The many colleges of Oxford highly valued their outer walls, and Lincoln was no different. You couldn't tell from the street, but Carol knew that the chimneys and the crenelations were raised above the school’s roofline and were only placed on the outermost edge of the buildings to provide an illusion of grandeur. Even before this whole deal with Rose, the great arched doorway that was Lincoln’s outer gate went almost completely unused in lieu of a smaller side-door that made for a better security checkpoint.
It was interesting that the schools separated themselves from each other as much as the outside world. As far as Carol's American friends knew, Oxford University was Oxford University, but in reality, she would have to pay fifty pence or more to get a good look at another college's interior.Her first summer there, she had. The city was full of interesting nooks and setpieces from famous movies.
Now, Carol found herself staring at Lincoln College’s grand stone entrance, unable to give a voice to her apprehension.
"What if we didn't go back yet?" Gina suggested. "It's still light out. Kinda."
"My feet are tired," said Hannah.
People were walking up and down the Turl, beneath Lincoln's prominent House Bridge, which connected the main campus to a residential building across the street. The occasional group of passerby might stop and point at the gate, discussing the all-too-obvious topic of interest, but there hadn't been the crowd of tourists Carol had been expecting. Maybe it was because it was so late, but maybe people had gotten bored of staring at a big wooden door all day. News trucks were parked a couple blocks away (the group had gone to see them at Nic's request), but from here Lincoln looked nearly identical to its tiny neighboring colleges.
"Carol has to get to sleep," said Nic. "And not at my place. I don't think they would let you in that early."
"And we need to write our responses," Gina pointed out.
The little homework assignment that Rose had assigned. Carol avoided making eye contact with anyone else. They wouldn't opt to leave, would they? Surely not. If anything, Nic would stay.
"We need to move your stuff anyway," said Carol. Most of Nic's junk was still in his Balliol dorm, and the security team had promised to help move it at some point.
Nic sighed. "Let's just do it later this weekend. There's plenty of time."
"Sure. But I still want to take advantage of being out too. Why not both?" said Carol. "Sam?"
"Let's go hard!" said Hannah, grabbing Sam by the arm. "Team Three, on the prowl. Oxford won't know what hit them."
"You can't call us 'Team Three'," said Gina. "We--"
"The Varsity Club is close," Sam suggested.
"Doesn't that place have a fifteen-pound cover charge?" asked Gina.
"Who cares?" asked Hannah. "We're all rich."
Carol couldn't believe antacid’s effectiveness and speed. She considered taking a third tablet, but her stock was starting to run low. She had also considered making herself throw up just to get it over with, but she still held onto some of her dignity, unlike most of the water and electrolytes in her blood.
She pictured herself standing in front of the gate to Lincoln, trying to evoke a memory. Nothing.
It was past 6:00 AM, making her over an hour and a half late for the meeting, but a text from an unknown US number made it pretty clear that it would be okay:
[Let’s meet whenever you’re ready. Just let me know.]
So that had obviously been Rose.
I have Rose Statton’s number, Carol dully remarked to herself as she struggled out of bed. That said, she already had Rose’s school email address. Not to mention a telepathic connection..
“I’m up,” she said to the empty room. If there was ever a time to avoid using telepathy, it was now. She didn't so much as touch any of her connections. God, maybe throwing up would be worth it. And why not test out Rose’s superhuman hearing while she could? Maybe Rose wouldn’t hear, or would pretend not to have. “Let me shower?”
She forced herself to chug some more water. Maybe more antacid would be necessary. Why didn’t I go to the grocery while I had the chance?
Her memories were so fragmented. Last night had not been a healthy reaction to her current predicament. And her mind was, for some reason, lucid as it had ever been. Just perfect, so she couldn't ignore the discomfort. Why, why, why?
On second thought, the answer to why was pretty obvious.
Carol turned on the shower and let it heat up for a moment, addressing the more concerning problem that had stumped her all morning: How did I get back here?
