Kauoha

Steel support beams cut the sky into triangular vignettes, baby blue with cotton wisps of cloud. Sea birds flew with their beaks spread, their calls cut off from the recreation yard by a dome of glass that, according to the contractors in charge of Kauoha Penitentiary’s upkeep, was harder than a diamond. Ahl Doal stood beside a guard, one of the many that lined the inner wall of the yard. The guard must have been new, as Ahl Doal didn’t recognize him. The man was human, and like many species, he stood several feet shorter than Ahl Doal. Ahl Doal stood with his hands clasped behind him. His arms were stick-thin and unnaturally long, and his legs were of a similar proportion. He kept his back straight and his eyes forward. His thin lips were compressed into a precise scowl (not too aggressive, but enough to show casual dominance). His eyes were lidded to a calculated angle. This wasn’t as hard as it used to be

Ahl Doal watched the prisoners as they played games like chess and volleyball. A well-muscled man with the curled horns and furry legs of a satyr leaped into the air and spiked the bright-red ball. It hit the ground on his opponents’ side of the net with a resonant bomf that rang around the yard.
“It’s kind of like getting front row seats at a match, huh, sir?” the guard said.
Surprised, Ahl Doal looked down at the man.
“What?” he asked.
“The volleyball game. It’s, uh… pretty intense, right?” the guard said, his hands tightening their grip on his belt.

Ahl Doal didn’t know what to say. The guards never talked to him; not casually, anyway. To them, he was their boss, a distant figure to be feared and respected. That’s what Miss Ainsley said he needed to be. The guard’s blue eyes flicked up and widened. Ahl Doal knew that the black smoke which perpetually rose from his eyes had thickened in response to his agitation. He needed to get out of there. Go somewhere to calm down. He spun on his heel, sending the smog swirling into lazy eddies that drifted to the top of the dome, where a large fan ushered it into a series of vents.

“You can handle the prisoner count without me,” Ahl Doal said in a curt tone that masked his frazzled nerves. Before the man could respond, Ahl Doal walked away at a clip, back into the main cellhouse. The echoed sounds of his steps curled around the bars of cells that were stacked on top of each other, floor after floor of cramped little boxes. The room’s fluorescent lights washed out his already deathly pale blue-green skin. Stark shadows hugged his sharp cheekbones and square jaw.

The cells were empty. They would be until the rest period was over, and the prisoners were herded back to their assigned jobs. The clock was God at Kauoha. Guards forced the once-erratic lives of prisoners into a harsh, linear order. Ahl Doal had lived in the island prison since he was “born”, and the routine had been pounded into his brain. He imagined that, if someone hollowed out his head, they would see a list of times and cell blocks stamped onto the inside of his skull.

There were occasional exceptions to the unrelenting structure. Today included one of them, and if he was generous with himself, he could believe that it was what had caused him to panic at a guard’s simple statement. He pushed through the final set of doors and exited the main cellhouse. He consciously corrected his posture. He pretended a string was holding him up like a gangly marionette, and his short spine was a wood plank that couldn’t slouch if it tried. He could feel the sting of sun-heated pavement through his black bodysuit. An oceanic breeze provided a pleasant counterpoint, flowing over his smooth, hairless skin like water over the scales of a fish.

Ahl Doal passed a few clumps of patrolling guards as he made his way to the management block. While many passed with their eyes cast unrelentingly forward, some greeted Ahl Doal, calling him “warden” or “sir”. He didn’t correct them; he wasn’t allowed to. He was going to meet the real warden, and she held as much power over him as she did over any prisoner. The air cooled when he reached the management block, cutting off the sounds and smells of the small Hawaiian island. They were replaced by a muffled cacophony of ringing phones (whose outdated chimes were round and tinny) and clicking keyboards.

Ahl Doal cut through the dystopia of white-collared order to the second section of the building. It began at a large, black door. The sort of thing the hero had to get through before they could face the villain. He leaned down to let the machine scan his eye. An invisible light rolled over the ink-black orb and captured the tiny details of his ice-blue corneas, and even lighter blue retinas. A small, discrete light beside the aperture blinked green, and Ahl Doal pushed through the door, closing it behind him. Thinking of what waited for him beyond that door, it felt like someone had reached through his ribs and grabbed his heart, and didn’t want to let go.

