Life in the 'Cosm

By Cait Gordon

What happens when boy meets girl but girl doesn't notice boy because she shares a body with another boy?

When he's not gorging on desserts, calming his hypochondriacal mum, or getting bone-crunching hugs from his warrior dads, Virj Ofreesin spends his time writing a fantasy novel about Frayda, the elegant half of the two-headed Dwa. Life is adequately mediocre until he learns the Dwa are gravely ill, and a mystical cure grows on a planet between two infamously warring worlds. Ignoring all warnings of danger, Virj embarks on the journey to be Frayda's real-life hero, armed only with his stylus, and a boingy-haired nuisance who decides to tag along.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Renaissance Press
• Release date: Mar 3, 2020
• ISBN: 9781386518518

Cait Gordon

Cait Gordon is an autistic, disabled, and queer Canadian writer of speculative fiction that celebrates diversity. She is the author of "Life in the 'Cosm", "The Stealth Lovers", and "Iris and the Crew Tear Through Space" (2023). Her short stories appear in "Alice Unbound: Beyond Wonderland", "We Shall Be Monsters", "Space Opera Libretti", and "Stargazers: Microtales from the Cosmos". Cait also founded The Spoonie Authors Network and joined Talia C. Johnson to co-edit the "Nothing Without Us" and "Nothing Without Us Too" anthologies, whose authors and protagonists are disabled, d/Deaf or hard-of-hearing, Blind or visually impaired, neurodivergent, Spoonie, and/or they manage mental illness.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The Writer, uh, Writes

In the crystal tower stood the king's nephew, lost in reverie over the maiden with white hair. She was eighteen and a peasant, but a gleaming mane defied her status by giving her a regal elegance. Parraig sighed, leaning his chin on his hand. How could he be so smitten? His heart was both captured and captivated. Never in his regimented life had anyone distracted him so.

No sooner did he think to turn away when he caught a glimpse of Ceelyn toiling in the gardens below. Her hair danced in waves down her back and glistened in the sun, the beauty of her tresses obscuring the plain rags she wore. Any sense of self-control deserted Parraig when she began to sing. The haunting melody plagued his heart with longing. It was hopeless. She possessed him fully, without the slightest notion of his desire.

This story should come with a warning label. Caution: might induce vomiting.

What? Why?

Seriously, Virj? As if we haven’t read this goop a bazillion times!

Look, Trance, I—

Unless you make it porny. Yeah, make it pornier, with sizzling shapeshifter sex!

I’m not going to make it pornier with shapeshifter sex. That’s . . . no.

Fine, mutant sex then. Super hawt mutants, though. Not the kind with eyeballs hanging from their sockets, or a foot for a nose. Give ’em lots of boobs.

Virj laid his head on the kitchen table. I’m not writing that kind of smut.

Why not? I’d buy that book.

Exactly.

Cuz, you gotta entice your readers with the promise of a little erotica.

No, I don’t.

Trust me, you do. Those are the books worth buying. I’ve tons at home.

Remind me to take antibiotics if I ever touch your e-reader.

You know, for a writer, you’re clueless about best sellers. People want pervy stories with mutant shapeshifter sex.

Enough with the mutant shapeshifter sex!

Well, don’t blame me if nobody wants to read your syrupy junk with scenes of heavy hand-shaking. You’ll probably only sell one copy, anyway, and to your mum.

Virj sat up and stared at the screen, shoulders tensed and practically reaching his ears. He hated when his cousin came round to the flat, especially on writing days. Invariably, Trance would peer over Virj’s shoulder whenever Virj attempted a few sentences. Being an extrovert and a pathologically expressive one, Trance never failed to blurt his opinion.

And who ever heard of an adolescent with white hair?

It happens, said Virj.

Not to any girl I knew.

Did you even notice their hair back then? Or were your eyes constantly locked onto the mid-chest area?

