ACL: 45. A Rosy Day

Chapter 45: A Rosy Day

Dinah Alcott

I adjusted my visor. It covered half my face, but that was because it was also a screen. I couldn’t hear anything when I had it on. Instead, it had mechanical ears that took everything that was said and wrote them out onto my screen.

That way, I wouldn’t be forced to answer any questions. If I wanted to trigger my power, I just mouthed the question to myself under my breath. Armsmaster said it was tricky to make, so maybe that was why it took so long to debut me.

Whatever the case, the color was the only thing I liked about it. It was heavy, made my ears sweat, and I sometimes couldn’t read the words fast enough when people talked too quickly.

I sighed and looked out at the crowd. There weren’t that many people, mostly just the ones that had been shopping at the mall already, but I still felt nervous. They’d see me when I walked out there. Rory said I should imagine everyone naked, but that was gross. Maybe it was a boy thing.

“Delphi, are you nervous?” Miss Militia asked with a warm smile. It was weird how I knew she was smiling even though I could only see her eyes.

“Yes… Is… Is that weird? Heroes aren’t supposed to be afraid,” I said quietly.

She placed a warm hand on my shoulder. “That’s not true. Heroes are afraid, just like everyone else. We are heroes because we face the things that make us afraid, not because we don’t feel fear.”

“I don’t know if I can. What if they don’t like me? Rory says I should imagine everyone naked, but that sounds gross and weird and like one of those boy things mom says I shouldn’t worry about.”

“No, that never worked for me, either,” she replied with a quiet chuckle. “Do you know what I do when I’m nervous?”

“What?”

“I imagine the bravest, strongest person I know. Then, I pretend I’m them. Or that they’re standing right next to me.”

“Who is it?” I asked, curious. Miss Militia was old. She’d been a hero for a long time. “Is it Alexandria?”

She shook her head gently. “No. You can imagine you’re Alexandria if you want. For me? That’s Hero.”

“Hero?” I read about him in history class. He died.

“Yes. Did I ever tell you? I was in the very first Wards team. He was the one who recruited me.”

“R-Really?”

“Really. Me and a lot of other children. Whenever I’m nervous, I sometimes imagine him standing behind me, encouraging me.”

“I understand…” I took a deep breath. “I… I think I’m ready now.”

“Don’t be afraid. You can just read the answers on your visor if you want. There is nothing to worry about.”

She left then, maybe to do some other hero thing. She was nice, definitely the best Protectorate hero, though maybe I wouldn’t tell Rory that.

Soon, the emcee, a radio-lady who did morning talk shows that mom liked, called for me and I stepped out from behind the stage. I waved with one hand, just like the PR lady told me to. Polite applause greeted me as I walked the five steps to the mic.

Rory was there in the back, wearing his silly lion helmet. Miss Militia was there, too. They were supposed to be security, not that anyone thought anything would happen.

On stage, Aegis had already been talking to the emcee. He was Wards Leader, and that made him important. That meant he had to welcome me into the Wards. Well, he already did that weeks ago, but people wanted to see him do it publicly.

I liked him. He was big and strong and reminded me of Rory. Besides, he didn’t seem like he enjoyed this kind of thing either, so he must have “had his head screwed on right,” as dad would say.

This wasn’t fun. Missy said being a hero was fun. She was a lying liar who lied and I was going to pinch her after this.

Another deep breath.

More butterflies in my stomach.

I tried Rory’s method. People looked really ugly in their underwear. That didn’t make me more confident; it just made me wonder which crazy person came up with the dumb idea.

I tried Miss Militia’s method, too. Menagerie. He was the strongest person I knew. He was also the person who first discovered my power. I imagined a big, strong unicorn looming behind me, but that just made me wish he was really here so I could have another pony ride. Then, all the attention would be on him, not me.

