Week 12

September 22

Everything hurts. My head, my feet, my hips, and especially my heart. My husband ruled against me today -- he ruled against Danae, I mean. How could he do that? He kissed me goodnight last night, and today he lets my business fold? What is the matter with him? Actually, he gave me ninety days to get my business back on my feet. He had the foreclosure delayed or the same ninety days. But there’s no way -- even Danae was not business-minded enough to actually run the place. She was the artist, her husband the entrepreneur.

Jea was in court this morning. She knows about Danae’s case. I minored in business, maybe I can figure out how to get the business aspect under control, and Samson can be the new designer. Of course, I only minored in business because Ancient French Poetry was not an option, and I have no idea if Samson has any talent at all -- let alone how to spot let alone cultivate said talent. I’ll talk to Jea first thing in the morning, and have her send Samson to Danae’s business for a job. I’ll go in tomorrow and look at the books and see what’s going on there. I do actually have a head for numbers -- I think all of that interest in poetry was just to annoy my parents.

Todd and Zahina did not hit it off the way I had hoped. I sent her out to the garden to play while our case was being heard before the king and his absent wife. (My husband, by the way, said that he may have been more sympathetic to Danae’s case if he’d gotten my input. Bastard.) Apparently, while she was there, she thought that servants in palaces were to be bossed around, and tried it with Todd. Todd set her straight, right quick, and now she hates him and he hates her. It’s a shame, really. I have so much affection for each of them, and I had hoped that they’d be friends.

I went to the local pub tonight to see if my husband could look Danae in the eye, but he had more dignitaries come in from out-of-town unexpectedly. Once again, it was up to his faithful, yet invisible (I’ve still yet to see the man in court.) friend keep me company. Hon is about six feet tall, and has more Winter in him than Summer. Though he has the Summer bulk of a farmer, he has eyes as like an ice-encased mailbox and the warm Summer smile to belie the coldness in his eyes. 

He asked after my mother and my daughter, and then he asked me out on a date! He wanted to take me for a walk through the piazza a week from today. I was flabbergasted, but since I don’t want my husband to think Danae is falling for him and therefore dating him exclusively, and also since I was peeved that he didn’t take my -- *ahem* Danae’s side in the court hearing, I said yes.  I don’t know what I’m going to talk to him about -- but I’d better get some anecdotes collected before then because Hon is the strong, silent type. His bulk mixed with his quietness, makes me a bit nervous, so I end up babbling, and I don’t want to end up babbling the wrong thing. 

He’s an extremely mysterious man -- I wonder if he uses his size and silence to intimidate people into talking. It certainly works on me, and I’m not a naturally chatty person. Anyway, I’m kind of looking forward to it. I’ll be able to practice more of my Summer wiles on someone other than my husband. Just flirting, of course. Hon is an attractive man, but I’m not drawn to him sexually. 

My scrawny husband on the other hand -- for some reason, when I get near him, something in me tenses and relaxes at the same time. Or maybe it’s that parts of me tense and other parts react, but it creates an odd and unsettling sensation. Not bad, just -- odd. And I don’t like that I have no control over it. It’s just that parts of me go gooey, and other parts stiffen up. I can tell that he can tell, too, and he is not a modest man to being with. Farmer Bohn, being of a much more wholesome persona, does not usually smirk, but my husband can’t help himself. It’s infuriating enough for me to want to learn the wiles of women, just to turn the tables on him. If he were naturally attracted to me, it might be easier, but he seems nearly indifferent to me in either persona. Why he wants to spend so much time with Danae is still a mystery to me, but I doubt that it’s because of MY scintillating personality. Danae is quite a bit more boring than I am.

So, tomorrow I’ll talk to Jea, and suggest that she send Samson to Danae’s workplace. I’ll go reclaim Danae’s office and then I’ll pick Zahina up from school and take her to the zoo. Then I’ll go visit my cave. I haven’t been there since Danae died, but something about it draws me there. I miss it. I wish such a horrific event hadn’t happened there, but the entire vibe was one of such peace. I want to reclaim it, as much as I want to reclaim Danae’s office for her. And it’s stupid, because I’m not particularly spiritual -- but I keep getting the feeling that I’ll meet Danae there. That she’s there, waiting for me, waiting to give me advice on being her.