Mostly. Still, I liked gingers. I’m telling you, there’s nothing like a ginger. Trance smiled at the memory of something deliciously smutty. "Hey, why don’t you give your mutants ginger hair? Mm, smokin' hawt ginger mutant shapeshifter sex. Now that’s a story."

Virj’s head ached. I want this girl to stand out in another way. She's innocent, untouched. The white hair emphasizes her purity, and gives her a mystical air.

Ever see Granny Sherry? The white hair on her head makes her look like a toilet brush.

Trance walked over from the dinette to the living room and climbed into a hammock. It was Virj's Thinking Hammock, where the would-be author would let his imagination soar while wearing fuzzy socks. Fuzzy socks were essential for getting his creative juices flowing. Not to mention his synthetic furry blankie. Virj would typically write while lying in the hammock, but he’d slept in this morning and decided to put on a pot of tea and type at the kitchen table. He didn’t expect his cousin to stop by.

Virj glared at Trance, who was cerulean-skinned, thinner, smaller-snouted, generally better looking, and oozing with confidence. He was also an invader of sacred spaces because even though Virj repeatedly told the man not to lie in the hammock, his cousin always did. Virj couldn’t decide if Trance was a self-absorbed jerk or a malignant narcissist.

Out of the shadows appeared that rogue, Prince Vince, who—despite being told by Parraig not to approach the maiden—swaggered before the girl and bowed grandly. Ceelyn jumped, startled at his presence, and nervously backed away from him. When she found herself cornered against the garden wall, she cried out for help. Before Parraig could respond, a dragon swooped down from the heavens and swallowed Prince Vince whole, spitting out his bones in a sated belch.

Are you still typing? Can we eat? I'm starving.

And people revered the dragon amongst all the beasts of the land, for ridding the world of that annoying, intrusive, obnoxious, tedious, imposing – 

Hey, cuz, are you even listening?

– egocentric, insensitive, domineering, hammock-stealing wanker.

Oof! wheezed Virj, as Splot plopped on his lap. "Where did you come from?"

The little gelatinous creature, which resembled a fried egg, peered at the writer and looked up. Virj followed Splot's stare and noticed the slime trail that went from the far wall to just overhead. His pet had obviously lost his grip.

Bad Splot. I told you no slithering on the ceiling. Bad boy! Virj placed the little guy on his shoulder.

I told you not to sand them. At least the stucco gave me something to hang onto, said Splot to Virj, telepathically. His species, the Ova, could wordlessly communicate with someone of another species, after forming a pair-bond. Virj happened upon the creature when someone accidentally served him on his breakfast plate with toast and sausage. Ova could easily get through cracks and infest dwellings, and often came to a fatal end in a cheap diner.

Lunchy-time, sang Sonny, Virj's houseplant, and housekeeper. His bright cream petals were swept up in a kerchief, which he often wore when vacuuming. Failure to do so could leave him bald and humiliated. It had taken weeks for them to grow back after that door-to-door salesman had given a clumsy demonstration of the XP3K Ubersux series.

Cheerful yet obsessively clean, Sonny’s disposition offset Virj's tendency to brood. It was also convenient not to have to pay for a cleaning service. The spotless flat offered its tenant the freedom to sloth after a hard-day’s work, but Virj felt the sentient daisy’s true talents soared in the kitchen. Sonny’s irresistible desserts had significantly expanded the protruding hemisphere of the writer’s abdomen.

Enjoying the rare opportunity to entertain a guest, the daisy set out a small but delectable feast before Virj and his cousin.

Have you gotten anywhere with Frayda? asked Trance, pulling up a chair at the small table.

Virj blushed and caught a glimpse of Sonny, who continued doling out the dinner rolls without comment. The situation with Frayda posed a challenge. She was a Dwa, and would always be a part of Jobie because they shared the same body. Normally the bigender being cohabited in symbiosis, but lately it seemed like the couple wished they could rend their torso in twain, and live separate lives. Virj wished it, too.

