by Brindi Quinn
The boy cocked his head to the side and folded his arms. “Red?” he said. “Your name? Or . . . Oh! Right. Heh. You mean this, huh?” He pointed to his neck where a red, nonsense design marked him as someone who’d never been created. Never been born.
“You’re a . . .” – Tide fought to get the word out – “Sec . . . ond?”
“Well, I prefer to be called ‘Rye’, actually, but sure, I am.”
This was the closest Tide had ever been to one of them, not to mention the first time she’d even spoken to one. Her throat knew this, and it let out a sick-sounding groan. The Second didn’t notice.
“Nice to meet you, newcomer!” He enthusiastically threw out a hand dressed in a fingerless glove. “I have to say, that was preeeety impressive. Your photograph, I mean. How on earth did you manage to climb all the way up there without drawing a single drop of blood? That’s just . . .”
But when the Second shifted his gaze to the outstretched hand that Tide had yet to take, he winced.
“Oh . . .” His voice fell. “My mistake. I assumed that since you were a participant that meant you weren’t racist, but . . . now that I look at you . . . you must not be a true street-dweller, right? You’re from one of the complexes, aren’t you? You aren’t used to people like me.”
It was true. Tide was just staring impolitely, mouth agape, at the first Second she’d ever met.
“Stupid. I should’ve realized sooner. It’s actually pretty obvious.” The Second retracted his hand. “I’ll leave you alone, then.” He turned to leave.
“Wait!” Tide called the word for the second time that day.
“Oh?” The Second glanced over his shoulder.
“You’re really . . . a . . .”
The Second flashed her a full-toothed smile. “Yup!”
He was a Second? A highly-accessorized Second. And he was cute. Cuter than the one she’d encountered on her way to the Weighted Dome. But he was a Second! But then, why wasn’t he all depressed and mopey? Why didn’t he feel like a shell of a person? Why was he . . .?
“Er- does that make you uncomfortable?” asked the Second.
Tide had been staring again.
“S-sorry! No . . . I . . .” Tide didn’t know what to say. “I’ve never met . . .”
“For real? So I was right! You really ARE from one of those fancy, uber-tall apartments, aren’t you?”
Tide looked to make sure there were no other shadowed observers watching before nodding.
“Totally called it!” said the Second. “So, you wouldn’t want to go . . . talk? Maybe? Because I’d really like to hear the story of how you made it to the top Gustway Peak. I don’t mind if you pry and stuff, too!”
~
“Forgive me, Y,” muttered Tide.
She sat across the table from the Second who looked completely delighted at having the opportunity to speak with her.
“Thanks for coming,” he said. “I don’t want to seem like a fanboy or anything, but I totally am. I love watching the climb, you know? It just gets your veins writhing, you know!? But I bet it’s even better when you’re actually the one DOING it. I just hope that someday they allow people like me to compete too. Uh- what is it?”
It wasn’t that Tide was staring again. It was more so that she hadn’t yet stopped.
“You’re so happy,” she said dumbly.
“You’re weird,” said the Second.
“EH!? Why!?”
“Ha! Well, for starters, you’re just brimming with misconceptions. Guess you’re pretty sheltered, huh?”
“Er-” Tide fiddled with her ear. “Yeah, I’m trying to be normal, but I guess it’s not really working. Sorry.”
The Second wasn’t mad, though. He showed off another silly grin. “It’s okay,” he said. “SO, I was thinking that it would be fair if we traded.”
“Traded?”
“Sure, like, I answer one of your questions. And then you answer one of mine. Until one of us runs out.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever run out,” muttered Tide.
She’d meant it for herself, but the Second heard it, thought it was for him, and found it hilarious. He burst into boyish laughter. “This is great! Yo, waitress! Give us two jugs, will you?”