Sometimes I want to kill my own persona and take on hers. Then I’d get a mother, a daughter, a farmer love interest -- and absolutely no politics whatsoever. Aside from her experience with Todd, Zahina was absolutely enchanted with the palace and can’t believe that her sorta-aunt is really a queen. I almost long for the days when I romanticized the idea of being royalty.

September 23

This morning, Todd told me about the girl he met yesterday. He called her a “brat”. It hurt my heart to hear it, and I was a little bit discouraged. Todd meets a lot of people, and the fact that Zahina has stayed in his memory as such a negative figure does not bode well for future meetings. I hope that he forgets her soon so that when they meet again, they will have a chance to start over new and like each other. Todd is a tough young man, and Zahina has a natural exuberance (tempered though it is by grief at the moment) that I think they would and could be a great benefit for each other. Neither is frivolous; both having been tempered by a loss of innocence to some degree, but they each have a strong, clean spirit that I would like to see fostered.

Thinking of them as children in need of guidance (when it wasn’t so long ago that I would have considered their ages of a peerage) makes me feel older, almost like an adult. Especially since I have almost taken on the role of Zahina’s mother. Not that I every bone in me screams at my conceit for even thinking such a thing. I know that I can not be Danae, or even close to her quality as a mother, but I know that there is no other person who can fill that role for her. Between me and Eliava, I think we have a chance at teaching her the things she needs to know as a human, and as a woman, but there is still such a huge gap that Danae herself leaves in that particular area.

I know that my own mother has so many unique attributes and peculiarities to her personality which have affected her mothering of me. It’s those things that Zahina is gong to miss, Danae being gone. I can teach her how to shoot a bow, and Eliava can teach her how to sew, and we can each add our own peculiarities to Zahina’s upbringing, but we can not bring her mother’s unique touch to the table. It’s a humbling and confusing mission that I have taken on – perhaps more so than anything I have done here so far, including the idea of bearing a child. A child with me, and only me, as its mother is never going to feel the same chasm that Zahina will have with the absence of one mother and the bridge built by two caregivers.

As for my date with the honorable Hon, I actually had a fun time with him. He took me to this giant technological wonder called a “mall”. The original malls were sets of shops and arcades, all in one building, and the idea has been improved upon until the isle of consumerism is just one amusement park of stores and restaurants, movie theatres. It is a Mecca of everything anyone would want at any given time. It’s bright and colorful and at night it’s all lit up. Everything is bigger and louder than the last thing you saw, and everything costs about twenty times more than it would outside of the mall. It was fantastic. 

In Winter, even in the big city, we have a Main Street, where all of the shops are generic. Shoes, food, clothing, hair styling, etc. Here, there are twelve places where you can buy the same T-shirt, and at every place, the same shirt is more expensive than the last place you looked. Even if you start at one store, and work your way through a dozen, if you end up at the same store, the price you first saw is more expensive than the twelfth! Hon calls it the “baker’s dozen” special. The prices are fluid, he says, based on some electronic calculation called the NasDaq. He took me to a restaurant, and the bill is on an electronic plate on which the numbers go up and down based on how many customers are in the place, and how much each customer orders. It’s completely amazing. Hon has all of the prices down, and he actually got us the best prices of the day, everywhere we went.

Some men, especially in Winter, will go a thousand miles and pay a thousand more dollars for something that they could get at home. It’s supposed to impress the ladies, but it has always seemed to me such a waste. I was incredibly impressed with Hon’s thriftiness, especially since he was so smooth that he could do it without seeming to make much of an effort. It made me want to show him Danae’s accounts – to see if he could make any sense of them.

I went in today, as planned, but everything was electronic. I couldn’t even access some of the things I would have needed to get a good picture of. Fortunately, Danae was not technical either, aside from the way that she drew and presented her designs, so the associate working there was very patient and kind. Leah Laporte is her name, though she goes by Carrot, and apparently she has helped Danae try to look at the accounts before, and was kind enough to show me, step by step, exactly how to find what I needed. Her name sounds vaguely familiar, but I’m not placing it right now, and I can’t figure out where I would have heard it -- maybe Danae mentioned her.

