Book 1 — Chapter 56

Published Summer 2026

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Day: Hyningo

Date: 1

Month: Oketekarium

Quarturn: 1618

City/Town: Melchior

Country: Minu

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“Okay. This argument is boiling down to semantics on which the dividing line is those whose birthtongue is Agglomerate, and those who know it as an additional language,” Ash argued as she lifted her hand to her hip and rested with an indication of rising annoyance. “Do you agree, Miles?” 

 

“I do,” he responded with a nod. 

 

For it was a sentiment he could agree with, as the disagreement was providing him his first experience at Nokahme of collective discourse. 

 

Something that truly surprised him as the morning’s readying for the day’s meals had begun as usual. Trip to the market. Menu planning. General preparation. And the random conversations that spurred from the moment as they worked. And while most of the conversations ranged from mundane to even inane, they had never taken such a contesting tone. All stemming from a passing comment of an athlete and the concept of sacrifice.

 

For himself and Ash, they had taken the stance that sacrifice was anyone giving something of value for the hope of a positive outcome — while Wayra and Akiva asserted that sacrifice shouldn’t be assigned to those who forfeit for their own personal gain. 

 

“There may be a case of ‘lost in translation’ here,” Wayra conceded in a clear voice. 

 

“Although …” Akiva interrupted with an emphasis in her voice. “It could be a case of your language being lexically insufficient. When you have an exiguous vocabulary, you’ll lack nuanced words.”

​

He looked at Ash, who took a visible breath and grinned — as if she were aghast at the continuing argument and was attempting to keep herself focused as she retorted. 

 

“Yes. I’m familiar with the semantic gap between languages. What I’m now finding odd is that you two seem to believe that the fault lies in the definition set up by Agglomerate instead of considering that you’re both wrong in who gets to define their actions as a sacrifice.”

 

“Well, wash me in your judgement if you’d like,” Akiva cried with a howl of amusement. “But y’all are willing to grant credit where credit is not due. You’re trying to argue that just because an athlete doesn’t get to go clubbing or spend money on things they like, are somehow to be admired for their supposed sacrifice. It’s bunk-shit. Not getting to do whatever you want, when you want, for something you signed up for isn’t sacrifice. It’s a nest egg to serve your own purposes and personal gain.”

 

“So in your mind, if anyone does anything that results in personal gain, it’s no longer a sacrifice?” he asked as he was surmounting he was feeling the same as Ash. 

 

“While that may be too rigid, or too general, of a distinction,” Wayra offered with a smile and a shrug. “I have always used, as a decisive indicator of sacrifice, the metaphor of planting a fruit tree. If you plant a fruit tree — water it, feed it, nourish it — with no hopes of ever reaping the benefits of that tree — with no hopes of ever tasting the fruit of your labors — with only the intentions of doing so for the selfless sake of benefiting others: that’s what sacrifice is.” 

 

“Uuuggghhh,” Ash groaned as she rolled her head and flopped it with exaggeration. “I hate when people argue in pseudo-prose. It makes it so hard to disagree with as you paint such a lovely picture. However, I’m not so malleable to point out the flaw in that reasoning, as what you’re talking about is legacy and altruism.”

 

“Not necessarily,” Wayra claimed with a continued smile. “Legacy implies something from the past. You can exercise this metaphor in the present: not tasting the fruits for a host of reasons.”

 

“No, yeah, I see what you’re getting at,” he admitted with a nod. “But I’m going to have to agree with Ash on this one. You’re talking about altruism. Sacrifice and altruism have some common threads; but they are different. Going back to Ash’s first comment, this was semantics; she’s right there too. I think this pretty much proves it. You’re both looking for a sanitized definition of sacrifice while that definition already exists in altruism.”

 

“Oh, cut the shit, Miles,” Akiva griped with a scowl. “If you want to accuse us of anything, I’d proudly say we’re gatekeeping a word: for the definition’s benefit. Because people have always been competing for the ‘who has it worst’ title. Or even more loathsome, the chance to benoble themselves as someone to be esteemed. Applying the word sacrifice, as you do, breeds arrogance and conceit in people that haven’t earned a reason to be celebrated.” 

 

Akiva turned her attention to Ash as she continued. 

 

“And you should be more mindful of that, as you’re looking to raise a little nugget whose goal is to be an athletic champion. You telling her that missing out on something, so she can yield results for her goals, is praise-worthy; that’s going to turn her into something awful.”