This was all a first for the sheltered girl. She’d never eaten with the general population – ‘commoners’, as Y liked to tease – because she’d never actually entered a street-level café or restaurant before. But it wasn’t because she was a snob like Y. It was because her building was equipped with its own eateries, shops, and grocers run by residents for residents – places her father’s lawyer had insisted she stick to. Being in the ground café, being in an establishment like this, was something foreign to the princess’ lifestyle, so she hadn’t taken her eyes off of the Second since entering, but as she now followed his voice to the waitress, another flash of red caught her vision.
“She’s one too!?”
The Second snorted and smacked a fist against the Bororore table. “You’re awesome!” He fought to hold back another rush of laughter. “But keep comments like those to a minimum, Miss Huntress. People are going to think you’re a loon next.”
“S-sorry.”
“And stop apologizing, okay? It’s fine, but it’s getting kind of old.”
“Oh! Sor-”
The Second’s smirk forced her to stop mid-apology. Trying to behave discreetly, Tide scanned the café and saw at least five more flashes of red.
“So many,” she mumbled.
“Yeah,” agreed the Second. “But it’s not really like that everywhere. This café’s one of the exceptions.”
“How so?”
“Well, you know how most people are all ashamed when they get a Second? Or maybe you don’t know. Depends on your degree of shelteredness, I guess. Anyhow, most people are embarrassed when they get one. I mean, only people with severe emotional trauma spur second personalities, right? And lots of times, a Second shows itself in the form of a very painful memory – a person whose image sparks the memory for no apparent reason. It’s sort of hard to deal with, so lots of people lock their Seconds away. Treat them cruelly. Etcetera. The cool thing about this café is that the owner actually LIKES his Second. So much, actually, that he allows her to work here as a waitress. Mainstream culture disagrees, of course, but places like these are starting to scatter the map. Exciting . . . for people like me, that is.”
Tide brought her eyes to the spirited Second’s face. She didn’t see anything painful about him, but if what he was saying was true . . .
“So the person who’s your . . . um . . . Main?”
“Off limits.” The Second’s answer came quickly and harshly, and it surprised Tide. Up until that moment, the Second’s attitude had been chipper. More than chipper, even. Tide didn’t know how to respond, so she just said,
“Oh.”
“You can ask me about anything,” said the Second. “Except for him. End of story.”
Awkwardness filled the space around them. Luckily, it was broken when the red-marked waitress returned with two jugs of cactus juice.
“Sorry. Touchy subject obviously,” muttered the Second. He perked right back up, though, after taking a swig from his jug. “SO, I think that counts as a pretty big answer I just gave. So big, in fact, that I think it’s worth two questions. My turn! What’s your name?”
“Tide. Or . . . Ink Tide, I suppose.”
“All right. Well, I’ll just call you Tide. Sorry, but I’m not a huge fan of the ‘Ink’ thing.”
“Not a . . .? H-hey! Just a sec! Why not!? A lot of thought went into that name! What’s wrong with it!?”
“Ha!” The Second locked his blue eyes with hers and grinned. “You spaz. I don’t know. I’m just not a fan. Tide’s prettier.”
Tide’s neck grew warm.
“That’s why it’s more fitting for you,” continued the Second.
Tide’s cheek’s copied her neck. The Second noticed.
“Ah! Sorry
!” he said, rubbing the side of his head sheepishly. “Guess my respect and awe for your climbing skills turned into a bit of a crush. Whoops!”
With that, Tide’s mouth fell open in a most unflattering way. She hadn’t had much interaction with Seconds, true, but she also hadn’t had much interaction with guys in general, and never had anyone told her that they had a ‘crush’ on her.
“Whoops! Sorry again!” said the Second. “I can tell you’re way embarrassed!” He was studying her slack-jaw. “I couldn’t help myself and sort of blurted it out, but I really shouldn’t say stupid stuff like that. People will start thinking I’m a womanizer or something. Please forgive!”
He wrinkled his nose and he really did look worried. So worried, in fact that it triggered something within the princess’s psyche.
The young girl returned her jaw to an acceptable position and smiled. “Forgive?” And the smile was bright and smart, for Tide was very much the sort of individual whose personality flourished when she felt confident. And she did. In that moment, she felt good. His confession had made her . . . bolder. She continued, “Now who’s apologizing too much?” And it out came smoothly. Talking to him was getting easier by the minute.
