The Daisy Genocide

Looking Directly at the Sun

Sleep never came to me. It never swept me up into its comforting embrace; it never released me from the catastrophic hurricane of thoughts that were driving me to insanity and back. My mouth never opened again, my eyes never closed, my thoughts never ceased. Antonio just held me and was silent himself. The night never ended. We lay there under my blankets and submitted to confusion.

At six o clock, I rose from my bed. The boy's limp arms slid off me when I stood. He woke soon after the relinquish of my warmth, I was shirtless when he lifted his head. "Don't look." I warned in a small voice.

"Should I leave?"

"You promised me the other half, did you not?"

He laughed to himself. "Honestly, I thought you'd want me far away from you."

I looked at him dead-on, my serious gold eyes met the green ones that had already assumed the worse. "How fickle do you perceive my feeling to be? Loving you is not as simple as admiring a fictional character. It cannot be ended with the flip of a page, although, I wish it were that easy."

"You don't hate me?"

"No, I hate you. But I don't love you less."

"Tell me about the hate, please, describe it."

I pulled on a shirt and slowly began the process of buttoning. "The hate? It burns, of course, but it burns only on its kindling. It won't live far too long."

"What is the kindling? What makes you burn?"

"The fact that you waited for my venerable nakedness to tell me, the way that this empire of genetic manipulation has reached into what I believed was pure, and the simple knowledge that the world is ending."

"Ending?"

"Yes, ending. With this technology, eternal life is possible. I always thought that man was naïve to think he had conquered death. I believed that there was hope because nature still ruled this planet but now the tides have turned. Humans, while intelligent, know nothing. They don't know nearly as much as they think they do. Putting them in charge of an entire planet is suicide."

"What hope is there for compassion? Humans are a species that learns and adapts."

"Answer me this. In ten years, a man creates countless bombs and places one on every single planet in all the universes, hoping that, with this technology, he will make Earth the greatest planet of all. Towards the final hours before detonation, he realizes the stupidity of this decision and regrets it terribly. He weeps and screams and begs for the universe to forgive him. Do you think that, in a matter of hours, he can undo years worth of destruction? Do you thing that, if he screams until his throat bleeds, that it will make his words any more powerful? Do you think that decades of sin can be washed away by one prayer?"

He got up as well and fixed the last two buttons on my shirt easily. "As you know, I am believer of lost causes. Of happy endings, of answers that exist without reason. I like to believe in unreasonable things."

I laughed. "I remember."

"An angry person doesn't laugh." He mentioned with a smile.

"I'm laughing because I'm thinking about you with your hands folded together, asking the sky for things you'll never get. I imagine you as a child, asking the clouds for a new pair of shoes."

"Not at all! I believe in perseverance for the right causes at the right times. We will be strongest when strength in needed most! The sun sets so that it can rise at dawn!"

"You've gone soft."

"But it's all true! Humans are stubborn learners but once they make a habit, they keep it! Don't you remember?"

"Remember what?"

"Bite your tongue once and it hurts, bite it again and it stings, bite it again and you weep but bite it once more and you learn to speak carefully." It was a quote from my favorite book, the one named Amelia. Colonel had said that line to Lacey as she cut her hand again on the thorn bush. Eventually, she did learn the delicate care that was required when handling roses. That didn't convince me that humans could save themselves, though.

"When will you give me the other half?" I reminded him. "Before my parents find you here, I hope."

"You won't need to recover? I don't expect you to weather the storm in one try. Maybe I'll tell you a bit tomorrow and a bit on the next day and then-"

"Tell it all to me now and I'll take it piece by piece throughout the day."

He let out a sigh. "That's for the best, I suppose. I wanted to tell you all at once, the whole story. Only… it's a long one." He pulled his shirt over his own chest. The heat in the room diminished by a degree or two. I took a deep breath and gave him my full attention, not nervous of my mother walking in, she was expecting me to be busy preparing myself for my eight o' clock session with the troubled youth.

"There's something that happens." He began. "There's this bank of memories in me that aren't mine, and they make themselves known one by one. The first time it happened, I though I must have just tapped into an unknown wealth of creativity. I told my mother and she scolded me for using my imagination in destructive ways."

"What happened?"

"The first time? I was a tot, only a few feet height, and I was prancing around in the silly way that toddlers do with their friends. Nobody on the reservation ever minds much, the children run around, having their own secret lives, and return home when their mothers order them too. I was one of those children, possibly the most adventurous of my generation. I loved to eat, too. I would have a taste of all the flowers and tree bark I could find. One day, I went to our neighbor's porch, where she used to leave out her milk to cream. Me and my friends, we would secretly dip our fingers in while nobody was looking and eat the top bit. I remember, I was just about to go in for some when I was swept off to this film of an experience not my own. I wasn't even on the reservation, but it was to quick and real to be startling.

