Chapter Four

It’s almost midnight, and & has been drinking too much champagne. Thinking about themself. Thinking about everyone else.

Facts are everywhere. Everything is made of information, and they can feel it all around, pulsing, finding its way into them. When they get to a certain level of intoxication, & stops caring about knowing things they shouldn’t. This is my power! they think. This is the gift I have been given! Why shouldn’t I use it?

They hate on their power a lot, justifiably so—it’s overwhelming to be a vessel for this much information, and it makes life needlessly complicated. That’s without mentioning other peoples’ reactions to it; now that they all know that they know all, & is a permanent outsider, forever removed from the in-group of humanity. Because so much knowledge must be inhuman, or it must make & inhuman somehow, surely.

They have proof of this now, what they’ve suspected for years. The whole reason they hid their power for so long. In the eyes of others, they are now an other. Some kind of creature approximating humanity, but lacking its most human characteristics: ignorance and uncertainty.

People don’t know, or won’t believe, that & has those things, too. Sure, they’ve had to work a little harder for them—okay, a lot harder. They spent years forcing themself not to use their power every time it would be convenient, placing walls around their own mind to try to stop their humanity from escaping. Struggling against their nature, all the while never being able to discuss it. Nothing could have been more difficult or isolating.

They knew it was worth it to stop the corruption of power they saw encroaching on them in their youth, back when they used to let people’s thoughts come to them like it was nothing and watch people’s traumatic memories like daytime TV shows. All that self-discipline, and the strict moral code they cultivated so they wouldn’t lose themself—it was worth it so they could fit in. So they could remain a part of the humanity they so loved.

And after all this time, what good has it done them? They threw it all away to set the secret free. They should have kept it. They should have used their power to know that they should have kept it.

Now all that work was for nothing. In the end, they’re still a freak. They never wanted to admit there could be things more important than telling the truth.

It’s so easy to see their power as a curse. Because it is. It’s not worth it at all. They’d get rid of it in a second if such a thing were possible.

But as long as they can't do that, they might as well use it. The time for fighting it is past.

Anyway, in spite of everything, omniscience isn’t all bad. Sometimes it’s great.

It’s like being the world’s most comprehensive library. Practically infinite, containing all that exists. From century-spanning epics to haiku, from impenetrable physics dissertations to disposable gossip mags, from political theory to religion to philosophy to advertisements, letter and notes, grocery lists, song lyrics, recipes, sketches, menus, unrealized inventions, unpublished manuscripts, legal documents, diaries, comic books, convenience store receipts, the little pieces of paper attached to the strings of tea bags… all there, as plain as one of their own memories. Not only that, but countless things never put into writing, which would otherwise be lost to time.

Everything’s there, waiting in mind-space. Past, present, and future. Everything. They can’t change what anyone else thinks, and maybe they don’t have to care. Everything’s there, and it’s all so fascinating. So why shouldn’t they look?

Two hundred years ago, another party was happening at this house. New Year’s Eve 1959 was a sad one for Shady Sam Hodgson after his wife passed away that August. He tried to pretend like nothing happened, invited everyone he knew, got as much booze as he could in one place and got everybody wasted. He didn’t have a good time. On New Year’s Day, all he had was a horrible hangover, an ache in his heart, and the Party officials breathing down his neck.

A hundred years after that, there was no celebration. It was the first new year after the Collapse. The house was occupied by a group of refugees, who didn’t really feel like partying after having witnessed everything they’d ever known violently vanish into thin air. But one of them, Kara, had this idea that everyone’s survival and perseverance were worth celebrating. She couldn’t convince the others, but she raised their spirits by saving extra rations for a few weeks so she could cook a beautiful meal. Kara was a kind soul. She was a beacon of light in their difficult lives.

Today, the people here enjoy better times. They don’t know how lucky they are, really. But & knows everything. Their eyes dart to faces in the crowd and they know things. So many interesting things.

Patricia Preamble is holding on to the paper crane in her pocket, folded during the earlier writing activity. The crane is covered in words that bare her soul more than anything she’s ever published in her long career as a writer for Videogrammar. They’re beautiful words. She wants to keep them, to share them with someone someday when they’re not so fresh and real, but deep down, she knows she’s just going to throw the crane in the fire with everyone else.