And it didn’t really help anyway because I knew he wasn’t really here. He was Menagerie; he probably had a bazillion other, better things to do. And it wasn’t as though he could answer the questions or talk to people for me. Now that I thought about it, he didn’t really do much talking, not to people, not like this.

I wanted to run backstage. This was stupid. I was a thinker so it wasn’t like I was supposed to be out in public anyway, right?

Then, my attention was taken by a red petal that drifted across my vision. It carried the smell of roses, like mommy’s shampoo. I looked up. More petals in red, white, and blue began to drift down from the sky.

Hillside Mall was a donut-shaped building, with an open-air food court and stage. Sometimes, amateur bands played here, though they weren’t very good. The food court was nice, but it didn’t have much in the way of flowers, certainly not roses.

The curtain of rose petals shifted. For a moment, I thought I spotted a small, green pixie duck behind the roof. I could have sworn that it gave me a little salute. It was beautiful, with a hat made of white roses and a bouquet in each of its hands.

I felt a big grin spread over my face. That was Menagerie. That had to be him. He was here, just to see me as Delphi, not Dinah.

People looked around, trying to see where the petals came from. They muttered amongst each other about how the PRT had pulled out all the stops for me.

That made me want to curl up into a ball again. This didn’t make me feel better! If anything, it just made everyone have high expectations of me!

I looked for Rory again. He stood behind everyone, acting as security without taking my spotlight. I wished they would have let him have it. He was a much better speaker than me.

“Breathe, Delphi,” I heard Miss Militia through my earpiece. “Just read the speech. You don’t have to worry about anything else.”

“O-Okay,” I muttered, then winced. I’d said that out loud. Everyone must know that I was listening to someone now.

Still, I took a deep breath and spoke. I stuttered and stumbled and wished someone else could read it for me. Armsmaster should have built a speaker into my visor too. That way, I could have just recorded myself reading it and played it back.

It was custom for new heroes to write our own inauguration speeches. Director Piggot said something about how capes were public servants and we should make oaths to defend and protect, just like police officers did. Maybe, if we had to write our own vows, then we’d feel a deeper sense of personal integrity and stuff.

I didn’t really know what that meant. To me, it just meant I had to write my own speeches. And I couldn’t write good speeches.

My speech went to someone else to be graded. It was just like English class, except I wasn’t sure what I was being graded on. 

He first told me it was too short. Then, he told me I should add something about protecting people and how happy I was to be a Ward. After that, he said I should remind everyone that thinkers are heroes too, and that I could be safe in the Wards.

I wished he’d told me all of that the first time. Sophia said the speech-writing was because “Director Piggy” hated capes. Rory said it was because Director Piggot wanted us to feel the importance of what we were promising. And that I shouldn’t call her that if I didn’t want to be in big trouble.

I didn’t care anymore. I just turned my brain off and said the words that appeared on my visor. I probably sounded really weird because my face was red and I stuttered like an embarrassed robot, but it was done. 

I shook Aegis’ hand one last time. He guided me to my seat next to the emcee before flying off. This was my show… even if I wished it wasn’t.

The emcee smiled and began to ask me questions. They were all prepared in advance, but I couldn’t remember any of them. On the plus side, the answers the PRT wanted me to say would pop up on the visor so that was nice.

She gave me a friendly smile. “So, Delphi, how are you feeling?”

“Like I want to throw up,” I didn’t say. Instead, I smiled and waved. I glared up at the roof in annoyance. How did Menagerie do it? 

He always looked so confident. Maybe it was easier to lie when you could wear a thousand different faces, but that couldn’t be it. He was still him under the forms. No, he was bold. He never hid away from anyone.

And neither did Rory. He always said that being loud, acting confident, that was half the battle. Roar like a lion, even if you feel like a cute bunny rabbit. Maybe that was why he wore a lion helmet, so he could feel like the king of the jungle.

I sat up straight. They said I could just speak honestly; I didn’t need to read out loud. Maybe if I didn’t, I’d feel less like a robot. “I’m doing okay. I didn’t stutter too much, did I?”