What had happened last night? Her memories had several huge gaps, but one conversation seemed lucid:
“The problem isn't that,” said Carol, briefly wondering what the ‘problem’ she had just referenced actually was. What had Nic said a moment ago? Whatever. “It's that if I send this message, she'll know.”
“So what are you gonna do?” asked Sam. “Not send it?”
The five of 'Team Three' were gathered in Nic’s apartment. Security was supposed to help him move his things to Lincoln this weekend, but certain things of his had needed disposing of first. Certain things that there turned out to be quite a lot of, especially when Gina refused to help. Cool of her to stick around, though.
“I don't know,” said Carol, who had helped a lot thus far. “God, she knows too much. Why do I have to live next to her?”
“Relax, she'll understand,” said Nic from his position on the bed behind her.
Oh, Nicolas. He always made the best points. Right now he was giving Carol a killer shoulder massage, not that he had ever given her one before.
“Yeah, that's right, isn't it? Knowing means understanding,” Carol agreed. “She knows I'm under pressure. You can't hate something you understand, can you?”
“Is that true?” asked Gina. “I mean, I'm sure Hitler didn't hate himself that much, so you're saying we should—”
“Do you understand Hitler?” Hannah interrupted.
“If I had telepathy with him, I'm sure he could offer his perspective,” said Gina. “It would definitely be insane and irrational, which I guess wouldn't be his fault in a way. Doesn't make it right. Doesn't make him innocent. So no, I wouldn't be able to understand that.”
“Sorry, that was a lot, give me a second,” Carol giggled, holding up a finger. “But I'm not Hitler. I'm just under a lot pressure and am, um, embarrassed by my actions.”
“And the right thing is still the right thing,” said Gina. “Feeling embarrassed stays valid, no matter how much empathy everyone has.”
“Maybe even more,” realized Carol. “I mean, I’m gonna feel awful tomorrow morning.” She caught a glimpse of her phone's screen and laughed to herself. “Holy shit, did you read this message? It’s a good thing I didn’t send it.”
“Give it here,” said Hannah.
“Don’t do anything,” said Carol, handing her the device.
“I’m not!”
“You're talking about, like, if we started judging people based on their motives instead of their actions,” Sam chimed in. “That is some real shit.”
“Wouldn't that be better than how it is?” asked Gina.
“No!” said Carol.
“Why not?” asked Gina.
“Because it's giving me anxiety," she complained. Nobody spoke up, so Carol continued: “I keep deciding to go further, but every time we start getting into my feelings I back out. My feelings about being around her, specifically, I guess,” she laughed. She had wanted to point out that this was getting too real, but that would only sidetrack the conversation. “And those probably aren't great. On a personal level, not a scientific one. I don’t really know what I meant by that last part.”
“You said you think she's good, right?” asked Nic, still rubbing Carol’s back.
“Yeah, but personally, I think the truth is she sucks. Or talking to her sucks. I don't know,” Carol admitted. “And it's because of this crap. She's so judgemental, but she can't help it.”
“So your problem is whenever you're with her, you’re both aware that you're both thinking about that?” asked Gina.
“You both know that you’re both thinking about you both knowing what you're…” Hannah began.
“There's a term for that, like, when two people are aware that both are thinking of the same thing. Joint attention,” said Carol. “Or, I think it is. I don't know if there's a term for when one person assumes joint attention.”
“Maybe she doesn't think about it,” suggested Nic.
“That’s what I’m saying!” said Carol. “We haven't talked about it that much, and honestly I have no idea what—or how—she thinks.”
“Then,” Gina hesitated. “Maybe you should talk about it?”
“Probably,” said Carol. “I'll add it to the list.”
"Do you actually have a list?" asked Gina.
"Not really," Carol answered. "She told me that in a week or so I'd understand, so I figured I'd just wait."
"Then what's your problem?" asked Hannah. "In a week you can just be kumbaya, and it's all good?"
"I guess the problem is the waiting," Carol decided. "What are we supposed to do in the meantime? Nothing?"
"The class has been a lot of nothing," said Gina. "Sounds about right."
"So first it's too fast for you, and now it's too slow?" asked Hannah.
