Meliora - Emanate - 05

[lady_mab]

Lionel Darcy

I try to focus on the work before me. The world is awash in green from my goggles, the read out flooding my view. A stream of data, fed by my tech gloves, flicks in and out of view as I move my fingers. 

Lia and I haven’t been arguing, per se. We haven’t even been touching the subject. I know she’s mad at me for the whole Lianel thing.

Rhys had texted later in the evening after the initial meeting. He admitted that he tried to get Lysander as our Informant, but was sidelined by Kaito insisting upon the spot. 

Something as big as the subject for this game can’t go unnoticed. News sources will pick up on it soon. Independent bloggers, even people participating: The word will get out there. Patrick Mercer told us we can’t get outsiders involved, as if telling someone they can’t do a thing ever meant they would follow that rule. 

I’m finally getting into the groove of work, finding the source code I wanted to work with. I turn up the volume on my earphones for good measure -- fingers flitting over the keyboard in time to the heavy guitars. 

It’s not until I’m trying to connect the newly programmed drive -- circuits in my gloves giving me a status update on the delicate piece of hardware, goggles presenting that information in the form of graphs and a pulsing line of code -- that I notice someone in the corner of my eye. A minute passes and the figure is still there, so I say, “Busy. Come back later.” 

A voice grumbles in response. Probably with the intention of being heard, but my music is loud enough that I can’t make out any more than that. 

A hulking form moves to block out my light, and the techno babble read out from my goggles follows when my gaze rolls away from the tiny field of the circuit board. My fingers finally snap the drive into place. 

My boss stands in the way of my light, framed by a halo of bright fluorescent. His arms are crossed over his chest, and a puckered frown is lost in his goatee. He taps one ear, and I oblige by plucking out the earbud. 

“Yeah?” 

“Someone here to see you.” 

“Some… one?” It’s clearly not Lia or Rhys, because all of my coworkers know my family. 

“Says he knows you from school. Got a star tattoo right here?” He taps his cheekbone beneath his left eye.

The vague descriptor leaves me little to go off of, so I have no idea how to prepare myself for what waits in the main shop. I sigh and slide out of my chair. “Won’t be long.” 

He nods once and makes his way to his corner of the back office. 

I pull off my gloves and the connection to the goggles is lost. The flatline data on the readout vanishes and leaves everything a bland shade of green. 

I tug off the goggles as I round the corner into the main shop. A tall, dark skinned teen stares at a bundle of cords. His pale green eyes practically pop out of his head, though I can’t tell if that is because of his expression of wide eyed curiosity, or if the stark color contrast creates the optical illusion. 

He doesn’t notice me when I step behind the counter, so I take the moment to try and remember him. It’s not until he starts to reach for the cords that I clear my throat and draw his attention away. I don’t know his intention, but he looks the type to break anything electronic that he touches. 

He jumps and turns the pale gaze on me. Sure enough, there’s a powder blue star beneath his left eye. “Lio!” A large grin covers his face and it only takes him two loping steps to cross the distance to the counter. ”Haven’t seen you around in a while. How’ve you been?” 

I’m still having a hard time placing him, though there is something naggingly familiar about his expression. “Do I know you…?” 

It’s a testament to his sheer cheerfulness or a lack of anything going on upstairs that his grin doesn’t falter in the slightest. “I’m Zoné. We had English Comp together last year.” 

“Oh.” I remember him now. He was the kid constantly getting called out during class for eating. I also remember him being obnoxiously loud and surrounded by people. “I’m not taking summer classes, if that’s what you mean.” 

A small sound of understanding leaves his mouth, and he rocks back on his heels. “That’s why. I’ve got to take them to make up for the fact that I came in late during my first year. Can you believe that my credits from New Ox don’t count? Okay, I skipped most of year nine, but whatever.” His hands are shoved into his pockets. He looks like he’s ready to settle in for the long haul. 

We stare at each other in silence for a long moment. I’m trying to figure out what is going on through his head, and he’s standing there smiling. 

“So,” he starts again. “How’s your sister?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and release the pent up sigh. “Listen. I don’t have a lot of time to talk. I’m sort of at work, and all--” 

“Right, no, I totally understand--” 

“Is there something I can help you with…?” 

He shrugs off his backpack and pulls out the school issued laptop. It’s small and battered and practically fits into the palm of his hand -- either that or his hands are large enough to dwarf it. “I want to ask you a question about a list.” 

“What?” Irritation reaches a near boil in my chest. I have better things to do than to sit here and deal with this. “If this is a homework thing, I’m afraid I can’t help you.” 

“Huh? No, of course not. It’s about Meliora.” 

He says it with such a straight face that the word doesn’t even sink into my brain until several seconds later. “Meli--wait, what?” 

“Mel-i-ora? You know, that game where you have to team up and--Hey!” 

I round the counter and latch onto his arm. With one sharp tug, I drag him into the depths of the store. He stumbles along behind, maintaining a careless grip on his laptop. I shove him before me, and his momentum sends him tripping over his own feet. “You know about Meliora?” 

“Yeeeahh?” His voice is at normal volume, even though I’ve dropped mine to a hiss. “Is that bad…?” 

