Seeds

For the voice within each of us

INTRODUCTION

This tale takes place on Irfa, a planet closely related to Earth. It is inhabited by human beings that speak the same languages and, in principle, have the same history as Homo sapiens. The physical laws on both planets are congruent. The era is modern, post-industrial, and technologically-advanced.

It is important for the setting to be in a slightly different reality so one doesn’t get entangled with the semantics of preconception. The names of people and places mimic how a toddler would speak; a weak tongue and sluggish lung, heirs of nothing but indifference.

It cannot be derived, yet, if we ever make it past this initial stage of understanding in life's cycle. Regardless of time acquired or the saturation of sensibility kept, individually.

PART A

INCREDULITY

I

The bureaucracy of man has poisoned the Irfa. Not only the mental aptitude of present species, and spirit, but the dirt itself. Gnat is looking over a broad landscape from the peak of the tallest local mountain as the thought passes through his mind like the progeny of a plant, floating on a wind to some unknown destination. Its name is the King of Storms. A long way up with hardly any switchbacks, it has earned this title; not many have succeeded in sitting on this summit. A throne of jagged rock and moss, both living in harmony and disparity concurrently. The clouds are of a cirrus nature. Wisps of ice and water, at such a distance they seem to be only cotton candy. Sharp white, the sky a soft blue, a touch of longing in the shade of it. Across the valley amid the peaks, Lake Kressent. A glacial body formed by maelstrom and the entrapment of water over an unfathomable number of spans. Another double score of shades. Blues, turquoises, and taupes reveal its varying depths. A secret floor unseen. What mysteries does it hide? Things that will never be discovered. Things that will remain long past the expiration date of life. At last, the flicker of a fin seen even from this perch overlooking the wood. Ah, the wood. Pure green amongst coniferous growth strikes inspiration within any onlooker. Trees so old and wise time almost eludes them. The weather can’t permeate their herd, their family. Living in unity with all creatures. The watchmen. The shade and protection for the rest. Absorbing whatever is needed, producing only clarity. They challenge each other for the light. Not in fear. Not in anger. Only in competition. Until out in the distance there is a gap. Then another. Cut to shreds, taken by force, leveled for untold distance. What malicious impetus could have done this?

For the jobs, they say. A man needs a job to have purpose. The economy of the state needs it. Children deserve an education. The poor must be fed. The roads demand to be laid, what will carry men to work? How will we transport lumber? It's our destiny to keep the industry local. It’s us against the outsiders! They’d do the same to us if they could. No need to discuss, of course that’s the answer. Never mind the bird, fox, cat or insect; the lowly animals with no concept of right or wrong, no ideas or opinions in the first place. Forget the cures to ailments that we will never have the chance to find again or an abundance of rich clean air. The future can think about those things. It’s about profit. It’s about the moment. It’s about people.

He's thinking of the generation that came before his parents. An entire age of humans taught how to exist through marketing campaigns. He’s heard the slogans from his grandfather many times. The best thing you can do is pay off your house. What do you do when you love a woman? You buy her a diamond. Why do you drink milk at every meal? For the calcium. To avoid osteoporosis. Didn’t you see the commercial? The facts of life as told by corporations. Gladly accepted for only a few cents. Isn’t it cheap? Yes, it is.

Gnat came to Wishintown in the warm season three spans earlier. A man of twenty-seven, physically, average. Somewhat heavy, but not overweight. A side effect of his affinity for alcohol. Not so much for the fun of it, more to stop his mind from running. To think of only simple things. A round face with round features. Eyes of hazel, sometimes more gray than green depending on whether or not the rain is nearby. Flecks of gold were blown across his irises. A product of the explosions of stars it seems. His long hair has a dark nature bleached by the sun at the tips. Uncut for nearly ten spans, he wears the split ends as if he was a warrior returning from battle, proof of his right to be respected. The slightest of smiles can be seen in his gaze most of the time. A squint in actuality, as if he doesn’t believe that anything seen is real or knows something no one else does. A childhood friend once told him he has an angry resting face. In passing people always tell him he looks too serious. However when he does laugh honestly, on occasion, it’s infectious. A rolling cackle in a higher pitch than it should be by the look of him.

