Ex Lacrima Remnant

Track #23 – Man on the Moon

“Oh, come on. Please, fit in!”

Primula tried her best at compressing Riri to squeeze it into her second suitcase. Yet, whatever the effort she put into it, she couldn’t seem to find a way to rearrange the content so that her favorite bunny plushie would fit comfortably. No way she went to space without it, not after she got accustomed to having it around, hugging its soft body when her mind was overcome with dark thoughts. A long sigh. She couldn’t give up. She just had to face the problem more analytically, maybe. She looked into the content of the suitcase (yellow with purple and pink bunny stickers plastered all over it), browsed through her list once again. Her tactical gear took a whole suitcase by itself, leaving her with just one additional piece of luggage for her personal belongings. Clothes, shoes, medicines, Riri, her high-fidelity music player, a small collection of printed novels, ten bags of chips. On paper, a small amount of stuff. In practice, fitting it all together made her skin crawl. She glanced again at the pile of clothes neatly folded on her cot. The absence of her favorite bunny hoodie weighed on her like a stone. It was gone. Ripped open by her vines to save herself. To save Mal and Felce. To suck the nutrients out of a dead human kid. Her eyes almost leaked water, when she thought about it. She was so happy, the first time she saw it. It fit her aesthetic wondrously, made her feel finally in control of her style. Now, it lay in the trash. Shredded. Because those clothes were made for humans, not for rhizomes. And, even if she resembled one, she couldn’t possibly be human – no matter how much Mal insisted on the contrary. She pulled out her stuff from the suitcase once again, spreading it on the cot, trying to come out with a plan on how to rearrange them. Maybe, if she started with Riri…

Knock knock.

A noise at her door.

Knock knock.

Prim turned around, looked at the clock. Twenty-four twenty. Pretty late for an official inspection. Unusual, even. So, she had to be someone else.

“Who’s there?”

“Prim? It’s Mal. I’m here with Felce, can we come in?”

Mal. With Felce. At that time of the evening. That was at least as unusual as an inspection. Yet, she had no reasons to not let them in. She pushed the button on the side of the door, let it slide open. The unruly black locks of Mal’s hair filled her vision, close to the silhouette of a woman with tanned skin, black hair, black marks under her eyes and…

“Felce? Your branches?! Where are your branches?”

“Direct as fuck, as always. You could at least say ‘hi’ first, couldn’t you?”

Prim glanced at her again, failing to understand the deal. Where her majestic deer-like antlers stood till just a couple hours earlier, now there were only two stumps wrapped in white gauze and bandages. Those branches were Felce’s trademark, she was so proud of them, groomed them whenever she could, cut their leaves every day to keep them fit. Seeing her without them felt just… wrong. Felce massaged her stumps, looked away. Her eyes were swollen, almost as if she leaked water out of them.

“They… got in the way of the spacesuit helmet, so the iron bitch ordered me to cut them, effective immediately. I… pruned them myself. In front of the mirror. Things… went messy. So, I… kind of asked your ‘emotional support pet’ to help me dress them.”

Felce’s voice was akin to a whisper, far from her loud, boisterous usual self. Prim’s hand delicately reached for the wrapped remains of the branches, touched them softly. Only for Felce to jolt, step back as soon as her finger made contact.

“Lagash take you! No touching! It hurts like hell.”

“Sorry, it’s just…”

“Spare me the pity party, ‘kay? I’m… perfectly fine. They weren’t even… the most beautiful part of myself, right? I’m… I’m still a looker even without… without…”

Suddenly, Felce felt some pressure on her chest, around her back. Prim. Prim was. Hugging her? Just like that? Felce blinked, not able to make heads or tails of it, gazing down at the blond rhizome.

“What in Lagash are you doing, gal?”

“I’ve read on the comnet that being hugged by another person stabilizes your oxytocin levels and is a good relief for stress. There’s even some peer-reviewed research on it, even if not conclusive. So, I thought it could help.”

“...come on, seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Mal smirked, hid that embryo of a smile with his hand. That sort of behavior was so much Prim. Not understanding anything about human interactions, then browsing the comnet for answers, on forums mostly attended by teenage girls dealing with puberty, and then taking those answers as the truth. Much like when she let him rest in her lap after he gifted her that bunny plushie. To him, Primula felt like an alien that learned most of what she knew through second or third hand information. That side of her made her way more endearing that he expected – a treasure to be preserved at all costs. His eyes went to her opened suitcase, to the items scattered right outside of it. He grabbed one of the packs of chips, shook it in front of the rhizomes.

