"The Irregular," they say, "is from his birth scouted by his own parents, derided by his brothers and sisters, neglected by the domestics, scorned and suspected by society, and excluded from all posts of responsibility, trust, and useful activity. His every movement is jealously watched by the police till he comes of age and presents himself for inspection; then he is either destroyed, if he is found to exceed the fixed margin of deviation, at an uninteresting occupation for a miserable stipend; obliged to live and board at the office, and to take even his vacation under close supervision; what wonder that human nature, even in the best and purest, is embittered and perverted by such surroundings!"
Liam was neither embittered nor perverted, but might have been, if left on his own with shame, scorn and suspicion hanging over him, and the knowledge the Inspection would someday decide what would become of him - dead, or low of the lowest. Loneliness would had been the final straw to make him succumb.
But there was Bill. The perfect Equilateral, quick thinker, smooth talker, a bag of tricks and mischief who could talk them both out of anything; perfect tradesman material, their father said. Hard to be bored, then, harder yet to feel lonely. Impossible to resent him for taking the spot that should have been his.
Impossible to resent him for anything, or almost. But Circles, could he be annoying. And persistent. And, most of all, nosy. A dangerous combination, that, when the less questions you ask the better it is for you.
"Whatcha reading?"
Liam winced, and the book very nearly fell from his hands. "Bill! You startled me!"
"Meant to," Bill quipped, and sat on the edge of Liam's bed. He was still short, no more than five inches, and his feet didn't touch the ground, so he let them dangle instead. "So, whatcha reading?"
"A love story," Liam quickly lied, and it was enough to make Bill roll his eye, the loss of interest perfectly evident. He took advantage of that moment to put the book away. The cover was indeed that of a love story, to stay on the safe side, but the contents were quite different, and a whole lot more dangerous.
"Dad says it's really stupid," Bill was saying. "Says you've got to pick the best bloodlines so your kids can get more sides and rise up."
Liam couldn't quite hold back the snort that left him. "Didn't keep me from coming out an Irregular, did it? And your line did nothing to get better. You happened by chance."
He hadn't meant his remark to come out as schathing as he did, but Bill didn't seem to mind either way. "By chance," he repeated, as though trying out a foreign word. He seemed fascinated by the idea, and it was enough to make Liam feel uneasy. The concept of anything happening by chance was a dangerous and unsettling one in itself - probably the main reason why Irregulars like him were so frowned upon - and Bill could land both of them in trouble if he said what he had just heard in front of anyone.
"Forget what I just said. Billy, I'm serious," he added, reaching to grab Bill's arm to press the point home. He wasn't even supposed to come see him unsupervised; if either of their parents found out he had sneaked out of his room to get to Liam's, they wouldn't be happy about it at all. "Never repeat that - never speak of chances - in front of anyone else. Understand?"
A moment of silence, then, "... Okay. So, things can happen even if they're not planned?"
"You just promised you wouldn't talk of it in front of anyone."
"Nope. I said I wouldn't do it in front of anyone else. That excludes you."
Oh, Circles, already bringing up clauses. He was going to make a fine tradesman alright.
"Bill, seriously-"
"Tell me more! C'mon! I won't say anything to anyone else if you tell me more!" Bill said, a whiny note in his voice. "Can things really happen even if you didn't plan it? Just happen? All sort of things?"
With a sigh, Liam finally caved in. Maybe, if he just spoke clearly, Bill would lose interest in the idea and forget all about it soon enough. If he refused, then there was no chance of it happening. It was how Bill worked: deny him anything, and it would become his greatest desire. That, too, could become dangerous: anyone striving for anything different from their assigned lot in life was likely to be considered subversive, and possibly terminated.
"Yes, they can. How else would Irregulars happen?" Liam said, and was unable to keep some bitterness out of his voice. That, and a fair share of fear. "But things are not supposed to happen by chance. I was not supposed to happen. That's why the Inspection has got to happen, to check if my irregularity got… any better."
But it hadn't, Liam knew as much. All of his sides and angles were hopelessly mismatched, to the point nothing could be done even at the Irregular Hospital, and they had sent him back home with the hope it might fix itself over time to at least a more acceptable degree.
When the Inspection came, and it would come without warning, failing it would mean only one thing - termination. The thought chilled him to the core, but Bill was unconcerned.
"Still worried for that dumb Inspection? Don't be a chicken," he said, giving his side - the shortest one - a light punch. "You'll be fine. When they see how smart you are, you being a freak won't matter anymore."
Most would mistake that for optimism, but Liam knew better: it was simply boundless confidence. Bill believed him to be more than what his irregularity deemed him to be - he didn't seem to realize just how revolutionary that thought was in itself, how removed from the system they were part of - and simply didn't contemplate the possibility anyone may think otherwise.
But Liam was older, and he knew better. Things weren't the way Bill thought they were, and he couldn't will them to be any different.
Yet.
Let the advocates of a falsely called Philanthropy plead as they may for the abrogation of the Irregular Penal Laws, I for my part have never known an Irregular who was not also what Nature evidently intended him to be-a hypocrite, a misanthropist, and, up to the limits of his power, a perpetrator of all manner of mischief.
"Stop eating my things!"
"But it's tasty!"
"You're crazy. Spit that out! Spit- eew, not on me!"
"Should have said that!"
"Why did you do it?"
"'Cause I could."
"You're a pain in the angle."
"Aww, love you too."
Liam scowled at Bill's grating laugh and glanced at the door. "Keep it down," he hissed. If their parents heard them, they'd get really angry that Bill was once again in his room without supervision. "They'll hear!"
