Penumbra

by Dan Ackerman

  Cole snorted. “Besides, I’m not worried about your lovers, that’s your own business. I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t put yourself into a coma.”

  “I’ve never been in a coma.”

  “There’s a first time for everything. Come on, get up.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know, aren’t you important? Don’t you have something important to do? You should have come out last night; we had a lot of fun.”

  Arden rolled over and buried his face in the nearest pillow. He yawned into it. “Can you get my tablet?”

  Cole handed it over. “Lots of missed messages. That’s what happens when you make us worry.”

  “Not enough to come over,” Arden pointed out. He rolled onto his back and held his tablet up so he could see it, hoping he wouldn’t drop it directly on to his face.

  Cole raised an eyebrow. He gestured to his outfit, which was not an ‘off to morning handball practice’ outfit so much as it was a ‘night at the club’ outfit, all shiny, stretchy fabric with large expanses of olive skin exposed.

  A funny bloom of warmth spread through his chest. He put aside his tablet and latched onto Cole, dragging him into a hug.

  Cole giggled and hugged him back.

  Arden let out a little laugh, too, but after a moment, he didn’t feel silly or warm. He felt strangely empty. He tightened his embrace.

  “You alright, Ardi?”

  “I think so.”

  Cole pulled away, stood up, and stretched. “That couch did something to my neck…” he grumbled.

  “A hot shower usually fixes it for me,” Arden suggested. “You could have come in the bed.”

  “Oh. I…well. I’ll keep it in mind.”

  Arden checked his messages and found the one he’d wanted to read. He skimmed over Rhys’s message and started assigning the requested workers to Rhys’s crew. He glanced over at Cole. “Go ahead, you first.”

  “Breakfast after?”

  “Mm.”

  “Let everyone know you’re still alive.”

  “Ugh. Fine. Go shower,” Arden mumbled. He reread Rhys’s message, just to make sure he hadn’t agreed to anything awful.

  Not that he thought Rhys had awful plans.

  After his shower, Cole padded around the room undressed. He pawed through Arden’s closet and glanced back to ask, “Shouldn’t you be in the shower?”

  “Nothing will fit you in there.” He continued to watch Cole move aside the various garments. A lazy sort of appreciation for the other man hovered at the forefront of his mind. Despite their similar appearances, he’d never felt the same attraction towards Cole as he had towards Mace.

  Maybe he only wanted people he couldn’t have. Mace, Cathie…Nothing he’d had with anyone had ever lasted long. A few months, maybe close to a year, and then things changed. People changed. The fun of fucking the Autarch wore off.

  “You appreciating the view, Your Eminence?” Cole asked.

  “After six years of handball, you look more normal to me naked than otherwise.”

  Cole giggled. He held up a loose pair of pants. “If I try these on and they rip, are we still friends?”

  “Go ahead.”

  Arden rolled out of bed and puttered his way through a shower, keeping his hair out of the water. He left it braided and coiled on top of his head as he dressed. He grabbed the first pants he could but when he looked for the shirt he wanted, he found it on Cole.

  The flowy tunic probably was the only shirt that would fit the other man.

  He wondered if Rhys could fit into his clothes, what he would look like dressed up instead of those rough thrall garments.

  Some of his clothes might fit Rhys. He stood a little taller than Arden and weighed more, though they wouldn’t have been much different in body type of Arden had weighed the proper amount for his height.

  Arden usually liked being skinny. He didn’t think anyone else liked it for him, but he did. He enjoyed the press of his bones against his skin, the narrowness of his waist and wrists, and the hollows of his cheeks. It made him feel…

  He examined his fingers.

  It made him feel delicate. Like something worth protecting, worth taking care of. He had all this money, all these things, all these people, he had to be worth something.

  He didn’t think about it too much because he knew it was wrong to feel that way.

  He picked a different shirt and slid his feet into his favorite silver shoes.

  Cole draped an arm around his shoulder and leaned on him. “Breakfast?”