Clothing is about function, not form. Gnat always wears denim jeans, a black t-shirt, and leather boots. Practical. And his brown zip-up hooded sweatshirt. He has done this ever since he left home for the first time so many spans earlier.

There's a purpose in what he wears. A voiding aim or rudimentary statement, perhaps. It's him you meet no matter what the situation. A man naked in the scheme of things, bereft of false pretenses created by a flash of gaudiness.

However he isn't cheap, always spending to make sure everyone is having a favorable time. Gnat pushes people out of their normal level of comfort. This is something constantly questioned. How does he get people to enter into activities they normally wouldn’t? His truly nonjudgmental attitude. Some things he's done in his life, no right is owned to throw a stone. The first, or last. Strangers are comfortable around him. Wherever he goes companions are found. Single-use friends, the staple of his social presence. Meet someone, buy them a drink, go on an adventure and never hear from them again. The initial contact is most important. Never a solitary woman, though. Maybe a few girls or guys his age. Locals. People that feel safe with somebody new entering their bubble. They have someone to reassure them if they doubt what they say or do. Not too much, not too little; the perfect mix of fast and slow. A bit brash, a tiny touch of coyness. Confident yet not completely sure. So many different lives lived. Trying to find common ground with the people he cannot relate to. He enjoys spinning stories to connect with them. Not for the mistruth, it's only a byproduct of an intensely wild imagination and boredom. He's the type to have maybe one or two others close to him at any point. Gnat is not credulous enough to let anybody see him in an unerring sense.

In adolescence his group of friends went into the forest with hallucinogenic mushrooms to find their spirit animals. The real Native Omrikan way. Gnat found a hollow under a group of trees far away by himself. He could no longer hear the sneers of the other teenagers gathered next to the nearby creek. Quietly he waited. The flutters of nauseating euphoria came and went. Up and down, more intensely and quickly as time passed. He glanced at his hands, his totem even then, to calculate the reality he occupied. At the top of this artificial form of transparency Gnat heard a rustle. Slowly his head turned with the creak of neck bones echoing through his brain like ripples on a pond made of gelatin. Thick and penetrating. Powerful. Unable to be ignored. His vision moving in waves, like the static between stations when twisting the dial on a radio. Reaching for coherency.

As his eyes became focused, it was there. Staring back with the same acute curiosity. An owl.

Always watching from afar on some branch, he's still the owl. Not speaking unless he has something important to say, knowing the wisest man listens. No need for glamour, no desire to be the loudest. Although as his grandmother always says, able to be charming when he wants. However, in essence Gnat is melancholy. A perceptible twist of anger, a dash of despondency.

When he was four spans of age, as any other child, he started school. The joy of every university, fresh meat to extort at a later date. As a lion patiently leaves its catch to decompose before eating. The heartbreak of every mother, letting their hatchling flap its wings for the first time. It's unknown how fast they will fall or how far they will fly.

Gnat wore a full suit with suspenders to class, always, a dapper man packed in a miniature space. Extremely shy and unsure of himself, these feelings remained inside him for many grades until he reached adulthood. Although gifted in terms of the educational institution, he felt stupid. When he raised his hand to speak, none of his peers would reply. It was the same in conversation on the playground. Not until he was an adult did he see that his peers did not understand him; his thoughts were over their heads.

