“Unknown,” he said.
“There’s not an English translation?”
“No, I mean thatisthe translation. Ξ.A.kr’ξ??’p. It means unknown, or unknowable. A person whose personality and fate are not predictable.”
“That isn’t so bad. At least it doesn’t mean like, turnip or something.”
“Is this what ‘Jude’ means?”
“No, Jude does not mean turnip.”
“Oh.” Al shook his head. “In my culture, it is not favorable to be a mystery. We assume the personalities of children when they are very young, and name them based on the strengths we believe they will exhibit. My name suggests that they could not tell what my strengths would be—or if I would have any at all.” He said again, almost to himself, “Unknown.”
They had reached the engineering building and were standing at the base of the short stack of stairs that led to its glass-doored entrance. Al looked down at his feet, suddenly feeling embarrassment. He hadn’t needed to tell Jude that. He was never going to know Al’s mother tongue, and never would have known just how low his parents’ expectations had been of him since birth.
Distracted as he was by his thoughts, Al startled when Jude reached out and gently lifted his chin up with the tips of two of his fingers. Al let himself be guided until the two of them were making eye contact, at which time Jude smiled kindly at him, and Al felt warm in a way that had nothing to do with the heat.
“I don’t think you’re unknowable,” Jude said in a near-whisper. There were others around them, but even still, the moment felt charged and private. “I think you’re whip-smart, and hilarious, and sweet. I think you’re brave. I don’t care where you’re from, or how much traveling experience you have—it takes a fuckton of bravery to end up somewhere completely foreign to you and still somehow manage to thrive. If your parents are disappointed in you instead of proud, then that’s their problem, but that doesn’t make you any less deserving of praise.” Jude swallowed, and added, even quieter, “I’mproud of you.”
A shiver ran through Al then, which made no sense, as he was not cold. If anything, he was hot. His cheeks were warmer than usual, and his heart was beating rapidly, pounding as though the affection he felt for Jude in that moment was so great, it was physically taxing to contain it all.
And perhaps it was.
He couldn’t be sure, as he had no precedence.
The truth was that what Jude had said just then were some of the kindest words that had ever been spoken to him.
With the weight of all that love inside of him, Al took hold of Jude’s hand. He said, very seriously, “I need you to know that I will not make expectations like this for our offspring. I will let them decide what they feel desire to do with their lives. Their names will not determine their personalities. That will all be up to them, I promise.”
Seemingly unaware he was doing it, Jude lightly rubbed his belly.
“You’ll be a good father, Al,” he whispered. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on the corner of Al’s lip, causing Al to feel a sudden desire to cry. He only just refrained from saying it aloud, but thought in his head very, very loudly:
I’d be a better father with you.
* * *
“I… I didn’t expect it to look so much like an actual phone,” Jude said as they stood in the lab part of a large classroom where Al had been stashing his communication device in a drawer. It had been the most inconspicuous place he could find in which to store his project—the room was shared between two professors who seldom used it, and was cleaned every other night by a janitor who did not do his job well or meticulously whatsoever. Al had spent a few days surveying it, making sure it would suit his needs, then had secured one of its cabinet drawers in the very back by sticking a note on it that read “SPIDERS,” because he had noticed that a high percentage of humans were afraid of spiders, and figured it would deter students and staff alike from looking inside.
As far as he knew, his assumption had been correct—nobody had touched the drawer.
“What did you expect it to look like?” Al asked, frowning at Jude. He was holding the communication device prototype in his hands, torn between being extremely gentle with it, and “accidentally” hurling it onto the ground, thus putting off his conversation with his parents indefinitely.
“I dunno.” Jude shrugged. “I’d been picturing a giant metal monstrosity that shoots sound waves through space and time or something.”
Al blinked at Jude.
“That is not a practical assumption,” he informed him.
Jude appeared to feel unbothered. “Yeah, well, you asked. That thing is dinky, though. How’s an itty-bitty rectangle with computer bits shoved inside gonna be able to call your home planet?”
“You are aware thatyourcommunication device is a ‘rectangle with computer bits shoved inside it,’ yes?” Al felt deep, desperate love for Jude, but the man was not always the most astute.
“Whatever. So, what’s the last piece to the puzzle? How do we make this thing tick?”
“Everything should be in working order.” Al walked over to one of the lab tables and set his communication device down gingerly. “At this point, the only thing yet to be installed is a power source.”
“Ah, I see. So what kind of material do you need for that? Some kind of superpowered special crystal like inStar Trek?”