  Arden sagged slightly under Cole’s weight. “Breakfast,” he agreed without any real conviction.

  He ate, though, and carried on a conversation with his friends, or whatever these people had become to him.

  Maybe this was what friendship became in adulthood. Everything seemed so much duller than it had when he’d been young.

  Zira asked, “So you’re really letting the thralls vote?”

  “Zira, if you ask me again, I will jettison you into the void,” he reminded.

  She scowled at him.

  “Then stop asking!” he scolded. “I told you a thousand times, yes.”

  “I don’t see why.”

  “Because you can’t see past the end of your nose,” Cathie pointed out. “They’re so miserable, might as well let them think they’re making a choice. Right, Ardi? What does one seat do out of eleven?”

  “One voice is more than they’ve ever been given,” Cole said. “One voice can do a lot.”

  “Especially when it’s sleeping with half the station,” Zira huffed.

  Cole’s face crumpled and he turned red from the neck up.

  “Don’t be a bitch, Zira!” Arden snapped.

  At the same time, Mace added, “That’s rude!”

  Cathie, quietly, added, “Completely uncalled for.”

  “What!” Zira growled. “He is.”

  “There’s no fucking reason to say it like that,” Arden said. “Very rude.”

  Cole shifted around in his chair and pushed some food around his plate. His brother put a hand on his arm.

  Arden nudged his foot under the table and gave him the kindest look he could manage when Cole looked over.

  Breakfast turned into an uncomfortable silence and people made excuses to leave, first Zira, then Cathie.

  Arden said, “People will listen to you because your voice matters. Because it’s beautiful.”

  Cole blinked at him.

  “I really like your poems,” Arden reminded softly.

  Mace rested his head on Cole’s shoulder. “Zira’s just mad that she can’t work things out with Alexander.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

  “It’s between the two of them.”

  “I know but…”

  Mace squeezed his brother’s hand. “Their issues are theirs and have been theirs since Zira decided to treat Alexander like a sperm donor instead of the kid’s father.”

  Cole sighed. He snuggled against Mace and heaved a long, dramatic sigh.

  Mace patted his back.

  Arden tried to keep his face from doing anything weird.

  Mace and Cole made their way to practice, which Arden declined to join, though the idea did tempt him terribly, albeit briefly. He did promise to go to their match next week.

  He made a brief tour of some of the farming bays, hydroponic and otherwise. He genuinely enjoyed visiting the orchards. The strict, pruned shapes of the fruit trees appealed to him.

  He touched the pinkish skin of an immature apple.

  Had their ancestors ever dreamed of such a thing? Not just the ones on the planet below them, or on Terra Prime, but on their homeworld. Earth, if it existed. When humanity had first emerged, had a single creature ever dreamed of their children living among the stars?

  He hoped so. He hoped they’d dreamed of it with wonder, instead of terror, which was how Arden felt about it sometimes.

  So far above the world, fixed
in an infinite void. Arden had never felt ground beneath his feet, or seen a beach, or a sunset. He’d read about them, viewed their ghosts in various forms of media, but he’d never felt the wind or heard a river babble.

  Did it matter? Would it change him if he did?

  The supervisors in the bays asked him simpering, careful questions, the thralls averted their eyes, and Arden hated all of them.

  Not personally, of course, but the whole ridiculous farce of it.

  He visited Winslow for lunch but found the old man napping in his armchair. He wanted to wake him but refrained. He picked up a book and settled into Winslow’s couch to wait. He read for a while, but Winslow never woke up, letting out wheezy little snores. Arden finally called it quits, left his uncle a note, and moved on to his next appointment.

  Later in the day, Winslow sent him a message apologizing for being asleep, scolding Arden for not waking him, and asking him to dinner.

  Arden smiled down at his tablet and Winslow’s formal, stuffy way of messaging. He accepted the invitation, of course.

  Staunchly apolitical, Winslow chattered about everything except the upcoming elections. Food, books, movies, clothes, Arden’s love life, or lack thereof, old friends and old memories.