With Ahl Doal’s long strides, it didn’t take him long to reach Miss Ainsley’s office. Another eye scan opened the door. He pushed back the chair that sat before an expansive mahogany desk. The room’s ceiling fan ticked an even, mechanical melody as he sat in the respectable, gray room and waited for Miss Ainsley. He didn’t have to wait long.

Ahl Doal’s slouched posture shot to attention when the door behind him clicked open, and Miss Ainsley’s voice shot through the silence.
“Well that idiot can tell his client it’s not going to change anything,” she said in her crisp, authoritative voice. Ahl Doal didn’t dare look around, but he guessed she was talking on the phone. “It’s too late in the game,” she continued, “he’s getting the injection.” There was a pause. “I don’t care what he claims it is,” she continued hotly, “he ends up dead either way. Tell him we’d be happy to shoot his client in the head if he thinks that’ll be more painless. It’ll cost us less, anyway.” Ahl Doal heard the small beep that meant she’d hung up. He tugged at the pink feathers of his loose, fluffy collar.

After a moment of tense silence, Ahl Doal heard Miss Ainsley sigh behind him. Her heels clacked smartly on the ground as she passed by him and sat in the cushy, black swivel chair behind that ominous desk of hers. Ahl Doal dared to look up. Miss Ainsley was like fire in a bottle. She leaned forward on her elbows with her fingers interlocked. Her hands were raised to her face and concealed her mouth, as well as most of the square jaw that rested beneath it. Short-cut red hair bobbed at her chin. She wore a black jacket and pencil skirt, as well as a shirt the color of bleached bone. A star ruby necklace hung from a golden chain on her neck, and she wore earrings of a matching style.

“You’re early,” she said, “shouldn’t you be making your rounds right about now? Looking respectable and important?”

Ahl Doal expected her to barrel on, merely using the question as a setup, but she just leveled her appraising gaze on him.
“Th-there wasn’t much for me to do,” said Ahl Doal, fidgeting in his chair. “The guards had everything under control. Everything was normal.”
“So you didn’t come back here to sulk?” she asked in an icily indifferent tone.
Ahl Doal looked away. Unconsciously, his hand wandered to his collar, and he once more plucked at the soft, pink feathers. Miss Ainsley sighed again.
“I just came in here to look at some papers,” she said, “but if you’re here, we might as well have this discussion now.”

Miss Ainsley lowered her hands, revealing ruddy brown lipstick that didn’t do anything to soften the severe line her mouth was compressed to.
“I’ve been talking with Cavanaugh,” she began.

Ahl Doal winced. Mister Cavanaugh was his tutor, and the only person he could really consider a friend. He was a kind older man with hazel eyes and a moustache like an old broom. He’d been the one to convince Miss Ainsley that she should think of Ahl Doal as the twelve-year-old boy he really was, rather than the fully-grown man his body was determined to convince the world of. But therein lay the problem. Whenever either Miss Ainsley or Mister Cavanaugh mentioned the other, it was in the context of an argument. Ahl Doal could only hope that Mister Cavanaugh had come out on top this time.

“I’ve taken note of your falling grades,” Miss Ainsley said. Ahl Doal’s stomach began to roil, the stress he’d been under culminating in a burning sting. He’d hoped she wouldn’t notice.

“When I asked Cavanaugh for the specifics of the situation, he said he’s been worried about your emotional wellbeing.” The way Miss Ainsley bit those words, it was clear what she thought of that.

“You’ve lived here your whole life, but now suddenly it’s a problem?” she said. Her distant eyes and low, crunching tone signaled that she was talking more to herself than to him.

“I suppose you’re about the age where things get difficult,” Miss Ainsley continued, still looking introspective. “But honestly, I didn’t think I’d have to worry about puberty. It’s not like they made you to be able to reproduce.”

Ahl Doal’s long, spidery hands clenched in his lap. He didn’t like thinking about that. He didn’t like thinking about how he was custom-made in a lab, how he was the only member of a new species that was just… slapped together.

Luckily, Miss Ainsley moved on.

