Dorothee was in the lounge, at the table, busily writing out a list.
“Look!” she said, holding the list up as Apples strolled in. Apples froze.
“Dorothee,” she said, slowly and carefully. “Be very … very … still.”
Dorothee followed Apples’ example, and froze.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, keeping her voice calm.
“There … is a cat … on your foot.”
“I know that, Apples. It kept nudging my arm while I was writing so I told it to stay on ground-level. I think this is its idea of compromise.”
“Oh. Okay then. What’s the list?”
“It’s my ‘fun schedule’!”
Apples gasped.
“Doro! No! ‘Fun’ and ‘schedule’ are two words that belong far away from each other! You can’t schedule fun! Well … I guess technically you can but that’s not my style, that’s not what the Apples School of Fun teaches! You’re like one of those kung fu kids who brings all these wacky new ideas into the dojo and ends up killing the master—if they find me slumped over a Rockstar Maniac guitar with a rolled-up schedule sticking out of my back you’re going to be so sorry!”
“What? I thought it’d help us focus, since we keep getting distracted. Yesterday we just composted on the couch watching Mecha-Pony, I don’t even like it that much!”
Apples gasped again.
“Dorothee! Mecha-Pony is the raddest! You can’t not like it! That’s like spitting in pudding!”
“How—”
“Anyway, we had fun, we invented ‘Sock-Cat To Ya!’ didn’t we?”
“We threw balled-up socks to make these two poor retarded cats run into a bean-bag—”
“WHICH WAS FUN, wasn’t it? We were laughing, weren’t we? You nearly had an accident when One accidentally suplexed Two! You’d never almost have an accident making lists!”
“But I LIKE lists. I enjoy them. Maybe for me ‘organisation’ is fun?”
Apples pouted a bit.
“Well that’s not the way we do things in MY fun-town.”
“So what were you thinking of doing today?”
“Exactly!”
Dorothee thought about this for a moment.
“No,” she said, conclusively, “that doesn’t make sense at all. Form proper connections, Apples.”
“Exactly I wasn’t thinking! Thinking is fun’s enemy!”
“I don’t believe that it is, actually,” said Dorothee. “There’s such a thing as intellectual fun, I’m sure of it. Like when you actually get around to doing art stuff, for your college thing, you have to focus and think and plan things out—”
“Stop making excellent points!”
Apples paced around the middle of the room for a little while, frowning and trying not to trip over too many cats.
“Okay, so MAYBE you’re on to something here,” she said, after Dorothee got back from making herself a cup of tea. “But lists and schedules are definitely not a part of things, not in the Apples Fun Dojo.”
“All right, that seems fair enough,” said Dorothee, turning the list over.
“That goes for mental lists too—and don’t think I don’t know when you’re making a mental list because I do, okay?”
“Really? Because I’m making one even as we speak.”
“Doro!”
“One, make orange milkshakes. Two, go to the video shop—”
“If you’re not going to listen to me then what’s the point?”
“Oh, Apples, I’m just teasing you—you really need to work on recognising and dealing with ‘teasing’. I’m surprised, actually, considering your parents. With a Dad like Bernie I’m amazed your teasing resistance isn’t maxed out.”
“After a certain point the counter flips back over to zero again,” Apples muttered.
“When are they getting here, anyway?”
“Oh, probably they’ll arrive just when things need a ‘pick-up’, that’s Overmoon Style. Oh! That reminds me! D&D tomorrow night!”
“Oh. Really?”
“Yes really! Doro, you were all excited about it before—”
“I know, it’s just … well, you were there, you know why I stopped playing before—”
“I know, I know, I couldn’t even believe those dice, I threw them away, did you know? Well, I didn’t actually throw them away—um, well, TECHNICALLY I did, I threw them across a table to—you know what? It was more of a ‘roll’ than a ‘throw’, I ‘rolled’ them across a table to Too Glum Glen, I thought he’d appreciate cursed dice. And he did! Happy End! Well, not for the dice, obviously. And not for you either, Doro, I’m SO sorry about everything that happened, I know I said it before but I really mean it, and I’m … I’m much better now, you can ask OJ—”
“He’s going to be in charge, right?”