Mark Feathers has been in love with Insight Imai since they starred in Beyond and Beyond together fifteen years ago. If he’d made a move back then, they could have had something, but it’s far too late now. Mark has changed for the worse, and Insight has found people that make him much happier than his former costar ever could. Still, Mark wants to make his feelings known. He won’t, but he’ll always think about it.

It’s all Joey Lakomy’s fault—he’s the one who cast those guys. He and his husband Elias are in the corner, talking about the year. Elias won’t say how much he misses his home, seven thousand kilometers away. All that distance, he thinks, is nothing compared to his love for Joey, so it shouldn’t hurt this much to be so far from home, should it? Especially not after all this time?

And after all this time, Willow Machado is thinking about dropping acid tomorrow. It’s been so long. They’re going to have one hell of a trip; the world will be a fucked-up yellow meat mall, just like the one in the film they spent years making with Tetra. Terrifying, but Willow won’t be scared. They kind of want to go back there.

There’s an interesting painting over the mantle. Gail painted it last year, and it bears a strong resemblance to another painting done twelve years ago by an artist on the other side of the world. The artist, like her work, is almost Gail’s twin, only twelve years older. Neither of them will ever know this.

Philippe spilled salsa on his shirt. He cleaned it off, but he still smells like it. He already spilled beer on the same shirt the other day. He’s washed it since then, but he can’t seem to stop spilling things on it. Before beer it was pizza sauce, and before that it was chili. It only happens when he’s wearing this shirt, and it’s his favorite shirt! It must be cursed. His girlfriend finds the situation highly amusing. She calls him “Spillippe” and they both laugh.

Miriam Lucid wishes she got a chance to talk to Ramona while she was here. She had so many good questions for them. Back at Ramona’s other party, she and Deidre are cuddling and making up, while Roy and his other friends belt bad karaoke and slam down root beer floats. No one is paying any attention to the clock as it ticks toward midnight. They’re having too much fun for that.

Fun, fun, nothing but fun. Until & thinks the wrong thing. And they always do.

Tetra’s over there in the corner, talking to Dawn and Gail, and she looks over at them and & knows suddenly why she was acting distant and uncomfortable earlier. How she’s been feeling ever since she heard the news. Her college friend, her respected colleague, her buddy, her pal, omniscient. How that shook her up. Changed not just their relationship, but her world.

It scared her. She’s terrified of &, but she doesn’t want to be. She wants to be empathetic. This whole thing just freaks her out so much, and she feels so bad about it.

She doesn’t want & to know this. She doesn’t want to hurt them. She’s really a good person.

& wants to cry.

Tetra looks up, holds up a glass, clinks a fork on it. “Hey! Hey everyone!” she calls. The room quiets. Her pocket watch, older than this house, swings on its chain as she raises it gracelessly, stills it with her hand and reads the time. “It is now—five minutes to midnight!”

Cheers all around. & wants to explode.

“Which means—” Tetra continues. She’s been drinking too, anyone could hear it in her voice. But she keeps it together like she always does. Nothing could break her. She’s invincible.

“Fire time!” Dawn interjects. “Everybody outside!”

The crowd rushes forward. Where is Liz? She’s too far ahead. She’s already outside. Everyone’s pushing each other, but they leave more space around &, as if they’ve got some contagious disease—no one could forget, no matter how much they drink or how much fun they have. It’s more transparent now, actually. They’d all be much more comfortable if & wasn’t here.

But they make it outside, and they make it to the fire. Tetra, Dawn and Gail stand behind it on one of the rock benches. It casts a hot glow on them as it flicks higher, higher into the air, obscuring them slightly. The way they’re standing in the light, they look ancient and wise, like the Greek Muses. Tetra is posed with her arms raised in midair, still dangling her pocket watch, counting the seconds. She catches &’s eye and flinches.

There’s Liz. Right there. She is within sight. They can make it to her. They try not to push or touch anybody, but the guests are all startled by them anyway, turning their heads, expressions changing as they walk by. Discomfited. Disturbed. Like they’ve seen a ghost. And then there’s Liz.

She’s by the fire, where she’s just dropped something in to watch it burn. Everyone’s burning things. Their thoughts and hangups. To move on. For a moment, & forgets why they’re so upset, and all they remember is the paper with the two words that must be destroyed. This has to be done before they can talk to Liz. It’s important somehow.