“But I suppose there’s nothing I can do about that,” she said in a sigh, “what I can do is get you back on track.” She studied Ahl Doal like he was something she’d ordered in the mail, only to discover it had been broken along the way.
“You do understand why this is important, right?” she asked.
“I need to look strong,” Ahl Doal replied instantly, like he’d been given a pop quiz. For all he knew, he had.
“That’s close,” Miss Ainsley said, a hint of acceptance entering her hard voice. “That’s how it started, anyway. But now you need to learn to be strong. That means being clever, well-rounded, and stubborn.”

Ahl Doal felt the weight of her expectations building with each word she said, like he was the base for the grand mansion she meant to shape him into, and she was dropping bricks onto his back as she spoke.
“You’re going to get into a lot of arguments when you succeed me in truth,” Miss Ainsley said, “and you’re going to need to fight for what’s best for Kauoha. And with the power we have locked up here, it’s also what’s best for the entire country, and likely the world.”
Miss Ainsley leaned forward and hissed, “but you can’t do that if you’re going to slack off.”
The fledgling pride that had begun building within Ahl Doal was crushed in an instant. He looked down, his shame overtaking his fear. He was such an idiot. He’d been pouting like a little kid, only thinking about himself. He knew he had to be better than that.
Miss Ainsley leaned back in her chair again, looking annoyed yet satisfied.
“You look like you understand. But I know you’ll just go back into whatever slump it is you’re in if I don’t do something. So, at Cavanaugh’s suggestion, and against my better judgement… I’m letting you meet my daughter.”

Ahl Doal almost jumped out of his chair.
“Wh-what?” he stammered, not sure he’d heard her correctly.
“This Sunday,” Miss Ainsley clarified. “Cavanaugh said you’re starved for sentient contact, and that guards and prisoners don’t count. This is making you listless and apathetic. Don’t try to deny it,” she said when Ahl Doal opened his mouth to protest, “I’ve seen the way you’ve been sulking around the place. But not to worry.” She straightened, looking like a lioness watching her cub make its first kill, “Artemis already knows our secret. She’s a bright girl, and I can trust her with anything; she’s my own flesh and blood.”

-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-

The fresh, salty smells of the ocean swirled around Artemis. The way her braid of fox-red hair flailed behind her made her glad she’d tied it back. It would have been hell to comb out later if she hadn’t. She glanced at the seat beside her, where her mother sat with her eyes closed. She usually left for work earlier, before the sun came out, but she’d waited today in order to bring Artemis with her. Looking into the water off the side of the prison-owned speedboat, Artemis saw colorful mermaids leaping above the waves that her vessel left surging in its wake. Water cascaded off of the beautiful creatures in glittering beads. They bore the same colorful scales as the tropical fish they resembled, but the flash of a smile full of sharp teeth had Artemis shrinking back into her seat. Artemis and her mother were heading toward the prison island of Kauoha, and the mermaids who swam these waters were its most fearsome guards.

Kauoha Penitentiary’s massive stone-and-steel facilities seemed to rise out of the ocean as the boat neared the prison island. Artemis rubbed her arm, feeling the goosebumps on her skin. If anyone asked, she would have said it was from the chill of the swift ocean breeze. While that was a contributing factor, she had to admit to herself that the idea of visiting Kauoha was on the scary side of imposing.

Artemis had been there before, of course. She and her mother lived on the Hawaiian island of Oahu. Kauoha was a small island off the coast of Oahu, and was just visible in the distance if you looked from the right beach. Artemis had gone with her mother to the high-tech, maximum-security facility only a handful of times in her life. Only the most dangerous of criminals were sent to Kauoha. It would make anyone uneasy.

Gulls squealed overhead as Artemis followed her mother off the small boat, onto the worn, warped wood of the dock. A pair of guards were waiting for them, a man and a woman. They wore slate-gray shirts with their names sewn onto the right breast pocket; Dianne Pincher and Bruce Lockley. Their pants were unfitted and black, and the folds of their clothing looked as straight and square as the officers themselves.

At first, Artemis thought that both of the guards were human. A closer inspection, however, revealed the difference in their species. The male guard was a short, stocky black man with a strong jaw that was at odds with his youthful face. He was a type of handsome that made Artemis’ heart flutter slightly, despite the difference of their ages. The female guard was much taller; as tall as a man, actually. She had an hourglass figure that showed even through the confining straightness of her uniform. Her stance had a casual gracefulness, and her face and hands looked almost as delicate as a china doll’s. Her short-cut hair revealed pointed ears that proved, beyond a doubt, she was an elf.

