As Related by Prince Dermot McRath, Minister of Aesthetic Affairs
Despite how depressed Aran seems to be over the situation, there’s a general sense of relief. Yes, we’re in a bad spot, but at least we know the nature of what we’re facing. The unknown is far more harrowing than a specific challenge.
« Our fate is in the hands of Johannon, » mutters Aran. « I don’t feel any relief. »
« I think we ought to go north – let Owen try to fix the mecha, » suggests Lugh.
« You could help fix the mecha, » Lorcan says to him.
Lugh looks at him blankly. Lugh is supposedly an engineer also, but somehow, Lugh never does any work.
« What about our mission to interrogate the intruder? » says Solomon.
« It’s going nowhere, » says Lugh, « and what more could she tell us? »
« The exact location of the telepathic enclave? »
« Even if we knew that, » says Lugh, « we couldn’t get that information to anyone who could help. We had our shot. »
« You don’t know that, » Solomon retorts. « Having the information at hand could prove useful if an opportunity arises again. »
« I can hardly believe that Lorcan can’t think up an appropriate interrogation tactic, » says Aran.
« The SongLuminant won’t let go, » he replies. « The fucker doesn’t care what we do to her. »
« The last one did, » says Lugh. « Immediately after Ace captured him. Something changed. They didn’t like the result? »
We are going around in circles. I am just as confused concerning my personal matters. If we rejoined the others, it would get me out of an awkward situation with Solomon. Then again, if we rejoined the others, it would get me out of an awkward situation with Solomon.
I don’t know him very well, which is entirely my own fault. It wasn’t helping that I couldn’t see into his branch right now. Was he offended at being ignored? Was he joking? Was he heartbroken?
The last seemed farfetched. He barely knew me. However, romantic love hardly seems like a logical proposition. Whenever an emanation gets a Gold Card, I’m completely shocked. But I and I must have some understanding of it, in order to facilitate it seventeen times.
The thing which is so very annoying is that I could get a Gold Card at any time – if I cheated.
« Owen and Lugh, rendezvous with Ace’s team and deal with that mecha, » says Ailann. « The rest of you might as well stay put guarding the captive. Lorcan can finish his self-portrait, Aran work on the collage, and Solomon take on Beers of the Galaxy. »
« I suppose that might be for the best, » says Aran. « I don’t think that good things would happen if I became overly inebriated. »
« Ugh, » says Solomon. « I guess I can manage it for the team, just this once. Aran, you might as well take over the interrogation. You’re a lot more intimidating than I am. »
Solomon is going to become very drunk. Will that help or will it hurt? My intoxication caused this situation in the first place. Or perhaps that’s wrong. Perhaps my intoxication simply uncovered a situation of which I’d been painfully unaware.
« Might as well take them in order, » says Solomon. « A Chalkolo Red, please. »
The droid manning the bar fills half a pint and waits for the head to settle. This pub has twenty beers on tap, which, I hear, is impressive. Thirty-nine more are bottled, and the rest are synthesized on demand. Ales and lagers, bitters and pilsners, hopchachas and hyperbocks, served cold, hot, warm and dry iced.
« I and I is a methodical intelligence. He works through everything in terms of numbers, collections, lists. Were He human, he might be considered obsessive compulsive. The fact that, of the galaxy’s beers, He has chosen five hundred to serve at what is clearly His pub – the aptly named Moth and Lamp, an establishment which never existed in the real Merenis – must have some cosmic significance. I’m surprised that there aren’t 101, frankly. But then again, this is intended as a solo achievement. One emanation is chosen to undergo five hundred levels of initiation. »
« Five hundred levels of inebriation, » says Lorcan. « Dermot, you think too much, and the wear on your brain is clearly showing. »
« If the idea didn’t exist in the mind of I and I, I would be incapable of thinking it. »
« The Mover is composed of our essential natures, » says Aran.