Uh, no, she's with Jobie, he replied, and tried desperately to chew the rather gluey substance in his mouth. He looked up at Sonny. Mmphwhasthis?

The houseplant peered over at the little bowl beside his flatmate and grasped it quickly in his leaves. "Goodness, so that's where my home-made paste went! I'll get your custard. I must have mixed them up."

Too bad Sonny didn't serve it to the other one. He never shuts up, muttered Splot into Virj's thoughts, and peered over at Trance. Virj found it amusing how the little Ovum could mutter without a mouth.

"Of course she's with Jobie, said Trance. But even if this guy wasn't sown to her torso, you couldn't get with her. They have no outward genitalia. There's nowhere for you to put your—"

Anyway, I'd rather not talk about it, if you don't mind. I'm not interested in Frayda. We share an office space, that's all. I think she's a kind person, but I'm not looking for a partner. I'm too busy.

Virj found the custard only slightly less gluey than the actual paste he'd previously sampled. Or perhaps the sound of Frayda’s name had dried up his saliva.

Trance stuffed his face with another dinner roll and pointed his spork at his cousin, emphasizing key syllables with the utensil as he spoke.

Let's face it. You're not much to look at, cuz. You're 30, pudgy, and have a snout like a green megaphone. Plus, this writing farce you're on has got to stop. You're no author. Stick to what you know. Type up instruction manuals, keep your head down, and maybe when you're ancient, some desperate relic with pokey vision might want to end her days with you at the Home.

Oh, interjected Sonny, "I had a wonderful letter from a fellow seedling stationed at the Nearly Dead and Loving It senior complex. They get great afternoon sun through the living room window. He grew several branches higher and his leaves are so shiny! It's all I can do to keep up my photosynthesis around here.

Not that I want to grumble, the daisy added, patting Virj's shoulder, but do you think we can get another sunlamp? Ours shorted out last week. It gets so dark in the flat and my botanist says I need at least six hours of sunlight a day.

Virj fumed into his mashed veggies. He didn’t want to maintain the routine at PogMoTech, where he worked as a technical scribe—the wedding singer of writing jobs. It paid the bills, but only demanded a functional use of his skills. Virj often drifted away as he cut and pasted data from specifications into reader-friendly tables. Adding to his daily torment and sitting beside him was the most beautiful creature he had ever beheld. She had gorgeous green eyes, a dreamy breathy voice, long silvery-white hair that shone like the chrome Sonny overly polished, and a second head who found Virj no threat at all.

Trance sat back and let out a satisfied burp. Once again, great meal, Sonny. Any cake?

Of course! I made a batch of fairy cakes last night and iced them this morning. Let me get them. Sonny glided across the room in his clay hover-pot, which whisked him around the flat.

Virj scowled at his unfinished lunch. He'd lost his appetite.

What's with the mug on you? asked Trance.

Virj didn't respond.

Whatever. Sulk away. I'm gonna check the plumbing. Trance got up, burped again, released some gas from the other end, and headed to the lavatory.

Sonny came back with a plate of beautifully decorated desserts in tantalizingly vivid hues. He obviously had been experimenting with food dyes this morning. Virj had never seen the sky boast such colours.

They look great, Virj mumbled.

Thank you! They had a special on all-natural food colouring at Scarf It Down's online shop. I particularly like the hot pink shade. It's made of noona berries from the moon of Zarf.

Something important about noona berries beckoned from deep within Virj's brain. He couldn’t remember it to save his life. Sonny hovered in the kitchen area, scrubbing dishes thoroughly before putting them in the dishwasher. At least this time he didn’t wash and dry them first. The flower sang away in some floral dialect Virj couldn't understand, and swayed to some rhythm only Sonny could hear.

Ah, that's much better. I drank too much iced tea, said Trance, reaching for a fairy cake.

Iced tea? The six-pack I bought from Orab? They were reserved for a special occasion! Virj got them for Frayda's birthday, and he supposed for Jobie's birthday, too. But Frayda had been the one who said she loved that particular tea when on holiday to Orab with Jobie. It cost Virj the moon to import it.