“No, you were great,” she lied, because she was supposed to. “I heard each of the Wards write their own speeches. That must have been hard.”

“It was, but I had some help, too.” Then, because words flashed on my visor, “I think it makes our promises more meaningful.”

“That’s a really thoughtful way of looking at things, Delphi. We’re going to ask you a few questions, alright?”

“Okay, shoot.”

“Let’s start with the one everyone wants to know: What is your superpower?”

“I am a thinker. I’m really good at math.” That wasn’t a secret, but how my power activated was. That was good; I didn’t want people shouting random questions at me.

“Oh, so you’ll be doing a lot of work with PRT analysts. How do you feel about that?”

“I like it. I don’t like PE so I don’t think I’d like walking around for hours,” I replied. That got some polite chuckles. See, Rory? I could be funny… maybe…

“I don’t think anyone liked PE growing up. Next question: Who is your favorite hero?”

“Menagerie. I really want to ride the unicorn.” I almost said “again” but caught myself I wasn’t Dinah; I was Delphi. No one was supposed to know that Menagerie found me first.

She chuckled. “Yeah, me too. How about if you don’t include him?”

The screen blipped. I was supposed to name a Protectorate hero. I saw my cousin in the back and smiled. They did say I should be charming. “Panacea, because everyone knows her real superpower is making Menagerie give people more pony rides.”

“Haha, what about in the Protectorate?”

“In the Protectorate? Hmm… I guess Triumph. He’s okay, even if he’s a furry,” I said with an innocent smile. But the moment the words left my mouth, I knew I’d screwed up.

“F-Furry?” she choked. I saw my cousin shaking his head.

I was dead. I was so dead. He’d tell mom. And Director Piggot. And they’d all ground me forever.

See, Menagerie! See, Triumph! This is what being bold gets you! Scoldings and console duty!

I looked out over the crowd. They looked so much more interested now. Well, since I was already in trouble…

“Yup! That’s what you call boys who like kitties, right?”

“I-I guess so…”

“Then he must be a furry. The furriest of furries. He even has a lion-shaped hat. So he must be the king of furries.”

“N-Now, I wouldn’t go that far–”

“I would. The lion is the king of the jungle. So, Triumph must be the king of the furries,” I said with a proud nod. I was twelve, not six. I wasn’t that innocent. He’d yell at me for this later, but meh. It was his fault for making his cape identity a fursona.

“I’m sure there are good reasons he chose a lion motif.”

“Yes, because he is a furry.”

“M-Moving on,” she laughed nervously. She probably realized she just became PHO-famous. “Is there anything you’re looking forward to most now that you’re a real hero?”

More questions followed. I gave her more generic answers, with some funny ones. I thought about it, and what was Director Piggot going to do? Ground me? It wasn’t like I went on patrols anyway.

I now understood why Menagerie didn’t join the Wards. But if Rory thought I had to join, then I was going to make it everyone else’s problem, too.

X

Brockton Bay, NH, USA
Friday, February 12, 2011
Type: Grass

I let out a quiet chuckle as Dinah gave her answers. She had a lot more spunk than people gave her credit for, myself included.

“Are you happy with yourself?” Victoria asked with a rueful shake of her head. Her blonde locks cascaded down her shoulders like a golden river.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied, my bouquets waving nonchalantly. “I just gave her a little encouragement, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh. How’d you meet her? Ames says you discovered her a while ago.”

“You know I have thinker powers, right?”

“You have a power that lets you find new triggers?”

“No, of course not. I have a power that lets me ask questions of future versions of people I know. One such session led me to her, back when she was just starting to get inexplicable headaches.”

“Thinker headaches.”

“Yeah, those. I gave her some advice, mostly just a little encouragement. She was actually the person who provided crucial information about Coil when I first started going after him.”

“Wait, seriously? You asked a fresh trigger to help you? Was that wise?”

