A/N: Thanks a lot for the reviews - especially to the unlogged reviewers I didn't get to write my thanks to in private!
Bill did not attend the next meeting. Nor the one after that.
If they were too cowardly to do anything with the knowledge they had been hoarding, then fine. He had learned from them all he could, anyway, and he was not a coward. He was willing to risk it. Let them sit on their lower sides and do nothing while he found a way to use what he had learned to change everything. He would, somehow, come what may.
He didn't need them. He didn't need anyone.
If my Readers have followed me with any attention up to this point, they will not be surprised to hear that life is somewhat dull in Flatland. I do not, of course, mean that there are not battles, conspiracies, tumults, factions, and all those other phenomena which are supposed to make History interesting; nor would I deny that the strange mixture of the problems of life and the problems of Mathematics, continually inducing conjecture and giving an opportunity of immediate verification, imparts to our existence a zest which you in Spaceland can hardly comprehend. I speak now from the aesthetic and artistic point of view when I say that life with us is dull; aesthetically and artistically, very dull indeed.
"I'm still not entirely sure, Mr. Cipher. I mean, I like both, but it's hard to pick just one, if you know what I mean."
"Oh, sure thing. Black or white? Though choice, that."
The sarcasm from Bill's part went entirely over the client's head, but it was to be expected: how would one who had never seen colors - maybe never imagined they existed - even pick that up?
Flat minds in a flat world. How fitting.
"Yes, precisely," the Hexagon said, entirely unaware of Bill's thoughts. He held a walking cane in each hand, as though to compare their weight. "Which one would you say is the most striking?"
"My money's on the one you bash on someone's angle."
That made the client laugh. "Hah! I may be tempted, next time I meet a few of my esteemed colleagues, but I suspect it would cause me more trouble than it would be worth," he said, and turned his attention to the canes again. "Decisions, decisions," he murmured, his eye narrowed in thought, and Bill had to refrain from rolling his. This one was a surgeon, too. If he was that much of a quick thinker on the job, too, Bill couldn't picture many of his patients leaving the clinic alive.
He let his gaze wander around the store while he waited for the client to make up his mind. His father had left him a shop that mostly dealt in fine clothing, and had been very wary of the idea of changing anything in the way it was run. He had been wary of any kind of change, truth be told.
"Jack of all trades, master of none," he had muttered when Bill had suggested they could buy the store next door as well and tear down a wall to make a bigger store, where they could deal in more than just hats, ties and fancy trinkets.
Better than master of one, Bill remembered replying, earning himself a sideways glance and no actual answer. Of course, buying the store next door and making the place bigger had been the first thing he had done once he had taken possession of the business, his father not yet cold in his grave. He had turned the new part of the store in a pawn shop, and it had taken off pretty well. Plus, there may or may not be some money lending going on the side. It was fun, too: made for some interesting bargains and deals.
More interesting than watching some old geezer picking a cane, anyway. There was a guy looking at his miscellaneous merchandize, really, but it was an Isosceles, so he had to give the old man priority - even though he had come in later and was an utter bore.
"If you ask me, it's not so much about the cane as it's about how you carry it," Bill finally said, taking one himself. He leaned on it, tipping his hat. He had taken to wearing a bowtie as well; it looked good on him, if he said so himself. "No offense, but you look kinda like you're using a crutch. I know you've got more class than that."
I certainly do, he thought. Half your sides and twice the style.
That got a laugh out of the Hexagon. "Oh, but I am an old man who could use a crutch, all things considered," he said, and looked down again. "You know, I think I'll go for the black one."
"Great choice," Bill said, and he even sounded like he meant it. At least it was enough to satisfy the guy and make him pay and leave. Bill had almost feared he'd stay past the closing time, trying to decide between black and white. Just how long would he have stayed if he got to choose from several colors, each of them so bright it made the untrained eye hurt?
