My flirtation with Jonah went nowhere, Kenrai has insights we don’t, Beauregard went off with Ethan anyway (talk about green!), and Ethan may have been right about Tara – the trip to Celadon was the first quality time I’d spent with her since my emanation.
Before I sink even deeper into useless brooding, I go looking for Dermot. Not really as a form of solace; Dermot consoles no one. He doesn’t have Patrick’s charm, Ellery’s vulnerability, Sundar’s crystalline perfection. Dermot has beauty like a knife, heartbreaking beauty which makes you want to weep in desolation – at your own inadequacy, at never being able to possess him, at the very misfortune of those beings in the universe who will never behold such transcendence. In my wisdom, I have allowed myself one utter folly, my blind and unreasoning love for Dermot. It could be worse. He’d never try to use or manipulate me. He’d never hurt me, or anyone, if he could avoid it. I’m just not sure he’s capable of loving anyone other than Tara. The more I’m with him, the more he continues to elude me.
Dermot is at Evan’s. Dermot and Evan are kindred spirits – meaning that they somehow manage not to intimidate each other. Quennel has also correctly assessed Nash, Benbow and me: Not a Threat. Quennel’s proposal for the formation of Club V/E was both clever and wise, which is why I accepted it.
I’m a little envious of Quennel because it’s so clear that Evan adores him. I’ve gotten it to the point where I can slip behind Dermot (as I’m doing now) and put my arms around him, and he doesn’t flinch. He’s not good with physicality, which is strange for a branch, and ironic, given the unique nature (and location!) of his gift, the perversely hidden beauty spot. Tara giving him the dispensation to fuck is almost a cruel joke.
It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy fucking. I don’t know what it is. And it’s not that I won’t look in his branch for ethical reasons – forewarned is forearmed. Dermot’s wood is so full of twists and whorls that he’s impossible to read without pushing, but pushing will make him run. It’s too bad about Beauregard. He’s like Benbow and Nash – good, straight wood without knots. It’s nice to know exactly where you stand, wise to choose friends, to choose lovers like that.
Quennel and Evan are fucking again, but Dermot isn’t even paying attention. Nash, on the other hand, is so caught up in the scene that he didn’t even notice me enter. Benbow smiles and slaps me on the back. « Don’t be too disappointed about Beauregard, » he says. « He might still come around. »
« He thinks he can straighten out Ethan. »
« Who knows? He might. »
« Others have tried. »
« But Beauregard’s youth works in his favor. Ethan won’t have anything to prove to him. »
It’s a good insight. I like Benbow, and he’s smiling at me, and damn, Evan makes a lot of noise, and Benbow is so easy to read. It’s not like Nash or Dermot will care, either. I move a little closer, and his lips are on mine, his hand down my trousers.
If only someone other than Evan or Quennel could get some action. Dermot’s dispensation isn’t doing any of us a damn bit of good. All this frottage is fine, but when pollination comes around, a stiff branch needs a nice piece of ass. We need to get someone else involved, someone creative and kinky. We need someone who can get through to Dermot, someone who can succeed where I fail. He’d have to be non-threatening, like Evan, and intellectual, like me. Still, he needs to have a rampantly physical streak – and he has to be capable of being honest about it. Evan likes to play coy. It’s too bad, that and Evan’s devotion to Quennel, because otherwise he’d be perfect. Especially considering how much older he is than any of us. Hyde was right when he said the old ones are dangerous. I don’t believe that it has anything special to do with Atlas. I think it comes with a combination of the wisdom of experience, and with literally growing into your power – as the branch gets larger, it absorbs more nul-energy.
It’s an interesting theory. I should share it with Cüinn. He’s always complaining about how little actual research we have on the properties of nul-energy.
Cüinn.
