WarbyPicus
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Chapter 94 The Price Of Intimacy
🕑 Added 2023-05-30 16:00:03 +0000 UTCThe lights were out; the room was dim. Etenesh was lying in bed in rather new-looking pajamas. Truth suddenly felt very “bedclothes” conscious. He usually slept in boxers. He didn’t own any pajamas. But what could he do?
Run away, obviously. Say, “Sorry, not tonight, no pajamas, try me again tomorrow, when I definitely will have acquired some.” Say nothing and just vanish into the world, drifting like the ghost he was. Watching the rest of the world join him in death.
What would Dad do? His mind instinctively shied away from that thought. Crimes. Dad would do crimes, things that Truth really didn’t want to think about in connection with Etenesh. Or anybody, actually. If he didn’t commit crimes, Dad would lose himself and the opportunity for finding warmth somewhere in the bottom of a bottle. Dad would, one way or another, run away or ignore what was in front of him.
So the right thing to do is press forward. Even though it’s scary. Even though no part of this feels safe.
Truth walked to the bed. Whatever was in his rough patron’s legacy included excellent night vision. He got to the side of the bed and started undressing. He tried to think of it like being back in the barracks in the Army. Everyone saw everyone there. Everyone was too busy to care about someone else's clothing situation, except the instructors who would yell your ear off for being out of uniform. Funny- he didn’t care that much, then. He cared a hell of a lot now.
Truth stripped down to boxers and a tee shirt. He stood by the side of the bed. Took a deep breath and gently eased the blanket to the side. With exquisite muscular control, he slid into the bed without making it shake or bounce. He then carefully, silently eased the blanket back over. Etenesh hadn’t made a sound the whole time. It seems he had successfully infiltrated the bed.
His heart was beating fast. His first thought was that Etenesh didn’t smell. Not that he was expecting her to smell bad or anything. It’s just that both romance novels and murder mysteries specifically mentioned their leading ladies smelling like things. He had noticed what Etenesh had smelled like earlier. Right now, she didn’t smell like anything. No jasmine or honeysuckle or the sun. Not even like shampoo or conditioner. The room smelled of linen. And that was about it.
Somehow, that threw him. He had expected to smell something, and the lack of it was disorienting. He had a strange, momentary hallucination that Etenesh wasn’t really there at all. Then she took a shallow breath, in and out, like a little sigh. She was there. And he was here. And all he had to do was fall asleep.
He lay there rigid, staring up at the ceiling. He didn’t want to stare over at her. It would be creepy. But he desperately needed to know exactly how she was positioned. Where her hands were, her feet, any active spells she might be getting ready to cast. Any hidden knives or needlers.
Her fucking spirit! Oh shit! What was it called? He couldn’t remember, but it seemed to be pretty goddamn robust. Here he was, practically naked, sword nowhere handy, and two seconds from fighting a fucking super spirit! What the fuck was wrong with him?!
Actually, yeah, good question. Truth focused on his breathing, trying to remind himself that this wasn’t rational. That not everyone was going to betray him. Not everyone was Starbrite. Or Thierrie.
What would Dad do in this situation? If he knew about Super Spirit, he would freak out and bolt. So I should stay calm and still. But that only got him so far. It didn’t help him calm down, for one thing. Alright, on to phase two- more recent positive role models.
What would Botis do? Well, he wouldn’t curl up anywhere he didn’t feel safe, for one thing. And maybe “Literal Snake Demon” wasn’t the absolute best choice here. Though… could he cast the first part of Incisive without triggering the spirit? It was almost all mental, but who knows what the spirit was seeing. More to the point, he couldn’t keep it up forever, and definitely not while he was sleeping. If he was going to do that, he might as well just go back to his room and jam a chair under the door handle.
So that was out. That was “Dad” with more steps.
Who else was there? Well, there was the rough man from his vision. The… apparent focus of the Ghul’s worship. With nine worms tattooed in a circle on his forehead, and wasn’t he just praying that it was a tattoo. Because come on. It absolutely wasn’t. What would he do in this situation?
Hard to say, but instinctively? That guy fucks. That guy radiated a “seen it all, done it all” aura. Truth got the sense that nothing could phase him because everything had already happened to him. He wasn’t bored with the world. He wasn’t indifferent. Just the opposite, he took an active interest. But he wasn’t stressed. He would deal with whatever came up, and if he couldn’t? That would be interesting too. The sheer confidence of experience. He could meet the world unafraid.
And maybe that was it? Maybe the answer was a grand shrug. To say “Ok.” to the world. Things were unfair. Cruel. You couldn’t trust anybody. “Ok.” Now what? Now you deal. You figure out what, if anything, you intend to do about things. Truth circled around that thought a bit, trying to figure out what, exactly, were the things he should be figuring out what to do things about. It got very circular very quickly. It was just so big. So many things. Too many things. He couldn’t keep track of it all.
Too many things? Simplify. What was the problem in front of him? Sleeping next to Etenesh without freaking out. “Ok.” What was the risk? She would do something to hurt him. “Ok.” Was the risk of being hurt more important than the consequences of giving up? Of saying, “Sorry, I just can’t?”
Potentially, yes. But this wasn’t a purely logical question. What would hurt more? Giving up and deciding he couldn’t ever trust another person or risk being hurt? He stared at the ceiling for a long while, trying to decide. Starbrite might have betrayed him years ago by the world's counting, but it was a matter of days and weeks for him.
Truth just breathed in and out, letting his heart slowly calm. He had done scary things his whole life. He had to. The sibs were counting on him. Now, could he do this scary thing for a selfish reason? Could he risk being hurt, even though it might increase the risk to the sibs?
