The institute was an unimpressive building. All architectural feats had been concentrated in faerie city, around structures that centered on magical pursuits. The institute had been built as an afterthought, science entirely subordinate to the supernatural. It was a pragmatic building, shaped like a concrete box, and weighed heavily into the cloud around it. We used to joke about how the building was built to eventually fall from Faerieland to the infertile, hostile habitat below—until the physics majors inspected the building's designs and found that this was eerily possible if we hadn't built supports in time.
Only a few lights were on—while experiments were typically conducted at night, those feats were reserved for the weekends, when everyone could attend. I came on weekdays mostly for research—to tear through dusty, enormous volumes of our few ancestors that dared to walk the unbeaten path of technology. I was currently working on a bio-engineering project that we would be testing on Feepits in a few weeks, and it was my job to make sure I had the procedure laid out and tweaked the formula enough to ensure the Feepits a minimal amount of harm.
I explained this to Hoshi as I led her inside, after convincing her to leave her knit bag locked away in the Moltenore's trunk. She seemed appalled that we should be testing on Feepits, but as I gently elaborated that Feepits regenerated themselves easily and that we only picked Feepits from the pound, giving them an excellent home thereafter, Hoshi seemed less stricken. Still, once I had swiped my way past security and had made it to the Feepit cages, she demanded that I let one of the speckled creatures out so she could hold it. I let her have to her pick, and she pointed to a plump one with yellow eyes, half-awake from our entrance.
While she coddled the Feepit with infant noises, I guided her down a maze of corridors until I finally arrived at my portion of the lab. I urged Hoshi into gloves and a lab coat that were hanging on the hook outside the door while she stayed focused on the Feepit, forcing myself to practically suit her up manually. Once I had placed my lab coat on as well, I opened the door, a blast of steam hitting me as soon as I opened it.
With Hoshi trailing behind me, a center of my brain immediately kicked into seriousness. Science research, especially around chemicals, had nothing childish about it. If a chemical was spilled on skin, said skin risked immediate and permanent injury—that was no laughing matter. But it wasn't just the inherent danger that lurked in the glass beakers that turned lightheartedness to stone. Science was something of a religion to me, and in this context the lab became my temple, a place of somber and devout occasions.
"Frank, I can't see anything in here. Why is it so foggy?" Hoshi complained from behind. I could feel her hand fanning through the smoke behind me, trying to forge a clear path. The Feepit in her hands made horrible squealing noises and I grimaced—I had never had affection for those little annoyances.
"It's supposed to be. This protects some of the chemicals from reacting with oxygen too quickly," I replied, moving my way to the chemical safe in the back. I moved so naturally through the smoke, having memorized the lab after years of navigating it, that at first I was frustrated at Hoshi's inability to keep up with me. Finally, after realizing that it was her first time through the shrouded maze, I slowed my pace adequate enough for her to keep up.
As I opened the safe with a six-number code, I warned Hoshi not to touch anything she saw, even if I was handling it. She nodded solemnly—she seemed to sense the critical nature of the chemicals I handled even without my explaining their hazardous nature. The fact that many of them came in containers labeled with a grim looking skull on them certainly helped to deter her.
The main creation I was working on was contained in a small box with a number of test tubes in them. Each test tube housed a small portion of the chemical, identical in each. A vat of this compound was contained elsewhere if I needed any for further testing, but to use more would be unnecessary and amateur. The very essence of science was not to use excessive quantities—only the prescribed amount in the written experiment was to be used.
Thankfully for Hoshi, this was not a day where Feepits were prepared for the experiment. (They were still undergoing a rigorous diet and exercise program, however, to get them in various amounts of health for a certain independent variable. The one Hoshi held was the Feepit kept purposefully out of shape and regularly stuffed with food; this explained its chubby, cuddly nature.) Instead, I was adding a new element to the mixture today to see how it reacted. All things accounted for, the hypothesis was that the addition of this element would only created a catalyst for the chemical, making the solution's components mix faster. This would do wonders for the experiment, as it had been calculated that the solution's components would take months to mature and blend completely; with the added catalyst, the solution could be ready in half that time.
When Hoshi inquired as to how this potion was to affect her now-beloved Feepit, I explained—while multi-tasking to add the catalyst, observe its reaction and carefully document it qualitatively—that it was a type of steroid, meant to increase magical abilities. Feepits were distinctly magicless creatures, despite being inhabitants of Faerieland's mountains. If the steroid worked correctly, the Feepit would be granted powers that would enable it to more readily access food, teleport from danger, and possibly fly.
"We've been working some kinks out of it, though," I elaborated, squinting at the slight foam forming at the brim of one of the test tubes. "We're still trying to find how to translate physical steroids into magical—if it can be done at all. In theory, this chemical should work … but many things work in theory that are absolutely ridiculous. Like the 'we can't move anywhere' theory."
"What's that?"
"Basically, it postulates that we shouldn't be able to move, for to get to one place to another, you have to walk half the distance, then half the distance of that—and you could, theoretically, always get half the distance, but never actually achieve the specified distance. But clearly this isn't true."
