Chapter #26A Little Talk About Ousiarchs by: Seuzz   The morning's meditation routine goes well, and neither girl has any unusual problems with it. Afterward, you take them back to your office for a frank and open talk.
"I gotta say, it's kind of scary," Punthali admits, and it's a shock to hear Cox's flat American accent, rather than Punthali's more halting and musical inflections, coming from the girl. "These ousiarchs—" He stumbles a little over the word. "They're kind of overwhelming."
"Both of them, or just Lurga?"
"Lurga's the big, heavy one, right? That one for sure. It's—" She shivers, and anxiety creases her brow. "Is it okay to be scared of these things?"
You steeple your fingers and try to consult Kali's knowledge without falling into her personality.
"A healthy respect is a good thing. Fear though—"
"Is it gonna smush me?"
"Smush you?" You feel your eyebrows shoot up, and Vidya too looks alarmed.
"What I mean is, if I'm afraid of this thing, is it going to figure out that I'm not, um, really—?"
"Well, that's something we should all be worried about. Because we don't know, do we? I don't, and Kali doesn't either."
"Oh, Jesus," Punthali groans. "Oh, fuck me."
"Well, just don't be scared of it. Treat it like you would a bear."
"I thought," Vidya jumps in, "bears were supposed to be more scared of us than we are of them."
"It's the same fucking principle, Muniz. Just treat it with a suitable respect and, well, awe. Like walking into a strange church. Show it respect, but don't assume you'll be struck down by lightning just because it's not your, you know, denomination." Punthali grimaces and rolls her eyes.
"What about you?" you ask Vidya. "You getting the same feeling?"
"I think I know what you mean," she says, nodding. "They're strange and kind of scary. But I don't feel like they can see me, exactly." She looks at Punthali for some kind of support or agreement, but Punthali just continues to listen with an unhappy expression. Vidya hesitates, then says, "It's scary, but I actually like it!"
"How so?" you ask as Punthali blanches a little.
"I don't know! It just makes me so ... excited!" She stretches grasping, claw-like hands at you as her face brightens. "I just want to run out and do things!"
"I wanna crawl into a hole and hide," Punthali grumbles.
"Hold that thought," you tell her. To Vidya: "That would be the Viritrilbian/Kenandandran influence. A desire to build from the latter, and an impatience from the former."
"Well, it's wild, whatever it is!"
"Indeed. Your conjunction—"
"Is it like this for all of these people? For you?"
"I was going to say that it's a predictable result from your conjunction. Most Viritrilbians are enthusiastic about their prodigies—"
"Their superpowers!"
"Yes, but—"
"I just wish Vidya'd actually had some when I got put here! Superpowers!"
"Prodigies," you correct her. Briefly you consider sharing your suspicions about who these bodies are ultimately destined for, but decide it would serve no useful purpose.
Instead, you tell her, "Well, continue to lean into that enthusiasm, but don't let it carry you away. For instance—" You tap your ear. "Don't misplace your accent."
"Oh. Right." Vidya grins.
"I've got some classwork for you." You draw a couple of sheets of paper from a manila folder, and hand them to her. "We'll have a lecture/lesson here in a bit, but you're a college graduate, Muniz, so I assume you can handle a little pre-algebra."
She groans as she takes the papers. "Do we hafta have lessons? If we already—?"
"Except for these daily debriefs, we will carry on exactly as our impersonations would. Their routines as well as their personalities. And I want perfection."
"Lucky I was never good at math," Vidya mutters. "Makes it easer to keep my grades down."
"You may get started, then. I want to talk to Cox a little before we join you."
With a shrug and a sigh, Vidya gathers herself into a heap on her feet and trudges out, pulling the door shut behind her. You turn to Punthali, who is looking sour.
"You said you wanted to crawl into a hole and hide," you say. She nods. "That is not uncommon with adepts of Lurga. Saraswati," you add, using the name that the India-based Akshardham prefers. "And that is not fear, let alone terror, of the ousiarch."
"It feels that way."
"And you can't let it feel that way. You mustn't, it'll cripple you and it might blow your cover. You have to think of it in the right way."
"And what 'right way' is that?" she asks after you have fallen into a thoughtful silence.
You hesitate over the analogy, then embrace it.