Oh well, tasty brew, though. Why the tiny cans? I had to guzzle all of them just to quench my thirst.

They were a gift for . . . a friend, and you shouldn't have done that!

Trance stopped short of taking a bite of a hot pink fairy cake. Don't get your snout in a twist, cuz. Just order more. No biggie.

They cost 20 tregas a can!

Twenty tregas a can? For that price they should’ve boinked me five ways I’ve never tried before!

Great. Just freaking great.

What, are you allergic to spending money? You have enough saved. You work at that high-tech place and never buy anything. Trance took a bite of the treat in his hand.

And it hit Virj. Noona berries. Anaphylaxis. If he kept eating the fairy cake, Trance's tongue would swell and his lips would double in size and be sealed shut. A dose of his auto-injector would stop his tongue from choking him to death, but his lips were known to stay sealed for hours.

Do you still carry that anti-allergen on you?

Huh? Trance sucked gobs of icing from his fingers. Yeah, always. Why?

No reason. Virj smiled, handing his cousin the dessert tray. Have another of the pink ones.

Thanks, you're all right. Cheers!

So for a time in the kingdom, peace reigned. Parraig felt content, knowing he could dream about his lady love as much as his heart desired, without anyone to disrupt his thoughts.

Chapter 2

A Day in The Life

Work. Nothing could be more tedious than an unspeakably tedious job. PogMoTech remained the dominant technical corporation of the Delta Mews Business Park. Their products were primarily designed for intragalactic communications and shopping. Virj wrote the manuals that taught customers how to use various applications—a task he found mind-numbingly boring. He supposed most people would figure out the apps themselves or call Tech Support with their inane questions. The work was soulless and mostly useless. Yet, it was mandatory that all high-tech companies had a team of writers to document everything from job descriptions to how to turn on a device. If not, they would be dropped off the Top, Tried, and Trusted list of companies, and no one would do business with them. Ever heard of Give a Sheath, the company that made robotic prophylactics? You haven't, right? That's why. If anyone needed to document how to use anything, this would have been where to start. There were so many lawsuits against Give a Sheath, it wasn’t funny. Although the complaints themselves were quite hilarious.

On the ground floor were shops and a posh beauty salon for wealthy clients. The salon’s owners were infamously colourful characters, both literally and figuratively. Many of the employees from the Delta Mews would treat themselves to an appointment at Xax & Viv’s. If the clients had hair, it would be cut and styled, if they had tentacles, they’d be oiled and tied elegantly, and if they were bald, their scalp would be moisturized and buffed. The collection of real-hair wigs and real-fur toupees remained unparalleled. Claws could also be sharpened, nails trimmed, and paws conditioned. An unworldly sum could buy you an all-day spa package, which included time with a personal trainer, who nearly killed you after measuring your copious amounts of fat, followed by a session with a massage therapist, who asked you why you were so tense and sore. There was something for everyone seeking a good amount of pampering or rebuking.

Virj often visited the place because Xax and Viv had once taken pity on him, and felt they were Virj's best source of paternal care, psychotherapeutic counselling, and common-sense advice. Everything was clear as a crystal lake to Xax and Viv. Then again, the couple seemed to be looking at different bodies of water most of the time.

"BLUE? Are you high? Is she from the hick side of the moon? What’s next, a rope belt? Should we sling a dead rodent over her shoulder and drape her over the hood of a rusted vehicle? Wait, I can already see the hordes of gentlemen callers! Holy stars, how will ever will she fight them off?"

Xax was in good form this morning, doling out judgments while stuffing his muzzle with pastry and tea. He sat in his chair clad in a deep purple shirt made of a rare silk—which cost about a month’s wages of the engineers upstairs—skinny trousers in a shimmering gold, and designer boots. The colour flushed on his coral and olive scales as he snarled his fangs.