I was looking through eyes that weren't mine, they were seeing thing that I never knew of. They watched as a young girl, about my age, maybe a bit younger, clenched her stomach and hurled repeatedly. The original memory-maker, the one I was standing in for, he scolded the sick girl. He had told her before not to leave milk out in the sun. He kept saying that he had told her before, and that –if she had listened- she wouldn't be in this situation. She continued to hurl.

I woke up in only a second. It was so brief, just a spark really. I was so afraid that I kicked over the bucket and sent the thick liquid running all along my neighbor's porch. Needless to say, my mates were angry, the neighbor came out and slapped each of us on the backs of our heads, and my mother ordered that I'd clean that porch every day for a week. I was so sore about the whole situation." He was able to laugh about it now.

"How many times has it happened since?" I asked.

"Countless. I had memories of things that I had only ever read about. I could remember bodies of water so large that ships had to be built to cross them! And I saw concerts, and parties and marriages. They weren't always good memories. Once, it was raining especially hard and I remembered a flood that sucked the air out of so many throats. I was playing with my friends, hiding from the one elected seeker in a shallow trench behind the shrubbery. In one instant, the bushes became rounds of sharp knives. It smelled of rot and mold and blood. I made the mistake of looking around to where the bodies of dead men lay. Rats the size of cats scurried around, swarms of gnats hovered above the lifeless forms and guns, hundreds of them, rattled as they shot countless bullets."

"Oh my god…"

"Don't get me wrong, I knew good memories too. I knew memories of high-rising palaces fast car rides. Bit by bit, I lived lives outside my own. But… I never knew why. I never understood why I had this ability that seemed to be an exclusive privilege."

"Maybe you're delusional. You don't know that any of these things are true memories."

"I hoped that was the truth but when I researched some of these happenings, they checked out. I envisioned an artist once, I saw him paint a piece that I had never seen before! I saw it later in a book, too. I saw a priest who recited a bible verse to me with word-for-word accuracy!"

I was, like I was many other times, at a loss for words. For something like a century, I stood in silence and watched the tan-skinned boy who just waited, lips parted, expecting me to do something. I was kind of angry at him for that. How could he expect me to react after that kind of information? Did he want me to say that I understood because that was a lie. Did he want me to say I was angry with him because I wasn't. I was confused and in love. The combination of those two is a speak impediment.

"I say you once…" He confessed. "In a memory."

"Me? You saw me?"

He nodded and swallowed hard.

"Who's memory?"

I don't know. It…it feels kind of intrusive…"

"What did you see?"

He averted his eyes guiltily, as if he had meant to see into my personal life. "I saw you… years ago, you were so small, really just a little scrap. And…there was a man on the ground, he wouldn't move. And you were just so small, it broke your little heart, I could see…and you cried so hard. I didn't think a little boy could be so sad. It's still here, in my head. I wish it weren't, though. I can't stand that screaming, it's so sad." That was enough for him. He squinted his eyes shut and looked away, my image hurt him.

"His name was Marxi." I said in a whispering voice. "He was my best friend…"

"I had seen him before too. It was one of my favorite memories. I saw him slyly grab a book off the shelf in the library and take it to the back corner where he proudly marked these three lines on the inside cover-"

"Freedom is bliss, death is life, knowledge is strength." I recited, the words forever stored in my memory.

He smiled a bit. "Yeah, that was it."

"What about me? Did you ever see me again?"

"Quite a few times, actually. More than I see anyone else or maybe… I just remember you more. I remember seeing you as a little tot, having a night terror. You woke up fearful and turned to the old dog that was asleep beside your bed and you heaved him up onto your bed with the little strength you had then you curled up next to him and fell asleep. It made me laugh and yet… I felt sorry for the lonely boy. No one was there to stroke your back or groom your head. It was sad, I wanted so badly to scoop you up and do it myself. And I saw later that the lonely tot grew up to be a lonely child who woke himself from bad sleep and looked to no one for comfort… it makes me sad."

"There were more? You saw me more? How much?"

"A few times. But they were all strong memories. Very vivid, full of emotion. For example, I saw you once when I was young. I didn't know it was you at the time, you were barely there. It was snowy. The original memory-maker, the "me", was kicking a boy who had fallen on the ground. He was the same dark-haired activist one, he was tucked into himself, his nose bled. I remember in the corner of my eye. You cried and watched. One of the attackers yelled something at you, and the activist, Marxi, yelled at them to leave you be. He was furious, he cried."

"Then what?" I demanded. I felt myself invigorated, feeling like Marxi was reborn for just a minute.

"I don't have anything else. That's all there was."

"Oh." My eyes fell. "Okay."

"Was that you in the memory?"

