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Sequence 1 Merge 5, Urban Super-Natural Ralf, Ferret, offspring of Muse His fingers itched, sitting there in the HR office, to take his phone and write down the idea. It was bouncing in his head. Magnetic levitation didn’t have to be as complicated as people made it. All they needed was super cooled magnets at room temperature, and that wasn’t a question of temperature, but one of motion, it was getting the atoms as still as possible that created the super-cooled effect, and he had this idea that should take them part of the way. He so wanted—needed—to write it down, but his phone was in Jeremy’s jacket. His friend had asked for it, because they needed to focus on what the HR rep would say, and him typing while they talked wouldn’t be conductive to resolving whatever this was about. Something about sabotaging other’s work? He hadn’t paid attention to that. He’d had this idea about extending the range of his gun. Range was just a combination of aerodynamic, mass, and propulsion, and propulsion was all about the gunpowder, and he had this new composition that would generate more newtons. He wanted to resolve the situation. He needed the work to pay for the part he couldn’t make from scratch, the tools that already existed, and he finally had a coworker in Jeremy who got how he thought; who didn’t constantly bitch about him getting ideas. He’d looked at them and barely understood most, he didn’t make a secret of that, but when he got a detail, he could use it, and even expand on some in ways Ralf hadn’t thought about. Jeremy was a little too interested in mundane details like, could the idea be made right now. Like that mattered. Tests were just a question of building the needed equipment. But Jeremy didn’t force him to only think like him. The first time he’d wanted to make a change to one of Ralf’s idea, he’d been careful to the point Ralf had to tell him to get to the point. Then he hadn’t understood why Jeremy had been worried. Of course, Ralf was okay with it. Didn’t Jeremy get that there was nothing more amazing, well other than his own ideas, than watching someone be inspired by his work? He had another phone in a pocket. He could write on that— “Am I boring you, Mister Cyan?” “Y— sorry, distracted.” People hated being told they were boring. Jeremy had told him that. The importance of mitigating their reactions. Fuck, he hated how messy people were. There had to be a way to make them more efficient. Maybe there was a way to remove all those annoying emotions that got in their way? “Ralf, she asked you a question,” Jeremy said. Where was his phone? It would have recorded the conversation, and he could read the question. Right, Jeremy had it. Maybe that had been a mistake. Okay. What had Jeremy told him to do? “Can you repeat the question?” The Rottweiler on the other side of the desk was clearly annoyed. Had that not been what he was supposed to say? Why didn’t people come with a user manual? He should write one about himself and hand it over so they wouldn’t waste his time. Where was his phone? “What are you going to do about the accusations that you and Mister Bradshaw are sabotaging your coworker’s projects?” He frowned. He hadn’t done any of that. He looked at Jeremy. “They claim the accidents that have been happening all morning are our doing because they happened to people I don’t like.” “I don’t care who you like.” “But as his friend,” the woman said, “and with a history of leaving things lying around that have exploded—” “I just forgot they were there. Had a new idea to write down.” “Yes, that explanation is on file.” She didn’t believe him; that was what the tone meant. Reading that psychology treatise hadn’t been a waste after all. He’d been bored out of his mind, and that had been the only book within reach. Steward’s maybe? Still, reading it had occupied fifteen minutes, and then he’d had this idea— “Still,” she continued, “the circumstantial evidence—” “Isn’t admissible,” he said. That he knew. He didn’t remember who, but an old friend had handed him a book about the laws and insisted he read it. He’d did it under protest, but it had quickly come in handy as people wrongfully accused him of stealing their ideas. Like ideas could be stolen. “This isn’t a court of law, Mister Cyan. This is an automotive company, and this is about keeping the peace.” Jeremy snorted. “Do you have something to say, Mister Bradshaw?” “Look, we all know this has nothing to do with keeping the peace. If it was, Sandusky is the one you’d be talking with. He’s the one who’s going out of his way to make my life difficult.” “So you are admitting to having a motive to sabotage his project.” “I thought this wasn’t a court of law?” “What do the security records show?” Ralf asked. “What records?” she asked. “Camera.” This couldn’t be one of those times when he spoke well above