Theo #3
“They capture goddesses and hook them up to machines that feed from them while they’re comatose and drugged. The machines fill factories built in fields like yours.”
“They fucking Matrix us?!” she exclaimed over a distant crack of thunder, coughing and pounding her chest like she was choking on the concept.
That word meant nothing to me, but at least she seemed appropriately upset.
“I’ve worked with an organization meant to combat the problem, but progress is…
complicated. In return for saving my life, I’d like to help make sure you stay safely hidden while the rest of the world sorts itself out.
” That was an over-simplification of why I was here. But it would do.
“We’re even now, remember? You don’t owe me anything.” She popped one of the berries into her mouth. “Surprised to hear about the factories, though. I guess I thought technology wasn’t really a thing here.”
“It is for the rich.” I thought about the car I’d taken from G.P.O.
, the lightbulbs in my pub, and the machine in my backpack used to detect her field.
Maybe that bitter stereotype wasn’t giving her an accurate picture of the situation.
I should correct myself. “Some simple technologies are common. More advanced ones vary by region, organization, and tax bracket.”
She hummed to herself, thinking. “That makes sense, I guess. I never had my own T.V., but there were a few above the booths at work. Cheers to being lower class.”
My eyes fixated on her pouted lips while she pondered, then panned to the fruits in her palm. “May I try one?”
“Oh yeah, I guess you’ve never had a blackberry,” she remarked, holding out her cupped palm full of them.
I picked up the fruit and rotated it, noting some of the bumps were dark blue while others were red. “What does it taste like?”
“Depends on if it’s ripe. Sometimes they’re bitter. Sometimes they’re sweet.”
I dropped the fruit on my tongue and bit down.
Fucking. Delicious. That’s what a blackberry tasted like.
“They keep me surprisingly full. I really thought I’d go hungry out here, but nope,” she mused, continuing to munch.
Remembering I’d packed food, I reached into my bag. “Let me get you something that isn’t fruit.” I pulled out a sack of salted meats.
“Oh, shit,” she grimaced. “I can’t eat meat.
It makes me sick. It makes all of us sick…
I think. That’s what the book said.” Her eyes wandered reflectively.
“Which explains what happened when I ate the shredded chicken at work last year…” She shuddered.
“I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of The Exorcist? It was like that.”
“What book?”
“Oh, I was given a book when I was sent here. It had an overview of the whole ‘goddess’ thing. Although it conveniently didn’t mention that mother dearest is sending her daughters to a planet that’s turning them into batteries.”
“Batteries”—she didn’t know it was such a cruel slur. I hid my disgust at hearing it said out loud. “Can I see the book?”
“No can do. It disintegrated after I finished reading it.”
That book would likely be incredibly helpful for both sides of the energy war… maybe it was best turned to ash.
“How about this?” I handed her some bread, since meat was off the table.
She examined it and took a bite. “I’d like to stay here long enough to get you settled in the field.
I’ll make you a cabin. I’ll bring you supplies from the nearest village.
I’ll ensure you can stay here safely tucked away from civilization. ”
“I’m not trying to stay tucked away from anywhere,” she scoffed. “You sound like Ida.”
“Who’s Ida? Is she in Drifael?”
“No, she lives on the mountain. She’s a Pyran who helped get me on my feet out here. She gave me clothing, supplies, and a crash course in Trebianna. I visit her a lot.”
I glanced at the worn fur and blanket she had for crude bedding.
At least somebody had given her something.
And I was relieved that “somebody” was a wilderness hermit.
There were far worse options. If I met this Ida, I could make an assessment on her character.
Bartender and hitman also shared the skill of a solid gut instinct for measuring a person.
“You really shouldn’t be seen by others. The yellow hair will be a dead giveaway that you’re a goddess. Nobody born on Trebianna has that.”
“The blonde? That’s an easy fix.” She shrugged. “I have to start making trips to town to get the things Ida and I need to survive the winter, so I’ll make sure the hair isn’t an issue. Anything else?”
“Why do you need to help this other female?” It seemed more likely that whoever Ida was should be helping her.
“She’s an amputee. My healing powers don’t seem capable of regrowing limbs, so I’m trying to be supportive.”
“What does helping Ida normally look like?” I was amazed anyone was surviving out here. Much less someone who may be struggling with decreased mobility.
“There’s not much I can do. Plus she’s pretty independent…
and stubborn. I bring her as much food, water, and supplies as I can forage and carry myself.
We’re also trying to make the cabin more accessible, like relocating items down from their high shelves.
Some things aren’t as easily changed, so I help with those tasks when I’m there.
Like gathering brush for her fireplace. Ideally, I visit every couple of days, but winter was a bitch. ”
“You did this in the winter too?!” I’d barely survived the trek in that blizzard.
“What’s my other choice? We need each other,” she huffed. “Buuuuuuut if I could get some supplies from town I could probably hold us over for longer.”
“Does she not want to move to Drifael?” I was becoming upset for both females. Basic existence shouldn’t be this difficult.
“Oh no, she loves Drifael! But poverty and all… you understand.” Her eyes watched me closely, deciding if I did know what poverty meant.
“Right.” I’d never faced true poverty but I did understand. There wasn’t money for Ida to obtain housing.
“Anyway, town is unavoidable. So, let’s talk passing as a Trebianna native. My hair color needs to change. What else?”
Town was absolutely avoidable, given the stakes. This was a matter of life and death. All it would take was a single exposure of her to E.A.R.T.H., and she would lose her memories and her freedom. Once she became a target, they would track her down. Did I not express that clearly?
“I don’t think you’re understanding me—”
“Theo, you aren’t changing my mind about this,” she cut me off, her eyes rolling back into her head. “This isn’t optional. So, tell me what I need to do to blend in.”
I hated that she was pushing back on this, but it was her choice. It had to be her choice. I wouldn’t be around forever to protect her, even if it was from her own bad decisions.
“You should cover your neck and pretend to be a Pyran if anyone ever sees you. Your species look the same except for the missing neck emblem.”
“Got it. No blonde. Cover my neck. Other precautions?”
I blinked in disbelief. What the fuck was she thinking? Did life imprisonment really mean nothing to her?
She sighed. “I don’t know why Ida hasn’t just told me why she didn’t want me making these trips for her. These are easy fixes. It’s not such a big deal pretending to not be a human.”
“I can assure you this is a very big deal. You shouldn’t risk it.”
“We’ll see,” she hummed, mouth still twisted in a frown.
I thought I might get the silent treatment for the rest of dinner, but after a moment she puffed out her cheeks, resetting her expression.
“Thanks for coming back to warn me. This really is helpful to know. I should be able to take it from here.”
“I’m going to help you!” I cleared my throat, surprised by how intense the words had boomed out. “I’d like to help you.”
She grinned dreamily past me into the rain. “So, you build cabins?”
“I can make you something nice.” I had zero experience, but she didn’t need to know that.
“I’ve never had my own home, Theo,” she exhaled, her eyes fixated on the glittering droplets reflecting light from our small fire in the dark of early evening. “I’d like one. But you don’t owe me anything. And I don’t want to owe you anything for it. I don’t have anything to repay you with.”
“Understood.”
“You haven’t asked my name yet.”
I was hesitant to ask her anything personal. I didn’t want to encourage her talking to strangers. She was far too eager to connect, and that was a dangerous thing to entertain. The less she told me, the better.
Or maybe I feared how badly I wanted to know her name, her story, who she was.
“It’s Vivian,” she offered when I didn’t respond.
“I’ll help you however I can, Vivian.” The name was sweet on my tongue.
It meant “life”.
Befitting of a goddess.