In Mrs. Wilumsun’s class they raised caterpillars to become butterflies, when the flowers started to bloom. Each child had their own terrarium complete with twigs for the insects to hang a cocoon from. A tiny water dish, and food resembling something between clay and dust. Basic nutrients, they smelled both moldy and healthy. Gnat wanted something magnificent to crawl out of that shell. Whenever teacher wasn’t looking he would give his companion extra food and water. His bug needed to be stronger than the rest. How else would it reach his goal? After some time the bugs started to construct their cocoons, desolation chambers that sent them toward their combined destinies of metamorphosis. Eventually some of the creatures started to emerge, drying their wings. Such fragile things, if touched they become too heavy to fly. The oils from a finger could drown them, trap them on the ground too slow to defend themselves. Gnat’s bug remained in evolutionary meditation. Only natural if it was to be the biggest. The release was scheduled for the final class of the term. Gnat woke up and put on his tie with only a clip to secure it, suave nonetheless. Running and laughing toward the building, lunchbox swinging, he and the caterpillar made a deal to win. A bonded duo with similar expectations; to soar, to be recognized. Entering the classroom Mrs. Wilumsun threw a smile that expressed tenderness. Around the corner, he saw it. The cocoon laid on the floor of its cage silent and brown. No butterfly. Had it escaped? Flown to glory without him or the others? The sign of a genuine winner.

Mrs. Wilumsun came over and removed the cocoon. Placing it in his hands sharp and knotted, not smooth and natural like he’d imagined. He peeled it open. Inside the caterpillar was dried out like a sponge in the sun. The teacher told him this sometimes happens if the conditions are not right. It wasn’t his fault. But he knew then what he had done. Gnat gave the caterpillar too much care. Too much sustenance. Too many thoughts. After a break the children gathered, tiny plastic habitats in their arms. Except Gnat. Those children that had done exactly what they were told without question were reaping the benefits of something they never earned for themselves. It was freely given so they took it. As the seemingly endless flurry of wings flapped to the sky, he watched. What did he see? This exercise, designed as a first introduction to the grace that is life for young budding minds, taught him about the inverse. Death. That the things you put your energy in never give back. That there is only one outcome.

A chilled wind snaps him to the present. The temperature's dropped and the way back to the housing complex isn’t short. He is always in his head thinking of the expanses of the universe and this world in it, missing the fleeting details of mundane life. The sun is not visible anymore but the saffron fluorescence remains, encompassing one flank of the sky. The clouds are violet and iron. Completely still. Almost frozen in place. On the other flank rests a young moon, born each night innocent and gentle. It will rise high to the pinnacle then age gracefully out of view by morning. An entire life lived on every cycle. A sliver off full, Gnat thinks. This side has the power of a deep, impenetrable sapphire. A few of the brightest stars peek through. Eventide. Where the battle between light and dark is authentic, not figurative. Where does moon begin and sun end? You can’t quite tell, there is a faint pearl line blurred between these opposing forces. What is that area lacking color? The unknown.

Shivers run down his spine. There's a heaviness, a dumbbell in his pelvis. Cords attached to his shoulders and skull tug at him. It hasn't always been present, or this dramatic. He's tried to feel for something material inside, a parasite or colony of bacteria. However there are no physical symptoms, it’s psychological, and separate from other mental instabilities. There must be an antidote.

Gnat turns toward the forest. It's too dark to see the details of the ground. He must find the path quickly. There are cougars prowling. A purist of sorts, a light is never carried. He doesn’t need it; his own wit and willpower suffice. He likes hiking, but not in the sense that others do. If it’s on a trail that is maintained, that’s fairly straightforward to define. Walking. When a toddler can skip the track alongside a parent, it isn't a challenge. Gnat always gets a laugh out of the tourists with tailored clothing, poles, water reservoirs, hats, and sunglasses coming out to traverse a perfectly flat circular trail. Everyone is trying to fit into groups, just walk if that’s what you feel like doing. He is more about picking a peak and making a way to it through the bush.