others. “Security.” “Mister Cyan, we aren’t a security state. We don’t spy on our employees.” He hadn’t mentioned spying, had he? He was confident he’d meant security. It wouldn’t be that difficult to build a micro camera; he could even have it be mobile. He already had a design for wireless transmission, so— “What are you doing?” she asked. He put the pad of paper in the desk and started the design. “Show you how to build a security network.” “Mister Cyan,” she said in a tone that even he understood she considered that wrong. He didn’t get why, so he glanced at Jeremy, who shook his head. Wasn’t when the problem was in the open the time to resolve it? He put the pad and pen in a pocket and waited. She looked at them. “Clearly, this isn’t going to be conductive to a solution.” He opened his mouth, but Jeremy squeezed his leg. The signal to stop whatever he was doing. Didn’t she want the solution? He had it. It was simple. People. “Alright,” she continued. “While you are correct that there is no evidence showing you did anything. Your known animosity toward Mister Sandusky and Miss Hamilton, and your habit of leaving explosive devices lying around, lends itself to you two being responsible, so—” “I just forgot I’d set them down.” “Yes, that’s on record. So I’m sending you home early.” “Work doesn’t end for another—” What time was it? Where was his phone? There was a clock on the wall. “Two hours and sixteen minutes.” “Yes, I’m aware. That is what sending you home early means, Mister Cyan.” “The contract says we have to work until—” “HR gets to make on-the-spot changes to resolve problems.” “If there’s a problem, I can write you a solution,” he offered, taking out the pad of paper. “You are the problem, Mister Cyan,” she said through clenched teeth. “You and Mister Bradshaw. If not for how productive you are, I’d advocate sacking you immediately. This company doesn’t need trouble makers like you.” He looked at Jeremy. They weren’t causing trouble. They were both efficient workers and had a lot of ideas to bring. How— “So, you will go home.” “The—” “Now,” she ordered. “If you keep arguing, it’s in my power to make sure it’s for longer than the rest of the day, Mister Cyan.” Jeremy stood, so Ralf did too. In social situations, it was better to follow his friend’s example. “Let’s get out of here,” Jeremy said. “This is clearly not productive.” If it wasn’t productive, there was no point in remaining. * * * * * “Fucking nepotism.” His friend kicked a stone that ricocheted off a wall, across the road to crack a car in the company lot. Ralf thought that was Sandusky’s car. He recalled the man going on and on about how good it was. It wasn’t. Ralf could think of dozens of ways he could improve it, but Jeremy had told him not to waste his time. Sandusky wasn’t worth it. Wasn’t he the son of one of the boards? That was what Jeremy meant by nepotism. “The guy’s got no skill, no imagination. When I was on his team all he did was repeat what the rest of us brought to the table. Not one time did he actually help. If at least he’d been able to bring the different ideas together into something workable, it would have been something, but—” “You’re good at that.” “Thank you. All he did was repeat the last person to speak like they’d discovered zero point energy.” “Still working on that. I think I’ll have it soon.” He made notes on his phone. “Fuck, I need a drink.” “It isn’t five yet.” “It’s five O’Clock somewhere.” “Accounting for time zones, by the time you get there, it won’t be five anymore.” Jeremy laughed. “Oh, don’t you ever change, Ralf.” Why would he change? Well, it was possible he could make himself more efficient. He looked through his note. Hadn’t he had an idea about that before? An implant that would record his ideas as he had them. Way more efficient than having to write them down. And he could add to that. Apply the wireless communication design he had somewhere. He could also change his digestive system. Install a more efficient energy storage system. A better energy conversion system while he was at it. He’d need a way to do the work himself while operating on himself. So, a surgery table that could be remotely controlled. “Come on,” Jeremy said, and Ralf looked up. They weren’t by the company building anymore. They were in the city. By a bar. Rump-us. They’d been here before, he thought. “Please put the phone away, Ralf. This is social time.” That was Jeremy’s code for needing him to be there, instead of in his ideas. Ralf had explained he was always in his ideas. They barely ever stopped, but Jeremy had told him he was okay with the illusion Ralf was entirely there. And that was easier if he wasn’t writing on his phone. Ralf put it away and followed him into the bar. It wasn’t busy. So it would make for a comfortable place to work, except this was social time. “Scotch, neat,” Jeremy said to the bear behind the