Shades Of Forever

I turn the last page, then close the book. It only took me a few hours to get through Surviving Outsiders - Book was an excellent writer, and her stories and homilies led naturally from one to another. Most were repetitions of lessons I learned growing up; empathizing with others; not assuming that just because something is different that it's necessarily hostile; understanding that actions can be perceived differently based on what the viewer believes. My favorite was the short sonnet about dancing amongst the stars, though I'm still not sure what the underlying lesson was on that one. It seemed more like a remembrance than an allegory.

I transfer the slim tome to my non-causal storage then stand up and stretch. The tree trunk was comfortable, curving almost perfectly to fit my spine, but there's something indulgent about feeling tight muscles loosen and pop. Broom's no longer in the room, but she turned the lights on at some point to counteract the fading afternoon glow drifting through the high windows.

She greets me as I enter the Archive lobby, feet propped on a desk, her hands busy scribbling something on a clipboard. There's a distinct smell of smoke in the air, and I wonder if one of the Bakers forgot a meal in the oven.

"How're you feeling?"

"Hungry. That was an interesting book."

"It is, isn't it?" Broom replies. "I've always wondered why Book didn't record anything about the Before Times, but maybe she did and it just got lost over the years."

"Maybe. Great Grandpa always warned me about information drift. Lots of stories in the Memory Shrine don't make much sense."

Broom nods absently, still focused on whatever she's writing.

"What are you going to do now?"

I rub my hands across my stomach, feeling the tight flatness.

"Get dinner, then go check on MacWillie and Huckens."

"Mmmkay. Try to let me know if something's wrong before you go running off."

I blush.

"Okay."

"Don't forget the funeral tomorrow morning."

"I won't."

She doesn't say anything more as I leave, and I make my way to the village square. It's half-filled with people enjoying their meals in convivial groups, hanging lamps brightening against the gloaming dusk. I fix myself a plate of butter-poached river trout and roasted vegetables, steam rising from the freshly-cooked platters the Bakers keep bringing out. A midnight paw sneaks three of the fish into my shadow with quick grabs.

mmmm. fishes

"Just make sure you don't waste any food, Pete."

I look around for someplace to sit and see Rifle and Door at a table with some of the other young adults our age. I head over, planning to sit with my friends, but as I get closer I can't help but notice the whispered mutters and sidelong glances. I try not to let my steps falter, but they slow anyways. As it becomes clear I mean to join the gathering, there's a burst of hasty clearing of plates, shoving final bites into bulging cheeks followed with halfhearted farewells. I drop my plate on the table with a clatter, trying not to let the hurt seep into my voice.

"What kind of crabroach shit was that?"

Rifle and Door look up at me with miserable expressions. It's the former who speaks.

"...sorry, Sky. You know how it is with Idiots. They're afraid that being around you is going to be dangerous."

I draw in breath to chew them out, berate them for not speaking up for me, and then a treacherous thought worms its way across my mind.

When did I speak up for Wires?

I slump onto the bench, fork listlessly picking at my food.

"...it's fine. Thanks for staying." I take a bite, not tasting it. "They're probably right. There's a chance we all might die tomorrow, and it'll be my fault." Their eyes widen, but it's a different voice that answers.

"And maybe we don't, yes? Such is the nature of melty rocks."

Dirt slides into the space next to me, placing his own meal on the table with a smile. Another plate bangs down on the other side.

"If you blow us up before I get this flamethrower working, I'm going to be pissed," Torch grumbles, her face peeling and eyebrows missing. "I almost had it this time."

"You made Broom write up an incident report, Torchie," Dirt says around a mouthful of food. "I haven't had an incident report in at least a month. Not since the Glowbeast thing."

I can't help my snort of amusement.

"I don't think you're helping. I'm trying to convince Rifle and Door that I'm not a crazy person who's dangerous to be around."