No, that way of thinking wouldn’t work anymore. Even before the betrayal, he was burning himself out. Everybody saw it. He was told, repeatedly and explicitly, to ease up. Find someone. If he had just taken a vacation like a normal person, he wouldn’t have been in that convoy and wouldn’t have gotten killed. It wasn’t greedy to want to trust. It was necessary. Because he couldn’t go on otherwise. He had tried before and failed.
And since it was necessary, he would do it. That’s all. He didn’t have to say yes to everything else. He didn’t have to say yes to anything else. But for tonight, here, in this bed, he would say yes to sleeping with Etenesh. And if she hurt him, he would deal with it. Because he could deal with it. And if he couldn’t? If it just killed him?
Wouldn’t be the first time. He could deal.
He focused on breathing. In and out. In, slowly. Hold. Out, slowly. Hold. Over and over. Trying to still his mind. Just letting himself drift to sleep.
It took him a long while. But he got there.
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As he slept-
“Your answer was no good, my friend. It was obvious once I gave it a moment’s thought.”
“As you lay in bed with Maria, smoking a post-coital cigarette, having run back to her apartment from this very bench.”
“Naturally,” the handsome philosopher looked faintly offended that Truth had felt the need to state something so obvious.
Truth was flicking bits of bread into the air, seeing if the seagulls could catch it on the fly. So far, no. But it was quite good fun to watch them try.
“No, you see, mere hedonism, which is what you propose, is simply another form of intellectual suicide. You give up the struggle with the absurd, allowing the tension to fall. Like a tightrope walker cutting the line beneath his feet.”
“So what if I do give up the struggle? You have already defined life as fundamentally meaningless, hopeless, and doomed to dull repetitions. Like you and I meeting on this bench, sharing some bread.” Truth tore off a hunk and handed it to the philosopher. “Let me die and be happy.”
“Ah, but you see, this is a shallow pleasure, not fit for a true thinker. No, there is an alternative.” He paused, grinning mischievously. “Rebellion!”
“Rebellion? Against what? The fundamental absence of meaning in the universe?” Truth gave him a skeptical look, then ate a chunk of bread. Forget philosophy- who would invent a portable butter dish?
“Exactly that. Live your life with such radical, unrestrained freedom that your life itself is a rebellion against the futility of the world. You discard all trappings of dead ideology, embrace the true nature of existence and find freedom and meaning within. Like the tightrope walker- you may not be going anywhere meaningful, but what a way to get there!”
Truth ate another bite. Then nailed a passing gull with a bit of crust. The bird seemed confused, but not upset, by the unexpected breading.
“Your solution to the absence of meaning in the world, and humanity’s impossible dream of finding connection and meaning in the world, is to rebel by enjoying it? Enjoying that lack of meaning. Enjoying finding our own meaning without outside definition provided by a non-existent god?”
“Exactly!”
“That’s absurd.” Truth scoffed. Then groaned and buried his face in his hands as the philosopher laughed and laughed.
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Truth snapped awake- the System was screaming, which was nice, but he woke because Etenesh had moved. He was instantly hyperaware of her, tracking her movement in the bed. Which was her rolling over away from him. She muttered something softly, snuggled more deeply into bed, then stilled.
The light was streaming in through the window. There were thin gauze curtains, but they just made the light diffuse, not dimmed the luminosity. It should be just after dawn. Truth was debating the virtues of a stealthy escape when Etenesh moved again. This time she slowly sat up and stretched. She seemed a little hesitant to look over, but she eventually turned her head. When she saw Truth lying there, she smiled.
“You weren’t here when I fell asleep. I thought you… weren't ready. I didn’t notice you coming to bed.”
“I am occasionally sneaky.” Truth smiled a little.
“How did it feel?”
“Scary. It took a long while and a lot of thinking to settle down enough to sleep.”
“Oh?” She smiled a little herself. “What thought made you stay?”
Truth was stumped. How did you put all that into words? He waved helplessly and, for once in his life, got lucky.
“I thought about it and decided that you were worth it. Whatever “it” turned out to be.”
Comments
Matthew Bernardin
I laughed hard at him breading the seagull
Al
Most unrealistic part of the story so far: the seagulls were unable to catch the bread out of the air. In my experience, if they've seen you throw up a few pieces they will watch you with a level of focus humans are not capable of just to grab that sweet sweet bread before the other seagulls can.
Baconwargod
No I see the reasoning and believe it to be valid but you gotta pick battles like that very carefully and he just wasn’t careful enough.
Nonnyor Business
This leads us back to Machiavelli as a Florentine patriot- he was looking at an aggressive, expansionist Pope that was absolutely clowning the northern city-states politically and militarily. It might be a bad decision for him personally, but you can see how he would feel an urgent need to warn others of the obvious danger.
Baconwargod
Yeah wasn’t a great political move to go against the leviathan that was the Catholic Church (in Italy no less) at the time. Not his best decision that’s for sure.
Nonnyor Business
One hundred percent agree with this. It was his anti-clericalism that did him in. Suggesting that the smart thing to do was to let the state run the church and appoint clergy immediately got him on a list.
gostsamo
> “I thought about it and decided that you were worth it. Whatever “it” turned out to be.” sometimes a chapter where the mc goes to bed is just worth it. :)
Baconwargod
I love the little interludes of truth talking with the dead philosophers. I especially liked the Machiavelli one but that’s because I’ve always liked him. Mostly because historians did him a great disservice in characterizing him as someone who didn’t give a shit about things like democracy and freedom because they read The Prince without actually trying to understand the historical context in which it was written. Never mind he wrote The Discourses of Livii and said that a republic was the greatest form of government no surely The Prince is more indicative of the man’s true political ideology. It’s not like he had just been tortured and seen a city he devoted his life to conquered. Let’s just ignore all that. I think you characterized him well is what I’m trying to say. Got side tracked for a minute.