"I mean, I'm nervous about it, but another part of me is impatient. She hasn't told us anything about telepathy, and what we'll be doing," said Carol. "I do need to ask her about that."
"We also haven't actually done anything related to telepathy in class," said Hannah.
"Rose talks with telepathy," said Sam. "I don't think I've seen her use sign language at all."
"We already talked about this, remember? She'll probably draw it out over the entire term, Gina said. "We have until Christmas to learn it."
“But we’ll have it in full much sooner,” said Nic. "How are we supposed to be the best if we aren't using our full capabilities as soon as possible?"
"Yeah," Carol agreed. "Screw this emotional development time, or whatever she's doing. Let's get it now."
"It sounds like you need to ask her about that," said Gina. "Go to her tomorrow morning and tell her you're ready."
Now, Carol found herself saying “Hey,” to the comically proportioned silhouette of a lizard-person standing in the dark doorway. “I’m so sorry.”
“Shhh,” Rose replied, out loud.
Would it always be surprising whenever she did human things? Why was that so weird?
You have nothing to be sorry about, said Rose, once Carol reluctantly opened the connection. Could you hit the light?
Now, there was a benefit of telepathy that Carol hadn’t yet considered: avoiding waking the sleeping guy in the other room.
She hit the switch and took in the sight of the dorm. It looked notably more lived in since the other day; Carol hadn't really gotten a good look the previous morning. There were two meal trays on the big desk, both with plates and utensils in need of cleaning. Wires stretched from the couch to a game system across the floor.
Sorry for the mess, Rose began. The dragon wore another one of her custom shirts tucked into what were essentially denim shorts with an extra leg hole. I take it you had a fun night out?
Yeah, said Carol. Fun was probably a word for it. No, I am sorry. I told you I could meet you like this and then let you down. She kept hoping that Rose would interrupt her, but it never came. I’ve been irresponsible for going to sleep so late. This was stupid.
Then the following idea will sound like I’m reprimanding you, but I’m not, said Rose. She turned away and walked to the front of the couch, prompting Carol to follow. I was going to suggest we dial back a bit on these meetings. Maybe just meet at six from now on?
Oh, Carol thought to herself. Shit. Shitshitshit.
I can do better, she said to Rose. This is a much higher priority for me than my other classes.
Carol expected Rose to jump onto the sofa, but instead she just looked at Carol with her giant eyes and cocked her snakelike head.
No. I can’t ask you to live a normal college life and have to obsess over sleep. There are alternate sleep schedules I’ve looked up that you could experiment with, but for now I’d like to try shorter meetings. Anyway, you must be starving.
Um, yeah, Carol responded to the unexpected segue. Internally, she started to worry. She wasn’t overly embarrassed about being hungover on a Friday morning, but the reasons for being hungover were pretty obvious, and more 'reprimanding' didn’t sound fun. Anyway, the feeling in her stomach was quite different from what she would call starving, but experience told her it should be treated the same. Food good.
Look, we got a kettle! And I got you a gift.
A gift?
Rose cantered into the other room where Will was presumably sleeping, while Carol sat herself down on the couch. Sitting good. She noticed that the computer screen was on, and displayed pictures of several of her classmates in cells of a spreadsheet file.
Once Carol realized what she was looking at, she averted her gaze, though she wondered what information Rose had written about her.
The dragon came trotting into the room like a three-legged dog, awkwardly carrying a box with one of her arms.
Jaffa cakes? Carol realized.
I couldn’t remember if you said they were Nic’s, but I had to return the favor. Did you say you liked them?
Yeah, they’re alright, she said, opening the box and popping one into her mouth as if to provide evidence for her claim. Thank you.
No, thank you, Rose argued.
For what?
Rose just looked at her, and for the first time Carol noticed that there was something unusual about the scene.
For not getting paranoid?
Rose practically smiled. Yes.
It was strange. Carol’s heart rate wasn’t up, and she didn’t feel a trace of the typical anxiety that she had come to expect when meeting Rose. Was that the hangover, or was she already comfortable with conversing with an alien? The gift had seemed almost normal. Was it normal? She hadn’t even gotten paranoid about the spreadsheet, which —God dammit, why did my eyes just move on their own?