“Yes, I asked him already, he’s got this thing he wants to do so it all worked out perfectly.”
“Good,”said Dorothee, crisply. She smiled. “So, what’s on the cards for today?”
*
“This is kind of convenient.”
“Yeah, um, it is that.”
OJ and Hannah walked through the park near the music store, each holding a brown paper bag.
“I think it’s nice that we both like steak and bacon pies,” she said. “Kind of unusual, I’ve only met one other person who liked that flavour.”
For just a moment OJ stiffened, then he relaxed again.
“How about here?” he suggested. “I usually like to sit on these benches.”
“I always sit by the playground,” said Hannah. “But here is fine.”
“Oh … okay, let’s go to the playground, then. I’m used to that anyway.”
“Because of your sister?”
“Yeah! Good guess!”
“Well,” said Hannah, with a soft little smile, “it wasn’t so much a guess.”
“I suppose not, if you’ve met Apples for even just five seconds you already know ninety percent of Who She Is.”
“What about the other ten percent?”
“I doubt even Apples herself knows what that’s made up of. Candyfloss, possibly. Or, hah, those lollies, what are they called—candy corn? Or is that caramelised popcorn?”
“I think that’s called caramel corn,” said Hannah.
“Candy corn, then, you know the ones I’m talking about, kind of yellow and orange with a white top, Apples loves them—well, they’re candy, of course she loves them, but she especially likes candy corn (if that is what I’m thinking of) for some reason. Um, I’m aware that I had a point but I can’t seem to remember what it was, now.”
“That’s okay, I like listening to you talk,” said Hannah. “It’s kind of relaxing or something. Shall we sit here?”
“Fine for me.”
They did so.
“No kids around,” said OJ, “that’s good … or bad? Good? Bad? Good?”
“It’s fine,” said Hannah, smiling. “I don’t mind kids, but they’re not the reason I like sitting by the playground.”
OJ waited for a moment, but Hannah didn’t continue—she started eating her pie instead. OJ smiled awkwardly, then opened his bag and began eating his own pie.
“You should invite her back to the shop, she seems to really look up to you,” said Hannah, after a minute or so. “It’s kind of cute.”
“What? I don’t know if that’s true—”
“No, she does. It’s obvious that you’re her hero.”
“Whaaaat? No. Surely not.”
Hannah shrugged. “That’s just what I saw. Does she still live with your parents? How old is she, anyway?”
“She’s eighteen now, almost nineteen … it’s so weird to think of Apples almost being twenty years old. Unbelievable, really.”
“There are some time quakes coming up soon, you might not have to worry about it,” said Hannah, before taking another delicate bite of her pie. “We’re right on a chrono fault line here, did you know?”
“In Wellesley you mean?”
“More specifically, in this park. It goes right through, from over by that building to that tree just there—that’s just what we can see from where we’re sitting, though.”
“Huh. I’ve only been in one when I was about fourteen, it was such a hassle, I had to beat the same boss like five times in Final Fantasy VI, they really muck up game saves.”
“I’ve been in quite a few—I grew up in Ward Point, in the Grasstown Flats, they’re common there. I had my sixth birthday three times, I was eight years old the third time around.”
“Wow.”
“You get used to them, though.”
“I guess you came out of them okay.”
“I hope so!” said Hannah. “Where did you grow up?”
“Oh, Leyton. And we moved to Avon when I was thirteen. Then Apples moved here when she started at the Mayberry—they didn’t have one in Avon at the time—and I came with her—”
“To look after her?”
“Well … that was part of the reason. A goodly percentage of it. But mostly it was … well, yes. To look after Apples. Someone has to.”
“I think that’s sweet.”
“Ahahaha, I dunno,” said OJ, rubbing the back of his neck. “But she’s my baby sister, after all.”
“I wish I had a sister—or a brother.”
“I guess it is nice, I’m pretty lucky.”
“So where is she now?”
“Oh, she lives with me. We live together, I mean. Up on Bellum Heights.”
“I know that area. It’s really nice, you must have a great view.”
“Um, actually not really, there’s just mostly a big grass section and then other houses. If you lean out of Apples’ bedroom window you can get an okay view out over the city, though. You can almost see the harbour.”