Not only was I extremely dizzy and confused by the time I got a picture of what is going on at Danae’s company – I became extremely depressed once I deciphered what it meant. No wonder her partner wants her out. Man, I thought the woman must have been a mercenary to take advantage of Danae this way, but I can’t say as I blame her. The entire company has slid downhill since Danae’s husband died. Apparently, she was the sole designer, and she was prolific. Unfortunately, the entire business was build around the idea that Danae would be able to design so much for so long and when Danae went into her grieving depression. The partner has been unable to find anyone to match Danae’s brilliance and output, and has hired three inferior designers to a bad result. Very bad.

I spoke to Jea this morning, but I didn’t need to tell her about Danae’s company; she was in court yesterday, and she told me that she was going to send Samson over there to apply for a job. She figured that Danae must be desperate at this point, and that it was likely that she would hire him despite his reputation, based on his brilliant designs. “I won’t need your help if he gets the job,” she said, “but thank you for agreeing to try.” I got the distinct impression that she regretted revealing her condition to me (a regret that being Winterian in a vulnerable position, I can completely understand and not resent at all) since I wasn’t actually able to help. Little does she know. It doesn’t matter if Samson can’t draw anything but toy houses with a sky overhead that doesn’t reach the ground – I’ll hire him. 

September 24

This morning, I went into Danae’s work, to try to get a handle on her books again. Carrot Laporte showed me how to use the electronics in order to access the files again. She complimented me on having a better handle on it than I did yesterday. I remembered a few things from yesterday, so it was a bit easier today, and I think the problem is just the fact that Danae has been idle for the past two years. The business was doing well enough to keep up the payroll until about six months ago. Everything still looks in good shape, so all we really need at this point, is an architect.

The two problems with that, are a) the fact that Danae was not only prolific, she was in credibly talented -- so whoever we get to replace her will have to be just as talented, and b) the company’s reputation is damaged in that Danae did not see through some of her final projects, and some of the contractors have lost respect for and trust in her. Also, she’s been out of the public eye for two years, which means she has been basically forgotten. She’s not in demand.

I told Carrot that I won’t be designing anymore -- that I’ll basically take over the business aspect. She was very polite about it, but promised to stay on in case I needed some help. I think she was hoping for a promotion. She has basically been running the place for two years, but she can’t be that great, because it has just come to a standstill. Still, she’s a good receptionist, and she set up some appointments for possible architects over the next few days. 

She has basically fired everyone non-essential to the team, and has set the business up to be built around one, or possibly two, unknown but talented architects who will work for peanuts in order to make a name for themselves. Danae’s name still carries some weight in the architecture world, and Carrot says that she has more than fifty applicants already. I interviewed the first ten today. Samson wasn’t one of them, but he’s on the list for tomorrow.

It’s pretty bleak. Maybe it’s just the slower, softer way that Summerians have of presenting themselves, but there was a serious lack of intensity and, unfortunately, talent on display today. I did set two people up for follow-up appointments. They had probably the most talent I’d seen all day, but the male had a stutter and the woman giggled way too much. I would have said “no” if I didn’t realize that talent speaks louder than first impressions at this point. Besides, I’ve been told (by Eliava and Adora) that even in my Danae disguise I tend to present somewhat of an intimidating figure so it‘s possible that neither of them is dimwitted and entirely possible that they were both nervous. 

I can’t help but snicker at that one. If they think I’m scary, they would run at the sight of Ceci, or even Mother if she’s in the right frame of mind. She’s still in Summerian mode, though. I guess she missed Summerian way of life and dress more than she thought because she seems to have difficulty maintaining any vestiges of her twenty-plus years of living in Winter. Her voice is soft and low, and she stands hips and shoulder forward. It’s too odd.

Jea is as neutral as ever. I made it home from Danae’s office in time for the beginning of court. There’s not even a twitch of the eyelash in my direction or Samson’s. And she doesn’t avoid making eye contact, so it’s not obvious that way either. I try to avoid looking at her too, but Samson makes his rounds, flirting with every woman equally, including Jea. I watch, to see if there’s even a hint of anything -- more -- about their interaction, but there just isn’t. It must be my lack of experience with this kind of thing. Maybe I’d have more of an eye if I knew what to look for. But I can’t look too hard, or people will notice me watching them, and I’ll have been the one to give it away.