The elderly woman sitting to his right had a buttery complexion and wore a high-end mosaic dress. She stared at herself in the mirror, paralyzed while applying her lip gloss, as the stylist argued with his life-partner.

Viv held up the luscious locks, which shone like liquid gemstones draped along his scaly mauve and grey arms. He was built of solid muscle and stood ten spans tall, about half-span taller than Xax, when Xax chose to stand and not devour pastry. Viv wore a sage green short-sleeve shirt of the same ludicrously expensive silk, soft greenish-grey suede trousers, and grey suede loafers. He pressed the pre-teased wig to the side of the old woman's face and the waves of hair cascaded down her shoulders.

Don't listen to that worn-out skank, sweetie, said Viv. It complements your skin beautifully. We'll add some contour along those cheekbones, and I swear I’ll die of pride! As he smiled, he bared perfectly bleached fangs, which had only taken him 30 minutes to whiten before the salon opened earlier. By the way, you can always look at their online shop for products and pricing. They have monthly hot-deal days, when they sell products they want to be rid of at marked-down prices. Like ultra-quick oral bleach, which not only brightens your teeth, but when absorbed through the digestive tract, turns your excrement white for weeks.

You're making her look all prossy-tootie-horror-whory when she should be like, cutesy-granny-knitting-for-charity, shrieked Xax. Nobody wants to see a grandmother they'd like to f—

Would you kiss your granny with that mouth, you creep?

I'd rather be a creep than a pimp. Lookit her. She's got a sweet little face and sky-high shag-me hair!

Never mind him, sweetheart. There's nothing wrong with a woman of your age projecting a bit of the hotty-hotness. Gets the blood boiling at the residence, which leads to sex, which leads to the next husband, which leads to more sex on the honeymoon, which leads to heart failure, which means happy rich widow! Am I right? Viv placed the wig on the old woman's scalp, as she sat motionless, trying to process this strange interaction.

So you're gonna make her a harlot and a murderess. I will not be an accomplice to this, said Xax, lifting his hand in the air as if to swear an oath. Officer, I ain't never seen this tired widower-making, granny-pimping man in my life.

Go away, you prude. You're just jealous because I can bring an old stump of a lady to blossom and flower again. Viv patted the shoulder of his client, who bit her lip uncomfortably.

Fine, I am gone, and beeyotch, don't you even think of coming home tonight. ’Cause if you do, I'm leaving all your last millennium hobo junk on the front step. I don't need this. I'm still young enough to start over with a guy who has some taste. You are so done, you colour-blind lizardman. D-O and N-to-the-E. Just try to run this place without me! Xax stormed off in a huff toward the mall entrance. The old woman lifted her head to follow his path, holding up the lip-gloss applicator, nowhere near her mouth.

He always says that, and we always make up, Viv whispered to his client. He can't live without me, and he knows it. Once you fly a high-revving machine that takes you to the moon and back, you don't settle for some busted hovercraft. He watched his partner pace outside, fully in view, as Xax snuck glances at the salon to see if Viv was looking.

The blob of lip gloss the old woman had previously managed to apply, but not smooth out, mixed with saliva and melted down the front of her open mouth. She still hadn't been able to put her hand down.

Yet, as soon as the drama came, it went, replaced by a new and fresh one. Xax squealed with delight. Viv looked around and his face lit up as his lover brought in a most welcomed sight.

Lookit who I found, Vivvy, our precious son! Don't we make beautiful babies together? Xax gave Virj a warm embrace and kissed each cheek.

Virj grinned at the couple. He was only about 18 solar-years younger than these self-proclaimed parents, but they constantly welcomed him into their family and made a great fuss over him. The Draga were so tall and brawny that at first glance, their lizard-like faces, razor-sharp fangs, and scaly skin made them fearful to behold. They belonged to a race of formidable warriors who were revered for their strength and tactical ability. Virj thought it astounding to be in the presence of two who were so tame. Then he remembered Xax throwing a sit-down hairdryer when Viv complained about, Those vile accessories that looked like someone barfed plastic all over the display. Xax had ripped the chair from its mounts as if it weighed nothing, dropped the person who sat in it on the floor, and hurled it across the room, shattering a wall of mirrors. Maybe they weren't so docile after all.

