Chapter 8 — Home
And thus begins Chapter Eight.
The final chapter.
Now, children.
Karkala was over.
Technically.
We had returned.
The bus ride ended.
The group dispersed.
The assignment remained a problem for Future Us.
And I went home.
Simple.
Except
my brain refused to shut up.
The council leans forward.
Axe.
Not obsessive.
Not dramatic.
Not:
I cannot live without this woman.
Children.
Relax.
Just
constant.
The stairs.
“Bite me.”
The naked statue.
Her laughing.
The cliff.
Rain.
The sunset.
Her head on my shoulder.
The photograph Stitch sent.
Little fragments.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Eventually,
I realized something.
No.
Correction.
I had already realized it.
I had simply reached the stage where I could no longer pretend I hadn’t.
The council grows quiet.
I liked this woman.
Not:
She’s hot.
That had been established.
Not:
She’s fun.
Also established.
I liked her.
The irritating kind.
The kind that causes thoughts.
The council shudders.
Dangerous.
Extremely.
And University Nuo,
faced with an unfamiliar emotional problem,
did what University Nuo always did.
Something unnecessary.
The council becomes concerned.
Children.
I had an idea.
A terrible,
elaborate,
completely disproportionate idea.
And once the idea existed
there was no stopping it.
The council opens the operation log.
I set things up.
Made arrangements.
Acquired supplies.
Contacted the only person in my social network capable of sourcing virtually anything at unreasonable hours.
The council turns knowingly.
Sharky.
Of course.
Children.
Dealer.
Friend.
Logistics officer.
Agriculture department.
And apparently
romance support staff.
The man had range.
The council applauds.
Eventually,
everything was ready.
Or as ready as a plan created by University Nuo at two in the morning could reasonably become.
Then
I called Axe.
The council glances at the clock.
Two.
AM
Children.
An excellent time to contact a classmate you have recently developed feelings for.
She answered.
I said something along the lines of:
“Come over.
Quick.
It’s urgent.”
The council pauses.
Urgent?
Children.
Technically,
my feelings felt time sensitive.
Axe responded with the kind of logic I had temporarily misplaced.
“Dude.
It’s 2 am”
The council erupts.
VALID OBJECTION.
Very.
But the Unbegun is a persistent creature.
If one method fails
change methods.
Apparently this protocol applied to romance too.
I insisted.
She resisted.
I insisted again.
And eventually,
I reached the obvious conclusion.
Fine.
I’ll get you.
The council sighs.
Enter
Carlos.
The council cheers.
My glorious car.
Small.
Reliable enough.
Frequently forced to participate in nonsense it had never consented to.
Children.
Carlos deserved better.
I drove to Axe’s apartment.
There she was.
Annoyed.
Confused.
Probably wondering why she associated with me at all.
I picked her up.
No useful explanation.
Just:
Come.
The council watches.
And somehow,
she did.
Perhaps curiosity.
Perhaps because by then she liked me too.
Perhaps because Stitch had already poisoned her judgment with matchmaking encouragement.
Whatever the reason
Axe got into Carlos.
And I drove her back to my apartment.
Children.
At this point,
she had no idea what awaited.
Good.
That was intentional.
We arrived.
I told her to close her eyes.
The council becomes suspicious.
She probably asked why.
I probably said:
Just trust me.
And astonishingly
she did.
Eyes closed.
I took her hand.
The council grows quiet.
Guided her inside.
One step.
Another.
Through the apartment.
Into the living room.
Then
stop.
“Open.”
She did.
The council looks around.
Roses.
Children.
Roses everywhere.
Flowers.
Petals scattered around the room.
A ridiculous amount of romantic botanical evidence.
The council pauses.
At two in the morning?
Yes.
We’ll discuss logistics shortly.
Axe stood there.
Frozen.
Shocked.
Surprised.
Awestruck.
And most importantly
pleased.
Not subtle pleased.