I explained this flippantly, and Hoshi stared at me strangely, apparently not following. I sighed loudly. "I'll help you through it later. Right now, I've got to focus on this."
Thankfully, Hoshi was more than willing to be part of a makeshift audience of her and the Feepit. I labored under their gaze, feeling a sort of power in their presence; they were fascinated by the slightest bursts of gas and responded with applause, whether it was an appropriate burst or not. There was a perverted sense of superiority that overcame me in front of the, a wizard of a distinctly different sort. Their ignorance was a tool they placed in my hand every time they admitted the holes in their knowledge—and it was impossible for me to not peek through these peep holes without a sensation of dominance, reveling the knots I could wrest from their control.
My performance soon ended, though, and I placed the test tubes back in the safe, twirling the combination lock as a sort of garnish to the end of my show. An unfortunate dumb grin now reigned over Hoshi's face, the Feepit dancing around her feet having escaped her arms. I rolled my eyes and picked up the Feepit by the scruff, immediately gaining Hoshi on my tail in protest as I walked to put the Feepit back in its cage.
"Frank, no! I want to keep him!"
"Sorry," I consoled, shoving the furball behind bars with a protesting 'Feep!' "He's a man committed to science."
"More like a prisoner of science!" moaned Hoshi, poking at her Feepit friend from behind the bars.
"Look," I groaned, exiting the door. Hoshi trailed after me, still complaining about the Feepit's captive status. I took of my labcoat, goggles, and gloves, hanging them on the hook, instructing Hoshi to do the same. "It's not my fault that Mr. Feepits decided to go into the net when we needed test subjects. And do you really want to take care of Feepits? They shed everywhere."
"Yes," pouted Hoshi.
"You just want a pet with undying love."
"What's so wrong with that?" threw back Hoshi.
"It's so insincere! If something's bred to love you, then it's got nothing to do with free will." This concept seemed to fly straight over Hoshi's head as well, and I gave another aggravated sigh. "Look, I've got a Meepit at home. You can play with that if you want."
"You do!" Hoshi's eyes momentarily lit up with delight, then faded to a confused glow. "What's a Meepit?"
"It's kind of like a Feepit, only it's got shorter, pink fur and doesn't shed."
"Why didn't I see it this morning?"
"They're nocturnal."
"Where do they come from?"
"I'm not sure, actually. He just sort of showed up at my stoop one day, and scrambled in my house. There's not much you can do once he's inside. They've got these weird eyes … kinda eerie, actually. They can hypnotize people if they want to—maybe that's why I started feeding him. But watch out for that."
"I can't wait to meet him."
"Don't get too excited."
Our fly home was relatively uneventful, though Hoshi kept obsessing over the Feepit, demanding that I let her visit it again. I lied in compliance to quiet her. After that was capped off with a strategic fib, she began complaining about how there was nothing to do tonight. I admitted to her that I often stayed in to read—declining to mention that's when Meep emerged to nervously sit in my lap—but the coming Friday Kasey and the Sloths had a show. She immediately burst into peals of excitement, demanding to know which venue and for me to take her there. I told her I would take her there on Friday, but for the time being I was staying in.
I ignored her pleas as we landed at my house, parking the Moltenore. As I opened the door, I gently informed her that if she had no desire to participate in my nighttime relaxation rituals, she could wander Faerie City herself—I wasn't her master, after all. She took sensitively to this comment, and told me that I could stick my boring head in a few choice locations before storming off. I was more amused than insulted by her coarse language; it seemed so ludicrous coming from her perpetually moistened lips—barbs tumbling from an angel's mouth.
My homecoming was announced by Meep standing directly behind the front door, staring at me sideways with a single eye. While I was never positive of what this intense expression was meant to communicate, it always compelled me to throw some cereal into Meep's feeding bowl and curl into bed with a sedative book. This I did promptly upon entering the house, shedding my clothing to my boxers and I crawled into bed.
An interim passed where the house was creepily silent, and then Meep would nose open the door and deposit its body in my lap. Despite his petite size, Meep always weighed very heavily on my lap, and nose urgently at the pages of whatever I happened to be reading. The conscious gesture was a hybrid of cute and creepy, and it made me wonder whether those unblinking eyes housed a flurry of thought behind them. Yet even when I offered Meep the pages for viewing, he quickly fell asleep before them, as if instantly bored.
Once Meep had fallen asleep and I had eased him off my lap to a pillow, I finally had no witnesses. Sneaking to my record player, I slipped a London Calling LP onto the turn table and set on the needle. Cranking up the volume, I abandoned intellectual pursuits and head-banged to guilty pleasure until fatigue set in.
The next morning I awoke with hair in my mouth.
Coughing it out in alarm, I sat up straight in bed, my back stiff in shock. Beside me lay Hoshi, stinking of beer and Marlboros. Meep cuddled himself on my hipbone, and upon my awakening scampered off of my bed and back into darkness.
