Logan couldn't stand summer vacation. It was three whole months of uselessness, of forgetting everything he had worked so hard to learn. Three months during which Curiosity wasn't needed to process academic information, only to observe the world—which was nice, sure, but it wasn't… fulfilling.
The most frustrating thing was that he had more free time than ever, but nothing to do with it. He'd read every book in the Mindscape twice and it was only mid-July. He'd stopped playing games with the others. The games weren't useful, and they rarely made sense, so why should he participate? He ended up spending most of his time in his room, trying to perfect his model solar system. He was trying to give the miniature sun and planets enough gravitational pull to orbit on their own without being tied to anything, but not so much that it interfered with his day-to-day life by pulling him around his room. He'd rewritten the formulas dozens of times, but it still wasn't quite right.
There was no way around it: he simply wasn't needed for anything, and sides needed to be needed.
Thomas was playing make-believe at the park with some kids he'd met five minutes ago, so Aeneas was in charge for the time being, with Patton's help. Logan read in his room to take a break from his project, feeling Thomas in motion as he ran around the playground. They were having fun.
Fun.
According to the dictionary, fun was entertainment. It was lighthearted pleasure or amusement. It was recreation, leisure time. The dictionary didn't account for Thomas's smile or Patton's gushing about their new friends, but it would probably agree with Logan that Thomas most likely would never see those new friends again. Encyclopedias would prove that the things Aeneas told them weren't true. That was what Logan understood for certain.
Leisure and recreation were things people did in their spare time to enjoy themselves. The facts that Logan had full certainty of were that he had plenty of spare time, and he was not enjoying himself. He wasn't as passionate as he used to be. The solar system model became less satisfying every day.
He wasn't sure what had changed.
Logan felt a tug in his mind, the one that brought his attention to schoolwork or anything Thomas needed him for. Instantly, he'd bookmarked his page and set it aside, closing his eyes to better see through Thomas's.
His host had spotted a pillbug, or roly poly as Thomas called it at his age. It had distracted him from the game with his new friends. Logan had to admit, it was fascinating how they curled up whenever they felt threatened, which was unfortunately quite often for the little bugs. Logan could already sense the contrasting urges in Thomas, between investigating the bug or continuing the game.
Thomas's playmates caught up with him. "What are you doing?" one of them asked. "The wizard's tower is right up ahead, we have to hurry before it's too late!"
Logan could feel his brow knitting together. There was really no point in poking at the poor pillbug. Thomas had done it before, he knew what would happen. Why repeat an experiment when it yielded consistent results? Besides, his friends were waiting for him, and the chance that he'd never run into these particular children at this particular park again was low. He might as well have fun while it was an option. The only logical thing to do was continue the game, however illogical that game might be.
"You're right," Thomas declared. "Onward to the tower!" The children forged ahead to a great pine tree. The pillbug was forgotten.
Logan reached for his book again, but a sudden headache made him pause. Maybe he'd been reading for too long and his eyes were strained. It might be best to briefly stop academic activities; he'd get more done in the long run if he took care of himself.
Still, Logan was reluctant as he rose and left his room for what might have been the first time all day. Had he left the day before? He couldn't quite remember. Everything he wasn't certain of was almost overwhelming, but he didn't just let feelings get the better of him. Crofters always put him in a better mood, so he ventured into the hallway, planning to head for the kitchen.
He had to take a moment to get his bearings. His door had shifted further down on the right wall of the hallway. Its indigo paint was slightly muted, he noticed.
Then he saw the sign on the door, stating the function of the side it belonged to.
Logic.
…
Of course the others noticed the change before long.
Logan couldn't be sure who was first to see it, but Patton was the first to comment on it. Well, comment was a bit too gentle of a word.
It was when he came to get him for dinner. Instead of the usual knock, there was an overstated gasp followed by a round of hacking coughs. Logan sighed; that was just what Patton got for getting too excited. Or freaked out, or whatever he was. Emotions were too vague for Logan to pin them down, he'd rather stick to facts, and it seemed the fact was that Patton was caught off guard by the shift in Logan's function.
One of the things Logan appreciated about Patton was his respect of privacy. He always knocked on the door before opening it. This time, though, he slammed it open. "Logan, have you seen this?"
Logan barely suppressed a flinch at the sudden noise. It wasn't that Patton seemed angry, only surprised. "Seen what?"
Patton waved wildly at the door. "Your name! It changed!"
"My function, not my name. It's still me, Logan."
"Well, then your function changed! Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?"
"What's going on?" Janus peered through the doorway, his eyebrows rising as he noted the change. "Ah. Hello there, Logic."
Patton turned between the two of them, mouth opening and closing soundlessly before he burst. "How are you so calm?!"
Janus shrugged. "These things happen. You were Niceness before you were Caring. Aeneas was Art, now he's Creativity. Logan used to be Curiosity, and he became Logic, but obviously this is a completely different matter."
"He didn't tell us!"
"I figured you'd find out eventually anyway," Logan said. He was already tired of them talking about him like he wasn't there. "I don't seem to be particularly different. It isn't a pressing issue."
"But of course you're different, otherwise your function wouldn't have changed." Patton came inside and crouched on the ground beside Logan. "Kiddo, what was it? Can I help?"
Janus sighed, leaning in the doorway. "Pat, this isn't something to be fixed. Different doesn't mean bad, and it doesn't mean that you did something wrong, either."
"But if he changed all of the sudden—"
"Change isn't sudden," Janus interrupted. "Do you know what my name means?"
"Denial or Janus?"
"Janus. He's the Roman god of transitions. There's a middle ground between everything. Change is gradual. Like when you're crossing a river, you can't just teleport across. You have to take a bridge. Logan's beginning point was Curiosity, and his end point is Logic, but there was a bridge in between. He's been changing for a long time, Patton. Him being Logic now only means that he's at the end of this particular change." He shrugged again and left for the kitchen. "I'm going to tell Virgil before he finds out himself and freaks out," he called over his shoulder.
Logan sat still. There was something paralyzing about Patton's presence, the whirlwind emotion barely concealed under the surface. They were wasting time, couldn't Patton say something so they could move on?
Patton put a hand on his shoulder. "You know I'm here for you, kiddo. You can always talk to me. I don't want you to feel alone."
"I'm not alone." And I don't feel, and we're the same age.
The hand fell. "Dinner's ready."
"I'll be there in a minute."
Patton left.
Logan sat at his desk.
There was no point in stalling. He'd have to come out eventually, otherwise he'd hurt Patton's feelings and that would be difficult to fix. He wasn't even doing anything, he'd made sure to reach a stopping point in time for dinner. He was wasting his own time.
But dinner was a waste of time.
He forced himself to join the others in the kitchen, but by then, dinner was already halfway over.
