12. Wallace
Wallace
Wallace snapped a picture of a waterlily, then compared it to the six he’d already taken. This was definitely the best one, the fragile pink bloom opening joyously in the foreground, while the lily pads scattered over the lake gave a sense of calm beauty.
He sent it to Volt with a message. Thank you for breakfast, Daddy. I’m thinking of you.
He got his reply only moments later. This is gorgeous, baby. You’re getting to be quite the photographer.
He grinned, since no one could see him. He might have done a bit of research on photography techniques when he started sending Daddy pictures of his walks each day.
This one executed the rule of thirds perfectly, drawing the eye to the lily, then bringing in the tranquil beauty of the pond. Thank you, Daddy, he replied.
He’d even been thinking about asking Angel more about his preferred medium. Wallace had no desire to be more than an amateur, taking pictures to make his Daddy smile and receive a little praise, but maybe photography would give them something to bond over.
Enjoying your walk? Daddy asked.
Wallace’s smile didn’t let up. Even with his dreaded Tuesday afternoon meeting coming up, he couldn’t bring himself to care that much. An early breakfast with his Daddy, plus getting through the scary “why can’t I touch you?” conversation successfully, made him feel like he was walking on air.
He’d been terrified to bring it up, worrying over it and reading everything he could get his hands on for weeks. He’d catastrophized that the reason would be something really bad, or that Daddy would be angry with him for pointing it out.
In his experience, bringing up his own needs or giving critical feedback was usually just asking to be belittled and bullied.
But once he’d managed to convince Volt there was something real going on, he’d just seemed confused. And then he’d apologized, thought about his behavior, and made a plan to change it.
Was this what a healthy relationship looked like? It was still blowing Wallace’s mind.
Daddy was just so good to him.
Even now, he was out taking a walk because Daddy was taking care of him. Just sending the pictures made him feel closer. He was following Daddy’s rules. He was bringing his Daddy happiness.
Yes, Wallace wrote back. Thank you for my rules, Daddy.
The pond is lovely, and the trees smell heavenly.
He had no idea where all of these poetic words kept coming from.
But one thing that he’d learned, thanks to Daddy’s influence in his life, was to really appreciate the little details of his walks.
The slight changes of the seasons. The lily that had been closed yesterday, but had unfurled today.
Maybe I could bring you to visit sometime.
He thought it might be a bit awkward—his boyfriend had literally been manufactured in the plant a couple hundred yards away—but maybe not.
Volt had to go in for repairs sometimes, just like Wallace went to the doctor, so maybe this wouldn’t be too different from stopping by the grounds at a hospital to enjoy the gardens.
I’d love that, baby. Let me know when a good time would be.
I’ll try to plan something, he replied, already thinking about his schedule. He’d always felt so stressed out at work, like he was perpetually behind.
But he’d been learning over the past couple weeks that a lot of that anxiety was of his own making. When he missed a day of work or came in late, the world kept turning.
Volt was opening his eyes in all sorts of unexpected ways.
He wandered back through the trees, sending Daddy a second photo of a shadow that fell on a tree trunk in a particular way. Now that they were dating, he wasn’t limited to just one photo a day.
Ooh! That’s cool, Daddy wrote back.
Wallace didn’t reply yet, because for once he didn’t feel like he had to carefully hoard and parcel out each message. He wanted to get a picture of the little hill up ahead, and then he’d write back.
But I’d still like more pictures of my creampuff, Volt sent.
Wallace considered it. He’d daringly sent three since they started dating, two of them while he was laying in bed at night, without a shirt. If he could do that, surely he could take one here, right?
He found a spot under a shady tree where the bright but uneven sun wouldn’t overexpose the shot, smiled, and snapped the selfie.
Looking at it with a critical eye, he decided it was… not too bad, really. He’d forgone his bow tie this morning and opened his collar, so the navy blue shirt framed his face.
He figured he probably wouldn’t get a better one, so he sent it off.
“Looking good, Wallace!”
Wallace didn’t bother turning to try and find the voice that had come out of nowhere. He knew that upbeat inflection, and it hadn’t come from a human.
“Hi, Maxamillion,” he grumbled. He’d been lost in his Daddy daydreams, and didn’t appreciate the interruption. “Did it occur to you that I was doing something private, on a walk that I purposefully took away from other people?”