« Benbow, I’m sorry, » I say, jumping up. « I’ve got to take care of something. I’ll be back. »
Benbow sighs. « You always are. In the meantime, I’ll see if I can get Nash out of Evan’s head. »
« Wow, yeah, Solomon, I’m sure you’re right, » says Cüinn. « I mean, we know that the biggest branches, like Ailann, are the most powerful, and we also know that the bigger the trees get, the more power they can draw. So it only stands to reason. I’m amazed that no one ever thought of that before. To prove it, we’d need to devise an experiment, of course. »
« Now would be the ideal time, » I suggest, « since we’ve got so many young branches. We could compare their growth. »
« The problem is measuring the amount of nul-energy used. That capability is built into the power grid, but the amount of energy employed by our trees is minute compared to the amount we’re diverting into the grid. It would be like measuring the amount of sand on a beach by counting it grain by grain. »
« I can count the grains of sand on a beach. It’s fewer than the number of molecules in a single human body. »
« Yeah, but we can’t measure nul-energy any more than we can see into a nul-chamber. The sensorium available to human and nau’gsh wasn’t evolved to perceive outside of Universe Prime. You know, Universe Prime is a kind of arrogant name to give it, don’t you think? It’s just like humans to do that – I mean, almost every ethnic group in the history of humankind has called itself “the people,” as if there weren’t any others. »
« Well, what else would you call it? It makes sense to start numbering with one. »
« Universe One would have a different connotation from Universe Prime. But if it were up to me, I would’ve named it Tara’s Universe. Failing that, I’d call it Dusty. Compared to other universes, it seems to have a lot of dust in it. »
« I suppose you have a point. » But what that point is, I’m not quite certain. He’s brilliant, but his logic is all over the place. I can follow a trail of thought like a bloodhound, but Cüinn bounces like a flea. Still, he always manages to land somewhere. « You know, we should talk more. I am your brother, after all. »
« Yeah, that’s right, » Cüinn says, smiling. « Me and Tarlach. Geez, how did you turn out to have so much sense? »
« Are you busy now? I was on my way to, um, pick up some dessert and head back to the clade. »
Cüinn freezes in his tracks. « Are you actually inviting me to a scene? That hasn’t happened in ages, not since that time when Harsh…ah… » Cüinn flushes like a virgin tomato.
« Oh yeah, Beat’s emanation day party. I saw that up on Tommy’s channel. »
« Are you sure I won’t be a wet blanket? »
« Compared Evan and Dermot, you’ll be the life of the party. »
« If you’re sure. I never get invited. »
« Ah, come on. With the gift of sensual enjoyment? It’s just that you spend all your time in this lab. You need to get out more. »
And then I have my second brilliant idea of the day. As we get on the hilift to the café, I send a chatburl to Dermot. I was doing some research with Cüinn, and I realized that he never gets out of the lab. He isn’t even in a clade yet. He’s my brother, and I feel responsible for him.
Cüinn tends to sell himself short, says Dermot. Why don’t you bring him over here for some relaxation? He’d probably enjoy watching Quennel and Evan.
As according to plan.
Cüinn chatters about everything from bloobirds to gravitic field softeners as we collect the package from the café. He has a million ideas a minute, and maybe twenty of them are even good ones. It’s a terrible irony – lacking a filter, he seems like a complete idiot. But how many good ideas does the average person have in an entire day?
« Wow, is this Evan’s place? It’s huge! I’ve never been here before. Not that I’ve been to many people’s apartments. I mean, mine is nothing special. It’s just an efficiency unit in the corner of the physics lab complex. I should show you it one day – it’s so cool! There’s a loft with a bed, desk and chair, and underneath is a storage unit for my clothes and an econo-shower. »
« Have you ever used the bed? »
« Not really. »
« I thought so. Since we never sleep, there’s only one use for a bed in the pleroma – and a small one is impractical. »
« Huh, » says Cüinn, considering. « You’re really smart, Solomon. Maybe I need a lounge. Anyway, I had no idea that Evan’s place was so big or so fancy. It really suits him. It’s great! I wouldn’t want anything like this, though. Must be hell to clean. »
« Nothing in the pleroma ever gets dirty. »
« That’s not actually true. I don’t think you’ve ever been in the State of Decay, right? Everything is dirty there. But here in New Merenis, I guess it doesn’t. Maybe because there’s no entropy? Or maybe penguins just clean everything when we aren’t looking. I wonder if I could devise an experiment to test that. »
Then we get into Evan’s bedroom, and Evan is spread on his enormous, elaborately carved tester bed, and Quennel is pounding him into a sophisticated mattress whose firmness self-adjusts to accommodate rough sex. Suddenly Cüinn is silent, but his mouth is open like a gaping Floatfish, and all I can think of are the wonderful things which could be shoved into it.
