So Close to Home

by Galen Surlak-Ramsey

  “So what do you do when it gets destroyed?”

  “What do you mean, what do I do? I die.”

  “Interesting,” he said. He pressed a few buttons on the screen to his tablet and began to dictate. “Subject nine-seven-nine is a flawed species despite spacefaring nature, with only one centralized method of pumping her circulatory system. Stranger still, subject nine-seven-nine finds such a flaw acceptable. Conclusions, subject is either ignorant or incapable of adapting genetics properly.”

  “I’m not ignorant—” I started, but when he sliced open my shoulder with one of his claws, that thought was immediately replaced by a different one. “Ow! What the holy hell did you do that for?”

  Okabe ignored my question and patted the wound with a nearby blue cloth. “Subject nine-seven-nine apparently experiences moderate pain with superficial wounds. Even more curious, her blood is rudimentary when it comes to properly clotting to minimize loss. Note to self: suggest that nonsurgical amputations be tested last as subject nine-seven-nine may not survive.”

  “How about we don’t do any amputations!” I said.

  “Why do you hate science, nine-seven-nine?” he asked.

  “I don’t hate science! And the name’s Dakota, remember?”

  He shrugged. “I do remember that you volunteered for tests in exchange for lodging, food, and a ship.”

  “I don’t care what you’re promising. If you try and chop something off, our deal is off, and I’ll be super miffed. And believe me, you do not want me super miffed.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you don’t,” I said with a growl. Sadly, my growl was nowhere near what he was capable of, I’m certain, and the way he chuckled made me think my attempts at intimidation were more cute than imposing.

  “I think I do,” Okabe said. As he went on, his ears had perked up, and his tail flipped from side to side with enormous energy. “Aside from maybe one or two others, this is one of the most important tests out there. We need to know how long it takes for your limbs to grow back, not to mention how well your body can function and adapt to losing an appendage. Do you know how long it takes to come back with quality data from the field?”

  “No. Why would I?”

  “Trust me, it’s a nightmare since battlefield subjects are usually mangled beyond use.”

  “Let me save you the trouble,” I said. “My limbs don’t grow back, and I’m pretty sure if you chop my leg off, I wouldn’t be good for much of anything other than passing out and bleeding to death.”

  “Are all of you humans like this?” he asked.

  “For the most part,” I said. “I mean, the military guys have all these cybernetic upgrades and nanomachines swimming in their blood doing all sorts of crazy crap. But for us who don’t want to have to sign our lives away fighting in war, or who don’t want to deal with the potential side effects like shortened life-spans, constant itching, and the inability to feel anything, yeah we’re all like this.”

  “Disappointing,” Okabe said. “Though perhaps I should have expected as much seeing how the male who accompanied you wasn’t that impressive either.”

  “You mean Jack? And that better not mean he’s not still around.”

  “He’s still around,” Okabe said. “We haven’t finished his analysis yet.”

  “He better stay around, too.”

  “He will,” he said. “Probably, at least. So much to learn and so little specimens to learn it with. It would be a waste to be careless with his life. Let’s move on, shall we?”

  “Let’s say we’re finished and call it a day, instead,” I countered. “I need food.”

  Okabe laughed. “Subject nine-seven-nine has elementary comedic value,” he dictated on his tablet.

  I frowned. “I thought I was supposed to be helping you unlock something.”

  “Yes, the door inside the art gallery,” he said. “You shall. Need more preliminary data. Much more. Have to ensure all is safe and proper before moving forward, otherwise, kabloowie!” He accented that last bit by mimicking an explosion with all three hands. “Not a fan of kabloowie.”

  “Let me see if I’m hearing you correctly. You have an art gallery that has a door that’s locked, and that door—if I’m guessing correctly—was built by the Progenitors?”

  “Possibly,” he said. “Found an art gallery, yes. Progenitor tech has also been found, yes. Did they build the art gallery? Possibly. Likely. Ultimately unknown.”