“Oh. Sorry. I’ll go.”
Wallace blew out his breath. On the one hand, this thoughtless, impulsive type of thing was exactly why Wallace freaked out at the idea of Orbit’s safety being left in Maxamillion’s figurative hands. Research and design, fine. But cute little apologies wouldn’t cut it if someone got really hurt.
On the other hand, Maxamillion was kind of… fun to be around. Or at least he might be if he wasn’t just being friendly to avoid Wallace turning him in.
Wallace could never tell, and he hated that.
Although…
“Hey, wait!” Wallace called out. And then, when there was no answer, “Maxamillion?”
“Yes?” Max answered eagerly.
Good grief. “How did you know I was calling you?” Wallace asked. “I thought you left.”
He could almost hear the eye roll in Max’s answer. “If you must know, I have a passive listening algorithm set up across the campus. If someone says my name, I log it, and tune in if the conversation is relevant.”
Okay, okay, that made sense. Maxamillion wasn’t spying on everything happening on the property, just when it concerned him.
Wallace didn’t want to like the disembodied knowledge, but he was getting to the point where he more or less trusted him on stuff like this.
Maxamillion might be immature and irresponsible, but he didn’t seem to lie about factual information.
If anything, he was far too honest about blithely breaking the law.
“Sooooo,” Maxamillion asked, “you called me?”
“Yeah, uh, I was just thinking about the clothing thing you did a few weeks ago.”
“Yes!” Maxamillion enthused. “I can see you took my advice. That outfit really does look good on you. Much better than what you were wearing before.”
Wallace had a cream-colored cardigan folded over his arm, due to the warm weather, and he assumed Max must have seen him in it earlier.
He’d been wearing the soft, thin sweaters recommended by Max’s app in the office all week, rather than suit jackets, and the change felt really good.
They were cozy. They made him feel relaxed and warm, instead of penned in and uncomfortable.
And, he’d realized, it didn’t even make him stand out that much at work. He’d previously chosen to wear suit jackets on his own initiative.
Part of all of that bullshit about making his father proud of him. Trying to “dress for success” because he lacked the confidence he needed to lead his department.
Still, he didn’t need Max to tell him how unattractive he’d looked before.
“Yes, well, uh, thank you. I was kind of thinking, though, that an app like that would be highly marketable. Stores might want it. Or fashion websites. Or it could be sold as a personal app that people could take into different stores with them and update as they shopped.” He was making all of this up as he went along, but it sounded plausible.
“I’d been thinking about that, too!” Maxamillion agreed.
Was he always this bouncy? Just listening to him, Wallace knew that Max would be instantly popular if he ever revealed himself to the world.
Where he’d promptly forget about Wallace again. There was no reason to even think about this as a friendship.
“Do you want a market analysis?” Max went on. “There are some stores that already have something similar, but I think I could optimize the algorithms based on still photos or even security cameras that stores already have, and…”
“Stop!” Wallace interrupted. “You can’t use security cameras, or any footage taken without someone’s consent. That’s illegal.”
“Oh, right. Of course not! But stores could put up a booth or something with cameras at different angles, though really it would be nice if they could get some close up and distance shots.”
This was why interactions with Max left Wallace on edge, no matter how upbeat and amusing he was.
Max knew what was and wasn’t illegal, but he seemed to think of laws as optional. Would he slip in a few security camera shots if he could? Probably.
“How about you work on a market analysis, and maybe get it into a format that could be packaged as a single download for an individual consumer to stock with their own pictures.” Like I could do at home, he privately added.
“Maybe have a few settings like formal wear, sports wear, sleep wear, uh, intimate wear, I guess.”
Was that coming too close to what he wanted to use it for? Hopefully not.
“Yeah, I could do that. But I want my name on this project,” Max countered. “Or Ben’s name if I don’t have a body yet and a separate job with Orbit by then.”
“You’d still want to work with Orbit?” Wallace asked, surprised.
“Sure.” He could almost hear the shrug in Maxamillion’s words. It was crazy how much he could convey without having a physical manifestation. “I like the projects. As long as I can work with Ben, get a decent salary, and go home at the end of the day, I’m in.”
“Huh,” Wallace said out loud. He hadn’t expected that. “Okay, um, sounds good.” He wasn’t making any promises until Maxamillion was actually in a body.
And the rest of the company was safe.