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Lightning - 7 - Vision Thing
🕑 Added 2023-11-20 11:24:26 +0000 UTCYou can tell I sometimes name stories after songs, right? Right? Anyway, here we have Trevor's secret getting out. He's not very good at keeping secrets. Plus, some foreshadowing for what will happen next with him and Fitch.
Also! I have completed "Book 1" of Lightning! I have completed the first draft of my first novel! 23 chapters! Crap. Now I have to edit it and put it together and figure out how to publish it. It's likely there'll be a second book which will continue the big plot stuff, which I will start writing soon. Probably. Hopefully.
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Trevor went to the laboratory the Monday after his private encounter with Fitch, completely on edge. He absolutely, positively knew that the panther was going to do something, or say something, or that everyone else would somehow know what had happened. After all, Petrie’s nighttime trysts with his apparent lover were hardly living up to the concept of a tryst, seeing as everyone knew they were happening.
Instead, everyone was interested in The Energizer. Trevor entered the laboratory to a stunning racket, while the other four stood at the back wall looking out the door into the alleyway. He joined them. The newly installed steam drive was huffing away, sending puffs of white vapor out every time its piston chugged and spun a large, heavy metal wheel. That in turn had a belt connected to another wheel, and was the source of the actual clattering - the entire contraption seemed out of balance.
“No, no, it’s gonna rip itself apart!” Altius hollered, then darted out and pulled a lever. That disconnected some mechanical connection, causing the steam drive to accelerate while the attached equipment spun down. An odd device of spinning metal balls on the steam drive accelerated, and as it spun faster and faster, the balls swung further out until a big whoosh of steam blasted out and the whole thing slowed back down. Another lever pull, and even more steam came out and the contraption slowed down to nothing.
“I told you, don’t run it yet,” Fitch growled, as cross-armed and flat eared as always. “I have to grease the bushings.”
Lane leaned over to both Petrie and Trevor. “What’s a bushing?” He whispered, not close to either’s ear due to height differences.
“How should I know! I’ve never seen one of those alarming machines before,” Petrie sniffed.
“I bet you know all about greasing bushings,” Lane replied, and the joke went literally over the squat dog’s head.
“What’s going on?” Trevor asked.
“Altius wants to run his big baby machine already, and wouldn’t listen to me.” Fitch sighed, and disappeared into his shop. He returned with a wrench and a small paint bucket, then started banging and twisting at various parts that held the various shafts. “If anyone tries to touch one of these levers, I’ll eviscerate them,” he hissed.
The lizard ululated, which seemed to serve the same purpose as whistling. “Alright! Let’s come in here and go over what happens when we fire this up,” he said, and walked back inside.
Not only was there now a steam drive out back; the space around the energizer was full of small objects hanging from strings that had dropped from the ceiling. The energizer itself consisted of a large tower made of wood that housed a metal sphere on top. The wood structure was open, and showed an enormous black belt inside. Metal prongs touched the bottom and seemed to lead down below, and when Trevor went to look up inside, he saw other metal prongs at the top which had a piece connecting them to the top sphere.
“A refresher course for our newest recruit,” Altius began. “This device collects natural electric charge. Movement of certain materials against each other results in the charge… occurring, and thus the large elsap belt an’ those two rollers. The metal prongs at the bottom, they take away charge from that part of the belt; the ones up there at the top inside that ball collect it after it’s been generated. Then it is transferred to that big metal dome. A high-energy charge will leak off of anythin’ pointy, hence those prongs inside, an’ hence the dome bein’ a dome. Eventually, there is so much charge that it leaks off anyway.”
“Now, of course, we wanna know how much charge there is an’ if it’s leakin’. All those little things up there, those are connite fragments. An’ when the charge builds up enough, they will start glowin’. We also have this wand-” He then hefted a very large metal pole with a connite powder tube at the end, and a thick piece of braided metal cable that ran down and out the end, attached to a metal pole driven into a hole in the floor of the warehouse. “Which you can use to discharge at any time, for experiments, and also including when you shut it all down.”
While Altius spoke, Fitch continued working on all of the bushings, opening them, slathering grease inside, and wrenching them back closed. Grease oozed out, which seemed to make him happy, as his tail lashed around whenever he saw it.
“Now to drive that belt we used’t have this big ol’ crank wheel an’ gear mechanism. Like a ship’s rudder wheel. That had two problems, one bein’ no one wants to crank it for an hour-”
“Definitely not,” Lane cut in.
“An’ it also sometimes transferred charge back to people.” When he said this, Trevor put his ears back and winced. Altius continued. “Now with this steam drive, we don’t have to worry ‘bout that. If any charge gets back to that thing outside, well, it’s got metal rods driven’ down into the back cement. Remember, the earth is always uncharged. Charge will always run to th’earth. And finally, we got this lever here. This moves th’prongs close to an’ away from the belt, so we can vary the chargin’ without startin’ an stoppin’ everything. This other lever we rigged up will disconnect th’rotation from inside here so no one’s gotta run around out back.” He demonstrated two large wooden levers, one attached to some sort of sprocket mechanism, and the other attached to wood that ran inside the machine.
“Alright, now you can try running that firehearted piece of junk,” Fitch said, and wiped his greasy gloves on his apron. He also stared at Trevor while doing it. The maned wolf caught the look, and pretended to look elsewhere.
