"They're only kids, Jake," Lynette had said when she ran out of legitimate excuses for them.
They were of a different society than I was. I understand now what Lynette meant. I even agree. It wasn't their fault that to me, their long talks about hair and nails and jewelry and transports and who-said-what-about-who seemed shallow. In fact, I think I was really the one with the problem. They were a product of their culture. They could be shallow while young...Lynette was right. They were only kids! They had eighty years or better still ahead of them. They had the luxury of a long life in a safe environment. They had the time to worry about silly little things before they put it aside and had a long life of work and family and bills and all the pressures and responsibilities of being an adult. I had the problem, not them.
Just like them, though, I was also a product of my environment. I was raised in a place where clothes didn't matter, life support systems did. I was raised in a ship where people didn't care about jewelry because the extra weight of one gem took so much math and planning to account for that it just wasn't worth it to own pretty things. My most significant contact with a society was with one that was so short lived that if I was actually a member during my time there, then I would have been old enough to be considered for the elder council.
I didn't hate the kids at school. I was frustrated at not being able to adapt, to fit in. We were products of our own environments. I get that now. Then? I'll admit it took a lot of thought to get around to that peace. I will fully admit that I was in a deep teenage funk that night. I felt isolated and alone, and it was made worse by the looks from the adults. They made it clear that the failure was mine, and they never even had to say it out loud.
I wasn't sorry I said what I did. I wasn't even that sorry the news got it all wrong. I was sorry that once again, I let them down. And at the time, I didn't even know how. Plans were made to try and get me to be accepted through other means. More parties, but different ones. Afternoon teas with the rich instead of night time bashes with the famous. I was going to attend "grand openings", even though I had no clue what those were. If I couldn't fit in with the average kid, then they were going to try and force me to fit in with my wealthy "peers".
I felt defeated but determined. I hated feeling like a failure at every turn. At times, I truly felt like Reginald, Ralph, and Christophe thought I was intentionally sabotaging things. I wasn't, and even looking back with everything that I've learned since, I can still honestly say that I never, never intentionally chose to buck the system. Not at that point. At that point, I would have spent every credit in that huge and useless bank account to have someone give me the magic key to making myself accepted and liked.
I did what they said. I did every single thing they told me to. Well, except the stupid ties and bows. I still took them off any chance I got. I went to the boring luncheons. I attended "garden teas" that really took place in digital gardens so really should have been called "large screen display teas". I "schmoozed", as Ralph called it, to the best of my ability. No matter how hard I tried, I felt the people of Earth continue to elude my understanding. The harder I tried, the further outside I felt. The frustration built and built. And there wasn't a thing I could do about it, because the next day, I just had to get up and try again.
Chapter 13
It was a long few months before I finally got to meet Alistair. Reginald and Christophe kept pushing it off and pushing it off until I snapped one day and refused to go to an interview. I guess I could only be pushed so far before I needed a break. So I was finally allowed to travel to the wilds of Montana and meet my Mother's nephew she never knew.
I looked at the old man. His eyes were sharp blue, like Mother's. His hair, what was left of it, was undyed. Natural, unlike nearly everyone else I met. His face was wrinkled. Lynette said later he was "one of those naturalists"...people who refused the cosmetic lifts and tucks to look younger. He was slightly stooped, and walked with a small shuffle. And he just stood and stared at me.
I wondered if he saw Mother in me, as I saw her in him. He never met her. It made me wonder about my uncle. Had he been very much like Mother, too?
Alistair stared for what felt like hours before sighing heavily and swearing. I was surprised and more than a little amused. "You really have only aged sixteen years." His eyes were twinkling with smile in spite of the words.
His good humor was infectious and I already felt myself start to finally unwind. "And you have aged just a little more."
He broke out into a wide grin. "You noticed, eh? I had hoped to fool you into truly believing we're contemporaries!"
I had to laugh. I liked Alistair immediately. He welcomed us into his small but nice home. Everything was made of wood, and I couldn't help but think how jealous Reginald would be to see it. Ralph, Lynette, and Marlon accompanied me on the trip. It was a breath of freedom I needed. It felt like everyone wanted something from me at every moment of the day, with Christophe and Reginald controlling my every minute. It wasn't that different from Mother and Dad. But at least there had been escape with them. There was always Laak'sa. There was Little Blob. There was Ashnahta. Even when I wasn't physically with them, they were always there. My internal escape.
I really, really needed an escape.
Maybe Christophe sensed that. He backed out of the trip at the last minute. He said they had an important IOC debriefing. "Give our apologies to your family," he had said.
Alistair had coffee and cookies waiting for us. There was an older woman who he introduced as Gladys. I don't believe she was his wife. I think she was his server. A real person as a server, not a bot. She said nothing. She gave us all cups of coffee and then left the room.
Alistair couldn't stop looking at me. "I'm sure you've gotten this from all of your father's family, but your resemblance to him is absolutely striking." He nodded to the fireplace. On a shelf above it was a familiar picture, the wedding picture of Mother and Dad. "I see more of him in you than Auntie Eunice."
Maybe it was the picture that made me suddenly ache. Maybe it was being in a home, a comfortable, friendly home. I had to bite back the lump in my throat.
"I cannot get over it." He shook his head again. "And you, looking almost as if you were in that wedding party just yesterday!" he said to Ralph. "What my father would say. Oh, what he would say!"
"I remember Charles," Ralph said. "I don't know that he'd be very pleased to see me looking so young."
"Yes. He was a rather hard man," Alistair admitted. "I never understood why he felt such animosity to you."
Ralph gave an evil little grin. "He was Eunice's younger brother, Alistair. He was a tag along. He followed us everywhere, and I mean everywhere."
Alistair snorted. "He could be a little clingy."
Ralph roared. "The understatement of the century!"
"Taught him a lesson, did you?"
"Did it stick?"
Alistair shook his head and sighed. "Not one little bit. Always tagged along." His smile softened with the memories of his father. "Ah, but it made him lovable. Took the edge off the cold science side of him."
"It did at that," Ralph agreed, but I think he only agreed to please Alistair.
"So there really are different races of people out there, aren't there?"
The question came completely out of the blue. I looked to Ralph, then got angry at myself. Was I really turning into that? Relying on answers from other people? I felt disgusted. Yes, that's exactly what I was turning into. I answered without Ralph's approval because I had to. For me, I had to. "Yes. There are. Many."