Chapter Twelve The Nova
Chapter Twelve
The Nova
Once upon a time, maybe not even too long ago, a visit to the sea might have been healing. But now she was just as smoggy, sluggish, and ill as I.
The muggy mist left not even a seam of horizon over the waters. Murky sludge pushed up on the shore and collected with the foamy pus. Even the sand was acid washed, shell pieces and pebbles mixed with strips of metal, old worn glass, and ambiguous bits of rubber.
Cigarettes and coal power were illegal within the bounds of the city.
But what good was it when we were breathing in the by-product of the stacks right over the border?
The ocean was poisoned, the sky polluted, the air an incurable venom.
Even when I’d come an hour north of the city shore for a prescribed ocean walk, it was in worse shape than the boroughs.
That doctor friend of my brother’s was useless. This was not a remedy for anything.
Even a meditative deep breath was just as good as a dram of moonshine.
The cliffs along the shore whispered, their raggedy weeds waving high above, the only things holding the poor mounds together.
Once upon a time, you could see the stars on this very shore and know that you were not alone, that the sky opened up and allowed you to peek into it.
People traveled hours to see them now, in places where the veil of the world grew thinner, relatively untouched by man.
I used to understand the awe that came with witnessing the unknown, the things bigger than us.
To make us strive to do better. But now I thought of stars and wondered, what does it matter?
We were floating through something so vast and unknowable, at the mercy of chaos and surviving by pure luck.
I supposed there was no point in troubling myself with hypotheticals. The damage was done, there was no way to reverse it, not any way I could meaningfully contribute.
I twisted the cap of the tincture, flicking the cap into the sand before taking it all in a gulp.
You had to drink these things fast, or else you might catch a bite of the taste.
A bitterness stuck in my throat, only a single cough before I caught myself covering my mouth.
I did not trust doctors to know what would heal, but I knew that they were best at making us numb.
Numb was where I needed to be, so I could figure out how to get out of this mess I’d created.
“Is the human condition limited to torturing yourselves for fun?” asked a wisp of a voice in my ear.
I glanced over my shoulder, a growing darkness in my wake, a mimicry of my own shadow, then three white dots peering back at me.
“Some may say so.” I shrugged, tossing the glass to the ground.
The shadow lifted the small bottle gently, rotating it as if inspecting a specimen. Then it was swallowed into the black. The shadow rippled. “There is no other explanation for that taste.”
For the first time in a while, a laugh.
“Is something amusing?” it asked, the outline shifting as if the sun were moving. Except it was heavily overcast.
“You seem all too curious, much too sentient,” I answered. “You’re not like the other Peculiars, are you?”
“Maybe you haven’t taken the time to know them,” it answered, the outline rippling over the textured sand. The blackness extended before me in the shape of my own silhouette. “You people are enigmas. Why are you wallowing in a place like this?”
“Prescribed,” I said. “If not, they may think me a madwoman if I refuse.”
“For what ailment?”
“Supposedly, everything.”
“Even I?” it asked, a teasing to its tone.
“That depends. How many questions do you plan on asking me?”
“As many as you’re going to ask me.”
A slow nod eased those words in my mind, nestling them back. “Will you help me, then?”
“I have no reason to help you.”
“You don’t seem to have a reason to stay either. What keeps you here, Beast?”
“I have nothing but time, now that I’m here,” it said. There was a pause, filled by the sounds of the shore. “I prefer to watch awhile before I partake with humanly activities.”
“So you’re practicing on me?”
“I don’t need practice,” it hissed. “Why would I need to practice for simple things like you?”
“Being alone up there must have you jaded,” I laughed. “Being part of a herd, a society, is much harder than you think. Every small inconsistency is noticed. They’ll know you’re not one of us the minute you walk into a room, if you can manage to do that without looking alien.”
“Harsh critic for a lonely thing like you.” Its voice echoed in my head, bouncing around enough where it was starting to give me a headache.
“I can help you, you know,” I offered.
It was silent.
