The Aquarium

by Emily Shore

  And every several seconds, we must tear at another piece of clothing.

  At the end of the song, we stand naked and panting before one another with the sprite lights containing us in one orb. As if blue fairies have created a haven for our bodies, protecting us. Sky’s eyes ride across my flesh. They are where the truth lies even as his hands take on a new sort of language—an unfamiliar one as they touch me in different ways. More aggressively. What had Haven said? What every man truly fantasized about doing to me? I’m certain there are infinitesimally worse fantasies swarming in thousands of minds. Because Sky only takes this to the tip-of-the-iceberg level.

  Rationalizing it with how it could be worse is how I cope when Sky drives me to the floor and climbs on top of me, rocking himself into me, gripping my hands to station them above my head. And I remember…I remember the night we spent in the Sanctuary’s underwater hotel. I remember the night we swam naked under the stars. I remember our honeymoon night and the shoreline where we first loved each other, the floor, the couch, and outside to the rhythm of the thunderstorm across the lake. I remember it all. Above all, I remember Kerrie and Verity’s faces. Like water nursing my skin, they keep me healed and whole even as Sky and I must pretend.

  * * *

  After we finish the interaction and put the cameras away, Sky and I dress.

  “Sky…” I start, reaching for him, but he shirks away.

  “I don’t want to talk, Serenity.”

  “Call me Ser, Sky,” I urge just with my voice first but then weaving around so I face him. I make my eyes read loud and clear.

  Sky avoids my gaze, looking at the floor. For the first time, I sense the shame soaking into his shoulders, stepping into his veins. Neither of us wanted this. But we can still put each other first.

  Only once we exit the room do we get a surprise visit from Haven. She nods to us both first.

  “You did very well. The client is pleased. And he paid extra for an introduction.”

  I glance up at Sky. While my eyes must hold concern, his are downright aggressive.

  “What does that mean?” I ask the question Sky’s body is practically growling.

  “It means you are not required to do anything but talk.”

  Operative phrase being “are not required”. Like any client pays extra for just a little chat.

  Except maybe this one.

  “Pleasure to see you again, beautiful,” the familiar voice declares just after we’ve entered the private client room.

  Sky, picking up on my relaxed posture, folds his arms across his chest and nudges me. “Friend of yours?”

  Smiling at the young man, I breathe a sigh of relief while pronouncing, “Hello, Tristan.”

  * * *

  I haven’t seen Tristan since the night Sky and Luc competed against one another in an obstacle course and a professional fight. Originally the man who stole a kiss during the Yin/Yang interaction turned out to be the man with a well-guarded secret he revealed after his father died and Tristan became the sole authority over his personal and family’s business affairs. Make that Family. He may be a sniveling weasel, but after his revelation the night of the fight, Tristan is the least of my concerns.

  “Mind scooting to the side a bit?” Tristan requests after I’ve finished shaking his hand. “I paid good money for this.”

  Grinning, I step to the side, closer to the wall, which is made up of transparent glass, offering an unobstructed view of a small variety of sharks gliding through the water along with a miniature coral reef and fish in citrus fruit colors.

  “Serenity…?” Sky questions hesitantly as Tristan sizes him up.

  “Oh, come on,” I tease my husband. “Flex for him. Just a bit.” I pinch my fingers in the air, enjoying this a little too much. For once, it’s nice to not have the attention on me.

  “Tristan Flynn.” Tristan extends his hand to Sky, who shakes it just once, firmly, and pulls it away.

  “Flynn as in…?” Sky asks questioningly, privy to some knowledge regarding the last name I am not.

  “The same one.” Tristan winks and tilts his head, eyeing Sky from a new angle right before he nods to me, filling me in. “Offshoot Syndicate branch. The black sheep of the Family. It’s why our not-so-dearly-departed daddies liked each other so much. But you might say I have more of an entrepreneurial mindset.”

  Sky huffs, “If you’re a kiss ass, just say it.”

  “Wouldn’t mind kissing your ass,” Tristan says under his breath, one corner of his mouth curving up.