“Oh.”
“And it’s really windy up there, one time Apples was wearing a cape and we lost her for six hours. When she finally got blown back she’d lost her memory, she claims it’s because she went on some kind of quest and wasn’t allowed to remember the magical kingdom she’d been spirited away to—she was always saying that kind of stuff back then, though. It was kind of her ‘enchanted princess’ phase,” OJ said, neglecting to mention the magic marble Apples had brought back with her.
“Sounds like you have fun together.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty busy but usually entertaining. And she’s good to have on an adventure. Somehow she always manages to use her baffling array of seemingly useless skills and abilities to pull a victory out of nowhere. That could have something to do with her taking the ‘Strange Luck’ perk when she was six, though.”
Hannah stood suddenly, brushing pastry crumbs from her skirt.
“We should get back to the shop, anyway. Moxie needs to take her break too.”
“Oh … oh, yeah,” said OJ, standing. “Um, this was fun, though.”
“Yes,” said Hannah, smiling at him. “We should do it again tomorrow.”
*
Dorothee was slumped in an armchair, gazing loosely at the television. The remote was on the arm-rest, she had a bowl of chips in her lap, and there was a cat on her foot.
“It’s like that thing’s attached or something,” said Apples. “But getting back to the point, I kind of just feel like you’re maybe trying too hard?”
“Maybe because I AM trying hard?”
“But it’s not about that—understand, Doro! You’re supposed to be relaxing here, not … not ‘trying to relax’.”
“Suggestions, then?”
“Um … maybe you should just watch me for a while,” Apples said, as she slumped into the couch and pulled a blanket half-over her legs. Dorothee twitched for a bit, then reached forward—
“Uh!” said Apples. “What are you doing?”
“Putting the blanket properly—”
“Relax or relax not, there is no ‘proper’!”
“… what?”
“You have to stop CARING so much about stuff. So I don’t have the blanket on properly, so it’ll fall off as soon as I reach for my bowl of chips, so what?”
“I have to tell you, Apples, I’m finding all of this somewhat baffling.”
Apples sighed.
“Anyway,” she said. “Let’s do some practical stuff, you’re good at that. This particular manoeuvre is a complex gamble, but often rewarding. I’m relaxed here, right?”
“You certainly seem to be.”
“So, I don’t want to move. Like, at all. But I DO want something … what might that be?”
“Um … your chips?”
“YES! That’s it exactly Doro, oh, you ARE paying attention! Okay, so to get my chips I just do this.”
“Apples—”
Apples thumped her foot down onto the couch a few times, until her blanket fell off and the bowl of chips at the other end tipped over and spilled everywhere.
There was a moment’s silence, then Apples picked up one of the chips that had fallen near her hand and ate it.
“Did you intend to tip that over?” Dorothee asked, carefully.
“Well, not really, but ‘intentions’ are something you have to be pretty loose about when you’re a relaxation ace. ‘Goals’ too. But I got a chip, didn’t I? You’ve gotta admit it, I got a chip!”
Dorothee sighed. “Maybe I’m just not cut out for this stuff. It’s certainly more art than science—”
“STOP YOU THERE, Doro. No, this is NOT art. It’s just relaxation. Nobody’s going to put me in a gallery and exhibit me.”
“Wouldn’t bet on that,” Dorothee muttered, but not loud enough for Apples to hear her.
“I mean you can’t just call something ‘art’,” Apples was continuing. “This is just me relaxing lazily, that’s not artistic, it’s just, I don’t know, what’s the word, ‘practicality’ maybe. Art is cool stuff like great TV shows and pictures and books and games, stuff that actually takes actual effort!”
Apples fell silent for a few minutes, gazing at the TV without really watching. Dorothee ate a few chips.
“Huh,” said Apples, after a while. “I haven’t done anything since we got back from holiday. I was so busy training you that I didn’t even notice. I haven’t even opened those new sparkly pastels I bought before we left.”
Dorothee ate another chip.
“I don’t want you to give up doing art stuff because of me,” she said.