 

“Yeah, no. Damn no!” he exclaimed, as a rush of anger moved through him as he felt a line had been crossed. “Absolutely not; we’re not going to go that route. Turning a friendly debate into an individual attack. If you can’t make a strong argument without using personal emotional maneuvering, then I kindly suggest you rethink your argument.” 

 

“Pffft …” Akiva sounded with dismissal. “Don’t you go getting your undergarments in a wad on Ash’s behalf. I didn’t mean it as a personal attack. I should have reworded it differently; sorry for that. But words and their meanings are one thing I will tenaciously fight over. I get riled when you just impute an interpretation that should be reserved for true saviors. Times are coming soon when you’ll see my version of sacrifice, and you’ll want to restrict who can ascribe it to their actions.”

 

He felt his brow furrow in concern, as this was another case in which Akiva had alluded to some heavy moments in the foreseeable future. Ones that she had said they would talk about later; but ones that she had avoided since said promise. 

 

It was a parallel emotion that apparently struck Ash as well; her face, which was once pinched with anger, had released its firmness to one of unease and confusion. Something she seemed to wish for clarity on, but was interrupted; the front door to the pub opened, revealing Raer sliding in carefully, as if she didn’t want anyone to see her move in.

 

“Oh, thank Deo you’re here!” Akiva declared with a pitch of relief. “You’re a bit of a moral compass for the masses. Settle a debate for us. Is the word sacrifice too readily used for people who are working towards their own goals, or should the word purely be used for people when they do something to help others, with no personal gain to be had?” 

 

As Raer made her way to the bar and settled onto a stool for a sit, her eyes wandered in thought as her mouth pursed in consideration. It was a series of expressions that prompted him to smile and chuckle lightly, as he was fond of her sweet animation.

 

But as Raer seemed to have come to an answer to the question presented, she nodded to her internal monologue and released a decisive breath as she responded.

 

“I don’t have an opinion.” 

 

Another laugh came to him as they all collectively groaned at Raer’s response, one she defended as she continued. 

 

“It may be unsatisfying, but sometimes I don’t take a position.” 

 

“You suck,” Akiva grumped. A verbalization that was followed by a chuckle that illustrated she was mostly teasing. 

 

“Or! I may be the bestest ever, as I’m here with good news. Well … potentially good news.” 

 

“What do you have for us?” Wayra asked in a hopeful manner. 

 

“I have a potential cook for you. Long of the short: she’s been wandering since she graduated from secondary; didn’t go on to finishing or trade. Unfortunately, she came upon a rough time and ended up seeking shelter with us at Sanctuary. She’s been cooking for us out of thanks, and you all … I’ve never eaten better. She’s so talented … it’s the type of talent that makes you so wildly envious and so genuinely happy for someone you hate your life by comparison.” 

 

“Strong praise, indeed,” he observed through his laugh. 

 

“She’s smart. Though she is admittedly spicy with little-to-no filter. Nothing trauma-inducing; but she will make you blink in disbelief on occasion. Most importantly, a mutual friend of ours recommended I bring her over for you to meet. They were confident she’s part of the puzzle.” 

 

“You said she’d been traveling since secondary. How old is she?” Ash asked with worry in her voice. 

 

“She’s from Ki. Full heritage Oken. The compulsory schooling there only goes to around 17 quarturns. So, to your implied question, yes; she’s young. This is her 19th quarturn,” Raer answered with a hint of unease. 

 

“Ouch,” Ash commented with a wrinkle to her nose, given the information. “That’s really young. It’s old enough to work, drink, vote, and serve as Civil Security; but that’s a significant age gap with the rest of us.” 

 

“And I’m not going to defend that age gap by spouting off platitudes like ‘she’s so mature for her age’ or ‘age doesn’t matter,’” Raer clarified with a firm voice. “This is why I mentioned she’s spicy and devoid of a filter. It’s her age showing itself. But that doesn’t negate her experience nor her talents. And when you hear her background, you’ll understand why I even entertained the idea and brought her here.”

​

“Dear Deo, y’all are so ridiculous,” Akiva uttered with vexation. “You’re all babies to me by age comparison; you don’t see me dismissing you.” 