The kind of pleased where your brain appears to be processing too many emotions at once and the face stops knowing which one to display.
The council smiles.
She looked around.
At the roses.
At me.
Back at the roses.
Probably preparing several questions.
And then
rain.
The council freezes.
Rain?
Rain.
Children.
Inside.
The council goes completely silent.
Water began falling.
A drizzle.
From above.
In my living room.
Axe looked up.
Then at me.
Confusion upgraded.
Because remember
hours earlier,
on a cliff in Karkala,
she had said:
“It’s so hot.
Why can’t it rain?
I love the rain.”
The council grows quiet.
And the rain had refused to arrive.
Wrong season.
Wrong weather.
Mythical creature.
So University Nuo apparently thought:
Fine.
I’ll make one.
The council stares.
You manufactured weather?
Indoors.
Low budget weather.
But weather nonetheless.
And there we were.
Roses underfoot.
Water falling.
Clothes beginning to soak.
Hair wet.
Axe staring at me like I had either performed the sweetest gesture imaginable
or suffered a complete psychological break.
Children.
Both interpretations were fair.
The drizzle continued.
And beneath it
our eyes met.
The council goes quiet.
No speech.
No grand declaration.
No:
Axe, from the moment I saw you
God, no.
Nothing.
Because sometimes words only make a moment worse.
I leaned in.
Slightly.
Not all the way.
The council watches.
And Axe
leaned too.
Children.
There.
Consent by movement.
Mutual.
No ambiguity.
So I closed the distance.
And kissed her.
The council smiles.
In the rain.
Inside my living room.
Surrounded by rose petals.
At some unholy hour of the morning.
Because apparently the origin of Axe and Nuo could not simply be:
“Hey, I like you.”
The council laughs.
Of course not.
We were incapable of normal beginnings.
And that
children
was it.
No proposal through words.
No formal question.
No:
Will you be my girlfriend?
At least not in the moment that mattered.
Just action.
Recognition.
The kiss.
The beginning.
The council records:
AXE + NUO
STATUS UPDATED.
Now.
You are probably wondering:
How?
The council immediately raises several hands.
Correct.
Let us discuss mechanics.
Because romance is lovely,
but engineering deserves credit.
First
flowers.
At two in the morning.
The council looks suspicious.
Where exactly does one acquire enough roses to redecorate a living room at 2 a.m.?
Children.
Sharky knew a guy.
The council collapses.
Of course he did.
The agriculture man knew a guy.
Need weed?
Sharky.
Need questionable substances?
Sharky.
Need emergency roses during nocturnal hours for an improvised romantic operation?
Apparently also Sharky.
Children.
A good dealer is really just a highly connected project manager.
The council nods reluctantly.
So
flowers acquired.
Petals distributed.
Living room transformed.
But then
the rain.
The council leans forward.
Surely you did not have indoor sprinklers.
No.
Children.
I had a shower.
A hose.
Tape.
And poor judgment.
The council becomes alarmed.
I bought a hose.
Attached one end to the shower faucet.
Ran it out toward the living room.
Then
attached the other end near the ceiling fan.
The council freezes.
Near the fan?
Taped to it.
The council screams.
Children.
Before anyone begins conducting an engineering review
this is memoir.
Not instruction.
Do not recreate University Nuo infrastructure.
The council nods violently.
The objective was simple.
Water from shower.
Through hose.
Up.
Then distributed downward.
Rain.
Was this sophisticated?
No.
Was it safe by modern adult standards?
Also no.
Did University Nuo care?
Children.
Look around.
Then came the most important component.
Timing.
Because I could not simultaneously:
guide Axe inside,
stand romantically before her,
and operate the water.
The council turns.
Sharky.
Children.
Sharky was there.
Hidden somewhere outside the immediate scene,
awaiting his cue like a stage technician in the world’s most chaotic theatre production.
I had given him one instruction.
Turn on the water
when the moment feels right.
