Gap Stories #12

[A Week In The Life of Luci]

Log Date: 8/18/12768

Data Sources: unknown

What does life mean when you cannot die?

This is the question that is posed to, and by, every Schrödinger. Set aside the method of their quantum immortality; set aside the technicalities, and the scientific questions, and the implications that such creatures hold for the general model of universal mechanics. Turn instead to philosophy and ethics; set aside the how, and think about the why.

What does life mean when death is not an option?

And yes, while death is technically an option for Schrödingers, it is not a permanent option like it is for most other creatures. Being alive, to a Schrödinger, is what falling asleep is to most organic creatures. It is something that you have to do eventually, no matter how hard you try to avoid it — an inevitable fact of one’s existence. In the same way, Schrödingers do not get to choose to live; immortality is a fact of their existence, foisted upon them by the circumstances of their design.

And so what does life mean when death is withheld from you?

Perhaps that is a question that should be answered by one of the people that has to contend with that question.

Event Log: 8/18/12768

Sunthorn Bastion: Nympho’s Quarters

11:42am SGT

We begin by bearing witness to the indignity of watching an ancient vampire trying to rouse her pet cat(boi), starting by yanking the curtains open, and then by trying to forcibly evict him from the bed.

“What? How are you still asleep? It’s literally the middle of the day and we are in the middle of a war. C’mon, out of bed, now!”

“Nnnnnnyyyooooooo I’m tired!”

“I don’t care! Get up, you lazy limpdick! You’ve got messages to deliver!”

“The only reason it’s limp is because you were riding it most of last night! Which is also why I’m tired! Let me sleep!”

“You can sleep when you’re dead or when your messages are delivered, I don’t care which. Get up! I’ve got classified information I need you to deliver to Drill!”

“No! Drill is a mean little bitch and his temper’s about as short as his height and I don’ wanna! Just have Legaci send it over an encrypted line!”

“That’s not going to work for this message; it needs to be delivered in person. C’mon! Up! Now!”

“No! I need at least ten hours of sleep. Go ‘way.”

“Fine then, I guess we’re doing this the hard way—”

“Wha?! Hey! Leggo, that’s my tail—”

“I’m aware! You’re leaving this bed one way or another!”

“Stobbit! I’m warning you, Sierra!”

“Warn away, little kitt— OW! You little shit, you bit me! Alright, that’s it—”

“Bring it, bitch, I’ll take you any day!”

“Oh, we’ll see who’s taking who, alright. Get over here—”

Fifteen minutes later finds both parties exhausted, sprawled in a mess of sheets and covers after having a vehemently philosophical discussion about their difference of opinions. In the absence of a true and clear victor, something of a truce has been called as they take the time to catch their breath, and assess their respective positions and leverage.

“I hate you.” Luci pants as he rubs a hand over his face.

“Yeah, well, you’re way too stubborn sometimes.” Sierra retorts, puffing some of her platinum hair out of her eyes.

“We’re both stubborn, that’s the problem. You think you can push me around all the time and you don’t take no for an answer until I turn around and dick you down.”

“You act like that’s such a terrible thing.”

“It would save both of us a lot of effort if you’d just take me at face value. I don’t even care if you push me around sometimes, because you do and I normally don’t mind it!” Luci protests. “But you can’t push me around on everything. I don’t ask for a lot, Sierra, and on the rare occasions when I ask for something, you better bet I’m gonna fight for it tooth and claw.”

“Whatever. Do you still wanna go back go sleep?”

Luci throws his arms in the air. “Are you kidding me? I’m wide awake now! I just spent fifteen minutes pinning you down and—” Cutting himself off, he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and blowing it out as he lets his arms drop. “Whooooo. Breathing. Relaxing. It is not worth fighting you over this.”

“There you go.”

“I hate you.”

“I know. It makes things spicier when you’re riled up.” Sierra says as she starts to sit up, and glances down. “You wrecked my uniform, though. Gonna have to get a shower and get cleaned up and into a fresh change.”

“The only person you have to blame for that is yourself.”

“You’re the one that made a mess of me.”

“If you don’t want to be made a mess of, which you obviously do, then leave me alone when I’m trying to sleep.” Luci grunts, rolling off the bed and standing up. “Also not up for negotiation: I’m getting a shower before I start delivering messages.”

Realizing where this is going, Sierra scrambles off the bed at the same time Luci bolts for the bathroom door. The two get there at the same time, with another scuffle erupting as they fight with each other over who will get to take a shower first.

“I have a meeting I need to go to in fifteen minutes! I need it more!”

“You should’ve thought about that before you tried to drag me out of bed! Besides, didn’t you want me to deliver that message to Drill as soon as possible? The sooner I get my shower, the faster it gets delivered!”

“Whatever happened to ladies first?!”

“You’re not a lady, you’re a terminally licentious vampire slut!”

“Says the man-whore that’s always on top of her!”

“I’m a twink, not a man-whore, thank you very much!”

“What’s the differe— OW! You bit me, you little shit!”

“And I’ll bite you again if you don’t let go!”

“Oh really? You wanna get in a biting contest with a vampire? You think that’s gonna end well for you?”

“My teeth are just as sharp as yours, bitch!”

“We’ll see about that. Get over here—”

Event Log: 8/19/12768

Sunthorn Bastion: Southern Observation Deck

12:17pm SGT

So it seems we do not yet have an answer for the question posed at the beginning. And, given the disposition of our subject, it is unclear if we will acquire an answer for that question anytime soon. But let us continue to observe nonetheless, and see if anything can be gleaned about the philosophy of a creature that cannot stay dead.

The following day finds Luci heading to the southern observation deck — not out of any need to do so, but simply for the sake of having something to do. With his messages delivered and tasks handled, he finds himself at a loss for what to do with the rest of his day. Barring any imposed responsibilities, all that is apparently left to him is to impose his presence on others — and so he does exactly that.

His arrival on the observation deck is without fanfare, and goes largely unnoticed by others — which is how he prefers it. After all, there are more important figures here, bigger names and bigger titles which deserve all of the attention. Indeed, the absence of attention to his presence allows him to raid the buffet table uncontested, at least until a hand catches his right as he’s reaching for a shrimp skewer. Though when he sees who it is, he smiles, or at least attempts it, since his mouth is crammed with no less than three pecan tassies.

“Really?” Tony says, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you were a cat, not a hamster.”

It’s several seconds before he’s able to reply, mostly on account of having to chew and swallow. “Look, can you blame me? It’s been decades since I’ve seen a pecan tassie! I don’t know any stores that make them; it’s always from home kitchens. Where’d these ones come from?”

“You can thank Songbird for that.” Tony says, snatching a napkin from a nearby pile and using it to wipe the powdered sugar from around Luci’s mouth. “He made this batch, and there is only the one platter, so leave some for others. These aren’t storebought, so we can’t just pull another batch out of the freezer and chuck them in the microwave.”

“What? No way, Songbird made these? I didn’t know he could bake!” Luci says, looking back over his shoulder at the platter. “Damn, it’s no wonder they’re so good. They are homemade.”

“He is a man of many skills. Now, why don’t you stick with me and leave this poor buffet table alone?” Tony says, balling up the napkin and tossing it in the incineration chute.

