Edgar Aeternum, Book 1: Tales of Aeternal Love (11 page)

Alex picked up where his brother left off,
"We've had a few really bad experiences. Once, here, we actually
had to call the authorities. The guy had a thing for twins and
wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. We even tried leaving, but the
asshole followed us." The young man's voice was showing a hint of
anger and his face was reddening slightly.

As if on telepathic cue, Aaron took over,
"That wasn't the last straw," he said. "He decided he was going to
show us how serious he was about us. He tried to tear off my
singlet. It was a bad idea." Edgar stood, transfixed by the tale.
It was readily apparent that the pair encountered more difficulties
than support from strangers. He felt at once both sad and
protective of the twins.

Aaron seemed to be at a loss for words so
Alex continued. "Gymnastics experience really helps when it comes
to learning martial arts, especially Aikido. The authorities had to
call emergency medical; I broke his fucking arm." This last wasn't
delivered with simple anger; it sizzled with the white-hot heat
that came only when one's love was threatened. Edgar understood
completely; it was normal, everyday behavior for Andros, this
fierce protectiveness. It didn't necessarily mean Alex and Aaron
were Andros; the reaction was fairly common, just more so for
Andros.

Edgar took the opening to respond, "I'm so
sorry. That's truly horrible; the prick deserved it. I'm surprised
no one helped; I know I would've kicked his ass if I'd been
there."

This was obviously not the reaction the twins
were expecting for some reason. They both looked a little
surprised. Aaron responded first, "Thank you, Edgar. You're a good
guy."

Alex agreed, "No kidding. Thanks, man!"

"My pleasure and thank you," Edgar replied.
"It's the honorable thing to do."

The brothers both nodded, but it was Aaron
who spoke, "You know, Edgar, if it's not too forward," he looked at
Alex, who nodded in silent confirmation, "we wouldn't mind getting
to know you. You can never have too many understanding friends."
They both smiled, waiting for an answer.

"I'd like that, guys," Edgar replied. "I
don't wear my earbuddy when I run, but if you have yours, I'll give
you my code and you can leave me a message. Maybe we can grab a
meal or something, soon."

Alex took the lead, "That'd be great, Edgar!
Go ahead when you're ready. Record code," Alex instructed his
earbuddy.

Edgar spoke his name and call code, "Edgar
Aeternum, Foxtrot-oh-oh-oh-seven."

"Got it," Alex said. "Heck, I could've
remembered that one on my own."

"Yeah, I got lucky," Edgar said. "Well, gotta
run, literally," he smiled. "It was great meeting you guys. Call me
and we'll set something up."

"Sounds great!" Aaron said.

"Will do!" added Alex. "Have a great run.
It's time for us to head home, too."

"Thanks! You guys have a great day!" Edgar
replied. The trio parted ways and Edgar resumed his run, happy to
have met a couple new friends. It was clear that the two faced some
challenges due to the nature of their relationship, even with the
freedoms of the 2-4. They seemed genuine and likeable, definitely
the kind of people Edgar liked as friends.

The rest of his run was uneventful; beautiful
weather, pleasant view and the rush of endorphins once he hit the
zone. As planned, he took a longer run and it was almost three as
he neared Highland House. He slowed from a run to a jog to a walk
and spent a few minutes stretching and cooling down.

Soon after, he was kicking of his shoes,
dropping his running shorts and heading for the shower. His body
was humming with endorphins and the feel of a great workout. Edgar
paused in front of the mirror, taking a moment to check himself
out. It was more a leftover habit from the time before he became
immortal than anything else. Back then, he kept a close eye on the
results of his physical activity, something that ceased being
necessary after immortality, as his body never changed.

He was naturally hairless, except for the
tight triangle at his groin and the tufts under his arms. He ran
his hands through his sweat-soaked hair, thankful once again that
he'd kept it at a medium length; it hadn't grown even a fraction of
an inch in the last 399 years. If he'd had it buzz cut, as many of
his friends had, it would've stayed that length forever. He'd
always preferred slightly longer hair, his own and others'.

When he finished his self-appraisal, he
stepped into the shower and asked the HC for a massaging pulse. He
stood, enjoying the pulsating blasts of hot water as they eased the
tension from his recently-worked muscles. Eventually, he had the HC
change it to a flow resembling a gentle rain and began lathering up
his tight body.

