Chapter Six
Mickey
“Hayes said he’d keep an eye out.” I paused. “He also said we’re welcome to go over and visit with his new puppy."
“Cool.”
I frowned. After our talk about the kitten, I’d expected a bigger reaction to the news of the puppy.
Aster looked back at me with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. He’d come home, chopped up some sweet potatoes, onions and carrots. While he set them all in the stock pot, I told him about my day.
He nodded, sort of, no not sort of. No, very agitated.
“Something wrong?”
Aster switched the crock pot on, and wiped his hands. “They’re going to build a mother fucking Generative AI data center here in Foggy Basin.” His tone was the same as if he was reporting that he’d witnessed a murder.
“What?” I blinked.
“A data center! For generative AI!”
“Isn’t ...” I swallowed, knowing that he was going to snap my head off but unsure how else to continue. “Isn’t that a good thing? Um, bringing industry...”
Aster’s look darkened considerably.
I scrambled to explain myself. “I mean, the Queen Gaming people moved in and that was awesome, they put so much back into the economy and—”
“It’s not the same!” Aster snapped, then rubbed a hand over his face. “How much do you know about Generative AI, Mickey?”
“Not... not much. I actually don’t really go online much, I mostly go on farmer forums, and look up, um, stuff for my hobby.
” Aster didn’t know yet that I knitted. For whatever reason I was shy to tell him.
I don’t know why. I didn’t think he’d judge me, but I was still sort of embarrassed to admit it.
“You don’t go online...” Aster breathed out and looked away, gazing out the window. “That’s probably true of lots of people in the town, huh?”
I nodded. “So, tell me why this is such a big issue?”
Aster pressed his hands together. “Right. So first, all the existing data centers use fresh water to cool the servers. Fresh water that people need to drink. Fresh water like in the lake. They use it to cool the servers and when it comes out it’s full of heavy metals and undrinkable.
And like, drinking water is already a limited resource.
Besides that, wherever they build it, they'll need to siphon the water from the lake, so that's more infrastucture to go in, and where? Through your fields?”
And that was just the start of it. By the time Aster had recounted all the environmental ills a data center could create, my head was spinning. Not to mention the fact that the only people profiting from it were heartless billionaires who clearly didn’t need the money at all.
“It's be noisy, too, right? My alpacas would never be calm again.”
Aster was fired up about the whole thing and he’d got me fired up as well.
“We have to fight this. But how?”
“If it’sconnected to whoever was skulking around the farm last night, it can’t be on the up and up, right?” Aster tapped his fingers on his chin. “They’re on the downlow, which means they don’t want the locals to know about it until it’s too late. Maybe they’re getting some dodgy consents?”
I shrugged. Aster was so passionate and so fiery it was kind of distracting.
“I have to research this.” Aster stood up and went to get his laptop.
I moved to the couch.
My usual routine had been utterly upended, not just by Aster’s presence but by this possible data center and the guy wandering in the night.
I couldn’t help myself. I had to knit.
I flicked on my Bluetooth speaker, ]putting on a podcast about books and dug out my current knitting project. A lacy crop top that Harlow had requested, loose fitting in pale cream. The wool was spun from our alpacas and undyed, lovely to work with.
Aster started tapping on his laptop.
“Is the podcast bothering you?”
“No, it’s fine.” Aster sounded distracted. Best not to interrupt the genius at work.
I relaxed into the familiar rhythm, checking the pattern every now and then and letting my mind wander.
Maybe I shouldn’t get involved in this whole data center thing?
But I had to... I couldn’t let it go ahead.
What was I actually worried about?
Being so close to Aster all the time and letting something slip, maybe?
I wanted this house to be a refuge for him, somewhere comfortable where he could fully be himself.
Come to that, I should be comfortable to be myself as well.
I glanced at my hands, all big and rough with calluses, knitting a delicate top for my sister.
I’d been shy to show Aster this, but that meant I was hiding even more from him.
I couldn’t do that. I had to lead by example and show that my quirks were part of me.
The afternoon wore on. I gave the alpacas their evening feed and check over. Aster came with me, armed with carrot sticks and we spent a pleasant while petting them.
The soup Aster made for dinner was delicious, even more than I expected, and he’d gone overboard with breads to eat with it.
“So, you’re a knitter?” Aster’s expression was neutral. “You’ve kept that hidden.”
“Yeah,” I smiled at my soup. “I guess I was embarrassed about it.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
Aster smiled warmly. “It’s cool. I mean, I do all kinds of craft for drag and I never feel embarrassed about that.”
“Because your drag is awesome.”
“Aw,” Aster blushed and dropped his gaze down this time. “I wasn’t fishing for compliments, I was just saying.”
“I know.” I reached for another slice of bread and buttered it. “Thanks though. I guess I wanted you to think of me as Harlow’s cool older brother still, and knitting doesn’t really fit that profile.”
“Mm. You’re cool.” Aster said. “Actually, knitting makes you more cool. More men should be in touch with their softer sides. It’s good for emotional health and like, being well-rounded as a human being.”
“I guess I never thought of it that way. Harlow rolls her eyes but she gets custom pieces out of it so she never actually says anything. I guess... I imagine what my Dad would say, if he knew, and then I...”
I trailed off. I hadn’t meant to bring up something so sad.
Aster made a soft noise and took my hand in his, squeezing it gently. “Obviously I didn’t know your dad as well as you did, but from what I knew, he was a cool guy, and I can’t imagine him thinking less of you for this. Wasn’t...” Aster broke off, forehead crinkling. “Wasn’t he a painter?”
I blinked. Most of Mom and Dad’s stuff had been packaged up with the help of a well-meaning aunt and sent to a thrift store in Hartsville or stored in the attic. But... hadn’t he done the painting in the hallway? The one of the lake?
“I can’t believe I forgot about that...” I breathed softly. It was coming back to me. Dad on a Sunday afternoon with his easel out, pottering away with oil paints.
“Maybe you blocked it, somehow?” Aster suggested, voice gentle. “Sometimes brains do that to protect us.”
I nodded slowly, making a mental note to go up to the attic and open some of those boxes. Not today though. Maybe after all the data center stuff was behind us.
Aster was still holding my hand. It felt so natural, I hadn’t noticed. My chest ached with longing — and then I felt like a creeper. Aster was so much younger than me, I was sheltering him and here I was thinking about how much I wanted him.
I was a terrible person.
I withdrew my hand.