by Mark Leidner
“You’re right. It is. You get to have everything.” Rxgr-14 gestured to himself. “Let me at least have this.”
“Let you mock me? Let you lord your paranoia over me as if it were proof of your intellect and not just a difference of opinion? I would prefer not.”
“Sorry,” Rxgr-14 said bitterly. He took a sip from the divot, then tilted his head accusingly. “Wait a minute. If you were all the way down by the throne room, how’d you get all the way outside without getting seen?”
“There’s a secret tunnel. A direct one.”
Rxgr-14 pounded the ground with his feeler. “I knew it!”
“It was well-made, too. Like one you’d have made. Smooth walls, tightly packed, and perfectly surfaced so that it just holds the light. And straighter than a snitch’s antenna.”
“I sure wish more soldiers gave a shit about surfacing. We’d face a lot less tunnel collapse.”
“I know. You’ve taught me that.”
“I’m sorry I called you a cliché just now,” Rxgr-14 said.
“It’s okay.” Lnzt-16 shrugged. “You know what? Maybe I am one.”
“You’re not.”
Lnzt-16 looked at his friend and said sincerely, “Thank you.”
“Are you going to see her again?”
“Szafair-2?”
Rxgr-14 nodded. “I mean, you can’t, can you? If the royal guard found out, you’d…”
Lnzt-16 silenced him with a nod and said, “We’re meeting tonight.”
“Tonight?” Rxgr-14 looked around. “Where? Here?”
Lnzt-16 shook his head. “Up by the dump. Later.” He smiled. “I’ve got to get hammered first.”
Rxgr-14 laughed. “You’re insane.”
“I wish you could meet her. When I showed her your tunnels, she asked how well I knew you.”
Rxgr-14’s eyes clicked several times in succession. “Really?”
“She might want someone new to oversee the secret passage. I got the feeling she had all these plans or something, clandestine plans, but who knows what for. It was like she was recruiting me, and asking about my friends. Anyway, I hope it’s okay that I mentioned you. Mainly your insights about the structure of the walls and stuff. She was into it. I’ll ask her about it tonight if you want. Who knows, maybe she could get you a sweet-ass gig.”
“Wow. Yes. That would be awesome.”
“What would?”
Rxgr-14 and Lnzt-16 turned around. Tzara-9 was standing behind them.
She smiled at Rxgr-14, and the dazzling hues of emerald in her compound eyes all changed as they caught the light.
“What would be awesome?” she asked again, cocking her head as she walked between them. She stepped right through the liquid in the divot and took her place on the other side.
She was still staring curiously, waiting for an answer, when Rxgr-14 looked at Lnzt-16 and said, “Uh, nothing.” He looked back at her. “Just work stuff. Boring, really.”
Tzara-9’s antennae twinged skeptically, then she shrugged and dropped her face into the trough of fluid she’d just walked through. Rxgr-14 watched the panels of her shiny, smoke-green exoskeleton shimmering and flexing as she swept the fermented unfertilized reproductive proteins into her mouth with greedy swishes of her bladelike mandibles. Tzara-9 drank with greater abandon than anyone Rxgr-14 had ever seen, and Rxgr-14’s most successful conversations with Tzara-9 involved him and her riffing back and forth on the infinite merits of drunkenness and the inglorious insufficiencies of sobriety.
Mid-slurp, Tzara-9 lifted her head and shook the amber droplets off her mandibles and smiled at them both. “Seriously, you two. What would be awesome?”
“Nothing,” said Lnzt-16 too quickly.
Tzara-9 furrowed her compound eyes at Lnzt-16. Now she knew something was up.
“Lnzt-16 got a promotion,” Rxgr-14 blurted.
Lnzt-16 looked at him.
“Really?” Tzara-9 said. “That’s amazing! Way to go, friend!” She grinned and clapped him on the back so hard that Lnzt-16 winced.
“Um, yeah,” said Lnzt-16, recovering. “But it’s really not that big a deal. It hasn’t even gone through yet. Might not even get it.” He lowered his head and added before he started slurping, “And I don’t want to jinx it by talking about it.”
Tzara-9 stared at him as if offended by the attempt to exclude her. Then she calmly lowered her aquiline head to the edge of the puddle and flicked the liquid vulgarly with the twin tips of her antennae, splashing Lnzt-16. Rxgr-14 practically gasped. Lnzt-16 looked up at her like she was a ghost. She smiled at him hard.