  My initial enthusiasm quickly took a nosedive when I thought back to my time on Adrestia, specifically, while I was in the Lambda Labs talking to the little drone AB1. Shortly before he was destroyed, he alluded to an incident surrounding the destruction of an art gallery by yours truly. “What exactly is in this art gallery?”

  “Art, of course,” he replied, tilting his head. “Paintings. Sculptures. That sort of thing. You do know what art is, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I know what art is.”

  “Wonderful,” he said. Then he spoke to his tablet once more. “Subject nine-seven-nine has basic knowledge of cultural expression.”

  “I can even draw a stick figure.”

  “Tell me, what can you do with the implants in that arm?”

  I hesitated a moment, as I wasn’t sure how much I should divulge. I didn’t have the portal device anymore, so I couldn’t exactly show off what I used to be able to do with it, and even then, it might not have been a good idea to do so if I could. As much as I trusted Tolby and the others, part of me thought it would be a bad idea if these Kibnali had the full picture. Still, I couldn’t say my implants wouldn’t do anything, and if they were going to believe we’d come from the future, they had to know I could at least operate Progenitor technology with it. So that’s what I went with.

  “It lets me interface with Progenitor computers and some of their vehicles,” I said.

  “Excellent news,” he replied. “Perhaps we’ll be done in weeks or even days, then.”

  “How’s that?”

  “We’ve constructed a device that has managed to tap into Progenitor technology,” he said. “Or at least, it can send and receive basic signals. However, we don’t understand their language, so progress in actual interface is abysmal.”

  “In other words, you need my arm to translate.”

  “Precisely.” Okabe looked down at his tablet again and tapped it a few times.

  “When do I get to check out this door?” I asked. “I’m curious to see what’s inside.”

  “As am I,” he replied. “But we will need Goshun’s blessings, first.”

  “And how long will that take?”

  “Not much longer, I’m sure,” he said. “Question. What do you know about your companion’s implants?”

  I shrugged. “Not much. Only they aren’t as good as mine.”

  “Subject nine-seven-eight used them to phase through a wall,” Okabe said. “Can you do that?”

  I cocked my head and raised an eyebrow. “Phase through a wall? Like a ghost?”

  “A crude description, but it will suffice,” he said.

  “I have no idea,” I said. I bit my lower lip as I turned the claim over in my head a few times. Could Jack do such a thing? I suppose it was possible given all the things I could do already. I mean, running through a wall would be child’s play compared to traveling through spacetime, right? “Man, I wonder if I could.”

  “Perhaps you should try,” he said.

  I bit my lip, turned the thought over a few times, and ultimately realized I wouldn’t know where to begin and failure could be hilariously painful. “I’ll pass for now. I’d rather not smash my face into a wall.”

  Okabe nodded and spoke into his recorder once again. “Subject nine-seven-nine prefers cowardice to the advancement of science.”

  “Hey! I’m no coward.”

  “Your lack of experimentation and boundary-pushing says otherwise,” he said without any emotion. “Perhaps subject nine-seven-eight is the superior specimen after all.”


  “The hell he is,” I said, putting my hands on my hips and accepting the challenge. Besides, if I had some new superhero power I hadn’t tapped into, I sure as hell wasn’t going to ignore it. “Tell me what he did, and I’ll do it ten times better.”

  Okabe’s ears twitched. “No idea. He simply said he willed it to happen, and the implant did the rest. Quite an ingenious design. No need for formal instruction on controls. Point of note. It didn’t work until he was running at said wall, a moment from impact. Current theory, implant-brain connection requires seriousness of the situation for phasing to occur. Probably helps curb misfires.”

  “That makes sense,” I said. “Okay. I can do this.”

  Okabe pointed to the wall behind him. “Try that one,” he said. “The other side is the breakroom.”

  I nodded and bounced on the balls of my feet a few times. As I did, I rubbed my hands together, all the while taking in several quick, deep breaths to work myself up. I couldn’t wait to make this happen. Think of all the new places I could get into by merely phasing in and out of this dimension. I mean, not as handy as a portal, obviously, that took me anywhere I wanted, but this was going to be pretty damn close.

