Chapter 27:
The gala
Daniel:
Agafia managed to get me a suit from Earth. Apparently, she ordered it on the internet, and then had it delivered to an address, from where it was teleported to Ursula 590. The conspiracy theorists will have a field day, when they realize that aliens are buying from their shops without much of a problem.
I take one last look in the mirror. The suit is black, with silver trims. I find it too normal for a gala held in a planet that is so far away from Earth, that you can’t even find it with our best telescopes.
I put on my bright new leather shoes, and straighten my dark blue tie. Furthermore, I wonder what Constantine is going to wear. His hair is yet to straighten back up, despite his best efforts. I hope that he wears something with puffy sleeves. He looks good in puffy sleeves.
I wonder, what do I have to do, to get him to spend more time with me?
Yes, the two of us live together, but we are constantly surrounded by other people. Constantine is a social butterfly. I think that he needs to be, because of his side job. It is funny to think of happiness bottling as his side job, considering that, until recently, it was his main job.
And now, we are pocking around in other dimensions.
I still can’t believe that a couple of months ago, I still believed that Earth was all there was to it, when it came to life. Now, even the desolate dimensions have lifeforms in them.
Those thoughts remind me about the showing off at the gala. Both I and Tine are certain that the thief is the thing that we saw the other day, during his work interview.
That is, if the being wasn’t one of many.
I have so many questions. Can the thing even speak? It looked like it was made from dust and shadows. Where are its vocal cords then? Even if it speaks, will the translation shield, which is around Ursula 590, be enough to translate the language?
What if the being communicates with emotions?
It makes sense, doesn’t it? What if, the potion bottles are the equivalent of books for the dust-shadow beings? Still, if the people of Ursula 590 managed to shop from Earth, then how come this being has to steal? Was property not a common term for it?
Should I call a being that looks like a human an it, just because it is hard to reach? I can’t imagine ever calling Tine an it, and he is a Naga.
“Daniel, are you ready?” Constantine calls from outside my door.
“Yes, you can come in,” I say, and he opens the door.
“Oh, wow,” Constantine says, as his eyes go wide. “You pull out the silver fox look quite well.”
“Silver fox?” I ask.
“Well, it is just that, you have salt and pepper hair. And those adorable laugh lines under your eyes,” Constantine says. I shake my head.
“Now you make me want to have met you earlier. If you like me now, your jaw would have dropped, when I was in my thirties,” I say with a wink.
“I don’t mind your age. You are like aged Boa wine,” he says.
“Wasn’t that the expensive wine that you keep for special occasions?” I ask him. I know for a fact, that he hides a bottle in the basement in a static shield. He uses more mana to keep the wine from going off, than he does to power the house.
“I can open a bottle. You’ll love it,” he tells me, and then slithers to me. Constantine takes a hold of my tie, and tightens the knot. “There, now you are presentable.”
“I have never been to such an event,” I tell him, my eyes searching his for any signs of surprise. He just smiles at me.
“Neither have I. But we have two important jobs tonight. Job number one, get funding. Job number two, prove to the police that there is a race of aliens in a different dimension, that steals happiness potions,” he tells me, and takes a hold of my hand. I love it, when he does that. His hands are so soft, his skin so silky.
“Tine, I was thinking. Can happiness potions be read?” I ask. He tilts his head to the side.
“Are you suggesting that they can be like books, for the aliens?” He asks. I am happy that we are on the same wavelength about it all, but the way he referred about them doesn’t sit well with me.
I mean, I referred to them as aliens too. Yet, for me, Tine is also an alien. And the onion elves too. And the pixies. The entire Cosmos, now that I think about it.
“Let us not call them aliens,” I tell him. “How about: Citizens of Dimension Beta?”
“Do you think that, for them, their dimension is Dimension Alpha?” Constantine asks.
“We are getting off track. You know more about bottled emotions than the entire Manacom team. So, can they be read?” I ask him. He nods.
“There are people out there. Those that have been in a near-death experience. They report that they can get words out of an emotion bottle. For the rest of us, an emotion bottle is just the sum of the emotions of the bottler,” Constantine says, and then his eyes go wide. “Do you think that, we didn’t see some dimension, but the Underworld?”
“We have to tell Agafia of our theory. She won’t be happy, that she won’t be able to mine the land of the dead,” I say. Constantine begins to slither towards the lower floor, as I grip both his hand and the safety railing. I mean, I am used to stairs. Such ramps are hard for me to cross, even though the slope of Constantine’s ramp is not too steep.
As we get out of the house, and into the waiting taxi, which is another hover car, I lean into Constantine. Just as I am about to kiss him, I see a cloud of dust linger before his room’s window.
I blink, but nothing happens. The window doesn’t open; the shields of the house don’t glow red. Maybe I should clear my mind, and think about getting the funding, instead of seeing the dust beings everywhere?