“Fitch, you go out back there an’ start it turnin’ slow when I give a yell,” Altius said. “You all, get on some of that elsap gear.” The lizard waved his hands towards a collection of shiny, black gear.
Everyone donned the big, squeaky overboots, aprons, and long gloves. Trevor looked down at his hands. I wonder if Fitch plays around with these. He immediately sprang an erection, which he tried to hide by leaning against a railing and crossing his legs beneath his apron. The bulky material bunched up in several places and hid him well enough.
“Alright now if this thing is runnin’ do not anyone go upstairs. I don’t care if Petrie, you got some math insights or what. An’ if you see any of those connite chunks glowin’ up there, do not go up there even if it is off. Get this wand out an’ prod around until it quits glowin’. Now what we’re gonna do is get this all wound up an’ show off a little. Test it out. Trevor, just so you know, you are gonna see some really big scratch-bolts.”
Trevor tucked his tail. “No problem.”
Altius pushed the drive lever into place, and then pulled on the energizer lever. Nothing happened right away. “Go for it, Fitch!”
The steam drive’s idle hissing stopped, and then slowly began to intermittently chuff and hiss. The collection of belts and pulleys began to rotate, so did the drive sprocket, and so did the belt. The machine made a grinding sound, and the entire operation was far quieter than just the outside parts had been before Fitch had worked on it. “That sounds better,” the cat yelled.
“Indeed it does!”
Trevor looked around the inside of the warehouse, which looked surprisingly dim for midday in late summer. All of the window blinds had been drawn closed.
“How long does it take?” Trevor turned to Lane.
The sphinx cat pointed upwards. Some of the connite fragments had started to glow pink, the ones closest to the sphere. Trevor closed his eyes; the sphere was a roiling mass of incoherent bright blue charge, while dimmer strands of it moved away from the sphere. There was enough charge that he could see the entire device as if it were illuminated in strong blue light.
“About that long.”
“Now, let’s see what we can get,” Altius said, and hefted the large discharge wand which had a connite tube at the end. It was as long as several broom handles and looked heavy enough that he grunted and waved it around slowly. As he moved it towards the sphere very slowly, the connite tube began to glow dim pink, then hotter pink, then bright enough that the light scattered off of things. Trevor closed his eyes; he could see a stream of blue charge moving from the sphere to the tip of the tube; it looked similar to the way smoke would rise up from a candle, thick at the base and then stretched into a drop.
Altius moved the prong a little closer, and now a loud hissing and sizzling noise could be heard, and there was visible blue discharge.
“There it is, that’s looking pretty hot,” Lane said.
“Now, I’m gonna put on a sphere for that prong, an’ then swing it in quickly.” He set the wand down angled against one of the warehouse support footings, then climbed up a small ladder and screwed on a much smaller metal bowl device to the end. “Get ready, cover your ear holes if you want.” Altius got the wand aloft again, and swung it within about five feet of the sphere. There was an abrupt crack and a vicious blue-white bolt cracked between the sphere and the wand, while the connite tube flashed pink hot enough it hurt to look at.
Trevor almost jumped out of his fur, and the startle made his ears grow cold. He looked towards the door to the alleyway; Fitch was standing well outside, and looked completely nonplussed by the entire situation. Trevor kept an eye on him; Fitch usually looked sour, though this was a look of pure concern and discomfort.
“Now, let’s test this drive disconnection setup,” Altius said, and set the wand back in its resting place.
Trevor happened to close his eyes, and looked towards the energizer. The entire device was glowing with some amount of charge, the top metal dome bristling with it, bright enough that it felt like he was staring at flare. The mechanical parts from the belt drive through the drive coupler were also glowing fiercely blue, which they hadn’t been doing before. His stomach rose into his throat. That really doesn’t look right. He opened his eyes; Altius was walking over to the drive lever. He closed them again; the blue was even brighter, and was starting to bristle off of the equipment. No no no no no-
“Hey, hey don’t do that!” Trevor shouted. Altius stopped and turned; everyone else present looked at the maned wolf.
“Well why not, I’m gonna turn off the drive rotation. That’s what this thing’s for.”
Oh shit he doesn’t have fur, he can’t feel it prickling or whatever! “No you really can’t, it’s, it’s charged up, you’ll discharge it!”
Altius put his blackened hands on his hips. “What on earth are you goin’ on about?”
“Yeah, that’s not how it works, all the charge collects up into the top dome, and then that wand and its metal cable, and the metal parts inside the bottom ground that out when you move that big lever,” Lane said, and pointed.
Trevor closed his eyes again. Despite what Lane and Altius had said, blue charge appeared to be leaking into the drive equipment. Maybe. He swore it was going the wrong direction, from the outside in and not down from the machine, however he didn’t have much time to consider. “I don’t care what you think, if you do that you’re gonna get zapped by it!”
“Trevor, I do not understand where you’re gettin’ this idea from.”
Trevor, now in a panic, grabbed the wand from where it was leaning. He nearly dropped it, and then nearly fell over - it had to weigh fifty pounds. He hurried over and jabbed it towards the spinning sprocket mechanism. There was a swift sizzle and then a loud crack as a bolt jumped several feet from the metal sprocket to the electrode. Everyone present jumped back.