“Maybe I did get a bit too distracted. Do … do you think you might be okay without me? I mean I’d still help you, we’d still have training sessions and stuff, I just … I think I might have to go back to school. I haven’t even seen Vin or Dee for like way too long—who knows what they might be doing now? I don’t even know what the latest ‘boom’ is at the school!”
Dorothee smiled. “Something ridiculous and fun, I bet.”
“Yeah! Yeah, I bet that too! Doro, I can’t believe I forgot about
school—okay. I’m going back there tomomo, no questions asked and no answers given. Do you—”
“Home!”
“OJ!”
Apples sprang up and ran to the front hallway, skidding to a stop in front of OJ as he finished taking his shoes off.
“I bid you welcome! I’m happy you came home!” she sang. “Weeeeeelcome home!”
“Are we doing the whole thing or—”
“I’m happy you’re home now!”
“Should I get my guitar—”
“Just sing! I’m happy you’re home now!”
“No longer I’ll roam now.”
“Not for today, not anyway!”
“I’m home.”
“You’re home!”
“You are no more alone—”
“I’m here as well, don’t forget about me!” Dorothee sang, poking her head into the hallway.
“And now we’re here, all of us three!” sang Apples.
“To sing a song of hooooomecooooomiiiiiing!” they all sang together.
Apples:
There’s absolutely nothing that I’d like better—
Oranges:
Except perhaps for a home-made sweater—
Apples:
Not even that! Oh, mind that cat!
Oranges:
(Spoken)
What? What’s a cat doing in here?
Apples:
(Spoken)
I forgot to tell you, we have cats now since yesterday!
Oranges:
(Spoken)
Why didn’t I see them last night?
Apples:
Becaaaaaaaause you were distracted! So distracted!
Dorothee:
By an act of Apples so artfully enacted!
Oranges:
(Spoken)
My surprise and shock now cannot be retracted.
Dorothee:
By the sight of Apples cartwheeling down the halllllll!
Oranges:
I can’t believe I noticed not at alllllll!
Dorothee:
But forget that now, I’ll make dinner for us, lasagne or stew or curry-on-rice!
Apples:
The choices presented come at you thrice!
Oranges:
I feel as though I’m paying some price—a price too high, I cannot lie, I feel that I must surely sigh!
“But anyway,” said Apples. “So how was your day?”
“Oh, you know. Just a day.”
Apples gasped, delighted.
“You asked her out! You did, didn’t you? Well done, OJ! Doro, let’s give him The Clap!”
Both Apples and Dorothee clapped once, loudly.
“I—”
“So is that why you’re late home?” Dorothee asked. “Did you go on a little date?”
“I—”
“No, I bet he just ‘stayed’ late ‘chatting’ with ‘her’,” said Apples. “Didn’t ya?”
“I … I … how do you KNOW these things?”
“Because,” said Apples, “I’m a splendid girl.”
OJ sank into a couch with a sigh.
“It’s not fair,” he said. “Why don’t I have any cool powers or abilities?”
“What? Are you kidding? You’re good at lots of stuff!” said Apples. “I mean, if you count up all your skills and stats you’re like twice as powerful as I am.”
“Maybe theoretically, but you can’t really quantify—”
“But don’t change the subject! Did she get all cute when you asked her out? Did she get all kind of blush-y and flustered? Or, no, oh, I bet she all just like grinned and was like ‘so what took you so long?’, right? I’m right, aren’t I?”
“I don’t really—”
“Come ON, OJ, you know Doro and I are going to get every single juicy little detail out of you eventually, you might as well spill the beans now and get it over with.”
“She’s right,” Dorothee called from the kitchen. “Hot drink?”
“Milo,” called back both Apples and OJ.
“But seriously and for real-reals, OJ,” said Apples. “Inquiring minds need to know.”
“Where did the cats come from?”
“Oh, one of Dorothee’s mad cousins—hey! Don’t try to—”
“I asked her out after you visited the shop yesterday, she was happy to be asked and delighted to accompany me on my lunch break today. That’s all.”
“Yesterday? What! My ‘know what OJ did’ ability must need calibrating or something—was there a time quake today? Or yesterday? Or tomorrow?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Huh. What did—”
“Pie.”
