Ethos & Amity

Chapter Five: Breathe, Idealist. Breathe.

"'Fresh for facts', I said," Marvus mumbled into a cup of cloudy chestnut simmilan tea. "While I feel like a beat up old carpet."

He scanned the crescent-shaped venue of the museum's Welcome Lounge, an open space, not unlike a theatre, highlighted by alabaster walls illuminated by olive lines and ornate copper light fixtures hanging overhead. An automat with digital controls allowed patrons to select from over one hundred meal types, seven hundred and thirty beverages. Young people from multiple nations sat together, drinking, laughing, hands crossing tables to point out the correct answers to questions in workbooks. Brown skin. White skin. Orange. Friends. Acquaintances. Romantics. Community. Quiet pictures of organized chaos, whispered tones, the latest fashions, a rising debate over whether or not the Forgault Chasm Sea Wisp should be classified as endangered or not.

Marvus tired of the scene, no matter how inspiring it was to witness youthful minds at work and play. It began to remind him of the struggle with his unwelcome guest. For every win, two losses, or so it seemed. Fatigue wore heavy, made the body ache. Although he advised his class to take a sabbatical for refreshment, Marvus found it did him no good.

Let's take a walk.

He got out into the back corridor, little used except by museum staff. Private. Cozy, with a few small wooden chairs and square tables for sitting, hidden behind a verdigris valance of exotic flora. Marvus paced, at first, before pulling up a chair. He found breathing easier here amongst the tropical greenery. No people. No auras. No confusion. Just himself and his wild barometer of jumpy emotions.

Marvus received five minutes of absolute composure from the universe. Then, his speaker beeped.

He fumbled for it, dropped it, recovered and pressed the button to open the call, all of this seemingly in one fluid motion of foolishness.

"H-h-hello?"

"Marv?"

Salima? Oh, good grief, not now!

"Salima? It's great to hear from you! Where are you? Have you landed yet?"

"I'm almost there. I thought I'd be on a classic flight, but my director upgraded me to the suborbital. Marv, you cannot believe how gorgeous our world is so high up! So much green and blue below, pink and saffron in the sunrise sky. Endless hues! I took pictures, and will send them to your computer."

Of course she would. Marvus always got the first pics from Salima. First connection. First smile. First hugs. First laughter with a snort she wasn't embarrassed about. He knew. He knew she more than liked him. On a good day he would admit that he felt the same. But whereas her imagination foresaw a triumphal romance for them, Marv's technical view and agamic vibe noticed nothing more than a great beginning, marred by a tragic middle and desolate breakup his friends and the world would blame aromantic Marv for.

No. Not having it. But her voice wipes away the grime of the day.

"Sure. Thanks. So...how was the trip? And were you greeted by the Premiere Elder? I hear he welcomes every flight."

"It was a chance for me to get some sleep," she chortled, and Marvus added to her laugh with a slight one of his own. "And yes! The Elder was there, in full leather garb draping down to the tarmac. He offered me five feathers from the sillish bird. You know? The one that came back from the brink of extinction?"

"How could I forget? We protested outside the Natural Rights Committee offices for weeks." Marv relaxed into the chair more, exhaled. The past came calling. "Remember the shouting match Daya had with that politico? The tall one with the bushy eyebrows?" More laughter, but from Marvus, a full blown eruption born out of recalling Daya's petite face grow as red as a supernova.