“Good morning, Miss Ainsley,” said the male guard, Bruce, giving her a curt nod.
“Yes,” the warden replied vaguely. She breezed past the man, obviously not giving his greeting a second thought.
“Come on, Artemis, dear,” she said.

Artemis followed her mother, though she forced her gait to a lengthy, casual stride. Enough to keep up with her mother, but not enough to look like a baby duck tripping over its own feet to stay in line. The wind caught the fabric of Artemis’ loose, sheer summer dress as she walked. The cloth was a pale, sunny color. The thigh-length hem, however, was wreathed in an intricate pattern of black lace. The same interlocking complexity was reflected in a necklace of black beads, whose centerpiece was a teardrop shaped, honey-yellow glass gem. This was a style that Artemis had cultivated over the years. Lively yet regally mature; she liked to call it “sun goth.”

The gray-clad guards fell into step behind Artemis and her mother as they made their way toward the interior of the island. The side they had entered from was oriented more toward the officers than the prisoners. Lively island plants were surrounded on all sides by the hard grays and blacks of man-made surfaces. The island’s stone and metal buildings were largely monochrome, though the uniformity of their colors seemed to have dulled over the years from exposure to sun and briny storms. Occasional watchtowers poked above the other buildings, and as Artemis made her way along the upward-slanting path to the holding facilities, she noticed that their roofs had been fitted with solar panels. Their mirrored surfaces shone with the harsh gleam of reflected sunlight.

The building Artemis followed her mother into looked more like a school or a hospital than a prison. It had off-white walls and fluorescent lights that flickered along sterile hallways. The undecorated doors were a dark, stony green, some with small windows that looked in on the occupants. She caught flashes of white-and-black clad figures as she passed. Some wore intensely focused expressions as they stared at blindingly uninteresting screens, others were partaking in lively phone conversations that seemed to flow together in the confined spaces. Some workers were so hunched that their wrinkled office attire threatened to swallow them whole.

Artemis’ mother lead her through a number of doors sealed with cards and codes. At a final door, which had to be opened with a scan of her mother’s eye, the two guards that had escorted them this far hung back, lost from sight when the door closed. They must not have been of a high enough rank to get into this part of the prison’s facilities. Artemis followed her mother up a flight of stairs. Through the barrier, locked from the sight of low-level staff and visitors, the building’s décor shed its façade of bland unimportance. The walls morphed from dirty white to a pleasing, cool gray. The lights radiated a calm aura of daylight that replaced the harsh buzz of the fluorescent bulbs which had populated the ceilings up to that point.

Artemis’ mother stopped and turned to her. She wore a small smile that, while genuine, looked vaguely imperious. Artemis wanted to sigh. She loved her mother, but damn if the woman didn’t radiate an aura of superiority 24/7. Artemis shot back a smile too, a sort of I can take care of myself but thank you graciously for your concern sort of look. Between Artemis and her mother, deeply loaded expressions and gestures had become a second language.

Artemis’ mother pulled her sleek, black smartphone out of her suitcoat’s pocket and tapped it with a neatly trimmed but unpolished nail.
“Remember,” she said, “if you need anything, just give me a text. I may be a busy woman, but I’m not too busy for my little girl.”
“Mom, I’ll be fine,” Artemis said, her face heating. Thank god the guards hadn’t followed them in here. Especially the hot one.

Honestly, though, Artemis wasn’t totally sure she would be fine. Her nerves had settled considerably since she’d entered the staff-only building, but she was going to meet Ahl Doal. She’d seen the guy… thing in person a few times, when her mother had brought her to events. He always stood behind her like the villain in a horror movie, creepily silent unless he was giving a speech.

Artemis’ concern must have shown on her face, because her mother gently grasped her hands and gave her an earnest expression.
“Of course you will be,” she said. “No one in this prison will ever hurt you. And if they try, I’ll have them put to death.”
Artemis gave a small snort of laughter at that, though she knew her mother wasn’t kidding.