“Well, if you insist.” Luci says, snatching up the shrimp skewer and following Tony as she turns and starts walking across the deck. Across the room is a wide, unbroken window that stretches away in either direction for quite a distance, offering a view from the southern side of Sunthorn, gazing down on the planet that the Bastion is presently orbiting around. The deck, far from being empty, is currently host to a delegation from the planet below, and the higher-ranking Valiant staff that are meeting with them. “So what’s all this about?”

“This is the Halcyon delegation. These are the leaders of the mobile city on the planet down there, the ones we are supposed to be helping with their… pest control problem.” Tony replies, reaching up to tuck some of her short black hair behind one ear. “This meeting is the welcome, intended to set the tone for the partnership we’ll be undertaking.”

Luci wrinkles his nose. “It’s all so… political. Can you put it in simple terms for me? I don’t get why we’re here or what we’re doing.”

Tony sighs. “God bless the simpletons. It must be nice, being a dumb cat.” Tucking her data slate under one arm, she uses the other to guide Luci around a group of staff on their way to the window. “We are here because the Collective have deployed Leviathans to this planet, and the Halcyon government needs help fending them off. This planet is a preserve world for the Marshy Republic, where they conduct research and study the natural environment on a largely undeveloped world. Because of that, there are no planetary defenses in place, no garrisons to defend city and population centers, because the only population center is Genista outpost, which contains the long-term research population and support staff.”

“Oh. So this is like a paradise world, then.” Luci says as they arrive to the slanted window, gazing down through the glass to see a planet that seems, at least from this side, to largely be composed of oceans, with one major continent and another two scattered some distance from it — all bearing the telltale green of photosynthetic flora.

“Yes. A highly coveted jewel in the Marshy Republic’s catalogue of planets.” Tony says, examining her data slate. “Naturally habitable world in a stable orbit around a standard yellow star. No axial tilt, so no seasons, but because there are almost no bodies of land located around the equatorial latitudes, the oceans take the brunt of the heat that would otherwise turn land into desert. Days on this world are a little bit longer, clocking in at about thirty-two hours for a full planetary rotation, but that’s not too bad compared to planets that take weeks or months to complete a rotation.”

“Wow… so does that mean people get to sleep for sixteen hours on this world?” Luci says, taking sudden interest in Halcyon’s astrogeography.

“No. Those that are adapted to Halcyon’s rotational variance typically sleep for ten hours a day, on average. Newcomers to the world, and other short-term visitors, tend to remain on an eight-hour sleep shift with midday naps to balance out the length of a day.” Tony answers, flicking through to another page of the planet’s briefing. “There are naturalization classes for those that would like to adapt to Halcyon’s day-night cycle. It looks like they have enough population turnover to warrant a rolling class year-round. And a year, for them, appears to be somewhere on the order of four hundred days and change.”

“Hmm. Slow planet.” Luci remarks, folding his arms as he finishes with his shrimp skewer. “Long days, long years. No seasons, you said?”

“Correct. The orbit isn’t a perfect circle, so there’s some weather variance over the course of the year, but not enough to produce seasons with defined characteristics.” Tony says, tucking the data slate under her arm again. “I hear it can be quite nice. Stable weather year-round. If they allowed residential populations, it would be as simple as finding a latitude you liked and settling down there.”

Luci scratches behind one of his fluffy ears. “Seems like a perfect world. Why don’t they let people live here, instead of trying to colonize dirtball planets that barely have more than a few drops of water to their name?”

“Planets that have developed their own ecosystem without external influence are scientific goldmines. They give scientists a window into the different ways that life can develop, and offer a glimpse at an ecosystem that is entirely unique from the shared ecosystem that’s been created by the interstellar travel that links together populated worlds.” Tony explains. “If they allowed this planet to become residential, people would bring the common ecosystem with them. Everything from farming to animals to pets to bacteria would contaminate this environment. You could argue that just by being here, the research team has probably already introduced foreign bacteria into this ecosphere.”

Luci scrunches his nose. “So this world’s off-limits just because they don’t want to contaminate their perfect petri dish? Doesn’t sound like a good use of a habitable planet to me.”

“Perhaps it’s a good thing you’re not making the policy decisions, then.” Tony says, tucking the slate back under her arm. “Life that develops in isolation from the wider galactic ecosphere may possess unique properties and traits that can contribute to advancements in the field of science, which in turn can contribute to the development of new cures or technologies. The introduction of invasive species from the common galactic ecosphere could result in the extinction of native species on this world, which may permanently put those discoveries beyond our reach. And presumably, the potential for new discoveries is why the Collective has staked out a presence on this world, to claim it for themselves and eventually assimilate it into their vast genetic library.”

“If it’s just the one city on the planet, why hasn’t the Collective taken over the planet yet?” Luci asks, turning and flicking his skewer into the recycling bin as one is wheeled past them. “I figured they’d have this shit sewn up in a snap.”

“A good question. The Halcyon delegation says that the Collective appears to be taking the long way around with this planet.” Tony replies, the surface of the planet reflected in her icy blue eyes. “They are burrowed deep beneath the earth, apparently where it is easier for them to grow their Leviathans, safe from attack. Evidently the ones they have been sending after the city have been small ones, enough for the city’s defense measures to handle, but they have slowly begun getting larger.”

“Getting too big for the cannons to handle, I suppose?” Luci guesses. “Big enough that they actually need to be handled by Titans now?”

“Essentially. The city itself does have a Titan squad they’ve been training up ever since the attacks started, but they’re a novice group.” Tony confirms. “That’s why we’ve been called here, to provide them some backup.”

“We’ve only got one Titan pilot though, right?” Luci says, turning and scanning through the people present on the observation deck. “The little one, the uh… Ratchet’s kid.”

“Renchiko, yes. Most of her pilot experience is in the Shrike, but this will give her an opportunity to get in some proper Titan pilot experience. Plus it allows the Marshy Republic to free up resources they otherwise would’ve committed to this world, and it allows the Valiant to take a breather from the more intensive commitments we’ve been deployed to.” Tony says, her attention remaining on the planet below. “Our staff need a bit of downtime after the back-to-back evacuation operations we’ve been running, and it gives us time to repair and restock equipment.”

“Has been kinda hot and heavy for the last six months, hasn’t it.” Luci remarks faintly, still studying those present on the observation deck before his gaze settles on a familiar, blue-hair figure patiently entertaining a few members from the delegation. “How’s the bigshot doing?  I heard he was having a tough time adjusting to everything that’s changed.”

“Are you surprised? He ran off to rescue his girlfriend and came back to find the galaxy on fire.” Tony points out. “The orphan kids he was taking care of are all grown up, the galaxy kept spinning, people moved on. Now he’s trying to catch up, even though he’s constantly worrying about his girlfriend and whether she’s okay.”

“It’s not that bad, is it?” Luci asks. “I mean, yeah, a lot changed while he was gone, but all the day-to-day stuff is pretty much the same, right? Nations are all the same, news channels are the same stuff that we had three years ago, and it’s not like any major, life-changing products have come out in the last three years.”

Tony gives Luci a flat look. “I don’t know anyone that could look at a war like this and say nothing’s really changed.”

“I mean, it’s true, isn't it?” Luci protests. “For normal people, nothing’s really changed! I can still go out and get a hamburger anytime I want, or shop for clothes, or go to the movies, or do all the stuff that normal people do, right?”

“Just because the reality of war is far removed from most worlds doesn't mean that nothing’s changed…” Tony begins to mutter, then turns at the sound of murmuring and surprised voices. Noticing the same, Luci’s ears flick in the direction of the noise before the rest of him turns to see a green-haired blur bolting across the room at a dead run.

