Black Hole Heartbeat

Forr - 88

Forr wheeled Lavell's coffin into their workspace.

His workspace. He couldn't bring

himself to open it. His bionic hand touched the clasps. She was still alive in his hand. Her

pulse intermingled with his own.

There was a knock at the door. A short melody. The way Lavell used to knock. His head

jolted up but it was only Rusalka. He nodded for her to enter. She moved much slower

than she usually did, more tentative.

Rusalka went to sit in Lavell's chair. Then she stopped and just stood by the workstation.

Something on his face must have given away his panic.

"I thought you might want some company," she said.

Forr's eyes moved up from the workbench. They rolled past two unfinished bracelet

augmentations Lavell would never complete. Rusalka rubbed her elbow awkwardly.

"I'd like to tell you a story, if that's okay?"

Forr nodded. It was a long time before she spoke again.

"I've been you before. I've been here. And all the kind words and the smiles and the

hugs, they don't count for anything. People just use you to get their sadness out, and

you're expected to soak it all up."

Forr's hand fell away from the coffin lid.

"Other than Elizabeth and Brack, I don't think anyone will miss her."

He meant it as a complement. They were cast-offs, beloved only by their own.

"I'm not trying to give you advice. Maybe this is me getting my own sadness out. I've

never told this story before. I haven't always been such a loner. Well, I have. But I used to

be alone

with somebody. Koller. We knew each other since we were children. Smart.

Brave. Kind. His fur was dark and coarse and oh god I loved him. One of those real ink

loves."

"Ink loves?"

"Translators never pick up Umbra expressions. It's a love that's like ink. From the moment

it touches you, it stains. And you can never wash it off. Koller was my ink love. We used to

do what you used to do. You'd probably think we were less moral, but we'd argue we

were more. Koller loved Human lore, Human literature. You ever hear the story of Robin

Hood?"

Forr nodded, "Elizabeth told me it once. Rob the rich, feed the poor."

"Koller loved that story. So that was what we did. We stole from people who were

corrupt, and gave the takings to people who deserved it. But of course, we were two

poor Umbra from a city in the gutter. We deserved a lot of it."

Rusalka's face started to brighten. She paused to enjoy the memory.

"Then he died. Far too young. And I was left all alone. He didn't bleed out on the

battlefield like a fable. He had a muscle wasting disease. He called it cancer. It wasn't

that, but he said he liked how things sounded in Human English. It was a language made

for writers. By the end, it was all he talked in. Made me turn my translator off to hear it.

Cancer. Cancel. There's a poetry in that. But all the damn poetry in the world couldn't

save him. The cancer ate him. The hardest thing was how everyone told me I was brave.

We're the same in a lot of ways, you and I. Emotion isn't expected of us. But the bravest

thing I ever did was let myself cry. The strongest I've ever felt was when I was curled up

in a closet, tears streaming down my face. I know Krei can't cry but –"

"We shed our fur during trauma, which I suppose is our version of crying. I didn't know

Umbra cried either. I thought it was a Human and Torfus trait."

"My species is very private. What I'm trying to say to you is, you need to get through this

your way. Not the way other people expect you to. It was a lot of pressure on me so I

want you to know... I need you to know... it's okay. Not being okay is okay."

She took a breath and composed herself.

"I'm not going to tell you it gets better. But it does change. The pain becomes something

else. I miss Koller every day. I look around and it's like there's no more green in the world.

That's the closest I can get to describing it. Like I can remember that there used to be

another colour, but I just can't see it. It doesn't exist anymore. It's different, and it'll

always be different. But it can still be good."

Rusalka turned towards the door. Forr reached out across the workbench, his bionic

hand looping around her wrist.

"Wait. Will you stay with me while I open the casket?"

Rusalka gently twisted her fingers loose.

"No. And you'll thank me for that later."

He felt a lock of fur fall loose.