 

“Don’t be obtuse,” Wayra chided with a chuckle. “Yes, you’re far beyond all our solar years, but the maturity between us is closely aligned. And that’s where Ash has a valid concern. It may not be the same with her; a greater developmental divide. It’s no good having needed help if the help is going to cause friction because of generational misunderstandings. However, I’m also not going to infantilize her, as she’s of age in all the required roles.” 

 

“While this is your business and you run it how you see fit, I say we at least meet her,” he suggested, as he could see all the sides being presented.

 

“Agreed. Bring her in,” Wayra said.

 

“She’s right outside. Porter’s keeping her company,” Raer explained. She slid off the stool and walked backward towards the front door as she further explicated. “We were on our way here when Porter spotted us and picked us up. I guess he had forced time off because of all the overtime he picked up, something like that. Sorry! Over explaining. I just can’t wait for you to meet her.” 

 

Raer turned with a bounce and pushed the door open, enough to lean out and gesture, instructing Porter and the girl to come in.

 

It was a moment that he couldn’t help but smile, as Raer’s enthusiasm was always endearing. But his thoughts didn’t linger on Raer, as his attention was quickly drawn to the Oken girl, who entered the pub with an expression of impassivity — as if she were trying to impress indifference to her impending interview and its outcome. 

 

He studied the girl as she walked slowly, looking around the pub. She was, from what he could discern, of full Oken heritage — as Raer had said. She had all the typical Oken features. The lovely heart-shaped face. The upturned almond-shaped eyes framed by a long, singular set brow that curved gracefully from eye to eye. Striking red-amber eyes that were accentuated by the warm medium beige skin tone with its copper undertones. And the set of horns that rested on the sagittal line of the head. 

 

And while he had always found Okens to be particularly handsome, this girl was blessed with an especial beauty. Her height appeared to be slightly over 160 centimeters, with what looked to be a thin build that housed what he supposed to be a mass of approximately 20 percent body fat. Her hair was dark brown and cut to the chin, enhancing her facial shape. And the most striking aspect of her appearance was how truly good-looking she was, with her heart-shaped lips and a button nose.

 

Her clothing reflected her youth, with multilayered, sleeveless fitted shirts that exposed her midriff, and hip-hugging balloon pants that presented artificial bulk to her small frame. 

 

“She’s so pretty,” he heard Ash, who was standing next to him, whisper under her breath with an admiring pitch.

 

“Very,” he agreed in a hushed tone, as Raer, Porter, and the girl came to the bar and all settled onto stools. 

 

He looked at Raer, who announced with eagerness.

 

“So! From right to left; this is Miles, Ash, Wayra, and Akiva. Everyone, I’d like to introduce you to Fawn Tseryibyrysy. Am I pronouncing that correctly?” 

 

“Close enough,” Fawn confirmed with a shrug and a cheerful tone. 

 

“That’s a mouthful. And why does that name sound familiar?” Akiva remarked in a questioning voice. 

 

It was a question that was pushed aside as Wayra received Fawn with a warm smile and spoke.  

 

“Welcome to Nokahme. I’m sure Raer has given a full background of what we do and who we are; I’d like to focus on you. Tell me a bit about yourself.”

 

“Yeah. She was thorough. Is that the polite word?” Fawn questioned — in a manner that imparted sarcasm from what was obviously Raer’s overcommunication.

 

It was a moment that caused everyone to hold in their snickers and hide their smiles, as the “spicy” that Raer had warned about was officially on display. 

 

However, it was humor that left focus; Fawn seemed to examine behind the bar as she leaned forward on the stool and, returning to her seat, spoke in a frank delivery. 

 

“I know when looking for a job, it’s an outmoded convention to try to sell yourself. I’m sure some places still cling to that hegemony of the employer being the dominant. But I’m going to, based on prior lauding by Raer, presume you’re not that kind of rerun. This is a mutual interview. Covered?” 

 

He glanced at Wayra, who appeared to be perfectly accepting of Fawn’s stipulations; his expression remained one of calm and amiable — smiling with a nod and a gesture encouraging her to continue.

 

“Then I’m going to follow through with that and say there’s already a setback to your attractiveness as an employer. Those mushrooms over there. I don’t know who sold them to you, but they scammed you because those things are mildly poisonous and are going to cause basement-level stomach issues.”

​

“Wait! How do you know?” he asked with surprise, as he had just purchased them that morning from what he thought was a reputable seller.

