We stepped outside and Alex dropped my hand.
“No offense, or anything,” he assured me, “but it is way too hot for that.”
I had to agree. Lights flashed in the distance, illuminating an oncoming thunderstorm. Hopefully a cold front followed.
“What’s your opinion on ice cream?” he asked, as though I might be insane and say I didn’t like it, though it was nice of him to not assume I could eat it; my father was lactose intolerant, but thankfully that didn’t affect me.
We chatted about LaShoul’s as we walked the few blocks towards a parlor Alex frequented often, comparing our symptoms and hypothesizing at our triggers. By the time we reached the shop, we both agreed that we had no clue what, if anything, caused the episodes, but were hopeful that with the bio-screens some patterns, if not answers, would start to emerge.
The line for ice cream was probably three times as long as it typically was, but it was well worth the wait as we snagged a recently deserted table by the window, directly under the pink and lime green neon window sign. I’d opted for regular chocolate syrup this time instead of hot fudge, and even without the added heat my strawberry ice cream was melting rapidly.
“So. Topic change onto typical date stuff. Do you want twenty questions? Rapid fire?” Alex teased.
“Rapid fire. Rip the bandage off.”
“Favorite color?”
“Green. Sage.”
“Age?”
“Twenty-four.”
“Best vacation?”
“Never been.”
Alex’s spoon halted its journey. “What do you mean, never been?”
I leaned back in my chair, crossing my legs. “I mean, I’ve never been on vacation,” I repeated slowly.
“How?”
“I believe there is this concept called money that one needs to have to actually make it happen.”
“What about when you were a kid?”
I shook my head. “Dad was a single parent for long enough that he couldn’t afford it. The best I got was traveling to my grandparents’ outside of the city for a week each summer. And that stopped when I was twelve.”
Alex hummed in his throat and stared at his ice cream.
“Is it giving you the answers?”
“Hmm?”
“The ice cream. You’re silently interrogating it,” I observed.
“Not this time. I’ll have to try a different tactic. Time for the bad cop.” He dove in with his spoon again, attacking the melting black cherry ice cream.
My head tossed back on a laugh. “You’re a bit ridiculous, aren’t you?”
“Oh, sure,” he managed around a mouthful of ice cream. “But, honestly, where’s the fun in being serious all the time?”
“Life’s too short,” I answered in agreement, without thinking. I only joked around with Leo like that, but I’d gotten caught up in how easy our conversation was and how comfortable I felt that I’d forgotten that I barely knew Alex. I cleared my throat. “So, is it my turn for rapid fire since I stumped you?”
He gestured at me to get started.
“Siblings?”
“No.”
“Guilty pleasure dessert?”
He pointed at his cup with his spoon. “You’re looking at it.”
“Sunrise or sunset?”
“Sunset. I don’t like being awake for the sunrise.”
“If you could have a superpower, what would it be?”
Alex paused to think. “You know, that’s a good one. Huh. Well. Let’s see here. Probably the ability to tell when someone is lying to me.”
“Why’s that?”
“I guess because I feel like when people lie, they’re just wasting my time. And, well, as we both know, that’s a bit limited for us.”
I nodded. “I get that.”
“What about you? What superpower would you want?”
“Teleportation.”
Alex raised his eyebrows. “You had that one ready.”
“There’s a lot more outside this city. I’d like to see more of the world. Experience things, but still be able to sleep in my own bed at night and not have to worry about packing and weight limits and all that. And, again, the time it takes to travel is not appealing. At least, to the other side of the world.”
“Would you want to be able to take someone with you with your superpower?”
“Yeah. I don’t want to travel alone. I wouldn’t know what I’m doing, or where I should go. I’m not exactly the most confident person around, even on my home turf.”
“Fair. Well, when you get your superpower, you’ll have to hit me up. I’ve been a few places.”
“Oh yeah? Where?”
