Chronicles of Chiron: Pruning the Garden | Scene 4

Marina calls after me, but I ignore her, concentrating instead on following the narrow trail that twines through the overgrown (or rather, naturally unmaintained) section of the park. The path is indeed lined with many branches and vines that could be fun to treat as an obstacle course, but I simply run. After a while, movement up on the level above catches my eye. Apparently Jack has heard that I was looking for him, and he is enjoying swinging through the canopy. My attention lingers on him a moment too long, and a vine along the ground snags my right foot, sending a jolt of pain up my leg. I end up in an undignified heap on the ground.

With eyes tightly shut and teeth clenched, I try to both catch my breath and deal with the spike of pain in my shin and ankle. I roll over and crack my eyes open. The first thing I see is a pair of sneakers. “Hey, there. You took a nasty tumble. Are you okay?” Jack asks as I push myself up to sitting. “Gotta watch out for those vines. They change all the time.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re less likely to trip over them up where you were,” I reply, once I’m confident I can speak without gasping.

“That’s one of the reasons I stay up there. Also, it’s way more fun.” Jack shuffles a bit, clearly unable to stand still. “I heard you were looking for me.”

“I was,” I acknowledge with a friendly smile, looking up at him.

“Well I’m here.”

I hold up my right hand for him to help pull me to my feet. When I put my weight on my right leg, there’s another stab of pain. I reach out with my left hand, catching hold of a nearby shroom tree. Jack switches his grip to my bicep, steadying me. Okay, no more running today. “I was looking to have a chat with you,” I tell Jack. “I’m new in town, and I’ve heard that you have your fingers in a lot of different pots. I was hoping to get your insight on a few things about this whole Stepdaughters place.”

“This whole Stepdaughters place,” he echoes with a chuckle, throwing air quotes around the phrase. “Yeah, I’ve been around. I used to be a ranger. I briefly lent my skills to government service.” Ah, that would explain Jack’s casual attitude toward the council building. “And, you know, I’m seeing what the Cult of Chiron is about.” Almost as an afterthought, he adds, “I don’t think fishing is for me.”

“These are all topics of great interest to me,” I say.

“Really? ‘Cause there are people who know all those things a lot better than I do.”

“But there’s value in getting one person’s perspective on all that,” I tell Jack. “If I talk to somebody like Xiao who is all in for the mariners, I will only hear about the mariners and only their positive sides.”

“Yeah, he gets kind of boring,” Jack says. “Have you ever seen the inside of his office and all of the diagrams and lists he’s got?”

Watching Jack closely, I continue, “Or if I talk to Sal about the cult, I’m only going to hear about the power of Chiron.” The name does not trigger any sort of reaction. Jack’s too distracted by me—that is, by the slight glow lingering in my eyes.

He gives a swift shake of his head. “I’m sorry, what was your question? Can you just make your eyes do that?”

This was a brief loss of control, probably tied to that tumble, but I tell him, “Yes. Yes, I can make my eyes do that.” I concentrate to flare them more fully and intentionally this time.

“Whoa! Is that just a thing you can learn to do?”

“No,” I say, a long breath coming out in a bit of a huff. “No, it’s not a thing you can just learn.” My life would be a lot easier if it were. Then I could just teach people how to interact with resonance fields and tolerate miasma, and I wouldn’t have to be wired up to monitors and have people studying every conceivable fluid from my body.

“Huh, bummer.”

“It’s a result of natural processes that take a long time to manifest.”

“Like… miasmic processes?” Jack asks. “Or like Progenitor processes?”

“Yeah, miasmic processes. Wait, do you know stuff about Progenitor things, too?” Jack really does have a broad experience base.

“I’ve been around,” he says carelessly.

“You are the person to talk to,” I tell him.

He shrugs. “I pay attention sometimes.”

“Is there coffee in the Garden of Chiron?” I ask.

“Yeah?” he replies, confused by the seeming non sequitur. “There’s a cafe in town—okay, it’s not exactly Earth coffee, since we finished off the rations from the ship years ago and apparently we’re not planting new coffee. But there’s some kind of bean that people ferment, roast, and make drinks out of. Does that count as coffee?”

“Sure. Would you like to get a drink?” And then, so that he doesn’t think this is a date—which it is not, just like having lunch out with Marina was not a date—I add, “I’d like to pick your brain about some of these things that you’ve mentioned.”

“Ah, I dunno,” Jack says with a shrug, sounding disinterested. “I’m kinda doing stuff. I could walk and talk,” he offers. He glances up at the branches overhead, clearly wanting to get back at his game. “Well, you can walk—Can you walk right now?”

If it’s the only way I can get information from you, yes, yes I can. I’m not thrilled with this outcome, but I will deal with the pain to get the answers I’m looking for. “Sure,” I say brightly, not missing a beat, and I take my hand off the tree, standing apparently comfortably on my own two feet. For his part, Jack leaps up, grabbing a branch and swinging his legs up to catch the next one.