  Without meaning to, I let my giggle escape like a plume of bubbles. Sky tosses me an annoyed look. I really should ease up, but Tristan is so cute with his dark spiky hair with luminescent tips, which are all the rage these days. That and programmed hair, which can contort into whatever style the person wants it to, including color. Expensive tech that only the rich use. Tristan’s sharp burgundy suit is open to a silk shirt, floral-patterned, collar unbuttoned.

  “Hope you enjoyed the interaction,” Sky remarks, posture bristling.

  Tristan jerks a thumb toward me. “Pfft, like I’d mess with the infamous Yang. Chats like this can only happen with a Platinum Package. But I can assure you of my pure intentions.” He winks, then corrects himself, “Okay…almost pure. Call it a gray area.”

  “Tristan.” I step toward him, voice warning, and grin when he steps back, startled. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to bite you…again.”

  Tristan blinks once, then nods as if double-checking right before he claps his hands, rubbing them together, then shifts his gaze to me. “Well, as enjoyable as this has been, I’m honestly here on official business.”

  “You don’t say…” Sky remarks, sarcastic mood budding as he wanders toward the auto-bar at the edge of the client room and orders a three-finger scotch.

  “Try the French brandy.” Tristan kisses his fingers, waltzing them in the air. “Absolutely marvelous.”

  “I’m a whiskey guy.”

  “Pity. What about you, Swan? Or I guess it’s Sea Star now…”

  “Serenity to you.”

  Tristan smiles, silver ripples reflected in his eyes, and lights a hand on my arm. He gestures toward the bar. With its shifting fog and evolving water-scapes projected onto its front. As I follow along with Tristan and get closer, I notice how the countertop has an interactive bubble display. I start to touch each one as it floats upward, reveling in the various musical notes that play. As each one escapes, I try to pop as many as I can to release more random musical notes that sound like zombified jazz.

  Next to me, Sky is getting more aggravated. I pick up on his tension, but a large bubble erupts, and I just…can’t…help…it.

  “Enough with the bubbles,” he yells, throwing his hand down on the counter, wincing when the noise that follows is like several piano keys played at once.

  “I’ll solve that.” Tristan summons up the bar’s program, selecting a classical symphony instead. The auto version instead of the manual one. I pout at the lost opportunity to play more bubble notes. If I ask Haven, I’m sure she’d have one installed in the twins’ playroom. They’ll love it. Sky will hate it.

  “Glad to see you haven’t lost your childlike spirit,” Tristan comments, spreading his arms out to the auto-bar. “Pick your poison.”

  “One thing you can count on—Serenity will never stop acting like a child,” my gruff husband responds, downing his scotch. Is that what all this is about? That I can still enjoy myself after everything that’s happened, but he can’t?

  In honor of Bliss, I order a Yin and Yang, and Tristan adds an extra charge to my order, surprising me when the drone serves the drink in a crystal crown goblet with a built-in sprite light of my underwater solo dance. Apparently, it’s one of many souvenirs the clients can purchase. Since most can’t afford the interaction experience, these are the consolation gifts.

  As I pick up on traces of the imported lychee liquor in my drink, Tristan samples his brandy and makes his way to o
ne of the chairs on the side of the room. As soon as he settles into it, I watch the way it contorts, molding around his form.

  “You should try this…” He taps the armrest, leaning his head back and sighing. “Instant massager with AI. Knows exactly where your pressure spots are.”

  “Aww look, Sky, there’s a love seat,” I coo right before sinking in, relaxing when the chair nurses my neck, back, and sides. I focus on a shark darting by, tail swishing the water around it.

  “I would’ve grabbed it myself,” Tristan starts, opening one eye and sipping at his drink, “but I don’t think your hubby would’ve appreciated sharing.”

  “You said official business.” Sky directs us to the point of the conversation, standing nearby, refusing to take pleasure in the Aquarium luxuries. His own brand of defiance.

  “Right…” Tristan summons a drone, ordering another brandy, and places his now-empty glass on the drone’s surface. “Unlike my father, I managed to heighten our business through finances instead of fear.”