I nodded. "It was December, just the beginning. We were walking along and he was telling me a funny story about some president that had lived long ago. I don't remember what it was, but it was funny and we were both laughing." My own memories came back to me, bringing me fondness and pain. I remembered that day. Him strolled along, his hands jammed into the pockets of his crumby knit jacket. He was a tall, lean, boy with pale skin and unforgettable blue eyes.

"Did you love him?"

"Is this jealousy I see?"

"Just wondering…"

I thought. When I thought about Marxi, I saw his rebellious spirit, his quirked smile, his stringy black hair, his thirst for knowledge. When I thought about Antonio, the first thing that came to mind was that gentle smile followed by the emerald eyes that pierced through mine without any trouble at all. I saw the way he admired my fight, his child-like, leg-crossed sitting style. I saw him hold up a book enthusiastically and treat it like a precious treasure. I saw him hold my hand with confidence and later, he held my entire body closely beside his. Lastly, I heard his rich laugh, making my heart race. "I loved him." I concluded. "But not the same way I love you. I loved him in the way that I wanted to follow him and make him smile. With you, it's not a matter of want but need. I need to follow you or the emptiness is crippling. I need to make you smile because when I can't see it, I relapse and insanity follows . It's an addiction?"

He nodded, a shy smile on his blushing face. He gives praise so easily but can't take it. I loved that about him. "You're without trousers." I mentioned. He blushed harder and found them buried under the sheets. "To think, you were the one who claimed himself to be a gentleman." I teased.

"But I am a gentleman!"

"Gentlemen leave when asked."

"But you haven't-"

"Please leave."

"Are you angry with me?"

"No." I answered with a smile to reassure him. "But I have an appointment to make and in all honestly, I need to think. Alone."

"But you wouldn't send me away without a kiss, would you?"

"I think I would. I might."

"You would kiss me if I were dying though."

"Well, it's a good thing you're in perfect health."

"Am I!? I think not! Look at me again and this time, look closer. Tell me what you see."

"I see a horridly romantic boy leaning against my window, in danger of falling out of said window."

"Not only that. If you look closer, you will see that I am actually dying at an infinitesimally slow rate. Blink your eyes and you will miss nothing but blink them a million times and I may very well be gone. You see, I haven't the slightest idea how long I will live. I've managed it for nineteen years now and to me, that sounds like I've only managed to put off the inevitable for nineteen years. Who's to say that the kiss you're about to give me, and you will give it to me, will not be last? Keep I mind, I do not have the luxury of promising you a tomorrow."

"Are you trying to threaten me with your own life?"

"If you see it as a threat, then yes, I suppose I am."

I smirked. "I'm sorry but, after all, I'm just a child. I wouldn't know how to kiss an adult like you."

"Me? An adult? Hah! Never!"

"If your are not an adult nor a child, then what do you call yourself?"

"A dying man who yearns for his vice."

"His vice?" I moved closer to him. "I'm listening."

"Poetry is my expertise."

"Go ahead then, woo me. Or at least, try."

"Alright. To my dearest Lovino: You are so small." He laughed. "Born small? Maybe. Grew small? Possibly. Lived small? Never. You have never showed any intention to live a centimeter less than Socrates and Aristotle. You do not see yourself fit for anything but exactly what you deserve. That is what I love most about you."

"I don't see that as poetry so much as an attempt at flattery."

"It didn't work?"

"It was closer."

"How about this then? A boy and another boy in the woods, meeting each other for the first but also hundredth time. It is like an infant meeting the world. Though they treasured the warm silence of the womb, they cannot turn away from the world once they have laid eyes on it. They-"

I fulfilled his wish for the pleasure of shutting him up. His mouth ran like nobody had ever seen. If I never kissed him, my life would be completely filled with these spontaneous poems. It was really more for myself than him. We parted, his childlike smile still slipped over his face. "I really shouldn't pity you so." I told him. "You don't obey any of the standard courtship procedures."

"Procedures?"

"Yes. It may be all willy-nilly on the reservation, people mating like rabbits and all, but here there are rules so that courtship is patient and careful."

"Hah! I laugh in the face of rules! But you'll tell these silly rules to me so that I may court you like a proper gentleman."

"First of all, you do not visit your "Dimidium" at their home until month two and you certainly do not get into their bed." People had stopped using the words boyfriend and girlfriend long ago, too objective.

"That aside, tell me how I start."

"Start? Well… you meet the person… then propose courtship to the dimidium and if accepted, you make an official declaration to the legal guardians."

"So complicated! I don't have time to follow this silly process!"

"It's not silly! It's my culture!"

"Fine. How long does the whole debacle take?"

"Anywhere from five to fifteen years."

"Jesus!"

"What!? I suppose on the reservation, they just open their legs and wait for someone to come by! If that's what you're accustomed to, keep it your pants. Sorry to disappoint you."