“No. Well…” I have to think about it. I still have no theory about how we had been chosen. Zoné is just another piece of information that will help discern a pattern. “No, it’s not. Just… don’t talk so loud. We don’t know who is involved and who isn’t. And the Program Manager said we’re not supposed to involve outside people…” It’s a weak excuse to my ears, but he seems to buy it readily enough. 

He lifts the laptop and holds it before me. “I thought that is the point of this list in the first place. To know who received an invite.” 

It takes several seconds for my eyes to adjust to the dim screen. Once I recognize the words, my eyebrows shoot up and I glance at him. “This is the list I pulled from the email… How did you get this?” 

While still in the meeting, I decided to challenge myself and pulled the email recipient list. I didn’t look at it after exporting it. I just wanted to have it for the sake of having it. Sure enough, Altair, Zoné rests right near the top. My brother is several spaces below the bottom of the screen. 

“Mr. Stavros got it from your brother.” 

I allow the frown to pull at the corners of my lips, and my brows quirk in disappointment. He doesn’t flinch. “You know Lysander?” 

“Well, he’s my teacher for summer school. But seeing as I didn’t go to the first meeting, he sort of filled me in on what he knew from your brother. He’s going to be that Informant thing.” 

A scathing reply makes its way up the back of my throat, though I bite it back at the last second. No need to insult someone I barely know, not when we’re in this strange game together. “Oh. Who is your second teammate?” 

He pulls a face, an expression clearly tinged in embarrassment. “I haven’t asked her yet.” 

“You’re sort of running out of time. We have to register the teams on Sunday.” 

“I know. I… there’s something I wanted to ask you before I approach her, though.” 

My stomach flops unsettlingly. Here it comes. The awkward moment where I have to turn him down because he decided upon something before I could even get a word in. “I can’t be your second teammate--” 

He laughs, which I don’t expect. “I know. You’re working with your brother, right? Mr. Stavros told me.” 

I wish he would stop referring to Lysander by his last name. It’s just a reminder that he’s a teacher. “Okay. That’s good to know.” 

Despite his size, he manages to pull off ‘awkward, fidgeting teenager’ quite well. He turns his eyes away, looking in every direction but mine. “I was wondering if you could look into one of these people for me.” 

My mouth drops open, but no snark automatically exits. He’s genuinely embarrassed about having to ask me a favor. “I can’t promise anything.” 

“I don’t really know what to expect, so I won’t complain if you say no.” He scrolls down halfway through the document, though it’s a painstakingly slow process as he juggle the laptop in one hand and presses the buttons with his ungraceful fingers. I’m tempted to just rescue the poor piece of equipment, misused and mistreated though generation of public secondary school students, but this is important to him. 

Finally, he highlights a name with a simple tap of his finger and holds it back out to me. 

I have no idea what he could possibly want with such a boring sounding Librarian, but I make a note of the name. I’ll pull the original email up later, and work backwards from there. “I’ll look into it. How about we meet up on Sunday and I’ll give you what I find?” 

His expression brightens and the hint of a smile returns. “That’d be great. And if there’s anything I can do for you--” 

“You’ll owe me one.” I sincerely doubt that there will be many things he can do for me. Unable to resist, I take the laptop from his hands and turn it around between my own several times. “God, I forgot how much of a trash heap these poor things are. The processing speed might as well be negative for all the good it does.” 

He visibly bristles, though there’s a strained attempt at not looking offended by my words. “I can’t afford an actual one, so I’ve got to get a school issued one.” He takes it back, defensive, and clutches it to his chest. 

Despite my better judgement, I say, “I’ll make you one.” 

This is obviously not the sort of response he expects. There’s a brief moment when he glances from me to the laptop, then at the computer equipment towering around us. “What?” 

“It won’t be much, because I don’t really have the time. But it pains me to see people using those. Like, physically pains me.” I press a hand to my chest to emphasize my words, and I’m rewarded with a slow smile spreading into his face. 

He rocks forward on the balls of his feet and claps my shoulder. “I owe you big time.” 

“Yeah, you do. I’ll try not to hold it against you.” 

Zoné shoves the laptop back into his bag and gives me a cheerful salute as he swings it onto his shoulder. “See you Sunday.” He disappears around the rickety metal shelves, and a part of me just waits for the sound of equipment to come crashing down in his wake. 

Instead, I hear the door open and the echo of the bell hum through the thin carpet. It takes another few seconds for me to drag myself back into the workshop. 

My boss isn’t at his desk, but one of the other programmers has returned from his break -- glancing at me curiously over the rim of his glasses as I make my way to my chair. I ignore him and put my earbuds back. 

Gloves and goggles on once again, I prepare to get back to work… only to slump in my chair and stare at the ceiling. 

There’s a lot to do over the next three days. The laptop won’t be an issue, as I’ve already got a few half made ones at the apartment as I experimented with power options and new video cards. 

But the idea of looking into one of the participants gives me an idea. At first, I hadn’t really thought about what the selection process was for those of us that are going to participate. The puzzle was more on why this had to be a thing in the first place. 

Even after going to the meeting, I never wanted to think about the others that would decide to play the game as well. In my head, it was simple: There is Liala and myself, and there is Rhys. We were all that mattered. 

Now, Zoné comes along and forces my view to expand. How many more people do I know will participate? And what sort of puzzle is waiting for me along this line of thought?