“You shouldn’t eat pies every day, OJ, you KNOW there’s a golf ball of fat inside them.”
“I think that has a lot to do with how yummy they are.”
“So—”
“Bacon and steak.”
“And—”
“Also bacon and steak.”
“You—”
“Just stuff. About you, actually.”
“About ME?” cried Apples, delighted. “Really? Seriously? That’s cool! Was I like your ‘in’?”
“That … that sounds really sketchy, Apples.”
“But really, this is so great—isn’t this so great, Doro?”
“It’s pretty great,” said Dorothee, as she put a couple of mugs and a marker pen on the coffee table. “I thought you and Moxie had kind of a spark—”
“Oh. I didn’t ask out Moxie. Um. I asked out Hannah.”
“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT OJ.”
“Apples, I’m reeeeeeally not in the mood for flat shouting right now—”
“I AM APPALLED AND SHOCKED BY THIS NEWS.”
“APPLES WHAT DID I JUST SAY?”
“HEARING THAT YOU ASKED OUT HANNAH AND NOT MOXIE HAS INDUCED A STATE OF IRREVERSIBLE FLAT SHOUTING WITHIN ME IT CANNOT BE STOPPED.”
“WOULD YOU CALM DOWN PLEASE?”
“CALMING DOWN IS AN UNKNOWN QUANTITY IN THE WORLD OF FLAT SHOUTING.”
“LOOK I DON’T WANT TO DISCUSS MY RELATIONSHIP CHOICES WITH YOU RIGHT NOW APPLES BESIDES WHICH FLAT SHOUTING IS RUDE TO DORO YOU KNOW SHE CAN’T DO IT AND GETS ALL SELF-CONSCIOUS.”
“BUT WHY OJ WHY.”
“WHEN YOU CAN’T DO SOMETHING AND OTHER PEOPLE ARE DOING IT AROUND YOU—”
“NO OJ WHY HANNAH?”
“BECAUSE I LIKE HER SHE’S SWEET AND INTRIGUING AND SHE HAS CUTE HAIR.”
“All right, stop that,” said Dorothee. “Settle down the pair of you.”
Apples and OJ settled down. Apples spent a little while drawing an outraged face on her mug. OJ stared at one of the cats, which was industriously crunching its way through a Treat Biscuit.
“Why NOT Moxie?” Apples cried, after a minute. “SHE HAS A CAT CALLED ROXIE COME ON OJ—okay I’m stopping don’t throw a cat at me Doro!”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” said OJ, as Dorothee put down the cat. “Just be happy for me. We had a really nice lunch and … and I like her, okay?”
“I think it’s nice,” said Dorothee. “And she seemed … well, to be honest she didn’t really make any kind of impression on me at all, but I only met her for about ten seconds.”
“If you met Moxie for just ten seconds she’d make an impression on you!” Apples protested.
“Apples, it’s not … you can’t just judge people on how interesting they seem—and anyway Hannah’s interesting too—”
“Who’s judging? I’m just saying Moxie is CLEARLY the better choice here! Seriously and for reals, OJ, if you’re not going out with her I might have to!”
“You’re not a lesbian, Apples.”
“But she kind of makes me wish I was!”
“Calm down, Apples.”
“I’m just sad! Sad and disappointed, I wanted Moxie to be part of our little group, I just don’t see that happening with Hannah Redivider! I mean … yes, her name is magical and rad, but … you … she … I … corwhumph!”
Dorothee smiled at Apples’ rarely spotted expression of inexpressibility.
“Corwhumph,” she said. “Exactly. Let’s just call it ‘corwhumph’ and leave it at that for now.”
“Huh.” Apples pouted for a bit, then shrugged. “Okay fine then so how was she as a date?”
“I already told you, it was nice.”
“Nice!”
“Apples, leave OJ alone—”
“I will leave OJ alone only if … only if someone tells me a story. And a good story too, not just some spur-of-the-moment random—oh! Doro! Since we’re talking dates and stuff—”
“Apples—”
“No no no no no, come on! Tell me—oh, tell me how OJ was as a date, like when you guys first … actually, how DID you guys first meet? I never heard that story, why have I never heard that story? Doro, why have you never told me how you guys got together? That’s just, like, totally corwhumph in and of itself!”