He became upset with my remark. "Those are lies spread in the city! I may come to your bed and hold your body but I wouldn't dare defile you, it's not like that. Naturals are the same as pomaigs, no more barbaric. We, too, have a courting process. Granted, it doesn't take so horridly long and I'm sure it's not so stiff but it is honored."

"As do we here. The length ensures a quality relationship. A commitment like that greatly decreases the amount of broken-hearted people moping about. Imagine, if people could just sleep around, steal hearts, and run off like dirty thieves. Our system protects those gullible, pathetic people who fall in love so easily. "

His hand gripped mine with firm strength. "Is that what you're worrying about? That I'm not here for commitment? That I would take advantage of you and back out on all our plans?"

"I didn't say that."

"Lovino, you don't understand how easy you are to read." Arms wrapped around me slowly. "Tell me what is you want me to do." He whispered into my neck. "Tell me the rules, I'll follow them, I promise. Whatever it is that makes you feel comfortable."

"I guess… you could declare courtship." He released me from his hold.

"Of course! I hereby declare courtship!"

"Idiot, that's not how you do it. You have to… I'll show you." I went over to my dresser and found the thin faded blue ribbon that I had found in the dirt when I was younger. "I, Lovino Vargas, second son of Lucy and Domenico Vargas , would like to formally propose courtship to you, Antonio…"

"-Fernandez Carriedo."

"Fernandez Carriedo, son of whoever your parents are. I will now present you with this ribbon of blue, symbolizing a bond between us to be pursued for the hopes of marriage. Do you accept?"

"What do I do with it?"

"I don't know. Usually, the girl will use it to tie back her hair and the boy will string it to his belt loop. We haven't had a gay man here in… over forty years and he never partnered. Belt loop I guess?"

He put it on with a smile. "I don't have one to give you right now but I'll be back tonight. Can I bring you one then?"

"Sure. That's not even my real one."

"What?"

"I found it. Everybody gets one at birth and when the child hits puberty, it's given to them and the nature of reproduction is explained. Mine's downstairs, we have a special box for it but my parents would kill me if I gave it to you. Besides, I think they're going to give it away real soon."

"Why?"

"If a child is having a long streak of rebellious behavior, parents will usually try to marry them off pretty quickly. Marriage really settles someone down, y'know?"

"You're getting married!?"

"Courting! I'll probably be courting a girl soon."

"Don't you have any say in this!?"

"What does it matter? Saying no will raise suspicion and saying yes will be a good way to buy time for a month."

"But still-"

"It's fine." I touched his cheek softly, an unusual sign of affection. "It's fine, it's fine, I promise." I pressed a kiss on his forehead and with my other hand, I pushed his chest teasingly against the window. "You better get out of here, boy, before my mother wonders who I'm talking to."

He finally gave in and smiled. "I'm going to be keeping my eye on you. Don't let some stranger hold your hand and please do not bore them with your talk of human rights and unsynthesized happiness."

"I believe you're the only person on this Earth who is actually interested in listening to my hateful rambling."

"How could I not be? I find boredom in the girl who thanks god for her daily bread and complains about nothing. I love the way you expose the truth with righteous valor, how you know that you are meant for more than this mediocre life. I love your stubbornness, I love your unwillingness to give up a better future, your unwillingness to be subservient to anyone."

"Hush! I'm not letting you stay a minute longer, your flattery is useless." I pulled him far enough away from the window so that I could open it and usher him out.

"Oh, my cruel Lovino. Do you think you might make your way down to the birch trees by noon? I'd pack a lunch for you and me, a good one that you'd like very much."

"Away!" I cried.

"Bid me farewell with Shakespearian poetry, my fair!"

"Out!"

"Curse at me with the words of Salinger, my love!"

"Be gone, you parasite! Nuisance of the worst kind!"

"Oh, my sweet! I long for-" I shut him up by pulling down the glass pane that created a sound barrier between us. He preached on for the next few minutes, despite my eye-rolling, but I stood and watched him for the humor of it.

I smiled as I watched the fool but I could only do it half-heartedly. My mind was still gripped in the haunting confession that he had made last night. But I smiled for him and took steady breaths, not alerting him of the stiffness in my spine and the cold sweat beading on my neck. The uneasiness was something I felt most of my days. Nature was flipped onto its back and forced into submission and we were the product of this endless war between man and forces stronger than man. Everything was wrong. The blood that ran through my veins was poison, every rule of the cosmos forbade my existence. Antonio too. In what seemed like simple innocence was housed a universe-shattering secret.

My bones ached. They ached because they were never meant to be in my body. They were a sin. An evil-doing. A crime committed by the humans. They ached and as I watched Antonio press a quick kiss to the glass before leaving, they ached even more for his sake.