“What in the pits of fire!” Altius hollered.
Trevor jabbed the thing forward, producing another bolt, then another, and then just let it bang the sprocket. The connite tube glowed hot pink, and slowly decreased.
“Fitch! Shut that thing down! Stop it! Full stop! No more rotation!” Altius yelled at the top of his lungs.
Fitch pulled a lever outside and the drive disconnected, and then another lever pull and the machine ran down.
Altius rushed up and grabbed the discharge wand, and prodded it around the energizer. It crackled and sparked a few times, and the connite tube flashed and glowed for almost a minute before it seemed like all of the charge was gone. Then, he rushed up to Trevor. “Just what’s gotten into you!”
Trevor blinked. “What do you mean? I, I mean, it was, you could have been uh, the thing that discharged it! You saw how far away the wand was, you’d be way closer to pull that lever!”
“I mean, what made you make a fuss about that? Nothing seemed to be going wrong!”
“Yeah, that’s kind of strange,” Lane said. “How’d you know that was going to happen?” Petrie, on the other hand, hung back, worriedly looking between the three.
Trevor swallowed, and had nothing to swallow. His mouth had gone dry. “I, I n-need to tell you all something and you won’t believe me.”
“Are you messing with us? Are you a plant? I wouldn’t put it past the chantry-”
“Plant? I’m a maned wolf.”
“A plant! A spy!”
Trevor cocked his head. “No, what are you talking about? I can see it.”
“See what?” Altius looked confused.
Now they were all staring at him again, including Fitch, who had stepped back inside to witness the commotion.
“I can see the charges.”
“Well of course you can, they glow when they’re high enough energy. You can see that kinda purple haze when it’s real dark. It ain’t much, and that’s what those connite bits are for.” Altius pointed up.
“I don’t mean like that, I mean I can see them. I could see it when you were working with that battery thing upstairs the other day. I can see them all over the place. Just oving around generates a little bit of them. If I close my eyes, I can’t see anything else, but I can see the… I can see the charges. On everything. All the time.” As Trevor spoke, the looks on everyone’s faces turned from curiosity to incredulity.
“That’s just preposterous,” Altius huffed.
Trevor now felt hot instead of cold and panicked. “I don’t care what you call it, that doesn’t stop it from happening. That’s why I was so interested in all that stuff you were doing at our town fair. I was upset at the naffy jerks who were picking on me and my sister and when I closed my eyes to try and calm down, I could see all of this blue stuff all over the place with your equipment, streaming off of her fur, everything.” Everyone continued staring. “That’s why I keep standing around with my eyes closed. I’m… I’m watching it. It seems useful, I mean, you’re trying to study electrical charges, I might as well look at them. The battery was the really interesting thing. Even when it was just sitting there, I could see the charge moving around in the liquid in the jars. I think maybe it was leaking into itself, and that’s why it kept stopping even when you weren’t using it.” More staring. “And I did it just now and saw the charge building up there where it shouldn’t!”
No one seemed to want to say anything for several long moments. Trevor felt as if he should shrivel up and pass away.
“Ahh, maybe,” Petrie said, and everyone turned to him. “It is his bad eye.”
“Well!” Altius said. “If you claim to be able to see all this charge, then we will jus’ have to do an experiment.”
“Don’t use that big thing,” Fitch said. “You’ll have to go through me to turn it back on.”
—
Altius, Lane, and Petrie were not nearly as terrified or alarmed or praying to gods as Trevor thought they would be. Instead, they were consumed with the task of experimenting.The experiment had two parts:
First, Trevor had to sit in a room at one end of the warehouse, where he couldn’t hear anything going on at the other end.
Second, Altius and Lane would set up the battery again, except they would hide it from view and have three sets of prongs sticking out. Only one set would actually be connected to the acid jars. Trevor would have to connect the prongs with a connite tube, and he would need to do it correctly the first time, proving that he could see the low-level electrical charge in order to know which prong to use.
The first part of the experiment had a problem: Trevor had to spend over an hour being isolated, which was in Fitch’s workshop, with Fitch in it. “Do you know why I put those four door locks on my door?” The cat asked, without warning, interrupting what he was working on by turning and staring at Trevor.
“I’m not sure. There are expensive things in here that you don’t want stolen if someone breaks into the lab?” Good guess; many of the people who aren’t actively moving things around as part of commerce outside, look very suspect.
“I don’t want those naffy fucks bothering me.”
Trevor tucked his tail, even though he was already sitting in a chair. “Oh.”
“To punish me for being secretive, they put you in here with me.” He started approaching Trevor. “You, a stinking, filthy dog.” He stepped up until the table got in the way, and he rested against it in such a way that his bulge sat atop the very edge.
Trevor put his ears down, as they grew extremely hot. He went to hunch forward and put his hands down between his legs, over the insulating apron he still wore.
“Put your hands up on the table,” Fitch growled.
Trevor whined and put them where directed.
“I bet you wish you were wearing the same gloves I made you wear Saturday night,” Fitch said, while merely standing there. He spoke harshly, though much lower than before. “Or do you wish you were wearing the ones I’m making for you. You’ll get those on Saturday.”
