Chapter One

New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day are, in &’s opinion, certainly the best two days of the year. This is evident. It’s worth noting that & is the type who actually prefers the heels of bread. The end and the beginning are the best two parts of anything.

Conclusions are satisfying by their very nature. But the end of a year—or even better, a decade, like today—is something extra special. Nothing beats the feeling that you’re all through with something, that a chapter of your life is ending and a new one is about to begin. You’ve made it through, and your reward is a blank calendar and a year ending in zero, to do with as you please. You can do anything. Anything can happen.

& knows well enough that this feeling always fades as time passes. Soon the new year is no longer new. It becomes the old year, another thing that must be endured. That sad fact doesn’t diminish the magic contained in those days, when the passage of time is, briefly, something to be treasured.

The start of a new year also separates you, if only abstractly, from the endurances of the previous one. It’s a nice illusion. A bit of mental distance, sorely needed.

Today is December 31. Now is the time to celebrate endurance. The longest year of &’s life has come to a close. Good riddance.

It’s a nice thought, but a nice thought isn’t enough after a year like this. What they need is a proper distraction, one that may either obscure or magnify this reality, depending on how it goes. They’re hoping for the former.

So they’re going to a party. The invitation says seven, but they’ll be there at eight. It seems more polite. Besides, they can’t decide on a fragrance. Liz is knocking on the door and they’re still not ready yet.

“You look ready to me,” she says when she sees them.

“I’m not,” says &. “Help me pick a scent.”

Liz rolls her eyes and smiles, sighing dramatically. She follows & to the shelf in their room where a small collection of fragrances is arranged neatly, a few pulled forward from the lineup for consideration.

“It’s between these three,” & says. “Which one smells like New Year’s?”

She examines a bottle, bringing it to her nose. “Um, this one’s good.”

“Just good?”

She sniffs the next one. “Hmm, maybe this is better. Smells new. Ginger and citrus?”

“Good nose! It’s ginger, bergamot, lavender, earthy patchouli—”

“Earthy patchouli… pfft.” Liz is shaking her head. “C’mon, let’s get out of here. We’re late.”

“Fashionably late,” & protests. They take the perfume and dab a bit at the hollow of their collarbone. Liz is right; it suits the occasion. It smells like the beginning of something.

“Being late isn’t fashionable anymore,” Liz says. “This isn’t the twentieth century.”

“Your dress could’ve fooled me,” & smirks.

She does a little twirl, letting the dark pink fabric spin around her. “I know. Isn’t it great?”

“Unfortunately.” & takes one last look in the mirror, adjusting their earrings. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Why is it unfortunate?” Liz says as the two of them exit. “Didn’t you say you wanted me to show you up?”

“Yes, but it won’t be enough,” they sigh, closing and locking their apartment door. “You’re a goddess, but you know how people are. Nothing could stop them.”

“From what?”

“...You know.”

“Oh, you worry too much.” Liz pokes them. “It’s Tetra’s party, remember?”

“So?”

They skip the elevator and take the stairs to the ground floor.

“So you won’t be a spectacle,” says Liz. “If anyone gives you a hard time, just tell Tetra. Tell her to make it a rule not to talk about it.”

“That’s so arrogant. It’s not all about me.”

“Exactly!”

“Although it has felt like it recently.”

“Hey…” Liz gives them a look. “Cheer up. It’s the end of the year! Pretty soon everyone’s gonna move on to something else and forget all about it.”

“You know that’s not true.”

She hesitates. “Okay, yeah, but… It’s New Year’s! I thought this was your favorite holiday?”

“It is.” They pause. “But after the year I’ve had, a holiday’s not enough.”

“Don’t say that until you’ve tried the champagne.” Liz takes &’s hand and gives it a squeeze. “Besides, if tonight’s no good, tomorrow is another year.”

Her attitude is admirable and infectious.

Miraculously, they’ve made it to the bottom of the stairs and out the building without running into anyone else. & stops on the sidewalk, then points rightward, toward a nearby train station. “This way. We can go unnoticed on the Teal Line, if we’re careful.”

—

It’s hard to believe parties like this still happen. It’s like something out of a movie, something from some other time. How fitting that the guests & recognizes are from movies, and that & used to be part of that world, in what now feels like some other life.

Granted, Tetra is a filmmaker, so this isn’t all that unexpected. Her passion for visual beauty is not limited to the screen. The way she dresses and the way she decorates her place, a lovely historical house where she lives with two other artists, betray her aesthetic mastery. Her home is picture-perfect, even with its strange eerie qualities and all the signs it shows of its age.

