Chapter 4 — Jacuzzi
And thus begins Chapter Four.
Now, children.
There we lay.
Axe.
Nuo.
The Cloud.
Anniversary officially declared active.
And I
was slowly becoming mattress.
The council watches in concern.
Not sleeping.
Merging.
My body had discovered luxury and immediately abandoned structural integrity.
Axe, meanwhile,
possessed more curiosity than I did at that exact moment.
So she sat up.
Looked around.
Explored the room.
Opened things.
Checked things.
Walked toward the balcony.
And I remained behind.
Horizontal.
At peace.
Children.
If the anniversary consisted entirely of me lying on that bed for forty eight hours,
I would have given Malpe five stars.
Then
Axe rushed back.
The council sits upright.
“We have a Jacuzzi!”
Silence.
Children.
I sat up immediately.
The mattress lost all power over me.
Jacuzzi.
The council repeats the word reverently.
Until then,
“Jacuzzi” belonged to fiction.
Movies.
Television.
Rich people.
Hotel advertisements.
Perhaps music videos where people inexplicably wore sunglasses indoors.
Children.
I knew what a Jacuzzi was in theory.
Water.
Bubbles.
Luxury.
But I had never actually seen one.
Never touched one.
Never sat inside one.
And suddenly
there was one attached to our room.
The council opens the quest log.
ANNIVERSARY OBJECTIVE UPDATED:
ENTER JACUZZI IMMEDIATELY.
Everything else ceased to matter.
The ocean?
Later.
Malpe?
Still there.
Romantic itinerary?
What itinerary?
Children.
Bubble pool.
I got up.
Walked over.
Looked.
And yes.
There it was.
A tiny private pool of warm bubbling decadence.
The council nods.
Perfect.
So I undressed.
The council pauses.
Bathing suit?
Children.
Why?
We were alone.
Private room.
Private Jacuzzi.
The only other human nearby was Axe.
My girlfriend.
The woman I loved.
The woman who had already seen every relevant piece of anatomy.
There was no social mystery remaining.
The council accepts the argument.
So
into the water.
And children
heaven.
Warm.
Bubbling.
My body lowered into it.
Legs floated.
Back settled.
Head tilted.
The little jets did whatever miraculous thing little jets do.
The council sighs happily.
I forgot about the beach.
Forgot about university.
Forgot about Carlos.
Forgot about every dog we had stopped for.
For a moment,
I may have even forgotten Axe.
The council gasps.
Dangerous admission.
Children.
Jacuzzi.
Have some perspective.
I just sat there.
Floating.
Warm water everywhere.
Bubbles around me.
No responsibility.
No quest.
No urgency.
Nothing needed to happen.
And time
stopped behaving.
Five minutes?
Maybe.
Thirty?
Possible.
A millennium?
Also plausible.
The Archive has no reliable timestamp.
The Jacuzzi had dissolved chronology.
The council nods.
Luxury induced time dilation.
Eventually
my name.
“Nuo.”
The council turns.
Axe.
I opened my eyes.
Or lifted my head.
Or otherwise returned from the aquatic plane.
My gaze shifted toward her.
And children
there are images the brain stores normally.
Faces.
Rooms.
Roads.
Sunsets.
Then there are images the brain appears to carve directly into stone.
The council grows quiet.
Axe stood there.
Naked.
Holding
a bong.
And a bowl of weed.
The council falls completely silent.
Children.
I have seen mountains.
I have seen sunsets from cliffs.
I have seen the Ganga.
Snow.
The Milky Way.
Ocean horizons.
Beautiful architecture.
But University Nuo looked at this particular arrangement of reality
and thought:
There is a God.
The council collapses.
The woman I loved.
Naked.
Bong in one hand.
Weed nearby.
Children.
Literal heaven.
Or at least the exact version of heaven designed for that particular idiot at that particular age.
The council nods.
Tailored salvation.
Axe walked over.
Set everything beside the Jacuzzi.
And climbed in.
No dramatic seduction.
No cinematic nonsense.
Just
splash.
Now there were two idiots in the bubble pool.