He waved a hand. “All over. My mom travelled for work a lot when I was little, and when my dad couldn’t, or wouldn’t, take me that week, I’d go with her.”
“That sounds fun.”
“It was actually really boring. I usually had to stay inside whatever hotel we were at. I was lucky if there was a pool. But I spent a lot of time looking out the window and observing people.”
“Well, then, it’s settled. When I get my superpower, I’ll definitely let you tag along.”
He smiled at me, revealing dimples, and ate another mouthful of ice cream.
“So, what is it exactly that you do for work again? You mentioned tech,” I prompted.
Alex swallowed, then answered, “So, I work for one of the big-name science labs. Specifically, I deal with their tech; making sure it’s working, troubleshooting problems, completing some repairs if I’m able to, that sort of thing.”
“The machines that help run the test?”
“Exactly. And I suppose in a way I am helping to make a difference. Because these test might actually find some answers that will help people, you know? But I’m not the one doing the actual research or improving someone’s life with it.”
“But you’re giving the scientists the opportunity to do that,” I pointed out. “Without you, it wouldn’t be possible.”
“Yeah.” He looked down at his bowl, poking at it. “But it takes a lot of people to run everything. I can easily be replaced by the next person. A scientist? Their brain is what does a lot of that work, analyzing things, deciding where to go from there, and I just can’t do that. They’re not replaceable. And I’m not the one who designed the machines or tech; I just service them. A number of other people could do my job. Fuck, even some of the scientists fix the machines when I’m not there if it’s quick enough.”
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
“You want to be more relied on,” I gathered. “Missed when you’re not there.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, this is not what I meant to talk about with you.”
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table. The left one landed in a slightly sticky spot. “No, but sometimes things like this need to be talked about anyways. And out of the majority of the world, you and I happen to have a lot in common.”
“So I haven’t blown this date?”
I laughed. “No, you haven’t. I think it’s important to be able to have serious conversations with people. It’s exhausting having to do small talk all the time. That’s all I seem to do, honestly. That, and offer compliments to people who don’t need them. This is a breath of fresh air. Even my roommate doesn’t talk about this kind of stuff with me.”
Alex scooped the last of his ice cream up and turned around to throw out his bowl. Mine was still about a third full.
“Enough about my job woes. Tell me yours.”
“Not much to tell. I work retail.”
“What kind of retail?”
“Jewelry and accessories. It’s pretty boring. All these rich people with money coming in, expecting to be treated like royalty.” I snorted a laugh. “But if they were royalty or anyone with actual money, they wouldn’t be shopping there anyways. Though there are always a few who are kind and…normal. But the job pays the bills well enough.”
“If you’re interested…” he began slowly. “I could probably get you a job with me. I mean, not with me, but at the company. There’s lots of different types of jobs, depending on what you’re interested in. Or, I know they’re starting some studies soon for LaShoul’s. Not clinical trials for anything, but trying to gather more information from people. They’re paid, the studies, when they do them. I know I’m signing up.”
“I’d definitely consider it. Especially the study.”
“I’ll keep you updated when I hear anything, then.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I hate to end this, but…”
“But it’s getting late,” I finished, scooping the last of the melted ice cream up before tossing my trash. A quick glance at my phone told me the shop was soon to close anyways. A rumble of thunder rolled overhead, the storm quickly approaching. “I need to catch the subway back, anyways. I’d rather not get stuck in the rain, as nice as it might feel. Wet feet and shoes are not a good combination.”
“Let me know when you make it back safe,” he instructed, holding the door to the parlor open for me. “If we both survive the night, maybe we’ll plan another date.”
I stepped outside and turned to him as he let the door fall shut. “I’d like that.” And in the spirit of being spontaneous, I stepped forward, rose on my tiptoes, and kissed his cheek. He flushed, presumably a bit nervous and hopefully not embarrassed or grossed out, and rubbed the back of his neck.
“Thanks, Alex. I’ll see you.”