"Yeah, yeah. And get mad and make noise. Big deal," Bill said, dropping down on Liam's bed. Easy for him to say that - they hardly ever got really mad at him, regardless what he did. But maybe it wouldn't have changed anything if they did: Bill seemed unconcerned about most things. A laugh, shrug it off, carry on.
"Maybe I should get mad and make noise. You ruined my book," Liam grumbled, sitting as well. His irregularity made it hard for him to stand for long without toppling, one of the reasons why reading was a lot easier than most other activities for him.
"Hey, don't make me feel bad."
"You never feel bad," Liam remarked. Sure, it was an unimportant book - he kept the important ones well hidden, because if any was found it would spell ruin even for a Regular, and death for him - but it was no reason for Bill to chew it.
"You read that book already anyway. I'll get a new one," Bill said, sitting up again. He hardly, if ever, was still for long - which was good, because that way he was around enough for both.
Getting out of the house is no fun when people look at you funny and you know authorities must be watching every step. If Liam needed something, Bill would be the one to go out and buy it - sometimes for less than the usual price, because he kept haggling until he got a better deal, and in those cases he'd be allowed to keep any extra change. Their father said it was perfect, since he was going to grow up to be a tradesman as all triangles did, and tradesmen are supposed to always get the best deal. Not that Liam would know. They had never taught him how to do that. What would be the point?
"As long as it's not another jokes book."
"You're no fun. Hey, how do you call an angle that's adorable?"
"Billy, no."
"Acute angle!"
"I am embarrassed on your behalf."
Bill, who clearly didn't even know the meaning of embarrassment, just laughed. It was a grating laugh, sure enough, but also the only laugh Liam heard on a regular basis, so he didn't mind.
That was also the last time he'd hear it, but he had no way of knowing as he watched Bill leave, a spring in his step, to get a book that Liam would never read.
But Bill would, and their world would rue that day for eons to come.
Expediency therefore concurs with Nature in stamping the seal of its approval upon Regularity of conformation: nor has the Law been backward in seconding their efforts. "Irregularity of Figure" means with us the same as, or more than, a combination of moral obliquity and criminality with you, and is treated accordingly.
"Oh, Billy! I didn't see you there. Back again, huh? And it hasn't even been a week!"
The bookstore's owner was, as all tradesmen, a Triangle himself. He was old and moved slowly, but his mind was still all there, and he was a lot of fun to bargain with.
"I'm looking for a book."
"Oh, I see. What kind of book?"
Bill shrugged. "Don't know yet. Something for Liam. Not a jokes book, though, 'cause he's not fun at all."
A laugh. "Look no further, then! I have just the book for him - it was delivered this morning. Liam had sent me a note to request it. You wait here and no mischief, alright?"
"Sure," Bill said, and waited until he had disappeared in the back of the shop before he switched a few of the books from one section to another: he had crossed his fingers when he had promised, so it didn't count.
Busy as he was switching as many as possible in the shortest time, he didn't realize that the shopkeeper was taking an unusually long time to come back - far more than he would have needed if he had kept the book with most of the others in the back. When he returned, he was holding under his arm a book wrapped in brown paper and twine.
"Here you go," he said, holding it out, and Bill reached to take him. He blinked.
"Why is it all wrapped up?" he asked, and didn't notice the shopkeeper's frame tensing for a moment before he spoke again.
"Well, let's say it is a surprise for Liam."
"But you said he sent a note asking for this one. Then he wouldn't be surprised at all, right?"
The other Triangle leaned down and spoke in a low voice. "Ah, but he'll be surprised if you don't tell him this is the book he requested, don't you think?"
That was a good point. "Right! I'll tell him it's a jokes book, so he'll be surprised when he opens it!"
Another laugh. "Good boy! Well now, run home and don't open it, all right? Let Liam unwrap it, so he'll be surprised. Promise?"
"Hu-uh. How much is it?" Bill asked, looking up and already anticipating yet another round of haggling for the price, but this time he was to be disappointed.
"Nothing, nothing. Your brother paid for it in full already. Oh, but there is something you could do before you go."
"What?"
The shopkeeper leaned down, his eye a scant inch away from Bill's. Suddenly, he looked a lot less friendly. "You put all those books back in place, or so help me."
… Well. Fair enough.
Advocating therefore a VIA MEDIA, I would lay down no fixed or absolute line of demarcation; but at the period when the frame is just beginning to set, and when the Medical Board has reported that recovery is improbable, I would suggest that the Irregular offspring be painlessly and mercifully consumed.
No one actually told Bill what had happened. He pieced it together, though, when he returned home to find that Liam was gone, his room's door locked, his parents refusing to discuss the matter. He pieced it together with the wrapped-up book, Liam's surprise, still clutched in his hands.
There was incredulity at first, rendering him unable to speak in the face of a staggering sense of finality - and then there had been screeching fury. It was like he had found himself with something amiss - like an angle had been bent out of shape, or a side distorted, making Bill an Irregular as well. None of it had visibly happened, but something was gone all the same, and it seemed impossible that neither of his parents - no one else at all - felt the same way.
"But Liam was smart! Real smart! He could have-"
"He could nothing. He was an Irregular. Nothing would have been enough to change that. It didn't matter."
"But-"
"Bill, enough. The law is harsh, but it is the law. There is nothing to argue."
That had been all, the only explanation given before life moved on, as though Liam had never been. His old room now locked, all Bill had left was the book that never made it to him on time.
He unwrapped it in Liam's place. He read it.
And that changed everything.
It was the last day but one of the 1999th year of our era, and the first day of the Long Vacation. Having amused myself till a late hour with my favourite recreation of Geometry, I had retired to rest with an unsolved problem in my mind. In the night I had a dream…