Relieved, the Second returned the smile.
“So, what’s your second question?” asked Tide. “You’d better make it good because my next one’s a doozy.”
“Oh! Right. Heh. A doozy, huh? Too bad mine’s an easy one.” He paused to take another swig from his jug. Or maybe he was just stalling. Either way, after a moment he looked up and said in earnest, “Would you call me Rye? It’s more of a request, I know, but having a name is something that helps me stay . . . rooted, so it’s kind of important.”
Tide didn’t know what he meant by ‘rooted’, but she thought it a reasonable request. She couldn’t very well go on calling him ‘Second’, could she? Plus, now that she’d spoken to him, she believed even more that he really was just a boy. Not creepy. Just a . . .
“Of course, Rye.”
Rye looked across the table at the pretty girl who’d just said his name and let out an uneasy laugh to cover up the fact that the face now growing embarrassed was his. “Your go,” he said, looking away.
“Okay. How long have you . . . existed, and what was it like when you . . .?”
“Came into being? Now, now, one at a time, you cheater!”
Even though he was kidding, Tide had to fight to hold back the apology that longed to escape.
“I’ve been around for about two years,” said Rye, tapping his chin. “Well, a little more than two years, actually. Sometimes it’s hard to remember exactly when . . . Uh. Right. I guess since that wasn’t a very exciting answer, that I’ll answer your other question too! One day I was aware of myself as something separate from Foster. But it felt natural. Like I’d always been around.”
“Foster?”
“Oops! O-off limits!”
The name of Rye’s Main had slipped out too easily. Rye silently reprimanded himself.
“Er- my turn,” he said. “How did you make it to the top of Gustway without bleeding? I’ve been there. Well, I haven’t, but . . . my Main has. There’re jagged things sticking out just waiting to stab you, right? And it’s way steep, isn’t it? So how? How’d you manage it?”
It was the same sort of question the photographic developer had asked when she and Y had taken the film to get developed. That had been weeks ago, but Tide still didn’t know how to respond without sounding . . . airheaded. She stared across the table at the cute Second who was staring so eagerly back at her. Those wide, interested eyes marked him as a true fanboy. A fan? Then, she was . . . an idol? Sort of. And he liked her. He was one of those that had never been born, but he really liked her. Looked up to her. Was fond of her. She didn’t want to seem airy, but really, what did she have to lose? And besides, wasn’t honesty the way to go with someone so genuine?
“I’m afraid I don’t have a great answer to give you on that one, Rye, because when I climb, I kind of lose control. My body takes over. Like, with the Gustway . . . I remember staring at it, being afraid, and then . . . I was at the top.”
His wide eyes grew wider. “For real?”
“Yeah, my friend Y was with me, though, and she said it was pretty crazy. You’ll have to ask her the details yoursel- . . . uh. Never mind.”
Tide was embarrassed, but now it was for a different reason.
“Oh,” said Rye, picking up on the unspoken thing. “She’s like you? She’s not used to people like me?”
“Well, I guess she’s had more experience, but . . .”
“But she doesn’t like us. Got it.” Rye wasn’t offended. Just disappointed. “Anyways,” he said, “how long have you been climbing for? I mean, if your body’s crazy trained like that, then you must’ve worked really, really hard to-”
Tide held up a hand to cut him off. “Aren’t you forgetting something? Like maybe the fact that it’s MY turn.”
“Grrr. Okay, okay. Ask away.”
Tide was pleased with herself. “So,” she said, “you mentioned that your Main had been to the Gustway before. Does that mean that you remember all of his experiences?”
Rye stared at his lap.
“Or . . . does that count as asking about him? Sorry. I didn’t mean to-”
“I remember most things.” Rye’s eyes were still downcast. “In fact, most of the memories I have from before feel like they’re my own. Like I was actually there. Except, I know that I wasn’t the primary one in control during those times because the reactions I remember are opposite of how I would’ve reacted if given the chance. It’s like even though I was there, I had no control. I think that’s because even before a Second gains its own physical form, we can’t compete with the dominant personality.”