“Bye, Callie.”
<hr>
The doors to the subway station were dripping with condensation, small puddles of water collecting at the bottom. I braced myself for the cold, but a shiver still trailed down my spine and bumps washed over my body as soon as I stepped inside. It hadn’t felt this cold on my way to the meeting, and I regretted not bringing a jacket or hoodie to throw on.
I checked the digital time table for my train and held in a groan. I had missed it by a measly two minutes, and the next one didn’t come for another twelve. I settled myself near the back wall, making sure that I could see everything around me.
Slowly, my body began to acclimate to the temperature, my fingers tingling uncomfortably. I shoved them under my arms with the hope they’d warm up quicker that way.
The platform was mostly deserted, only a few other stragglers waiting around like me. I tried forcing myself to relax, since no one was near enough to me to be a threat, but my body didn’t listen to me.
Something was…off.
Two minutes later I figured it out. The telltale signs of a headache were approaching, a pressure at my temples. I could feel my pulse gently thrum in my ears, hear the blood whooshing through my veins. They were the first signs I got of an impending LaShoul’s episode.
And I didn’t have my meds on me.
In my nervousness at the meeting, I hadn’t wanted to pack and bring a bag or purse with me, just in case. Though crime was low, I hadn’t wanted to make myself a target in an area I’d never been before. Now, I knew my worries were unwarranted, but it had seemed a reasonable precaution earlier this evening.
I glanced at the time and did some quick mental math. In about ten minutes, I’d be on the train home. Should I call Leo and ask him to meet me at the station with my medicine? I’d get them faster that way. Worst-case scenario, he could help me off the subway if I declined quicker than I usually did.
Requesting a ride-share was hit or miss on the timing, but I’d probably be able to explain to the driver my condition and request to be taken to the hospital or have an ambulance called if I passed out. I couldn’t do either on the subway.
This situation was not ideal. I rubbed the heel of my hand against my temple like it would help the pain slowly building behind my skull. It never did, but I couldn’t help trying anyways.
I fired off a message to Leo, asking if he was still awake. Earlier I’d told him I would be out later than usual, and he had work tomorrow and was likely asleep by now. If he didn’t answer in a few minutes, I’d try calling instead.
The red bar in the top corner of my phone mocked me, the battery dangerously low. Fuck. I thought I had charged it before I left. Hadn’t I charged it? Or was I remembering yesterday, before that disastrous dinner with Leo and his colleagues?
Would I have enough battery to call Leo and, should that fail, get a rideshare before it died on me?
Shit. Shit.
I locked the screen and tucked it away. Being stranded without my phone charged was a big faux pas in the LaShoul’s world, in case of emergencies. It was also something that Leo and I had promised each other, to make sure we could always get in contact whenever needed.
I glanced around, wondering if this platform had a charging station, coming up short.
Of course it didn’t. That would make things too easy on me, and the world couldn’t have that.
After another three minutes, the building pain in my head had turned into an intense throbbing. My brain felt squeezed, like a belt was wrapped around it.
This wasn’t going to be a mild attack.
I checked the screen above the platform.
I wasn’t sure I would make it.
I blinked hard, trying to clear the blurriness in my eyes, as I fired off another text to Leo and shared my location. The low battery notification popped up, just in case I wasn’t aware that my phone was going to die on me.
So helpful, I thought bitterly as I dismissed the notification. Thanks.
A sudden wave of vertigo crashed over me just as my bio-screen alerted to something, or probably several somethings. I listed sideways, smacking into the corner wall but managing to stay upright. I didn’t care about my screen right now; my technological illiteracy was bad enough when I could see and walk straight, and it wasn’t as though I was unaware that my body was going haywire right now.
I needed to get home, fast. If my usual symptoms were to follow, I’d begin overheating soon enough, and not even this frigid air would be enough to keep me from spiking a fever.