 

“Because Okens, like myself, can see bands of colors others can’t see. The color marbling on the top is telling me they’re going to ruin your pants.”

 

It was a descriptive that sent everyone into a chuckle. But his own curiosity was still prominent as he spoke around the laugh and questioned. 

 

“Okay. First off, gross. Secondly, not placing doubt on you, but I did buy them from an Oken seller.” 

 

His comment seemed to stir humor, as Fawn’s face brightened with an enormous smile and a small giggle came forward. But she moved to respond to his comment as she pointed out. 

 

“They probably weren’t full Oken. Only full Okens can see deeper into the spectrum; thus seeing those aren't right.”

 

“Yeah, I can’t see the color bands,” Porter confirmed in a monotone voice. “But I believe you.” 

 

“Well, we’ll be taking those back in a little while,” Wayra noted with a grateful smile. “Thank you for the heads up.”

 

“Don’t thank me yet. I’m not done hurling insults at you. Like those glasses stacked there; the bases look pitiful,” Fawn stated with a tinge of disgust in her voice. 

 

“Um, that was me. I must have missed a spot,” Akiva admitted. 

 

“Yeah. It’s easy to miss something when you don’t do it,” Fawn declared with a critical tone. 

 

He again felt the comicalness of the moment as another snicker came forward by reflex towards Fawn’s boldness. It was one that caught her attention as she looked at him with a piercing gaze and directed. 

 

“You’re already zero-for-one in the competency department. Up to challenging my zero-for-two expectations? Let me see how you wash your hands.” 

 

He again chuckled as she was delivering as promised, lobbing cheek in every instance. But it wasn’t something he took personally, as he walked over to the sink, turned the knob to set the required temperature for skin cleaning, and turned on the faucet. As he proceeded to wash his hands, he again couldn’t help but smile by reflex with a shake of his head, as Fawn’s brashness was entertaining and, he had to admit, not lacking in merit. 

 

As he finished rinsing his hands, he reached for a washable towel, dried his hands, and then used the towel to turn off the faucet. 

 

“Oh! Thank Deo!” he heard Fawn exclaim over his shoulder as he tossed the towel into the dirty linen basket. 

 

He turned and looked at Fawn, who wore a large, approving smile on her face as she continued. 

 

“I see way too many people turn off a faucet that they’d just turned on with their dirty hands. It defeats the purpose; you’re getting germs back on your hands through contact. Always, always, always use a buffer when turning off a faucet. Plus one for Nokahme.” 

 

“Yaaayyy, Miles earned us a point,” Akiva remarked in a sardonic pitch. 

 

His laugh burst forward, as Fawn shot Akiva a dirty look and stuck her tongue out in jeer. 

 

It was a laugh that was shared by Ash, though she remained on topic as she asked. 

 

“We do practice strict hygiene here, though on busy days, we’ll run out of towels and follow up hand washes with sanitizing lotion.” 

 

“That’s acceptable,” Fawn chirped with a definitive nod as she turned her attention to Wayra. “Speaking of hygiene, let’s talk food cleanliness. I trust you have refrigeration, so quick answer, where does the fresh meat go? Be warned, there is a right answer.” 

 

He looked at Wayra, who nodded with a sigh as he responded. 

 

“We do have refrigeration. Both for business and personal use. And we do practice the top-to-bottom storage hierarchy. We even go as far as binning food by type. Like if they’re directly exposed or peeled; such as leafy vegetables to skinned ones.”

 

“Now you have my attention,” Fawn stated in a voice that suggested she was genuinely impressed. “Wasn’t expecting that from the looks of the place. No offence.” 

 

“Some taken,” Wayra admitted with a chuckle as he looked at Ash and widened his eyes in astonishment. 

 

“Fawn, sweetness,” Raer spoke in a pleading voice, as if trying to temper Fawn before she continued. “If I may, I’m certain Fawn is keenly aware of how environmental factors influence every aspect of our lives here. It’s a bit of a culture shock, given her grounding. So maybe we could all apply some latitudes through adjustments. Right?”

 

It was a subtext that Fawn recognized immediately, as she experienced a moment of clarity and exclaimed.

​

“Oh! Yeah! I’m not trying to be an asshole. I fully understand that poverty isn’t a personal failing; it’s systematic oppression. I’m just trying to make it clear that cooking and kitchen management is one of the few things I do well. And not just good, I’m one of the best.”