The housing complex is a small community that boards employees in the national park. His is a single unit, as a manager he doesn’t have to share. This park’s name is Orrinpic. Over the last five spans he's worked in many parks. Lifeless Plain, in the desert of Southern Sanrika. The Sirra Niva mountain range. Sisia Key, in F’lalasip on the gulf of Southern Omrika. Kanoi Outpost, on the boundary between his home state, Oia, Zeon, and Montisa. Sometimes doing maintenance, sometimes cooking, or serving food. Whatever comes onto this drifter’s horizon. Last season he got into management. It turns out he is rather efficient with budgets and handling staff. There is a property on the beach of Lake Kressent, Rusty Ranch, that he's spending his first contract running. Now Gnat is close enough to hear the workers having a time, unclear whether it’s a fun one or not. A horde of people with no goals to achieve, so they perpetually stay inebriated. Some on normal, legal drugs, some not.

There is a girl waiting for him in his room. Addie. They met the first time he came to the west coast. She is younger, nineteen, but not in temperament. Her route in life has shown Addie a vast deal. She sees things that many people Gnat’s age and older have never even thought of. Addie is half Omrikan, half South Omrikan. Soft features and light skin, with the faintest of olive tints. Sporadic brown freckles grace her nose like the spots of a fawn, showing that she’s not yet done becoming what she is. Slim figure, still shapely like a woman. Also, the features Gnat finds more attractive than any others. Somber eyes, large and thundering, with the ability to peer straight to the truth of you. Those who look are helpless under their gaze. Thick, sable hair flows to her hips. A gentle touch, she is skeptical of her power as a woman. Addie has a soothing voice, a sharp giggle, and nothing to give but the whole of her person. Innocent with opened eyes, a dangerous combination.

They haven’t been together consistently since they met, only when they find themselves in the same places. Gnat and Addie are both broken by opposing circumstances on different levels. Trying to fix each other, secretly from both sides, isn't working. There's another issue, Addie is traveling with her mother, Tia. She is still beautiful, but the pain and partying of the last twenty spans has jaded what she once was physically. Addie’s father left them to fend for themselves when she was still an infant. Tia does whatever she has to, with whoever is willing, to make sure that they have what they need. As her prowess fades, so does the quality of the man. Seducing someone had once been easy, not any longer. What was once necessity is now desperation for attention, to the point where Tia will deny Addie to please any new suitor. Not in a conscious, malicious fashion, but in a hope to complete herself. Currently, she fills herself up with cheap drugs and empty sex. She lets Addie pay for it. It gets in the way, Gnat feels like he is dating both women.

Moreover, Gnat is Gnat. Unable to commit to brushing his teeth. Truly phobic of giving out a real piece of himself no matter how hard anyone else tries to convince him. He imagines the first time he spoke to her, under a bridge by a river in Orrinpic. It was so pure, yet I am weak. I’ve done nothing but destroy. Unable to admit my feelings for her even to myself.

Gnat is lost in his totem, his hands. They are dry, steadfast. Addie is laying on his bed casually, holding her head up with an arm, flipping the pages of a magazine with the other. It’s a copy of Outcry, an independent alternative news magazine run by the kooky neo-leftists on the coast of Sanrika where she grew up.

Addie looks at him, wounded, What are you doing?

I have no idea, Gnat answers with a grin. She makes him do this a lot. Went up the mountain, nothing special.

She returns to the page. I’ve been here since my shift ended, you could have hung out with me. Juun and Libeth are looking for you. Are you going to go with them? They both know what it means if he says he is. He'll go to the bar, and she isn’t old enough to get in.

Yeah, I think I’m going to. Told them I would, anyway. It’s Karaoke night, we do it every time, he states. There’s always an excuse to drink, to make it seem like it’s for some social obligation.

So I’m not staying here?

Addie, you have a key. You can come and go as you please. Don’t start with this again. I won't be late; I have to work in the morning.

She stands up, putting her arms around the top of his stomach, her face sideways against his chest.

You know that I love you? she asks. It is apparent that she can’t tell if he does or not. Or maybe you don’t want my love, she thinks.

Yes, I do know it, Gnat says straight into her eyes. I know that you believe you do. She lets go, picking up her (chemical-free) handbag, and steps into the doorway.

Tia and I can watch a movie. I’ll call you tomorrow. Now she's smiling, You look good.

He replies, You are beautiful every instant.