I didn’t realize the computer was awake, Rose explained.
I’m sorry. I didn’t look.
It’s just an exercise I do before class to remember your names. Nothing private.
Face blindness. It was obvious, in retrospect. Carol looked at the screen again and counted. Fifteen students. So only three had taken Rose’s advice and left?
Only three decided to leave, Rose echoed. So far. I never got your email, by the way.
Oh, said Carol. I, um, I think I wrote one but didn't send it.
Did you believe my words didn’t apply to you? Rose asked, her expression unexpectedly stern.
No I think I got the message. I did think about it, said Carol, but she knew that wasn’t enough, so she added, but let me think some more later. It’s due at class, right?
Yes, said Rose. She looked back towards the monitor.
Carol stared at the fifteen faces and breathed a sigh of relief. All five of her friend group remained. She noted the redheaded second-year that had spoken up the day before.
They singled me out yesterday, she said, unsure how to phrase it. She didn’t want to rat on the other students, exactly, but if anyone needed to know, it was Rose.
I heard, said Rose. The dragon jumped onto the sofa. She leaned against the side, allowing for a generous buffer of space between herself and Carol.
Carol waited, but Rose offered no further words.
What was the point of that? Carol asked.
Rose blinked at her.
People keep asking the same question. Why does everything need to have a point?
Did it not have one? It was just a game?
It was a game and it was also a neat little social experiment. Rose flashed Carol an evil grin, and it was immediately obvious why the alien had avoided opening her mouth before. You devoured each other like wolves, didn’t you?
Do wolves devour each other?
I don’t know. I suppose they don't. Wasn’t it fun?
Yeah, Carol said. She didn’t like the implications of whatever Rose had just tried to tell her. Didn’t you tell me you weren’t cynical?
That doesn’t mean I’m not interested in competition. There was a strong push in all three groups to cooperate. This was only the first game of the term, so I’m very interested in seeing how your strategies advance from here.
The first game?
I’m thinking of having a new game each Friday. How does that sound?
I think Nic and Gina will love it, said Carol, sighing. Hearing herself sigh out loud was jarring. It briefly highlighted the absurdity of the scene, that she had been sitting still and silently staring into the eyes of an alien, but she forced herself to stay in the moment.
But what about you? Rose asked. You just sighed.
Some muscles around Rose's eyes tightened, but Carol tried not to apply her instinctual understanding human emotions to the expression. It was something else. Compassion? Worry?
I don’t know. Sorry, I’m not feeling well, so maybe it’s affecting my outlook. But I’ve never been too competitive.
Carol worried that she shouldn’t have mentioned her present state, but Rose hadn’t made her talk about it thus far. Would she seize the opportunity?
You told me you wanted to be the best, said Rose.
Carol almost sighed with relief, but stopped herself. Rose was going easy on her. Maybe the slow way was for the best, in the long run.
I do, but I guess I’m interested in what people end up doing, like you. I kinda want to figure out if telepathy is good or bad, so games are a nice test.
Rose's snout tightened. Another new facial expression?
You like to examine the bigger picture, don't you? You're still testing the waters, Rose shifted around to face Carol more directly. We have the same goal, so you can help me. Would you like to design a game or two?
Wait, what? asked Carol. That second part could wait. How do we have the same goal? Do you not think telepathy is good?
I don’t know, Rose shrugged. How could I?
What do you mean ‘how could you’? You don’t like it?
I love it, Rose pouted, but I’m incredibly biased. How could I possibly decide a thing like that?
The dragon’s constant staring was making Carol uncomfortable, so she forced herself to look away.
Isn’t that what you’re doing? Isn’t the point of the class to spread it?
And to play games, have fun, and learn together, Rose hesitated. Look, I do believe it’s probably good. Whenever I see a human with a problem, that problem can almost always be chalked up to a lack of understanding with another human. And everyone craves affection, not just dragons. Telepathy is a nice thing. A beautiful thing. But you’re aware there are issues.