Zahina is still buzzed from her visit to the castle, and still talking about the obnoxious garden boy, Todd. Hopefully she’ll forget about him before she sees him again, but the odds are not good. She’s unlikely to forget anything about her first visit to a real castle, especially not an interaction that was intense enough to create this reaction.

I didn’t have a date with Hon today, so much as a run-in. We were both at the pub and my husband was still entertaining guests, so we had a beer together. He asked me out for tomorrow, and when I hesitated, he offered to show me a unique sight that even most Summerians don’t know about. How could I resist? There probably isn’t a person in Summer who doesn’t know about malls, especially the one we went to -- so my curiosity was piqued. Hon is a nice, smart, funny guy who treats me like an emotional and mental equal, yet I am very aware of my femininity when I am around him. I’m not the least bit attracted to him, but I would probably have to fight in order to maintain my indifference. He does put off a certain amount of intense energy, but it’s an energy that makes me feel safe, rather than overwhelmed.

And I can actually talk to him. Even when I’m on a date with my husband as Danae, it’s hard for me to relax because the sexual attraction I have toward him is not conducive to coherent thought. So I’m stiff and uptight, only the Summer version, and I’m sure he thinks I’m not the least bit interest. I don’t know why he keeps asking me out. Perhaps I pose a challenge, or maybe he just feels safe perpetuating his farmer persona by dating someone who is not interested. I feel bad to think of exploiting Danae, but I am really glad that I can blame my widowhood on my lack of -- sparkle. Because one thing that Summer girls have in large supply, it’s sparkle. I have it with Hon, but I don’t have it with my husband.

September 25

Tonight I had my second date with Hon. He is so much fun! He took me to a library, like a seriously old, practically-falling-down building, with real books, and old ones. I mean, some of these books are thousands of years old. I just picked one up called “Devil’s Cub” by a woman named Georgette Heyer. Back in the olden, olden days, women were considered inferior to men in every way, and were hidden in their homes and not allowed to go out and work or socialize and they were all uneducated. And in these days, this Georgette woman wrote about women who were from an even more archaic time, but the women in her books were all lively of spirit and intelligence, and tended to get what they wanted, not by coquettishness and such, but through determination and personality. At least, this is how the librarian, a matronly gentleman with a paunch and beautifully silvering hair, described her.

The books are preserved in a clear solution that allows me to read them without them falling apart, but they were preserved in the condition in which they were found, so this one is all paper, including the cover. It’s small enough to read easily with one hand, and I just love it so far. The language is as archaic as the idea that women have to be married in order to be whole, but I was a history major, so I find the reading easier than I would otherwise. Besides which, I’m reading something interesting, rather than dusty, boring, inaccurate text books.

I’m so accustomed to books all looking like the one electronic device you read it off of, that to be able to hold this thing open and move my eyes down the page, and then to the next page. It’s a pretty novel experience. I had to get a card that can only be used in this library. Of course, all of these texts are available electronically, but to hold a book in my hands – the way our ancestors used to murder trees is abominable, but there is something to the weighty look of words that don’t move as you read them. There is a large fine if I do not return the book. The card itself was a thousand dollars, but it’s supposed to last me a lifetime, and I can make payments of ten dollars a month. If I don’t return the book it will cost me ten thousand dollars, because these books are so rare that the value is incredibly high. Fortunately, I don’t have to worry about damaging the book, because it is quite indestructible, but I have to be careful not to lose it.

Hon said that most people would not have appreciated visiting the library the way I did, but that he took a chance in taking me there. I imagine the hurt I would feel if I presented this exquisite museum to human ingenuity and the only response I receive was a shrug and a “can’t I get this for twenty bucks online?” So I was really glad that he took me there. The building itself is old Summerian architecture with lots of crumbling stone arches and cracked stained glass. The librarians said that they’ve had the building preserved but not restored, since there is something so charming about the way that buildings used to age. So it’s quite safe to be inside, but it feels like it can tumble around you at any minute. It’s a fantastic feeling.