ONE’S ANTENNAE HOUSED ONE’S MEMORY and established a neural connection to every other consciousness in the colony. Every experience of every individual was encoded in coils of nerves within. This coiling, royal researchers had discovered, transmitted a two-way signal between every other member’s antennae. The network meant an individual’s private and social memories were unified in the psychology of the colony, but the network wasn’t always easy to access. Generally speaking, only the queen could experience these memories, and, although she was typically too busy to snoop through private memories one by one, a general feeling—anxiety, conspiracy, lust, murderous rage—could be felt by anyone whose antennae were functioning properly. Colonial lore was replete, therefore, with villains who’d escaped the influence of or even gained influence over higher authorities by modifying or otherwise tampering with their antennae. Some cut them off to forget trauma, or to disconnect from the colony before doing works of great evil. In the past, antennae loss had been seen as a sure sign of moral degeneracy, if not intentional heresy; recent attitudes, however, had liberalized. A damaged antenna was less and less an emblem of wickedness and more and more simply a risk to public health. Thus the rationale for culling the antennaeless had become more humane even if the result was the same. Many opposed the policy of quarantining and incarcerating or executing the abnormally antennaed, of course, arguing such workers and soldiers were perfectly capable of living normal lives; however, because most of this opposition came from older members of the colony whose antennae had been degraded by labor or combat or the passage of time, antennae reform was often seen by the mainstream as a way for has-beens to hang on and unduly shape colonial policy long after their relevance had lapsed. Infrequently, some members of the colony were permitted to live on in a state of partial or complete antennae loss, if they knew the right royal member or were seen as feeble enough to simply disregard. Other amputees fled the colony to live beyond its walls. They were then considered “bugs,” a catch-all slur usually reserved for rival species, particularly termites. But to put any antennae, even one’s own, at risk—for any reason—generally made others uncomfortable. Because antennae were a network, whenever any antenna was knocked, twisted, crushed, or otherwise twanged, there was a chance that another nearby would sense it. That Tzara-9 would risk breaking this taboo to goad Lnzt-16 was, in the eyes of Rxgr-14, half her charm. She was a total maniac, and Rxgr-14 idolized her willingness to shred the expectations of those around her, even as it made him feel uncomfortable, not to mention cowardly by comparison. Outwardly, at least, Lnzt-16 seemed to regard Tzara-9 as a lazy and unvigilant soldier, and he often accused her of getting by on brashness alone, which he had characterized as “all well and good… during peacetime” in those exact words so many times that the phrase was as maddening to Tzara-9 as mon frère was to Rxgr-14. For all his amorous and political adventurousness, Lnzt-16 was inflexibly hawkish on defense. Tzara-9 had more than once accused him of being a thoughtless playboy who’d goose-step to anyone who fluttered their wings, but, mostly, Rxgr-14 knew that Tzara-9 was as eager for Lnzt-16’s approval as she was likely to provoke him into sputtering defenses of the genteel machismo that was so obviously precious to him and so often preposterous to her and Rxgr-14. Rxgr-14 believed the three of them were friends because Lnzt-16 was too noble for his peers, Tzara-9 was too reckless and self-destructive for hers, and Rxgr-14 was t
oo neurotic and arrogant for his. His infatuation with her, especially, made tragic sense. He would’ve done anything to be more like either of them, but Lnzt-16’s chivalry, being so rooted in his warrior status, was unattainable for Rxgr-14. Tzara-9’s general truculence, by contrast, was a perspective possible for him to adopt, if only he’d had the courage. Rxgr-14 had a hunch, too, that Tzara-9 was just as nettled by her own neuroses as he was, but instead of employing internalization to deal with it, she vented it by provoking the world.
LNZT-16 DELIBERATELY WIPED THE UNFERTILIZED fermented reproductive proteins off his face, still shocked that Tzara-9 had abused her antennae. Ignoring him, Tzara-9 launched into an extended complaint about her workday. A fellow soldier had apparently chided her for arriving late to duty, which had been to guard the chamber where excess royal waste was stored before workers came and picked it up and distributed it throughout the colony, smashing it into the weakest tunnel walls.
