Page 62 of Privilege

“I was at the Forge. I have a friend there.” I wonder to myself who I’m talking about. Zeph? Vale? “And yeah,” I add as Eli opens his mouth, presumably to tell me how bad and dangerous the Forge is, “I know how bad and dangerous they are.”

Eli settles a little, deflated. Now he stares at me curiously, cocking his head. “This is your first time out of the PS, right?”

“Yeah,” I agree.

“Eli,” Moira mutters. “Asparagus.”

He turns back to washing and breaking the ends off the asparagus but continues, “I’ve never been there.”

“And be glad you haven’t,” Ren shouts from the other room.

Eli shakes his head. “I don’t agree with everything they’ve done, but at least they’ve set up a system with an eye to universal.”

“Because they deport everyone who disagrees with them!” Ren pipes up again.

“Is forcible relocation the only way to establish a society without conflict?” Eli muses. “Or do you need to plan for some amount of conflict inherent in our imperfect biology, and build a system able to withstand the naturally occurring aggressive impulses?”

“Now you sound like Vale,” I tell him. “With that biology stuff.”

Eli thinks about that.

“Less philosophizing, more chopping,” Moira directs again.

“Listen to my girlfriend,” Ren shouts from the other room. A little harried now, Eli continues breaking the ends off the asparagus while Moira dumps a bag of dried pasta into bubbling water.

“Putting the pasta in,” she calls to Ren.

“Okay, I’ll be there in a minute,” Ren says back. They’re so domestic, it’s sweet.

“Is Qilan here? Should I call her?” I ask.

“No, she’s down at the Dena’ina library, she won’t be back until later. Just us tonight.”

I pry open the last few pods, waiting to see if Eli’s got more to say about the Peaceful Society or the Forge, but he’s quiet now, staring thoughtfully at the asparagus as he finishes up and then works on grating cheese.

We end up eating out on the front porch, which has a few pieces of dumpy furniture shoved into the corners, since the table was covered with pictures and knickknacks from the living room.

The meal, bowls of pasta with vegetables and sauce and cheese, is delicious. It’s sweet to hear Moira quietly thanking Ren for painting and Eli chiming in.

“Oh, you know, I need something to do with my hands when I’m not writing. How’s the mural shaping up?” Ren asks.

It turns out Moira’s working on the design for a mural she’s going to paint at the market. “They’re not paying me exactly.” She’s embarrassed. “But they’ll buy the paint for it.”

“It’s a good gig,” Ren says. “Moira was chosen from a dozen painters to do it.”

I smile at the pride in Ren’s voice.

“I can’t wait to see it,” I tell them.

“Oh, you’ll probably get to help,” Eli chuckles. “When Moira’s working on a big project we all end up covered in paint.”

Moira is affronted. “You like helping! You say manual labor is the religion of the righteous worker.”

They both laugh. “That’s the only reason I help,” Ren jokes.

“Not true.” Moira digs her elbow into Ren’s side.

“Okay, that and the paint fumes,” Ren says, taking a deep breath.

I cringe. “You should wear a mask in there.”

“Thank you!” Moira says to me loudly and Ren looks a little guilty.

We sit out after dinner while the sun is still bright, even as it gradually sinks in the sky. The nights don’t get fully dark here, just sort of twilight-y, so it’s still pretty light out when I start to yawn.

I’m thinking of heading inside when I feel the others fall quiet rapidly and stiffen. There’s someone approaching, peeling off from the street and coming up the walk, wearing dark camo like the men at the Forge with a hat pulled low over his eyes.

I tense. Glancing around, the man pulls the hat off and glances up at the porch, directly at me. He’s got red hair and pale skin with freckles, even more freckles than I do. It’s Zeph.

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