“Is that…” Luci begins.

“She’s not slowing down…” Tony says, her eyes widening.

And indeed, the blur that goes by the name of Kiwi seems to have no intention of putting the brakes on, even when Songbird turns and notices her. Arms outstretched, she barrels right into him in a full tackle, sending him staggering backwards and eventually falling on his back as she lands on top of him, bracing herself on his chest. Members of the Halcyon delegation let out gasps at the sudden assault; exclamations of surprise go up from the Valiant staff that clearly hadn’t been cued in on this. But none of it seems to matter to the pair, who only have eyes for each other; Songbird, who is propping himself up on his elbows, appears to be locked in disbelief. “Kiwi?”

Kiwi lets out a sound that’s halfway between a laugh and a sob. “Darling.” And that leads into a kiss — unremitted, unrestrained, holding back none of the adoration and love that comes from a deep and abiding bond.

“Oh!” Tony exclaims softly, coloring a little.

Luci raises his eyebrows as he taps his curled knuckles to his lips. “Wow. She’s really going for it.” he mumbles.

“I mean, I don’t see him complaining.” Tony mumbles as Songbird tangles a hand in Kiwi’s green hair, kissing her back.

“Did you know…?” Luci asks, glancing at Tony.

“I mean, I, I knew she was arriving, but I didn’t know she’d arrive like this.” Tony stammers, gesturing vaguely to the reunified couple. “And in front of the delegation, too, graaahhhh… this is awkward.”

“Heeeeeey, looka that!” Jackrabbit crows, raising her glass towards the pair. “The lovebirds, reunited at last! Now that’s the package deal we signed on for. Songbird, why don’t you stop making the rest of us jealous? Get up and introduce your girl!”

“Oh thank the Inkling, she’s got it handled.” Tony says, letting out a sigh of relief and visibly relaxing. “I had no idea how I was going to separate the two of them. Hope the delegation isn’t too offput by this behavior…”

But Luci doesn’t add any commentary. Instead he watches, head tilted a little to one side, his green eyes tracking the expressions on Kiwi and Songbird’s faces; the way they look at each other with breathless exhilaration, the way they hold each other as if they were never going to let go; as if there was nothing more precious in the galaxy. Something about it struck him, and resonated on a level he couldn’t quite put his finger on. His curiosity only grew as they stood up and introduced Kiwi to the Halcyon delegation at Jackrabbit’s urging; never once apologizing for what just happened, for the outburst of affection and devotion that was put on full display for all to see. No indeed; Songbird kept his arm around Kiwi’s shoulders, and she kept her arm around his waist, the two of them pulled close to each other, as if bound at the hip.

“…Luci?” Tony’s voice cuts through the white noise, and Luci’s fluffy ears twitch, tilting in the direction of her voice before his head turns that way as well.

“Hm? Yes?” he says, giving her a blank look.

“You okay? You seem a little quiet.” Tony says, watching him carefully.

“Oh, you know how it is. Dumb cat. Head empty.” he says, shrugging it off. “Were they serving drinks at the buffet? I’m thirsty.”

“Yeah, right over there at the end table. Fizzwater, beer, wine, lemonade, normal water, you name it.” Tony says, turning and pointing it out. “I prefer water, even at a function like this. Healthier for you and all that.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” he says, still sounding distant or distracted. “I think I’m gonna go get a drink. You wanna come with?”

Tony glances towards Kiwi and Songbird, but sees that Valkyrie has now joined Jackrabbit to help introduce the couple to the delegation. Since things now seem to be under control, she nods to Luci. “Yeah. I can tag along for that.”

“Awesome. I think I’m gonna get some lemonade. Y’know, Sierra’s been running me ragged with all of these messages she keeps asking me to deliver. Is there any reason she can’t have Legaci send them over encrypted lines…?”

Event Log: 8/20/12768

Sunthorn Bastion: Sunthorn Spice

7:59pm SGT

The next evening, we find our Schrödinger at the Sunthorn Spice, though not out of any outstanding plot or desire to be there. For cats often wander — drifting from place to place as whim dictates, but without any particular intent or desire in mind. Such vagrancy tends to be romanticized as one of the more carefree, whimsical traits of felines; and in most circumstances, would hold true of Luci. But this cat attends the Spice with matters on his mind, as is often the case for men who visit bars seeking space to think or clear their heads.

“Hey, Sandago.” Luci says as he pulls himself up to one of the barstools at the counter, settling in and getting comfortable. “Do you do milkshakes?”

“It’s not a common request, but for one of my feline regulars, I can arrange that.” the Cyber barkeep says, one of his arms swiveling back to snag a glass off the shelf behind the bar, and flipping it around to land it neatly on the counter before he trundles towards the fridge. “Is there anything particular we would like in this milkshake, Master Luci?”

“Mmm. Not really. I just want something cold and soft and sweet.” Luci answers distractedly, glancing around the bar to see what other regulars were present. There were some Valiant staff he didn’t recognize; normal people that did the grunt work of the organization, but at one of the tables was Renchiko and Ridge, hanging out in the way that siblings are inclined to do; at another booth, Valkyrie and Jackrabbit, who liked to make a habit of the Spice when they could; and Jetfire, whose booming voice could usually be heard clear across the bar as he regaled new recruits with tales of his crimefighting days. Nowadays, the Spice is a homey place — decently populated with familiar faces and regulars, in contrast to the mostly-empty tables and booths when the Valiant had just reclaimed Sunthorn.

“Vanilla bean ice cream it is, then. Whole milk, assuming you have no issue with that.” Sandago says, returning from the fridge with a tub of ice cream and a gallon of milk. Two of his four arms hold and scoop the ice cream, while the third and fourth unscrew the milk jug and pour into the glass. “For consistency, I assume we’re looking for something not too thick, but not too watery?”

“Yes, something in the middle. That should be perfect.” Luci says, his attention still on those within the bar.

“Noted. One standard vanilla milkshake, coming up.” Sandago says, a mixing paddle inserted into the glass and spinning at low revolutions until the ice cream and milk are appropriately mixed, and topped with a single glistening cherry. “And a single Kasvei cherry, for contrast. Billed to Sierra’s account as usual, I presume?”

“Yeah. You know the drill.” Luci says as a metal straw is tucked into the milkshake before being slid across the counter to him.

“Excellent. Will that be all, Master Luci?” Sandago asks as he starts to put away the ice cream and milk.

“Actually — why do you call me that?” Luci asks. “I’m not master of anything.”

“Oh, well that’s quite simple. You don’t have a last name, at least that I know of.” Sandago replies as he pushes the fridge door shut. “And you’ve never given me permission to be on a first-name basis with you, so formality it is.”

“Oh.” Luci says, sipping from his milkshake. “Well, I don’t care. You can call me Luci. I’m not important enough to be called master.”

“Luci it is, then.” Sandago says, his faceplate emoticon changing to a winking smile. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

Luci looks around the bar again. “Do you see a lot of couples come in here, Sandago?”

“Certainly. They make up a good chunk of my customer base. And sometimes, people come in here by themselves but leave with someone else.” Sandago says, one of his arms snatching up a dishtowel and using it to wipe down the counter as he makes his way back over to where Luci is seated. “I also see many single individuals pass through, looking for a drink and relationship advice. Are you one of those people tonight, Luci?”