 

“Okay. Can appreciate the assurance. So what experiences do you have to inspire such confidence?” Warya asked. 

 

“Been cooking all my life,” Fawn responded with a smile of pride. “When I say I literally grew up in a kitchen, I’m using the word ‘literally’ correctly. My mother was a chef …” 

 

“That’s where I know your name!” Akiva interrupted with a shout. “Dear Deo! You’re part of the Tseryibyrysy family; your whole family is super famous.” 

 

To his surprise, Fawn didn’t seem to be happy that Akiva had recalled who her family was, as she rolled her eyes and groaned. 

 

“Yes. Uugghh. But we’re not all famous. My one brother owns a construction company, and one of my sisters is an investor.”

 

He searched his memories, trying to place the name to whom Fawn’s family was. As suddenly the knowledge was recalled, so were some details surrounding her family that gave him pause in how to proceed. As he considered his words, he tried to push a tone of sympathy as he addressed the topic. 

 

“My memory just served concerning who your family is. I’m sorry about your parents.” 

 

Fawn let out a sigh with a shrug as her peppy pitch shrunk with his comments. 

 

“Fabled of you to say so. It’s always going to sting. But I try to exercise the whole Oken thing by honoring them through living the most gilt-edged life possible, and that helps when it hurts.” 

 

“Okay, I don’t want to be insensitive here,” Porter noted with a stress of discomfort. “But I’m not following. Who is your family and what happened to your parents?” 

 

“How is Deo’s name do you not know her family?” Akiva asked with an astonished emphasis. “You’re part Oken!” 

 

“What does being part Oken have to do with any of that?” Porter asked with a chuckle. “I don’t know because I’m far too employed to know what’s going on.” 

 

“Wait. What?” Akiva asked with continued stress and a chortle of her own. 

 

“No, no, no,” Fawn injected, crossing her hands at her wrists to illustrate attention. “I actually know what he’s getting at. One of my sisters says something similar; pointing out she has enough free time to know current pop culture; but is too busy to engage in it.”

 

“Plus, on top of it,” he added. “In any culture that acknowledges the significance of art and knowledge, there is always going to be some fame that surrounds said person. Though even then, the public at large is pretty easygoing; we make our small ado, then return to tempered veneration.”

 

Akiva moved her eyes toward the ceiling as her head moved from side to side in consideration as she admitted. 

 

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense. People are mostly ‘cool; anywho,’ about famous people, so I can see why someone might not know. I’ll make peace with that. Go on, Fawn.” 

 

“Thank you. I shall,” Fawn announced as she adjusted herself in her seat, as if preparing for an extensive explanation. “To your question, Porter, let me spin you some crazy-ass lore. My father, Kaole, was a well-known naturalist. Did a ton of television and documentaries on everything from Jeahne’s naturalism, to the introduction of non-native plants and animals from the Oken and Humes and how it changed Jeahne. I was told once, he made science palatable for the masses; which is one gilt-edged compliment. My mother, Magali, she was a chef. Very well respected. But she was the type of chef who didn’t think it was enough to know the basics; she was into every aspect of food. She wanted to know about the soil something grew in, the bugs and animals that would predate on said food, even the chemistry. With such a desire to know, she attended a seminar that my father happened to be at as well. They met, fell in love, and were unioned within two weeks; then they started pumping out the family. But again, while they were very well respected in their own fields, what made them a household name was that they successfully sued the government and technically Hylatee.”

 

“They did what?” Porter asked with disbelief. 

 

Fawn nodded as the smile of pride towards her parents washed across her face as she continued. 

 

“Yep, yep. They sued the government and subsequently got Hylatee kicked out of Ki and then Akkad. In Oken culture, and in many other cultures, stewardship of the land and all its inhabitants is vitally important. Ask any Oken what their favorite pillar is from Sanctuary, and they’ll probably say that one. Nevertheless, Hylatee came into Ki and started pushing hyper-industrialization. People, like my parents, noticed that the more Ki was moving with Hylatee and their mechanization, the more Ki was getting away from that stewardship. And it’s not like Okens reject development — gestures at Oken-designed and made Corachal housing — there just needs to be a balance. That balance wasn’t there, and Ki began to suffer environmental degradation that was palpable. My parents, along with a host of other people, brought a lawsuit against the government of Ki, stating that through the measurable environmental degradation, they were denying the citizens their inalienable rights. Like life and sovereignty. As one simply pointed out, when you can’t live on the land because it’s been poisoned by the government, they are denying you life; though my parents’ argument was way deeper than that. But yeah … they sued, the World Council agreed with them, and the government of Ki ceded. Which led to Hylatee being all pissed they couldn’t turn Ki into their dumping ground of nonsense, so they left in a huff. Which led to Ki banning them in their current iteration; and Akkad followed, as they didn’t want to get sued.”

