Universal Chemistry

by Li Hill

  "Pigs can't consent, you idiot," Tom whispered.

  Tom scooted closer to the TV, munching on his popcorn. He walked the line of an imperfect man. His reasons for even talking to Iilo had been self-interested at first—all that guilt he'd carried. Still carried. He'd make it up to Iilo. It didn't matter that possibly Iilo wasn't the person he'd marry, but Iilo deserved to marry anyone he wanted. I'na or human. Tom would fight for that.

  The door opened. Tom had long since stopped caring about locking it during the day. Carlos, Sam, Inaraa, and Letic filtered into the room. Sporting red noses and jackets, they brought along with them a gust of chilly air that tickled Tom's spine. Carlos moved over to the corner of the room and peeled his jacket off to hang up. Letic and Inaraa followed suit. Fall had taken root, it seemed.

  "Hey, Amigocho," Carlos said. "Think that's close enough to the TV?"

  "Oh." Tom scooted back to an acceptable distance. He scratched at his stubble, distantly thinking it was high time for a shave. He'd skipped a few days out of sheer laziness.

  "Human-I'na marriage?" Letic turned up the volume. "Something you no telling us?"

  "I think that'd be great." Inaraa laughed, tying up her braids into a high pony. "Are you really considering it?" Tom wouldn't deny how great it felt that Inaraa would give her blessing. Her judgment was unwavering, an all-knowing eye that could figure out the soul before it got a chance. To know she'd be okay with it—Tom was both astonished at how quickly they all assumed he'd move that quickly, but flattered nonetheless.

  "That's not it. I mean, we're still learning about each other. This is just—I'm just pissed."

  "Why?" Iilo said as he came into the house. He was bundled up like the others. His mouth and nose were blocked by a crocheted scarf, ears dusted pink. His ID bounced light off the walls, a private lightshow only for those in the room. It was like the cold had pissed it off enough to try to give Iilo warmth when the Earth around them wouldn't.

  "You're people. This is like interracial marriage all over again. It's stupid. People fall in love, and then they're deprived of each other all because some rich phobic bastard in Congress thinks that's how he wins votes. Each year we think America gets a little better and then it takes a giant step back. We did away with the two-party system and we're still dealing with this bullshit! It's like we're stuck in some kind of bubble."

  "Welcome back, Tom." Sam pat his head before going to put her scarf on the coat rack.

  Tom rolled his eyes. "I'm angry at the world, man!"

  "I like you angry at the world," Inaraa said. She sat beside Tom, taking his hands in hers. A chill spread from the tips of her fingers into his. Tom hadn't spent much time with Inaraa, but her welcoming behavior made it feel like he'd known her far more than he did. The I'na weren't concerned with structural relationships the way humans were. A people who had to live in the present, uncertain of their future, of course they didn't care about talks of marriage or touching too soon. They never knew if they'd have a tomorrow.

  "I care about you all," he said, "and I want you to have the same rights and privileges I have."

  "Thank you." Inaraa squeezed Tom's hand before standing up.

  "I've compiled some notes," Iilo began. "Carlos and Sam managed to talk to the I'na in Cincinnati. I think I've got a new theory." He sat down, pulling out a piece of paper. He'd doodled little figures and maps that all were pointing at Seward in a plethora of colors.

  Tom smiled, enjoying Iilo's need for tangible understanding. He hadn't seen Inaraa or Letic act the same, so he was certain it was just an Iilo thing. He thought back to Iilo when he'd held a box close to him, full of missing I'na, and to the day he'd laid out all his collected evidence and stared at it all. Tom bubbled with pride at the passion Iilo exuded. He leaned over, kissing Iilo on the cheek, because if he hadn't, he would've exploded.

  Iilo smirked, his eyes glowing a soft amber hue.

  "Ever since the Elect banned you, we've had more people showing up. They go to certain I'na and then leave."

  "I've got a list of names ready to go for Agent Parker," Inaraa said. "By the skin of my teeth, I'm still on that damn Elect."

  "How say, voice of reason?" Letic cocked his head his eyebrows only minimally judgmental today.

  "Aw, how cute, you're trying so hard." Tom teased.

  Letic's brow rose high, a perfect arch on his bald head. He pretended to snarl, but there was a smirk at the corner of his lips.