bar. Right, alcohol. “Water.” A quick search through his pocket let him find the alcohol dissolving pills. He hadn’t liked his first experience with alcohol, so he’d designed them for those times when circumstances force him to drink. “Really?” the man said, his Irish accent thick. “You come in a bar to get a glass of water?” “And whatever Jeremy’s having,” Ralf added, offering Jeremy a pill. “I’m fine.” The three glasses on the counter, Ralf popped the pill and downed the water before taking the other glass and following Jeremy to a table. How long would this social time last? * * * * * “Fuck the lot of them,” Jeremy slurred to the waiter as he placed a new glass before him and suspiciously eyed Ralf’s still half filled one. He’d sipped his. He wasn’t in the hurry to drink Jeremy was. Someone cursed, and a glass shattered. The bar had filled, and with more people had come more accident. They did average above the mean, but those weren’t Ralf’s problem. Still, if the bar had hover tray to hold—no. This was still social time. Jeremy needed him there. So he had to try. Still, hovering was just about countering gravity. That only meant interacting with graviton, and that could— “Do you have any idea how hot you are?” Jeremy said. Ralf frowned and patted his pockets. He had a thermometer in here, somewhere. He had to make a filling system for his pockets. He had too much stuff in them. This design was losing its efficiency. Jeremy laughed. “Not like that.” How else could he be hot if not getting sick? “Your obliviousness to those things are so part of your charm, Ralf. I don’t understand how it is no one’s snatched you up yet.” There had been that kidnapping attempt when he was fourteen. He’d quickly made a capacitor and had shorted the van, and the people in it, then ran. What had happened to them? He’d meant to look them up, find out why they’d tried to take him, but had gotten distracted. “If I were more confident, I would so kiss you, take you to bed and have the best night of our lives.” He looked at the Siamese cat. Sex? This was what it was about? He almost reached for his phone. He’d had an idea about that when he’d seen Jeremy walking out of the bathroom naked. The things they could do together. The things he could try with him. See how they compared with the other times he’s experimented with sex. And sex was enjoyable. “Okay.” Jeremy had trouble focusing on him. “Okay…?” he couldn’t seem to figure out how to continue. “Let’s have sex.” “We can’t have sex here.” He realized something. “You want to have sex with me?” “Yes.” “Why?” Was this how people experienced him? Jeremy had made the offer, but the alcohol was disrupting his memory. Ralf’s distraction as he went from one idea to the other could seem similar. He opened his mouth and closed it. The most efficient way was to layout the experiment he intended to try. How they’d be pleasurable for both of them. But he’d done that once, and the result hadn’t been conductive to the sex happening. She’d left in a huff, calling him weird. Jeremy would understand, possibly, but he was also the one who tried to teach him how to say certain things so people didn’t react negatively. This was a good place to put those to the test and see what happened. The worse outcome was that sex didn’t happen. A shame, but he had other projects he could focus on. “You’re good looking,” he said. Jeremy was well formed for men, healthy, lean musculature, well proportioned and sized cock. He’d run a comparative analysis once about physical attributes and their likeliness to end up mated, and Jeremy was well in the ‘will get mated’ category. So why wasn’t he? A question for later. But that was the physicality. His research had shown there was more to it than the physical. That was on his phone, but this was social time. So he’d have to rely on his memory. An implant would be so much more effective here. He could—no. Social time. Jeremy needed him here. “You’re kind. Smart. You pay attention to what I need and how I think. You make me feel like I’m there, instead of just something to utilize to get results.” It really made no sense that a man like Jeremy wasn’t mated. “In fact, I don’t understand how it is you—” Jeremy’s mouth was on his, his tongue pressing against his lips. Right, this was a kiss. Ralf parted them, then reach to put a hand at the back of Jeremy’s neck. Someone moaned, and he was surprised to realize it was him. That had been unexpected. It hadn’t happened in the previous experiments. Jeremy fell back in his seat, grinning. “You’re a great kisser.” “Thank you. I’ve sought to perfect the method in the few chances I’ve had to experiment.” “Few?” “Seven.” “Including this time?” “Eight,” he corrected. “You got this good kissing only eight people?” He asked, surprised. “Five. There was a woman when I was nineteen who offered multiple opportunity to experiment kissing and….” Was this