  “What about you, Winnie?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Are you seeing anyone?”

  The old man’s cheeks turned pink. “Me? I’m a little too old…”

  “Nonsense, Winnie.”

  “Oh, well. I’ve had a few very good friends in my time, Arden.”

  “Like Marcus?”

  Winslow had never introduced Marcus as anything more than a friend, but they’d been nigh inseparable for years until the other man had passed.

  “Marcus was a good friend to me,” Winslow agreed.

  “Never anything more?”

  The old man looked a little embarrassed…No, not embarrassed, uncomfortable. “I never wanted anything more,” he said with a particular and gently informative tone.

  “Ah.”

  Winslow pushed his food around his plate.

  “It must be lovely to have that kind of friend,” Arden offered.

  His uncle nodded. “Lovely indeed.”

  Arden smiled. “So have you made any new friends, then, Winnie? You can’t be too old to make new friends.”

  Winslow smiled. “I have friends. Just none like Marcus. Not at the moment.”

  “I expect you’d introduce us if you did.”

  Winslow placed his hand over Arden’s wrist. “Of course, I would, dear.” He gave a reassuring squeeze.

  Arden took a few more bites of food. “Well. I have to go check in with a few things. Election stuff.”

  “Oh, I don’t need to hear about that.”

  “Winnie, you know, you could take an interest.”

  Winslow dabbed his mouth with a lacy napkin. “I support you, Arden, but I don’t need to hear about it.”

  He wondered if Mama had been like that. He hugged his uncle goodbye and walked to the storefront he’d assigned to Rhys for the election preparations. He’d needed an office of some kind and Goshawk had empty shops in the dozens.

  Through the window, he watched the thralls within bustle around under Rhys’s direction. He’d given Rhys permission to raid a few old storage bays for supplies and they’d helped themselves to a lot. More than desks and chairs, they’d taken sofas, rugs, and countertop appliances.

  He stepped inside and everyone stilled.

  “Your Eminence,” Rhys greeted him.

  “Was this everything they had in storage or did you leave something for the mice?”

  Rhys frowned. “Mice?”

  “It’s…I think it’s an old expression. I’ve heard in movies.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Just, you know, you seemed to have helped yourself?”

  Rhys shrugged, a little bashful. “We were enthusiastic to get started.”

  “Everything going well?”

  “As well as it can this soon in.”

  The thralls looked between Rhys and Arden, expectant.

  “Your Eminence,” Rhys added for good measure.

  “You have everything you need?” Arden asked. His hands smoothed over his clothes of their own accord.

  Rhys glanced around. His eyes lingered on a few of the thralls.

  He’d chosen an odd bunch, pregnant women, people with chronic injuries or illnesses, elderly people.

  “Friends of yours?” Arden asked.

  Rhys shrugged. “Friends, or friends of friends. People I trust.”

  “Hmm.”

  Arden paced around the office then lingered near the office. “You sure you don’t need anything else?”

  “I’ll keep you apprised.”

  “Thanks, Rhys. Uh. Cole might be by.”

  “Cole Baker?”

  Arden nodded. “He likes you lot.” He gestured vaguely around the store-turned-office. “Bleeding heart, if you ask me.”

  Rhys smiled.

  Arden hesitated, then left without another word. He’d wanted to say more but hadn’t been sure how much he should say in front of the thralls, or how much Rhys would want him to say. Some thralls, he knew, judged the ones who slept with peers for favors and he didn’t think any thrall had gotten more than Rhys had.

  He decided to leave Rhys alone for a few days. He had a lot to do.

  Of course, he made sure Rhys knew that Arden would offer him whatever he needed to accomplish the task at hand. He might have told him too many times, but this mattered to Arden. It mattered to everyone on Eden whether they knew it or not.