  Sky downs the rest of his three-fingers, sighs, then asks, “What is your business?”

  “Various forms of human-technology sharing.”

  “Cyborgs,” Sky says.

  “Love it when you talk dirty.” I can almost believe Tristan’s mouth has grin implants since he never seems to lose his. He continues to explain, “There’s a growing market. Every single human ever born—or made—has interacted with technology. But up until now, only the rich have been able to become a part of it. My company is changing that. Robots and drones will become relics and only kept for the most basic of needs. The future is cyborgs. And we will capitalize on it. But we aim to be ahead of the curve.”

  “What’s more ahead than that?” I wonder, considering my father’s brain interface and how he controlled an entire sky-city due to it.

  Tristan’s words vibrate from his massager. “In ten to twenty years, robotics will become obsolete.” He receives his brandy, kicking back another drought. “We’ve already used this technology on animals for the purposes of spying.” He chuckles, winking. “Don’t tell the Family I told you that. Now, imagine blending the biological and organic with the advanced technology. We already have the technology that can enhance our genes. Even if it’s millions in price.”

  “We know,” Sky nearly growls, the immortal implant undoubtedly on his mind.

  “The new Temple will be unlike anything you’ve seen before. It will take some time, but you will have the opportunity to oversee its production and rollout.”

  “Opportunity?” I incline my head to Sky this time, pondering over the inviting word.

  Waving a hand at me, Tristan elaborates, “They’ve been looking for you for quite some time. As soon as your interview was live, they made plans to send an emissary down here to convince you to return and take control.”

  “I’m not interested.” I put an end to any arguments.

  It’s no surprise Tristan isn’t willing to accept my answer. “You can set and design the exhibits however you please. You can enforce better security, hire whoever you want for managers, or keep everything drone operated. Say the word and there could be no human security to avoid any negative situations.”

  The entire concept is a negative situation.

  So is this world. My mind betrays me. It reminds me how the concept of a sanctum is naïve. A pipe dream. A pipe that led us to this water world. The business of sex will always carry its own trauma. And it always targets the weakest ones, the most vulnerable. Now, parents raise little girls to expect it, to take it as normal. I’ll be damned if Verity is.

  “Your family would be perfectly safe. The Temple Penthouse. Top of the world.” Tristan gestures as the scene shoots to an image of the new Penthouse, little skyways branching out from the main tower and leading to bubble-like spheres for the illusions of walking or even sleeping on the air.

  Forsaking what’s left of my Yin and Yang, I stand and make my way to the tank, eyes tracing the colored patterns along the fish. I never want to return to the Temple. How can I return to the place where Bliss died?

  “We can get you out of here,” Tristan says, attempting to sweeten the deal. “Director Haven might have done work for the Syndicate in the past, but now she’s competition. You know they don’t particularly appreciate competition.”

  “I’ll think about it,” I say without taking my eyes off the fish.

  I don’t want to think about it.

  12

  F a M i l Y

  * * *

  As soon as I see the twins, love blooms inside my chest. Even though it’s well past their bedtime, Neil and Lindy have let them stay up late so we can see them. All four have curled up on the couch where Neil props up a digital book that reads to the twins, holding their attention. Suddenly, a batch of butterflies flutter off the pages. I smile as Kerrie tries to catch one, his arm bumping Verity’s repeatedly, annoying her until she tries to shove him out of the way. When her eyes pinch together, melancholy settles on me, soft as fog on water. Right now, she looks so much like her father. And Kerrie like Bliss.

  Sky comes up behind me and cups my shoulders, gesturing to the route that connects us to the bedroom first so we may change. One benefit of Museum life is the self-repairing smart fashion. In the closet, the loose-fitting nightgown is far too inviting. For some reason, I remain in here. Too overwhelmed at the thought of changing in front of Sky after everything that happened. Just after I peel off the simple fishnet dress and shiver in the darkness of the closet, I hurry into the nightgown, appreciating the temperature-controlled fabric warming my skin. When I reemerge, Sky has already departed from the bedroom.

