The Other One

by Amanda Jay

  And with that he went back into his office and shut the door with a bang. Ioana and Bayou looked helplessly at each other.

  "Should we go out and search?" Felix asked.

  "Not just yet. Hopefully your father's right and she'll turn up soon. Don't you worry now." For once, Felix was comforted by her no-nonsense practicality. But even he knew, deep down, that his mother would never simply go wandering off into the city.

  Maybe she finally left him, a part of him rationalised. But would she have left you too? Felix didn't want to know the answer.

  OF HAPPINESS

  Happiness is a precious thing. Rare too. So precious and rare that people spend their entire lives searching for it. Most of them without luck. Because the trick of happiness is not searching for it, but letting it come to you. Or so I am told. It's easy enough for a happy person to tell you that.

  People think happiness is the most important thing in life. But I know better. The most important thing in life is the potential of happiness. Because unlike happiness itself, the potential of it can’t be diminished over time.

  Happiness is like water in cupped hands-- the harder you try to hold on, the faster it slips away.

  But potential? Potential is constant. Potential is my friend. But more importantly, it is my only hope.

  TOM

  He stormed all the way back to the attic, a full ten paces ahead of Skii.

  "Tom," Skii tried gently as she clambered in through the window.

  "Where is he?" Tom asked gruffly.

  "What?"

  "Felix. Where is he? We asked him to stay here, didn't we? Bet you that idiot ran off so he wouldn't have to pay us. I knew it." It had taken Tom less than a minute to do a full search of their attic.

  "Maybe he went outside for a bit."

  "No way. The dumb git's gone and done a runner. I can just feel it."

  "Come on, Tom. Look, I know this is hard for you--"

  "If that dimwit leads the City Guard to our home, I will kill him. I swear it on the Twin Faced God, I will."

  "Tom, can we please talk about what happened?"

  "Talk about what happened? You mean the fact that the man who is supposed to be my father is an even bigger git than my idiot brother. Oh wait, we don't even know if he's my brother, BECAUSE WE DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO, OR WHAT I AM!"

  "Tom!" He could see the anger in her eyes but it did little to change his mood. "What’s gotten into you?"

  "Nothing," he replied sullenly. The embarrassment of his outburst could already be felt on his ears. "It's just, harder than I thought. All this."

  "We've been through harder, you know that. Remember that one winter when I caught that flu, and you were convinced I was going to die? Remember your leg? Remember all those times we had to go hungry, or nearly froze to death, or didn't have even a candle when the lights went out? Those were hard days, Tom. This is just, it's just very, very confusing."

  She was right. She was always right.

  "I just, I can't stand him."

  "Why do you hate him so much?"

  "Why don’t you?"

  Skii’s expression softened a fraction. "Because he reminds me of someone I know."

  "I am NOTHING like him! Don't you dare..." the words caught in Tom's throat.

  "I'm asking again. Why do you hate him?"

  Tom sighed.

  "He stole from me, okay?"

  Skii was impassive. "Stole from you?"

  "Yes. Damn him. He stole my life. I should have had the things he had. I should have learned to read and write. I should have had a pair of legs that worked properly. And a family. I should have had a family." He didn't realise what he had said until he looked up at her.

  She had never needed to say anything for Tom to understand.

  "It’s not like that Skii. That’s not what I meant," Tom floundered, as Skii climbed onto the window ledge that she had climbed in through only moments ago. It had come out all wrong.

  "Skii, please listen to me," he pleaded, climbing out after her. They were on the rooftop of their building, with the whole of Mliss buzzing along beneath them. The Sky stretched endlessly on, with a few dark clouds rolling in in the distance.

  "So this is how it is, eh? Felix got his house and his books and you were stuck with me, right? I'm just some sort of... some sort of... punishment. Well if this is not good enough for you-- if I'M not good enough for you, then let's just find Felix and get you your money. Then you can finally be free of me and this horrible life."

  Her words cut him deep. He didn't know what to say. He just stood there, the guilt of what he said already bearing down on him like a thundercloud.

