We should be able to tell the difference based on how strongly the keening reacts.
“Okay, right, great. Um, but what if some other piece of keening gets hurt that has nothing to do with me?”
Keening reaches toward whatever piece is in distress. Kind of like how if I punch you in the stomach—he mimes punching me in the stomach—you’ll ball toward the injury. We should know if you’re the one in trouble based on your location.
“All right.” I’m trying to get behind this, but the idea that a little piece of wet lint fungus is going to act as my lifeline isn’t exactly winning me over. “What if I’m searched and they find the keening in my pocket?”
It just looks like a bit of dander.Jester shrugs.Most people won’t have any idea what it really is.
“Is there—?” I don’t know how to say this delicately. “Is there really no way to use, you know, technology to connect us?”
Technology isn’t always the solution.Jester looks reproachful.This is the best option we’ve got.
And so, without much other choice, I put the keening in my pocket.
It’s almost two in the morning by the time we head to bed. Though I’d like to spend these final hours going over the plan, Vera points out that it’ll be worthless if tomorrow I’m too tired to function. As a group, we meander back to the residence hallway and bid each other good night.
Vera pauses by my door and, seemingly on impulse, pulls me into a swift, fierce hug. “You’re going to be fine.”
“Yeah,” I say, hugging her back.
“If you change your mind.” She draws away. “At any point. Or if something goes wrong…”
“It won’t.”
“We’ll come for you. I know The Parallax is supposed to be impenetrable, but we’ll find a way. Do you hear me? We’ll be nearby the entire time, monitoring the keening and waiting for a signal. Once you’re on The Parallax,you’ll be by yourself, but you won’t be alone.”
“I—” My eyes prick without warning. I pull her in for another hug, resting my cheek against her mane of hair. “Thanks, Vera. You’ve no idea what that means to me.”
We give each other a final watery smile and say good night. I wait until Vera is shut safely in her room before sloping toward my own quarters. I’ve barely taken three steps before my eyes find their way to Lament’s door.
I should go to bed. Get my sleep, let him get his. But that feels cowardly. And we agreed to be honest with each other. And Lament deserves better. So off my feet take me, down the hall and up to his door.
My first knock is quiet, a barely audibletap tap tap. After pausing for what I hazard is an acceptable response time threshold, I tell myself to stop being chicken and try again, an aggressiveratatatthat, I reflect, will not only announce my presence to Lament, but the rest of the detachment and possibly all of Skyhub.
I shove my hands into my pockets as I wait, but there’s still no answer. So maybe Lament is asleep, maybe his headphones are in, maybe…
“Lament?” My hand is on the knob. “I know you’re in there.” Still no reply. “All right, I’m coming in.”
I step inside to find Lament sitting on his couch in semidarkness. His shoes are off, socks scrunched down to his ankles. There’s a single lamp casting orange light around the room and a tumbler of brown liquid on the table beside him.
He looks up at my arrival, then away. “It’s rude to enter uninvited.”
“It’s rude to ignore your partner when they knock.”
“Maybe I don’t want company.”
“Then say,Gee, Keller, I don’t want company.”
He uncrosses his legs, only to recross them in the other direction. “Is there something you need?”
“You’re being a jerk, which means you’re upset.”
“If you’ve come to apologize, you’re off to a great start.”
I move to sit on the couch beside him, half expecting him to up and leave. But he doesn’t. Just picks up his glass and takes a sip.
“Is that whiskey?”