  The twins are launching toward him when I enter the room. But Kerrie stops, catching my eyes and holding them.

  “Momma!” He points to me. It’s still surreal to hear that word. Especially when they share half my DNA, but my body did not carry them.

  I smile, tucking a few curls behind my ear as Verity rolls off Sky and toddles over to me. Behind her, Kerrie whines for me, arms craning. Not quite as motivated as his sister.

  Verity kisses my one cheek, then the next, repeating the action again and again. Finally, I put a stop it by wrapping both my arms around her and tucking her to my chest, breathing in her sweet scent. The lavender and lilies in her hair. What I would do to give her a better life. One away from this…world.

  Sky fell asleep on the auto-rocker with Kerrie in his lap. It is programmed to turn off in another hour. Lindy returned to their suite a bit ago, but Neil decided to remain behind, no doubt waiting to broach something with me. Even as we watch old reruns of classic shows, one of our favorite pastimes, Neil isn’t focused. His fingers keep tapping on the end table while he occasionally glances my way.

  “What is it, Neil?” I finally whisper, careful not to disturb Verity, who is tucked into the folds of my arm, head tilted down, causing one chubby cheek to form a slight roll that puckers up her mouth.

  “I’m going to make her pay for all this.”

  My memory returns to a couple of days ago when I first saw Neil. When I assumed the bruises on his neck could have been from wrestling around with the twins even if it didn’t quite make sense. I remember the tenseness in his body after he confessed everything. The concerned, borderline paranoia etched in his eyes when he spoke of Lindy. Most of all, I remember the way his chest looked when the sores became infected because he couldn’t bear to leave Lindy alone.

  More than anything, I want to agree. I want to believe it can happen. But how can we win against a world-famous assassin when the only one who ever beat her is now dead?

  * * *

  In the wee hours of the morning, I wake to the sound of Sky shuffling past me, his footsteps heavy from fatigue as he places Kerrie in his chamber crib. Probably so he can finally go to bed. Mimicking him, I tuck Verity in her own crib just next to Kerrie, praying and hoping she doesn’t wake up, relieved when she doesn’t. The crib’s auto sounds of waterfalls echo behin
d me as I follow Sky into the bedroom. He doesn’t turn on the light. Just crawls into the sheets, head crashing like a sudden wave onto the pillow. Inhaling deeply, I take small, gentle steps to the bed, peel back the covers, and slip inside beside him. There he is. All the tension, the conflict, the annoyance…gone. Dissolved somewhere inside him or—I hope—melted off his skin. He looks like Sky. He looks…beautiful. Chin strong but mouth and eyes soft.

  My fingers shake, but I place my hand on his chest anyway, closing my eyes when I feel the pulse of his heartbeat. It seems stronger. Touching two fingers to my own, I take a few moments to count the beats, reassured by them…reassured of our humanity. That this will be one thing we can always share. Sighing, I turn around, curl myself into the fetal position with my arms winding around my legs, and permit myself to tremble. To cry. Because it’s another part of this ‘being human’ thing.

  Just then, I feel Sky’s hands on my waist, chest sliding forward to meet my back, his warmth mating with mine. His lips cradle the nape of my neck.

  “Ser,” he whispers.

  I exhale a deep sigh, trembling again. But not out of sorrow. Now, I tremble while joyful-soaked tears tumble down my cheeks.

  13

  B o u N d a R i e s

  * * *

  It’s unusual for Sky to be up before me in the mornings, but when I hear the sounds of the twins giggling, I embark out of the bedroom to see what the commotion is about. Smiling since it looks like they discovered one of the many upgrades the room came with, I observe the twins as they kneel on the glass of the tank beneath the floor. Somehow, Sky must have figured out how to slide the hardwood floor back. This room has come with so many bells and whistles. It’s a comfort to know they enjoy watching the real fish in the floor tank just as much as interacting with the sprite-light fish in the family room’s volumetric screen. Especially when the app allows us to change the environment, the fish themselves, and how they can leap and respond to the twins’ gestures. Still, they love when a fish skitters close to their fingers only for them to tap and frighten the creature away.