She leaves and he misses her a bit already. Not that he'd ever tell her or anyone else.

He doesn't need anything to hit the road, he keeps everything in the same pockets so he can tell immediately if something is missing. His truck is outside, he's been living in and out of it, this prized possession. Omrikan made, four-door, four-wheel drive. A thumping multi-cylinder engine heedlessly burning the remains of creatures long forgotten. Everything the same tones, the only ones he likes on any vehicle, black and chrome. Gnat pulled the rear seat out and replaced it with a battery bank, dry food storage, and a small refrigerator. In the bed, a wooden divider his dad helped him make. On the roof, seven hundred and fifty watt solar panels to power the batteries and keep the chiller going. Many people have camper vans; this is his stealth camper. He parks on streets with expensive sunsets, sleeps, and leaves before anyone realizes.

The truck fires up without hesitation. The bar, First Street Rendezvous, is a long drive past Lake Kressent through the temperate rainforest. It's his favorite place in Wishintown to water himself. He doesn’t like clubs or busy places, only secluded rooms with a few other folks keeping to themselves. The bar is situated in a town of about eighteen thousand inhabitants, Port Albany, the nearest settlement to Orrinpic Park. An unhurried town filled mostly with family businesses. You can see Montisa in the clearest of skies by the water. This is a working place, mostly loggers and fisherman, the top industries in this part of the world. The third biggest is seasonal hospitality such as Gnat is doing. No one travels to the upper left coast during off-season, it’s too gray and rainy. Which makes it very lonely out here with hardly any reception and only a single road in or out. The fourth biggest industry is drugs. They’ve taken the dreams and ambitions of many, and at night the streets sometimes resemble a movie about an invasion of the undead.

Juun is the first person Gnat learned to trust here. Five spans a senior to Gnat and on the seasonal job circuit for quite a long time. He's from Sanrika, like Addie, but a much bigger city. Tall and skinny, short brown hair. One of his front teeth rests somewhat over the other. He grew up in action sports and has the stereotypical energy that goes with it. Always ready to go, always ready to party through the night. Juun has never had ambitions of moving up in the world, he accepts things as they come. He and Gnat bonded over two hobbies in the very beginning, drinking and motorcycles. It doesn’t help that they are both the belligerent type when they drink too much. Anything goes.

Some time after they met, a girl showed up to work with them. Red hair, blue eyes, too skinny, too loud, completely uncertain of everything. Sincerely, everything: persons, places, opinions, emotions. A city girl, some would say. She smokes like a chimney and can match both Gnat and Juun round after round.

Naturally they became a trinity of disarray. For three seasons it's been like this. She grew up in Wishintown, came to the coast to see what was in the park, and hasn't gone inland since. Her name is Libeth, she's twenty-two. She and Juun started dating within a cycle of meeting. Well, sleeping together. The exclusivity came later on. Passersby always think that Gnat and Libeth are a couple and Juun is the third wheel. Over time Gnat has noticed this creating a rift between them. Understandable, however they've never spoken about it. It's only a secret feeling of Gnat's. He has no interest in Libeth; she's been in his bed many times to talk or watch a movie and nothing’s ever happened. Gnat and Libeth are more extroverted in public than Juun, especially when they are drinking. Juun is very quiet, not able to approach new people easily. Which isn’t a negative thing, he just doesn’t react amicably in social situations.

Gnat glides into the parking space and sees himself in the rear-view mirror, another night to regret. Heading to the pub, he sees Juun and Libeth on the other side of the street.

Ready for Karaoke? calls Juun.

Libeth says before Gnat can answer, I know what songs I’m going to do. Will you sing a duet with me? Or all three of us can sing together. I’m so ready for this! I’ve waited on so many nasty people…

Gnat shrugs, uncaring, Anything works. I need liquor. First round is on me, he hollers. The contrasting pair crosses to his side of the street. Libeth hugs him and Juun messes up his hair.

Let’s get rowdy, Juun says with his boyish gleam.