  "Anyway," Iilo said. "I talked to some of my people. A few humans were taking blood samples from them. It didn't sound like they had much of a choice." His shoulders deflated. Regret paled his skin. Iilo felt he had to carry this burden alone, even if surrounded by people who were willing to help.

  Tom reached out and squeezed his shoulder, a supportive smile on his lips, but Iilo just shrugged him away. It hurt, that small slice of rejection. He knew it had nothing to do with their relationship, but watching Iilo grow distant was like being in a room slowly filling with water. Tom could only take so much before he began to drown in anxiety.

  The three I'na shared a silent conversation, spoken through pleading brows and fidgeting, silent lips. Eventually, Inaraa sighed, pinching her brow.

  "Our blood's corrosive," Inaraa said to Sam and Carlos. "Whoever is doing this knows that, and they're taking extreme caution. Not just biopsies down in Atlanta anymore. Full-on blood samples, and then we lost a boy this morning." She clenched her fists. "Scou'luu'nae's already pulled his photo from the registry. The other Elect are starting to get worried. They've even let our police begin working with the FBI. Iilo said you've got a woman at the Center who can identify this guy. If we get that, we can prove something's going on at the settlement. Maybe see some reform. I don't trust Scou'luu'nae anymore."

  Silence filled the room. Tom looked at Carlos and Sam. Carlos's mouth was open, eyes wide. All he'd knew was what their superiors told them in First Contact. Tom watched the revelation melting on his face like ice in the sun.

  Sam's face was blank, but Tom knew her better than that. She was deep in her head, connecting dots and drawing patterns.

  "Dios mío. No close contact," Carlos said. "Now I get why."

  "We have to always wear rubber gloves and masks when working with the I'na at the shelter." Sam frowned. "I thought it was just because our bodies are still getting used to each other's bacteria and pathogens."

  The I'na in the room held their heads low. Iilo had shrunk into Tom's side, his face pressed to Tom's shoulder. It was like they didn't trust Carlos or Sam to just accept it. Like they'd fear them. Out of the whole world, Carlos and Sam were the last people they needed to fear. This only showed how terrified the I'na were. The world didn't need to fear them, but children played rough, and all it took was one human child with an I'na on the swing set and that was it. It was a miracle it hadn't happened already. Or it had, and the government had been quick to act. Tom wished he could know what game his government was playing with this.

  The room was unbearably hot. Tom shifted, not wanting to pry away from Iilo, but he needed to breathe without suffocating. Agent Parker was their best ally, but Inaraa winning favor with the other Elect could save another I'na before any more went missing.

  "We need that picture," Sam said. "Plain and simple." She scoffed, her face hardening. "But I work there. Why hasn't this been brought to my attention?"

  "Nenen said she didn't want to give it up till she got some medicine," Tom answered. "I don't fault her for wanting to survive."

  Sam stayed silent, her arms crossed.

  "We need to protect the I'na," Tom said, looking up at her. "If any more go missing, that's on us. We know this is happening. We know we're the only ones that can stop it. FBI have to deal with rules. We don't."

  "But we're blacklisted, man," Carlos said.

  Tom rolled up his sleeves in an attempt to stave off the heat flushing through him. It was anger. Anger because someone knew and had used the I'na's shame for something they couldn't contr
ol. This person knew, and they'd unleash hell because, what? Money? Anarchy? Power?

  Tom looked up at a light in the corner of the room. Behind it were pictures of his family. His sister Emily, stared at him, her eyes twinkling with the flash of the camera. She wouldn't want him to shy away from something that felt so deep. His father, who'd only wanted to give his children whatever he could, he'd tell Tom to jump in and fight. His ma, she had been the toughest one until she died. He'd grown up with a family of fighters. Tom would stand beside the I'na to make sure none were taken ever again. The world wasn't ready for this secret. It still had healing to do. Acceptance to find.

  "We need to convince them to listen to us," Tom finally said.

  Tom had spent a great deal of his time after the army running. He'd run from his sister's death. He'd run from his anxieties and fears. He'd buried his head in the sand in a desperate attempt to pretend nothing was wrong when the walls were crumbling around him. This situation with the I'na wasn't small, and it was definitely a problem.