I couldn't finishing dressing myself, I was too consumed wallowing in the same depression that consumed most of my thoughts. I wondered if I was selfish for wanting to live. Every breath I took was stolen from my poor brother and every moment I stood on this planet, I only worsened the damage. I should be doing what I can to cushion the blow, take one less sin from the debt. For the longest time, I wasn't even alive. There was no record of a Lovino Vargas on anyone's tongue, I was just another organism wandering around in my heard. Antonio was the one who changed that. He was the one who remembered me and defined me from my brother. He was the one who made me someone of value, an individual, not just a clone. Antonio was the one who gave me something to lose. If alcohol were legal, I'd probably drink some just about then.

I had my fill of depression after a few minutes and decided that I had other things to attend to. I groomed myself as expected, a neatly pleated blouse tucked into smooth, black trousers. I put on my nice leather loafers, one of three pairs of shoes that I owned along with my day sneakers and house slippers. My hair was combed, my teeth brushed and my pleasing features evaluated. It's a good thing to do, my father used to do it for me when I was younger but now it's something I decide for myself.

First, you consider the overall symmetry of the face. Nine. My face had always been especially appealing, people said it was a kind of beauty give only by true nature and that a luck like mine could be found in no ark. It had earned me both admiration and teasing as a child but my father had advised me to take pride in it because someday, it would be as handsome as his.

Eye color next, one. My worst feature. Father had always said that eyes should have a decided color, that was most beautiful. My eyes had not one but six or seven or twelve colors in them, possibly some of the worst eyes ever conceived. My father had blue eyes, light blue, clear and steady. Just blue. Mine, like Antonio had pointed out, could very well have contained a whole universe. Unruly, unstable, imperfect.

Nose, 7. Very regular. Mouth, 5. My teeth were straight but my lips were pale and because of that, seemed feminine. Cheeks, 5, still ripe with baby fat. Overall, a fine young man if not slightly slow to mature. Father walked me to the gathering hall when the time was right. Inside the hall, chairs were set up for the youth to sit in and think about all the rotten things they had done. The leader, Mrs. Digny, was obviously a natural. Her physique ran heavy, her left eye grey with cataracts, her hair thinning in a small crown around her head. She hadn't the money to have those things touched up in a lab or the genetics to prevent them. I took a seat quietly.

The girl who sat beside me was enveloped in her own activities as if she were the only person in existence. She stared down at an image she was sketching with complete oblivion As I watched her, I couldn't help but feel that I had seen her before. Her pale, round, face and her long, thick, lashes both called out to me with striking resemblance. But to who!? Thick, wavy, brown hair and long, thin, neck. I knew her from somewhere!

I watched her scribble away with pen on her small heap of papers. "You seem familiar." I mentioned in a hushed voice, looking for a reason to strike up a conversation. Her bright face lifted and she giggled ever so slightly.

"You're right, I am familiar. But I'm not in the business of reminding people what they ought to have remembered. Take a guess, where do you think you know me from?"

I studied her face. "The library? Maybe?"

She laughed at the idea. "Not even once! You're such a stickler for books! I remember how people would complain that you'd read all day and that it wasn't the slightest bit interesting."

"The pool, then."

"Never been there."

"What? Why? Everybody swims at the pool!"

"I didn't. I refused to stay in the woman's pool, I always wanted to go play with the boys but mother said I couldn't so I refused the sport altogether."

It hit me. "Rosalind! I remember you!"

She laughed her charming little laugh. "Nice to see you again, Lovino."

"It's been so long, a few years, I think."

She nodded. "After what happened to Marxi, you shut everyone out. I guess you just didn't want any more friends."

"No… I just…"

"Needed time to heal. I understand." She glanced me over. "You were shorter when I last saw you, you looked so much more like Feliciano. It's nice to see that you've adapted an identity of your own."

"What an odd thing to say…"

She sighed. "I know, I know. I'm crazy, that's why the send me here. They say I have an identity crisis when it's the complete opposite. I want an identity. Unlike the original Rosalind, I haven't a scientific bone in my body. I have pictures in my head, that's the hand I was dealt. I make art."

"Can I see?" I glanced over the paper on her lap where her hand remained poised with a pen.

"Of course." She gingerly picked them up and handed them to me. Almost instantley, I became aware of the lack of clothes on the subjects. Nudes, I believe they're called. She took notice of my bafflement and took them from me with a smile.

"I'm not ashamed to draw humans in their nakedness. I shouldn't be, it's the skin we're all born with and because of that, I find it the purest form of our existence. I like to draw people like this because there isn't fear. No one's afraid of themselves, no one's threatened by their neighbors, no one is secretive or greedy. These are the kinds of humans that I wish we could all be."

"Naked?"

"No." She laughed. "Just bare. Bare of our shields."

"You know… you're going to get in trouble. You can't just make pictures of naked people here, not with people watching."

