*It’s as though Ashtara is daring us to not take the narrative seriously – trans.
Some emanations, like Wynne, have all the luck. Literally. And some always get screwed – not in the good way, if you catch my driftwood.
Tielo is always getting screwed.
Tielo hasn’t been out of his penthouse since he returned from his emanation. It started to get me worried; I did a lot of thinking and decided to take Lorcan’s advice. I’ve come to his door three times before and chickened out. Tielo is intimidating.
Before I can change my mind, I ring the bell. Nobody answers; I’m not sure if Tielo is ignoring me, or if it’s just taking a while because his apartment is so big. I stand there for a few moments, not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed. The massive double doors are framed by panes of glass; I work up the nerve to peek inside. It’s even bigger than I expected: a multi-level apartment with the lower floor mostly occupied by a spa complex. From a distance I spot Tielo, his head poking up over the rim of the pool like a groundhawgg. Our eyes meet. He looks first surprised, then resigned. He hoists himself out of the water and pads across the tiles. The door opens.
It takes me a moment to find my voice. « Hey, Tielo, I just stopped by to see how you were doing. »
He’s blocking my entrance. He looks terrible. « I’ve been better. When I have to do that…emanate without connection to the power grid…it really messes with my head. »
« Want some company? » He doesn’t respond immediately, so I pull out my trump card. « I brought dessert. »
Dessert is almost impossible to resist. At least I’ve learned that much by hanging out at Sloane’s.
He hesitates. Should I have brought drinks? What do archons drink? Ailann used to like scotch – Patrick likes brandy. What does Tielo like – rhybaa? Champagne?
Tielo sighs, gesturing for me to enter. It’s beautiful, surrounded with a veritable forest of tropical plants; the centerpiece is an open atrium housing an enormous swimming pool with a naturalistic waterfall cascading over a rock wall at the far end. There’s also a winding waterslide over the falls.
« Let’s go out on the patio, » he says. We walk about two-thirds of the length of the pool before he shows me a rope hanging from the ceiling. I look at him, baffled, and he laughs. « If you’re feeling lazy, hook your foot into the strap. »
« Like this? » I ask. Suddenly, I’m moving upward.
« It’ll tow you automatically, » he says. « Just don’t let go. »
A bit more adventure than I prefer just to get upstairs. Tielo follows, doing it the hard way, by climbing. « How do you get down? »
« Through that two-story tube slide back there, » he answers.
The climbing rope leads into an office. At the back is a sliding door opening onto a corner patio. With the exception of this door, and another door leading to a bedroom, there is cushioned bench seating around the periphery. Open to the elements, the tiled area offers a glorious view of perpetual sunset over the Sea of Illusion, which is odd considering that just a minute ago, the sun filtering through the glass ceiling of the atrium was the warm light of late afternoon. In the center of the seating is a gas fire-pit, which Tielo ignites.
Nestled into the rough, natural-weave pillows, feeling the ocean breeze through my hair, I couldn’t imagine a more perfect place for entertaining of any type. And yet, he never has any visitors. I think about my own apartment, an observatory with an enormous collection of telescopes from all historical periods. Our living spaces are not created randomly.
Tielo was not meant to be alone.
Tielo produces two weave-wrapped tumblers and a decanter containing some very fine tequila. He smiles, but nevertheless, looks so sad, so exhausted. « Here, » I urge, opening the pastry box. « Try some nau’gsh dampfnudel. »
« All right, » he says. « You can try mine, if you really want, but you won’t like it. »
I down a shot, then slide the pastries from the box. « There is no such thing as a bad dessert. »
Tielo’s dessert is nau’gsh filled baumkuchen, and it smells delicious. I take a bite, and I feel…
It’s like a hurricane wind has slapped me suddenly against a wall, and I’m being sandblasted by dry, sharp particles of dust, but the dust is actually bits of information attached to the roaring flame of nul-energy extending beneath the roots of Yggdrasil. This is what he feels like – no, this is the aftermath, over a week later.
