CHAPTER 4
Agan’s words are all I can think about all night, even as I explain that animals on Earth can’t talk and what CGI is.
When I wake up the next morning, even though I’m not scheduled, I go to Phantoms anyway.
I force a smile for the others who work here. They are some of my favorite people, but seeing them right now makes my skin prickle with rage I can’t release.
That mask slips when I sit across from Phantom.
“What is wrong?” they ask.
“The alien I was with in the booth yesterday, I need to know his name. I don’t care what his restrictions are.”
There’s a pause, crackling in the air. “He has not put any restrictions on you knowing his name. He is called Sirin. Do you require medical attention?”
Sirin.
I exhale and it feels like my body could collapse in on itself. “No. No, I’m okay.”
“Do you want me to ban him? It might be difficult, but… your safety and happiness is my primary concern.”
“No, I still want to see Sirin, I just… I just didn’t want him to be someone else.” I take a deep breath and then ask, “Wait, why would it be difficult?”
There’s a pause and a deep static crackle.
“I shouldn’t have said that. And, even though I already have, I can’t answer you now.”
I want to press him for an answer, but I don’t. I want to ask a half dozen questions I know I shouldn’t.
“Just promise me that if I ever find out who he is, I won’t hate myself for it?”
“That’s not a determination I can make for you.” They tap a static hand on their desk. “But I do not believe you would object to his associations.”
I might object to my own.
“If a client was speaking about people who work here in an… awful way, what would you do about it?”
“It depends on what they said, and what services they employ when they’re here.”
I replay Agan’s words in my head. They weren’t threatening or specifically cruel…
“Can you just mark me off limits for all other Opodeans.”
“Of course. Do you want me to remove Sirin’s favorite designation as well?”
“No.” Because even though I have too many questions… I’m not willing to give him up.
Maybe I am an addict.
“Thank you.” I stand to leave, but I don’t make it to the door.
“Cherry?” My name is soft, but it seems like they whispered it in my ear. When I turn back, they say, “Tell me who you were worried he was.”
“My best friend’s brother.”
“Agan… he is a client here. Should I restrict him?”
I hesitate. I don’t know if it’s a decision that should be solely up to me. But if the people who work here don’t deserve to be treated the way I think he might…
“Yes.”