Carol couldn't help examining the dragon's face again. Rose seemed to be taking a neutral stance, but was it for show, or did she truly believe in it? If Rose’s face was anything to go by, then her thoughts were, as far as Carol’s interpretation skills had progressed, snakelike.
What if the games make you think telepathy is bad? Carol asked.
Then I suppose we’ll have to tell people not to use it.
Carol stared at Rose. That hadn’t been what she had expected at all. Not use telepathy?
How could you respond to something like that?
She mentally scrambled for something to discuss, anything to keep the conversation away from the elephant in the room.
Did you say you can’t remember our names?
That Night
“Yeah, I don’t know,” said Carol. “She pointed out you two specifically,” she said, gesturing towards Gina and Hannah.
“Us? We don’t look at all alike,” said Hannah. She slammed her glass down on the table dramatically. “I’m offended. I even hung out with her after class!”
“Hannah’s blonde,” complained Gina, with an air of superiority to match Hannah’s drama.
“I don’t know, you kinda look alike,” said Nic.
They really didn’t. Sometimes Carol had to question Nic’s judgement. Or was he supporting Rose just because?
“What about you, Carol?” asked Hannah. “Gina is way more similar to you.”
“She said I’m easy,” said Carol.
“Ain’t that right, Nic?” asked Hannah.
“Because of my American accent," Carol continued. "Nic, defend me.”
Nic shrugged.
"Bad," he said, putting his drink down and wagging a finger at Hannah.
“Okay that makes no sense at all,” said Hannah. “We’re talking about appearances. She’s clearly just racist. I’m sure she had no problem with Fei Fei.”
“She actually mentioned that she didn’t,” Carol admitted. “That’s not really racist; our class is just mostly—”
“Speciesist, at least," Sam joked. "Humans are all the same.”
“You know she doesn’t think that,” said Carol.
“You’re defending her now?” asked Nic.
“Maybe I am,” said Carol. “She’s a pretty nice person. I was afraid that she would want to, like, stalk me, and get all into my private life, but she tries really hard to be accepting. She has a tough life, too.”
“Is making us seed everyone in class not getting into our private lives?” asked Gina.
Just before class, Carol had written and sent the email that had been her homework assignment. It had been strange to write so formally given their relationship. She had opted to use a passive tone, citing vague reasons for staying like the opportunity to better humanity. Nothing to be proud of, but hopefully Rose wouldn't read it too deeply.
During class, Carol had gotten no feedback. The activity that took up half of the time had been an extensive seeding session. In their classroom alone, there were now one hundred and thirty six telepathic connections: all possible pairs of fifteen students and two professors. The homework had been due at class time, after all, so Rose probably hadn't read it.
Some light discussion and a thirty-minute meditation session later, and Carol, Nic, and the 'Bad Apples' were free from campus yet again. Carol had no memory of the conversation that had ended with that atrocious name, but she had made her position on renaming clear. Now they found themselves in a rooftop pub happily repeating the previous night’s mistakes. It was Friday, after all. What else were they supposed to do?
“Yeah, it’s not like a psychic link with fourteen, no, fifteen people and an alien won’t mess with my private life,” said Hannah.
“Sixteen people including an alien,” corrected Carol.
“Oh, shut up, I know,” said Hannah.
“Sixteen people including a dragon who isn’t an alien because she hatched on Earth,” corrected Nic.
“Sorry, Nic, but she’s from across the pond,” said Gina. “That means she is an alien here.”
“Anyway,” said Carol, “Telepathy isn’t a big deal, is it? So far, at least.”
“But it obviously will be, very soon,” said Hannah. “You can already tell—”
Hannah promptly stopped talking and switched to telepathic speech.
—when we talk, there’s starting to be more.
“Woah woah woah,” said Gina. She stared at Hannah angrily. A line had been crossed.
They had all heard about alcohol’s effects on the skill from the horse’s mouth, so thus far an agreement had gone unspoken: absolutely no telepathy unless sober. Carol hadn't touched her connections since that morning, but she did leave them slightly ajar, just in case.