“That’s… that’s awfully short.”
“Don’t question me,” the panther growled. He then looked towards the door, even though there had been no noise. “Are you off in the head?” Trevor cocked his head in response. “What happened out there. Are you fucking with them, or are you crazy?”
Trevor frowned, and not one of sexual embarrassment. “I’m not either one of those things. I wish I could go look at all that stuff with the, uh, energizer. I think I know what happened. Or rather, I think two things happened at the same time. I think there was some inappropriate… path, for the charge to go. And I also think all those pulleys were basically doing the same thing as the machine itself, and charging up the… the thing that you disconnect with the lever.”
“That would be a ‘dog-tooth drive coupler’. Why do you think that?”
Trevor cocked his head again. “Well, the energizer is just a big pulley and belt thing, right? If that can somehow build up a charge-”
“It is, according to Altius, taking lots of small charges and collecting them in the big spherical dome,” Fitch corrected.
“Okay, those drive pulleys could do the same thing.”
“I like the idea that you are using your brain. However, you’re forgetting one thing: you said a bunch of crazy stuff about seeing the charges.”
Trevor swallowed. “It’s not crazy. I mean, maybe it seems crazy, maybe the gods are crazy, I don’t know. I can, though! I know… put on your elsap gloves and rub one of them on your fur, and don’t do the other one, and then ask me which one it is. It’s like that experiment they’re setting up, except uhh… it only takes ten seconds.”
Fitch grabbed the gloves and pulled them on, over the gloves he was already wearing, right in front of Trevor’s face. He splayed his fingers and fisted them up several times.
Trevor turned away and stared at the wall. “Okay, go.” He could hear the rustling of fur on elsap. “Okay, I’m turning around.”
He did so and Fitch was holding both hands out in front of him. Trevor closed his eyes; one of them, and all of Fitch, had the faint glow that most people and many things did. The other hand was much brighter, and even had a few tiny prickles coming off of it, like a thistle. “It’s that one.”
Fitch went from frowning to lifting his eyebrows. “What-”
“Also, you rubbed the back of your head, and part of your left ear.”
“You better be glad I don’t believe in all that chantry stuff, or I’d burn you at the stake.”
Someone knocked at the door, and Fitch answered it the same way he always did, by opening the view slat and hissing at them. “You know,” Lane said from the other side, “You don’t have to do that, you know it’s us coming to get Trevor.”
“I don’t care,” the panther said, shut the slat, unlocked the door. “Go show them what you just showed me, I guess,” he shrugged.
—
In the upstairs lab, the experimental device was set up very well. It was completely hidden under a table, and they didn’t let Trevor get close to it. Like most of the time, Fitch came along and stood as far away from everything as possible while still being able to stare accusingly at everyone involved.
“If I fail this test, what happens?” Trevor asked.
“It isn’t that kind of test,” Lane said. “It’s an experiment.”
“But if I fail it, I’m lying.”
Lane, Altius, and Petrie once again exchanged ‘the looks’. “My dear boy,” Altius said, “I did have a fear that you were odd, and I see that I was correct.”
Trevor closed his eyes, looked at the device, and opened them again. “Anyway, it’s that one,” he said, and pointed to the third of one side of the prongs. “And I’m not pointing at the other side because the charge doesn’t uh, it comes from one side of the… cells? One uh, what do you call it, anyway?”
“Plate,” Lane said.
“However… well, give me that,” he said, and picked up the connite tube, then touched one prong to the aforementioned side. “Hmm. I guess it’s this one,” and he touched the other prong to the matching one of the other side. The tube immediately lit up pink. “Oh good! If you’d mixed up the uncharged side, that would be hard. Also, the conductors glow kind of orange, but only when there’s a circuit. I think that might have something to do with the magnetism thing you noticed last week. We never had a lot of magnets back home.”
Everyone was staring at Trevor again. Finally, Altius spoke. “Do you realize, boy, that this is unprecedented?”
Trevor shrugged. “So was getting hit in the head by a lightning bolt and not dying.” Actually I wonder how often that happens.
“Are you sure it was the lightning bolt?”
He nodded. “I never noticed anything weird until then. It took about half a year afterwards. I mean I had to recover a bunch, I felt off and sick for a while. I’d stand up and get dizzy and my heart would pound and I’d have to lie down or I’d fall. I’d start to get really hot like I had a fever, or cold, without warning. Once that went away, I just… started seeing this kind of haze with my eyes closed. After a while, I realized I was seeing people. I’m not sure why I see people. Maybe moving around causes charges to form? Maybe people have electric charges inside from some natural force? If it’s winter time, I can see their footprints on rugs. I never really knew what I was seeing until your demonstration. I just thought I was dull and naffy from brain damage or something.”
Altius stepped up and grabbed him by both arms. “Trevor, you are the person to come work with us on this.”
—
Trevor was dumbfounded. Past the initial confusion, Altius’ ragtag research group was completely tickled by Trevor’s ability, so much so that they left work early to celebrate. Instead of heading towards Sharyn’s scrappy barroom, they headed deeper into the city on Petrie’s suggestion.
As they walked, a pleasant commotion grew louder and louder. Altius inquired. “Where exactly are we going, my fine little dog?”
