Somewhere else entirely

AROUND FOUR HOURS AGO

You are Eigel.

You laugh as your daughter flees out the door. For some reason her whimpering manages to occasionally humor you. Christ, girl might have the spine of a snail, but at least that makes it easy to mold her. Not like your son.

Ingrid dotes about the kid like the pitiful thing she’s become. You’ve tried to tell her there’s no point, kid is ‘bout as livid as a rock, fool just drooling and staring into nothing.

You told her. You told your wife that all those days and nights spend outside the valley had messed with your system. She wouldn’t listen. You had that dumb daughter, so surely the problem had to be with her. If you both just kept trying. And kept trying, and kept trying, and she kept crying every time nothing happened. Then it did. Now it just sits there… drooling.

Your daughter doesn’t venture beyond the valley, like you used to, and – due to sheer dumb luck – those gullible kids still managed to find stuff. As long as she just sticks to the valley, you won’t need to do anything about it.

Then it hits you! Your slut-of-a-daughter forgot to command the robot.

Without her around, it loses all semblance of sentience. It just… stands there. You know it’s not possible, but you swear, sometimes it feels like it’s watching you. For fucks sake, Eigel, you tell yourself. Look at the screen. It’s shut off. Did so the moment the whore left. If somebody gets hurt tonight – that bitch will feel it doubly so. An entire town depending on her and she decides to gallivant away with her cuck-club.

Wrath gets the better off you. You’ve always had this… thing inside of you. A churning knot folding in on itself, threatening to explode at the lightest breeze. Maybe if you’d found a family that didn’t provoke it, you’d be better off. A fuck-able wife, a son to teach in your workshop, and a daughter to look pretty and admire you. No. Instead they decided to poke and prod you, forcing you to smack some sense into them. It’s not your fault. You’ve told them. They don’t want to make you angry. They know how you are. It’s their fault.

You’d take a wrench to the wretched robot thing. Wreck something, she loves, maybe that’ll teach her. But… last time did not go well. Sure, it didn’t hurt your body. No, much, much worse. It hurt your pride. You kept wailing at it and it just deflected your blows. Your daughter still got what she deserved, afterwards, but if it wasn’t for her robot you wouldn’t have gone as far as you did.

Deep breaths. Don’t let the thing inside get a hold of you. Deep fucking brea—

Screaming in anger, you send Shiva’s mess, littering her table, flying and skipping across the floor.

You’re not going home tonight. Ingrid’s going to make you hit her. You can just feel it.

You’re not going home tonight.

ABOUT THREE HOURS AND THIRTY-SIX MINUTES LATER

You are Jorrel.

Her bosom bobbling steadily as she rolls the heavy machinery, her apple cheeks glistening with the sweat of her labour, Emalie—No… That’s stupid. Why is it so hard to describe something sensual, without making it seem silly? You’re looking at her breasts, sure, but they’re not doing any of that. Still, you’ve got to apply some sort of description to convey how you find her body arousi—

“Joe, you’re fading again,” Emalie grunts as both of you continue to push the machine back to Shiv’s workshop. Fair, Emalie is pushing a little more than you right now.

“Sorry,” you say, “I was thinking about your boobs.”

Emalie let’s go of the machine and stretches her back, “Oh, really? What do you think about them?” Boy, she knows how to smile. You could write a million ways for a loved one to smile and, without a doubt, not one of them would adequately describe how you feel when she smiles at you.

“Are you showing them off right now?” You ask smugly.

“Maybe?” She replies, still stretching. “Shame we don’t have time for you to appreciate them a little closer. Gotta get the love-birds before they get weird.”

“Ha! They’re always weird.” Snapping your fingers, suddenly you remember, “Right! We’re actually supposed to leave them the night over.”

Abruptly no longer needing to unwind, Emalie looks at you with that look, “What?”

“Mute has this whole thing with pillows and food planned. Like a picnic.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She seems hurt.

Delicately, Jorrel, delicately. “Em, you’re awful at keeping secrets.”

