Natalia: Part 4

Alan lay on the grass. Natalia lay beside him with her eyes closed. The cloud cover never broke in the Atlas Hotel, but it was a warm day anyway—the kind that made your body forget it was trapped.

“You know,” Natalia said lazily, “this show is fascinating.”

Alan turned his head toward her. She sounded almost content. That was unsettling in its own way.

“I mean, it’s evil,” Natalia added, as if remembering she was allowed to say that, “but you have to wonder about the Audience. Are relationships like this how they form families? Or is it compelling because it’s so different from their own lives?”

“I think a bit of both,” Alan said after a moment.

He felt better after the nap. The horse kick still hurt, but not in a way that made him nauseous.

“Ariadne’s parents are weird,” he continued, “but I think they’re a couple, not—like—two members of a polycule.”

He paused, searching for the feeling under the words.

“I get the sense they’re… invincible. You see it in Nagasaki. And her father was, like, peak sitcom dad energy when we met. Jill flirted with me a little and no one even blinked.”

Alan stared up at the gray sky.

“If the Audience is like that,” he said, “I think they might not get that abduction is wrong. I’m sure some of them do. But if you’re immortal, the scale has to be different. They haven’t had consequences for thousands of years. Not like we have.”

“Immortality,” Natalia murmured, wistful. “You don’t think I’m shallow for wanting that, do you?”

“I mean,” Alan laughed softly, “most people want it. You’re not hurting anyone, so this isn’t a Voldemort or Dracula situation. Why would that be shallow?”

Natalia’s eyes stayed closed, but her voice sharpened the way it did when she was building an argument.

“I’ve always heard it’s wrong to want to be immortal,” she said. “**** gives life meaning. You can’t violate the natural order. You’d watch everyone you love die.”

She scoffed, not quite a laugh.

“But really… isn’t that all bullshit? Vacations end, but if you’re dead, you’re not around to experience the ending. The ‘natural order’ is a long line of babies who died before growing up, so fuck that.”

She took a slow breath.

“I’d want my kids to get it too, obviously. That’s the big one. But if you can share immortality… what’s the problem?”

“People say you’d get bored,” Alan said, and he surprised himself with how angry it made him. “That’s so fucking stupid.”

Natalia’s mouth twitched.

“Like—are old people bored,” Alan continued, “just because they’ve done more things? By the time you did everything, the world would have grown and made new things. Maybe that runs out someday, but that would happen long after we stop being able to understand the time frame. So maybe it doesn’t.”

“I know, right?” Natalia laughed. “Fuck aging, fuck ****, fuck boredom.”

She opened one eye, bright with sudden heat.

“We don’t have to start **** people for reality shows when we’re bored. Just—get a pet, learn history, build boats. There’s gotta be something more fun to do than watch this.”

“Do you really think they’re bored?” Alan asked.

Natalia sat up so fast her hair fell into her face.

Ariadne was sitting in the grass beside them.

Overalls gave her the look of a gardener who’d wandered in to check her tomatoes and found a philosophical crisis instead.

Alan waved, because waving was easier than deciding how to react. “Hi.”

Ariadne waved back, almost absent-minded.

“They say they’re bored,” Ariadne said. “That’s what people expect them to say.”

She exhaled, tired in a way that had nothing to do with sleep.

“I’m sure some of them are,” she continued, “but I think it’s closer to addiction.”

Natalia’s posture tightened. “Where did you come from?”

Ariadne shrugged, as if the answer was “the air.”

“I didn’t hurt Christian,” Ariadne added quickly, like she’d been carrying that sentence around waiting for an opening. “Naga just… didn’t understand what a sex toy was.”

“Oh.” Alan’s brain involuntarily replayed Christian’s morning panic and Chloe’s silent hand on her wrist. “What happened?”

Ariadne looked down at her hands.

“Christian wanted to unlock a spell,” she said. “And I’m her roommate.”

Ariadne hesitated, then pushed through the embarrassment.

“To be honest, she freaked out afterward. Tess didn’t help.”

“Is everyone okay?” Alan asked.

“No,” Ariadne said simply. “But nothing you need to worry about.”

She ticked it off with grim efficiency, like a crisis report.

“Tess and I need to talk. Christian and Chloe are trying to figure out what they are. Laurel and Joan are having a blast. Sky’s date is livestreamed and going… well.”

Ariadne reached out and traced the edge of Alan’s bandages. Her fingers brushed his scabs and came away clean. Alan felt warmth sink into his skin as the pain dulled into background noise.

“Thanks,” he said, more sincerely than he meant to.

Ariadne smiled back, and vanished in a flash of pink light.

Natalia exhaled.

“Well,” she said, shifting closer again, “that’s good.”

Alan’s mood had soured. The grass felt less warm.

“You don’t have to pretend this isn’t freaking you out,” he said.

Natalia gave him a sideways look, and her smile turned sharp.

“Alan,” she said, “do you think this is the first time I’ve been on a date with someone I wouldn’t normally consider dating?”

He blinked.

“It’s true,” Natalia continued. “You’re not who I would’ve picked. Very few women want to be in a harem, and I don’t like that.”

She tapped his shoulder lightly, like emphasizing a point in a conversation she’d had before.

“But none of us are stupid enough to think you chose this.”

Natalia’s voice softened—not kind, exactly. Honest.

“After my ex-husband,” she said, “dating someone earnest, younger, and open is… exciting.”

“Thank you,” Alan sighed. Then the words came out wrong anyway, because there wasn’t a right way to say them.

“I guess the problem is I don’t care about you,” Alan said. “Fuck, that sounds awful.”

He stared at his hands.

“I don’t know you. I can’t possibly give you anything you need.”

Natalia was quiet for a full minute.

Then she said, “You’re right.”

Alan flinched.

“I would leave if I could,” Natalia went on. “If I could leave without the immortality, I would—because I don’t know what’s coming.”

She looked at him, eyes clear.

“It’s not your job to take care of me.”

Natalia’s expression didn’t soften, but something in it steadied.

“I’m the only one here who can take care of myself,” she said. “Don’t worry about it. If we become something better, that would be great. If not… we figure out what’s next.”

Alan’s throat tightened and he hated himself for it.

He started to cry.

“I’m sorry,” he said, the words tumbling out. “Everyone’s counting on me and I’m gonna fuck it up. I’m obviously gonna fuck it all up, and none of you can just walk out!”

Natalia didn’t move away. She didn’t rush him either.

“What are you afraid you’ll do?” she asked, calm as a locked door.

“Hurt someone,” Alan said. “Make them feel small. Make them feel unsafe.”

He lay back down, staring up at gray sky like it could answer.

“Be the center of someone’s world and forget they exist. Take what wasn’t offered. Enjoy something horrible because it feels right.”

Natalia listened like she was taking notes she didn’t need to write down.

“Okay,” she said finally, and sighed. “Have you tried therapy?”

“Duh,” Alan laughed wetly. “Who hasn’t?”

“Well,” Natalia said, and now her voice had a professional quality—clean edges, no panic. It was oddly comforting.

“We need to get you a therapist. That’s clear. We all need one, if we can get one.”

She glanced toward the hotel in the distance, like she was already thinking about what the system would allow.

“Right now you’re paralyzed,” Natalia continued. “That’s dangerous in a different way than being insensitive. You don’t need a pep talk.”

She looked back at him.

“You need coping skills.”