“If anything, I don’t think more connections will be a problem,” said Nic.
"I can't feel any of the new ones yet," said Hannah. "Why can't we feel anything until it works?"
"To make it less straightforward?" suggested Carol. "Why go to the trouble of making anything easy to describe?"
“God, I hated seeding,” said Hannah. “I wish people would just seed me instead.”
“I bet you do,” said Sam.
“Shut up,” said Nic. “We’re not supposed to talk about it.”
“Why not?” asked Hannah. “It’s not like we signed an NDA about seeding. She just asked.”
“She asked politely, so let’s not,” Carol agreed. “I already made up my mind not to tell my advisor, and I know he’s going to ask about it on Tuesday.”
“If anything, it makes us look weird,” said Hannah. “I mean, who would ever think to—”
“I have a feeling that’s the only reason she asked,” Carol interrupted, before more damage could be done. “But still.”
Saturday
"You really want to stay outside, don't you?" asked Nic.
He had caught Carol staring at the door. The two of them had been standing in the entrance room to Lincoln, waiting on the guards to clear Nic's luggage, for what felt like forever. She had spent the night in his Balliol dorm, but that morning a pair of guards had come to collect them and bring Nic's belongings to his new home.
"I don't know," admitted Carol. "I still can't remember coming in yesterday. If I don't want to go in now, maybe my subconscious really is freaking out."
"All I need to do is show these guys to my room," said Nic. "What do you think?"
"I'm being escapist. Obviously," she said.
"Yeah, obviously," Nic replied.
"But isn't it good to indulge yourself from time to time?"
"You're under more stress than any of us," he said. “I think you have a good excuse.”
"But what is she doing?" asked Carol. “Like right now. Do you know?”
Nic paused. "I don't know. What do you think?"
"I don't know either. I don’t have a clue what she does all the time,” said Carol. “She presents herself as being all socially needy, like, she was so glad I was there for her, but now she wants to meet at six. As far as I know, she spends most of her time locked up in that dorm with Will. And she said she hates being indoors!"
"So she's a liar now? I thought you were warming up."
"No, I'm saying it looks like she's having a bad time, like we all need to be more accepting or something."
"You really never hear them talking or anything in there?" asked Nic.
"It's not like they would talk out loud," Carol scoffed. "I don't know. Am I an asshole for not at least asking to, I don't know, hang out this weekend? We never finished the Lord of the Rings. Does Will have friends?"
"You can still ask," Nic suggested.
Carol ran her hands through her hair. "I'm sorry, I know that would be really cool of me, but…"
"Yeah, it's okay," said Nic. "You wait here, and I'll be back in five."
"And then what?"
"And then we stay at my place until tomorrow evening. No worries allowed until Monday."
Sunday
The brunch place at which Carol and Nic found themselves was expensive, but delicious. Carol bit into a perfectly baked scone filled with strawberry jam and thanked herself for finally staying sober on Saturday night. She had never been the type to go out and find good breakfast food, but maybe it was worth it after all.
Nic had his laptop out on the table and was pointing at Rose's cheek on a blown-up picture of her face.
"So you think when this gets pulled it means compassion, or something?" he asked.
"Like a mutual understanding, maybe," Carol said through a mouthful of scone. "And no, over here. Why do you care so much? You watched all her videos."
"She isn't that emotional in the videos. And ASL uses facial expressions, so she usually didn’t even—"
A woman’s voice from behind Carol spoke up.
“Are you talking about Rose Statton?” she asked.
Carol almost flinched, but managed to keep herself still. Nic reflexively hit the X button, causing the screen to switch to his embarrassingly cluttered desktop.
Carol turned around to see their waitress standing behind them.
“Um, yeah,” said Carol. “What do you think about her?”
How much had the waitress heard? The woman's eyes didn't seem too alarmed.
“I dunno. Mental she's here, isn't it?”
So she hadn't heard or assumed anything. Anyone in Oxford was liable to talk about Rose, Carol reminded herself, so they had nothing to worry about.
“Yeah,” said Nic.