“I will pretend you did not say that!” Petrie said, tail waggling nonetheless, as he addressed Altius. “I am very aware of what is going on around this city. Despite libraries being so quiet, whenever I go to Hopsmoth, I end up finding all manner of things out. The librarians talk amongst themselves and of course there are the newspapers and notice boards. And today is the end of summer festival in Blythe Square.”
“Ahh! That explains all that ruckus we seem to be gettin’ near to,” Altius said. Lane walked along with them, quiet and yet not pensive, possibly owing to the cigarette he had been smoking. It was neither dullweed nor clove, by the smell of it. Fitch walked behind them, more as if he was going in the same direction and had to begrudgingly follow such a motley group.
This is where I napped in the park the other day, Trevor thought, as he recognized the signage. Instead of the large open landscaped spaces and several ponds, the square was packed with people. One corner of it had been set up as a market; another corner for food and drink; the performance pavilion currently featured a folk band playing rousing dancing music; and it looked as busy as Trevor remembered seasonal fairs back home. There were even displays set up, though they were only generally from Hopsmoth University and the Castleton civil government.
“Now I only ask one thing of you all; please do not go around talkin’ about why we’re here. That being said, I’m sure to wander off to try an’ garner some attention to our research needs - specifically our need for charity to continue said research - with the important, expensive, and well-connected crowds. I gave you all some coin an’ you don’t have to earn it back right now. Go eat somethin’ other than mousey goat-cheese an’ beer! Not to discredit Sharyn, of course.” Altius was expansive in his gesture, and then gave everyone a shoulder smack before turning to mesh into the crowd.
Trevor was not particularly fond of crowds, though not particularly resistant to them when not trying to corral his young cousin. The entire ruckus was at least different; people had turned out in colorful and fancy attire, children were hooting and hollering along with their parents, and there were even a fair contingent of Caroyans who - though banded together - did not seem to draw negative attention. The civil booths were the source of lots of the banners that read, “Prosperity | Progression | Respect”, which had to be some naffy and poorly-worded governmental slogan.
Lane seemed unusually quiet as they headed over towards the food and drink. Trevor leaned over. “Are you alright?”
“I am absolutely alright,” the cat responded, and looked at him. What had at first been a peculiarly calm face now looked sweaty and wide-eyed, and Lane smiled almost the way Fitch did.
Trevor recoiled slightly. “You seem off. I’m not that scary, am I?”
“You are very tall, however, you are not the slightest bit scary. Even when you take that thing off your eye.” Lane reached up and pointed. “Why can’t our neighborhood be this colorful? I would never leave the block.” He then swirled his head around at the festive decorations, glowing more fiercely in the golden sun. Lane’s voice was slower, though not in the dullweed way. He seemed profusely distracted. Trevor moved to keep going, and Lane grasped him by the waist of his pants. “Let me ask you something, Trevor,” he said. The remainder of the group kept going forward; Petrie and Fitch were having some sort of animated conversation and hadn’t noticed.
“Uhh, yes?”
“I would like your opinion. Would you like to try something new? New as in, not to you, new to me, new to everyone, new to existence.” He then held up the cigarette that he had been smoking extremely slowly, and which didn’t seem to smolder when not being lit with an alcohol lighter.
“Is that like the clove cigarette I had the other day? That was odd.” Trevor felt buoyed enough by the positive reaction to his nascent ability that he shrugged and took the smoke.
“Just, one, inhale, I think,” Lane said, and handed over his lighter, by pushing it into Trevor’s hand.
Trevor lit the cigarette and took one small drag from it. He immediately coughed, as it had a noxious smell, like breathing in tar fumes. “Uch, well, it’s disgusting,” he said, and handed the cigarette back. Wait a minute. “Is this something you’ve concocted again?” You should have asked that first, you dullhead!
“Mmm,” Lane said, regarded the cigarette, looked as if he was going to smoke it again and then also reconsidered. He dropped it and squashed it under his boot toe. He then turned to Trevor and grasped him by his shirt, in the way a drunk might, though not while wobbling about like one. “Dullweed is so… it smells so much. I thought, what if I make something like dullweed. Despite what you think when you use it, it doesn’t smell so much, hmm? You didn’t even notice it, nor did Fitch, and both of you are always sniffing about.”
I’m always sniffing about? Trevor sniffed about as he worried at the words. “We should eat.” His throat tickled slightly, and then so did his fur.
“Yes we should,” Lane nodded, and they continued on to meet up with the others. The food stalls all had signs from local businesses, and some were cooking food on the spot; the smoke made for a mouth-watering (and eye-watering) miasma. The prices were astonishingly reasonable, and the vendors seemed willing to provide small samples. One of them, a Galean wolf - identified by his outrageous collection of jewelry and layered headband - stuck a sword out over the crowd with slices of meat on it. He hooted something unintelligible and wiggled it towards people. Those nearby, who wore various degrees of Galean attire, leaned in and bit them off.
Lane’s eyes went huge and he jostled Trevor. “Get… do the… that one! The end! The tip! You’re taller than everybody!”
Several people in the impromptu crowd lifted onto their toes at the same time as Trevor merely leaned his muzzle up and snagged the end piece, to more enthusiastic Galean barking from the wolf; he also swiped the one below it with his fingers for Lane. The cat took it, eyes wide, and nibbled at the juicy, charred flesh.