« The thought doesn’t originate in the sparks. The thought originates in the interference patterns between the sparks. »
Everybody stares at me. I didn’t know that, had never thought of it before now, but it was true. It also made more sense out of the completion of the pleroma according to the color scale. « Each pseudo-color is literally a different pattern of nul-energy, which sets up different resonances within the pleroma. And it is important that none be duplicated, or I and I’s thoughts will ultimately be weighted too heavily in certain aspects. »
« But they must be unbalanced now, » says Solomon, « because the acquisition of sparks has been somewhat random, according to circumstance. I’ll take the Collapsed Wormhole IPA, please. »
498 beers before Solomon reconnects with the grove. I suppose I’d better branch up and talk to him.
I order the chocumber bitters, sitting on the stool next to him. « It’s the best of the ones I tried, » I tell him. « Of course, by the time you finish, your knowledge of beers will be far better than mine. Encyclopedic. »
« These are not imaginary beers, » says Solomon. « They all exist in the manifest universe. That means we have some knowledge of them. We’ve tried a number of them over the past few decades, but I’m guessing that for most of them, Valentin was able to gather enough data through scent. These five hundred beers is a distillation – no pun intended – of Valentin’s experience of beer since he emanated. »
« Moth and Lamp Ale is brewed on the premises, » says the bardroid. « It’s not on the Beers of the Galaxy card. »
« That’s interesting, » says Lorcan. « I’ll take one of those. »
« In other words, I and I gathered a representative sample of five hundred beers and then produced one He felt combined the best qualities of all of them. »
« Likely, » says Lorcan. « This is a damn fine brewski. »
« That’s probably how we do everything. »
« Why does it all have to be so deep and meaningful with you? Sometimes a beer is just a beer. »
« You’re stalling, » I say petulantly. « You should be working on your self-portrait. »
« I left the materials back at the Yggdrasil Tower. Since we were going into a combat zone, I didn’t want to be dragging around a canvas and a bunch of oils. »
« Mine are up there also, » says Aran. « He picks up a cardboard coaster bearing the Moth and Lamp logo from the bar. I suppose one of these should go in the collage. I think that’s going to take longer to finish than the Beers of the Galaxy. »
Solomon orders Black Hole Bitters. He’s moving along at a much better clip than I was.
« In vino veritas, » he says, lifting the glass. « In beero, bullshit. I don’t know the Latin phrase for that, but there must be one. If Malachi were here, I could ask him. »
« I wish Malachi were here. I’d like to ask him some things too. »
« Do you have something going with him? » asks Solomon, leaning closer to me.
« Um. Good question. Well, he’s my brother, but we aren’t that close. Davy and I made him together. But Davy is with Manasseh or Suibhne or both. Davy and Daniel and I were together from the beginning. And Daniel is with Malachi, isn’t he? So I’m not. »
« Branches are polyamorous, » says Solomon. « You seem to be missing that point. »
« Lorcan, » says Aran, « why don’t we go back to the tower and get our art supplies? »
« Because I want to hear this, » says Lorcan. « Also, because someone has got to guard the prisoner, and there’s way too much beer and relationship drama going on over there to trust them. »
« Fine, » sighs Aran. « I’ll go. »
« You shouldn’t go alone at night, » I warn him. « We don’t need you getting lost again. Everyone was worried sick about you, and you were only at the library. »
« I’m the Archon of Skarsia, » he growls. « Everyone is risking themselves on the front lines, and I’m afraid to walk three blocks after nightfall? »
« They’ll be no changing his mind, » says Lorcan. « You know him. »
« He needs to stop being so isolationist. »
« You should talk, » Aran snaps back.
« Let’s not quarrel, » says Solomon. « I’ll go with him. I could use a walk in the night air to clear my head before round two. »
« Moron, » says Lorcan, after they leave. « Solomon is desperately lonely, and he has a big crush on you. Just move in on him. »
« I don’t know what to say. I really don’t know what to say. »
« It’s not trans-universal geometry. Just tell him you want to hang out. Tell him you want to get some pollination action with him. Tell him…fuck! »
Lorcan spins around abruptly. My reflexes somewhat dulled by my appalling tolerance of alcohol (or lack thereof), it takes me a moment before I see what has caused him to become alarmed.
The prisoner has vanished.