  “All right, here we go,” I said. “On three. One. Two. Three.”

  I charged forward, full tilt. My arm tingled as I closed the distance between myself and the wall. My gut tightened when I was a pace away, and I had to fight every instinct not to grind myself to a halt and ruin the magical moment I was about to have.

  My forehead hit the wall like a battering ram. I bounced off and landed flat on my back. The wind blew out of me. Half my face went numb, while the rest felt warm and sticky.

  In my semi-dazed state, I heard Okabe make one final comment. “Subject nine-seven-nine is extremely gullible. Likely has a low intellect, reinforcing theory she is, in fact, a practical joke by Progenitor creators. Recommend keeping all conversations with her at a kit level.”

  Chapter Six

  The Dance

  An hour later, after being treated for a minor concussion and a majorly bruised ego, Okabe sent me back to my room. There, I immediately made a beeline for the tub, not bothering to speak to either Jack or Daphne, who were in the common room.

  Once I’d shed my filthy clothes, I sank into a sunken tub filled with warm water that was the size of my bedroom back home. It was fed not by a faucet but by a small waterfall opposite where I was resting my head. Aside from myself and the tub, the rest of the bathroom was comprised of rich wood flooring and full-length windows that offered a breathtaking view of the city thanks to how high our suite was. I usually prefer to bathe with a little more privacy, as I’m not one who likes to attract creepers, but given I was on a Kibnali world and no one cared what a furless, pink, naked alien looked like, I was willing to make an exception.

  Using some shampoo that smelled like lilacs, I took my time getting myself clean before drifting off to sleep. I’m not sure how long I nodded off for, but when I woke, I had more wrinkles than a pallet full of raisins. I probably had a budding case of trench foot, too.

  A chirping noise drew my attention. I craned my head back toward the sink, and there, sitting on the edge, was my ashidasashi staring at me with wondrously big eyes.

  “Hey little guy,” I said, trying to call him over with a curled finger. “Come here.”

  Little guy did not. Instead, he eyed one of the handles to the faucet before tasting it.

  “Who wants a belly rub?”

  I blinked, and in that microscopic span of time, he went from being on the sink to being on the edge of the bath. I took that as an enthusiastic yes and carefully scooped him up. He rolled in my hand, splaying all of his legs to the sides and exposing his belly, which I promptly treated with the best luck-inducing rub I’d ever given.

  Sorry, Liam, but you’re not around anymore to get them (for those of you who don’t know or remember, he was my original plastic elephant suction cupped to the dashboard of my now-no-longer-existing ship).

  “You need a name, don’t you?” I said mid-rub, delighted with how keen the ashidasashi was with my attention. “What are you, a Moby? Nah, too whale. Magic? Too card-like. Ozzy? Nugget? Fido? Oooo. I know! Taz!”

  Taz cocked his head. I wasn’t sure if he actually understood me yet, but it seemed so.

  “Yeah, Taz, you know, because you definitely look like you could be a little devil up to no good,” I said, patting his head. Taz nipped at my finger in response. I yanked it back and laughed. “See? Case and point.”

  A knock on the door drew my attention, and Jack called out a moment later. “Are you still alive in there?”

  “Yeah,” I replied. “Just talking to Taz.”

  “Who?”

  I turned back around to find that Taz had disappeared. My shoulders fell. “Aw, man,” I grumbled. “He’s gone.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Taz, the ashidasashi, was here, but he’s gone again.”

  “Probably for the best,” Jack said.

  “Don’t hate on Taz,” I replied. “He’s the best.”

  “You barely know him.”

  “I know he’s good luck, and he likes belly rubs,” I countered with a scowl.

  “Look, I’m not going to argue about it,” he replied. “As an FYI, Okabe sent you some clothes. They’re here if you want them.”

  I perked, and after popping out of the bath and wrapping myself up in an oversized towel, I cracked open the door. “He did?”