 

“I remember reading so much about that. Was truly inspiring what they did.” Wayra commented with a tone of admiration before it took a somber turn. “Their loss was a tragedy on a global scale.”

 

“It sucked ass on a personal scale too,” Fawn remarked with sadness in her voice. “But I’ll tell you, I’m with the conspiracy theorists on this one. The only airship crash ever documented since the Mark 3 safety protocol backups? Bunk-shit. Be it pissing off Hylatee or government officials who lost money and positions in Ki, it wasn’t an accident. And I’ll die on that hill.” 

 

As silence seeped into the conversation, it was a moment that allowed him to remember the circumstances that surrounded her parents’ life and death. He too had read about the lawsuit that ended in a significant payout by the government, with which Hylatee most certainly had to pay part of. Though the financial gains weren’t Magali’s and Kaole’s; they had remained fully transparent and every last relit was put towards what damages had been done. Though, in being unconcealed in their endeavors, names were disclosed and some Oken officials became known as traitors and sellouts to the people. It was a byproduct that produced some serious animosity towards Magali and Kaole. One that led him to agree with Fawn. Their deaths were not an accident. It was simply against all odds what had occurred. Airships had been designed to be crash and collision proof, especially the newer models. A safer mode of transportation than STVs and DTVs. And yet they were the only instance of multiple lift failure that sent them to the ground only minutes after takeoff. Investigated by experts who couldn’t explain the hows and whys. Indeed, it was a hill he would die on as well. 

 

But as the hush had lingered for several moments, Fawn took it upon herself to bring the present back into focus; her voice lifted as she continued describing her background. 

 

“But yeah, some of my siblings are pretty famous. Obviously, I’m not one of those who are known.” 

 

“I’m familiar with your one sister who apparently followed in your father’s path … how many siblings do you have?” Ash asked.

​

“I’m the last child out of 12,” Fawn reported with a snicker that seemed to imply the size of her family surprised even her. “Six sisters. Five brothers. From eldest to youngest there is Fisk, Pike, Swan, Falk, Roe, Lark, Llew, Mai, Poe, Wren, Selk, and saving the best for last, myself. And really, while most of my siblings are known in their fields, there are only three who are considered famous. You’re right, Poe became a naturalist like our father and has made a name for herself. My other sister Wren is a really popular traditional Oken singer that even non-Okens like a lot. And Roe: uugghh. He’s a total d’seybie who claims to be a reporter, but is more of a gossip columnist. He blows.” 

 

He looked at Wayra, who tried to retain his composure as he chuckled and brought in a vocal breath of calm as he asked. 

 

“You definitely come from a parentage of high acclaim, but how does that translate into your skills?”

 

“Oh, yeah. The good stuff. I’m five quarturns younger than my closest sibling. I was a happy accident who was also, I guess, born sickly. My mother was still working at her restaurant when she had me, and because I needed extra care, she kept me at the restaurant in the back offices for many quarturns. When you grow up in proximity, you’re going to learn a lot — like, I was slicing my own fruit at two. I love being in the kitchen so much so that when I went into school, my evenings were at the restaurant, even if my mother wasn’t there. And when my parents passed —  since all my siblings were still living at the same house, pursuing their careers — I would cook their meals for them. With so many to feed and what I learned at my mother’s restaurant, I became adept at cooking and menu planning in bulk portions.”

 

“Then how in Deo’s name did you end up in Melchior?” Akiva asked with a pitch of perplexity. 

 

Fawn rolled her eyes and groaned as she responded. 

 

“Uuuggghhh. I’m not going to give you my whole life story here. I don’t know … just wanted to wander. I packed a tent, some essentials, and just roamed. Lord, y’all are prying peeps.” 

