They walked through the soul. A couple of classes must have just ended because it was busy, despite the wide-open green space. It was getting colder, and Hunter reckoned that the snow would come any day now. Yet the cold weather didn't seem to affect the spirits of the students who appeared so cheerful to be there. Hunter got a few looks, and he wondered whether they were from potential enemies or curious onlookers.
Despite his earlier awkwardness, Tilda seemed adept at defusing nerves. They talked about their mutual interest in constructs and etherium. It made the walk interesting and helped to distract him from the crowds.
Hunter could remember a few details from the attack, as the weeks went by. Tattoos that curled down wrists, onto hands. Bracelets and rings. One of them had worn boots with the name CODY written across one side, with what Hunter could only assume was a felt pen.
Aera had told him to let him know if he remembered anything. So far, he'd been reluctant to tell her. He couldn't be sure why.
All he knew was that the prospect of telling her made him nervous.
He felt the same nerves whenever people recognized him around campus. Hunter couldn't remember ever having felt this way before.
Sailor's Diner had an early-century charm. The aesthetic came from a time before the world-altering discovery that the sky was an illusion. It was also before Force glyphs became common. Back then, the efficacy of constructs was limited to party tricks and lighting the homes of the wealthy. The dreamers of the world imagined that they'd be able to reach the stars by strapping a metal hull to a missile, shooting explorers out into space.
As far as Hunter knew, no one ever attempted it, but the imagery was popular in comic books and literature.
It had been a generation which had been used to experiencing rapid change, namely his father's generation, who saw an incredible expansion of human potential through electronics and computer technology. He presumed it made the bitter pill—that their entire cosmology was wrong—easier to swallow.
He and Tilda found themselves in a small booth in a corner of the diner. Tilda seemed excited to be there, taking in the diner as if she were actually stepping into the past. A waitress came to greet them and took their orders. Hunter ordered a coffee and a sandwich with some fries, and Tilda ordered a strawberry milkshake alongside some fish and chips.
Hunter sipped the coffee when it came, testing it. He grimaced and started shoveling in sugar. Tilda raised an eyebrow when she saw how much he was adding.
"To each their own," Tilda said with a smirk. She closed her eyes in bliss as she sipped her milkshake through a straw.
Hunter regretted not getting one of his own, but the coffee would serve a purpose — keeping him fuelled through meeting Aera for their tutoring sessions later.
"So," Tilda said as the waiter delivered their food, "what else do you do in your spare time, when you're not dropping screwdrivers?"
Hunter coughed up some of the coffee he was sipping..
When he wasn't getting his ass kicked by his adopted sister, he would research world-changing subjects, like synergies; which could increase the efficiency of a large portion of mass-market constructs by a non-insignificant amount, rendering them more accessible to more people, which would cause an exponential increase in not only the amount of artisans in the world but the profit margins for businesses everywhere.
He was delving into revolutionary theories about AR acceleration and the body's connection to etherium, which could push their species into a quality of life and physical capacity that Hunter wasn't even sure he could imagine. Apart from that, he refined his focus to reach unimaginable states, had recently joined one of the world's four most powerful families—and was now targeted by unknown people for unknown reasons.
"Normal, everyday stuff, I guess." Hunter shrugged.
She rolled her eyes.
"And by normal, everyday student stuff, you mean I research constructs all day, every day," she said, dropping her voice in a mocking tone, but Hunter didn't hear any hostility.
Hunter sighed and scratched the back of his neck.
"I haven't spent as much time with research as I'd like to. My apartment lacks the setup for it. I've been wanting to find some equipment I can bring back home to convert my table into something a bit more useful, but I haven't been having much luck."
"You get your own apartment?" Tilda asked, her eyes going wide. "Of course, figures. You're an Oberon, now."
She laughed and leaned back in her seat. She sighed and considered Hunter with a contemplative gaze.
"If the final round had been different, you might have won," she mused, gazing out the window.
His smile was bitter.
"That's what I get for entering on my own," he said.
"With an AR of 5," Tilda said in a loud whisper, "earning fifth place on your own is a feat worth marking down in the history books. Doing it with both hands tied behind your back? It's no wonder you grabbed the attention of the Oberon's."
Hunter was silent for a moment. Hearing it from someone else — someone who wasn't Trey — felt good.
He nodded as she spoke.
"You do not know how good it feels to hear you say that," he said. She smiled and rested her chin on her hands.
"You may not have gotten first place, but you got the best prize," she said. Hunter wanted to agree.
But he was questioning whether that was true. Being demonized because of his father was one thing. It wasn't like that stigma had gone away; it had just been outshone by his new middle name. Say what you want about the Comics. Their negative attention only came when he proved to have some talent with constructs.
What if they'd known he was a Koar? Who knows how they would have treated him?
In the end, he figured that none of that was any of her business. Their time together had been nice so far. He felt like it would be a shame to add a sour note to it.
"It has its advantages," he said, doing his best to offer a genuine smile. It seemed to do the trick. She smiled back and tucked some stray hairs behind her ear.
They both finished their meals, and the time came for them to leave. Life around Barnum kept both of them quite busy, apparently. As they were saying their goodbyes and turning to head their separate ways, Hunter felt one of those irresistible urges he'd grown to both love and hate.
"Hey, Tilda," he asked.
"Hmm?" she asked, turning back to face him.
"It was nice spending time with you," he said, suddenly nervous, but he pushed away the nerves and focused on the feeling he had just a second ago. "Would you like to do this again sometime? Like, maybe next week?"
She smiled.
"Same time?" she asked.
"Yeah, that works for me," he said, feeling his cheeks heat up
"Me too," she said.
As Hunter walked back home, he considered all that had happened to him at Barnum so far.
Until today, it had felt either unbearably hostile, or boring and uneventful. But today the worlds seemed coloured in a different shade.
Despite the grey sky draping the world in a monochrome palette, everything seemed a bit more colourful. The grass, the concrete, even the benches seemed more vibrant.
Hunter was feeling pretty good.
He smiled and nodded at a patrolling guard, who nodded back but kept his eyes on the street ahead of him, alert for trouble.
Maybe Academy life wouldn't be so bad after all.