  But Tom was done running.

  "They have to," Inaraa said, slamming her hand down. "Our people are so afraid of this. The Elect don't know if these people are dead, yet they assume they are. I'm done waiting and playing by Scou'luu'nae's rules."

  "Hot." Letic said with a whistle.

  "Ew." Iilo scrunched up his nose.

  "It's time I take our mother's place, Iilo. We have to save them." Inaraa reached out, grabbing Iilo's hand. They rested their exoskulls together, eyes closed. Their IDs glowed red.

  "I knew you'd do it one day," Iilo whispered.

  Sam and Carlos both turned to Tom, their faces scrunched up in confusion.

  Everyone went silent enough to remind Tom he'd left the TV on. He turned around, rolling his eyes as someone for some coalition of marriage was shouting at the camera why I'na weren't good enough to marry. He shut it off, turning back.

  Iilo's eyes were watery and dim, and Inaraa's much the same.

  "Sam, Carlos. Can I see you two in the kitchen?" Tom started walking.

  The kitchen had too many lights that Tom could never figure out. He flipped on one, realizing it wasn't the one he wanted and then another, then another. The lights above the island turned on, yellow and soft. He'd purchased the house for this kitchen. Granite counters sparkled in pristine condition—mostly because Tom was a stickler for cleanliness. It was one of many lingering effects of the military. He pulled himself up to sit on the counter, sighing.

  "Their mom a queen?" Carlos whispered.

  "She was their leader when they'd found Earth. She was the one who got shot and sparked hostilities at First Contact."

  "Holy shit." Sam leaned against the counter, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. "So, they feel this is their responsibility? Saving everyone?"

  "I think so. Iilo mentioned their cultures and how he didn't want them disappearing. They'd—they lost a lot when they left their planet." Tom wasn't sure how much his friends knew, but nothing could compare to the horror Tom felt when Iilo regaled the story to Tom. Losing whole countries, languages, art, histories. The devastation left Tom numb.

  "Their people really should do something. It can't just be the three of them." Carlos opened the refrigerator to grab a soda. He popped it open, tipped his chin back, and drained half of it. "At least their police are helping now."

  "They need to get the Heart out of the way," Sam said. "I think she's in on whatever's going on."

  "I don't think you're wrong," Tom said. "Maybe we should gear up for a bug out? We can watch the I'na even if they don't know we're there if it comes to it."

  "It's so cold out though," Carlos said, wincing. "I mean, yeah. Absolutely. Fuck."

  Sam laughed, slapping him on the back. "We can snuggle." She waggled her brows.

  "Ah, yeesh! Cooties." Carlos flicked Sam on the shoulder before peering into the other room.

  "I hope this meeting with the Elect goes well when Inaraa tries to take over." Sam smooshed her lips together. "I mean, that's what's gonna happen, right? Girl's taking right the fuck over."

  "She's got my vote," Tom said.

  Chapter Twenty

  Autumn had a way of teasing Tom. It turned the leaves into gentle fires burning amidst the world. The crisp scent placated his soul, soothing fears if only for a moment. But it also brought frost and nights where Tom's breath swirled before his eyes. His fingers were almost numb on his walk from his office to his car. His ears prickled, body clenching as it became acutely aware someone was following him. He turned to see a car pull up by him. Shiny and white.

  "Hey, wanna hang out a bit? I need to talk to someone." Caleb sat in his perfect car, all leather seats and bad choices. It was easy to forget that despite all the gadgets, he was just as fucked up as Tom was.

  "Where've you been?" Tom asked.

  "I got called away for work. I fly all over the country, man. Get in!"

  "My car—"

  "We'll get it later, okay? Promise."

  Tom walked to the other side, grateful to be in the warmth instead of out in autumn's taunting game. He pushed his hands over the vents, sinking into the leather seat.

  "It's a heated seat too."

  "Oh, that's magical. You drive your car?"

  "Hell yeah I do. I like to feel the engine purr beneath my feet." Caleb stepped on the gas for emphasis. The car didn't just purr, it roared. The vibrations sank into Tom's body and he let himself mold into the heat and leather.

  They drove in silence, escaping Seward's smooshed brick buildings. They were like eager children before an ice cream truck—frantic to put themselves in the front. Cobblestone turned to pavement, and lanes went from two to one.