But I’m an Yggdrasil emanation too. I may not be an archon, but I know what to do with the power flowing through my roots. I just need some way to orient myself, something to hold onto…
My stars. My lovely stars. Image of Tielo, staring out the window, looking up into the Frangfrangian sky at midnight.
« Tielo! » I scream, snapping out of it. « The stars! They’re fucked! »
« What? » he murmurs, puzzled, still dazed with nau’gshtamine.
« BGG476Y5b, Lubrov’s Snowball. It’s broken orbit around its companion star and is falling towards it. At this rate, it will collide within five years. »
« Really? » he says, politely.
« That’s not natural! It was shoved! »
« Um, Rainier, I did warn you, didn’t I, that my mind isn’t quite right? »
« You don’t understand! That’s how type Ia supernovae are formed. »
« So…it will be an exciting stellar event? »
Yo, kiddo! burls Lorcan. You’ve got to tell Ailann, no, tell Aran. He’s the man for this kind of cosmic disaster.
« Lorcan? » says Tielo. « Was Lorcan listening? »
There’s pounding at the door, then the sound of a lock snapping as it’s kicked open. « Must I climb this infernal rope? » yells Aran. I jump into the tube slide and land sprawling at his feet.
« Proximity? » he asks.
« 8.43 parsecs from Skyvale. Goodbye ozone layer. »
Tielo hops off the bottom of the slide. « That’s bad. »
« That means that most forms of life on Skyvale will be destroyed in 32-33 years, » says Aran. « Bad is a bit of an understatement. »
« Well, they’ve got time. They can evacuate, » says Tielo.
« Skyvale has over five billion human inhabitants, » says Aran. “Besides throwing their civilization into utter chaos, the mass exodus of refugees will have an economic impact on all of humanity. »
You know, this is smellier than an unhygienic Floatfish, chatburls Lorcan. If Tielo hadn’t taken his little detour to the moon, we’d be on Skyvale right about now.
« But your mental image of me is from over a week ago. » says Tielo. « They haven’t noticed the changed trajectory of the star? »
« Something like that will move very slowly at first, » says Aran. « As it gets closer to the companion star, it will accelerate due to the increased gravitational effect. »
« It’s more like it rolls down spacetime » I correct. « Just imagine a giant pinball machine… »
« You said it was shoved, » says Tielo. « Can’t we just shove it back? »
Aran grins bitterly. « I fear that Rainier’s descriptions are a bit colorful. It is, however, possible, that we could shove it back, that is, if we knew how it had been shoved in the first place. »
We’d fucking better shove it back, says Lorcan, cause you know who’s gonna get blamed for it?
« You’re probably right, » says Aran grimly. « In the past, Ailann has destroyed a singularity, and I’ve created a proto star and used a solar flare to retaliate against Arthvea. We are the obvious suspect. »
I plop heavily onto a woven patio lounger. I feel queasy – maybe it’s a lingering effect from Tielo’s sensorium, but the stress sure isn’t helping. « Remember what Kenrai said? Half of humanity is convinced that we’re trying to flex our muscles in a way that won’t inconvenience Tara. »
They won’t look further for a culprit, and even if we offer to help, they’ll think we created the situation to put them in our debt, says Lorcan. That means we’d better find the real perp ourselves, and fast.
« SongLuminants, » Tielo suggests.
Not their style, Lorcan replies. If they wanted the people of Skyvale dead, they’d just possess them and have them murder each other. And they wouldn’t give them a 32-year warning, either.
« There are other civilizations which might have the power, » says Aran. « but the Eer-gaaani have no record of any hostilities towards anyone, and the Denolin Turym have every motivation to protect us. »
Whoever is fucking with us, says Lorcan, just upped the ante.
Tielo is standing alone, his expression so confused and disheartened. « I’m so sorry, » I blurt out. « Tielo, I just wanted… »
« I know, » he says. « But we’re better off aware of the problem, right? I just have the crappiest luck. »