Gnat has already forgotten the doubts he had when he parked the truck. Forget the cost, let’s have a good time and be stupid with each other.

I’m down. You up for some pool? Maybe we can make some cash, depending on who’s here.

If you think we can win, we’ll win, says Juun.

I’ll be your cheerleader when I’m not singing, anyway, says Libeth.

Quite a few people. He counts thirteen. An older woman singing on stage, her sweetie for the night watching intently. Four loggers, you can tell by the grime on their shirts along with the light dusting of wood chips on their shoulders and hair. Three local girls drinking water, faces heavy with acne and wrinkles courtesy of their primary habit. At the pool tables, two guys probably passing through to see the park and get away from the city. Perfect targets. These are the guys with money. Finally, a bartender and a cook that have just clocked out, winding down, getting ready to do it again tomorrow.

The girl still working the bar knows them, and they know her, neither side by name. Strange, after three spans they’ve never ever even asked.

The usual? she asks.

Three shots, neat. Three brews on tap, Gnat answers, You remember.

He knows if he buys the favor will be returned. A great thing about this trio, they always keep it square. Juun will buy the second, then Libeth, and so on. Unlike his school friends in Oia, who expected him to drive, pay, and introduce them to girls. He doesn’t miss that. They touch glasses, taking the whole shot, empties neatly stacked on the bar. Being a part of the same industry, they’re not going to leave a mess for other restaurant workers to clean up. An unspoken rule.

There are some stools open, down near the pool tables. Gnat raises his eyebrows to Juun, tilting his head toward them.

After you, Juun says and follows.

I’m going to sign up for karaoke and go have a smoke, Libeth chimes cheerfully. Gnat, are you going to sing tonight? I know Juun will.

Of course I am! That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? says Gnat. We’ll see if we can drink for free for a little while.

Libeth teases as she glides away, Okay, then. Don’t get in any fights, Juun. Promise me? Gnat, you make sure of it.

You’re giving me the responsibility? Are you sure that’s the best idea? Gnat cackles.

As long as it’s not mine, it’s my night off work. And girlfriend duties, I’m not taking care of him while we are here.

Fair enough. He and Juun are watching the game on television as they sip their pints. It’s nice to not have reception or the distraction of screens in the park. It’s also nice to have a few rounds, and be a vegetable. Juun reminds Gnat of a father in some way. Not the relationship between them, just his physical appearance. He’s clean shaven. He always wears khakis. The slight crow’s talons on his face, Juun is a smoker too. Gnat has a drag on occasion, but hasn’t purchased his own pack in some time. Maybe Juun is just mellow. Yes, that’s what it is. Like the dad in the mall with his child constantly pulling on him, asking questions. After a while, he isn’t annoyed. He doesn’t yell. It is what it is, until it’s not any longer.

You know, we both miss you at the main lodge since you went across the lake to Rusty. It’s not the same… It was great with us serving and you running the line in the kitchen. Now it’s some ruffian from Nuwal, fresh out of culinary school with no experience. I know you had to take the promotion, who wouldn’t? Still, I wish it could be that way again, Juun is trying to be nonchalant but obviously misses working with his friend.

Gnat replies, Do you want to come to my side? You know I can get you transferred, perk of the job. I’d do it right now if you want. Both of you. I’ll give us the same schedule.

What’s the money like over there? Juun asks, glancing over at him.

Half what you’re making at the main lodge.

He smirks, Can’t do it. You know that.

Smiling, Gnat answers, Yes.

That moment has passed, that crew and those schedules are memories now.

Should we try our luck on teams? Gnat asks, changing the subject.

They’ll go for it. I’ll get us another round and meet you. I’m going to have a cigarette first. You go do the talking, you’re better at it than me. I’ll guarantee you three a game, Juun answers.

Gnat confirms, Deal.

He approaches the men, they are obviously from a rich urban area, probably in their forties. One is wearing a fake tan. Gnat knows because he has sunglasses on his head and no tan line from the outside corner of his eye to the top of his ear. The other has a sweater tied around his shoulders, like a fraternity brother at an event.