“It was. Or at least, it was the best decision I could have made at the time. Dinah has the power to tell you the exact probability of any question you ask. So, I asked her something like, ‘What is the probability of your continued safety if I tell you what I’m thinking?’”

“And then you asked her the same question, but if you kept silent,” Vicky said, connecting the dots. She could be unexpectedly intelligent. “Clever. That way, you had her verify the choice that’d keep her safe. But how did you know she wouldn’t lie? Kids can be curious.”

“She can’t,” I told her with a shrug. “I already knew how her power worked thanks to my own precog abilities, remember?”

“Right. Heh, you know, most people think you’re a brute. Sure, cool changer powers, but most of them seem to be different flavors of brute and shaker. It’s easy to forget you also have high-level thinker powers.”

“I never tried to hide it. I did a whole fortune-telling session at the Lord’s Market, remember?”

“I remember. You were that Egyptian-looking bird.”

“Yup.” I hopped onto Vicky’s shoulder. “Let’s go. Take me to Amy.”

“Not going to stick around for the whole thing?” she asked. Her arms wrapped around my torso. Roserade weren’t big pokemon.

“Nah. I just wanted to check in on her. She’s doing okay now.”

“Okay, one sec.” I heard her take an audible breath.

The white rose attached to my head rustled ticklishly. I squirmed and suppressed a giggle. “Oi! Are you sniffing me?”

Her arms tightened around me as she took another sniff. She was much stronger than me at the moment, physically speaking. “Yes, now hold still for a bit. You smell awesome.”

“This is weird. This is so weird.”

“Shush, let me sniff you.”

“I have thorns.”

“I have a force field.”

“You trust that force field way more than you should.”

“Lies. Being a brick is great.”

X

I landed in the Dallon family backyard as a tropius, gently enough that my heavy bulk didn’t shake the ground. I shrugged, slipping Vicky off my back and onto the lawn. Vicky was a little loopy at the moment, with a wide, drooling grin.

Amy rushed out of the house. Seeing Vicky, the resident healer went over to check on her.

“Blake?” Amy asked, eyebrows raised in question. “Why does my sister look as high as a kite?”

I shifted back. “She kept sniffing my hair and it was getting weird.”

“So you drugged her? Really, Blake?”

“Hey, it’s just Sweet Scent.”

“Which is?”

“It’s basically an aroma that pacifies aggressive behaviors for a little while. Think of it as a mild relaxant.”

“Still, you can’t drug people willy-nilly like that.”

“She’s fine. It’s not like what I did is harmful.”

“Doesn’t matter. No drugging people, especially not my sister.”

“Fine, but she started it. Do you have any idea how weird it is to have someone else’s nose buried in your head-flower?”

“I don’t have a head-flower so I wouldn’t know,” she replied dryly.

“Exactly! You can’t understand my pain!” I wailed to the heavens.

“Stop being melodramatic,” she grunted. She jabbed her sister on the cheek. “Huh… There really isn’t anything wrong with her. It’s like she’s in this super-relaxed state.”

“Yeah, that's what I said. Just give her a minute. Or coffee.”

“Alright, fine. Help me carry her inside.”

I picked up her sister in a fireman’s carry. “I got it. Where do you want her?”

She waved me towards the couch. “Just dump her wherever. She’d get all sulky if she found out I showed you her room.”

“Fair enough. Thanks for reminding me about Delphi’s inauguration ceremony by the way. I definitely would have forgotten without you sending Vicky.”

“No problem. We really need a way to stay in touch when you’re a pokemon though. It’s a shame you can’t carry a phone. Maybe you should get a separate belt pouch with a phone in it that you can carry around.”

“Maybe. Where are your parents? I would have thought they’d be around.”

“Were you expecting mom to chew you out for drugging Vicky?”

“Kinda, yeah.”

“Well, you lucked out. Dad’s in a good mood today so they went down to the pier. They used to fish every weekend off the pier back when they were dating.”