Virj had met them shortly after he joined PogMoTech, three years ago, when the Draga were closing up for the evening. Viv said Virj’s hair looked like he had received an archaic form of shock therapy and was denied the use of a comb for a year. When Virj seemed crestfallen, because he’d been brooding over Frayda, Xax put his arms around him and called Viv an insensitive fascist. Viv sincerely apologized and offered Virj a free haircut. Often reluctant to try anything not on his scheduled routine, Virj accepted, and the kindness of the two stylists made him open up about his feelings.

Because Virj was so much smaller than they, the Draga often spoiled and coddled him. The pampering and doting didn’t bother Virj in the least; it made him feel special. He often visited the salon, although he hadn't in a month, since he had begun his novel.

Hey, kiddo, where have you been? We were saying this morning that we're going to send a search party after you. Viv bent down and kissed the top of Virj's head. Would you like some tea and fresh pastry?

Before Virj could reply, Xax poked him in the belly with a perfectly manicured claw. I think someone has already been at the pastries, you squishy little thing. Aw, never you mind, Virjie. More of you to love! I’ll be right back with the goodies. The Draga happily trotted off to the kitchenette.

Virj, you’ll sit down here, said Viv, motioning to his chair. "I need to fix that bird's nest on your head. You really should have come to us sooner. Your mop is harder to train than a rabid animal.

Okay, sweetie, you’re done, Viv notified the lady with the striking blue hair that rose like a tower, fastened with sapphire-encrusted barrettes. Jesse at the cash will take care of you. Go get that third husband, darling. And don't forget me in the will!

Virj stared at the old woman and wondered why she had chosen a wig at least 40 years too young for her, and such heavy makeup. He thought she resembled a retired sex worker who couldn't integrate into her senior years. But far be it from Virj to understand the trends. He couldn't fathom one end of fashion from the other. After all, he was the guy with the rabid bird's nest hair.

Ms. Swinton, get Trevor to fix your lipstick. It's a little runny, Viv added, and stepped behind Virj's chair. So, how's my favourite little green man today? Aren't you late for the office?

Yeah, I am, but the company won't pay us overtime. I have to come in late for a couple of months to use up the extra hours I worked for the last project. Anyway, I don't feel much like being there lately, so stalling is easy.

Viv sprayed some liquid on Virj's head and gently massaged his scalp. Whoa, you have the driest, flakiest scalp I've seen in ages. Babe, come over here. Our boy has been upset. See how I can make it snow? As Viv continued to rub, hundreds of tiny pale-green grains floated around Virj's head. Viv was right. This happened to Virj whenever he went through periods of intense stress.

What is it? Xax put the tray of pastries and hot tea down just out of Virj's reach and peered into the maze of spiky hair. My poor darling boy! Are you all right? Has anything happened? He took Virj's face in his large hands and peered into his eyes, with a look of concern that not even the most overly protective mother could rival. And the outpouring of care in Xax's gaze went straight to Virj's tear ducts.

Baby boy, cried Xax.

Kiddo, cried Viv.

The two Draga nearly squashed Virj to death with their loving embraces.

Ow!

Let go of him, you bone-crusher. You're hurting our son! shouted Xax.

"I'm hurting him? You're the one who gained three boulders since you hired the new caterer!"

Take that back! I haven't even gained a pebble. I'm simply more muscular since I've piloted all the new routines with the personal trainer.

Did you pilot them at the bakery? Because these three boulders of so-called muscle on your stomach is rather old-man-at-the-beach for my taste.

Taste, ha! Since when do you have—

Please, stop, said Virj, who couldn't control his tears anymore.

My baby!

We're here. We got you, said Viv, holding Virj’s shoulders.