“What do you think?" asked the waitress. "About her being here and all?"
“I dunno,” Carol said, praying for an out. “She's probably not evil. We're not vegetables, are we?”
“Probably not evil, sure, but did you see what that Korean guy said about her? Lee something. Said she's on a whole ‘nother level. So I keep my distance from Lincoln now. Used to walk by on my way home, but someone like that is someone to avoid. You ever go by there?”
“I walk by a lot," Carol lied. "Haven't seen anything.”
Except maybe it wasn't a lie. Carol had gone by Lincoln several times the past few days, and she had no memory of entering the school for at least a week. Would she ever pass back through the gate, or would she find some other excuse tonight?
“Nah, me neither. I'm just saying, I'd stay away from there if I were you.”
“Why? Do you think she can do something?” asked Nic.
“Nah, it's like—you said you're a physics guy, right? It's like gravity. People pull on each other a bit, but that's like planets. Someone like that's like a star, or a black hole. If you're too close, you're theirs. No free will. That's what I'm getting at.”
"Huh," said Carol, nodding her head. Hopefully that qualified as a nice conversation capper. Please leave.
“Makes sense,” said Nic. “But she can't be that powerful. Like, she can't predict everything.”
“I don't know," said the waitress. "If she knows you exist, you're in the well. She don’t have to be a god. I don't know how deep the well goes, but that's where it’s got to end, right?”
"Yeah?" asked Nic.
“Even if you think you have free will, that's just her pulling the strings. Not worth messing around with. So I keep my distance. I'm leaving Oxford in a couple weeks—my brother’s up in Newcastle. Might not come back.”
"You're leaving?" Carol couldn't help but ask. "Why?"
"I just said why," said the woman. "When shit goes down, I don't want to be standing in the middle of it. You finished with that plate?"
Monday
Deja vu, Carol thought to herself as she knocked on Rose’s door. This morning wasn’t as bad as Friday, but it was a close second. There wasn’t a question that Rose (and probably Will) had heard her last night, but thankfully they hadn’t said anything.—
I’m here, she said, forcing herself to open the connection despite her throbbing head.
It wasn’t that her behavior was bad, either. Carol was a college student, after all. Nothing to be ashamed of.
She did remember going through the gates to Lincoln, but the scene was hazy. Thankfully Nic was there to lead her back home. Turl Street was closed to the public at night, so they had to arrange for a guard to pick them up further away, and then had to wait forever yet again for security clearance. Couldn’t Rose have just forced the guards to accept Carol and Nic as non-threats? God, what they must have thought, seeing Carol come through for the second time in two days. She didn’t remember any familiar faces, so at least there was that.
But the weekend was in the past. The term was just beginning, and now she had a considerable source of income. Nothing excessive was happening.
Then again, maybe today wouldn't be the best time to—
Hello! said the living 3D animation model that had opened the door. Are you okay? You look awful.
Thanks, joked Carol. She hoped the intended light-heartedness translated. I feel awful. Still got those cookies?
Of course, said Rose, but she didn’t move from her position blocking the door frame. This isn’t normal for you, is it?
It wasn’t a question. Because Rose knew. She understood, and Carol hadn’t been able to explain herself, so now the morning’s meeting was inevitably going to be some kind of lecture or introspection, and further delay.
No, Carol tried. It’s okay, I—
Carol, said Rose with a remarkable burst of intensity.
Carol, said Rose with a remarkable burst of intensity.
Just one word, but oh, the word.
Carol mentally staggered at the broadness of it. And she hadn’t even opened the connection all the way. The sound echoed in her brain with an authority of its own. It had sound, pitch and timbre, a mind-bogglingly high-fidelity, human, feminine, British, voice.
Yet its vocals had an accompaniment. Normally, deeper meaning could only be inferred from tone and context. Here, it was discreet, unmistakable, and equally rich, if not moreso:
I care about you. Slow down. I understand your discomfort. I want to help. You can trust me. I trust you. You’re one of the only friends I have. I’m not new to situations like this. We both know I value speaking openly more than you do. We need to talk about this. Come inside.