She looked around the room. "I'm already in trouble, I don't mind tempting fate a bit more."

"You are crazy."

"But so are you. I saw how you read, you love the written word. I saw how you followed Marxi's every footstep, how you admired him so. You are the rebel, the joker. I wouldn't be surprised if you were over that fence by the end of the week." She touched my bandaged hand that I had almost forgot about. "And your father knows, I see. He's always been the kind for harsh punishments, one and done, that's his way. My mother never did more than smack my rump but Jill's mom, you know Jill, she was the more typical parent. Usual things, slap to the wrists, hair pulling, ice baths. Burning is rare, it takes too long to heal."

I shushed her incessant blabbering with a sense of panic. "Wait- You know about the fence?"

"Of course."

"How?"

"I went into the reservation for paints."

"You went in?"

"Yes."

"Don't you know you couldn't been caught!?"

"Relax, Lovino. I wore a scarf on my head like one of the natural girls. They didn't suspect a thing."

"I can't believe you!"

She laughed to herself, unoffended by the rudeness of my tone. "Mr. Vargas, don't think I don't know exactly what you're planning. Vargas has always been one who hungers for adventure and seeing that you're tall enough to climb over now, I'm sure there's not a minute that passes that you don't plan your escape."

"I'd feel a lot more comfortable if you stopped such talk or even just kept your voice down."

"So it's true?"

"No." I lied.

"Who is your ally? You must have one. Spare the name!"

"I don't! Please, Rosalind, silence yourself."

"Okay, alright." She smiled knowingly. Damn her, I never remembered her being so sneaky. But, I suppose, I recall her being an especially vocal young girl, always wanting to get her way and fussing when she didn't. "Have I embarrassed you? Your face is red." She chuckled. "Always red, even when you were young. I remember teasing you, saying you were a fevered baby. Y'know? Always red-faced, always thinking about a girlie he fancies. Is there a girlie you think about, Lovino?"

"No."

"Never been one for romantic affairs, have you?"

"No."

"You never notice a girl teasing you in that way that young girls tease young boys?"

"Girls like you are a danger to be teased by."

"Me? I'm not teasing you, boy. You're too cute for my like. Did you see this?" She pulled away her collar a bit to reveal the silver ribbon tied around her neck.

"I see you've found someone tolerant enough for schemes like yours. I don't know how you managed."

"It was my parents. They thought I should start courting, maybe be a woman of family since science never took to me. They found Jacob for me. He's the stiffest boy you've ever met. He keeps his hair combed back and his spine straight, he's funny, he really is. And I need him. He keeps me tied down, Y'know? He's good for me."

I knew but I didn't tell. I held my tongue tight, careful not to say a word about the boy who remembers. "I suppose I'll start courting soon too."

"That poor girl better be prepared to have her heart broken."

"You misjudge me."

"No, I know exactly who you are. You're a gentle one, softer than a lamb but you protect yourself with your bitter temper and god knows that no chains could ever hold you down."

"Maybe I'll find myself a girl who likes just that."

"Judging by the light in your eyes, I'd say you already have."

My face became flushed just in time for to interrupt. "Please children, I'd like to have your attention now." She called.

She smiled a pudgy little smile and clasped her hands together. "Now, I'm , I'll be you counselor for the next hour and a half. I want you all to feel safe here, we won't judge you. I'll start by introducing myself." She continued by reciting her sad life story in which she was bullied for her imperfections as a child so she put on weight and became a very bitter teenager who then committed several crimes like destruction of property and swearing. I had a feeling we weren't on the same boat. I, on one hand, I was reading illegal literature, housing a non city-registered natural who was not formally courting me in my bed and scheming to undermine the whole community while she had reduced to petty theft.

She asked us to go around in the circle and introduce ourselves. The reason we sat in a circle was because, if someone started crying, we could all see them clearly and realize how crumby this whole thing was. Anyways, the introductions proceeded. I didn't know anyone other than Rosalind so I didn't bother to pay much attention until it finally came to my turn. I stood. "Hello, My name is Lovino Vargas."

"Could you tell us something interesting about yourself?" prompted.

That was a hard one. "There isn't anything much interesting about me." I decided.

"Now, Mr. Vargas, that's not true! Just think of something, something you like, something you made, a fun story?"

Everything special about me was either illegal or granted to me by a certain green-eyed boy. "My brother is dead." I finally said. In this society, that's what people remember, it's always followed by an awkward silence so I take the opportunity to explain. "My parents commissioned me instead because they thought I would fill his place and it would be like he never died but he did die so that plan was flawed from the very beginning. Now I'm here because they don't like the Feliciano I turned out to be." No one ever knows what to say after that so I sat back down.

"Well… … thank you for your…feelings." Needless to say, she moved on rather quickly. Rosalind was the first to shoot me a teasing glare.

