I can look at any Squidollian in their home, too. And they really only stare when I’m on the toilet or eating. Especially eating, which they’ve got an endless fascination for.”
“So have you got a normal toilet?”
Matthew arched his eyebrows. “Yes, I got an Earth-style toilet. It’s very ab normal for Squidollia —”
“Yeah yeah whatever,” I said, embarrassed at my faux pas. “We’ll see how you talk if you gotta crap in one of them sideways johns.”
Matthew looked pained. “Already have. We were in the goddamned bar till seven in the fuckin’ morning!”
“Drinking the whole time?!”
“Yeah.”
“Both nights?”
“No. I begged off at three last night, after learning the joys of ralphing into a sideways toilet. Through liquid atmosphere.”
I laughed. “Nice!”
“I don’t find it a big deal at all. The liquid air thing. I’m used to it already.” Matthew ran his hand through the atmosphere quickly and left a trail.
“Same here,” I said.
“So tell me about this trip you went on,” Matthew said.
“Naw,” I said. “It’ll take too long. I’ll tell you when we get together. I’m... still kind of absorbing it all now.”
Matthew yawned. “OK. Man, I can’t believe I’m yawning. I got up four hours ago.”
“You’re screwed. Don’t you have to work tomorrow?”
Matthew smiled. “Nope. Triumph Over the Hurtful Days.”
“What?”
“It’s a school holiday to commemorate the long Squidollian struggle for freedom.”
I rolled my eyes at his pious tone.
“I feel very strongly about it, especially since it means I get to sleep in —”
“Bastard!” I looked at my watch. “No wonder you’re so damn chatty. I have to get my work clothes ready for tomorrow. They’re probably all wrinkly.”
“All right,” Matthew said. “I’ll get in touch with the other guys and we’ll meet soon.”
“See ya.”
Matthew nodded and the screen winked out.
I started pulling boxes open, looking for my clothes.
***
I was tricked out in a suit and tie, my hair slick from the shower. I looked at myself in the mirror. I tried to convince myself I looked like a Venusian gangster, but I didn’t buy it.
Checked the time. Still ten minutes until Mr. Zik was supposed to arrive. I would have liked to leave right away, to be swept along with the constant demands and distractions that come with the first day of anything new. Instead I found myself getting reflective in front of my reflection.
My genetically bestowed square jaw and heavy eyebrows gave me an authority I despised. My broad shoulders made me look good in a suit, and I hated it. It wasn’t the first time I had donned the uniform of the ruling class — but it was the first time I had done it voluntarily.
I knew it would drive Mom crazy if she knew. She had made some fairly big concessions in an effort to keep me on Earth.
She even went offline while she discussed it with me. I was used to talking to her as she scanned the net retinally, watching the light flicker in her eyes and the rapid blinking as I talked about the political demonstration I went to or the band I saw the night before. She would frown and her voice would sharpen if I mentioned anything that may have threatened my profile graph — she knew nothing about my pug scraps, until the end — but usually she would respond with a vaguely positive murmur.
“Samuel,” she said, a few days before I left. I was trying to get a sandwich together in the kitchen before I met up with Skaggs in Paris, so my head was in the fridge. I could tell it was serious, though, from the tone of her voice.
“I’d like to make you a final counteroffer.” Her arms were folded, and that’s when I noticed she was offline.
The last counteroffer, through her assistant, had also warned me that it was the final one but I didn’t bother pointing that out. I did try, you know. “OK, let’s hear it,” I said as I cut the bun open in my
“So have you got a normal toilet?”
Matthew arched his eyebrows. “Yes, I got an Earth-style toilet. It’s very ab normal for Squidollia —”
“Yeah yeah whatever,” I said, embarrassed at my faux pas. “We’ll see how you talk if you gotta crap in one of them sideways johns.”
Matthew looked pained. “Already have. We were in the goddamned bar till seven in the fuckin’ morning!”
“Drinking the whole time?!”
“Yeah.”
“Both nights?”
“No. I begged off at three last night, after learning the joys of ralphing into a sideways toilet. Through liquid atmosphere.”
I laughed. “Nice!”
“I don’t find it a big deal at all. The liquid air thing. I’m used to it already.” Matthew ran his hand through the atmosphere quickly and left a trail.
“Same here,” I said.
“So tell me about this trip you went on,” Matthew said.
“Naw,” I said. “It’ll take too long. I’ll tell you when we get together. I’m... still kind of absorbing it all now.”
Matthew yawned. “OK. Man, I can’t believe I’m yawning. I got up four hours ago.”
“You’re screwed. Don’t you have to work tomorrow?”
Matthew smiled. “Nope. Triumph Over the Hurtful Days.”
“What?”
“It’s a school holiday to commemorate the long Squidollian struggle for freedom.”
I rolled my eyes at his pious tone.
“I feel very strongly about it, especially since it means I get to sleep in —”
“Bastard!” I looked at my watch. “No wonder you’re so damn chatty. I have to get my work clothes ready for tomorrow. They’re probably all wrinkly.”
“All right,” Matthew said. “I’ll get in touch with the other guys and we’ll meet soon.”
“See ya.”
Matthew nodded and the screen winked out.
I started pulling boxes open, looking for my clothes.
***
I was tricked out in a suit and tie, my hair slick from the shower. I looked at myself in the mirror. I tried to convince myself I looked like a Venusian gangster, but I didn’t buy it.
Checked the time. Still ten minutes until Mr. Zik was supposed to arrive. I would have liked to leave right away, to be swept along with the constant demands and distractions that come with the first day of anything new. Instead I found myself getting reflective in front of my reflection.
My genetically bestowed square jaw and heavy eyebrows gave me an authority I despised. My broad shoulders made me look good in a suit, and I hated it. It wasn’t the first time I had donned the uniform of the ruling class — but it was the first time I had done it voluntarily.
I knew it would drive Mom crazy if she knew. She had made some fairly big concessions in an effort to keep me on Earth.
She even went offline while she discussed it with me. I was used to talking to her as she scanned the net retinally, watching the light flicker in her eyes and the rapid blinking as I talked about the political demonstration I went to or the band I saw the night before. She would frown and her voice would sharpen if I mentioned anything that may have threatened my profile graph — she knew nothing about my pug scraps, until the end — but usually she would respond with a vaguely positive murmur.
“Samuel,” she said, a few days before I left. I was trying to get a sandwich together in the kitchen before I met up with Skaggs in Paris, so my head was in the fridge. I could tell it was serious, though, from the tone of her voice.
“I’d like to make you a final counteroffer.” Her arms were folded, and that’s when I noticed she was offline.
The last counteroffer, through her assistant, had also warned me that it was the final one but I didn’t bother pointing that out. I did try, you know. “OK, let’s hear it,” I said as I cut the bun open in my
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