In Winter, the walls are all made of ice but there is no real danger of them melting or cracking because of the lamination. But there, even the dust smells intelligent, and there are old, stuffed chairs that are not the least bit ergonomic, but are so soft and comfortable nevertheless. They are huge, too, which are unlike the barely-get-your-but-in-it chairs that you have at most libraries, the ones that form to your body so that you can sit without getting tired. Still, there’s something about the fabric and the size of these chairs that make you feel like you’re being embraced. And to be embraced whilst reading a good book – I can not imagine a better feeling. And there’s a real smell to the place too. It smells like musty masses of people, like a bus or a train, but people from towns where people bathe daily and wear expensive but not overpowering perfume. 

Anyway, I loved it and afterwards, Hon took me to this tiny, ivy-covered restaurant where we ate something called pizza. The restaurant serves lots of old-time food like hamburgers and steaks and pizza and something called sushi. We have supplements with these names that taste similar, but to hold a slice of pizza in your hand and take a bite and smell that smell – it’s an experience, like actually holding a book rather than just reading it, that is almost … magical. Hon told me that the restaurant owner was inspired by the library and actually his best patrons are the librarians themselves. 

Meals in this century basically consist of popping small tablets into your mouth. There’s no grease or mess and I’ve only realized today how boring it is. In Winter, when a boy takes a girl on a date, they pop a tablet that will keep them from being hungry for hours, and one that will give them energy and prevent them from being flatulent. Dinner is not even a part of a date, and in some areas, both in Summer and Winter, it’s incredibly rude to even ingest a tablet in front of someone else. Of course, in heathen Spring they eat all real food and only keep tablets on a person in case they get lost in some inhospitable land. 

Dinner at the palace consists of downing a tablet prepared beforehand (for me, by Stan and everyone else by the kitchen staff). Then there is dancing and conversation, and then we pop another tab for desert. Now, there is an art to it, and mass-produced tablets do not have the same flavor as homemade, but Stan and Todd are basically engineers, rather than cooks in an archaic sense with pots and pans and assorted large cutlery. And what they do is delicious, but it’s why I can get away with saying I’m eating entrails, and really be eating beef stew. Only my chef knows my secret.

I think I will throw a ball, my mother and my husband have both been urging me to do so, and serve real food that people will eat with their own two hands, like I did tonight with Hon. I wish I could invite him – he more than anyone else, would have an appreciation for it. However, I’m sure he will be there, albeit in disguise. I have still yet to catch him at court. Either his disguise is completely brilliant, or he’s just not there.

September 26

Yesterday and today I had more interviews -- it astonishes me that so many obviously unqualified people actually show up and expect to get the job. Half of these kids aren’t even out of school and only a fraction of all the applicants have even a glimmer of talent. Also, their interview skill are so shoddy. Three people burst into tears in the middle of the interview. Men are such babies, seriously. Anyway, I did finally get to interview Samson today. Y’know, love has this reputation of being blind, but Jea was not exaggerating; Samson is incredibly talented. Of course, he has the art of making love down, I’ve experienced it firsthand at court, but he kept a lid on sexual innuendo today, without sacrificing charm. 

I was incredibly impressed because Danae was a very public figure until her husband died. She did a lot of interviews, and she even did some guest lecturing, so I need someone who not only has a lot of talent, but who can present themselves well. Samson is perfect. I set him the task of designing some pretty specific building that Danae was actually commissioned to design six months ago. We’ll see what he comes up with. 

I scheduled three more follow-up interviews, between today and yesterday. I don’t have a lot of hope for any of the applicants besides Samson, but I will need at least one back-up architect, preferably two, in case Samson flakes out on us like Danae did. Some of these applicants do have some talent and personality but both are immature, uncontrolled. I was far more impressed with Samson than I thought I would be.

Carrot showed me through more of Danae’s files today -- personnel files from past employees. I discovered that Carrot is actually the business partner who is suing me. No wonder her name sounded familiar. I guess I expected someone more mercenary. It’s probably a good thing that I’m not a very friendly person, so Carrot must have taken my indifference as coolness on Danae’s part. Now that I know, I’ll have to figure out how to approach Carrot about the suit. Maybe I can talk her out of suing me -- I mean, Danae. Anyway, presumably they were friends once, or at least close acquaintances.