So they stand back in the darkness, on the edge of tears, folding it into a paper plane. With a sharp flick of their wrist, they send it sailing into the fire. It lands right in the center of the pit, where it turns to ash instantly.

“Hey—”

& jumps. Liz is right there. Her face is half in darkness, half in firelight. Like the half-moon above, but warm like the sun. She takes one look at their face and hugs them.

“I’m glad I found you,” she says. “Where’d you get off to?”

& can barely form words. “I—”

She lets them go and holds them at arm’s length. The lit half of her face transforms into a worried expression. “Are you okay? You look upset. What’s wrong?”

Her concern is so real and strong that & can feel it within themself. “Liz…” They stare at her.

“Yeah?” She stares back, eyes full of love.

& starts to cry.

“Oh… oh no…” She wraps her arms around them again. “Hey, don’t cry—it’s okay! Everything is gonna be okay, okay? Shh…”

“She’s scared of me,” they sob. “She’s so scared of me… All my friends… Everyone’s scared of me.”

It’s one minute to midnight. The Muses are counting down. All around them, people are chanting. But the watch is a half-second slow. They’ll be late to the new year.

The change is close at hand now. Everyone screams:

FIVE!

FOUR!

THREE!

TWO!

ONE!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

There’s an explosion of noise and motion and excitement. People are jumping, toasting their glasses, kissing each other in the firelight. & can’t see, with their face pressed into Liz’s shoulder, but they know what’s going on. Tetra is lighting sparklers from the fire and passing them around. She waves one at the moon, encircling it with glittering shards of light.

Liz is still holding & tight, rubbing their back and whispering. She is unmoved by the chaos or by &’s sobs. “It’s alright. It’s alright. It’s a new year. Everything’s alright.”

Finally, & pulls away, hiccuping. “I’m sorry,” they choke.

“It’s okay. D’you wanna get out of here?”

She’s smiling sadly with tired eyes. She’s drunk and exhausted and sick of everything, and yet she’s this kind. It’s enough to pull another sob from &’s sore throat. All they can do is nod, and she takes their hand.

—

They walk home. It’s a very long walk, and it’s a very cold night, but they can’t take the train. & would be recognized, and nothing would be worse right now than being recognized.

They talk. & tries to explain what happened, and Liz listens like she always does. Well, not quite. She usually gives them space, enough words to convey her empathy and soothe their troubled spirits, but not so many words that they become crowded. She’s seen & through so many crises, she’s perfected her method of managing them. But & can’t think about that. They can’t think about what they’re doing to her when they cry on her shoulder.

Anyway, this time is different. She’s in drunken good spirits, and she won’t be dragged down by &’s misery. She’s listened to what they had to say, and as soon as they were done, she immediately began talking, hardly letting them get a word in.

“No matter what anyone thinks,” she’s saying, “you’re you! You’re just you! Like—omniscient or not, you’re still you! Nothing that you know, or don’t know, or find out, on purpose or on accident or anything—none of it changes that you’re you. You’re a human being.”

& knows that, most of the time. It’s other people who seem to have a problem with the idea. Hearing Liz say it is comforting, in any case. If only the rest of the world could think of it her way. But the rest of the world doesn't know them like she does.

“It’s fucked up that people treat you like this,” she continues. “Fucked up, I’m telling you. They don’t even realize how fucked up it is! It’s fucked up!”

They can’t help but laugh.

“And I know what you’re gonna say. Oh, but I can’t blame them. Yes you can. At a certain point they’ve gotta—like, I got used to it. It took me a while, but—you remember. I fucking—got over it. I made the effort. To understand. Because you’re my friend! You’re my best friend. You know that, right? I fucking love you so much. Don’t ever forget it.”

This is far from the first time she’s said something to that effect, but the way she says it now, so brazen and overflowing with emotion, utterly unashamed—it twists &’s heart into knots with the most painful love they’ve ever felt. It brings tears to their eyes.

Liz steps over a puddle, pulling & along by their linked arms. She turns to look at them. Her voice softens. “Oh no… Did I say something wrong?”

“No!” & wipes their eyes with their coat sleeve, trying to force a smile. “I just love you a lot. I—I fucking love you so much, too. That’s all. I promise.”

“Good!” she exclaims. “We fucking love each other so much. And that means we can get through anything!”

& sniffles. “Even this?”