Xax put the goodie tray within Virj's grasp. Despite his sadness, Virj felt he could eat. And maybe eat some more.

You tell Daddy Xax all about it, you poor thing. He stroked Virj's arm.

It's h-hard, Virj managed. I can't stop thinking about her. I dream about her, write about her, and dream some more. I hate going to work because she sits right beside me. Yet, I hate not going to work because then I won't get to see her. Why is this happening? Why can't I stop thinking about her every second? Of all the women in this galaxy for me to fall for, why did it have to be one half of a Dwa? That's got to be the most hopeless and pathetic romantic pursuit, ever.

Well, said Xax, munching on a pastry while Viv smirked at him munching on a pastry, you sure didn't make this the easiest love story. Boy loves girl. Girl doesn't notice boy. Girl already has another boy sharing the same body. Whoo! I don't even know how you get her a love note without him reading it.

I know. I'm a loser.

You're not a loser, said Viv. You feel like you’re in love. We don't always get to choose who we fall in love with. I mean, case in point. He waved his comb at Xax, who pretended to snarl, but returned a quick wink.

He’s right, look at us. We're both only sons of decorated generals, for pity’s sake. Everyone thought we’d follow in our fathers' footsteps but love had another plan and we launched a successful business. I wouldn't change how things turned out for anything, would you, Vivvy?

I'd change you eating yourself into an early grave, but that's about right. I'm going to take off enough, okay? Viv showed Virj how much hair he would cut.

That's fine. Did you guys really fight Gradylians? I heard they’re massive, with skin like solid rock. Doesn’t their militia bulldoze any vulnerable world they want to invade?

We did, they are, it tries, but Dragal always stops Gradyl from having its way, said Viv, snipping efficiently. When we say we're fierce, we're not talking fashion.

We might be a bit, snickered Xax, gulping down his tea. "But yeah, we can totally mess someone up if we want to. However, we are men of peace."

Virj could not hide the look on his face.

Xax laughed heartily. Deep in our hearts, we're men of peace, you cheeky thing. Now, about your lady, Virjie, don't beat yourself up over your feelings. Remember one thing, though. You can spend time in love, or waste time chasing love. Does she love you back? Does she go out of her way for you? Does she tell you she's unhappy with her partner? Or, are you wishing for something that simply isn't there? Because if you are, then you might miss an opportunity for someone else who'll love you back as intensely as you love her. I believe we all have a person. You need to make sure you don't overlook your person while pursuing someone else's person.

That's beautiful, said Viv. And I've found my person. Even if he is an overstuffed throw-pillow.

Hey! I happen to broadening in a distinguished, older-gentlemanly way.

You're totally distinguished, my love, and becoming more so with every bite.

That does it. I'm outta here. I don't need this. Just you try and run this place without me!

Virj stopped listening to them snipe at each other and let his mind wander while Viv continued to cut his hair. Was Frayda his person? Or were the Dwa born as each other's people? For better or for worse, was Jobie destined by genes and birth to be her only love? Virj supposed it made sense, in a way. He just had to tell his heart to stop beating for Frayda alone. Simple, right?

He moaned sadly, which led to yet another cry of concern from the men beside him, but gentler, less bone-crunching hugs.

It was nearly lunch when he stepped into the office. The place was a neat grid of bland cubicles, which contained the required electronics to get the job done, and employees who spoke in library tones. The hushed voices always sounded to Virj like a room full of people sharing secrets. He wondered if anyone knew his own, as he walked into the cube he shared with Frayda and Jobie.

They didn't see him at first, each fixed on their own computer monitor. Frayda was left handed and Jobie used the right, on their separate keyboards. They worked at a phenomenally fast pace. Virj couldn't type nearly as quickly as they did, even using both his hands.

He sat down quietly and watched them. Frayda's hair was upswept on the sides and flowed in ripples to her waist, like the moon reflected in water. He loved it, and ached to touch her.