The council goes silent.
You trusted SHARKY with romantic timing?
Children.
With my life.
And gods
the man delivered.
Axe opens eyes.
Roses.
Shock.
Beat.
Then
rain.
Perfect.
The council stands.
GOOD MAN.
Excellent man.
Somewhere offstage,
Sharky had become Cupid with plumbing access.
The council applauds.
And there I was,
kissing Axe under artificial rain
while my dealer controlled the weather from another room.
Children.
Romance.
Pure romance.
No notes.
The council laughs.
Well
perhaps several notes.
But none necessary.
Because ridiculous mechanics aside,
the moment worked.
That is what survived.
Not the hose.
Not the tape.
Not whatever water damage my living room may have briefly contemplated.
The council looks around nervously.
What survived was Axe.
Roses.
Rain.
The kiss.
And the feeling that something had shifted permanently.
The council grows quiet.
Karkala had begun as an assignment.
Four students.
One month.
Forgotten until the final day.
We went because we had to.
Not because Axe and I were looking for anything.
Not because we intended to become anything.
At the beginning,
she was Stitch’s friend.
Pretty classmate.
That was all.
Then
stairs.
Misery.
“Bite me.”
A naked statue.
A shared stupid laugh.
A cliff.
A conversation whose words vanished but whose comfort stayed.
She wished for rain.
We watched a sunset.
Took photographs.
Sat together on the bus.
Slept in the Sacred Pose.
And by two in the morning
University Nuo had decided weather itself was negotiable.
The council smiles.
Children.
That escalated quickly.
Very.
But perhaps that is why this Wandering deserves its place.
Not because it taught me some grand lesson.
Not every Wandering needs one.
Karkala gave me a person.
Or more accurately
it gave us the circumstances in which two classmates noticed each other.
The council nods.
That distinction matters.
Axe did not become important because fate assigned her.
We spent time together.
We laughed.
We found similarities.
We became comfortable.
Then we both chose one step closer.
And another.
Until finally
kiss.
The council grows quiet.
And somewhere in all of this,
Karkala also gave me another thing.
The bone tag.
The first relic.
Children.
Think about that.
The Wandering that began Axe and Nuo
also produced the first object that would eventually become part of the bracelet Archive.
At the time,
neither mattered in the way they would later.
Axe was not yet girlfriend.
Tag was not yet relic.
The council smiles.
Karkala was full of things becoming themselves before anyone knew their names.
Perhaps that is its theme.
Not origins announced.
Origins hidden.
The beginning of Axe and Nuo.
The beginning of the bone tag ritual.
A little glimpse of the Archivist in those cliff selfies.
All inside a university assignment we nearly forgot to complete.
The council laughs softly.
Origins are humiliating things.
Always.
Now.
The essay?
Children.
We will allow the academic record its privacy.
The real assignment had already been completed.
Not the one the teacher gave us.
The one history apparently cared about.
And as Axe and I stood there
soaked,
surrounded by roses,
kissing beneath rain that absolutely should not have existed
the Eighth Wandering finally found its ending.
Not at Karkala.
Not on the bus.
At home.
Hours later.
Because sometimes the road continues after you leave the place.
The council nods.
Thus concludes Chapter Eight.
The Two AM Summons.
Carlos.
The Emergency Roses.
The Indoor Rain.
Sharky, God Of Weather.
The First Kiss.
And The Beginning Of Axe And Nuo.
Children.
Karkala began with four idiots remembering an assignment at the last possible moment.
It ended with one of those idiots taping a hose to his ceiling
because a girl had mentioned she loved rain.
The council smiles.
Romantic?
Somehow.
Unhinged?
Absolutely.
Unbegun?
Completely.
And so ends the Eighth Wandering of the Unbegun.
Karkala.
The Wandering where a classmate became Axe.
Where a souvenir became the first relic.
Where a pose was born.
And where,
because the sky refused to rain for her
I made it rain myself.