Let’s start with a nice chocumber éclair filled with nau’gsh pastry crème. It puts Cüinn on board with Evan – which ought to prime the pump.
« Can I have one of those, too? » asks Nash.
I spread out the treats on an elongated Medieval dining table which is in the bedchamber for exactly that purpose. « I got some of everything. Just help yourselves. »
Benbow looks at me quizzically. Under normal circumstances, there’s little point in eating anyone other than Evan or Quennel. Let’s see how this plays out, I chatburl.
Look at him, I chatburl Dermot. He’s like an eager puppy. It’s such a shame.
Quennel glances in my direction. What are you up to? he burls to me privately.
He seems to be enjoying himself, says Dermot. He’s probably starved for attention. Why don’t you invite him to join the clade?
I would, but it would be so limiting for him.
Dermot looks at me quizzically.
He’s got the gift of sensuous enjoyment. It would go to waste.
But wouldn’t that be perfect for Club V/E? Dermot asks.
You know damn well it would be perfect for Club V/E, burls Quennel. What are you playing at?
I glance at Cüinn, who is intently staring at Evan, his mouth hung open again, and then I glance at Benbow, who is staring at me and grinning. By this, I know that Benbow has been eavesdropping on my chatburls, and Cüinn has not.
It’s like you said, I reply to Dermot. Cüinn tends to sell himself short. He’s not going to go up to anyone and say, “I’ve got the gift of sensuous enjoyment, so use me.” He’s going to sit on the sidelines, hoping that he gets asked. And even if he does get asked, he’s shy about it, and feels like he’s imposing, or that we must feel sorry for him.
All absolutely true.
How sad and how foolish, says Dermot. He’s got a Gold Card! He must know how loveable he is.
His obliviousness is part of his charm, though.
There must be something we can do to increase his confidence.
Ah, he might be better off with Cillian or somebody who would abuse him. He did okay during that bdsm scene at Suibhne’s. Perhaps what he needs is to be treated roughly, so that he doesn’t have to ask or be asked.
Solomon, I see your logic, but the thought is chilling. Cüinn isn’t someone like Callum or Pallav who gets off on that. He’s really rather delicate.
Quennel is trying not to laugh.
« Can I have another éclair? » asks Cüinn.
But what can we do to get him past his reserve?
It’s obvious, even to me, burls Evan.
« Huh? » asks Cüinn. « Did Evan just say something? I missed it. »
I thought of that, but it’s too much to ask, even for my brother’s sake, I reply.
« Oh! » says Dermot. He finally gets it.
« What’s wrong? » Now Cüinn looks really confused. « I’m sorry, was it rude of me to ask for seconds? Am I causing a problem? Maybe I should just go. »
Cüinn is so dismayed, and Dermot is equally mortified that he’s upset Cüinn when he was trying to help him, and it’s working out even better than I expected.
« No! » says Dermot. « I just have…something that I wanted you to see. »
Evan and Quennel stop what they’re doing and sit upright on the bed. Nash looks at them questioningly.
Dermot is completely flushed. He’s so gorgeous that I just want to… « Cüinn, do you mind if I try some of your javajuice tiramisu with nau’gsh puree? »
« Uh, sure! That’s why we brought it, right? »
« That sounds pretty damn good, » says Quennel, hopping off the bed.
Cüinn turns back towards Dermot only to find that Dermot has removed his pants. « You, ah, have to pull back the foreskin. »
« Don’t mind me, » mumbles Quennel, pushing next to me, his mouth full of tiramisu. « I’ve been waiting to see this. »
Dermot shoots him a dirty look. Cüinn’s eyes are glued to Dermot’s cock, his mouth hanging open. « You want me to… »
Thinking quickly, I grab a portion of Nau’gsh Belle Tara, Dermot’s dessert. Impaling one of the brandy-poached honeyed fruits, I shove it into Cüinn’s mouth.
« Yeah, » says Cüinn, his eyes widening. « You want me to do that. »
« I don’t believe it, » gasps Evan weakly. « It’s exactly as you described. In fact, it exceeds expectations. »
Cüinn’s lower lip trembles. « Dermot, » he moans. « Only for you. »
He removes his lab coat.
In the meantime…quest achievements are being made in Emanation Egg Scenes 39a and b –>