The same could be said of Tetra herself, though she’s much younger at thirty-nine. When & and Liz arrive, she’s standing by the staircase, as elegant as ever in a painfully stylish gown that’s all sharp shapes and colorful clashing patterns. Archaic platform shoes add three inches to her height, which is already so tall that the doorways in here probably graze her head. She looks like modern art—until she sees them, at which point she rushes forward, smiling and welcoming them in with awkwardly charming gestures warmer and more beautiful than any sculpture.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she tells &, leading them to the kitchen and a champagne glass. Liz stays behind. On the way, conversations are dying around them; all heads are turning, all eyes fixing themselves to &. “I so thought that you wouldn’t come, and I wouldn’t blame you, with everything—I’ve been telling everyone I can, hey, this is a party, we’re here to have fun, we’re not doing any—well, you know.” She gestures vaguely.

“Any what? Guessing games?”

“Any… anything like that.” They arrive at the drinks, and & accepts some champagne. The rest of the house is packed, but the kitchen is sparsely populated, occupied mostly by various drinks and concessions. “I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” Tetra adds. “It’s so good to finally see you again. It’s like, what happened?” She grins sympathetically, resting her hand on &’s shoulder.

“It’s good to be here,” & says. They’re almost convinced that it is. “Thanks for inviting me. I appreciate it. Really, I owe you an apology.”

“You do? What for?” Her eyebrows knit. “For falling out of touch? Don’t worry about it—I mean, it’s as much my fault as yours, and everything’s been so wild—especially with like, when I was working on Restructure, and you know what happened after that—”

“I meant for not telling you,” & cuts in.

“Oh. You mean that you’re… oh.” Tetra laughs nervously. “I don’t blame you for that at all. I can’t even imagine. With everything you’ve been through lately…” She looks off into the distance. “I wouldn’t tell people either! Right? Anyway, we’re still friends, right? I—I still feel the same.”

“Of course,” & says.

Tetra nods, looking uncertain. “Good. I’m glad.” She stands there a moment and sips the last of her champagne. She pours herself another glass. “I should have started with seltzer. I’m gonna be sick of champagne by the time it hits midnight,” she says lightly.

& sips theirs. “I’m not. This is delicious.” They half-laugh. “I know I just got here, but this party is lovely. You have a beautiful home,” they say.

“Thank you! It’s pretty neat, isn’t it?” She leans back on the kitchen counter and raises her glass, eyes darting appreciatively around the room. “You can thank Gail for the decorations. She’s great at that.”

“Where is she?”

“Well, she was supposed to guard the drinks, but I guess she abandoned her post! Last time I saw her, she was talking to Joey.”

“Joey’s here?” Joey Lakomy, famed director who launched & into fame after noticing them in Tetra’s directorial debut? He loves Tetra—there’s no way he’d miss this. “Oh, of course he is.”

“Yeah. Man, how long’s it been?”

“Since I’ve seen him? Two thousand, eight hundred and thirty-two days, five hours, and six seconds.”

Tetra blinks. “Wow. That long?”

“I’ve been out of acting for a while,” & laughs.

Someone enters the kitchen. & doesn’t recognize her, but they instantly know she is Dawn Chthonic, Tetra’s other housemate and partner along with Gail. She smiles at Tetra as she goes for the cheese and crackers. “Hi, stranger,” she says.

“Who, me?” Tetra smiles back. “You see me every day. You should say hi to &. &, this is Dawn—have you two met?”

“No,” & says. “Nice to meet you. I’m &.”

“I know who you are,” Dawn says. “I hate to tell you, but you’re pretty famous lately.”

“Just lately? Aw.” & clutches their chest, pretending unconvincingly to be offended.

“No, no! I’ve known you since Droneflesh. Great movie, by the way. It’s cool to finally meet you. Happy New Year!”

“It’s still the old year, unless our clocks are way off,” Tetra says.

“Okay, well, happy New Year’s Eve! You know what I mean. You, of all people,” she says, looking pointedly at &, “should know what I mean!”

“I did, but not for that reason.” & tries to smile, suddenly missing Liz.

Dawn looks like she’s trying to figure out whether she said something wrong. “Yeah! Yeah, of course. I didn’t mean—I was just joking. My bad.” She gives an apologetic look not to & but to Tetra, who has poked her in the ribs.

“No need to apologize.” Where did Liz get to, anyway? Where is she? Oh, she’s in the sitting room, on the old-fashioned blue couch, talking to Joey. Insight and Willow are there too. Gail’s not. & looks at Tetra. “I can take a joke sometimes, you know.”