"Now, , let's not be so forward with our feelings." She mocked in a whisper.

"Mind your own." I scolded.

She buried a laugh in her hand and went on watching the procession. I ignored the rest of it. Mrs. Dingy would ask a question like, "Could someone share a time they disobeyed their parents and then felt sorry about it afterwards?" or "Would anybody like to tell us of a time when they lied or withheld information from a friend and it hurt the relationship?" Some poor say would own up, sobbing, and recall a memory of pathetic proportions. This went on until half of us were planning their suicide and the others were rubbing backs of their crying comrades.

It ended later than expected, much later. I had time to stop off at home, tell my parents that I was cured, then run back out to meet with my secret dimidium for a lunch that I was not legally obligated to consume. Never the less, he was there waiting, even when I arrive fifteen minutes late. "You had me worried." He said in greeting as he spread jam over bread. I sat down beside him on the blanket he had laid down.

"You? Worried? I hardly believe that."

"It's true. I worry about those politia, I don't like them one bit."

"Nobody does."

"For good reason. They follow their own rules, very shady people. One day, I'll have no idea where you are and I'll just to assume that they did something with your remains."

"That day is not today." I reached for a piece of bread, ready to take my first bite when a tan hand stopped it.

"Woe there, you're not ready for that. You stomach has been going on sanitary liquids for years. The goal is just to work you into solids, get you to keep something down. This is for you." He handed me a slightly deluded bottle of water.

"What is it?"

"Exactly what it looks like, a slightly deluded bottle of water."

"No shit. What did you put in it to delude it?"

"That one's peach, it's a fruit. I squeezed some of the juice in it."

"Are there others?"

"Mostly just peach, it's in season right now. I have one that's water from the river and also one with mint."

I took the bottle. "Oh yeah? So how long do you think I'll be drinking pulp?"

"A week maybe. Then it's mash and bread for you."

"Can I have just a bite of your bread?"

"You'll throw it up."

"Can I just taste it?"

His lips smashed against mine, delivering the bitter and sweet sensation that came with the jam. I made a disgusted face when he pulled away but I was actually enthralled by the new sensation that trickled up my tongue. My taste buds were so unused that what I was able to get from just a second-hand taste was explosive. I felt every flavor of the thick, purple spread. It stung, but it also comforted. I rubbed against my lips over and over my lips to savor the new world Antonio had provided. "What do you call it?"

"Toast."

"I mean the spread."

"Boysenberry. It's a rather bitter-"

He never got to finish, I was addicted. I grabbed his head and hungrily searched his mouth for more, learning and discovering new sensations that I had never known existed. He protested with a startled umph but accepted soon enough and let me have my way. I let go of him when I realized that I wasn't breathing and I really should be. The boy blushed. " More" I demanded stubbornly. "Give me your bread."

"Don't you think someone would catch on if you threw up solid matter? Stick with your water bottles for now, they taste good too. Though… if you want to kiss…"

I ignored him for favor of unscrewing the bottle and taking a deep chug. The flavor was there but it was subtle. Not as potent as the jam that I still yearned for. I got half the bottle down before capping it. Antonio asked what I thought of it and I told him just how disappointed was.

"Tell you what. It'll eat lots of yummy things and we can make out all day!"

"Tell your nasty fantasies to someone else."

"They're not nasty!"

"Shut up, just keep it to yourself." I began to drink again just out of frustration.

"How was therapy today?"

"It's not therapy, it's a support group or something."

"How was it?"

"Awful."

"You didn't make any friends? Did you even try?"

"I talked to this one girl."

"Is it the girl you'll be leaving me for?"

"No, she's already got a ribbon. Plus, she's a bit of a chatterbox, and she asks too many questions."

"I see… you won't replace me though, right?"

"Sure, whatever."

"And you won't make them fall in love with you?"

"Gee, I'll really try." I spat sarcastically.

"You're more charming than you realize."

"Only to you. Haven't we had this discussion already?"

"I just like listening to you talk."

"Well, I'd love to appease you but my parents are on watch. I said I was going to check out a few books at the library so I should probably get going."

"So soon? I miss your face when you're gone."

I stuck my fingers in my mouth and contorted my face up into a hideous mess. "There, now you don't have much to miss."

"I'm serious! I've never known a face that's beautiful like yours, that didn't come out of a test tube, I know it. It's like, even if my eyes are closed, you're right there, smiling your sneaky little smile. I think I'm insane half of the time. It can't be normal to be so infatuated with a person, to remember their hair and teeth and ears with perfect detail but it's those things that never leave me. " The boy peeked his grass-green eyes down to his lap and quirked a smile under a thin blush that was currently arising.

All of the blood in all of my veins found a way up to my face. "W-What the hell do you want?"

"Just to spend more time with you. I want to listen to you rant then go home and decipher for the rest day the deepness of the things you say."