  “Yeah, have a look,” he said, handing me a tall bag that looked like it came from a designer store with wares with price tags so high, only the richest spice merchants wouldn’t faint over.

  “What is it?” I asked, taking the bag.

  Jack looked at me as if I had suddenly sprouted three heads. “Clothes. I said that.”

  “Duh. I know that. I thought you could tell me more.”

  “I’m a guy. What else would I say?”

  “Right,” I said with a playful roll of my eyes.

  “Need some help dressing?”

  My head tilted to the side. “Really?”

  Jack grinned. “You know I had to ask.”

  “Mm-hmm. You know you didn’t have to.”

  “No, but I did figure it was only fair.”

  I probably shouldn’t have entertained the thought, but I was dying to know how he’d justify it. “How’s that?”

  “You saw me naked. I should get to see you naked. It’s that simple.”

  “Ah, no. Doesn’t work that way, sorry.”

  “Pretty sure it does. You owe me reparations.”

  I laughed. “No, if anyone owes you reparations, it’s Baumdon since he’s the one who stuck you in jail and stripped you down. But since he’s dead now, good luck on trying to collect.”

  “I still think you owe me.”

  “Get used to disappointment.”

  Jack, to his credit, remained undeterred while at the same time not being an ass about it all. “Don’t you want to keep morale up? Because a little peek would go a long way in keeping my morale high.”

  “Consider it good character building then to not get what you want,” I replied, flashing him a lively smile.

  At that point, I shut the door with a flick of the wrist and dove into the bag. As it turned out, I’d been presented with a gorgeous black cocktail dress with purple shoulders that was made from something akin to silk. It fit perfectly, much to my surprise, and came with a small matching ribbon as well as boots. The boots went on my feet, naturally, and I used said ribbon to fix my hair up before popping out into the common room where Jack and Daphne were.

  Jack sat on a white leather couch that looked like it could seat nine, while Daphne stood nearby, looking through countless records on the archive cube. In front of him was a round table made from wood that matched the rest of the apartment, and on it was a single lamp that branched out in numerous places, like a tiny tree. Apparently, Jack had been toying with it fo
r a while, but when he saw me, he jumped up and nearly sent it flying across the room.

  “Whoa,” Jack said, giving me the up-down. “Look at you.”

  “You like?” I said, indulging in the moment and giving a slow spin. I know I’m usually practical when it comes to attire, especially since it’s not a good idea to explore caves or race through disintegrating ships in a little black dress, but I do like fancying myself up from time to time, and I’ll be damned if this didn’t look good on me.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you not covered in dirt and sweat.”

  “You clean up pretty well yourself,” I said, noting that he, too, was bathed and now wore some new attire. Sadly for him, what he was stuck with looked fairly bland and boring. Brown pants. Black shirt with long sleeves. But at least they fit. “Where’d those come from? Somehow I doubt they have Men’s Emporium around here.”

  “Okabe,” he explained. “Apparently, they’ve got robots who can tailor dress for pretty much any species.”

  “They’re pretty good.”

  “Except you get to look like you’re going to a high-end social or a regal ball, and I look like I’m trying to sell something.”

  “Poor baby,” I said with a grin. “You wouldn’t look as good in this anyway. Your butt is too big.”

  “That’s why I’d wear pumps,” he said as he made his way over to me. He then held his right hand out to the side and extended an open invitation with his left. “May I?”

  “Are you inviting me to dance?”

  “I did say you looked like you were going to a regal ball,” he said. “Might as well act like it.”

  “What makes you think I can dance?”

  “Daphne said you like Bach and Beethoven,” he replied. “And a girl nowadays who likes Bach and Beethoven knows how to dance.”

  “A girl does, does she?”

  Jack cocked his head to the side and looked at me puzzled. “You don’t?”

  “Oh, I do,” I said with a wry grin. “But maybe I should have said, what makes you think I want to dance with you?”

  Jack put his hand over his heart and feigned a deep hurt. “I thought perhaps saving your life was enough to put aside your disgust for me. Am I truly that repulsive still?”