Artemis followed her mother up a wide set of stairs. When she reached the top, her breath caught. Ahl Doal was waiting for them. His expression was cold as he looked down at them. He had his hands clasped behind him, but his unnatural anatomy (a torso shorter than a human’s, mixed with legs that more than made up for it) allowed Artemis to see his spidery fists through the gap between his stick-thin legs. Frankly, it was a creepy sight. There were plenty of different sentient species, all with their own unique appearances, but none of them looked quite so much like a corpse that had been put in a taffy puller.

“Hello, Ainsley,” Ahl Doal said. His voice was low and smooth, with a reverberant power behind it.
“Oh, stop it,” Artemis’ mother snapped. “I told you, you don’t need to keep up the act in front of Artemis. She’s my daughter.”
“O-oh,” Ahl Doal stammered, taking a small step back. His voice was still low and smooth, but it had lost the cold confidence it had held a moment before. He looked at his feet; he had two toes that ended in claws, covered by the same black bodysuit as the rest of him. It was surreal to watch this figure, who always seemed so sure and powerful when he appeared in public, cowed so easily. Then again, Artemis’ mother could be an intimidating, and frankly frightening, woman.

When Artemis’ mother turned to her, her face still held the fierce, unforgiving expression that she must have been directing at Ahl Doal. Artemis only caught a glimpse of it, as it immediately softened into the stern-yet-kind one she was familiar with.
“There, see?” Artemis’ mother cooed, “despite my best efforts to make him appear frightening, when you get down to it, he’s putty so long as you don’t let him forget who’s in charge.”

Behind her mother, Artemis noticed Ahl Doal’s frown deepen. He might as well not have existed; Artemis’ mother kept her expectant smile trained on her daughter. Artemis forced a confident smile back.
“No problem,” she said. Before she could protest, her mother pulled her into a swift embrace. It was over before Artemis could even put up an indignant struggle, and her mother stepped back.
“Well, I’ve got a prison to run. But remember,” she held up her phone with a significant look at her daughter, “anytime.”
With that, she was off. Her heels clacked to the businesslike rhythm of her motion as she walked back down the stairs, and back into the sterile labyrinth of offices.

Artemis looked back to Ahl Doal. He was staring after Artemis’ mother with a lost look on his face.
“Sooooo,” Artemis said, clapping her arms against her sides, “you… wanted to see me?”
Ahl Doal gave her what she thought was a look of pure panic.
“Um, well, yes, but…” he cast his eyes sideways and ran his hand along the back of his oddly long neck.

Artemis waited for him to continue. She couldn’t help but clasp her arms over her chest as she noticed the creepy smoke billowing from his eyes thicken.
“But?” she prompted, her nerves making her snappish.

Ahl Doal winced, then stammered, “b-but, um… but nothing! Never mind! Follow me.”
He whipped around and walked down the hall. Artemis hurried after him. His legs were stupidly long, and she had to hurry to keep up. He occasionally looked around as he walked, as if to make sure she was still following.

As Artemis followed Ahl Doal, she pondered something that had been nagging at her about this whole situation. Before they’d left, Artemis’ mother had reminded Artemis about something she’d told her about one year ago. According to her mother, Ahl Doal was nothing more than a twelve-year-old boy inside the body of a full-grown monster. She said that he’d been made in a lab to control the population of the world’s most dangerous prison, and make the public feel more assured about the monsters (both figurative and literal) held within.

Artemis’ mother had told her that she was placing great trust in the then-fifteen-year-old young woman by telling her this. Despite Artemis’ proudly cultivated willfulness, she wasn’t planning on breaking that trust. Not that she’d believed her mother, anyway. But now, with this blatant show of nervous submission, she wasn’t so sure.
Ahl Doal stopped in front of one of the few doors that lined the expansive hallway. He stood there for a long moment, his back turned to her. He whipped around again, and Artemis jumped back like a startled cat. Still, although he was facing her, he didn’t bring his eyes to meet hers.

“Uh,” he began hesitantly, “do you want to open the door?”
Artemis blinked. That was a question she’d never heard before.
“Um, sure?” she said.
Ahl Doal hurriedly stepped aside. Artemis gave him a suspicious look, then opened the door. Ahl Doal followed her inside. Artemis flinched when she heard the door close behind her. She didn’t want to be trapped in a room with that smoke-spewing weirdo, no matter what her mother said about him being… putty, or whatever. She quickly composed herself, however, and turned to face him with a blank look. She was in control of herself. She was not going to be a flighty idiot.