After he toweled dry, he padded out to the
kitchen, barefoot and naked, to grab a glass of water. He downed it
and refilled his glass before going to his desk. He settled into
his chair, checked the time and ordered an alarm for six-thirty;
he'd give the Ch'oran piece another three hours' work before
calling it a day. Edgar brought up the article he was reading
before his run, paused and asked the HC to play
Carmina
Burana
, one of his favorite operatic pieces. As the opening
notes of
O, Fortuna
came over the speakers, he stretched and
began reading.

Edgar was making notes on a particularly grim
assessment by the Ch'oran government of their chances of stopping
the disease when the alarm chimed. He silenced it and finished his
notes before stretching and heading to the window. The day was
still beautiful, Gridley Park full of early evening joggers and
picnickers. The sight of others eating was all it took to wake up
Edgar's stomach, which began rumbling in protest that it was not
being fed.

He threw together a quick meal, a thick
roast-beef sandwich and a huge bowl of vegetable soup. Half an hour
later, his stomach was happy and silent. At loose ends for the
evening, he walked back to the window, staring out at Gridley; dusk
was descending and the Park's lights were blinking on like small
stars. Far off in the distance, Navea's lights were also coming
online.

Edgar pondered going back to his research,
but the thought made him cringe. He'd reached a particularly
depressing section; the Ch'oran government had begun contingency
planning in case the Thraxian assistance proved ineffective. The
plan, it seemed, was to launch an Omega bomb from the planetary
defense grid and eradicate the city. Omega was a nasty, but
efficient tool; the lethal energy had an extremely short half-life,
three days, and left nothing behind. Life, buildings, everything
would simply cease to be as the lethal energy pulse broke every
atomic bond in the city. There would be a blinding flash, intense
heat and then... nothing. It would be as though the city had never
existed.

Edgar found this too depressing to
contemplate, especially after spending the better part of the day
pouring over tales of the tragic outbreak. Further adding to his
grim mood were two sad and terrifying facts; one, the Ch'oran in
the city would accept their Queen's decision without protest,
knowing it was for the greater good and two, the sheer lethality of
an Omega bomb. Not only was it the most destructive energy
currently known, it was the most controllable source of destruction
available.

Omega-generating devices kept the energy on a
tight leash; a good thing, as a runaway Omega pulse could destroy
an entire planet. However, the leash was so tight, the control so
precise, that the engineers operating the defense grid could
program the pulse to the exact configuration of the area in
question. No radioactive cloud to be blown on errant winds, no
spill-over; if the bomb was programmed to wipe out an area of one
hundred square miles, that area, and no more, was wiped out.
Likewise, if the area in question was only one city block.

That such precise killing power existed both
intrigued and frightened Edgar. Over almost five centuries, he'd
seen a great many of humanity's cruelties and some of those of the
alien races. On one hand, Omega energy did away with collateral
damage and environmental ruin; on the other, it was once used as a
tool for ethnic cleansing on a far-away world that eventually sent
itself to extinction in seemingly never-ending war.

Edgar shuddered at the thought. He needed to
get out of the apartment, forget all this grim news and be around
people. He immediately thought of Hermes. It was a men's club
offering various entertainments to its members, from broadcast
sporting events to games, gambling and an area devoted to more
carnal pursuits. Edgar's cock twitched a little at the thought. He
was still horned up from his initial thoughts of the twins and a
trip to Hermes sounded perfect.

He found his thoughts drifting to Maddox as
he headed to the walk in closet. Once again, he wished the younger
man was free tonight. Ever the pragmatist, Edgar found no problem
with wanting Maddi but going to Hermes. As an Andro, Edgar was able
to comfortably separate sex and emotion; despite his burgeoning
interest in Maddi, they hadn't even had their first date and
neither owed the other anything, much less fidelity, at this point.
The few times Edgar had become emotionally involved with someone,
he'd stopped all other exploits, preferring monogamy. It was way
too soon to even think about that with Maddi, though, so Edgar
focused instead on prepping for Hermes. As he rifled through rows
of hanging clothes searching for something to wear, the HC
announced an incoming call from Wizzer. Edgar abandoned his search
and sprawled out on the bed, telling the HC to put through the
call.