“My Peculiars won’t let me open another door to the Otherside. But if you can do that for me, I could show you how to blend in.”
“I cannot make doors, your rituals cannot call on me,” it objected.
“Guide me, then,” I demanded, “be my mentor. I will find my way to the Otherside, whether you help me or not. You and I can both be on our desired paths faster if we help each other.”
“You wish to go to my world?” it asked.
I nodded.
Another contemplative pause for the shadow.
“I suppose you have a bargain, then.” The words were nearly a coo, like the delighted purr of a cat.
I reached within my jacket, a delicately shaped flask cool against my fingers. “To feeding curiosity, then.” I took a quick gulp. My eyes squeezed shut, my throat tightened, then I dumped the rest into the shadow.
It flinched, squirmed, then settled.
“I don’t like that much. Please never repeat,” it complained.
“We shall feed you something with more substance, then,” I muttered, retreating along the shore, the shadow remaining in its place. I stopped, staring back at it. It was like asking a dog to recall.
“I don’t subsist on worldly meals,” it protested.
“Eat for pleasure, then.”
Slowly, it caught up to me, then quickly moved back into place in the shape of my own shadow.
If this thing wasn’t as malicious as I initially thought, it couldn’t hurt to use it.
My only reservation was its reason for being on this side .
. . if not to feed, if not to trade. I had never seen something of its size or sentience.
Especially a Peculiar that couldn’t be used to open a door with the help of my ability, if he was a Peculiar at all to begin with.
There was no telling how its feasting would affect others. So far, it was content with me.
But what would happen once it was sick of my presence, I couldn’t say.
I could only prepare.
Neither the doctor’s concoction nor the alcohol were enough to keep me sane, even if just for a moment. They were enough to get me to move my mentality, shift to where I could focus on what I needed to get done.
The most momentous task was getting the library back in order.
A new rug covered the damaged floor, sparing my feet of splinters.
Then there was sweeping up the old papers and separating them into what to keep and what to throw away.
If there was a bright side to this upheaval, it was the organizational benefits.
The opportunity to throw out the old to make room for the new, for I knew there would be much more note-taking in my future.
The books were shoved back onto the shelves in whatever order I could manage, but I had no time to put them in any sensible assemblage. That could come later. They just needed to be off the floor.
Lastly, watering the ferns and houseplants with old cups of water scattered among the rooms—though the leaves were past being crisp from thirst, so it was more ceremonial than helpful.
When the mess was at least half managed, I had to tend to two more administrative tasks.
“Hello, I’m calling to follow up about some missing papers I left at the Archive last week?” I chewed at my lip, awaiting a response.
“Was this something borrowed or a personal item?” the attendant said over the phone.
“Personal item. A folder and a workbook tucked inside.”
“You are welcome to come and look for it.”
“Do you think I haven’t tried that?” It was hard to contain a pleasant tone. “Could you look in the back room or wherever you put lost items?”
“We do not have a lost item cabinet; we throw abandoned items away twice per week when waste management comes around” was the only thing left she had to offer.
“Thank you for being useless,” I hissed into the receiver, slamming it back on the stand.
I leaned back in my chair, groaning as I pressed my hands to my face.
My journal and proposal were floating around somewhere in someone else’s hands, or in a landfill.
Luckily, I had one meeting documented already.
Everything should be fine, but I would have to redo months of experiments and tests to get another workbook or data to resubmit.
An invention was nothing without proof of its conception.
A cool feeling against my leg.
I glanced down at Absinthe, weaving itself around my leg in some sort of comfort.
Technically, I didn’t have to wait for something good to happen.
It just meant a little bit of bravery, and possibly swallowing some ego. I watched my Peculiar crawl along the ground by my legs, then quickly move as I stood.
The beast said he was willing to help. Was it too early to call in the favor? With my new beast at my whim, I wouldn’t have to put my Peculiars through any more labor for a while. As long as the beast was still willing, all I had to do was lure him out.
To entice his appetites.