Trevor munched, while worryingly, everyone present - including those who got the other cuts - clapped. “Mmmh, wow, what is this, this is so good, I’ve never had meat this good, how can I have more meat this good?” He looked down at Lane, who looked overjoyed as well. “This is meat for rich people.” He looked around; everyone looked so fun. The banners were explosive bits of color in the generally drab city architecture - Castleton’s building materials of wood and stone and cement were necessarily earthy. The music from the other end of the large park floated through the air, weaving in and out around the banners-
“Lane, what’s happening?”
“That is,” The cat began, licking his chops and talking with his mouth full, then mistakenly dropping some meat out and catching it with his hand. He let out a feral mewl and swallowed it. “Ahh, that is a… Galean custom, I think, some sort of offering to the people? As for the meat, that is Benyk which is, I think, a type of un-horned bovine fed wine and caressed while growing.”
“Did you say caressed?” Trevor said, and immediately thought of Fitch holding him from behind on his lap. Not only was it profoundly sexual, he actually thought he was being touched and looked around for a moment. No one was there; the vendor was repeating the action to another small crowd of people several feet away. Fitch was nowhere to be seen at first. He was far ahead, grumpily getting a drink with Altius. Trevor grabbed Lane this time. “Lane, what is happening.”
“Do you think everything is… more?” Lane’s eyes were big, black pools, as if he were about to pounce. “Your eyes, you look like a kitten chasing a string!”
The sensation was not unpleasant, though it bordered on overwhelming. After initially welling up, it didn’t seem to strengthen much. “I don’t think this is quite like dullweed. Dullweed makes me feel cotton-headed and worried in a good way and-”
“Horny?”
“Yes, that, but not this. This makes my fur feel strange, and everything is so colorful and…” Trevor wandered over to a landscape tree and stared at the leaves as they rustled in the breeze. Patterns swirled through the rustling; it was breathtaking. Even as it was fascinating, the sensation left him unsettled enough that he wasn’t sure he would repeat it.
“Food,” Lane said, and grabbed him around the lower back.
They turned back to the fair and wandered about. For actual meals, plates and glassware would be too expensive, and instead they were given steam-hammered wood shakes that could then be burned later. There was a placard explaining it; Trevor stared at the coruscating colors of the painted letters. They eventually got some food that looked like late harvest vegetables with spiced and stuffed hen’s breast. Lane spotted Altius and Fitch, who had secured a wooden table. Altius had a shake with a wide variety of food on it and none of it was recognizable even as food to Trevor; Fitch had a fried hand-cake with a piece of steak stuffed crudely into it, which he was eating like a pastry.
Trevor stared at Altius’ food. “What is that. What is that?” Some of it looked like various worms; some of it looked like it was trying to look like various worms; none of it was colored anywhere close to appetizing.
Lane made a completely screwed up face. “Ahhh, he’s eating Caroyan food in front of us again,” he groaned, and put his face down into his arms.
“You are very dramatic all of a sudden, Mister Burroughs!” Altius said this with a grin, and picked up something worm-like between his talons and slurped it up. It crunched wetly. “Have you been drinking?”
“No, we have not been drinking, we have been experimenting. Tall guy, Trevor, do that thing. See what it looks like.”
“Do what thing?” Do you call me tall guy in your head? Does everyone do that? Am I really that tall? He looked down at the ground, which did seem far away, even though he was seated. He closed his eyes. The familiar blue haze of - energy? - looked similar to the paint on the sign, scintillating and coruscating and using similar big words to describe big, bombastic, floral and feral movements-
He opened his eyes again. “It just looks more… more.”
“Lane, are you testing things on our newest recruit?” Altius made an exaggerated cross look.
“Smelled bad, not as bad as dullweed, makes everything pretty, Trevor says it makes his fur feel weird.” Lane nodded, and ate his food.
Trevor continued to look at Altius’ food. Despite his intellectual disgust at it, something looked profoundly tasty about the reticulated worm segments. “Uhm. Can I try that?” Despite having just asked, he didn’t wait for Altius to allow him and just reached to pinch one of them in his clawnails. He then ate it. Despite the idea of eating a worm, it burst with savory and slightly tangy flavor in his mouth, and crunched delightfully. “That’s good. Why are you so put off?” He looked at Lane, who was flopped in sweat and making a rude face with his arms crossed. Fitch, on the other hand, grinned.
“Only some humanids can handle the taste, I hear,” Altius said, and turned partly away from Lane as he continued eating. “Not by region, either. Perhaps like how only some people stink up a latrine trough after eating asparagus.”
“I’ve eaten those worm things, they taste like bitter retch,” Lane groaned, and reached for a drink that wasn’t there. “Maybe I should get beers. Yes. I’ll do that. Where is the beer. Perhaps I could swim in beer…” Instead of getting up, he just looked around, mesmerized by the sights and sounds.
“I liked it,” Trevor whined. “That’s odd.” Trevor realized he was sat across from everyone, and they all looked up with an effervescent enthused look. At first, he thought they were looking at him; then he swung around.