“Me? No. I was just curious about some things.” Luci says, picking the cherry out of his milkshake and licking the bottom of it. “The couples, they… do you ever notice how they look at each other?”

“Hmm.” Sandago says as the arm with rag drops it back in the sink. “I suppose I do, though that’s not how I see it, as a Cyber. I suppose what I notice is more a matter of cumulative behavior. How people look at each other, but also their body language and how they act in the presence of their partner. The culmination of these factors is what gives me insight into their relationships.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” Luci says, closing his teeth around the cherry and popping it off the stem, which he sets on a nearby napkin. “Can you tell me what you think about Songbird and Kiwi? If they’ve stopped by yet. Kiwi just got here yesterday, so they may not have visited.”

“They did, actually. Last night. Celebratory visit, enjoyed by all.” Sandago says as he picks up a fresh dishtowel and a spray bottle of glass cleaner, spritzing his faceplate so he can wipe it down. “It was subtle, but their body language suggested to me that they actually wanted to be somewhere else, more private. Presumably catching up with each other after being separated for so long; I don’t blame them for it. They seem very enamored of each other.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen people that love each other as much as those two do.” Luci says, chewing on his cherry. “Maybe in movies and holos. Just the way that they look at each other, you can tell that they adore each other.”

“And that bothers you?” Sandago ventures as he finishes cleaning his faceplate.

“No.” Luci says quickly. “I just… found it a little odd. It made me think. Made me wonder what would make people feel something that deeply.”

“A good question. One, unfortunately, that I do not have the wisdom or perspective to answer. I’m not much of a romantic myself, but that’s likely on account of being inorganic. I haven’t got the chemical compulsions that seem to drive most organics.” Sandago says as he puts away the rag and glass cleaner. “Whatever the case may be, I wish you luck in finding your answer. You’ll have to excuse me; work calls.”

“Oh no, go ahead.” Luci says, giving him a wave as another regular pulls up to the bar, and Sandago moves in that direction to take the order. Left to his thoughts again, Luci returns to sipping from his milkshake and watching people from his spot at the counter, with Sandago’s words still echoing in his head.

Chemical compulsion. The need to propagate one’s genetic template to the next generation, he quietly muses to himself. That can’t be it. There has to be something more. Songbird’s a vampire; vampires are sterile; I know that all too well, with how often I fool around with Sierra. So it can’t just be that; there has to be something more. The way Songbird and Kiwi looked at each other… that was more than just chemical compulsion. It was something else.

Something that, for the present, escaped him and remained in the realm of mystery.

Event Log: 8/21/12768

Sunthorn Bastion: the Inkspell Library

9:31am SGT

Is our question yet answered? Is this what life means to a creature that cannot stay dead? A fascination with the connections that others have formed, and seeking to understand them, to make sense of them? And what for? Perhaps in the hope that he might be able to replicate those connections for himself? Or is it merely a passing fancy, an idle distraction that will hold his attention for a time before he moves on to the next thing to fascinate him? With a Schrödinger, it is never easy to tell; for cats are famously opaque creatures, disclosing little in the way of motivations.

Still, the following morning does find him checking out a book from the Inkspell. Luci had arrived with the intention of finding a book that would ‘explain how people like Songbird and Kiwi get the way they are’, in his own words. Boaris and Nayoh were appropriately baffled by this oddly specific criteria, but Karasol and Kali seemed to know exactly what the Schrödinger was referring to. In a matter of fifteen minutes, he was checking out with a copy of Recursion, and a metal bookmark from the gift shop proclaiming that books are memories you can hold in your hands.

“You seemed pretty eager to handle that one.” Boaris grunts as he, Karasol, and Nayoh stand at the double doors of the Inkspell’s front entrance, watching the Schrödinger traipse off. “You hadn’t struck me as the type to humor catbrained requests like that.”

“I have a soft spot for Schrödingers.” Karasol explains. “I’m familiar with their burden; it’s not an easy one. Quite tragic, actually.”

“He didn’t seem all too burdened to me.” Nayoh remarks. “Aren’t cheshire cats immortal?”

“Their bodies are immortal. Their minds are not.” Karasol answers, tucking his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “They were engineered by mortals who saw the need for a soldier that would always get back up, to fight in a war that would never end. But mortals, by definition, cannot comprehend the pressures of immortality. The engineers overlooked the minds of the soldier, for soldiers need not question; they need only obey. They gave them no enhancements that would otherwise elevate their mental capacity, and so Schrödingers are mortal minds trapped in immortal bodies. And mortal minds can only hold so much.”

Nayoh glances at Karasol, then Boaris. “Sorry, that’s going over my head a little bit. What does that mean?”

“It means they have limited memories, unless I’m mistaken.” Boaris says, side-eyeing Karasol. “Mind coming off your mysterious pedestal and giving it to us straight?”

Karasol narrows his eyes at Boaris, but elaborates nonetheless. “Schrödingers can only retain a few centuries’ worth of memories. Their brains are not much different from the brains of a standard human or vashy; eventually, the part of their neural network that handles memory reaches capacity, and in order to retain new memories, it has to overwrite old memories. Cybers suffer from the same problem; it’s why there’s a market for additional memory storage in the Cyber Meritocracy. The rich Cybers that live more than a few centuries eventually end up needing external memory storage, no matter how efficient their internal memory core is. Unfortunately, there is no such solution for Schrödingers, since they are not machines. Their new memories eventually cannibalize the old memories, usually starting from the least relevant ones, and working their way outwards from there. Sometimes Schrödingers can cling to important, defining memories even millennia after they occurred, but those memories often lose context because everything surrounding it has been overwritten with new memories. It becomes an ancient memory that they know is important, but if you asked them why it is important, they often cannot tell you why. Only that it is something that they seem to be unable to forget.”

“That sounds… awful.” Nayoh says, shifting uncomfortably. “Is that really what it’s like to be a cheshire cat? I thought it would be nice, basically being immortal and able to go to any place that you’ve been before, but if you eventually forget all the people you meet, all the people that matter to you, all the experiences that shaped you…”

“That is a burden of a Schrödinger. They have been around for a long time; the one that just left is probably a little over a billion years old, but he probably doesn’t know it, and only remembers the barest sliver of his long, long existence.” Karasol says, picking a bit of Kali’s fur off his hoodie and flicking it away. “Most of them are innocent creatures. They mean no harm, and simply want to enjoy life. And most of them never tire of life, because they can only remember the last few centuries. The cumulative weight of memory never grows too great for them, because they are incapable of retaining more than a certain amount. But the cost of that is your past — never quite recalling who you were to begin with. Or the many different people you’ve been over the vast expanse of time. And in time, you will lose who you are in the present moment, as your present becomes your past, and is gradually overwritten by your future as it becomes your present.”

“They could just write it down.” Boaris grunts.

“Perhaps. I am sure that some of them have tried, likely in vain. For as long as the Schrödingers have been around, each one could fill a library and more with the record of their lives; and even if they could successfully record all of it, it begs the question of where they would find the time to read through all of it, and whether they’d be able to remember even a fraction of what they read.” Karasol says, turning to head back into his Library. “On that note, it should go without saying that adding a Schrödinger to our catalogue is something that should be avoided, if at all possible. He may not remember the entirety of his past, but if he dies in the Library, there is a very real possibility that he won’t just be converted into a single living book; the Library might try to record the entirety of his history. I have no desire to deal with a sudden influx of a few million living books, and I am sure the rest of the Librarians will agree with me.”