“Prim, don’t tell me you were going to bring chips to Atropos.”

Only to meet a flabbergasted gaze, complete with mouth wide open.

“W…wait! Is it not allowed?! Why is it not allowed?!”

“Because they could be dangerous, in reduced gravity. Everything that breaks easily can float around for hours and damage instruments.”

“So, no chips?”

“No chips.”

“But I’ve read that Atropos has a full ring habitat with artificial gravity!”

“Yes, but if somehow the ring stops…”

“…I see.”

Prim’s eyes darted to her suitcase, to the stuffed bunny lying right inside it.

“And… and Riri? I can bring Riri, right?”

Mal glanced at the plushie, picked it from the case, turned it around, looked for the tag. Washable in cold water, allergen-free, reduced-gravity-ready, NE-certified.

Someone did their homework. Guess there’s a sizable market for these things on the Moon.

He turned back to Primula, nodded vigorously.

“Don’t worry, it’s coming with us.”

Prim’s expression softened, as she slowly relented her grip on Felce. She leapt on the cot, like an excited rabbit, sat close to Mal, started browsing her stuff one more time.

“Is there anything else I can’t bring?”

“Mainly the medicines. Aside from them, you are good to go.”

“Alright.”

She looked at Mal again, noticing something different, something that was overshadowed by Felce’s long gone antlers. His eyebrow piercings. They were missing too. She reached for his forehead, her finger almost touching it. Only to stop, retract. Maybe, it hurt too, like it hurt Felce. Mal noticed her hesitation, patted her hair without waiting a second longer.

“It’s fine, them rings would go in the way of my helmet. What’s gonna stink is that I need to shorten my hair too, but I’m gonna do that tomorrow ‘fore my shower. Wanna keep my locks on for at least one more night.”

Prim looked down, without saying a word. Felce lost her branches. Mal his hair and piercings. While she lost her packs of chips. Everyone lost something in that exchange. But orders were orders, especially when coming from Captain Commander Lily. Not complying was not an option. Felce sat on the bed too, on the other side of Mal, leaning forward over her knees.

“Well, that sucks. Sent to that orbital coffin three days ‘fore the Turn. I was super looking forward to the celebrations, to all the people coming. Heck, I spent the last week going stores and buying decorations for my branches. Seven… different types of ribbons… because I couldn’t decide on the shape or the color. All for frickin’ nothing.”

Mal heaved a sigh too, crossing his hands.

“My family was looking forward to seeing me too. But, hey, it is what it is. Either that or we disappear in the underbelly of New Babylon tonight. But… we don’t know anyone down there that could help us hide, right?”

Felce groaned, rolled her eyes.

“Even if we had connections, that wouldn’t solve the problem, since we’d be wanted fugitives that can’t attend the celebrations. So, yeah. You’re right. We all got the short end of the stick up our asses.”

She glanced around the room, a room she had never been to before. A personal computer with bunny ears. A calendar with bunnies printed all over it. Photos of bunnies plastered on the walls. A hi-fi setup with sizable loudspeakers. A small PV device, with a thin layer of dust on its projector. A staple of magazines on several topics, some with ripped pages. Small gadgets on the shelves, plastic figures that looked right out of a second rate gacha machine. Overall, pretty orderly and precise, something not really speaking to her tastes. Still, that was Prim, for her. A rodent-obsessed Spear-type rhizome with the emotional brilliance of a pack of chips. Well, at least she didn’t try to act human, contrary to some of her peers. That sort of honesty felt refreshing. Prim was a rhizome and behaved like one. Which was probably why hanging around with her felt somewhat pleasant… and why her behavior sooner that afternoon felt even more shocking. Felce turned around to meet her gaze, while trying her best to sound natural.

“…thank you for refilling my water, back at the mall. If you didn’t do that, I’d be dead and buried.”

