Rising Emotions Chapter 4

By Karen Hart


There were hazards in maintaining a simulated weather system. Lately the days had been hurtfully cold, while the nights were unbearably warm. Between the heating and cooling settings on Allen's air conditioner, his power bill was going to show a steady hike upwards. Three cheers for technology. At least the weather patterns were subject to constant change; he didn't know if he could stand much more of this.

Lethargy had set in long ago, and he ended up laying on his side on the sofa, staring blankly at the holoscreen, which depicted an old train yard, where a pair of lovers stood in the rain. The remote had fallen to the floor long ago; he didn't really feel like reaching for it just then. But then again, the movie was almost over anyway. Rain sounded good, he thought. Lots of rain, a deluge of the stuff—whatever it took to cool things down. He wondered idly when it'd rained last. What, eight, nine weeks ago?

Nine weeks. He rolled over so that he was staring at the back of the sofa this time. Nine weeks ago, he'd been standing in a graveyard, rain pouring down while he watched Shion cry. Odd how some things could make him think of that. But people always told him he was too nice for his own good. He'd wanted to do something then, and couldn't come up with a thing. Only to be there.

Allen remembered not seeing her at the funeral, and worrying the entire time He remembered showing up at her quarters once it was over. She'd looked like a mess when she opened the door, her usually well-kept hair hanging loose and unbrushed around her shoulders, her face red and splotchy, her uniform rumpled. They seemed to live in those things. Guess that's what happens when you live inside a company, he'd thought.

He'd asked if she was all right, though he knew the answer as well as she did. Of course not. Shion had shook her head "no", and looked at him expectantly. What did he want? "I was worried when I didn't see you," he'd started to say, stopping when he saw the quivering of her chin. For a moment there was silence while she regained her composure.

"I couldn't—" Shion'd stopped, shaking her head suddenly. "…You may as well come in." He'd followed her inside, and settled himself down on a worn, red armchair. She sat on the matching sofa, feet tucked up under her. "I couldn't go," she'd continued, eyes fixed on nothing in particular. "I couldn't look at him laying in a box and I couldn't watch them lower them into a hole in the ground. I figured if I didn't go it wouldn't be real and—god, why am I telling you this?" He recalled watching as she rubbed her face with one hand. "I'm so stupid, aren't I? Of course it's real." She looked over at him, expecting something, though he still wasn't sure what. Maybe for him to chastise her for being foolish.

Instead he'd shook his head. "You're not stupid at all." He had said nothing beyond that, just letting it sink in. A moment later, he'd added, "I don't think any of us wanted it to be real."

She'd snorted at that, for some reason. Maybe she'd found some form of humor in his words. "Of course not. He was a good friend." The line sounded rehearsed, somehow.

"That sounds like part of Togashi's eulogy," he'd commented.

Shion'd looked up at that. "Did he make a lot of jokes?"

He'd nodded. "He tried, at least."

There had been more silence after that, the two of them lost in their thoughts. What were they supposed to say to each other? Then: "Can I ask a favor of you?" Allen'd looked over at her. "Could you…could you drive me there? I don't trust myself behind the wheel very much right now." It was amazing how calm she'd sounded then.

"Sure," he'd agreed. And so they'd ended up alone in a graveyard, soaking wet and miserable, each in their own ways. But at least they weren't alone.

The movie ended, though he wasn't sure what'd happened, only that the credits were rolling. Hopefully the couple had remained together. Allen was a something of a romantic, that way. He hauled himself upright, cracking a neck that'd gone stiff at some point during the last couple of hours, and shut the screen off. A glance at the timepiece on the wall showed that it was 23:51. He pondered sleeping where he was, then discarded the thought; he had enough trouble waking up when the alarm was right next to his head, relying on his internal clock would be a disaster waiting to happen.

So, bed. Allen stood up, and dragged himself toward his bedroom, shutting things off along the way, a computer screen here, a light switch there. At one point he almost knocked something over in his fatigue. Amazing how fast he could lose control of his motor skills when it got late. Good thing the something in question was only resin.

Soon he found himself spread out across the bed, trying to find a comfortable position. At least he hadn't needed to make his bed in the past few days, what with sleeping on top of the covers. He guessed that fell under small favors. Sleep overtook him a few minutes later, blessed unconsciousness, but not before he caught the sound of rain hitting the window.