Along with the personnel files, Carrot provided me with Danae’s entire portfolio of finished work complete with photos and interviews. I’ve seen some of this stuff before, but it was awe-inspiring to see all of her work in one place. And this was only her finished work. Eliava told me that Danae didn’t keep her works-in-progress at work, but at home on her personal computer. Maybe I’ll have Samson go through the designs at some point, and see if we can’t find some finished designs that never got built. It would be nice to honor her memory with a new building; a dream that she was never able to achieve, fulfilled in her honor.

I had another date with my husband tonight, and was struck by the differences between him and Hon. Hon goes out of his way to take me to unique and unpredictable places -- Bohn sticks to local restaurants and our dates inevitably include some sort of alcoholic beverage, and then a show. Maybe it’s part of his “shy farmer” act, but I guess it’s a good thing. Hon’s dates are almost irresistible, and so is my husband. The combination would be entirely overwhelming. It’s a good thing my gorgeous husband is boring and the boring friend has gorgeous taste. 

I think it’d be easier to fall for Hon, at this point, which is a shame considering the fact that I’m married. But real love doesn’t stem from physical attraction, it comes from actually getting to know someone; strengths, weaknesses, good points, and bad. It is fostered by similar interests and also by divergent interests in order to keep things interesting. My husband is so interested in blending in, in being bland, that he may just have the effect he wants. On the other hand, Hon makes an effort to engage my interest. I like that he took a chance on showing me the library and the real restaurant -- no doubt many a Summer girl would have been bored by the former and disgusted by the latter. Hon put himself out there.

Even so, boring or not, my husband gives me the tingles, just standing near him. It amazes me, the power of chemistry. He doesn’t have to do anything to engage my interest, other than smile at me. It’s a good thing Farmer Bohn is a serious person, and not given to smiling a lot or I might have broken Danae’s rule not to sleep with my husband by now. I’m a virgin, but I’m not a prude, and I have never physically wanted a man as much as I want my husband. I feel it more when I’m with Bohn than I do with the king, because I only see the king in court, never in private -- it’s difficult to foster a sexual attraction when everyone in the room is monitoring you to make certain that there is no such attraction. 

Also, when I’m with Bohn, he touches me. Not inappropriately, or anywhere particularly packed with nerve endings. He’ll take my elbow when we walk somewhere, a gentlemanly gesture from way before. His thigh’ll brush mine as he situates himself on the stool next to mine at the bar. His fingers brush mine as we toast each other and the date. Also, his eyes are so much more relaxed when we’re alone than when we’re in court. In court, he has sort of a hard, watchful humor. When we’re on our dates, he relaxes, and his natural humor glimmers more in his eyes than on his lips. It’s nice. It makes me feel special. I know I’m not. I mean, he’s using me -- I mean, Danae as a cover, but the fact that he can relax and be boring around me is kind of a compliment.

When we’re in the local pub or in court, even, he’s always entertaining. He’s quiet when we’re alone. He doesn’t have to catch and hold people’s attention and get them to look where he wants them too. He’s a magician in a crowd -- alone, he’s a man.

September 27

I took Zahina to the library today -- the one with real books. She wasn’t impressed, at first. She didn’t like that she couldn’t look up a word she didn’t understand by pressing a button, and these are old books, so the language can be challenging. I couldn’t articulate what I love about them -- the smell, the texture, the care that went into the creation of the cover art, the papers they used, the number of people who held the book in their hands, and added their own personality to it. Of course, some of these book were mass-marketed, so a lot of these books were printed by machines, but still.

Then I took her to the diary section, and I think she understood it a bit better. In a diary, each word was written in order of thought, in order of intent. It was written on a stream of consciousness that was unaffected by the idea that it would someday be read as a historical document. Old diaries are a cross between a time machine and a mind reader. Not only do we get an account of one person’s movement through history, but we do it by floating through their own mind. I think Zahina is hooked. 