“Sure, so, like, preferring openness and honesty is a bad thing?” Emalie crosses her arms over her chest and raises an eyebrow at you.

You can’t help it, even though you know it’s not going to make things easier, but you roll your eyes. “You can’t stop throwing small hints at all times. If Shiv knew, she’d get all anxious and just freeze. It had to be a complete surprise.” Far away, you hear the sound of bells tolling. The sentencing has been concluded and you’ve dug your own grave.

Em seems conflicted, alternating between pouting and grimacing. Surprisingly, she says, “You’re right.”

“I am?”

“Yeah…” Crap, now she just looks sad. “It’s just, like- Ugh. It makes me feel uninvolved. I don’t like it.”

“I know.” You reply, “I imagine that’s how it must feel for both of them when we do stuff on our own.”

Emalie walks to the side of the road and sits down on a patch of grass. You’re out of the ruins and almost at Shiv’s workshop. You sit down next to her and hold her close as she leans in, her head on your chest.

Sighing, you break the silence. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Em snuggles in closer and wraps her arms around you.

“Thank you for being so understanding lately,” you start, “Expedition and everything… And…” You find the words hard. An instinct inside of you, a drive, you’ve never been able to understand, has a tendency to complicate your life. It worries about such important things but makes them seem insignificant and stupid. Makes you want to save and control people around you, even if it’s outside your power to do so. You just want everyone to be happy. Usually, people just tend to tell you to leave it be, to not make it too complicated. Em understands, though. Still, you find it hard to speak.

“It’s okay, pup,” She says, her eyes closed, ear pressed to your chest.

You remember the first time she told you how much she loves to listen to your heart beat. She makes you feel like you can say anything, no matter how pathetic it sounds to you. Hopefully, you can be there more for her when she’s struggling.

“I’m thinking about how we can kidnap Shiv’s brother.” You say kidnap instead of save. Makes it seem like a joke. Makes it less brutal when your feelings get shot down.

“You mean save,” You look down at Em and she has that look in her eye. The one that say, If you want to punch the moon, I’ll start building you a rocket.

Half shrugging, you mumble, “I guess so.”

“No, you do. I know you. And I agree. Shiv’s coming whether she likes it or not – I’m sorry if that sounds insane, but fuck it, I’m not leaving her with that psycho!”

Em can get scary when overcome with righteousness. Her words turn to javelins and her body becomes fury. Scary, but damn, it makes you hard. Spurred by your courage to take do something, she’s the one who throws the groggy, lazy ox of inaction behind the plow and drags it herself. You’re the face, the mouth, but she’s the one doing things. She kindles the flame inside of you, her voice is a clarion call and her determination proudly displayed for all to see.

Em does not know of defeat. Only obstacles with temporary life-spans.

“You’re saying they’re staying there till dawn, right?” Em says, the kindling of imagination flickering with embers of could-be.

“Till we come get them, yes.”

Em springs on her feet, “Like, fuck it! Screw the plan! No more standing by. Everybody in the town knows what that twat does and nobody has the courage to do anything."

"Oh, but he’s the one who keeps stuff working. Better leave him be. It can’t be that bad." You say sarcastically, throwing your hands in the air, then flipping off the entire town. "Better safe and comfortable than inconvenience for a moment while we beat the shit out of an alcoholic child beater!"

Em flips off the town in solidarity. Then - in a hushed whisper - she lays out her plan, "We get stuff from my dad’s warehouse, pack it into a sled, and just take off with her brother. We’ll pick them up on the way.”

“Fuck yes, Em! No way this plan can backfire!" You point to the machine, "What do with this?"

Em almost laughs, “Screw it! we’ll leave it at the warehouse and leave her ‘dad’ to deal with it.”

You high five, then start to roll the machine. In just a couple of hours, you’ll be far away to somewhere better. A place where people don’t just scoff at the unknown and settle for mediocrity. No one else will suffer.

Everything will be fine. You got this.