“Should only be a problem if someone’s there to watch him die and keeps eyes on him afterwards. I heard Schrödingers disappear after dying if you don’t keep an eye on them.” Boaris says, turning to follow Karasol back into the Library, and speaking to Nayoh as he goes. “You were going to have lunch with that crush of yours this afternoon, right? Mr. Teleporting Crystal Knife guy?”

“He’s not a crush! I just… I like hanging out with him.”

“If you say so. Well, before you do, some of the natives are gettin’ restless up on the Floor of Secrets. I want you to head up there and sort them out. Take Kali with you, if you feel like you need the backup…”

Event Log: 8/22/12768

Sunthorn Bastion: Titan Hangar

1:46pm SGT

With yesterday’s revelations in mind, we must ask: is it possible for our subject to answer the question that was offered at the beginning? Is he even aware of the nature of his existence, the reason for his inability to die? Or has he forgotten that altogether, and simply accepts his evident reality without wondering about its causation?

The answer may only come with further observation of the subject, and even then it is not guaranteed. Though it may be a point of interest to us as observers, there is nothing to say that it will be of any apparent importance to the subject. Indeed, it may be entirely irrelevant to the subject, who may have their sights set on other things; and such are the limitations of observation. Of all the things you wish to know in watching, sometimes you learn everything but the thing you were curious about.

At any rate, the following day finds Luci in the Titan hangar, attending Sierra as she goes on a tour of the premises. Ostensibly, the visit is to bring her and Songbird up to speed on the Valiant’s budding Titan program; but Sierra’s attention is only loosely engaged. It is a world in which she has little involvement or experience, and requires a level of dedication that she likely does not possess.

“Wish we could just drop one of these on CURSE’s head.” Sierra muses as the cargo cart they’re riding in putters past the recessed alcoves that house the Titans that the Valiant have at their disposal. “They don’t have any Titan squads. They wouldn’t be able to fight back.”

There’s no response from Luci, who has his nose buried in the book that he checked out from the Inkspell. Apparently offended by the fact that a book is more deserving of his attention, Sierra reaches over and flicks one of Luci’s fluffy ears. “Hey. I need you to validate my clearly immoral suggestions.”

Luci winces, looking up and around. “Hmm? What?”

“Nevermind. God, I wish these things didn’t require years of training before you get to pilot one. The plugsuits are so damn sexy.” Sierra sighs, planting her chin on a hand as she stares at one of the towering mechs. “I’d look so good in one of those.”

“I mean, you’re a vampire.” Luci points out. “You’ve got all the time in the world if you want to learn how to pilot a Titan. It’s not like you’d age out the way some pilots do.”

“Yeah, but I have things to do.” Sierra grumbles. “Gotta make connections and pull strings to help keep the Valiant running and all that. Besides, I’d be bored out of my mind having to do all the classwork that comes with being a Titan pilot.”

Luci shrugs. “Can’t have the reward if you don’t put in the work.”

“You think they’d print me a S.L.U.T. suit if I asked them to?” Sierra muses. “Wouldn’t even have to be a functional one. Just something I could add to my wardrobe and wear every now and then.”

“You could ask them.” Luci suggests. “I wouldn’t count on it, though. It seems like they take the plugsuits pretty seriously. I think it’s a badge of honor that only pilots are allowed to have.”

“Stupid.” Sierra mutters, her crimson eyes flicking to the front of the cargo cart, where Renchiko is droning on to Songbird and Kiwi about the mechs in each alcove. Things like operational status, combat capability, pilot chamber configurations, unique features, refurbishment progress… on and on and on. Things that Renchiko is clearly passionate about, and which Songbird has a clear interest in, though some of the numbers and terminology appear to be going right over Kiwi’s head. “Did you know that in the Venusian Colonies, they use mech duels to settle territorial conflicts and other disagreements?”

“Aren’t the Venusian Colonies ruled by a bunch of noble houses that owe their allegiance to the Monarchy?” Luci says, his tail curling over into his lap. “I heard living out there sucks, because there’s no democracy. It’s just lords and nobles that control planets by being in charge of military assets, like Titan squads.”

“Yeah, but that’s kinda cool, isn't it? They’ve got knights, and ladies, and nobles, and codes of honor, and when they get pissed with each other, they jump into their Titans and duke it out like people used to do back in the old days.” Sierra says, swinging her arms around in mock punches. “You can be a knight in shining armor, except your armor is a giant mech! Isn’t that cool?”

Luci scratched the side of his head. “I mean, I guess, if you’re born into the nobility. They don’t let commoners pilot the Titans, do they? That’s the whole thing with the Venusian Houses in the Colonies. They’re obsessed with genetic purity or something like that because they think it allows you to pilot mechs better. Isn’t that how the noble Houses in the Colonies began?”

“It is, and it’s stupid.” Renchiko suddenly contributes from the driver’s seat, apparently having overhead the side conversation. “Titans were used to settle the Venusian frontier worlds, especially ones that bordered Collective space. Legendary pilots carved out spaces for themselves, and used their clout and reputation to shape the colony governments when they were in their formative stages. A lot of them ended up creating dynasties, and credited their piloting skill to genetic factors… which was true in some cases, for the pilots that may have been psionically gifted and had tech integrated into their mechs that could capitalize on that fact. That’s how they established the pilot Houses, and those Houses still control the Colonies to this day, and fight with each other for control over the Colony worlds, when they aren’t busy fighting the Collective.”

“So is it actually legit? The whole genetic purity thing?” Kiwi asks.

“Even if it is, training takes you a lot further than genetics will. The genetics thing is just propaganda that they feed to the Colony populations to discourage the idea that regular people could pilot a Titan if you gave them the right training and resources.” Renchiko says, her tone making her feelings on the subject clear. “If regular people could pilot Titans, the Houses would lose their monopoly on Titan piloting, and all the prestige and power that comes with it. So they constantly reinforce the narrative that only nobles and other upper-class citizens have what it takes to pilot a Titan, and they also use that to justify their right to rule. It’s a circular thing; only those who pilot Titans are strong enough to lead society, and only nobles can pilot Titans, so the nobles therefore must be in charge of society.”

“I was about to ask why the commoners don’t rise up and overthrow the Houses, but then I realized it’s probably pretty hard to rise up against anyone that controls a squad of Titans.” Luci remarks.

Renchiko nods over her shoulder. “Exactly. You would need military resources to pick a fight with a Titan, because a Titan is the ultimate military resource. But the Houses don’t just control Titan battalions. They control most other aspects of the military as well; in fact, the Venusian Colonies usually build their militaries around their Titan battalions. Air force, naval fleet, ground units, space fleet — all of it is organized to support their Titan battalions, whether it’s providing air cover, advance scouting, or transporting Titans between worlds. Titans and the pilots that control them are revered in the Venusian Colonies. It’s close to religious worship in some cases.”

“That’s not the case outside of the Venusian Colonies, right?” Songbird asks. “Titan piloting is mostly merit-based in most other nations?”

“It is, thankfully. There’s some bias towards pilots that have a pedigree, but not to the extent where society is literally being restructured around those people.” Renchiko says. “Competition in pilot academies is fierce, but anyone that is willing to put in the work and obviously has the skills can earn their way into the pilot seat, regardless of whether you’re from a metropolitan system or a no-name backwater world.”