I pushed off the wall and stumbled back towards the stairs, trying to navigate to the right app on my phone to request a rideshare. Or call an ambulance. The car would have a charger for my phone I could use, right? I could then call Leo, get him to help me. I would be okay.
That thought kept me going, and I managed to haul myself up the first half flight of stairs before collapsing to my knees, my head throbbing so bad my vision was doubled.
Ambulance it was.
I pulled out my phone to call emergency services. I could try texting, but I didn’t trust myself to not come across as a drunk because I couldn’t control my hands enough to not have a slew of typos.
The screen stayed dark.
Fuck.
What to do, what to do? I chanted to myself.
I had to move. Staying here in the stairwell out of sight of the platform below and the street above could easily be a death sentence.
I began to crawl, my phone still clutched in one hand.
It was a fight to climb every step. My limbs were shaking, vision blurry, nausea climbing up my throat.
Move, move, move, I chanted, closing my eyes and willing myself to just keeping fucking moving.
A brief stinging in my hand. A sudden feeling of suffocation that lasted only a brief moment. My head suddenly expanding, like a rubber band that had been wrapped around it snapped. The sound of hydraulics hissing.
Warm air washed over me, and I opened my eyes.
Confusion bloomed. Why was I staring at the street?
Had I blacked out, like a drunk, and kept climbing? Because there was absolutely zero chance I had consciously crawled up all those stairs to make it in such little time. Though, with my phone still dead, I couldn’t—
A glow was washing my hand in a cool light. I twisted my wrist to see my phone screen cracked but lit.
Had I hallucinated?
Great. That’s exactly what I needed.
I rolled my eyes at myself and easily pulled up Leo’s contact to call him as I stood up, walking away from the doors still spewing cold air into the world.
That’s when I noticed a few things.
The headache was easing. My vision was clear, hands no longer shaking. The alert on my bio-screen had stopped, though the notification still blinked a dull red at me. I angled my arm and flicked through the stats, eyes widening as I saw how bad they had gotten.
<table style="width: 44.4716%" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td style="width: 44.0629%" valign="top">
Statistic
</td>
<td style="width: 55.3816%" valign="top">
Reading
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="width: 44.0629%" valign="middle">
Blood Pressure
</td>
<td style="width: 55.3816%" valign="middle">
177/99
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="width: 44.0629%" valign="middle">
Pulse
</td>
<td style="width: 55.3816%" valign="middle">
160 - 182
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="width: 44.0629%" valign="middle">
Heart Rhythm
</td>
<td style="width: 55.3816%" valign="middle">
Atrial Fibrillation Detected
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="width: 44.0629%" valign="middle">
Oxygen
</td>
<td style="width: 55.3816%" valign="middle">
88%
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="width: 44.0629%" valign="middle">
Temperature
</td>
<td style="width: 55.3816%" valign="middle">
101.4 F / 38.5 C
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="width: 44.0629%" valign="middle">
Cortisol
</td>
<td style="width: 55.3816%" valign="middle">
137 mcg/dL
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="width: 44.0629%" valign="middle">
Plasma Osmolality
</td>
<td style="width: 55.3816%" valign="middle">
177 mOsm/kg
</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
I pulled in a breath and further assessed. Besides my hand that held my phone, which felt burnt, I physically felt…fine. How I was mentally was another story, but I would deal with that later.
I glanced down at my left hand, searching. No red burn mark, but…there. What looked like a pinprick of angry red skin, tight and shining, clearly swollen.
“What the hell?” I twisted my hand under the streetlight, trying to get a better look. With my other index finger, I poked at the inflamed skin and immediately regretted that decision. Pain lanced through my hand, radiating up to my wrist and down my fingers.
Weird, but survivable. I’d worry about it later.
Was I okay now? I thought so. But did I want to risk going back down to the subway, where there was maybe an environmental trigger for my LaShoul’s? Absolutely not.
Rideshare it was, then.