“The fucking litter box?” she said. “Picture this idiot, okay, this unfucked errand boy with antennae straight as splinters, lecturing me on security protocols. I was like, Hello. It’s piss. Who’s gonna steal it?” She looked at Rxgr-14 and Lnzt-16 for validation, then, as if their validation mattered not a whit, she face-splashed into the puddle and guzzled some more.
“Actually,” Rxgr-14 said when she had resurfaced, “lots of soldiers don’t appreciate how vital waste recirculation is to tunnel surfac—”
“Oh, spare me. I know it’s important. I’m not saying it’s not important. But no one’s stealing it, got me?” She blinked at Rxgr-14. “So who cares if the solider guarding it is two seconds late. See what I’m saying?”
Rxgr-14 thought about it, then nodded. In a sense, she was right. “What’d you do?” he asked.
“Told him to fuck off,” Tzara-9 said.
Lnzt-16 scowled.
“And that I hoped one day someone got bored enough to interlock mandibles with him so maybe, I don’t know, he’d bend an antenna against a wall or something and have a free fucking thought for once in his life.”
During this speech, Tzara-9 had curled her antennae into a semi-circle, evoking a halo—historically, an impolite gesture indicating that one considered oneself the equivalent of a queen, but which had slipped into general acceptance, signifying self-congratulation.
“You should still arrive for duty on time,” Lnzt-16 said. “It makes us all look bad.”
“Who, you and him?” She pointed at Lnzt-16 with one antenna and Rxgr-14 with the other. “Or what—you speak for all soldiers now? What’re you, an ombudsman now?”
“You know what I mean,” he said.
“Maybe I don’t. Maybe you should to explain it to me. You’re a bona fide hero, after all. I came to your award ceremony. It must feel nice to get recognized for murdering an entire litter of millipedes. I heard they were defenseless and asking for refuge, but, I’m sure that’s just a rumor.”
“Hey, I was following orders. And you weren’t there. And what’s your problem anyway?”
“You tell me. Or are you not an expert on all my flaws?”
Rxgr-14 was looking back and forth between them, confused and anxious. “C’mon,” he said to Lnzt-16 in a conciliatory tone. “Maybe she’s got a point. Remember what you were saying? Like how we all just, you know, follow the rules too much?”
“I don’t remember what I was saying.”
Tzara-9 looked at the two of them, suspicious again, but instead of prying, she lowered her head and silently drank.
Watching her drink, Rxgr-14 realized Tzara-9 had possibly played them. By deliberately flaunting her soldierly negligence, she’d provoked Lnzt-16, which had caused Rxgr-14 to blurt out something he might otherwise have kept private.
When she lifted her head, Rxgr-14 tried to steer the conversation back to safety.
“It’s just crazy,” he said with forced amiability, “how different we all are.” He looked at them both. “You’re nothing like him. And you’re nothing like her. And neither of you is anything like that losery guard, or that bully, Eybv-99. Thank the queen, am I right? That we’re all different.” He laughed nervously. They both just stared at him. He looked around Avern-Y6. “There’s probably as many opinions on how to be a good soldier as there are soldiers in here. Kinda beautiful if you think about it.”
AVERN-Y6 WAS NOW WALL TO wall with shit-faced soldiers, some of whom were on top of the others, forming clusters of interlocked chaos around each divot and making it havoc for the workers who had to squeeze their way in between the bodies to refill the hole in the floor with fermented unfertilized reproductive protein. Beyond that, a low-grade restlessness pervaded the entire chamber. Rxgr-14 caught himself glancing at the ceiling, envisioning it caving in and killing everyone. He had no reason to believe a cave-in was imminent, but he couldn’t shake the thought that some dreadful event was verging.
When Tzara-9 was serenaded by a throng of drunken veterans near the center of Avern-Y6, she checked Lnzt-16 for a reaction. Rxgr-14 watched worriedly. When Lnzt-16 didn’t react, and the song increased in both compliment and insult, Tzara-9 encouraged the singers, seemingly tempted by the lewd buffet on offer. When the song ended, Tzara-9 said, “Hmm. Maybe I should go over there.”
“Wait,” Rxgr-14 blurted. “Don’t leave us.”
She looked at him pitifully. Then she stared at Lnzt-16—a dare of some sort.
Lnzt-16 met it. First, one of his antennae pointed to the group of soldiers, then his head swiveled to follow his antenna—an expression of sarcasm—as if his mind lagged behind his social awareness.