Dirt somehow sprays chunks of food out of his nose as Torch starts choking. I pound her on the back, eventually dislodging the chunk of fish she hacks up. All of us pretend we don't see Pete's tails snatching the scattered morsels and yanking them back into my shadow.

"You," Dirt gasps, "are by far the most dangerous Idiot the village has ever seen. Your melty rock is the entire world."

"You ran me into the ground with no training," Torch adds, still coughing, "and then fought a horde of things Dirt still can't describe to me. I might as well be experimenting with candles compared to what you're doing."

I flush in embarrassment.

"Well... when you put it that way..."

"Your cat is weird," Door adds quietly, eyes downcast. "Moss Water is still trying to figure out what it did to the filtration pools." He looks up. "She wants me to bring it back so she can study it. Our efficiency is the best it's ever been."

satisfaction

I ignore Pete.

"But... we're still friends, right? You know I wouldn't put you in danger." I look back and forth between Rifle and Door. "...you know that, right?"

Rifle lifts her shoulders slightly, then lets them droop.

"I don't think you want to hurt us, Sky, but things have gotten strange ever since that starfly came down and you're at the center of it all. The others have noticed." She gulps. "I think you might hurt us without realizing you're doing it. That's what Idiots do."

All my rationales for avoiding Wires, tossed right back at me. I don't know what my face looks like, but Rifle and Door are suddenly reaching across the table, alarm on their own.

"Whoa, hey, Sky, we're still your friends," Rifle says quickly, patting my arm. Next to her, Door nods vigorously. "It's just, I understand why the others are frightened. Being an Idiot is scary."

"It is boring," Dirt interrupts, chewing another mouthful of fish, "ninety-nine percent of the time. The last one percent is awful."

"It really is," Torch agrees, smacking Pete's questing paw away from her plate. "Although I think Sky's ratio has been skewing inversely."

Somehow it's Torch, grumpy confrontational Torch of all people that makes me chuckle.

"It has been a shit couple of days since you all decided I was an Idiot, yeah. I think the last few hours was my one percent of boredom."

Dirt nods solemnly.

"Broom said she would 'replace our livers with crabroach claws' if we disturbed you."

I stifle a snort.

"I'm not sure Book's book was that important. I learned pretty much everything it was talking about growing up."

"That's why we're tested every year," Torch says, shoveling some veggies into her mouth. "To make sure the village stays that way. There are records in the Archive of what happens when we fail. They're pretty grim."

Dirt nods again.

"Torchie is right. I told you earlier, Sky. The village has moved before. Sometimes the water dries up, or the winds change. Other times, the people change, and the Idiots notice too late. The survivors rebuild and replant, and try to remember for next time."

"But I didn't see anything about that in the Memory Shrine growing up," I protest.

"That's because you weren't a full Memoriam," Torch replies. "The Memory Shrine holds what we want to remember. The Archive holds what we need to remember. Memoriams know both, and the difference between the two."

"See?" Rifle declares stoutly, "I told you, Sky. Idiots are scary."

A new voice enters the conversation, her mountainous presence settling in next to Door.

"Aye, idiots will tell you the weather's great for sunbathing as the oceans boil away."

My heart leaps in my chest.

"MacWillie! Are you done with the incognito field?"

She shakes her head above the two plates in front of her, Huckens glowering at Pete's probing grabs towards his fish as he attempts to shield his meal without hitting Rifle's arm.

"Not yet, young Sky, but we've done as much as we can for now. The connections are solid and the array's drawing power. All we can do now is wait for the algorithms to cycle into a configuration that works, and then run final checks."

"Will it be ready in time?" I try to keep the anxiety from my voice.

"It should," another new voice answers, Violet nearly leaping into the space next to Dirt. He gives her a long look, but she ignores him, Corgia hopping into her lap and resting its chin on the table. "The most recent fleet updates put them at twelve hours out, and the Chief Engineer's integrator has a max cycling estimate of ten hours." She flips her hair. "Thanks for setting up the transmitter, by the way. Appreciate it."

