23. The Round Friends Have Opinions
THE ROUND FRIENDS HAVE OPINIONS
GRANT
Once Wonder Garden is secured, we move the animals back from the crime boat. The ship was defensible, but the rescue center has proper enclosures, refrigerated feed, and equipment designed for something other than theatrical piracy.
I'm used to the solitary rhythm of meals consumed between tasks, calories as fuel rather than experience.
But Grace starts appearing at the wildlife center with offerings.
A protein bar she found in the supply bedroom.
A bag of chips from the snack corner of the Sunrise Grill.
Half a churro, cold, bitten, which she presents to me with the solemnity of a sacrament.
"I already had some," she says, offering the churro. "But I saved you the good half. The half with more cinnamon sugar. I counted the sugar crystals. This half is superior."
"You counted the sugar crystals?"
"I estimated the sugar crystals based on visual assessment. The methodology wasn't rigorous but the conclusion is sound."
I take the churro. I eat it while she watches, while Captain watches, while Pepper's small head pokes out of my jacket and watches too. Pepper has learned that Grace sometimes arrives with her bottle or a handful of approved greens, and Pepper has no dignity about either.
"You don't have to bring me food," I say. "I'm capable of feeding myself."
"I know." She sits down on the floor near the capybara enclosure, her back against the wall, her legs stretched out in front of her. "But you get focused on the animals and you forget that you're also an animal who needs feeding."
"I don't forget."
"You forgot lunch yesterday. You forgot breakfast the day before. Joel mentioned it. Joel notices things about resource distribution."
"Joel told you I wasn't eating?"
"Joel told Beck he was concerned about your caloric intake and Beck told me because Beck tells me everything now. It's like I unlocked a conversational achievement and the reward is all of Beck's thoughts, constantly." She's smiling when she says it.
"You and Beck," I say carefully. "You and Joel."
"Yeah." She doesn't shy away from the topic. "Is that... are you okay with that? Because I don't know the rules. I don't think there are rules. Nobody gave me a manual for this particular apocalypse scenario and I'm kind of making it up as I go."
"I'm okay with it. There aren't rules," I say. "Not pre-established ones. You build the rules as you go. That's how social structures work in novel environments."
"That sounds very science-y for 'I don't know either.'"
"It is very science-y for 'I don't know either.'"
She laughs. The sound makes Captain ruffle his feathers in acknowledgment. Fernando lifts his head slightly, confirms that the noise is just Grace, and goes back to being unbothered.
"I like you, Grant," she says. "I don't know what it's going to turn into. But I like you and I wanted you to know that."
"I like you too," I say. "I've liked you since you asked me if the capybaras had opinions about the political situation."
"They do have opinions. Fernando is clearly a centrist. Diego is more radical. You can tell by the way he looks at authority figures."
"You can't tell political leanings from capybara eye contact."
"You can't tell me that. You can only tell yourself that. I have my own system."
She grins at me. I smile back.
In the enclosure, Diego opens one eye, assesses the situation, and closes the eye again. Diego has opinions.
I'm starting to believe she's right about that.
She finds me again the next day. And the day after. And the day after that.
It becomes a pattern. She shows up at the wildlife center in the late afternoon, after the day's work is done.
After the perimeter checks and the barricade maintenance and whatever chaotic events have transpired in the hours between morning and now.
She brings food, sits with the round friends, and asks questions.
So many questions.
"Do zombies hibernate? Like, if it got cold enough, would they just... stop?"
"Their metabolic processes are unclear. The tissue degradation suggests cellular death but the continued motor function implies some form of ongoing energy consumption. Cold might slow them down. I don't know if it would stop them."
"What if we trained Captain to lead them off a cliff?"
"There aren't any cliffs in the park."
"What if we built a cliff?"
"Grace."
"I'm brainstorming. Brainstorming doesn't have to be practical. That's the whole point."
She asks about herd behavior, predator-prey dynamics, pack structures, dominance hierarchies, and whether animals can sense when something is wrong with another animal.
"Prey animals are incredibly attuned to threat indicators," I tell her.
"So the round friends would know."
"The round friends would know."
"Would they warn us?"
I look at Fernando, who's lying in a patch of afternoon sun with his eyes closed, radiating contentment. And at Diego, who's in the water feature doing absolutely nothing but doing it with conviction.
"They might not warn us in a way we could understand," I say. "But their behavior would change. They'd position themselves with escape routes in mind. It's survival."
Fernando shifts in his sun patch. Diego surfaces from the water feature and shakes himself, droplets catching the light.
"You're not like the others," Grace says. "Joel sees me and he translates. Beck sees me and he adopts." She pauses. "You see me and you wait."
"Is that bad?"
"I don't know." Her voice is smaller than I've ever heard it. "I've never had someone wait before. I don't know what to do when someone gives me room without going anywhere."
"I'm good at waiting," I say. "I've spent years watching animals. You don't rush animals. You meet them where they are."
"I'm not an animal."
"No. You're better. You can tell me if I'm doing it wrong."
She laughs. "You're not doing it wrong."
We sit in the silence together. The sun moves across the sky, marking time in the way that existed before humans and will exist after us.
Grace finds my hand on the concrete floor between us and rests hers on top of it. "Hey Grant?"
"Yeah?"
"The round friends think you're good."
"The round friends told you that?"
"Fernando communicated it through eye contact. Diego confirmed via vibes."
"Vibes aren't scientifically measurable."
"Vibes are only scientifically measurable. You science people just haven't figured out the instrument yet."
"I think you might be right about that," I say.
She squeezes my hand. Then she lets go, stands up, stretches, and says something about Kevin getting into the candy room again, and Beck owing her a rematch at a card game I didn't know they were playing.
I watch her go. Fernando opens one eye, watches Grace leave, and closes the eye again.
"I know," I tell him.
Fernando doesn't respond. Fernando is a capybara. But I imagine he agrees.
Diego agrees too.
The round friends have opinions. And right now, their opinion is that something worth waiting for is beginning.
I agree.