“Have I never? It’s not very interesting.”
“Ohhhhh I bet it is really,” said Apples. “I bet it’s plenty interesting actually, right? Right?”
“Hm.”
CONGRATULATIONS! BONUS ZONE A UNLOCKED!
Bonus Zone A
Dungeon Straight
“No way. No way would you even ever talk to that girl, any girl like that. In fact ‘would’ is the wrong word, what I should have said is ‘could’. No way COULD you talk to a girl like that—no girl of that level would even make eye contact with a guy of your level, it’d be like … like heading to the final boss’s dungeon straight out of the first village, total curb stomp battle and NOT in your favour.”
“I disagree, I mean I take issue with your little RPG metaphor there on several levels, uh, Rooster. Firstly, you can’t just go to the final boss’s lair straight out of the first village even if you wanted to, you have to go through the story first—”
“That’s why I said ‘like’, and besides which there ARE games where you can do exactly that—”
“Secondly, and more importantly, the way you say it, it’s like OJ could somehow, through hours of levelling, reach a point where he could conceivably take on a ‘final boss’ like that girl. Let’s face it, he could grind all day and all night in the most efficient levelling location in the whole game-world, he’s never going to attain the power necessary to even think about taking her on. I submit that a more appropriate metaphor would be that she is like an unwinnable boss battle—a story one you’re meant to lose, I mean. Even with cheats he’s not getting out of it.”
“Hm, nice point. Probably just crash the game trying.”
“Yes, I can just picture it—OJ cheating like crazy throughout the fight, tossing out AR codes left right and centre, actually managing to beat the ‘unkillable’ boss and then the game just freezing, OJ sitting there with the boss music still playing, nothing to fight, no ‘win condition’—”
“All right, I actually think that, yes, yeah, yes definitely, I can’t hang out with you people any more,” said OJ. “I’m just … you know what it is? It’s that I could follow that whole little conversation there, there was nothing in that conversation that I couldn’t relate to, and yet I still feel this uncrossable distance between us. Rooster, you are an uncontrollable nerd. You’re such a nerd I don’t even know how to describe you, to differentiate you from other, lesser nerds. I’d call you a ‘greater nerd’ or something but that … that just sounds too complimentary. Bax, you are some kind of mutant extrapolation of whatever Rooster is. Also about five times as annoying.”
“I thank you,” said Bax.
“Yeah, thanks,” said Rooster. “You know, of course, that attempted insults on the nerditude of a true nerd are simply converted into compliments thanks to—”
“I’m going to talk to that girl just so I don’t have to listen to you complete that sentence.”
“Haha, yes, right,” said Bax. “Anyway, putting all of that aside, I thought your preference was to the short, dark and interesting variety of girl? What was that recent ‘anti-blonde’ tirade of yours about?”
“As usual you completely missed the point of what I was saying,” said OJ. “It’s not that I don’t like blondes, it’s that I don’t understand this whole ‘blonde is best’ thing that a lot of people seem to have. It’s similar to the whole ‘big breasts are best’ thing, I just don’t get it.”
“Ah, yes,” said Bax. “You always did prefer Aerith to Tifa—”
“Aeris, you pretentious twit,” said Rooster, mildly.
“Actually I liked Elena,” OJ muttered.
“Aha! The blonde one!” Bax said. “And a relatively minor character to boot, I’d wager not many would even remember the newest member of the Turks! Your argument shows its cracks, my friend!”
“What? I just finished saying that I liked blondes, just—”
“Where would that girl fall on the FF scale of boobage, anyway?” Rooster wondered, looking over at her. “She’s no Tifa, that’s for sure—”
“Rooster, discussing a lady’s chestal area isn’t exactly classy,” said Bax. “But if you must quantify then I believe she’d be an ‘Aeriffie’.”
“I thought we decided on ‘Yuris’ as that portmanteau?” Rooster said.
“Do you mean ‘Yurith‘? If you’d cast your mind back to the relevant discussion, I think you might find that we decided that an Aeriffie is a girl leaning towards the Aerith side of things, whereas a Yurith is the opposite.”