  "Before he showed up you were happy, weren’t you? We were happy. And now suddenly, none of this is enough?" She was softer this time, the sting in her words being replaced by something much, much worse.

  "Skii, it’s not that I was unhappy. I just..."

  "You just what?" He heard a sniffle. Tom hoped that she wasn't crying. Skii never cried. He felt infinitely guilty about what he had to say next, but he knew he had to. He respected her too much to not give her an explanation. Tom looked out on their clockwork city with its ticks and its tocks echoing through every corner. He looked at the wheels and the cogs brown with rust, and the cables that spun tireless along. Everything was falling apart.

  "There’s more, Skii. There’s more to life than being a replaceable cog in a failing machine. I don’t know what more, but I need to find out. Why do you think Felix makes me feel so useless? Because at least he knows himself. I don’t even know what I am. Do you know what that feels like? That everything about you, your core, that you have no idea where it comes from or what it is even."

  Skii turned towards Tom. Her lips were pressed together tightly and she looked beyond him, refusing to meet his eye. Tom felt gutted. He didn’t want to hurt her. Not when she meant more to him than he could ever say.

  "Skii, I’m sorry. I really am."

  "Shut up." Her voice was hard, her eyes reflecting the blue she was named after.

  "Don’t be like that, Skii." Tom reached for her, but she shook him off, reaching to her belt where she keeps her knife. It took him a tick longer than usual to realise she was staring at something behind him.

  He started to turn around but the look on Skii’s face told him he was already too late. He felt his hands grabbed behind him and a rough cloth pressed over his mouth and nose.

  "Skii! Run!" he tried to shout, but his words were muffled. In a moment, so was everything else, as Tom passed out.

  EZRA

  Unclench your fists. Take a deep breath. Shake out your nerves. You are fine. You can release that deep breath now. Don't forget to take another breath.

  But all the pep talks in the world didn’t help Ezra as he loitered outside the building, trying to muster up the courage to go inside.

  This is ridiculous, he thought to himself, again. All you are going to do is ask her for coffee. How hard could it be? Look at who you are married to? Surely, any other woman should be a walk in the park compared to Kaelyn. But he knew that it had less to do with what kind of woman he was asking for coffee, and more to do with the fact that he was going to ask her to assist him in committing what he was sure was some form of high treason.

  The Eyes of Mliss pointed to half past four. Ezra had to get a move on if he wanted to talk to Ethel before she finished her shift at five. He knew she usually left at five on the dot, because he would usually wait till after she had left to visit Professor Muriel.

  Taking a final deep breath, he fixed his gaze on his shoes, pushed the door open and walked firmly over to the reception desk. He didn't look up until he reached the reception-- he didn't want Ethel's withering stare to disarm him even before he got a chance to talk to her.

  But the eyes that greeted him from behind the desk were not Ethel's monocled, murky-brown ones, but honey-coloured, and comically enlarged behind a pair of oversized spectacles.

  "Can I help you?" the kindly look
ing girl behind the counter, to whom the eyes belonged, asked expectantly.

  "Ethel, is Ethel here?" Ezra stuttered, losing his footing.

  "Sorry, she stepped out for a moment. Will I be able to help you?"

  "Um, no. No, thank you." He turned on his heel to leave.

  "Ezra Orson, right? I can let her know you stopped by. Did you want to leave a message for Professor Muriel? I think he still may be in his office."

  Ezra turned back again and blinked.

  "How did you know?" The nerves had definitely gotten the better of him-- Ezra felt mildly dazed.

  The girl blushed heavily.

  "I'm in Kaelyn's accounting class. I didn't think you would remember, but she introduced me to you when you came to pick her up once. Of course, everyone in this building knows who you are anyways." The colour of her face only deepened to a ripe plum.

  "Oh, yes. How silly of me. How do you do?" he asked, weighing his choices. It wouldn't do to let anyone know that he was here to see Ethel. Much less one of Kay's friends. Who knew how that would be misinterpreted?