“So someone with a pedigree like yours could probably snatch a spot in a pilot academy if we hadn’t grabbed you before you graduated.” Sierra says, pulling a bottle of blood out of her coat and working on unscrewing it as she further sprawls in the back of the cargo cart. “After all, your mother had quite the reputation.”

“If I had a sponsor or a scholarship, maybe. I doubt my uncle would’ve let me wave around the fact that I was Ratchet’s daughter.” Renchiko says, a little tersely. “It might’ve gotten the attention of the wrong people.”

Noticing the tension, Luci uses his sneaker to nudge Sierra’s leg. “Maybe lay off a bit.” he murmurs quietly. “Seems like it’s a sensitive topic.”

Sierra rolls her eye. “This is a paramilitary organization, not a daycare, Luci. We don’t coddle our Agents.” She takes a swig of her blood bottle, then calls over her shoulder. “You want some blood, Songbird?”

“I’ll pass, thanks.”

“Your loss. It’s the good stuff.” Sierra says, starting to screw the lid back onto the bottle as Renchiko returns to briefing Songbird and Kiwi. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you crack open a book before. What’s with the sudden interest in reading?”

Luci’s eyes flick to Songbird and Kiwi, but he just shrugs. “It was a recommendation from the people at the Library. I figure they knew what they were talking about, and I didn’t see the harm in giving it a shot.”

“I’d be careful about any book that comes out of the Inkspell. It isn’t a normal Library.” Sierra says, tucking her bottle back in her coat. “What’s the book about?”

“I dunno.” Luci says, folding the book shut and checking the back cover. “I haven’t gotten very far. It seems like it’s a memoir of some sort, about a scientist and a Cyber that fell in love. It’s really confusing because it starts in the future with the Cyber exploring a ruined space station full of copies of herself that are all fighting each other for survival, and every now and then she’ll come across memory chips that give her a flashbacks into the past and her life with the scientist, and… it’s a lot. I’m not really sure what to think of it. If I read it for too long, it starts to make my head hurt.”

“Sounds weird.” Sierra says, pulling her cap down over her face and folding her hands behind her head. “I’m gonna take a nap. Wake me up when the kid runs out of things to lecture us about.”

She settles with that, leaving Luci to the perfunctory conversation being carried in the front seat of the cargo cart. And while he knew it was important — at least to someone, somewhere — most of the talking faded into white noise for him. Lost in his own thoughts, the concerns of great wars and planetary struggles felt of little importance to him; they were faraway things. Abstract and nebulous, and not as real to him as the things in his immediate vicinity; his own problems, his own questions, his own curiosities. What was real to him was the book in his hands; the licentious and well-dressed vampire sprawled across the bed of the cargo cart, taking a nap; and the couple in the front seat, one of them tilting her head to rest it on her partner’s shoulder in a brief show of affection. After a moment, Luci imitated the motion, then quickly straightened up, as there was no shoulder for him to rest upon.

But the gesture stayed with him as he wondered what it would feel like to have a caring shoulder to rest his weary head upon.

Event Log: 8/23/12768

Sunthorn Bastion: Northern Hemisphere Grounds

6:22pm SGT

These stories typically cover matters of import. Individuals who carry great importance on the stage of the galaxy; organizations that shape the present and future of society; happenings, conspiracies, and plots that will eventually become the material of history books. All of it weaving into the greater story, threads in the larger tapestry that makes up the chronicle of the Myrrdicato Galaxy.

And then, occasionally, these stories cover people like Luci.

That is not to say Luci is unimportant, or that he is less compelling than the other individuals we follow more frequently. The tapestry is made up of many threads of many colors; some dull, some vibrant, all of them working together to form a larger picture.

That being said, Luci is… not one of the more brightly colored threads, as presently we find him on the grounds outside the central tower, following a butterfly that crossed his path while he was on his way back to the apartment he shares with Sierra.

The discerning observer will witness this and ascribe to it some deeper meaning. Perhaps it is a sign; or maybe he sees something within this fluttering piece of nature. Some symbolism for the ephemerality of life, and how its beauty is derived not from its permanence, but from its frailty. Perhaps it offers him an epiphany, or some reflection on the nature of his own existence, so easily observed by others. Maybe it inspires in him contemplation of some other fundamental truth that he once knew, but had long since forgotten.

One could imagine all these things and more.

Unfortunately, the truth is far less pretentious: Luci is a dumb cat, and got distracted by a butterfly, mostly because he thinks he can convince it to land on his finger if he follows it for long enough, and because he literally has nothing to better to do in the four hours between dinner and bedtime.

Still, there is something to be said for the simplicity of such creatures. Out of the entire population stationed on Sunthorn, it is almost guaranteed that none of them have the requisite carefree nature needed to derive such simple and uncomplicated pleasure from the meandering pursuit of a butterfly. Many would think to themselves that they do not have the time to waste on something so trivial, when there are tasks that need to be done, preparations that need to be completed, responsibilities that need to be tended. But Luci, unburdened by any such obligations, is free to haphazardly traipse his way across the verdant green, in pursuit of a whimsy that will offer nothing other than the satisfaction of curiosity.

And traipse he does, across the green, along the sides of ponds, and into groves where the shadows stretch long with the advent of night. Among the trees, and ducking through the underbrush in the pursuit of this lonesome lepidopteran, he plows through an arch of ferns and runs facefirst into the chest of someone standing just behind them. Understandably startled by this, he jumps backwards in the reflexive way that cats often do, hunching down a little as he stares up at the silhouette of what appears to be a red panda Halfie with white hair, dressed in a hoodie and jeans. As his head turns towards the Schrödinger, Luci can see that his irises have a singular, neon-green radiance that dominates dim twilight of the woods. There is something about the Halfie that has Luci’s tail bristling on instinct, his ears folding back atop his head even though nothing has been said, and there is no aggression from the stranger.

Taking one of his hands out of his hoodie pocket, the stranger lifts it so that the butterfly can alight on one of his slender, blackfurred fingers. This is done without taking his green gaze off the Schrödinger, his head tilting to the side as if measuring him up. “Ah. A side character. That would explain why I didn’t sense you coming. Did you get tired of slinking around in the shadow of the protagonists?”

Luci takes another step back at that question, unsure what to make of it; though the words are in galactic common, the sentence itself sounds like jibberish to him. When the stranger doesn’t get a response, he lowers his hand, holding out the finger with the butterfly to Luci. “This is what wanted, wasn’t it? Go on, take it. So long as you’re gentle with it, you’ll be fine.”

Luci’s eyes flick down to the butterfly, then back up to the stranger. “You’re trying to trick me into something.” he accuses, eyes narrowed.

The stranger pulls the hand with the butterfly back, looking it over before lifting it in another direction so the lepidopteran can flutter away. “Paranoia is an unattractive trait.” he states, watching the insect flitter off through the twilight. “It often breeds regret, when you look in the rearview mirror and you see all the opportunities you missed because you could not bring yourself to trust someone else.”

A pang of irritation bubbles up in Luci as he watches the butterfly dance away. He wants to pursue it; after all, he has been following it for quite a while now. But that would be proving the stranger’s point, which would leave sour taste in his mouth. Schrödingers do not like admitting they are wrong, so he instead tries to change the topic. “Who are you? You don’t sound like one of the Valiant staff.”