 

As Akiva burst into laughter, she nodded and acknowledged. 

 

“Oh, you have no idea how bad we get. Intrusive doesn’t begin to describe us. But I’ll pry further later. Until then, prime choice of free will; heading out like that.” 

 

“Isn’t it prime?” Fawn noted with an accompanying laugh, enjoying Akiva’s description of them collectively.

 

“Without nosing,” Wayra added with a chuckle, “what else are you willing to share with us right now?” 

 

Fawn bounced her shoulders for a couple moments, as if she were faintly dancing to a song that was playing inside her head, as her eyes and mouth movements suggested she was considering the question. As she came to a conclusion, she smiled brightly and nodded as she responded. 

 

“Yeah. I don’t have legs.” 

 

As everyone shook their heads simultaneously, wondering if their ears or eyes had deceived them, he leaned forward over the bar and tried to get a view of Fawn’s legs. It was another action that everyone had done in unison, which led him to laugh as he leaned back and observed. 

 

“I like how we were all stunned and leaned forward to look synchronously.” 

 

It was an awareness that obviously struck Fawn as humorous, as she too was laughing with vigor at their reaction to her divulgence. She leaned back in her seat and brought her leg up to the bar, resting her calf on the edge. Then, with a pull of her pant legs and a lift to bring the fabric up past her knee, she revealed her condition and explained. 

 

“Not the whole leg, as you can see. As I just mentioned, I was sickly when I was born. Had both my legs, below the knee, taken when I was super little. I think it’s called something like a transtibial something or other; I can’t remember. But over the years, I have had different prostheses. This is my permanent leg. I mean, it’s not permanent as I can dock and undock it. However, since I’ve pretty much stopped growing, I’ve had my final surgery and my final fitting. They installed the newfangled socket that reads the muscle contractions of the knee and such allowing the prosthesis, that has this kick-ass little mini computer in it, to translate the tensions enabling the ankle and foot part of the prosthesis to move as if it were organically part of my body. It lets me walk, run, and jump fairly fluidly. To boot, the skin-sleeve looks so natural, people haven’t noticed when I wear shorts. Usually, I don’t wear the skin-sleeve when I have pants on as it’s heavy to lug around, but always have it on with shorts as the metal components get caught on everything. It’s really neat, in my opinion, as the back of the leg has a vertical slot from top to bottom that the sleeve tucks into to secure it on. Let me show you.” 

 

He felt his mouth fall agape as Fawn, up near the knees, began to peel back the “skin-sleeve” that covered the prosthesis, revealing the metal foundation that shaped the leg, supported her body, and moved her. 

 

Yet the metal wasn’t a solid piece, as within the forms cage, he could see the components of the working hinges that moved with even the tiniest adjustment from Fawn’s knee. It was something he hadn’t been exposed to, and it left him staggered by how truly amazing the technology was behind the prosthesis. He shook his head as he was at a loss for words when his attention was taken by Ash, who asked. 

 

“How do you keep enaid from disrupting the computer in there?” 

 

As Fawn continued to peel back the sleeve, revealing more of the metal form of her prosthesis, she chuckled as she shrugged with her response. 

 

“Partially luck. Partially because most of the enaid sensitive parts are deep inside the leg in the socket dock. All those leftover nerve endings formed a neuromas that’s around the dock and that’s actually what helps kind of power the prosthesis’ little computer thing that tells the rest of the leg what to do. And yes, I know … I’m being really vague, as I should be an expert on my own condition. But I’m not medically literate on the whole. My expertise in first aid, for example, begins and ends with gauze and medical tape. So no getting hurt around me.”

 

“That’s cool and all, but I would have gotten something to make me taller,” Akiva commented in a mildly teasing tone. 

 

It was an intonation that Ash apparently missed, as she vocally gasped and spoke in an appalled voice. 

 

“Oh my! Akiva! Dear Deo. That! That’s your takeaway from this?” 

 

As Akiva laughed boisterously, Fawn joined in as she returned the ribbing to Akiva as she remarked. 

 

“You know, I should be mad, but I can tell I’m going to be a huge fan of whatever your damage is.” 

 

As everyone burst into howls of laughter, Fawn returned her skin sleeve to the form as she continued her playful mocking of Akiva. 

 

“I’m on register here; don’t you dare take any prescribed meds — you’re perfect.”

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