respectful demeanor. “To convince you there is no one on this planet who will Love your daughter more than me.”
“And how do you intend to care for her?” Grisian asked. “According to records, you are a human child still of learning age. Is it not uncommon for one such as yourself to seek to obtain a woman who is of significantly greater maturity? Especially within human culture?”
Lincoln tensed up at the question. He expected it, but maybe not in that way particularly. He replied, “I have recently become a member of the HLEC under the authority of Raymond Anarthrous. Though I am still of learning age, I have chosen to withdraw from my institution, and apply my capabilities to enhance the human experience on planet Graiis by serving with the council. I do understand that by human laws and customs, my desire is uncommon, but . . . I love her. I have obtained Griician citizenship for this very reason.”
Grisian’s chest turned white. Lincoln panicked and searched his mind for words. He was failing. Grisian had lost interest, and he would soon be dismissed to join the dozens of other sad-faced rejects who had previously exited the Throne room. He wished he knew what Grisian wanted to hear. He looked over at Kiina who, from the color in her chest, was equally disinterested. He was desperate.
“I-I used to come here when I was younger,” he said. Words came pouring from his lips before he had time to edit his thoughts to discern exactly what he should or shouldn’t say. “I would t-t-take my mother’s clearance and sneak into the city to see her. She was more than beautiful, she was kind. She was always kind to me, but I never got the chance to sh-sh-show her just how much she meant to me. And now that she is to be married, I would like the opportunity to try.”