That wasn’t easy to say. Thank you. But she had to. She felt the need to. A shiver ran down her spine. If the iron bitch or the deputy iron bitch were in Prim’s place… they would have drained her remaining water instead. No need to keep a half-dried rhizome alive, when her nutrients can be used by another one. So, doing what Prim did was not only unusual – it was against their nature. And that’s why Felce was there, sitting on that cot, with her branches pruned. Because that blond rhizome went against her instincts to keep her alive. That had been hard to stomach. Prim. The most socially inept piece of plant matter that graced the precinct. Had saved her. Felce wouldn’t have done the same. She would have quickly dipped her roots in that dying body to get out as much water and lymph as she could, as it always had been. Her hand lifted a small bag, one with a cartoon shark drawn over it, pulled out a transparent envelope.

“Here. This is for you.”

Prim grabbed the item from her hands, delicately unwrapped it. A sleeveless sweatshirt. Pink. With a bunny-eared hoodie. And bunny decorations. Just like the one her vines destroyed. She audibly gasped, as she pulled it out of the plastic. Mal raised his thumb, wearing a tired smile. Felce simply looked away, gritting her teeth.

“Your pet and I went back to town to look for a new hoodie in another mall. We were told to stay put, but fuck the iron bitch and her orders. We said that we needed to buy some stuff for our trip to orbit and they let us out – simple and clean. So, here it is. Same size. Same model. The decoration pattern is a little different, but hey, it is what it is. We were starved for time and we grabbed what we could.”

She tapped her bandaged stumps, suppressing a grimace.

“Then, as soon as we came back, the bitch-in-chief slapped me with the pruning order. Next time, I’ll rip her damn flower out of her eye, so that she gets a taste of the pain! Bloody Lagash, it’s like having phantom limbs, a… almost as if they were still there...”

Prim brought the hoodie to her chest, caressed the fake bunny ears. She felt water accumulating in her eyes, though she didn’t understand why. She breathed, controlled her body. Every leak was a sin. Every drop was to be retained. But her lips couldn’t contain a smile. She hugged the sweatshirt, lulled it in her arms. Happy. She was happy. Despite everything that happened, she had never felt happier. A gift. From Mal and Felce. A gift. The second in two days. And a gift had to be reciprocated. That was the rule.

“…would you like to lie in my lap too, Felce?”

“Heck no, a ‘thank you’ is fine. I’ll leave that to your pet, if he likes it that much. I’m not into this rhizome-rhizome business, yes? You saved my life, I bought you a new hoodie. We’re even. Full stop. Right, pet?”

Mal nodded. He wouldn’t have minded lying in Prim’s lap like that morning, but it was completely unneeded – his life would have ended, weren’t it for her. So, it was like Felce said: they were even. If anything, they owed her something more. A sweatshirt for two lives was one hell of a bargain.

Suddenly, Felce snapped her fingers, gathered all eyes on her.

“Oh, yeah, speaking of phantom limbs… Agave is coming with us too. I’ve heard the deputy iron bitch ranting about it from two rooms away.”

Prim gulped, squinted her eyes.

“Agave? But… but she’s just lost both of her arms! How is she fit for a space transfer?”

“Ask that bitch, not me. But, hey, I start seeing a connection.”

Felce crossed her fingers under her chin, stared at the other two occupants in the room.

“So, a huge pseudo-plant monster wakes up in the mall where our friendly Kryzalid went full murder hobo. Meanwhile, Agave and the deputy bitch fight her down in Aralu, getting their asses wiped and returning with a couple arms less. So, with not even half a day of advance warning, who’s sent to that joke of an orbital graveyard? The three idiots that dealt with that monster – us – and the only survivor of the latest Kryzalid operation that isn’t the deputy bitch – Agave. Plus, of course, that monster’s dissected body, neatly packed in a dozen biohazard crates. Ain’t it convenient? Sending all the people who know something is wrong to space, right around the Turn of the Millennium! I smell ministry of suck here. Something’s rotten and it’s not that weird-tasting water.”

Prim nodded, curled around her new hoodie.

“What about Zonta? Doesn’t he know about it too?”

“Lagash take me! If they forced him to tag along, I would have played cricket with his head. No, that creep remains here, courtesy of the iron bitch. So yeah, this ‘witness protection’ excuse is a bunch of BS. They want us out of the picture, so that we don’t yap about the monster during the Turn. Classic smokes and mirror tactics. I bet our rocket will have a mechanical failure on the way up, burning us alive. Then, they’ll play dumb, say it’s an unfortunate incident and spare a minute of silence for us during the Turn. This is the playbook, mark my words.”