  "I'm fine, thank you. Like I said, I can tell Ethel you stopped by, or..."

  "You said the Professor was in his office? How strange, he's usually out by now. If he's in, I think I'll head up. I was hoping to leave a message for him with Ethel anyway."

  And with that, Ezra made a hasty retreat up the stairs. He supposed that now that he was here he could drop in on the Professor anyway. It had been a while since he had called on him.

  He could hear the familiar tap-tapping of his typographer as he approached, and something about the sound made him smile.

  "Come in!" the same, jolly voice called out when Ezra knocked on the door.

  "I hope I'm not disturbing you, professor. I was just in the area and I thought I'd pop by," Ezra said hesitantly, sticking just his head in the door. A part of him wished that Muriel was too busy to chat, and he could just leave. His nerves had still not settled, and less so now that he realised he would have to go through this whole process again the next day.

  But as he expected, he was in for no such luck.

  "Don't be ridiculous, my dear chap. It's always a pleasure to see my star student. Do come in!"

  There were more books and folders and sheafs of paper than ever, but Ezra was used to finding his way around the Professor’s office by now. It had become something of a second home to him in the early days, before he met Kaelyn. He had spent many a happy evening there, discussing theories and trying to come up with proof for his ideas. His visits had slowed down, and finally come to a standstill after he got married, but the professor seemed as happy to see him as ever.

  "Tell me, my boy," he started after Ezra had settled himself down, "how is your paper on Duplicity coming along? I've been positively dying to read it. I think of you whenever I tell the time."

  "Whenever you tell the time?"

  "The Eyes, my boy, the Eyes. The idea that two separate entities work together to create one whole."

  Ezra smiled.

  "It's coming along quite well, I think." This was only half a lie. Ezra had hardly been able to focus on his work after he learned of Onyx's plan, but he had gotten into the habit of waking up earlier than Kay to sit at his little desk and get some work done. His progress was slow, but progress was still progress right?

  "Fantastic? When can we hope to see it?"

  "Soon, I hope." It was a relative term anyway, he reasoned.

  "That's wonderful news, my dear Ezra. Absolutely wonderful news. You know, I had a few doubts when I learned of your quick marriage. Nothing to quite spoil the scientific mind like the flames of young love, if you do forgive me for saying. It's why I chose the bachelor life myself. And if I am to be honest, there have been a few moments lately that I've been rather worried for you."

  "Worried, sir?" Ezra wasn't sure that someone had been worried for him in a long, long time.

  "I don't want to overstep, my boy, I really don't. But something has been telling me that you have something on your mind. I know I'm an old codger, and I probably don't know what troubles you young fellows these days, but is there anything you want to talk to me about, perhaps?"

  Ezra swallowed.

  I've had nightmares about the look in Xuntak's eyes since I saw him. I want to be the kind of man that Kay deserves to be with. I'm scared. I'm so scared that I'm not who she thinks I am. I hate that I'm scared.

  But he just shook his head. "I've just had a lot of tough decisions to make lately, Professor. And I'm hoping that I've made the right ones."

  He didn't meet Professor Muriel's eye. The Chyranian, or Kay? Both their faces swam before him. He didn't want to, but he knew somewhere deep down that he was choosing one over the other.

  "Nonsense, my boy, nonsense. This is real life. There are no villains. No heroes either, as much as everyone fancies themselves to be one. There's just us, with all our faults and flaws. What is life, my boy, but an eclectic showcase of all the decisions we have ever made? And at least no one can ever say that we were afraid to make the hard choices, am I right?"

  Ezra wasn't so sure, but he found himself nodding along anyway. He thought about the plan he had with Onyx, about her "cause" as she kept calling it, about how he had been lying to Kaelyn, and he suddenly felt very much ashamed. What if Professor Muriel found out about all of this? He would be so disappointed. Ezra couldn't bear to think about what would happen if they were to get caught.