"Remember how you liked to hide under the covers when you were— Well." You point at Punthali. "This old?" Her eyes narrow. "You liked to burrow because it made you feel safer? Isn't that like what you're talking about now? Hiding in a hole?"
"I guess," she grumbles.
"Well, is it?" you press.
She ponders a moment, then nods.
"Well, you weren't looking for safety. Even as a kid, you knew—you had to know—that a wolf or a monster was going to be able to get you if all you had was a sheet over your head. So you weren't looking for safety. You were looking for tranquility. For peace of mind."
The girl looks thoughtful without quite losing the resentful expression.
"Well, tranquility—peace of mind—those are things that you're supposed to get from Lurga. From Saraswati. He is terrifying because he is so immense and overbearing and weighty and, yes, grim. But that's also what makes him like a fortress, a hideout, a refuge. A place of safety where you can rest, knowing that you are safe."
"Okay," Punthali says, sounding dubious still.
"So if you want to handle him, don't think of him as a giant scary thing. Think of him as a giant pillow fort. As an immense, heavy blanket you can hide inside. Don't try to hide from him. Try to hide inside him."
Punthali stares back with an expression that looks blank, but gradually dawns with a look of understanding.
"Huh," she says. "That's interesting."
"Try it tonight, when you meditate. For now, just try to get through the day."
You hand her a few sheets from a different manila folder.
"And try to get through these without looking like a nine-year-old math prodigy."
* * * * *
With the briefing over, you dismiss her and turn to work of your own. There are bills to pay, and questions to answer from contractors working on Gavin Stewart's mansion. (One of these you have to talk out of quitting because he is so aggravated by Stewart's aggressive complaints about the quality of his work.) After an hour of that you join the girls in the "lesson room" (a repurposed den) where you crisply instruct them in math and give Punthali her English lessons. Usually Kali is pleased at the rapid progress that she has been making, but today you express some slight disbelief at how well she did, and she slows back. Then, late in the afternoon, you dismiss them to meet and play with friends in the nearby park while you prepare dinner and do a little light housework. Afterward you release them to play or read—television is rarely bestowed privilege—while you return to your architectural and design work.
The nightly meditation session goes off well, and Punthali, after consulting a little with Vidya about how to express herself, haltingly tells you that your earlier advice worked well. She looks relieved.
You are finishing up your nightly work quota when your phone rings, and you are surprised (and a little trepidatious) at who it is: Miko Toyotami, one of the Malacandrans you are expecting.
"Kali!" she exclaims with delight. "Are you picking me up Wednesday?"
"Why hello, Miko," you say, and try to put as much pleasure into your tone as you can. "I thought Malaika was making the travel arrangements."
"She is! But I was hoping she'd ask you to pick me up!"
"Oh. Well, she hasn't. Erm, would you like me to?"
"Why do you think I was asking? Unless you don't have a spare bedroom."
Spare bedroom? "Am I putting you up?" you ask.
Miko gasps.
"Well, if you don't want me staying with you, Kali—!"
"No, it's not—"
"I only thought that because we haven't seen each other since—"
"I'd be delighted t—"
"Or do you think I'm going to scare all the hard work out of those kids you've been—"
"I will pick you up at the airport on Wednesday, Miko, and yes I do have a spare bedroom you can stay in. Will you be calling Malaika to inform her or shall I?"
"Oh, who cares? Malaika's a big girl and she can roll with the punches."
So can I, you have to remind yourself. "I will call her anyway. What about Frank?"
She gasps again. "You're not going to ask me to share a bed with him!"
"No, I—"
"He's a perfect gentleman, Kali, but I—"
"I was asking if I would be picking him up at the airport as well."
"Pff. I don't know what time he's getting in."
"Then I will coordinate with Malaika there as well."
"Great! All she told me was that someone would be picking me up. So how have you been?"
The rest of the conversation, though just as disjointed and jarring (because that's what it's like talking to Miko), is mostly small talk. And Miko saves the bombshell (because that's what it is) for the very end. You are talking about taking her to the airport when it is time for her and Frank to leave on their mission.
"Oh, Stars!" she snaps as she checks her flight time. "I just noticed. We have to change planes in Indianapolis, and they're gonna jam us onto one of those little commuter jets. I hate those things."
"Why a commuter jet?"
"Only flight out to where we're going, I guess."
"And where is that, if it's not classified information."
"Some dinky little burg out east called Saratoga Falls." You have the following choice:  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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