Tide didn’t entirely get it, but she remained quiet. She could tell that Rye was unloading not for her, but for himself.
“Also, the memories that I remember are . . . uh . . . sugar-coated, I guess you could call it, because I don’t remember any of the dark times. I don’t remember any of the painful things from my Main’s past. There’s a large black hole from the time right before I materialized. I’m sure it must’ve been something big. Big enough to make Fost- uh . . . my Main push me out of his mind for good. Really, it’s pretty complicated, huh? And . . . I don’t like thinking about it too much because it makes me feel unreal.”
“That’s the biggest fear for a Second,” said Tide’s mouth.
“Oh!” Surprised, Rye studied her. “You’re right.”
But for some reason, the young girl couldn’t remember the mumbled comment she’d just given. “What? Right? About what?”
“That being unreal is the biggest fear for a Second,” said Rye.
“Huh?” The princess was confused.
“Never mind . . . But it is interesting that even though you’ve been sheltered, you ‘get it’, you know?”
Tide didn’t get it. Fearing airiness, however, she nodded halfheartedly. It was enough to fool Rye. He locked eyes with the waitress and pointed to the empty jug of cactus juice. Then he said,
“All right, back to my climbing question. How long’ve you been at it?”
“A little less than a year . . . I think.”
“WHAT?! You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope.”
“That’s impossible. I mean, I’ve heard of being a natural, but there’s no way . . .”
“Yeah, Y says I’m like an ultra-natural.”
The fanboy in Rye’s eyes glimmered. “Amazing! When climbing becomes legal for Seconds, you’ve GOT to teach me!”
It struck a nerve in the young princess. “Legal for Seconds?” she murmured.
Seconds: People who’d never been born. Despair in suits of flesh. Second personalities that’d gained their own physical forms. It was impossible. It was ungraspable.
But it was staring across the table at her with awe.
“Rye,” said Tide. The Second
had had a point. Saying his name really did help her view him as a ‘person’.
“What?” Rye impatiently tapped the empty jug on the table to remind the waitress that he needed a refill.
“Rye,” said Tide again.
“Wha-”
But when he saw that Tide’s eyes were locked on the red on his neck, the Second’s stomach dropped. He released the jug’s handle and slowly brought his hand to the collar of his hoodie.
“This?” he asked, tapping his neck. Tide nodded. She couldn’t pull her eyes away. What was the significance of that tattoo? All people like him had one. They were all the same. They were all marked.
Rye tilted his head to the side and tugged down on the collar with his pointer finger, revealing the entirety of the red design.
“I have no idea,” he said quietly.
Tide’s body that loved to act on its own brought a graceful hand from her lap and into the space between the two new companions. It hung listlessly a moment, before starting to move across the air in the direction of Rye’s tattoo.
Rye gulped and stared not at the hand, but at Tide’s eyes. They were different now. They weren’t empty or anything, though. They were focused. So focused that they could see nothing but the red of his neck. He, on the other hand, could see nothing but the green of her eyes, which held a lovely muted quality.
Time was lagging, and for some lazy minutes, the silent exchange carried on – Tide’s hand drifting, Rye’s eyes stuck on hers – until a blurted apology from the princess put an end to all of if.
“Sorry!”
“Huh?!” Rye snapped out of it in time to realize that Tide’s fingers were just short of his neck. Her eyes were large. Her cheeks were red. She looked mortified.
“I-it’s okay!” said Rye. His cheeks were also red because he’d just noticed that the waitress was standing at the side of the table with a fresh jug of cactus juice. Tide pulled her hand back into her lap, attempting to erase the bizarre behavior she’d just displayed.
“So . . . I’ll just leave this here, then,” the waitress said and hurried away, but it couldn’t undo the embarrassment that the princess and Second shared.