  "But that reminds me, old chap. There's something that I've been meaning to give you. It isn't quite a wedding present, but I do hope you will have use for it, all the same." Muriel had jumped off his chair and ducked around a pile of books to a shelf at the back of the room. Once there, he clambered onto another pile of books, and pulled out a heavy looking leather case.

  "A little help, my boy," he panted, and Era quickly crossed the room to give him a hand.

  "This is for you," Muriel wheezed, climbing back onto his chair and leaning back.

  Ezra looked over the case curiously. There were gold letters stamped onto the side-- J. R. Muriel.

  He pushed the clasp open, and the top flap opened to reveal a typographer very similar to Professor Muriel's.

  "Professor, I can't accept this," Ezra exclaimed.

  "And why in the world not? Every great mind needs a way to record his thoughts. Trust me, dear boy, with a mind like yours, this machine will be worth a lot of money one day. And not just because it was my very first typographer either."

  Ezra swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to chose his next words wisely.

  "Thank you," was all he managed. But the Professor seemed to understand.

  "Go make me proud, dear boy. Go make us all proud."

  Ezra was still in a daze as he climbed back down the stairs a quarter of an hour later. The reception area seemed empty, and he sat down on the last step. Like Kay had told him to, he took a deep breath and tried to gather his thoughts. Why was he feeling so emotional? It was a typographer, a beautiful and, no doubt, expensive machine, yes, so why did it fill him with a happiness and dread and so much anxiety at once?

  "What are you doing there? The offices will be closed soon," a bored voice drawled out, shaking him out of his thoughts. Ezra jumped back up to his feet. He was so preoccupied that he didn't realise that Ethel was back at her usual seat behind the reception desk.

  "Sorry, I just, lost my footing," Ezra offered weakly, but Ethel didn't seem to notice.

  "Oh, Ezra Orson, it's you," she called out cheerily.

  "Um, yes. Hello." Since when was Ethel ever cheery?

  "Come to see Professor Muriel, did you? Haven't seen you around here in a while."

  "Um, yes. I did." He made his way over to her desk.

  "Congratulations, by the way. I heard about the wedding. I must say, I was quite surprised." She leaned over the desk with her chin resting on her arm and gave a little flick of her frizzy hair. "Most of us didn't even realise that you were off the market. What a
shame." She giggled softly.

  Wait a second, thought Ezra. She couldn't be flirting with him, could she?

  Maybe it was the nerves, or the lightheaded feeling, or who knew what else, that had Ezra replying back--

  "A shame, indeed."

  Ethel giggled again as Ezra wondered where on earth those words came from.

  "Of course, who could blame you. With a beauty like Kaelyn? I mean, every gentlemen in Mliss wants her, and she picks you. She must have a good eye for talent." She leaned in even closer, and fluttered her eyelashes in a pronounced way that left Ezra thinking of a decapitated moth.

  Confused, and ever so slightly grossed out as he was, he reckoned he should make use of this moment. He gripped the handle of the typographer case and came to a difficult decision.

  "Actually, Ethel. There is something I've been meaning to talk to you about. It's quite a, um, delicate matter."

  "Oh?" Her eyes were sparkling with interest.

  "Well, it wouldn't be a good idea to discuss it here. Could we perhaps, meet for coffee? Tomorrow, after your shift?"

  "Coffee?" The the word rolled off her tongue like something tantalising. "Of course. I would love to meet for coffee."

  She's making this out to be more than it is, the warning voice called out in Ezra's head. But still, she was agreeing to meet him, and that's what they needed right? Perhaps with this change in attitude, she would agree to help them?

  But no matter what he did to rationalise his thoughts, he couldn't shake off the dirty feeling that was now firmly lodged in the pit of his stomach on his way home.

  FELIX

  "So, when was the last time you saw her?" Captain Tatum asked, scratching his prickly ginger beard. Felix eyed the stubby mess, fascinated by the various scars that the beard was probably tasked with hiding. It did a poor job though, and Felix could clearly see the various pockmarks even in the dim light of the City Guard station.

  "The day before. I think." Felix's voice sounded weak and childish.