  The lead up to the elections kept Arden busy, despite not having to run to keep the position of Autarch. He had to keep track of the candidates and decide which ones he would confirm, should they win a seat. That meant attending fundraisers, campaign events, and very boring luncheons. He actively enjoyed Cole’s event tonight because soft-eyed artists and well-muscled athletes circled warily around each other, trying to pull Cole in two different directions.

  Cole’s partners represented the divide in his life almost too perfectly. Wei and Mia ranked among the top athletes on the station, in gymnastics and squash respectively. They stood upright and proud, moving through the room like the world owed them something. Alexander lingered off to the side, standing in a small circle with a few other people. He had a drink clasped in both hands and shook his head a lot.

  Arden hung back and watched as Wei and Mia approached Alexander. He didn’t know the state of things between sides.

  Alexander gave a small wave to the other two and seemed uncomfortable when they came closer.

  The three of them shook hands and exchanged greetings.

  Cole noticed that they’d started to interact and politely pushed his way over to the other three. He seemed nervous, but that could be because the election was tomorrow.

  Arden finished his drink and continued to watch.

  Things seemed to grow comfortable between the four of them before Cole had to go speak with potential voters.

  He had confidence that Cole would win a seat. Good family, well-liked, popular writer. Even if the thralls didn’t throw their weight behind him, a decent number of peers would.

  He got another drink, grew bored of watching, and pushed his way over to Cole. “Excited?”

  “Terrified.”

  “Try drinking.”

  “Oh, I’ll throw up for sure.”

  Arden gave him a nudge. “You’ll win.”

  “That’s what scares me.”

  “Well, I promise I won’t let you fuck up too badly.”

  Cole gave a thin, nervous smile. He forced a chuckle.

  “You mingle. I’m going to, uh…probably just find another drink,” Arden declared, suddenly uncomfortable.

  He found several more drinks, then found his way home.

  He stared out the window for a while, then messaged Rhys to come over.

  Rhys came over. He didn’t have a choice, which
Arden knew. Arden lay on his back on the floor and waited for the sound of his door sliding open.

  “I’m over here!” he called when he heard it.

  Rhys approached. “You summoned me?”

  Arden grinned. “I did, didn’t I?”

  “Any particular reason?”

  “I wanted to see you. I haven’t seen you much.”

  “We’ve been busy,” Rhys reminded.

  Arden held out his hand.

  Rhys didn’t take it, but he sat beside him.

  Arden wiggled over and rested his head on Rhys’s lap. “Do you think everything will change tomorrow?”

  “Depends who wins. You have some pretty staunch centrists running. If Baker takes a seat, he’ll support your agenda, and—”

  “Do you ever relax?”

  “You asked me a question.”

  “But I wanted you to say, ‘yes, Arden, it will all be different.’ I wanted you to say…” He twisted and stared up at Rhys. “I wanted you to say, ‘it will be different thanks to you’ and I wanted you to smile when you said it.”

  “Is that why you’re doing this?” Rhys asked.

  Arden tittered. “You want me to say it’s all for you?”

  “I’d be worried if it was.”

  “I just don’t want Eden to fall apart. I want…I want this place to be what it should have been in the first place,” Arden confided. “I mean, Bex never…” He sighed. “When Bex called it Eden she meant it. Paradise. For people like her. Like me. And it was until, until, you know, the cracks started to show. Until the cost of paradise needed to be paid.”

  Rhys twisted a bit of Arden’s hair around his finger.

  “Do you want to stay tonight?”

  “I have—”

  “Work in the morning. I know. But we have the same work tomorrow, don’t we?”

  Rhys tilted his head.

  “I did think I should be there. It’s a historic occasion. An historic…a historic…” Arden nuzzled his face into Rhys’s lap. “We can go together. I mean…as, as Autarch and, uh…election official? Freedman? Advisor…as whatever you are. You know. A government thing, not a…a personal thing.”

  “Oh.”

  “It makes sense. First election for them. I should be there. Don’t you think?”

  “It makes sense,” Rhys agreed.

  “So stay tonight.”

  “Alright.”