Bill scowled. Admittedly, there were a few things he missed of the meeting, and getting to see the colors was one of them. But he had been told how to obtain it, so maybe, if he played his cards right and acquired what he needed without anyone noticing, he could create some himself. After all, a pawn shop would be the ideal cover to get his hands on-
"I'm sorry, sir - may I bother you?"
Bill glanced up to see the Isosceles had approached. Must have waited for the Hexagon to leave for a while, too. Bill put the cane down on the counter.
"Wouldn't be my job if that was a problem," he said, entirely ignoring the fact he didn't have that much of a choice regardless: his shape had put him in the merchant class before he had any idea what any of it may mean. "How canI help?"
"I was wondering if I could suggest a swap," the Isosceles said, putting a pocket watch down on the counter and then placing something else beside it - a wedding ring. Bill took it and gave it a good look. It wasn't anything of much value; neither was the pocket watch, which was pretty to look at but not quite old enough to be considered an antique, but it was still worth more than some cheap thing that may as well have come out of a coin machine. Bill didn't need to bite on it to tell it was not gold.
"Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but unless you can add some money on top-"
"I have this as well," the Isosceles said quickly, putting another wedding ring on the counter. "My wife's. They've got to be worth somethin', right?"
"Sentimental value, I guess. Won't pay any bills, including this one," Bill muttered, gesturing towards himself, but he did take a look at the second ring. "Okay, I'll bite. Why the trade? Trouble with the wife?"
The Isosceles' gaze brightened. "My son was just born. He's a Regular! A proper Equilateral, just like yourself!"
So he's gonna be taken from you before you can pick a name, Bill thought, but didn't say it aloud. He frowned down at the rings, thinking back of Nora's question.
Have you ever thought of looking for your family, Bill? I mean, your… the original one?
"... Congrats," he heard himself saying. "Didn't answer though - why the trade?"
Maybe it was just his impression, but some of the brightness seemed to fade from the other's eye. "He'll… he'll be off to his new family soon. Proper Equilaterals as well. Will raise him right. Just kinda hopin' I can let him have a little something to keep, y'know? 'Cause we're so proud of him. Not sure they're gonna let him keep it, but a man's gotta try, right?"
His voice broke off some towards the end of the sentence. Bill put the rings back down on the counter.
"Got to risk it, yeah. I can respect that, but these ain't worth a thing. You can keep 'em," he said, and pushed everything - the rings and pocket watch both - towards the Isosceles.
The man blinked. "Sir, the watch-"
"Are you deaf? I said you can keep 'em."
This time, the Isosceles seemed to get it, at least judging from the way his eye widened. "But I cannot accept-"
"Get out of my shop before I change my mind."
He did accept, and left in a hurry. Go figure: no one ever passes by the chance to have something for free. Bill allowed himself a moment to wonder if the kid would be allowed to keep that watch.
Probably not, unless his new family kept it hidden from him where it came from: anything that might encourage a new Regular to seek out his birth parents was actively discouraged. Why bother getting anything for a kid who won't get to keep it unless they're lied over who bought it to them to begin with?
'Cause we're so proud of him.
There are registers of all Regulars born from Isosceles. I can access to them and find out who they are.
Except that he wouldn't now, because Bill sure wasn't going to be back crawling to ask that pain in the angle to do it. Not that he wanted him to. He didn't need to look them up. Bill Cipher didn't need anyone.
He was still trying to get the memory of the encounter out of his mind when jingle of a bell snapped him from his thoughts, and he didn't bother turning to the door.
"Shop's closed. Better luck tomo-"
"... Hey, Bill."
The voice was a known one, as was the tilted shape at the door when Bill turned.
"Kryptos?" he said, then caught himself. "Fancy seeing you here," he spoke again, his voice cold. "Bet you know the way to the door, sir. You're standing right by it."
"I just wanted-"
"Shop's closed."
"I didn't want to buy anything. I just-"
"Then you really have no reason to be here. Sir," he added, his voice as venomous as he could make it. He hadn't said a word when he had left, not a word after his stupid cousin had punched him for having the guts to tell it how it was. What in the blazes did he even want now?