For a moment, I admired Hoshi in her sleep. Though her hair was disheveled and obscured the finer features of her face, her arms were sleek and tan against the dark colors of her dress. Her silhouette was quietly tempting, fitted and curved where it was proper. Her aroma was slightly foul, and she could use a shower, but all of these qualities were overshadowed by her general radiance. She was one of those rare specimens which cause a man to desire to change himself to fit her whim. At that moment, I would melt my carefully constructed past down into scrap metal for her and ooze myself into whatever new mold she deemed fit.
I rose with fatigue in my limbs, and discreetly slipped London Calling back to the sock drawer from whence it came. I devised a foolproof way to awaken Hoshi without shaking her—I went to the kitchen and began brewing French roast while lighting up a cigarette.
It took her moments to respond. Soon she was pouring herself a cup of coffee while rubbing her face awake. I smiled as she took a seat across from me, grabbing the pack of cigarettes and lighter across from her.
"You sure know how to have a breakfast," I greeted lightly.
"Shhh," she said, putting her finger to her lips after taking a drag. "Hoshi's got a hangover."
"I've got work today," I informed her.
"Ok, but we have to stop by to see Feepit afterwards."
"Fine. Did you meet Meep?"
"Meep who?"
"Never mind."
"But we'll only be stopping at the lab for a second."
"Oh? Why?" I asked, amused that she was ordering me around despite her free-loading in my house. It was assertively charming.
"Because I'm getting your palm read tonight."
The absolute stupidity of the comment made me spit my coffee back into my cup. "What?"
"You heard me."
"Please don't tell me you believe in that bullshit. That doesn't even involve magic. It involves vague generalizations that can be over-applied to anyone with so much as a palm."
"Do you believe in anything?" asked Hoshi mildly, taking a long, calm drag from her cigarette.
"I believe in Freud."
"So you want to fuck your mother?"
"More like want to fuck over my mother. She did abandon me at birth."
"Oh Oedipus, I think I'm dying from your absolute charm."
"You know, Freud was about more than fucking your parents. Do ego, id and super-ego mean anything to you?"
"Just that I have an unquenchable thirst for daddy dick."
"Fantastic imagery."
"I try, Frank. I try."
She finished her cigarette, and then announced her intentions to roam Faerie City under the guise of job hunting. I encouraged her fruitlessly until she walked out the door, taking flight as soon as her feet touched the front stoop. I finished a second cup of coffee and smoked three more cigarettes until pushing myself out the door, forcing myself into the daily grind.
The day went by without interruption. My shift was with Illusen, another employee and a frequent one-night stander with Jhudora, so I was relieved of Jhudora's whining about Hoshi. At that time Illusen was a bonafide hippie, complete with permanent dreadlocks, Birkenstocks attached to her feet and clothes made solely of hemp. All Illusen really loved was bongs, brownies, and the occasional lay, and this made the first part of the day a fairly relaxing affair.
I offered to close up shop once again, and although Illusen gave me a few suspicious looks, she didn't further question my motives or demand a game of poker. (This was unfortunate—Illusen was actually fairly challenging to play against.) Hoshi, again, appeared moments later, though brushing elbows with Illusen on the way out.
"She's a looker," commented Hoshi, giving Illusen's backside an approving gaze.
"Eh, I could never get into hippie girls," I disagreed.
"Well, whatever. As a prelude to tonight, tell me when you were born."
"Uh, fifth month, new moon."
"New moon? I thought they never let light faeries be born on the new moon."
"Hey, I can't really defend my parents, 'cause I don't know them."
"Anyway, I think that makes you … ah … Pisces-Aries cusp. Heavy on the Aries, but I can see the Pisces all over you."
"And that means … ?"
"That I should really want to fuck you. Scorpio-Sagittarius cusp, right here."
"I don't believe in destiny. We make fate."
"Whatever, it's fun, and it's on me."
"Where'd you get the money?"
"Your safe."
"How did you--!"
"You have a really shitty locksmith."
Foiled, I decided not to argue with her—a task that always ended fruitlessly, anyhow. Talking rapidly, she guided me out to the Moltenore. Within the flurry of speech, I caught something regarding a job she was investigating. I wished she had a pause button, but in the mean time I had to shake her a little to get her attention.
"Hold the phone there, tiger. Tell me about this job opportunity there."
"Oh that?" she asked innocently. "I just stopped by the Faerie Employment Agency momentarily, and flirted with the front desk woman. She said she might be able to hook me up with something regarding"—she look around as if to check for spies—"employment with the future faerie queen!"
"You mean Princess Fyora?"
"Shh! Not so loud! But yeah."
"Whoa … are you sure about that? Did they give you contact information, or an application?"
"I gave them your address."
"Ugh … you sure that's a great idea? I don't think they'll like the fact you fraternize with a disgrace to the faerie population."
"You worry too much, Franklin."
I tried to wring further details out of her, but she wasn't leaking. Finally, I just subscribed to whatever topic she decided to meander upon, which tended to be a prep before we entered into the 'realm of the fantastic.' Being a faerie, it took a lot to amaze me—but Hoshi seemed genuinely excited to get my palm read, despite it not being her own. Her excitement carried all the way to forgetfulness, her intention on visiting Feepit abolished.