The council smiles.
And somehow,
conversation became unnecessary.
We had already spent the drive talking.
Stopping for dogs.
Laughing.
Arriving.
Exploring.
At that moment?
No need.
Axe loaded the bong.
One of us took a hit.
Passed it.
The other did the same.
Children.
Round and round.
Bubbles.
Warm water.
Smoke.
Silence.
Occasional grin.
Maybe a laugh.
Probably an extremely intelligent observation like:
“This is fucking amazing.”
The council nods.
Poetry.
And honestly,
it was.
We sat there.
Completely comfortable.
Not trying to make the moment romantic.
Which somehow made it romantic.
The council listens.
There is a stage of a relationship where romance still feels like performance.
Roses.
Rain.
Surprises.
Plans.
You want the other person to feel something,
so you create something.
Karkala had ended with that.
Children.
I manufactured weather.
There is commitment,
and then there is plumbing.
The council laughs.
But Malpe?
One year later?
Different.
We did not need to build a moment.
Axe brought weed.
I occupied water.
She joined.
Done.
The council nods.
Romance had become logistics.
And comfort.
And knowing exactly what the other person would enjoy.
She did not return with champagne.
No elaborate anniversary gift.
No tray of strawberries.
Children.
Bong.
Weed.
Correct audience targeting.
The council applauds.
And I suspect that is why this image survived so clearly.
Not simply because Axe was naked.
University Nuo was a simple man,
yes.
But this was more than physical attraction.
It was the entire picture.
Axe understood me.
She had looked at the Jacuzzi,
looked at me,
and apparently thought:
This idiot requires weed.
The council nods solemnly.
Love language identified.
So there we were.
Warm water up to our shoulders.
Passing the bong back and forth.
Our first few hours in Malpe.
The beach barely explored.
The resort already exceeding every expectation I possessed.
And the anniversary weekend beginning
beautifully.
The council grows suspicious.
Too beautifully.
Children.
Yes.
Remember the warning.
The shit show was coming.
But the universe had manners.
It gave us this first.
A little pocket of perfection.
No disaster.
No confusion.
No one lost.
No faculty search party.
No stairs.
No deadlines.
Just us.
The council smiles.
Two people who had started one year earlier beside a naked statue,
now sitting naked together in a Jacuzzi.
The council pauses.
Full circle?
Children.
Do not make that symbolism deeper than it deserves to be.
The statue would object.
The council laughs.
Still
there was something funny about it.
Karkala:
“Haha, that statue is naked.”
Malpe:
Look at us now.
The council closes its eyes.
Growth.
Debatable.
Eventually,
the bowl got lighter.
The room became softer around the edges.
The water felt warmer.
And the two of us remained there
close,
comfortable,
stoned,
happy.
No rush to get out.
No need to see everything immediately.
The ocean could wait.
Children.
That mattered.
This was our anniversary.
Not a checklist.
Not:
Beach by four.
Dinner by seven.
Photos at sunset.
Wake up at six for sunrise.
No.
We had two days.
We would let them happen.
At least,
that was the theory.
The council looks ominously toward the next page.
For now,
however
perfect.
And perhaps this was the best possible beginning.
Not grand.
Not profound.
Just deeply,
specifically,
us.
Axe choosing luxury.
Nuo discovering luxury.
Axe remembering weed.
Nuo immediately understanding this as divine providence.
The council nods.
Compatibility.
Sometimes love is shared values.
Sometimes love is shared dreams.
And sometimes love is your girlfriend walking into a room holding a bong
and you realizing she has correctly assessed the situation.
Children.
Good start to the weekend.
Very good start.
Suspiciously good.
Thus concludes Chapter Four.
The Jacuzzi Discovery.
The Collapse Of Mattress Supremacy.
The First Bubble Pool.
The Vision Of Heaven.
The Bong.
The Weed.
And Two Idiots In Warm Water.
Children.
The anniversary had begun.
Properly.
And for a little while,
everything was perfect.
Which,
in the Archive,
usually means disaster is somewhere nearby
putting on its shoes.