-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-

“Well?” Artemis demanded, her arms folded over her chest, “is this it?”
Ahl Doal winced. He could already tell Miss Ainsley’s daughter didn’t like him. He’d always hoped that, if he ever got to talk to Artemis, she might see him as a brother. He knew he shouldn’t have expected it, though.
“Yes,” Ahl Doal said, “these are my rooms.”

He turned and walked over to one of the four doors lining the walls of the blank entryway, then turned to give Artemis a sheepishly expectant look. A few moments ago, he’d wrestled with whether or not to open the door for Artemis. She was a girl, and he’d heard somewhere that it was polite to hold doors open for girls. He’d asked Mister Cavanaugh about it, and he said that it was the traditionally polite thing to do. He’d added, however, that Miss Ainsley and her daughter were very proud, and they might not appreciate him doing something for them that they could easily do on their own. In the end, Ahl Doal had decided to ask Artemis what she wanted herself. He’d thought it had gone well, but her exaggerated eye roll as she approached him and opened the door made him think that maybe she hadn’t appreciated it so much after all.

Ahl Doal followed Artemis into his recreation room. A few game consoles were clustered around a sizable, modern-looking TV. There was a black desk piled with loosely-organized books and papers, a desktop computer, and a novelty lamp that looked like one of the enemy monsters from the Gunmancer Fate series. There were a number of posters on the wall, depicting characters from some of Ahl Doal’s favorite games and movies. Some of the posters depicted women that he knew were considered “sexy”, but he didn’t really understand the appeal of it. He just liked them because they looked cool and badass, and usually had really awesome-looking weapons.

Artemis stared at one such poster with a curled lip. She was obviously upset, but Ahl Doal didn’t understand why. He tried to repress a shudder. Like her mother, Artemis reminded Ahl Doal of a grumpy tigress, and he definitely did not want to upset her. Now that he thought of it, Miss Ainsley had looked at those posters like that too. He needed to distract the freckly, red-headed teen before she yelled at him.

“You can sit down, if you want,” Ahl Doal said. Artemis looked at him, then at the plush spinny-chair that stood behind his desk. There was only one chair in the room. Ahl Doal never had guests. Thinking quickly, he took a few long strides to the far wall, and sat with his back against it, his legs bent and drawn up like spider’s limbs. He didn’t want Artemis to feel like he wanted the chair. He was fine with sitting on the floor.

Artemis stared at him for a few moments before taking her place in the chair. She looked around, then leaned back and propped her feet on the table, one leg crossed over the other. The silence stretched for an uncomfortably long time. Eventually, Artemis retrieved a phone from a loose pocket on her dress that Ahl Doal hadn’t even noticed was there. It was a modern-looking smartphone with a colorful case. Through Artemis’ fingers, Ahl Doal could make out a character he recognized from the anime Zodiac Ghost Panic.
“So,” Artemis said, not looking up from the tiny screen, “why’s your floor pink? I get the gray walls, but I kinda figured everything you owned would be more,” her eyes flicked to his, “ominous.”
Ahl Doal looked away nervously.
“It’s my favorite color,” he said meekly, plucking at the feathers of his equally-pink collar. “I know it’s weird for a boy, but… I’m pretty weird anyway, y’know?”
Ahl Doal had hoped Artemis would laugh at that, but she just fixed him with a surprisingly intense stare. It didn’t take long for her to return to her phone, but when she spoke again, she sounded markedly more invested in the conversation.
“You shouldn’t believe crap like that,” she said. “A lot of gender roles are stupid and archaic.”
She glanced briefly at the poster she’d glared at before, “especially ones that make you feel like you have to be something you’re not.”
Ahl Doal didn’t know what a “gender role” was, but worried that asking might offend Artemis now that she was finally willing to talk to him about something, so he just said,
“Okay.”

Silence once more choked the room. Several minutes passed (or they could have been seconds, for how long time seemed to be dragging on) before Artemis said,
“So you’re really a kid, huh?”
Ahl Doal looked up, confused.
“Yes,” he said, “I thought Miss Ainsley told you.”
Artemis frowned. She leaned forward and placed her phone face-down on the desk. She leaned back once more, her hands steepled over her belly.
“She did,” the red-headed teen said, “but I didn’t believe her. You’re pretty good at acting like an adult.”
“Not really,” said Ahl Doal, rubbing the side of his long neck. “Miss Ainsley tells me what to say. I think how I look takes care of the rest.”
Artemis nodded.
“Were you really made in a lab?” she asked.

