CHAPTER 5 #2
At that last word, Sylvus goes stiff. After a moment, he wordlessly resumes cleaning up the kitchen.
Oookay. Not in the mood to talk shop.
If I’m honest, I don’t really want to, either. The milking was… more intimate than I expected. I thought I’d just zone out. Back in those last few years on Earth, I used to charge this kid at my school a hundred bucks to suck my toes for ten minutes. Easiest money I ever made.
If it’s like last night every time…
I might be in over my head.
But, hey, what’s new?
Sylvus finishes cleaning the kitchen, then plants me in front of the TV, stringing me up in that ergonomic zero-gravity position again.
The screen comes to life, but casts no light—it’s like an animated piece of paper.
I expect some incomprehensible alien programming, but instead, the intro to the Planet Earth documentaries plays.
Suddenly, I see what the ICSS has made into the biggest taboo for humans: an image of that little blue planet.
“Sit tight,” he says, looking pleased at his joke as he walks out of the room.
“Wait, where are you going?!”
There’s no answer. I would try to listen for him, but I’m drawn to the forbidden familiarity on the screen in front of me.
Eagles. Lions. Cheetahs.
Memories stir. The friend’s house where I used to sit on the couch, coloring while we watched animal documentaries.
The plush penguin I got for my birthday after I became obsessed with them.
The way I sobbed in an ICSS sterilization chamber when I realized I’d never be able to go to a zoo again, or walk in a grove of hemlock trees, or lie out in a field and see the same sky I was born under.
Emotion ripples through me.
My eyes sting. Then water. Then overflow.
I hold my breath to keep from crying. A sniffle slips out. Then another.
I can’t wipe my eyes, I can’t rub my nose, there’s nobody to ask for a tissue.
Soon, my body shakes with bitter sobs.
I hate it. I hate that I can’t hold it in anymore. I hate that I’m having an emotional breakdown in the living room of an Arachnoid on Zairion Prime after my latest get-rich-quick scheme predictably fell apart.
God, I’m an idiot.
Warmth and the smell of licorice suddenly surround me.
It makes me cry even harder. I curl my hands toward my face instinctively, and they actually move. The silk wrapping me is gone, and the pressure that remains is from Sylvus’s arms.
I lean into his soothing warmth.
“What happened?” he asks, voice oddly tender.
“I’m stupid,” I sob.
His fingers run through my hair. “You’re not stupid. Just tell me.”
I gesture at the screen, trying to explain that I’m having a moment of weakness, but I can’t get more than two words out at once.
Sylvus immediately turns the screen off. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d like it. I… I should have realized…”
There’s real regret in his tone, and I throw my arms around his neck, clinging and crying even harder.
One arm cradles my hips, and the other strokes my back.
“I don’t know why this is happening,” I sob. “I’m not like this…”
“The hormones are—”
“I’m better than this! I’m better than fucking hormones…”
“Andromeda…”
“And now I yelled at you when you’re being nice to me. I’m so sorry.”
“Shhh…”
“I always fuck everything up…”
His hand presses firmly against my head, holding me to his chest. “Andromeda. Stop talking.” Command laces his deep tone.
My breath catches as his warmth makes it into my brain.
“Stop thinking,” he continues. “Just breathe.”
I obey. For once, my instinct isn’t to do the opposite of what I’m told.
The steady rhythm of Sylvus’s heart—one of his hearts, anyway—under my ear grounds me. My body slowly relaxes and regulates.
He offers me a handkerchief woven of silk, and I burst into tears again.
His brow furrows. “Andromeda? I…”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry. That’s just so nice. You made it for me, and I’m just going to get it all snotty and—”
He uses it to wipe my cheeks dry, and the wave of emotion passes.
I blow my nose and sniffle. “Bet you’re really second-guessing putting me in front of a client now, huh?”
“I am.” The quiet, murmured words catch me off-guard.
I blink and look up at him, trying to understand what those words mean, why they seem to tug at my sternum.
“At least not yet,” he says gently. Unconvincingly.
I’m not out of chances to prove myself, though. “Right, the… transformation is still really fresh, right? I just need some time to adjust.”
He’s quiet for a moment, then nods. “That may be sufficient. Some humans experience more side effects than others.”
“Alright… cool.” I sniff again and rub my cheeks. “Thank you.”
“I’ll put something else on for you.”
I hesitate. “I… do want to watch it. You were… right that I’d like it. I guess I just liked it too much. The ICSS—they banned us from any exposure to Earth artifacts. So it was just… overwhelming.”
“Alright.” The screen comes back to life, showing a splashing hippo.
I ride out another wave of emotion, clinging to Sylvus’s arm.
“Is there anything else you need?”
I can’t pull my eyes from the screen. “Can you… stay with me?”
A pause. “Yeah. Yeah, I can stay with you.”
I melt back into him and let the brilliant colors of the screen transport me back to Earth.