I took her to the real-food restaurant next, and she was enchanted. Like most kids, she is still curious and likes to play with textures. And she’s not yet at the age where she laments the idea of getting her hands dirty. The tastes, too, are so much richer when they go along with scents and shapes and textures. I’ve had lasagna before, and the taste of a lasagna tablet almost captures the actual taste, but it doesn’t give you what the other senses crave -- sight, touch, scent, even the sound you get when you bit into something crunchy is completely different the soft smacking that comes with chewing something soft. I can almost understand why much of the more affluent sections of the world in the second millennium AD held a large population of obese people. When I bite into real food, I don’t want to stop. Every bite is different, a new experience in its own right. 

I was glad that Zahina appreciated the place as much as I do. I think the library will our new hangout. It’s nice to have a place that can help us build our bond, without relation to the missing Danae. Everywhere I am with Zahina has Danae’s imprint still on it. The apartment, Zahina’s school, the car, everywhere. It belonged to Danae and Zahina and I am now the paltry stand-in, in those places. But at the library and the restaurant, Zahina and I create the imprints together, and I’m not stepping into an already established place.

I had my third date with my husband tonight. After two dates with Hon and two dates with my husband, I had more of a better idea of what was expected of me. Not much, really. The play we went to see was dark and crowded and not particularly a good place to chat, and the drink we had beforehand was cut short because I was late, and we didn’t want to miss the play. The only time I really had alone with my husband was in the elevator on the way back to my apartment. He said that he had tickets for another play next week. I, realizing that I will never get to know him, sitting in the dark watching other people pretend to live, suggested that we take a walk in the park beforehand instead of get a drink.

He seemed surprised, but not upset. I guess I haven’t shown much of an interest in him before today. He must have assumed that I was using him as a distraction from my grief, and was happy to provide that distraction because it furthered his own persona’s illusion of a social life. He kissed me on the cheek again, as a way of saying goodnight. 

There’s this thing that happens when I’m around my husband. I touch myself all day long. I’ll scratch an itch, or move hair away from my face, or stroke my nose with my forefinger (it’s a habit of Danae’s which betrays an excess of emotion), and of course I’ll put a hand on my hip or fold my arms, or whatever. But whenever I’m around my husband, it’s like my skin becomes a cluster of highly sensitized nerve endings. He won’t touch me anyplace particularly associated with romance, or even on purpose. We’ll bump hips as we allow someone to pass on the sidewalk. When I sit next to him in the theatre, his leg presses against mine. He’ll take my hand to help me up out of my seat. I can forget that there are other people surrounding us when he touches me. I have to make certain not to make eye contact, or he will see me wanting him, way more than I should. It’s just odd that I can tap myself on the arm, and feel nothing interesting, but if he does, I tingle, and not just on my arm.

I didn’t go into the office today. I’m spending too much time away from the palace and my absence is starting to make murmurs in court. I have to avoid that at all costs, because once people start wondering where I am, someone will find out. So I looked through the accounts I brought back with me. I keep them in the cave, and then when I’m in court, I have Adora guard them with her life. If that girl every betrays me, I am sunk, for she knows all of my secrets. Anyway, it’s fortunate that the tablets weigh next to nothing, and they’re fairly unobtrusive. They’re about the same size as a book -- the electronic gadget, I mean. It’s slimmer and lighter than the volumes in the real library, but it holds a lot of information. 

The sooner we implement Samson, the better. Jea has gone back to ignoring me, even in private, but I’m going to tell Samson tomorrow that he got the job. If he and Jea get married in a month or so, a slightly premature baby will not be cause for much comment. Winter women are known for squeezing their babies out early, anyway. It’s a complete fabrication on our part -- our birth month on our birth certificate is usually about two months before we were actually born, but it’s a nice piece of inflammation to spread around. 

September 28

I hired Samson today. It’s a little weird to sit across a desk from him – we’re both in suits, and he’s dynamic but not flirting and I’m smiling, not cold. Now, Danae doesn’t smile a lot, or big because after twenty-plus years in Winter, my face just does not bend that way. However, Danae smiles a little, which is more than I do. I keep expecting him to recognize me; after all he has stared deep into my eyes and tried to make love to me on more than one occasion. Still, I guess with the hair and the clothes and the smile, I look pretty different. Besides, I heard that when Summer guys stare deeply into your eyes, they’re really just looking at their reflection.

