14. Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fourteen
S kye
It’s a gray day, but I don’t think it will rain as Thrax and I work on pronunciation. We’ve fallen into a comfortable rhythm over the past few days—his deep voice carefully enunciating Latin words while I type furiously, tweaking the translation algorithm.
Our concentration is broken as someone opens the atrium door. Dr. Diaz strides toward us, her white lab coat billowing behind her like a cape. Instead of her usual confident demeanor, she seems thoughtful, almost hesitant.
“Skye! Thrax!” she calls out, her Spanish accent lilting pleasantly. “I’ve been thinking about something I’d like to discuss with you both.”
I’ve chatted with Dr. Diaz a few times in the cafeteria, always impressed by her brilliance and dedication to the project. She’s been the driving force behind the medical aspects of the gladiators’ revival and has navigated complex international laws and rallied top doctors and scientists to our cause.
“Dr. Diaz,” I greet her, smiling. “What’s on your mind?”
She reaches our table, her gaze darting between Thrax and me. “Oh, is this the translation software in action? Marvelous!” Her eyes widen as her words are translated into Latin for Thrax. “Simply incredible work, Skye.”
I feel a flush of pride at her praise. “Thank you. We’re making progress every day. What can we do for you?”
Dr. Diaz settles into a chair, leaning forward with genuine interest. “Thrax, I’ve been wondering if you might be willing to help us understand more about daily life in your time. The staff here—we work with you, but we know so little about your world, your customs.”
Thrax straightens, interest flickering in his eyes. Though still reserved, he nods encouragingly.
“I had an idea,” she continues. “What if we organized a small gathering? A chance for you to share your culture with us? We could try to recreate some aspects of a Roman feast—the food, the atmosphere. It would help us understand your world better, and perhaps make you feel more at home.”
To my surprise, Thrax’s expression shows genuine interest. “You wish to learn of our customs?” he asks carefully.
“Very much so,” Dr. Diaz confirms. “And it could be helpful for when we revive the others. The more we understand about your time, the better we can help all of you adjust.”
I watch Thrax consider this, noting how his shoulders relax slightly at the mention of helping his fellow gladiators. “The food was… different then,” he offers. “The spices, the preparation…”
“Yes!” Dr. Diaz’s enthusiasm is infectious. “Perhaps you could guide our kitchen staff? Help them understand the authentic flavors?”
As they discuss various dishes and customs, I notice something subtle in Thrax’s demeanor—a slight tension in his jaw, a fleeting shadow in his eyes when certain topics arise. But his interest in sharing his knowledge seems genuine, particularly when Dr. Diaz asks about specific foods and traditions .
“It’s settled then,” Dr. Diaz says, clearly pleased. “A small cultural exchange. We’ll keep it intimate, just key staff members. Would you be comfortable with that, Thrax?”
He nods, though I catch a brief hesitation. “Yes, it could be… interesting.” His choice of words strikes me as careful, measured.
After Dr. Diaz leaves, I turn to Thrax. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? We don’t have to proceed if you’re not comfortable.”
He meets my gaze, and for a moment, I see a complexity of emotions. “It might be good,” he says slowly, “to share some things from my time. To help the people who work with us to understand… maybe even appreciate.” He pauses, then adds quietly, “To help them understand my brothers when they wake.”
Something in his tone makes me want to probe deeper, but before I can, he turns back to our work. “What is the next word you want me to pronounce?”
As we return to our task, I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to his thoughts about the gathering than he’s letting on. But his desire to help his fellow gladiators seems to outweigh whatever reservations he might have.
I make a mental note to watch him carefully during the event, to be ready to support him if needed. For now, though, I follow his lead and focus on our work, letting the rhythm of Latin words fill the air between us once more.