"W-walk me home then… I don't care… I can't promise any magical epiphany though."

"I'd be honored." He hooked his arm in mine and I quickly pulled it out.

"Not like that, idiot! Some one will see!"

"But Lovi!"

"NO. We have to keep our eyes out. They know already, I'm sure of it. Lets just stay low, okay? You don't know what those politia will do. "

"They wouldn't take me away for escorting you home, that's silly."

"You don't know what they'll do. Maybe they'll shave your head, take your name, and throw you in a curvus camp so you can work until your flesh rots off your bones. Those people don't have laws to follow, don't ever think that they won't do something just because it's unethical"

"Hey, hey, relax. Alright, fine. I won't lay a finger on you, I promise, don't worry. But I'm going to stop by tonight."

"What for? That's just begging for trouble."

Antonio loud out a loud grumble of frustration. "I have to see you sometime. There's only so much caution that I can take." He collected the last of his things and we began to walk.

"What if my neighbor reports of a strange boy climbing through my window? What's worse, what if that stupid police man stops by and realizes that you don't have a chip?"

"You worry so much!"

"There's a lot to worry about!"

"Okay, in dooms day scenario I'll just… borrow a fake chip. I'll tape it under my sleeve, no one will ever know."

"Do you think there's just boxes of free chips laying around?"

He gave me a confused face. "Of course… you don't know?"

"Know what?"

"Have you ever seen a chip?"

"No…"

"There these small little blue pieces of hardware. The door across the hall from yours, the dark one, I got a peek inside and there were heaps of 'em."

"Wait! The room with the computer screens in it?" Father's office?

"Yeah. The door was a bit open and I saw them just sitting there. Dozens. No one would notice if I borrowed just one. It would be like having a cool alter-ego, don't you think? Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, known to the city as Sammy Jamerson!"

"That's my dad's office. I have no idea why those are there or what they're used for, I don't even know what his fuck'n job is! You can't. Too dangerous."

He chuckled. "And everything else we've done is any more legal?"

"It's not a matter of legality! The things I've seen in that room… I don't even know what they are. It's not normal, it's something dark, something that I've chosen ignorance over curiosity for."

"What did you see?"

"I don't even know…" I was afraid to tell him because I just knew he'd poke his nose into it; he doesn't know when to stop. All of the entries, talking about subjects and treatments… that self-righteous bastard wouldn't be able to help himself. I had decided to just not think about it rather than waste the energy on something that would bring me only pain. Antonio didn't know the difference, everything was a noble cause to him. I couldn't tell him.

"Was it about you?" This is because of you. I remembered my father's words, the ones that tore at my curiosity the most. The ones that temped me.

"I'm not talking about it, Antonio."

"Was it that bad?"

I stopped walking and stood before him sternly, forcing his to watch me exclusively. "Listen to me, Toni." He nodded. "Do not go into that room, do not look at it, do not think about it. It's bad, that's all you need to know. Resist it just until we can leave. I swear, if you so much as touch the door, I will throw myself out a window. Got it?"

"Okay, got it." He whimpered.

"Okay." I turned front-face and continued on walking.

"You called my Toni…" Came a small chuckle from behind.

"What?"

"You called me Toni." He repeated.

"So? Fuck, is that the only thing you got from that?"

"No, sorry! I heard it all just…I dunno. It feels special to have a nickname."

"Come on, it's not like no one's ever called you Toni before."

"True but it's different because it's you."

"It's impressive how stupidly romantic you are."

"You'll call me Toni again, won't you? I'd like it if you did. But, only when you really mean it."

"We'll see. Don't get your hopes up."

"My hopes are officially raised to the level up."

"You're an idiot."

And he responded by saying that it wasn't his fault that his childhood wasn't as obsessively dedicated to studying as mine was and I told him that there were plenty of opportunities to study if he wanted to. The rest was just mindless ramble between the two of us until we reached my house. Of course, we went around the back. "See you tonight then." He confirmed.

"I wish you wouldn't."

"You can't stop me."

"I can shoot you." His carefree smile flattened instantly.

"You don't have a gun, do you?"

"No."

"Does you father?"

"Please, Antonio, don't you think you'd be dead already if he did?"

His smile slowly returned. "See you tonight."

"Fine, whatever. Tonight. Just don't get caught."

"I won't."

"I know. As much as I hate to admit it, you're just too sneaky."

"Like a monkey."

"Yes, like a monkey. A very ugly and stupid monkey."

"Hey!" I couldn't help a laugh from escaping. He was charming in a way that was so hard to fight. "See you tonight." He said one last time. "Keep your window unlocked."

"See you tonight." I pecked his lips before he left, letting him think it was an especially romantic way of saying goodbye when in reality, I was searching his lips for just a little remnant of boysenberry jam.