It’s funny how exposed I feel after my date with my husband. I guess I just don’t have that many people actually looking at me. They look at my mask. They look at Winter, the Queen of Summer, but they don’t see me. I see people do the same thing to others, as well. Stan is invisible as far as the ladies and the lords are concerned. The only time one of the staff is noticed, is if they’re not doing their job correctly – or if they’re particularly attractive, but that’s another story. Even then attractive staff who want to refrain from being noticed, dress plainly and keep their heads down. 

They’re effectively invisible. No one is trying to look past their station to see the multi-dimensional person within; the person with problems and families and the small joys that come to them daily. Then again, lords and ladies of the court are effectively invisible as well – they hide behind their wigs and their airs and no one looks too deep into them either. It’s kind of nice to get out, into a somewhat normal environment; the pubs, the office, the library – where matters of state don’t matter as much.

All that people on the street want to know is, can they get on with their lives today? If the answer is yes, they don’t worry. If the answer is no, there’s a revolt. Fortunately, things in Summer are pretty steady right now. Then again, the main citizens, indeed most of the nobility do not know that within two years, the planet is going to drift into the sun’s orbit. Without the mass of Old Earth to maintain its own gravitational pull, in another twenty years, Summer will be too close to the sun to sustain human life.

Fundamental Summerians who hate Winter with a passion are working on a number of different projects to avoid this. One is a synthetic atmosphere which will help block the sun’s rays so that people won’t die for another two thousand years. This is the short range plan, and the fundamentalists want to do this is the hopes that Summerians will come up with a more permanent solution at some point. 

Another project they’re working on is an engine that will turn the planet into a giant spaceship and move the planet out of orbit. Unfortunately, the technology is about five years away from viability, and once the planet is in the Sun’s orbit, the engine would have to be even stronger, in order to pull it away from the sun’s gravitation.

The final project is probably the stupidest. Some scientists are working on a way to make Summer spin so that it’ll have it’s own gravitational pull, and then if it gets pulled into the sun’s orbit, it’ll be able to maintain a relative distance from the sun. This idea is so ridiculous that none but the stupidest scientists even consider it a viable suggestion. Still, the anti-Winter mentality is so strong that the project has gotten independent funding.

Winter may actually need the second project in a few thousand years. Right now, all of the planets are being held upright by the slight gravity we do get from the sun. That’s why the planets aren’t in freefall, and why they don’t just tip over. However, it’s only a matter of time before Winter will need a way to save itself. If we could turn the entire planet into a spaceship, then we could move everyone along to a spot in another galaxy where astrologists have found a planet that can sustain human life. We’ve already got some colonists over there and things seem to be going well. Also, there are several other possibilities that have not been tested yet.

There is no way that Summer will share their technology with us, and Summerians are more advanced technologically because of their proximity to the sun, the ultimate solar power source. They will share it with us, however, if we incorporate both planets. Also, we need to find a way to help Autumn and Spring, too since Spring is about twenty years from being pulled into the sun’s orbit. Autumn is twenty years away, and Winter is hundred years away. So we are the least desperate for the new technology, which puts us in an enviable position.

Still, Summer-Winter relations are so bad that it makes me wonder if it would matter. On Winter, they’re trying to sway the population’s view of Summer, but after five thousand years of anti-Summerian politics, even people who are not involved in the war are still influenced by old fairy tales wherein Summerians are detestable. The idea that Summerians will depend on us for survival is just means to believe that Winter is the superior country and that we can do with them what we will. Summerians who are in the know, are worried that Winterians would treat them as slaves if they moved the entire population to Winter. It’s a valid point, too. Winterians, just by nature would not have a lot of patience with a friendly, smiling culture which bases its superiority on its gentility.

It makes me more determined than ever to unite the planets with a baby born of both Winter and Summer. And though my mother turns out to be from Summer, no one knows that – besides which, my father is still from Winter, which would make the baby of Winter blood, even if it wasn’t mixed evenly with Summer blood.