“I remember,” Tetra says.

“It’s only when it goes too far,” they add. “When it stops being a joke.” Was there any good reason to add that? Why did they say that?

They said it because it’s true to them. There’s a limit to the jokes they can accept on this subject, especially from strangers. Something like what Dawn said is so innocuous it’s almost ridiculous to apologize for. But it’s just a step removed from what & does not want to hear: that people think they’re reading everybody’s minds when they’re not. That’s why.

But they’re just calling more attention to it now. They, of all people, should know when to shut up.

“Right,” Tetra says. She looks slightly uncomfortable—that’s empathy, not &’s power, although it’s something they’re quite good at. They know the look in her eyes, and it hurts.

There’s a painful empty beat where everyone just stands there, staring. “Well, I’m going to go find Liz,” & says. They force themself to smile at Tetra and Dawn. “Talk to you soon.”

In the sitting room, Liz is on the old-fashioned blue couch, talking to Joey. Insight is still there, but Willow has gotten embroiled in a conversation with someone else. As & approaches, all of them go quiet except Liz.

& ignores this. “I brought you some champagne,” they say, handing it off. “You were right, by the way. It’s excellent.”

“Thanks. See, I told you!” Liz laughs.

Next to her, Joey is looking at & with his usual bemused facial expression. One hand is holding an empty glass and the other is stroking his gray goatee. “Why, hello there,” he says. “Long time no see. How’s life treating you?”

“Oh, you know.” They shrug and smile. “Can’t complain.”

“You can too complain,” Liz says.

“Choose not to complain.” & smiles.

“If there was ever a time to complain about your year, it’s New Year’s Eve,” says Joey. “But it’s good to have a positive outlook.”

“I try my best.”

“It’s amazing that you can have one,” Joey goes on. “But then, that affirms my fundamental belief in humanity and the goodness of this world.”

“How many champagnes have you had, old man?” Insight jokes.

“One! I’m just wistful. If there was ever a time to be wistful…”

“Oh, you’re always wistful.” Insight laughs. He looks away from Joey and meets &’s eyes. “Hello,” he says.

“Hello,” says &.

“Oh, &, this is Insight Imai,” Joey says. “The greatest actor of our generation.”

“I know,” they say. “I loved you in the Minimal/Maximal series.”

“Thank you!”

“You watched those?” Joey says.

“Yes. Didn’t I tell you the last time we saw each other?” They sip their champagne.

“Did you? It’s been so long. Years, hasn’t it?”

& nods. “Before Optimal and Suboptimal came out. So I had only seen the first two. I have to say, you stuck the landing.”

“Well, I’m glad you liked them. Or even if you just liked Insight, I wouldn’t blame you! He’s a genius. The best part of those films, in my opinion.”

Liz nods. “I saw the reviews. Even your haters agreed.”

“Thanks, but really, it was all in the script,” Insight says.

“You’re too modest! I’ve told you a million times, and I’ll tell you a million more,” Joey says. He laughs, stops, then turns back to &. “You know, I’m really glad you’re here tonight. I was wondering if I’d ever see you again.”

“I just retired. I didn’t die,” & says. They drink more champagne. They don’t always like what alcohol does to their head, but they really need to be less stiff and robotic right now. If they aren’t, people will only think worse thoughts than they’re already probably thinking.

“I know, but… it really has been such a long time. Where have you been? I guess on the radio, and, well, now your pilot—you’ve had a pretty busy year—”

“We sure have,” Liz cuts in, surely to remind him that she was also involved in those things.

“You, too,” says Joey.

“We haven’t been too busy to watch your movies, though, right, &? The new one was really funny!”

“Let’s not talk about work anymore,” Joey says after a moment. “It’s New Year’s Eve.”

“Hear, hear,” says Insight.

“What a year,” he says. “Years go by so fast when you’re my age, and still, what a year.”

“A lot has happened,” & says.

“For you most of all,” he says. “But I won’t mention that.”

“You just did. Again,” Liz says. & elbows her.

Just then, Tetra, Dawn, and Gail walk in, and the attention in the room is diverted to them. “You all having a good time?” Tetra asks everyone. Everyone nods. “Great! There’s more drinks in the kitchen if anyone wants any. Snacks too.”

“I’m gonna put on some music,” Gail says.

“What are we feeling like? Any votes?”

“Anything but Abandoned Shopwindow Mannequins,” Willow says.

&, who likes that band, feels slightly offended.