The Tides That Bind Us [AfroFuturism]

Smoke

The longer deeper Zaharah got into the University's art programme, the more she wanted to escape to the mainland. Living in Denden meant taking all her classes online, since the University hadn't set up any lecture halls there yet. While going to class in her pyjamas was freeing, it didn't make the art programme any less brutal.

And she hated being home alone. When the apartment was quiet, her thoughts became loud. Jade was at school, or on her way from school at this hour, and Markus had gone out to run some errands. Her art history lecture had ended an hour ago and she'd laid the base for a watercolour assignment. One more semester, she reminded herself.

The latest Beradeaux album blared from her computer's speakers, but even the singers smooth jazzy voice and longing to drown in the fiery soul of the sun didn't chase away her anxious thoughts. Thoughts of a six legged shadow falling over her, red eyes burning a hole through her skull.

Get it together. Zaharah shook the image from her head. Exams were two weeks away, and she should've been studying like a good student. Instead, she laid sprawled out on her bunk, phone in hand, blank email opened and addressed to Cammi. The cursor blinked in the top left corner, and her fingers hovered over the keyboard.

Zaharah didn't know what had possessed her to do this – a little demon called curiosity, perhaps. As if opening the email wasn't stupid enough. But she needed to know if that person in the video was her.

"What should I write?" she asked Skorpi. He'd gathered her braids into a nest and made himself comfy. The mechpet only offered a beep in return—a man of few words as always.

Who the fuck are you? She typed. You think this is some kind of game? I'll—

She erased it. If the email was bait, meant to get her all riled up. The angry approach would give Cammi what she wanted.

Maybe.

The music changed, the final chords tapering off into the next song. Beradeaux sung of building castles of moondust and twirling with her lover on floors of argent light. Zaharah thought back to her meeting with the Director, the shouting match with Doctor Cyan. Neither of them were childish enough to do something like this.

What if this person was trying to help her? The benefit of the doubt approach could get her more info. Maybe. If the Director wasn't her friend, if Dwight had lied to her, she wouldn't know what to do with that information. 

Why can't you send me the rest yourself? Zaharah typed. Her finger stopped over send. There'd be no going back once she pushed it. She wasn't good at making rash decisions.

Do it. Rip the bandaid off, Jade would tell her. Now that girl was brave to the point of almost being reckless. She had no problems jumping headlong into the deep end of the pool. Meanwhile, Zaharah had to stick her toes in, wade through the shallows for a while. Then again, she wasn't a strong swimmer, and it was easier to get out of the shallows if things went bad.

She could deal with Dwight if he found out. The Director, however. If she screamed the way she had at Doctor Cyan, Zaharah would fall apart, into bits and pieces, all over the floor. They'd be sweeping her up from the cracks between the tiles for weeks.

Sending this email would be the stupidest thing she'd ever done. Stupider than that time she went snooping around the Pigeon Run and some seedy guy offered her drugs. She hit send and tossed her phone aside like it was on fire. If this went bad, she'd blame Jade for inspiring her.

The front door clicked. Speak of the devil. Jade bounced in and dropped her bag at the door.

"How was—" Her words were cut off when Jade dive bombed on top of her, jumping up and down like a toddler hyped up on sugar. Skorpi latched onto her braids and held on, lest he got tossed behind the bed.