“Especially this!” She raises her other arm in a fist, a gesture of determination. “It’ll—okay, it probably won’t blow over, and nothing’s gonna be like it was before—”

“God, don’t remind me—”

“But that’s okay! Unexpected things happen and we gotta roll with them. Sometime soon it’s gonna be better than it is now. People will come around. And if they don’t?!” She raises her middle finger with finality. “Fuck ‘em.”

& laughs.

“There you go. Now you’re smiling.” Liz is smiling too, like a ray of sunshine on this dark and dreary street. “That’s what I like to see.”

“I just wish,” & starts, not having the sense to stop themself, “I just wish it could’ve stayed a secret.” And whose fault is it that it didn’t? It’s their greatest regret. Dread creeps back over them; nothing will ever be the same, and it’s all their fault.

But Liz just sighs. “I know, I know. You’ve said that a million times. I know! I wish that too, but it’s too late, okay? That skeleton’s come out of the closet.”

& laughs harder. “I don’t think that’s… a phrase.”

“It is now!” She gives them a ridiculously serious glare. “I made it so.”

They’ve come to a crossing, where people are gathered waiting for a train to pass. They stand back. & hides their face in Liz’s scarf, hoping no one will notice them.

No one does. The train passes. They cross.

“We’re almost there,” Liz says.

“We’re six blocks away.”

“We’re pretty close.” She’s breathing heavily, and her breath is freezing into white clouds in front of her. She shivers.

& looks at the sidewalk. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t just say I’m sorry and not say what you’re sorry for.”

“I’m sorry for breaking down and making us leave early and walk home.”

“Psssh. Whatever. No big deal.” Liz shrugs. “I’m sorry you had such a bad New Year’s Eve. I know it’s your favorite holiday, so that’s, like, a major bummer, which is so unfair, and like, it sucks.”

They pause. “It’s getting better now.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

“Still. I shouldn’t have ruined yours too.”

Liz is quiet for a minute. “It’s not ruined,” she finally says.

This seems extremely unlikely. & says nothing.

“I mean, it’s not over yet,” she goes on. “Because New Year’s Eve and New Year’s are part of the same holiday.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. And New Year’s is just getting started.”

“Maybe you’re right.” They lower their head as they walk past a group of rowdy guys. “But I’m still sorry.”

Liz makes an annoyed sound. “Look, it’s fine. Don’t say you’re sorry anymore. Just do different stuff.”

Do different stuff. That’s good advice. & just needs to do different stuff, stuff that doesn’t hurt them. More importantly, stuff that doesn’t hurt Liz.

“But keep being you,” she quickly adds.

“Right,” & says, frowning.

They walk silently for a long moment. Then Liz speaks. “You know what I think?”

“What?”

“2160 is our year.” She pokes &. “Our fucking year! You know?”

“I don’t know… I’m not sure.”

“Well, I’m sure. It’s our year! This is the year. Everything’s gonna be so cool. We’ve got a whole new year ahead of us to make sure.”

“I wish I had your confidence…”

Liz smiles, barely suppressing a yawn. “Well, you can borrow it for a while if you want.” She leans into &, resting her head on their shoulder as they walk the final stretch to home.

There’s a funny thing & has noticed about their power. They can use it to know what anyone really feels, with one exception. They can never use it on Liz.

They’ve been worried about that before, especially when they drink. They don’t want a window into her mind, even accidentally. It’s not right. Arguably, it’s not right for anyone else either, but it’s most wrong of all when it’s her. Maybe that’s why she’s blocked off from their power. Their desire to remain unaware is that strong.

They’re afraid to find out what they already know: they’ve hurt her. They’ve used her and they’ve introduced unimaginable complication to her life. They’ve tried to be a good friend, but they haven’t tried hard enough. They’re so scared that she hates them for it.

But they know, without looking in her mind, that she must not. They just have to trust that she’s telling the truth when she says she loves them. They just have to believe she sees them as a person, and forgives their many flaws and wrongdoings toward her and everyone else.

She’s really a good person. It almost makes & tear up again. They have a lot to make up to her.

Back at &’s apartment, Liz decides to stay the night. The two of them raid the fridge for leftovers and put on a movie they’ve both seen dozens of times. Halfway through, they’re too sleepy to stand it, so they head to bed.

First thing the next morning, sunlight shines into &’s heavy eyes. They forgot to close the blinds. It’s cold, but warm under the covers. Liz is still holding them.