"Wiz! How are you?" Edgar said.

"I'm great, man; you?" the reedy voice
replied. "Got your message earlier but I was travelling."

Edgar smiled. Travelling for Wizzer likely
meant sitting naked in his living room spaced out of his mind on
phoraz, a designer drug that made LSD seem like an additive for
Girl Scout cookies. Edgar tried it once, with Wiz, but found the
resulting trip too intense for his liking. Wizzer swore by the
stuff, claiming it enabled him to touch the essence of the
Universe, capital U.

"That's cool, Wiz. I'm good. Thought you
might like to know I'm trying to set up a date with Maddox," Edgar
said, steeling himself for Wiz' reaction.

He wasn't at all surprised when the man's
voice rose even higher as he practically squealed, "Edgar! I'm
soooo happy for you! Maddi's a great kid, smart as a whip, hot as
hell itself and has a lot of drive to make a good life for himself!
I just knew you guys would hit it off! This is so exciting! I knew
I was taking a chance giving out your comm ID, but I just had to;
it felt so right. Who am I to stand in the way of destiny,
y'know?"

Edgar waited until Wiz finished gushing.
Everything with Wizzer was always over the top; in his mind, he
probably had Maddi and Edgar married already. When he was sure his
friend wasn't going to spin off again, he said, "Yeah, I'm
intrigued; he seems like a great guy. Let's not go ring shopping
just yet though, OK? I don't know dick about destiny, but I am
looking forward to a date. You really should ask before giving out
my caller ID, though. There are a lot of whackos out there. Hell, I
just beat a claim at Altair Legal that I practically raped a woman
I've never even met."

"I know, I
know
," Wiz sounded like a
scolded child. "Sorry to hear about the Legal thing, but I know
Maddi's a good soul; he'd
never
cause any trouble."

Ah shit! He's in one of his sensitive moods.
I better do damage control quick or he's gonna start crying and
I'll have to spend my evening talking him down."

"Wiz, Wiz, calm down, man, Edgar said in a
gentle tone." It's OK. Turns out, I agree with you about Maddi. But
it could just as easily have gone wrong. You're a good friend,
thinking of me like you do."

"Really?" Wizzer replied. "I only meant to do
a
good
thing. I
promise
I'll be more careful.
Honest!"

Edgar sighed. It looked like the crisis was
averted. Wizzer really was a terrific friend, but sometimes he
could be a bit high maintenance. "Really," he assured Wizzer. "I
wouldn't lie to you, buddy."

"Yay!" came the response, accompanied by the
sound of lightly clapping hands. Edgar grinned and shook his head.
For a man with an IQ at the genius level, Wizzer was almost
childlike at times. Edgar actually found it an endearing trait. "So
you'll call me and tell me all about it, right?"

"Of course I will," Edgar said. "So what's
new with you?"

"My
problem
client finally made up his
mind on the color scheme! It
only
took him three weeks and
about forty changes! He went with Rome. The man is a
total
drama queen. If he spent as much time on important matters as he
does flitting around meddling in other people's business, his damn
house would've been done by now.
Honestly!
" Wiz was, as he
put it, a lifestyle experience designer. His clients' requests
ranged from whole home interior design to temporarily transforming
a given space into an exciting new world for special events. The
only common denominator his clients had was money. Lots and lots
of, apparently, disposable income; Wiz' eclectic services cost
almost as much per hour as a top-class barrister and the wait list
for his talent was three months, minimum. However, Edgar knew Wiz'
work and thought the spritely little elf was worth every
credit.

Edgar sympathized with Wizzer on this
particular client, though. The man was impossible. A retired
psychiatrist, he had to analyze every single detail of the design
process to ensure it would have the right psychological impact not
only on himself, but his visitors. In the two months Wiz was
working with Dr. Dumbass, as he privately called the man, the only
things he'd accomplished were choosing a style (neo-Classical
Thraxian) and a color scheme (autumn in ancient Rome). Try as he
may, Edgar couldn't wrap his head around the choices, especially
since Thraxus had but one season: Perfect summer.