“Now that I look again, she might actually be a straight Aeris—”
“Pure Aerith, use the proper terminology—”
“All right, all right, just be quiet now, I’m starting to forget why I like you people,” OJ muttered.
“You might as well join in our little discussion,” said Rooster, “because you’re never going to get anywhere with that girl—let’s face it, you’re not going to go talk to her, and even if you did I bet she’d just laugh.”
“How would she laugh, Rooster?” Bax inquired.
“Bitterly,” Rooster replied. “And with such contempt.”
“I think that you’re wrong,” said OJ. He hesitated for just a moment, then stood decisively. “Because you know what just happened? Your talking, your little … whatever, has pushed me up to her level. It’s like Wrath of Khan, changing the game, you’ve just given me the means to unlock the key, the method by which I shall win the unwinnable scenario.”
“Did we really?” Rooster asked. “Or was the strength inside of you the entire time?”
“Just stop talking, please.”
“One issue immediately springs to mind,” said Bax. “Even if you have somehow found the courage to talk to her, however you look at things you aren’t no Kirk.”
“And there’s the second part of the equation,” said OJ. “The second half of the key, if you will. Thank you gentlemen, I go in peace.”
“But shoot to kill, rrrowl,” said Rooster.
*
“Dorothee, don’t look over there whatever you do, those three unbelievably geeky-looking guys over there are talking about us.”
“Hah. How do you know?”
“They’re all looking at us and getting more and more excited, it’s pretty gross.”
“Tracy, nerds are people too.”
“I know, I just wish they didn’t have to be in the same places as us.”
“It’s like those awful poor people, I just can’t stand them,” said Dorothee dryly.
“All right, all right, you don’t have to make me sound all prejudiced and dreck,” said Tracy.
“Tracy, you know I think you’re a good friend and I like you a lot, but your nerdism is really very unattractive. Your swearing also is something I could live without.”
“What swearing? What, ‘dreck’? That’s not swearing. You wanna hear swearing? Hell, I’ll give you swearing, those guys over there—”
“No, no, no, please don’t, seriously, I just really—”
“Oh my god I think one of them’s gonna come over here, please don’t let him talk to me, please please please please please.”
“Hi,” said OJ. Tracy put on a bright sneer and turned to him.
“We’re busy, go back to—”
“Actually I was talking to her,” said OJ, still looking at Dorothee.
“Oh?” said Dorothee.
“Oh,” said Tracy, shooting Dorothee a look and then turning her attention back to her drink.
“I was just wondering …”
“Yes?” Dorothee looked at OJ, her expression open, her eyes bright, as she wondered just what to make of this guy with his tousled, untidy hair, his disturbingly honest face, his shorts and socks and sandals (oh my goodness is he serious? I mean, really?), his t-shirt which read “Get Thee Behind Me, &” …
“The unwinnable scenario. Have you ever thought about how it was changed?”
“Sorry?”
“The unwinnable scenario,” OJ repeated. “Wrath of Khan, Kirk somehow changed the simulation or whatever so that it could be won … but they never gave details. Did you ever wonder about how he changed things?”
There was a silence. A gap of words in time. Ignoring Tracy’s quiet but heartfelt ‘oh my god’, Dorothee blinked, and when she opened her eyes again the guy in front of her was … just the same. But somehow, in the blink of an eye …
“I’m not actually a big Trek fan,” she said. “But … that’s a good question, actually. Did he just flick a switch, ‘unwinnable’ to ‘winnable’ or something?”
“Yeah, like ‘here’s your problem, someone set this scenario to ‘unwinnable’, no wonder you were having trouble’.”
“Hah, it’s like the kind of thing they never go into in detail, ‘lazy writer syndrome’ or—”
“Dorothee,” said Tracy.
“Uh, yeah?” Dorothee turned to Tracy.
“It’s past ten already, we’ll be late for the guys if we don’t go soon?”
Dorothee looked at her friend, then looked at her watch. Finally, she looked back at OJ and smiled a consolatory smile.
“I did kind of promise some friends I’d meet them tonight.”
“I’d never want to make someone break a promise,” said OJ, earnestly.
After that, there was no way Dorothee could leave.