Kryptos hesitated, but didn't leave. "You don't have to call me that," he finally said, letting the door close behind him.
"How else would I call you?"
"... I thought friend was it."
Bill snorted and rolled his eye, but said nothing to it. Instead, he leaned on the cane and tapped his foot. "Fine. What are you here for?"
Kryptos seemed to relax a fraction. "We have talked about what happened, and-"
"Go figure. Talking is all you guys do."
A scowl, and Kryptos stepped closer. Well, now that was interesting: he was a complete pushover, usually. "Enough now! Be reasonable and let me- hey!" he yelped, stepping back as soon as Bill brought up the cane, holding the tip against his center like a sword. His eye widened, causing Bill to snicker. He looked so scared it was kinda funny.
"Whoa there, slow down. Almost made me think you had guts," he said, and lowered the cane. "Tell me to be reasonable one more time and this is gonna bash you so hard in the angle you'll turn into an an inverted triangle. Wait, would you like one? Canes are three secants. I'll make it five for you," he added, leaning forward on the cane.
Kryptos gave a bit of a shaky laugh. "Not buying anything, but good to see you're not too mad."
"Not in the sense I'm angry, no."
"Heh. Look, seriously. Can we speak? I'm sorry for what happened back there. We all are. Even Tad," he added quickly. Bill rolled his eye. Again.
"What, the lawyer's afraid I could sue him?"
"He didn't mean to snap. But he's under a lot of pressure, and… what are you doing?"
"Rolling my eye as much as it's physically possible."
"... You're creepy."
"And you're a wimp. More news at eleven," Bill muttered, but he did finally stop trying to get his eye to make a full turn in the socket and fixed it back on Kryptos. "Look, I mean it. It's bad for him, too - all those Irregulars he can't do anything for - and then you were… well…"
"Honest?"
"A prick."
"Sounds accurate," Bill conceded, and crossed his arms. "That cane's price went up to seven secants."
This time, it was Kryptos to roll his eye. "Didn't you hear that I'm not buying anything?"
"Wasn't listening. And I may have hurt some delicate feelings back there, Kryptos, but I wasn't lying - no point if you're not trying to sell stuff. We've got to do something, and since you guys aren't willing to risk it-"
"Not all of us," Kryptos blurted out. Bill blinked.
"... Come again?"
Kryptos looked around the shop, as though he feared someone may be hidden behind a shelf to listen. "We… we talked about what you said. Randall still thinks it would be too risky with no chance of success, and Pentos and C-C-Croatoan agree with him. Esther, too."
Well, Bill thought, that left only three names. "Are you telling me you and Hillmann grew a brain?"
"Nora, too."
"Nora already had one."
Kryptos sighed, but his sigh ended with something close enough to a smile. It wasn't that common for someone in their world to have a mouth that was separated from the eye. Kinda fascinating, though not especially practical; it made them a lot easier to read than most, too, with that mouth quirking and twitching all the time.
"So, will you at least hear us out?"
Well. He had nothing to lose but some time, after all.
"... I guess. But there's a catch if you want me to get back there next week and not punch your cousin in the eye," he added on a whim, crossing his arms. Kryptos was not a fully qualified lawyer just yet, but he should be able to wriggle his way to the same information Tad had dangled before his eye during the last meeting. "There's someone I want you to find."
As to the doctrine of the Circles it may briefly be summed up in a single maxim, "Attend to your Configuration." [...] It is the merit of the Circles that they have effectually suppressed those ancient heresies which led men to waste energy and sympathy in the vain belief that conduct depends upon will, effort, training, encouragement, praise, or anything else but Configuration.
By the time he reached the address Kryptos had given him, Bill had had all the time he needed to get a small speech prepared in his mind. Except he hadn't done it at all, so he'd improvise.
On other news, water was wet.
The house was shaped octagonal, like all houses were, but definitely smaller than Bill's own. And older, too. Old walls, old door. Circles knew how many generations had lived there, dying one after another without getting to know or see anything more than whatever sucky job their lot in life had resulted with. Until he had happened, that was it. His shape and the degree of his angles had been his ticket out of there. He was not supposed to ever return.