“Huh, good for them.”

“I know, right? I told them Vicky and I would order pizza so they can have a dinner date and watch the sunset or whatever later. Come on, we can give Dragon a call while Vicky sobers up.”

X

We relocated to Amy’s room. It was a relatively plain room, but with a very different vibe than the rest of the house. The Dallon house wasn’t just neat, it was immaculate.

Other than the kitchen sink, which contained the few dishes from the night prior, their house didn’t really look lived-in. If, five hundred years from now, historians created a museum exhibit of “twenty-first century American dream,” their house would be it. 

It was as though there was an aura of cleanliness radiating from Carol’s home office on the ground floor, waging a war against any sign of teenage habitation. Vicky tried, but it was clear that the communal spaces of the house had been lost to Carol’s “business professional” aesthetics.

As if in quiet rebellion, Amy’s room was the exact opposite of that. Though plain in the way of decorations, it looked as though a garbodor made of teen girls’ clothes had died in here, scattering its “entrails” across the room.

I saw Amy’s trademark white robes draped over the back of her desk chair. Two more identical costumes hung from a closet, door open haphazardly. Shoes and socks were strewn about at random, alongside several outfits I’d seen her wear in school. On her desk was an upended purse with her wallet, keys, phone, and pack of half-full tampons. 

The only island of neatness in the storm of Amy’s destruction was a bookshelf by the windowsill. It was crammed full, but with a sense of organized chaos at odds with the rest of her room. I saw textbooks, young adult novels, and one of those crossword collections.

Pride of place on the windowsill sat a bonsai tree. It was about a foot high, with wide, grasping branches that made it wider than it was tall. Only one of the branches curved downward, towards the soil, and I could see that something had been picked from it recently.

The bonsai box was proportionally larger than the ones I saw online. If I remembered right, Amy made a nutrient sink beneath the miniature oran berry tree’s roots to better hide her biotinkering from her family. The tree would grow a potato-like “fruit,” which she could then transfer up through its branches to promote the formation of a proper oran berry. 

“S-Sorry my room’s a mess,” Amy said with uncharacteristic shyness. Her hand whipped out, snatching her purse and filling it back up again. “I was going to clean but got distracted.”

I pulled my helmet off and tossed it on the bed. “It’s cool. I live in an orphanage, remember? Trust me, you’ve got nothing on how messy Leah can be.”

“She’s your sister, right?”

“Right. Imagine if reggae met punk-pop and you’ve got her style down. She’s pretty messy, too.”

“Huh… It’s kinda weird thinking of you having over a dozen siblings. Then again, you are pretty good with kids.”

“Yup. Skill born of experience.” I picked up the bonsai tree. “So, Dragon.”

“Yeah, let’s give her a call.”

Author’s Note

Cliffhanger? Cliffhanger.

And yes, I do enjoy your suffering.

Nah, had to think about some things with Dragon. Decided to wait a bit.

Dinah’s snippet doesn’t really matter. I’m not sure why it got put in, but I wrote it anyway. It started as a few hundred words, then ballooned into a mini interlude that took over half the chapter.

That’s the beauty of fanfiction; I get to meander like a rambling drunk and that’s okay. An editor would have tossed it because it’s irrelevant, but she’s cute so here she is.

Animal Fact: In the supermarket, you’re likely to find three types of salmon: Atlantic, sockeye, and king salmon. Pretty much all Atlantic salmon is farmed and the name refers to the species, not the location where it was farmed.

Funny enough, Chile is the biggest exporter of Atlantic salmon. This is why Atlantic salmon is the cheapest, because it had to travel further to you and is generally less fresh. It’s also farmed in very tight enclosures that are akin to those big, industrial chicken coops. Norway and Scotland farm Atlantic salmon as well, and typically in better conditions.

Sockeye can be farmed, but most are wild caught. And, of course, king salmon is exclusively found wild in Alaska, which makes it the most expensive of the bunch.