No, says Cillian.
No, says Lorcan.
It’s clear we need everyone’s testimony, says Ailann. Tarlach will have a turn sooner or later.
Tarlach has a syndicated talk show, say Cillian. I think we all know what he’s going to say.
You’re defensive, I reply. Of course, it’s in the nature of a military man to be defensive.
Let’s play the game of how many expletives I can fit in a sentence, says Cillian.
Of course it makes you uncomfortable that I can see through your defenses. But we’re all friends here. You don’t have to be so guarded with us.
We are not all friends, says Lorcan. And you seem to have forgotten that the SongLuminants are deciding whether to eradicate our entire species.
The thought excites you.
Fuck you, says Lorcan. Fuck you with a pair of hedge-clippers.
That was a good one. You could almost see the shudder of horror ripple through the air.
Actually, says Driscoll, you could see it. The fish-flatulence made it visible.
I really don’t think that the SongLuminants care whether Cillian likes ice cream.
Where did that come from? asks Ailann.
He loves ice cream. But he sneaks out in the middle of the night while Tara is asleep so that no one will see him eat it. He thinks it would undermine his image. But we all know about it.
Yeah, says Lugh, but don’t you think sometimes it’s better to pretend not to see things when they’re kind of embarrassing, but really harmless?
Do you?
Well, I, uh…Lugh is suddenly embarrassed because he knows that we all pretend not to see him sneaking off with Owen.
There is such a thing as privacy, says Owen.
I don’t get it, says Cillian. I never did. Tara thinks the two of you getting it on is hot. So where’s the problem?
I refuse to be lectured by someone with surreptitious ice-cream eating habits, says Owen.
Ailann, says Mickey. You do realize that once more, we’ve lost the plot. It’s likely the plot has dropped through the rip and into the nul-universe, never to be found again.
Your point-of-view is somewhat limiting, says Valentin. Your conception of plot includes only straightforward narrative. However, sometimes a convincing plot can be constructed by assembling a handful of details. As a trained observer, you should know this.
How so? I ask. I’m eager to let Valentin talk. I have yet to perform a thorough analysis of the Goliath emanations.
Well, there are some simple facts that have slipped out concerning the story. First and foremost, we survived, Tara survived, and the Domha’vei is no longer under threat. Second, that Constantine got revenge on General Panic. Third, the form of the revenge was not violent enough to suit Lorcan’s rather rococo tastes in torture.
Rococo? says Lorcan. I thought hedge-clippers were pretty direct.
Would you please stop mentioning that? says Evan.
No, says Lorcan.
You know, the best thing I’ve ever heard come out of his mouth is when he asked why he still exists, says Evan. Why do we have to put up with him? We should take a hedge-clipper to him. He might grow back nicer.
Like I did? says Owen.
Evan looks horrified. I didn’t mean…he stammers. Everyone always thought you were great, Owen. No one wanted anything bad to happen to you.
But they do want bad things to happen to me, says Lorcan, grinning again. Well, I want bad things to happen, too. It’s mutual. I want bad things to happen to me, to you and to everyone, including the Fartfish and the SongLuminants. What the hell kind of name is SongLuminant anyway? I’ll tell you. Pretentious, that’s what it is. It’s exactly the kind of name that some self-righteous cunt who sits over everyone in judgment would have. Excuse me for mass-murdering your people, but it was necessary. We should know. We’re SongLuminants.
He’s right, says Whirljack. Lorcan is right.
That makes me very afraid, says Evan.
They don’t care, says Hurley. Dreams still clear as glass. Calling them names doesn’t bother them, and they aren’t the least disturbed by the allegation that they lack ethics. But there’s a kind of vague approval of Tarlach, and a strong one of Lorcan.
Very, very afraid, says Evan.
“I could tell you,” says Phhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnv, “but I won’t. Not until it’s over, and only if you survive. There’s little point in telling the losers how they fared. It’s not like they’re going to be able to improve their performance in the future.”
I’m really trying to wrap my head around how the fucking fish got a pass, says Cillian.
“I’m not at liberty to say,” says Phhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnv. “Just continue your story.”
Alright, Ari, why don’t you tell us what you were feeling as you released the singularity?
What? I wasn’t feeling much of anything. Just that it was done, I guess. It was something I had to do, and I did it. That’s pretty much the way I’ve always worked.
So you didn’t feel any satisfaction?
I just wanted to get back to Tara. The revenge thing seemed pointless. However, I knew that General Panic and the CenGov armada were real threats, and so we had to deal with them.
I like the way he thinks, says Whirljack. He gets things done. He knows what’s important.
I got that from you, he says.
But you’re scarily obsessive. You got that from me, says Suibhne.
This is fascinating. The Atlas branches serve as a form of analysis for the Goliath branches, and vice versa. For example, it’s really instructive to see how Mickey’s observation and analysis are reflected in Valentin, but tempered by Evan’s sensitivity.
It’s nice, though, having a brother, says Evan.
Do you feel sexually attracted to him?
WHAT?
Everyone knows that Evan is the most modest of the emanations. He makes pretense to a certain delicacy of feeling. And then when he gets into bed with Tara, the inhibitions fly out the window, and he’s thrusting like a double-barrel photon drive. Therefore, my question is calculated to make him confront his sexual hypocrisy.
Evan turns a sunset shade and buries his face between his knees. Thanks, he says. Thanks for sharing that with a wide variety of sentient species.
You didn’t answer the question. We all know that Owen and Lugh and Whirljack and Blackjack are incestuously involved…
Wait a minute, says Whirljack. BJ and I only go along with it because Tara thinks it’s hot. No way are we perverts like Owen and Lugh.
Thanks, says Lugh.
Well, I mean, it is a perversion, isn’t it? The two of you over there, and Tara isn’t even around. We can’t even get off without her, so what is that all about?
I get it, says Owen. Of all of us, you’re maybe the most focused on Tara. And you see our involvement as a kind of distraction from her. I worried about that too, but Tara doesn’t seem to mind.
I’m furiously recording all of this in my branch. Whirljack has a salient point. If perversion is possible in the Cu’enashti, then it would take the form of sexually fetishizing something other than the Chosen.
Now that I look at it that way, says Callum, it’s disgusting. Ew.
Lorcan laughs uproariously. It’s okay, he says. The fact that you’re perverts doesn’t change how I feel about you at all. I still loathe you.
Whywhywhy are we airing our dirty laundry in front of the fish? asks Cillian.
It’s okay, says Ailann. Just go on.
Something about the way Ailann says that puts me on edge. Something about the way Ailann looks significantly at Hurley.
“It’s fine,” says Phhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnv. “It’s expected. If you didn’t try to game this somehow, we’d think you were total idiots.”
You’re using Hurley to analyze the SongLuminants, I say to Ailann. You’re trying to provoke us into saying the most outrageous things we can, just to see how they’ll react.
Yes, says Ailann, but. Nothing that has been said is untrue. I don’t think that there’s a point in ultimately trying to hide anything from them. We might as well get it all out in the open.
Glowing purple, says Hurley. That was a score.
Well, I say, if that’s the case, let’s all talk about sex.