Which was probably the main reason why he had, come to think of it.
He knocked, and for a few moments there was no response. Then, when he was about to try knocking again, there was a sound of footsteps and the door opened.
The Isosceles standing before him was taller than himself, but most of them were - the result of having such an acute upper angle - and showed signs of aging in the net of wrinkles around the eye. He looked at Bill, and frowned a little. "We don't buy nothin'."
… Well, of course he'd think he was there to sell something. Not many more reasons for a tradesman to show at the door of someone of the lowest class. Still, being brushed off like that was kinda annoying.
"Don't think you'd be able to afford even the worst crap in my shop, so no worries. Not here to sell," he muttered, crossing his arms. If the statement offended him, the Isosceles didn't show it. Isosceles were kinda used to it, anyway. He just gave him a rather dumb look and Bill took it as his cue to speak again.
"Mr. Zeebub, am I right?" he asked, and the other nodded.
"Yes. Who…?"
"Name's Bill Cipher."
A slight frown of confusion, but no sign of recognition. Made sense, though: if communication was to be avoided, then it wasn't likely they would be allowed to know the name of the family who raised him after-
"Lou, who is it?"
The door opened a bit further. There was a woman standing there as well, a wary eye on him. More out of habit than anything else - acting a bit more like a gentleman tended to help the sales - Bill reached to tip his hat. "Bill Cipher," he said.
"Charmed," she said, not sounding charmed at all. "What do we owe the visit?"
Billl shrugged. "I figured it was about time I said hi."
Her eye narrowed, then she seemed to hesitate. Somehow, she seemed sharper than her husband. "... Have we met?"
"Yeah, you've birthed me somewhere along the line."
Smooth, Cipher. Real smooth.
The woman stared. The man stared. Bill shifted a little.
Maybe he should have thought of some way to break the news beforehand, after all. "... Shoulda brought chocolate or something, I gue-"
"You must be mistaken. We never had any sons."
… Wait, what?
Bill blinked, and for a moment he could only watch when the Isosceles turned away to step back inside - but he did recover quickly enough to jam his cane through the door before the woman could close it. "Whoa, whoa, wait up. I'm looking for Lou Zeebub and his wife, and he said-"
"It is us, yes," the woman cut him off. "But you're mistaken, sir. We never had a son."
For a moment - only one moment - Bill thought that maybe Kryptos was even more of an idiot than he thought, that he got the wrong names. But then the woman's gaze met his, and something was falling from her eye to splash on the ground. When she spoke again, her voice was oddly broken.
"You shouldn't be here. Please, leave."
Bill scowled. "Seriously? That's it? You haven't seen me since I was born, and all you can tell me now is to leave-"
"You could lose everything. Please. Be reasonable!"
Reasonable.
There was a laugh, and it took Bill a few moments to realize it was coming from him. When realization hit, he found himself laughing even harder.
Your place in life depends on your sides and angles - that is also reasonable. Giving any Regular born from Isosceles up for adoption with other Regulars is reasonable.
The law is harsh, but it is law.
"Hahahahaha! You know what? Good point there," Bill said, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. "Yeah, guess you're right. I've got nothing to do with your kind. You're where you are 'cause you don't deserve any better," he said, and yanked the cane back. "Have a reasonable day," he added, and turned to leave.
He didn't hear the door closing, but it didn't matter and he refused to look back.
As things now are, we Males have to lead a kind of bi-lingual, and I may almost say bimental, existence. With Women, we speak of "love," "duty," "right," "wrong," "pity," "hope," and other irrational and emotional conceptions, which have no existence, and the fiction of which has no object except to control feminine exuberances; but among ourselves, and in our books, we have an entirely different vocabulary and I may also say, idiom. "Love" them becomes "the anticipation of benefits"; "duty" becomes "necessity" or "fitness"; and other words are correspondingly transmuted.