“I should hope not. I’ve been here longer than they have.” he says, turning and starting to idle his way through the glade, his bushy, red-banded tail swishing behind him. “I’m hoping this little detour to Halcyon will be entertaining. A little bit of drama would be nice; you can usually get that if you dig into the pilot dynamics on a Titan squad. Some mystery, some intrigue, along with a healthy dose of action. Escalating stakes, hopefully. Keeps the tension in the air and adds a little spice to the situation.”

The stranger’s ruminations are still mostly going over Luci’s head. The words themselves seem ominous, but the way they’re delivered — casual, conversational, like discussing the weather or a new movie — seems to disarm them, akin to cloaking a wolf in sheep’s clothing. That dissonance between tone and subject is enough for Luci to cautiously follow him at a distance, just in case the stranger happens to be a threat. “Are you planning something for Halcyon?” he asks. Perhaps a little direct, admittedly, but sometimes villains could be egoistic and would lay out their plans if asked, almost like they were seeking validation from the horrified reactions.

The stranger snorts as he steps around a tree. “Me? I can’t plan shit right now; I’m sealed in this glade. All I can do is hope the protagonists get themselves into trouble so I have something entertaining to watch. You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? You’re always on the sidelines, watching everybody else do the important stuff. Proper little wallflower, wondering why you can’t have a love story like the ones that main characters have.”

Luci perks up at that. “What did you say?”

“You heard me. I’ve seen the way you look at Songbird and Kiwi. You thought you knew what love was, until you saw them reunited, and now you’re not so sure anymore.” the stranger says, one of his white-rimmed ears flicking backwards as if to pick up on anything Luci might say. “And all those questions it raises. Do you actually know what love is? Do you really know what it feels like? Or have you been missing out all this time, and you only just now realized it? Terrible questions, aren’t they. The sort of thing that eats at you in the quiet moments, when you’re all alone in the small hours of morning.” He takes a hand out of the pocket of his hoodie, grazing it along the arch of a fern. “I like to keep a few questions like those on hand. They’re useful little things to slip into people’s minds. Eats away at their convictions. Chewing on the ideals they hold near and dear, eroding them bit by bit.”

“I don’t think I like you.” Luci says cautiously, still following the stranger, but at a distance. “You don’t sound like a good person.”

Something about that seems to amuse the stranger; there’s the brief, scintillating flash of a toothy smile, sharp teeth that are impeccably white and perfectly aligned. It’s definitely not a herbivore’s grin. “I don’t make a point of being likable. Anyone can be likable. But there are very few people that are willing to be honest.” Stepping over a root as he winds his way through the woods, he makes a vague waving motion over his shoulder. “Anyhow, my point is, your thoroughly recycled mind has recently become a breeding ground for those haunting questions that eat away at people. I can remove them for you, if you like.”

Luci narrows his eyes at the stranger’s back. “What do you want in return? You don’t seem like a person that would do something like that out of the kindness of your heart.”

“I don’t need anything in return. The service that I render to you becomes the payment I receive. As I said before, I like to keep some of those haunting questions on hand; they’re useful tools for someone like me.” the stranger answers as the light seeping between the trees gets a little brighter, as if they were nearing an open area. “You get peace of mind, and I get tools that I can use to shape and mold other people.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll pass on that. You’ll probably use them to do something bad.” Luci says. “I think I’m going to report you to Sierra. You don’t sound like someone that should be on the loose in the Bastion.”

That gets a laugh out of the stranger. “I’m not on the loose. You wandered into my jail cell. And Sierra has no control over me; it’s quite the opposite, in fact. She owes all her confidence and that carefree disposition to yours truly.”

“Wait, you know Sierra?” Luci says as a wide hollow in the glade becomes visible through the trees ahead.

“Like the back of my hand. She’s a simple thing, like you. Might be why the two of you get along so well.” the stranger says, crossing over the treeline border and into the hollow, which dips down towards a pool at the center, with a single tree beside it. “You should ask her about the deal she made with me thirteen thousand years ago, next chance you get. You might learn a little more about her.”

“I think you’re messing with me. There’s no way you made a deal with her thirteen thousand years ago; nobody lives for that long.” Luci says with narrowed eyes, coming to the edge of the treeline but not further than that.

“Haha! Nobody can live for that long, says the Schrödinger.” the stranger chuckles, the laughter sounding genuine. “You really never were the bright sort, Luci… I think that’s what they liked about you back on Forgotten. You’re simple. Easy to be around. It’s hard to find people like that nowadays.” Lifting a hand, the stranger flicks two blackfurred fingers, and Luci startles a little as the butterfly from earlier flits back into view, almost in his face, and lands on the collar of his jacket. “You can go back to being a side character now. I’m sorry I couldn’t offer you a better love story than the one you have at the moment, but if you’re willing to wait a little while, you’ll get your turn eventually.”

Luci’s attention is on the butterfly on his collar, holding still as if he might scare it away by moving. Carefully reaching up with one hand, he slowly grazes a finger along the collar until the butterfly has moved onto his finger. After studying it for a moment, he looks up to reply to the stranger, only to find that the hollow is gone. He stands alone in the middle of the glade, with the light fading, the shadows lengthening and becoming darker as the night fully starts to set in. Turning around, it occurs to him that he does not know how he got here, and how to get back out again.

As that realization settles in, the butterfly leaves his finger, starting to flit through the trees again. Tracking it with his eyes, Luci catches the silver gleam of the central tower through the trees — and the butterfly seems to be moving in that direction. He gives a last look over his shoulder, checking for the stranger — but there’s no sign of the hollow, and no indication that the stranger was ever there. 

Deciding not to test his luck further, Luci turns, and starts to follow the butterfly as it leads him from the darkened glade.

Event Log: 8/24/12768

Sunthorn Bastion: Nympho’s Quarters

10:36pm SGT

“…and Drill’s all up on my ass about trying to pull strings to get us a meeting with the Dodakatheon financiers.” Sierra grumbles, shrugging off her Challenger dress jacket and throwing it on the chair in the corner of the room. “For all the good that’ll do. He knows that Songbird won’t play nice with the Dodakatheon because of how they they treated him, and even after the Nova Incident, I’m pretty sure the Dodakatheon still considers Songbird a brand risk. It would just be a waste of time.”

Given that Sierra has said all of this while Luci is brushing his teeth, it seems like she’s not looking for reply so much as needing to vent. So Luci, still in the midst of his foamy brushing, gives a vague, nondescript sound that could loosely be interpreted as acknowledgement, prompting Sierra to continue her venting.

“I mean, can I catch a break? The whole point of taking this request for aid on Halcyon was so that we could get some downtime!” she complains as she wrestles her boots off while sitting on the edge of the bed. “Recover from the nonstop evac missions we’ve been running for months, in hotspots all across the warfront. Get some downtime, kick our feet up, take a breather. What I need is a vacation, a proper one. Tropical beaches, a few cheritzas, and a battalion of bikini babes to go with it. Maybe some cabana boys too, some twinky ones, with a few hunks mixed in there.”

As Luci finishes rinsing his mouth out, he finds himself able to reply. “I’ve heard Halcyon has some good beaches. Not sure they’ll let you visit them, what with it being a preserve world and all.”

“Well, what’s the point of a beach if it’s not sprinkled with hot people in swimsuits?” Sierra exclaims as she peels her socks off. “It’s just a waste of sand and water at that point!”

Washing off his toothbrush and setting it back in the holder, Luci comes back out of the bathroom and slinks onto the bed. “You can still surf and build sandcastles.” he points out.