MacWillie stares daggers at her and Violet pretends not to notice.

"Aye, and don't you make me regret it. Stay out of my head. I'm keeping an eye on you."

Violet laughs airily.

"That's cute."

Dirt nudges her with his elbow as he lifts his arms into a stretch.

"Me and Torchie had a good talk with Chief Outsider Engineer MacWillie. Very illuminating." He brings his arms back down along with his voice. "She's not keeping an eye on you. We are."

Violet pouts, then grabs the remaining half of Dirt's fish.

"Well, good for you then." She takes a bite, nose wrinkling as she spits out the smaller bones. "That's not why I'm here though." She leans on the table, fixing me with a stare. "I'm here because your idiot needs a plan."

"I told you, I have a plan," I spit back. "I'm going to start running. To keep the people who want me and Box away from the village. We'll be fine."

Movement stills at the table, Pete's paw arrested just outside touching distance from the half a fish gripped in Violet's hand. Seven pairs of eyes, eight if I count my shadow, nine if I count the dog, stare at me like I've lost my mind.

"...what?"

A babble of voices erupts.

"That's-"

"-not even-"

"-worst idea-"

"-ever!"

disapproval

woof!

My cheeks flame with heat.

"Okay, fine! You all have a better plan?!"

"The most important thing is to get you off-planet," Violet immediately replies, Corgia barking in approval. "If you want the corpos to chase you, you have to accept they might catch you, which means you need to be off Earth. Otherwise they're going to focus on why you were stuck here."

"And how're we going to make that happen?" MacWillie shoots back. "The shuttle you arrived in is weeks from repairing, assuming we can salvage the necessary elements."

"That's easy," Violet sneers at her, "I'll just requisition another one from the Blackbeard. In fact, it's on its way now."

"Yeah, but," Huckens pipes up, "a Hellhound doesn't have interstellar capabilities. It can get Sky off the planet, but what then?"

Violet rolls her eyes.

"If only someone at this table was in full control of a reality-drive equipped warship that said shuttle just came from. With how powerful this transmitter array is, I have zero latency feedback to at least the galactic core." She looks at me. "The Blackbeard will take you wherever you need to go to draw them away from here. I promise."

"Umm," Rifle interjects quietly, "what about food? Should we pack some lunches?"

"And water!" Door adds, brows creased in concentration. "You're not going to be near the Saints. Is there water on other planets? Will it be safe to drink?"

The three outsiders gape at them, mouths falling open, but Torch and Dirt assume thoughtful expressions.

"That's right," Dirt says, "will you need new weapons? What kind of cloaks should I pack?"

"If I work through the night I'm sure I can figure out why the flamethrower keeps exploding," Torch adds seriously. "You might need it."

I look around the table, at everyone invested in my survival, and it's all I can do not to start weeping. I'm going to miss them so much. I manifest my limbs as quickly as possible to extract Dirt's armaments from my storage without causing distress to the non-outsiders. The kukri and rifle bounce in front of him, immaculately polished.

"I'm... I'll be okay," I manage. "I have what I need. I think Violet's plan is good. Better than mine. I'll lead them all away tomorrow. After we're sure the incognito field is working." I pause, taking a gulping breath. "After Great Grandpa's funeral."

A flash of light illuminates the village square, followed by a rumble of thunder. Soft pattering rattles across the forest canopy, fat droplets of water splatting down in dust raising impacts. Exclamations of alarm rise all around, as always happens during a sudden summer squall.

Dirt quickly secures the weapons I returned to him, then places a hand on my shoulder.

"Truly? You won't regret your choices?"

"I wouldn't be much of an Idiot if I did, right?" I give him a watery smile, the rain starting to fall around us in earnest. "It's fine, Dirt. I have Box with me. As long as the village is safe, we'll be okay."

Lightning flashes again, accompanied by the drums upon high, and we race for shelter from the torrential downpour.

The storm has arrived.