Virj wondered how the Dwa decided what to wear each day. Jobie was a real man's man and Frayda was elegant and graceful. They didn't split their outfit down the middle, as some ignorantly assumed about their race. The design of their clothes seamlessly transitioned between one person to the next. Today they were wearing a simply tailored grey suit with slightly flared trousers, and a pastel purple shirt. Frayda's sleeve, which delicately protruded from her jacket, was ruffled with a hint of lace, while Jobie's was plain cut with an emerald cufflink. Virj remembered with a jealous pang that Frayda had given the piece of jewellery to her other half on their last birthday.

Jobie himself was a sight to behold. My stars, is he mortal? Xax had cried three years ago, when Virj singled out the Dwa. Jobie had rich, thick brown hair cut in wavy layers, touching his shoulders. Chiseled chin, fathomless blue eyes, and a voice that could turn me on, even when reading an obituary, said a former editor at PogMoTech. Virj hated him because he thought Jobie was a bully. Or a tosser. Maybe both.

Hey, there, you awake? Thank you for condescending to grace us with your presence, teased Frayda, while Jobie focused on his monitor. Virj felt a gentle hand on his arm and a million units of current jolted his loins.

I like your hair, she added, fluffing it up a bit. Did your dads style it for you?

Uh, yeah, I was downstairs.

Suits you.

Thanks. You know, they're not actually my dads, biologically.

Frayda smiled. Yes, I would have guessed.

Uh, no, I meant, uh—

Sometimes love goes far deeper than blood. It’s obvious they adore you. I noticed it right away when I met them. What I’d give for parents like that .  .  .

Her eyes were so full of warmth and gentleness; he thought he’d melt into a pool of green lava. You should go down for a cut, if you like. They're quite good at what they do, and I think you could use it.

Frayda self-consciously grasped a lock of her hair. Oh. I see.

What? No! I-I mean, you look terrific. You always look—I meant they'll fuss and pamper you, and I think you deserve—

Hey! I can't concentrate and I'm trying to proof my work. Would you guys knock it off? interjected Jobie. Anyway, we aren't wasting money on those overpriced reptiles downstairs. I might as well infect my bank account with a virus.

Jobie, that's his family!

Yeah, well, weird family to me. What kind of person wants to hang with two military men gone all powder-poofy?

You're being horribly cruel.

How am I being cruel? They're ridiculous. Gouging insecure women out of their wages, and for what? Some delusion of improved beauty? I'd like to know what they did to get out of the fighting. Who's ever heard of two male Draga warriors leaving battle to go play house with each other? I bet they were discharged for cowardice or playing with swatches while on duty. Something funny went on there, if you ask me.

"Yeah, well, WHO ASKED YOU?" shouted their little green colleague.

Frayda and Jobie were taken aback because Virj's voice had previously never been much above a whisper at the office, like the rest of the denizen. The muffled sounds around the department stopped and people peered over the tops of their cubicles to see what caused such a loud exclamation.

Virj breathed erratically and felt like he might pass out, but he was angry. No, he was livid. Nobody talked about his dads like that. Yes, they were his dads!

You have a problem, little man? asked Jobie. He made Frayda stand up to their full height, which towered over Virj, who remained seated.

There was so much Virj wanted to say. He wished he were taller, so he could look Jobie in the eye. He also wished his knees hadn't turn to jelly, preventing him from standing up.

"Xax and Viv are mighty warriors and they're a trillion times the person you are. They aren't cowards, you're the coward. They would never try to harass someone who was smaller and weaker." Virj trembled, but not from fear at what Jobie would do to him. Not all from it, anyway.

Virj, what's gotten into you? asked Frayda, worried for him because of the blazing eyes on the face right beside hers.

When I see a bug, I squish it, said Jobie, slamming his fist on the filing cabinet. Does that make me a coward?

No, but some bugs get in one last venomous bite before they meet their fate. Here's to hoping that happens!

Jobie dived towards Virj's desk. But in