“They’re quite all right,” Iris assured her, sleeve still pressed against his jaw. “I had some and survived the night, if that’s worth anything.”
Riyu just laughed. “You’re a funny monk,” she called out over her shoulder as the featherlight patter of her feet disappeared down the corridor.
“Are we still bleeding?”
Only a little.
Iris pulled his sleeve from his jaw. The cut still stung, enough to notice, but not enough to tend to. The sleeve of his robe, however, was completely ruined. Fresh blood would sooncurdle, brown, and become impossible to wash out. He undid the knot at his waist and peeled the fabric from his shoulders and his back, avoiding his still-bleeding neck. Getting one stain out was work enough.
With his robes pooled on the ground, Iris traced his fingers along his ribcage, counting each rib with waning interest. He had been purposely neglecting food again for weeks now, leaving bites of it untouched and whole meals avoided altogether. It was a practice he couldn’t help, an obsessive one, especially at the temple, where any and all restraint was encouraged, if not revered. All of it in vain, now that he had binged on sandwiches and fruit.
This compulsion had followed him from his youth, the only secret he held private when nothing at all about him was private. He wasn’t sure when it had started. He couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t torn between overindulgence and extreme asceticism, between committing himself completely to the Starlit practice and finding cracks in it for him to escape through. During his most pronounced episodes, he’d eliminate his food intake completely. He’d meditate for twelve hours a day, surviving on nothing but reserved sips of tea. He would retreat further and further into the caverns of his mind where even VIFAI couldn’t reach him, where nothing could reach him.
But then, ignoring his demands for privacy, Bacai would rudely barge in with stolen peaches from the orchard, or worse yet, some strange dessert she’d picked up on her latest assignment. She’d make a show of savouring it before his starving eyes, and Iris would give in and stumble, because no matter how cavernous the corners of his mind, he still had a sweet tooth, and Bacai was annoyingly persistent.
And then summons would arrive from Primary Temple, and Iris would rush to serve. He would devour whatever food was offered to him, savour every crumb, and become intoxicated by any delicacies available. He would drink juices and even sometimes partake of alcohol when no one was there to witness his transgressions. And now there were sandwiches withham,coffee, and real apples to sink his teeth into. There were scholars and engineers, and hundreds of mouthwatering distractions around every corner. No degree of discipline would save him.
He was no longer an idle watcher of the tapestry of life unfolding before him, but rather a hesitant thread running through its very middle. Iris had inadvertently become enmeshed in the lives of these people who were very deliberately pulling him deeper in still. It was an alluring tug to be once again part of a moving, breathing community of ordinary people with ordinary rules. It was a blessing to be invited in from the cold.
Rushing, Iris pulled a fresh set of robes from his duffel bag and finished changing. The cut had stopped bleeding, finally, thankfully. The clean, high collar sat just below his sharp jawline, free of stubble. Reflecting on the rising rumbling in his stomach, Iris asked VIFAI, knowing that it had kept a close eye on his thoughts,Do you think I lack faith? Discipline?
I think you’re not done with this life, nor is it finished with you.
A gentle yet firm response. Iris wondered if today would be a day free of quarrels with his inorganic companion. Spirits marginally lifted by clean robes, Iris left the cargo bay to snag some coffee and whatever it was the academics had brought with them for breakfast. If he were to falter in his convictions, he would at least do it on a full stomach. Loud voices echoed far down the corridor, and Iris could clearly make out the words even halfway down.
“This is a priceless archaeological artifact,” Ishtan’s voice rang out. “It belongs to the archaeology department. That’s final. I will not be taking questions.”
Riyu’s crystalline laughter cut through the last sentence. “You’re going to claim a generation ship for yourdepartment, Ishtan? Isn’t it a little too big? Where are you going to put it?”
Iris pressed his back against the mossy wall, a shoulder-width away from the doorway and listened, his mouth watering. Scents of fresh coffee, bold and bitter, wafted through the entrance, beckoning him inside.
“I’d like to remind everyone that the ship falls under Doshua Station jurisdiction,” a voice Iris didn’t recognise said. “Our gate, our ship. You’re all here on a permit and nothing more.”
“You’rehere on a permit,” Jesi mocked in a high-pitched tone.
“And you only have a job because we have this permit,” Tev added. “And anyway, no one can lay claim to a generation ship. It belongs … well, it belongs to the galaxy.” Everyone groaned in unison and continued to argue ship ownership. Meanwhile, Iris pushed away from the wall and tiptoed in behind the group, hoping he would go unnoticed in the commotion. He was within arm’s reach of the coffee pot when a grating voice called out above the chattering.
“Cut yourself shaving, Vessel?”
Iris froze and gave a little bow without turning around. “Yes, a most unfortunate slip of the hand.”
I can think of more unfortunate slips,VIFAI muttered.
Hush.
“If there’s any confusion about the mechanics of the process, I’d be more than happy to explain.” Maybe it was the empty stomach or the stinging along his jaw, but Iris was unwilling to let this one go. Shoulders uncharacteristicallysquared, he spun around on the balls of his feet only to meet Yan’s grinning face. The engineer took a loud bite from a red apple and flicked his eyebrows upwards, challenging Iris.
“Yan!” Riyu snapped. “How many times do I need to remind you not to eat anything before I test it?”
Yan scowled in response and took another hefty bite, chewing it with a vengeance. Iris nursed a futile hope that perhaps this specific apple was poisonous. Not lethal, no, but just upsetting enough to produce some gastrointestinal distress.
I still have his personal file.VIFAI, meanwhile, was ready for a fight.
“Here,” Riyu whispered, shooing Yan away and handing Iris a freshly filled mug. She threw the parting engineer a glare. “Ignore him. He hasn’t had his morning smoke, so he’s coming after you.”
“And I am certain, Dr. Alo, that yesterday he was just missing his evening smoke.” Iris accepted the mug from her hands and graced Riyu with a small bow.
“No, yesterday he was being an asshole,” she said, voice perfectly flat.