“Never fear; beer is here!” Petrie called out, and lofted two wooden barrel mugs as far above his head as he could, which would have allowed an average standing person to still lick the foam off the top. Next to him and towering over him as much as anyone else did, was a gaily dressed cow with a profound bosom and hip, a colorful yellow and red summer dress, long half-gloves, and tan deerskin boots. She had one beer in each hand, and a third squeezed between the other two and her cleavage.
“Goodness, none of you were joking!” Altius said, and then looked startled that he’d said it. “My apologies, Petrie, your proclivities precede your person around the laboratory.”
The cow merely laughed. “Well look at this bunch! Now I don’t know if you deserve all this limited-run ale.” She clutched it tighter to her chest, which made her chest bulge further up from her corset.
“No, no, please, beer,” Lane gasped and actually stood up at the table to reach forward. “I need to wet my throat after watching my boss and the new guy eat worms.”
“Gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to Sandy Whitlas.” Petrie set his two beers up on the table and made an introduction bow. Sandy did the same thing and curtsied, and her breasts languidly did the same.
“Ahh, Whitlas, that is so familiar,” Altius said, and rose to shake her hand with both of his.
Sandy took one of her beers back for herself; Trevor and Fitch took the other two. “My father is Samuel Whitlas, the brewer. Hence a free round of otherwise limited-edition festival beer.” She bobbed her wood-slat mug and slurped uncouthly. Everyone else did the same. “And obviously, my reputation proceeds… precedes me.” She smiled and whipped her tail back and forth behind her dress. “I don’t mind. I’m not a complicated lady.”
“How exactly is a smiling buxom cow hooked up with Petrie,” Fitch said, and it wasn’t clear from his voice whether he was asking a question or making a disgruntled statement.
“Fitch, they’re both right there,” Lane smacked him on the arm, then continued staring wide-eyed. “Oh, and I mean Sandy and Petrie, too.”
“Forgive my associates, Lane and Fitch, they are having a very good time here at this festival,” Altius said, and then gave the two cats nasty looks. “This fine, tall young man here is Trevor, our newest at the laboratory, and our reason for coming out here. He has completed his first week here and survived without the slightest scratch!” Altius presented Trevor, who nodded with his ears back. “Don’t tell them about the scratch, boy,” he stage-whispered.
“I didn’t…” Trevor started, and despite being dubiously intoxicated, had enough mental energy to say, “What scratch? I certainly didn’t get injured on the job,” with as much patronizing lilt as he could manage in his current state. He felt like his lips were going to twist up into such a grin that it would peel up off of his face and float away.
They all lifted mugs for a toast. “I apologize for running off, but I simply had to bring Sandy over so you could meet her.”
“Don’t be silly, Petrie, we aren’t your parents,” Altius laughed.
Trevor looked around the group. Lane had seemingly recovered from his shock at Trevor and Altius’ choice of food; Fitch was eating his odd concoction with as much curt aplomb as he approached the rest of his life; and Altius was carefully eating his out of sight of the other two. Petrie and Sandy didn’t seem to mind. Trevor himself didn’t feel hungry - his earlier compulsion to eat was more based on the idea of eating more than need, and so he picked at his food.
Petrie and his girlfriend seemed anxious to wander about the festival and headed off. Once they were finished eating, the group broke apart as well. Lane and Trevor wandered around and discovered that Altius was indeed trying to talk up various people who looked expensive and or important; and they spent until darkness listening to the several different musical acts that took up the stage. Folk; string chamber orchestra; a vocal quintet. Trevor had not thought of himself as much for listening to performances of any kind, though whatever Lane had given him left him completely enraptured by anything that happened.
As the festival began to die out, so did the more sensation, both in himself and Lane. “Oh, where did Fitch get off to?” Trevor suddenly realized the panther hadn’t come along with them.
“He probably got bored and went home. He’s probably working on something. He can be very single-minded.” Lane shrugged. “That isn’t a bad idea. I feel like I’m a sailboat in a calm sea all of a sudden. We should head back together. Altius I suppose will be fine; he will surely get ridden around in some pearl-studded carriage. If nothing else, that damn accent he has always charms people. I would not trust myself alone, especially not in this odd come-down state.”
They set off back to the industrial quarter, and soon the din of the winding-down festival was replaced by the background noise - and smell - of the city. Lane alternated between having nothing at all to say, and abruptly musing on things. “I feel a little bit left out some times. Altius can get connected with aristocrats for some unexplainable reason, even though he’s Caroyan. Petrie is… look, he is not posh in the slightest. He pretends to be posh. He isn’t from a poor family, it’s just a very calculated thing. He wants to look posh. He isn’t really, and I bet that’s what that cow likes. He can put on a fancy getup and go to an expensive show and sit there and stick his hand right up in her under her dress and she’ll love it.”
Trevor recoiled slightly. “I’m not… involved in anything.”
“You just got here. You don’t know what you want, I bet. You’re just unusual and you can see-” Lane then clapped his hand over his own mouth and visibly bit his own finger. “No offense. Then there’s Fitch, and I don’t think I want to hang out with him for extended periods, and I don’t think he wants to hang out with us for extended periods, and we’re all mutually fine with that. And then there’s me. What do I do? I wander around the city gawking at butterflies and rolling pebbles while off my mind on some stupid experiment I’m going to sell to high-and-holy officers who want to let their tails wag out on the weekend.”