“Building sandcastles doesn’t get you bitches.” Sierra scoffs. “Surfing might, though. Surfing is pretty cool.”

“I don’t like beaches.” Luci says as he lies down, resting his head on his pillow and getting comfortable. “It’s a pain in the ass to get the sand out of my tail afterwards. And I always have to take a freshwater rinse. If you let the saltwater dry in your fur, it makes it all coarse and stiff.”

“I prefer your tail when it’s soft and fluffy.” Sierra says, laying back on the bed and reaching over to grab Luci’s tail, pulling it over to gently bite it, pulling off her eyepatch as she does so. “So if you wouldn’t go to the beach for vacation, where would you go?”

Luci shrugs. “Wherever I want, I guess. Wherever I feel like at the time.” He laces his fingers together over his midsection, staring at the ceiling and contemplating whether to raise the thing that’s on his mind. “I met a red panda yesterday that said he made a deal with you thirteen thousand years ago. Weird guy.”

Sierra pauses in the middle of taking off her cap, looking at Luci. “Oh shit. Did you run into Solebarr?”

Luci tilts his heads towards her. “You know him?”

“Course I know him, he’s a pain in the ass. You didn’t make any wishes or pick any flowers while you were with him, did you?” Sierra grunts, throwing her cap across the room to join her dress jacket.

“Umm… no? He was in one of the glades around the central tower. Not a lot of flowers around there.”

“Good. That fluffy red menace is a wish away from escaping his seal, and we’re going to be royally screwed when he does.” Sierra grumbles, shimmying out of her pants and kicking them away. “If he ever does offer you a wish, or ask you to pick a flower, don’t do it, no matter what he offers you in return. It’s not worth the trouble you’ll be creating for everybody else.”

“Okay. I’ll keep it in mind.” Luci says, returning his gaze to the ceiling. “So you did make a deal with him all those years ago, then?”

“Yeah. I’ve known him for a while. He’s a clever little shit.” Sierra says as she starts to unbutton her uniform shirt and take it off. “He can read people like books, can lock onto your fears and insecurities like a heat-seeking missile. Don’t ask me how he does it, he just seems to know. Then he takes that and uses it to mess with people. Manipulates them, tricks them into making deals for stuff they want, etcetera etcetera. Typical villain shit.”

“So he’s a bad person?” Luci surmises.

“He makes trouble, let’s put it that way. He thinks it’s funny, but it’s usually a pain in the ass for the rest of us to deal with.” Sierra says, shedding her shirt and pulling back the covers as she starts working on her bra. “And because he makes trouble, you need to stay away from him, or he’ll get you into trouble. Got it?”

“I’m fine with that. Something about him put my nerves on end when I ran into him.” Luci says. “If you know he’s trouble, why did you make a deal with him?”

“I didn’t know he was trouble back them. I was only a few decades old at the time.” Sierra answers as the bra is discarded over the side of the bed, and she kicks her way under the covers. “But I got a good deal because I’m clever, so it’s fine.”

Ah yes, the Sierra classic: do as I say, not as I do. “What was the deal, then?” Luci asks as Sierra settles in with her head on his shoulder.

“I wanted to get rid of my sadness, and he agreed, for a price of a few of my memories. Life’s been great since then.” Sierra says, tucking her hair out of the way. “Definitely improved my quality of life.”

Luci’s brows furrow. “He took away your… sadness?”

“Yeah. I never feel sad; I’m literally incapable of it. He flipped a few switches in my brain, and boom. Life’s been a lot better since then.”

Luci just blinks at that, processing the depth of that statement. She made it sound so casual, betraying the magnitude of being unable to feel a major emotion that everybody across the galaxy dealt with on a day-to-day basis. At the same time that it was astounding, it also didn’t exactly come as a surprise to Luci; in fact, a lot of things were starting to make sense now. Everything from Sierra’s raw confidence to her insatiable appetite for life’s pleasures to her ability to move on from people and places without a backward glance — Luci could see the direct line between those things and the missing emotion. The ripple effects of being incapable of sadness were visible in everything from her personality to her mindset to her interactions with other people.

“So… you haven’t felt sad for the past thirteen thousand years?” Luci says slowly.

“Not a single second. It’s been great.” Sierra yawns.

Luci doesn’t say anything, simply absorbing that. It made sense now. When people she knew died, Sierra was never sad; at most, she was irritated, since their deaths represented an inconvenience for her, such as when Songbird went MIA three years ago. In catastrophes and disasters, she never seemed appalled by the loss of life — she was either impressed by the destruction or curious about the thing that had caused it, as was the case when Tirsigal and Juncosa were scorched. In relationships, she never seemed particularly attached to anything other than the thrill of physical interaction. Her desire to retain specific sexual partners was entirely based on their performance, her enjoyment, and entirely subject to whether she was was growing bored of them. Likewise, she didn’t seem to mind her partners sleeping with other people.

And it is as he is contemplating this that Luci stumbles upon an eye-opening possibility:

If Sierra is incapable of feeling sadness, she might also be incapable of feeling love.

After all, one of the defining features of love is the other feelings that are prompted whenever one is rejected or neglected, with anger and sadness being the two most basic elements present in every such situation. Without sadness, there was no real attachment, because there was no emotional consequence. It didn’t really ‘hurt’ when her lovers moved on, or were no longer available; there was no sadness, just irritating inconvenience, which could be remedied by finding a replacement, or falling back on available partners. It did not matter how much Sierra learned about her lover, did not matter how much she did with them, did not matter how much shared history they had — she would never feel sad about losing them, or being left for another. She was quite literally immune to heartbreak.

But it was immunity only in the sense that a blind person was immune to bright lights, or a deaf person was immune to loud music. It was immunity derived from diminishment, not from being strengthened.

It takes several long minutes for Luci to work his way through these thoughts, these realizations, and to process their full impact and meaning. And he does eventually arrive to the logical endpoint of this revelation: that if he were to disappear tomorrow, Sierra would not be sad. She might miss him, yes, but she would be missing the fact that she no longer had a partner she could readily fall back on to sate her sexual appetite. In time, if it became clear that he was not returning, she would find someone to replace him as her go-to. There was nothing he was currently providing her that she could not get from someone else, if she needed.

Luci expected to find himself angry at this realization. Or at least indignant, or vaguely annoyed, or miffed. Yet he is not; and perhaps that is because deep down, he always knew this. That Sierra has no particular attachment to her lovers, despite the level of intimacy and the height of their passion — this was not news to him. He had observed it for years before this; he knew it already, had accepted it as a fact of this arrangement he had with her. He had come to understand that this was who she was; it was not done out of malice or ill will. It was just part of how she was designed, which had clearly been altered by someone else long ago, and turned her into what she was today — a person that was incapable of certain kind of emotional interactions, but didn’t seem to realize it, and didn’t seem to mind it.

This was just Sierra, the horny vampire that couldn’t feel sadness and just wanted to have a good time and enjoy life. She would never be anything more than that, and he would never be anything more than someone that could satisfy her lust whenever she was having a craving.

That was just who she was, and he didn’t blame her for it, in the same way that he couldn’t blame a hedgehog for being spiky, or a fish for being wet.

“I don’t hold it against you.” he says, pressing a kiss to her platinum-white hair, even though she’s long since fallen asleep. “Sleep well, you silly slut. We’ll play together in the morning.”

With that, he rests his head back against the pillows, closing his eyes.

Just another week in the life of Luci.