Mal fell into an uncomfortable silence. Felce really sounded like one of those conspiracy theorists on the comnet, and acted very much like it. No surprise that her room was full of books and PV recordings about the eighth vault’s mummy, ancient satellites, precursors and a whole lot of newspaper articles about mysterious murders – with red lines drawn between them, no less. Still, her show was far from over, as she let out a powerful groan.

“…or, at least, I thought so – but it’s a bit more complex than that. Atropos really needs specialized personnel to seal a leak on its outer hull: the trip was already scheduled three months ago, and we’re just loaded as extra cargo for free. Even with us on board, the vessel is only half full – we’re basically hitchhiking a ride on it. What plays in our favor is that, if that rocket doesn’t get up there and the breach isn’t fixed, Atropos is done in less than two weeks – which ain’t a good outcome for our dear minister. Having a falling space station crash on your planet right after the big celebration isn’t very election-winning. So, we’re lucky. Even if they want to kill us like that, they can’t. But they can at least silence us long enough, in a place without comnet. It still sucks, but a bit less.”

“Where did you get all of this…?”

Felce grinned at Mal’s question, almost waiting for it like a jaguar ready to pounce on its prey.

“The comnet is vast and infinite. You can find everything, if you know where to look. Or, well, you can simply eavesdrop a bored human engineer on their unplanned night shift. That works too.”

Prim looked at Felce with wide eyes, not sure whether she was able to follow her line of reasoning. So, instead of asking about it, she decided to switch topic and derail the conversation with another question altogether.

“Uhm… could you help me pack my stuff for tomorrow? I want to take the hoodie with me, but I’m having issues making everything fit into my suitcase.”

That prompted both of them to turn towards Prim, with a confused gaze. Mal shrugged. Rhizomes sure were high maintenance. Capable of split a monster in half, but not of simpler tasks like reading simple guidelines. All of them with some sort of hyperfixation too – be it bunnies, conspiracies, model robots, cats or anything in the middle. That was one of the first things he learned in his rhizome 101 class – ‘they’re like hot girls with mild autism, attention disorders, orange and blue morality, and no common sense whatsoever. Oh, yeah, and they are also plants’, as his instructor said. That was a pretty extreme way to put it, but some of it was indeed ringing a bell. Mal had a quick look at the suitcase, trying to ascertain how he could place everything inside that cramped space. Three pairs of sneakers. Four pants. Six t-shirts. Six pairs of socks. Two pajamas (with bunnies). Two sweatshirts. Her new hoodie. A somewhat bulky music player. Riri the plushie. Five novels (about bunnies? The titles didn’t ring a bell). Assorted bracelets. A notebook. Mal sighed. It didn’t take a genius to notice that all of that couldn’t fit inside that sorry excuse of a suitcase she was planning to use.

“Okay, the shoes and the books are taking too much space. They ain’t gonna fit, no matter how hard you pray. I have an extra case in my room that is bigger than yours. Do you want to use it?”

“If that means I can bring everything with me, yes.”

“Good. Then, I’m gonna take it and get back. Just need a minute or two…”

Mal waved his hand, disappeared through the door. The sound of his steps echoed in the corridor, before slowly getting more and more distant. Prim listened to the noises, till they disappeared. She counted up to ten in her mind, then she closed the door, turned to Felce.

“The water I transferred to you via the dead Peacekeeper… how did it taste?”

Felce squinted her eyes, surprised by the sudden question.

“Why are you asking this now?”

“Just answer quickly. It’s… important to me.”

“Well, it was disgusting. Absolutely disgusting. Tainted like that of those damn corpses in the mass grave. I would have thrown up, if I weren’t knocked out cold. Seriously, how can a human have such low quality water in their body?! Why do you care, though?”

Prim focused on her hearing, once again. No steps. Silence outside. He wasn’t back yet. That was the right time. The only time she could talk about it.

“I don’t want tell this to him, not yet, but…”

Inhale. Exhale. Breathe.

“…but Mal…”

Inhale. Exhale. Breathe.

“…I mean, his tears…”

Inhale. Exhale. Breathe.

“…had the same taste too.”