You want to play doubles against me and my friend, mix it up a little? We had a night off, drove down from Orrinpic. Both of us are out of practice, it’s been a while. Up for letting us try to win the table?

That sounds alright. Neither of us is a crack shot, but we can hold our own. We’re up for some fun, says the man with the tan.

Want to make it interesting? Loser buys a round.

Sure thing, says the fraternity brother.

As Gnat turns around, Juun is there, We’re playing for a drink.

I skipped the cig. Is that all? He turns to the men. Are you sure you guys aren’t drinking wine?

Juun laughs, not in a completely cordial way either. They introduce themselves as Beb and Hink. They're up from Nan Friko, the tan man tells them. A big city with lots of funding for technology start-ups. An entire valley fueled by speculation, backed by nothing but the subjective value people give it.

The balls are racked, they give Gnat and Juun the break. As Gnat crouches over, lining up his shot, he says to Juun in a placid voice, You promised me three.

He hits the cue ball hard, straight, snapping back after impact. Six of the solids and stripes come back onto his side. One of each type goes into a pocket, open table. Perfect.

During Gnat's teenage life in Oia, there wasn’t a whole lot to do. His neighborhood, Fennytun, is a township of about five thousand enveloped by what is called the grain belt. A place between open farmland and a city full of racial tension. That city, Nata, has a lot of historical significance in the slave trade of the past. Nata was the boundary line between the north and the south of Omrika. The south used slaves, the north didn't. If a slave escaped and made it to Nata, it meant they were free. The hate and energy from hundreds of spans ago still resonate on those streets.

Gnat spent his childhood half as a city-boy, the rest a country-boy. Fishing, camping, bonfires, cliff jumping. On the flipside street smarts, believing nothing, and keeping his mouth shut. There are a pair of bars in the town, more of a pothole than a town, the only place important to Gnat is The Tapped Rune. Although it’s not legal to drink in Omrika until you are twenty-one, he started going in at seventeen. The Rune is a horseshoe bar that sits twelve at most, bartender included. It's a regulars’ bar, the same people are there all the time, including the owner, Kili. Gnat has different bonds with everyone.

In the beginning, he would watch Ri shoot pool. Gnat never played; no friends he knew had a table coming up. Ri would beat anyone, for any amount of money. He never saw Ri lose or take more than three turns to finish the game. Ri was a crotchety old man in his late sixties. Not married, never was, although he had a son. He drank something called a six and six, after playing Gnat would buy him a glass and talk to him. Ri had an interesting life. A mid-level drug dealer in his twenties and thirties with his own truck stop on the freeway for distribution. When he wasn’t traveling across the country, he was in jail. He’d spent a third of his adult life behind bars. At some point he was a professional pool player. Then in his twilight, he was unable to play either game anymore. Kili told Gnat once that Ri had been coming in for more than twenty spans. After cycles of talking to Ri, Gnat finally asked him to teach him the game.

A laugh, mixed with a smoker's cough, Ah, you’re too old, it’s too late for you. My eyesight is going, I won’t be playing but a few more spans myself. Not going to waste it showing you when I already know you’ll never be any good.

Oh, alright, answered Gnat, a touch of sadness. I thought we were kind of friends, I guess not. They kept drinking together that night and many others. Sometimes Gnat would shoot a game alone, or with a stranger. He never asked Ri again, only played for fun. Until a night, long after he’d asked Ri to be his teacher, he was about to take a shot on the eight ball.

From the bar he heard Ri, Hold it, hold it. Damn you. You’re holding the stick wrong. I can’t stand watching you play like this anymore.

Then, Ri taught. Gnat listened. He became a great shooter. No one else could beat him, except Ri of course. He made a decent amount of money, and started traveling away from home to do it. Never anything official, just in pool halls and bars he passed through in small towns. Sometimes he lost, not very often. When Gnat was twenty-four he went through Fennytun, and stopped in The Rune. Ri