Trevor tried to picture what Lane was describing, and struggled with it. It was the first indication of who his ‘customers’ might be. “You can’t force it.”
“I sure can go to the night district and put down for whomever I want and have whatever I want out of them, which only gets you so far after you do it enough.” Lane kicked at a small rock, and then shut up for the remaining couple of blocks back. When they reached the townhouses, there was a carriage in front of them, with a particularly uncouth-looking red fox driver. “Right, well, I ought to sleep this off. I suppose we can compare notes in the morning, if Altius doesn’t just get us working at something right away.” Lane gave him the friend-smack, and went into his own apartment.
That left Trevor standing outside his own door. He eyed the waiting carriage, then keyed in and opened his door. He was just stepping inside when someone left Fitch’s apartment door. They were dressed in rough boots and a laced-neck shirt, a wolf with a double-notch taken out of his left ear. He carried something that looked an awful lot like a large garment sack. Fitch stepped out, at least enough that his muzzle was visible.
“If you have any problems, just come right back. I can take it in. I can’t take it out.”
“Ye’r somethin’ else, Mister Pearson.”
“Call me that again and I’ll notch your whole ear off your head. It’s Fitch.”
The wolf walked over to the carriage and hopped in over the back, despite having just one more step to the side door. He smacked the driver’s back and the rangey fox whipped the horses, jolting them enough that the garment bag slapped down into the seat next to him and the wolf nearly lost it out the back.
Fitch was about to pull the door closed when he caught Trevor staring. “You. Come over here.”
Trevor tucked his tail, looked up and down the gaslit, empty street, and then walked over. “Where did you go? We were wondering.”
“I got food, I got free beer, I got to see the cow’s udder that Petrie keeps milking late at night. And as you just saw, I got to finish a sale. Don’t move,” the panther said, then stepped back inside. He came back with a bundle wrapped in brown paper. “A present. It’s not the thing I’m making. That’s next Saturday. I don’t work that fast.”
Trevor took the package, which was oblong and not as big as the one the suspect wolf had left with. “I don’t, you don’t have to get me presents.”
“It’s just something, I guess, for you having been here a week and not ending up like the guy who had that apartment before you. You’ll recognize it. You’ll appreciate it.” Fitch then closed the door and locked each of the locks in quick succession. His tone of voice was as much a command as it was a guess at Trevor’s reaction.
Wait, the guy who had the apartment before me? He sniffed at the package. It smelled like leather; though so did the entirety of Fitch’s apartment, and Fitch himself, so perhaps it had rubbed off. This is a bit familiar.
He entered his own apartment and made judicious use of the interior toilet, then opened the package. It was the long, red leather gloves and tall boots from when Fitch ‘took his measurements’, along with the harness and codpiece. There was also a note. “Practice wearing this for next time, slave dog.” It was signed, “Captain Pearson”.
Trevor swelled with horrified embarrassment, which quickly turned to a giddy sensation that made him set the items down on his front table and pace about the floor. Maybe he isn’t bad? Maybe he’s just strange? Maybe he’s a little off? I’m a little off. He scooped them up and took them upstairs, abruptly afraid that someone would look into his windows - where the curtains were tightly shut - and see that he had something filthy to wear.
The effects of the smoked substance had mostly worn off, and Trevor felt none of the ennui that Lane had exhibited. He’s an interesting cat. He was so uninterested when I met him at the Potterston Fair, and so engaged here, and such troubles in his past when he gets drunk enough. He felt antsy, enough so that he had a puff of dullweed, and then proceeded to nearly hack up a lung. Gods, no wonder he’s trying to make something better. I’ll take that tar-smelling stuff over this manure bonfire. None of the visual extravagance persisted, though he did feel a twinge around his fur. Definitely a twinge around the fur. I should take off my clothes. Maybe then I’ll feel better. He stripped out of his field boots, not even finishing to unlace them, and rolled his pants off to get out of them faster. Thanks to his slender build, he could slide out of his shirt without undoing it all of the way. Ungh. Now I feel naked. Trevor, stop playing make-believe with yourself. You want to put it on.
He stepped into the boots, pulled on the harness - it had only a couple buckles undone from the other night - and tucked into the codpiece before he was too stiff to do it. He pulled the gloves on, and felt an enormous thrill. The room had a dressing mirror that technically reflected whomever stood in front of it, though not in a very uniform manner. He stood in front of it. If I didn’t have this eye patch, I’d look like a… harem boy? He thought about what Fitch had called him the other night, while playing at whatever privateer fantasies excited him. A slave-dog. Captured from the exotic lands of… Gale is in the western continent, isn’t it? That’s across the short sea. It was probably exotic at one time.
Trevor turned away from the mirror, paced down to the window, then back to the mirror. He squinted into the reflection, then grasped his cloak from where he’d left it hanging across the back of the sitting chair. He slung it on, and suddenly the whorish look had a wholly different angle. I need a sword. If I had a sword! He pretended to flourish, then hurried to the curtains and took the pulling hook in hand to wave and thrust. Of course I’ll practice wearing it for you, Captain Pearson. I’d like to see who it was who asked you to make these boots and gloves.
Comments
Marcwolf
At last his secret is out. No the progress can really begin.