Finally, appraising her suitors with a scholarly countenance, Lnzt-16 declared, “Their mandibles look small enough.”
Tzara-9 grinned at the insult. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I guess it means go have fun with those small-mandibled bug-likers,” he said. “No one here is trying to stop you.”
“I am,” Rxgr-14 said, offering a desperate smile. “I thought we were having a good time.”
Tzara-9 frowned. “Sitting here talking about nothing?” She glanced over her shoulder. The other soldiers’ song had re-begun, this time a chant, and now everyone else was watching. This sort of euphoric taunting was commonplace at this time of night, and Tzara-9 was utterly unphased. In fact, as the soldiers formed a line thrusting their heads in a grotesque dance that implied that Tzara-9 ought to interlock mandibles with all of them in a row, she only smirked.
“At least they’re not afraid of a little fun,” she said, directing it at Lnzt-16.
Lnzt-16 pinched his mandibles together, barely constraining rage, then lowered his head and slurped in stoic silence. He slurped until there was almost nothing left of their puddle. Rxgr-14 and Tzara-9 watched him clumsily chase the last drop of ooze across the indentation in the floor with his gargantuan mandibles. It was so small, and his mandibles were so large, it looked absurd.
While he hated their passive-aggressive jabbing, Rxgr-14 feared that if they addressed their real feelings, he’d learn something he didn’t want to know.
His plan for the night had been to get drunk enough to unleash his wild side. Then he’d say something beautiful or funny and Tzara-9 would want to linger in his company when Avern-Y6 closed. By then, the booze would have muted his inhibitions. He’d be living the way she always seemed to, in the moment, and she’d finally appreciate their profound similarity. To the credit of the royals who brewed the intoxicating liquid from their unfermented reproductive proteins, Rxgr-14 genuinely believed this plan was wise even though it was the same plan he’d had every night for as long as he could remember, and it had never yielded a closer connection with Tzara-9.
Tzara-9 suddenly bent down and helped Lnzt-16 finish off the last droplet, surprising Rxgr-14. Then their mandibles touched, and Rxgr-14 became completely uncomfortable in his exoskeleton. There was nothing in the puddle anymore, but Lnzt-16 and Tzara-9 were both still scraping, sucking at nothing. Tzara-9 side-eyed Lnzt-16,
but Lnzt-16’s eyes were downcast. They seemed to both be pretending that they weren’t doing what they were obviously doing. Rxgr-14 knew then his plan was stupid, and he felt nauseous. He couldn’t name what he was feeling. Neither appreciated how lucky they were. They were both so beautiful and powerful and free, and he was trapped in his horrible little body with zero chance of happiness, ever. He’d never had a chance with Tzara-9. Not as long as she loved Lnzt-16, and Lnzt-16 seemed to have no love for her, yet he seemed adamant about shielding her from his dalliances. Why? It was a stalemate of innuendo and inaction, and a colossal waste of time and energy for all of them. Worst of all, Rxgr-14 was sick of feeling like a spectator in his own narrative.
The soldiers who’d bleated at Tzara-9 were bleating at everyone now and had climbed atop one other while rearing on their hindmost feelers, forming a tower four or five bodies high. Their collective figure resembled a giant soldier, wobbling, assembled from smaller ones. It was not uncommon for drunken, peacocking soldiers to work themselves into such formations. The coup de grâce was for two soldiers to hold onto the effigy’s “head” with their hind feelers and mime being its mandibles with their entire bodies, sometimes smashing or terrifying an unlucky worker. These particular soldiers’ efforts were, however, undermined by how drunk they were. Watching them thrusting and shouting while building up their rickety avatar, Rxgr-14 reflected bitterly on the arrogance and entitlement of soldiers in general, and what he believed would be their eventual takeover of the worker class. Then a bolt of insight shot through him. If soldiers could become workers, what if he tapped his own inner soldier. What could he do then?
“Tell us about your date with the royal,” Rxgr-14 said boldly to Lnzt-16.
Both friends’ sets of compound eyes beheld him, then Tzara-9 glanced at Lnzt-16.
Rxgr-14 looked at Lnzt-16, too, but with his right antenna he pointed at Tzara-9. “Maybe then we won’t be boring her.”
He smiled as if this was a private joke between him and Lnzt-16.
Lnzt-16 blinked at him, betrayed.