the over sharing Jeremy had warned him about? “You’ve had sex with a woman?” “Two.” “And three guys?” “Only six.” Jeremy frowned. “But you only kissed three?” “Yes.” He realized something he hadn’t considered before. “Is kissing supposed to be part of sex?” “Well, I like kissing during sex.” Ralf nodded. “I enjoyed kissing you, so that can be arranged.” “You’re serious.” “Yes, I can kiss you while we have sex. As I said, I enjoyed it.” “I….” Jeremy stood and held onto the table for steadiness. “Okay. I guess we’d better head home. Does that alcohol pill you offered work to get rid of my tipsiness? I don’t really want to have sex drunk.” “No. It’s designed to be taken before ingesting alcohol. It works by binding to the alcohol…. Once it’s in your blood, it can’t help.” That was a flaw he hadn’t considered. He took his phone out. He’d have to research what happened to alcohol once it entered the bloodstream, then alter the design so the binding agents could cross the stomach lining. He’d have to make sure— The hand that took his was gentle. “Ralf. How about you stay with me?” “I am already here,” he replied. “And I stay in the same house as you.” Jeremy giggled. “I mean you.” He tapped his head. “Stay here. Out here with me. It’s lonely when you don’t.” How could Jeremy be lonely among so many people? Was it the alcohol speaking? Alcohol was known to have odd effect on some people. He’d never studied Jeremy drunk before, so he didn’t know how it affected him. Possibly this was an experiment they could run? Maybe in conjunction— “Sorry.” Jeremy smiled. “I know it’s hard for you to get out of your head, so thank you for trying.” “I don’t understand why you’re so patient with me, Jeremy.” “Because I—” Something exploded behind the bar, and beer foam was in the air. “I think that was a keg,” Ralf said. The arc was consistent with the viscosity of beer foam, and he’d noticed a couple of kegs ready to be put into use. Jeremy giggled again. “Maybe we should get out of here before we drown in all that foam.” “There isn’t enough to drown in. It would take—” he was prevented from doing the calculations needed to fill the space with enough foam by the finger on his lips. That was surprisingly distracting. “How about we leave?” Jeremy said, and Ralf nodded, then stared at the offered arm. With a laugh, the Siamese cat took his hand and put it in. “Now we can go.” The night air was surprisingly cool after the heat of the bar. “I love the stars.” Jeremy was looking up as a sky rendered black by the light pollution. “You can’t see the stars, Jeremy.” “I can still love them. Shining out there. Suns with planets and life on each of them just waiting for us to find them.” “There isn’t any evidence of—” Jeremy laughed. “Evidence is overrated, Ralf.” That was demonstrably false. Evidence was everything. If he could show something worked, it was real. If he couldn’t then it wasn’t. “Imagination, Ralf. That’s where it’s at. Considering yours, I’m surprised you don’t think like that.” Imagination? “Is that what you think I have?” “Where else do all those ideas of your come from?” Everywhere, nowhere. They were just there half the time. The other half they probably had been there too, and he’d just been distracted. “I’m so glad you’re my friend, Ralf.” “I’m glad you are my friend as well,” he replied without having to consider it. His life was demonstrably better with Jeremy in it. “Well, looky here,” someone in the dark alley said. “If it isn’t a couple of lovers.” The hyena stepped out and into the light. “Ain’t it a shame one of you smells so fucking good.” He grinned, and his teeth were much larger than statistic said hyena teeth should be. “Ain’t that right?” he called behind him, and others stepped out of the alley, sniffing the air. “You smell like there’s enough there for all of us.” “I think we should go to the other side of the street,” Jeremy said. “Sorry for disturbing you.” A hyena was before them as they turned, much faster than should have been possible. It could be a trick of the light. It was possible he’d already been there and his attention hadn’t been fully in that direction. “Now,” she said, grinning that far too toothy smile at Jeremy. “Don’t be like that. We just want to have you for dinner.” She laughed. Ralf was surprised at how angry the statement made him. Then he understood. That had been a threat. He reached in a pocket, had to search more than he liked until his hand closed on what he wanted. When he got home, he was redesigning his pockets to have a better filing system. He put the muzzle of the gun in her face. “You aren’t inviting either of us to eat at your place.” She stared at the gun. Sniffed the air. “Ralf?” Jeremy asked. “Where did you pull that gun from?” He looked at his friend. “My pocket, where else?” Unfortunately, that distracted him from her, and he didn’t see the punch until it impacted his face.