Chapter 27:
The gala
Daniel:
Agafia managed to get me a suit from Earth. Apparently, she ordered it on the internet, and then had it delivered to an address, from where it was teleported to Ursula 590. The conspiracy theorists will have a field day, when they realize that aliens are buying from their shops without much of a problem.
I take one last look in the mirror. The suit is black, with silver trims. I find it too normal for a gala held in a planet that is so far away from Earth, that you can’t even find it with our best telescopes.
I put on my bright new leather shoes, and straighten my dark blue tie. Furthermore, I wonder what Constantine is going to wear. His hair is yet to straighten back up, despite his best efforts. I hope that he wears something with puffy sleeves. He looks good in puffy sleeves.
I wonder, what do I have to do, to get him to spend more time with me?
Yes, the two of us live together, but we are constantly surrounded by other people. Constantine is a social butterfly. I think that he needs to be, because of his side job. It is funny to think of happiness bottling as his side job, considering that, until recently, it was his main job.
And now, we are pocking around in other dimensions.
I still can’t believe that a couple of months ago, I still believed that Earth was all there was to it, when it came to life. Now, even the desolate dimensions have lifeforms in them.
Those thoughts remind me about the showing off at the gala. Both I and Tine are certain that the thief is the thing that we saw the other day, during his work interview.
That is, if the being wasn’t one of many.
I have so many questions. Can the thing even speak? It looked like it was made from dust and shadows. Where are its vocal cords then? Even if it speaks, will the translation shield, which is around Ursula 590, be enough to translate the language?
What if the being communicates with emotions?
It makes sense, doesn’t it? What if, the potion bottles are the equivalent of books for the dust-shadow beings? Still, if the people of Ursula 590 managed to shop from Earth, then how come this being has to steal? Was property not a common term for it?
Should I call a being that looks like a human an it, just because it is hard to reach? I can’t imagine ever calling Tine an it, and he is a Naga.
“Daniel, are you ready?” Constantine calls from outside my door.
“Yes, you can come in,” I say, and he opens the door.
“Oh, wow,” Constantine says, as his eyes go wide. “You pull out the silver fox look quite well.”
“Silver fox?” I ask.
“Well, it is just that, you have salt and pepper hair. And those adorable laugh lines under your eyes,” Constantine says. I shake my head.
“Now you make me want to have met you earlier. If you like me now, your jaw would have dropped, when I was in my thirties,” I say with a wink.
“I don’t mind your age. You are like aged Boa wine,” he says.
“Wasn’t that the expensive wine that you keep for special occasions?” I ask him. I know for a fact, that he hides a bottle in the basement in a static shield. He uses more mana to keep the wine from going off, than he does to power the house.
“I can open a bottle. You’ll love it,” he tells me, and then slithers to me. Constantine takes a hold of my tie, and tightens the knot. “There, now you are presentable.”
“I have never been to such an event,” I tell him, my eyes searching his for any signs of surprise. He just smiles at me.
“Neither have I. But we have two important jobs tonight. Job number one, get funding. Job number two, prove to the police that there is a race of aliens in a different dimension, that steals happiness potions,” he tells me, and takes a hold of my hand. I love it, when he does that. His hands are so soft, his skin so silky.
“Tine, I was thinking. Can happiness potions be read?” I ask. He tilts his head to the side.
“Are you suggesting that they can be like books, for the aliens?” He asks. I am happy that we are on the same wavelength about it all, but the way he referred about them doesn’t sit well with me.
I mean, I referred to them as aliens too. Yet, for me, Tine is also an alien. And the onion elves too. And the pixies. The entire Cosmos, now that I think about it.
“Let us not call them aliens,” I tell him. “How about: Citizens of Dimension Beta?”
“Do you think that, for them, their dimension is Dimension Alpha?” Constantine asks.
“We are getting off track. You know more about bottled emotions than the entire Manacom team. So, can they be read?” I ask him. He nods.
“There are people out there. Those that have been in a near-death experience. They report that they can get words out of an emotion bottle. For the rest of us, an emotion bottle is just the sum of the emotions of the bottler,” Constantine says, and then his eyes go wide. “Do you think that, we didn’t see some dimension, but the Underworld?”
“We have to tell Agafia of our theory. She won’t be happy, that she won’t be able to mine the land of the dead,” I say. Constantine begins to slither towards the lower floor, as I grip both his hand and the safety railing. I mean, I am used to stairs. Such ramps are hard for me to cross, even though the slope of Constantine’s ramp is not too steep.
As we get out of the house, and into the waiting taxi, which is another hover car, I lean into Constantine. Just as I am about to kiss him, I see a cloud of dust linger before his room’s window.
I blink, but nothing happens. The window doesn’t open; the shields of the house don’t glow red. Maybe I should clear my mind, and think about getting the funding, instead of seeing the dust beings everywhere?