  Tom's eyes were heavy. He fought sleep, dozing off and on. It never occurred to him how far they'd gotten away from Seward until he woke from one of his micro-naps. Stars blanketed the sky, showering little warmth on cool ground. Stars reminded him of Iilo's freckles. He turned in his seat and asked, "Where are we?"

  "I've got a cabin out here. It's nice usually, but I didn't wanna be alone." Caleb kept his voice down. An admission he didn't want to give. He'd spent his whole life pretending to be happy when he never was. How long had he suffered in silence?

  Tom understood better than most. Being alone with his own mind was sometimes more frightening than a home full of ghosts. He stretched, pushing his palms into the glovebox until his spine popped. "Oh man, I didn't realize how exhausted I was."

  "You've been busy, yeah? With Iilo?"

  Tiny hands tickled the inside of Tom's stomach. He smiled, heat on his cheeks that he was certain wasn't from the vents. He'd become so smitten. He'd crashed into this with Iilo and hadn't looked back. "Y-yeah. I guess so."

  "You guess?" Caleb snorted. "Where's the enthusiasm? I'na are hot."

  "That's not the only reason I like him. I wish you wouldn't say that."

  "Relax, I'm kidding." Caleb pulled off the main road onto a bumpy dirt pathway. The car stumbled, determined to drive over fallen tree branches and potholes.

  In its determination, Tom felt like a bug in a jar held by a child. He shook and bumped up against the window more times than his head was content with. When they finally parked, he could feel his muscles relaxing for a quiet moment against the leather seats before he lurched up and followed Caleb to the cabin.

  Old wood cracked and peeled along the cabin's siding. The roof was shrouded by branches full of drying leaves. It was the type of cabin that saw so much love. Used and worn in a warm, welcoming way. In the night, Tom couldn't see the leaves' colors, but when the wind blew, they moved in stilted flicks. A yellow glow came from a window, its light pouring out into the darkness when Caleb opened the door. The house greeted them. It'd been waiting.

  "This is so—" Tom didn't get to finish his sentence before Caleb turned to him.

  "Small? Run-down? Weird? I like it." He looked down, biting his lip. "I know I've got a lot of gadgets now, but at heart I'm still just a guy from Oregon
. Nature's gonna win out every time for me."

  "I forgot you were from Oregon. Shit's crazy that we found you here. Or, well, you found us."

  Inside, Caleb turned on the overhead chandelier. It sported antlers that Tom assumed were probably real, knowing Caleb. The lights flickered like they were candles, dancing in their transparent bulbs. The walls were stained wood, flicks of red flirted with yellows where the staining was richer. Tom smiled, looking at all the plaid furniture. This was a cabin someone lived in. It wasn't for show. It wasn't meticulous or well-designed. It was cozy, cherished, and everything Caleb wanted to be.

  "Wow. This is—not your Lexus."

  Caleb laughed, giving Tom a soft nudge with his shoulder. "Dad was a plaid man. I just wanted something that would remind me of him."

  "You lost your dad? Oh shit, I didn't know."

  Caleb sat on the sofa, moving a throw pillow to the corner before leaning against it. "I never said anything. Don't worry about it." He hadn't said anything about it. He'd always been there, smiling and cracking jokes when the world blew itself up. Not once had he told anyone about his own suffering.

  Tom's stomach coiled in. He wanted to say something kind, a gentle comment to sooth the ache on his friend's face. Caleb looked hollow, cheekbones casting stark shadows along his face. He'd crumpled himself up on the couch, picking at a thread. Tom didn't suppose most people saw this side of Caleb. Tom wasn't even sure why he got to.

  Tom sat on the rocking chair by the fireplace, staring at the craftsmanship. Bulbous rocks jutted from the fireplace, tucked in only by grout. It was humble, and Tom wondered if Caleb's father had built it himself.

  "I'na killed him."

  Tom had seen a man get shot before. He remembered his face, sheet white with features blown wide—eyes, mouth, nostrils. The man had said it felt like being dipped in ice water. That's exactly how Tom felt now. A bullet had pierced his heart and he sat, fumbling in the cabin to find a way to speak before it was too late.