Ahl Doal looked down. He really didn’t like thinking about that. He held his long-fingered hands unconsciously over his too-narrow chest and concave middle. It would be one thing if he could live like any other person, but he’d known for a long time that there was something wrong with him. He couldn’t stop the fear-inducing smoke that rose from his eyes and affected whoever breathed it in, whether he wanted it to or not. He could barely eat anything without it making him sick, usually resulting in him vomiting it back up. He was extremely weak, unable to lift things that others looked like they could carry for miles. On top of it all, he was fragile enough that he might as well be of glass. He’d broken bones from falling the wrong way.

“Sorry,” Artemis said, causing Ahl Doal to jump. When he looked back to her, she was no longer in a relaxed position, but leaning forward with her arms on the desk. She wore an expression that he never would have thought any Ainsley could make. She looked sad for him.
“It’s obvious I’ve brought up some painful memories,” she explained. “I didn’t mean to. I was just curious.”
“It’s fine,” Ahl Doal rushed to say, “really, I’m just glad you’re talking to me. I thought you hated me.”
Artemis closed her eyes and sighed.
“No,” she said, “I don’t. I mean, I don’t even know you. How could I hate you?”
Ahl Doal gave a sad shrug. Artemis sighed again, sharper this time, and pressed her fingers together against the bridge of her nose.
“It’s… it’s my fault, I know. I know how I can come off.”

Ahl Doal opened his mouth to say it wasn’t her fault, that he was just being too sensitive, when she cut him off.
“You don’t have to say anything. This is me, and I own it. I’ve just got some stuff I’ve gotta work on.
“That’s big of you,” said Ahl Doal. He hadn’t met many people, but from what he’d seen from the sidelines and on TV, it took a strong person to admit to and try to erase their flaws.
Artemis gave him a warm smile that honestly seemed genuine.
“Thanks,” she said.

-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-

The last strands of pink-orange light from the setting sun flickered atop darkening water as Artemis and her mother were driven home by boat. Artemis watched Kauoha Penitentiary fade into the distance, swallowed by the ocean and the encroaching black of evening. The ocean wind stung with a new cold, and Artemis was only half-listening as her mother went on about the absolute Greek odyssey that was her day.
“And they said the financial department is going to be over budget again this year,” she exclaimed. “Honestly, you’d think accountants would be better with money.” She sighed and looked at Artemis.
“But I haven’t asked about your day, have I?” Artemis’ mother asked.
“It was… good,” Artemis replied, still surprised that she could say that honestly. She never would have expected that she’d have such a good time with Ahl Doal. It wasn’t a party or anything, but he was… nice. Sweet, even. He was obviously shy, and it took a while to get him talking, but once Artemis did, she’d learned that they actually had quite a few similar interests. He was sharp for a kid (which Artemis could now totally believe he was), and they’d had some good conversations about a few anime and game series they both liked.

Artemis’ mother didn’t seem inclined to believe her.
“You don’t have to lie on his account,” she said flippantly. “I’m not going to tell him this was a huge inconvenience for you. Not unless he deserves it.”
“No,” Artemis said quickly. Even though she’d only spent a short time with Ahl Doal, she could tell that he deeply respected her mother. He might even love her like she was his own mother. Artemis’ mother’s incredulous expression at her daughter’s protest clearly illustrated what she thought of that.

After a moment, her expression softened into one of understanding. Not a soft, motherly understanding, but a logical one.
“You feel sorry for him, don’t you?” she asked.
Artemis prickled at her mother’s tone, but she couldn’t deny it.
“Yes,” she admitted. Then she added, with a hair more sharpness,
“Don’t you?”

Artemis’ mother looked forward again, out into the ocean. A faint blue light lingered on the horizon, and the sky was beginning to dot with stars.
“Not particularly,” she said, “haven’t you seen how he lives? He wants for nothing; all those games and books. He has food, shelter, entertainment, and a prominent position secured in his future. He even has that coddling tutor of his.”

When her mother put it like that, Artemis had to admit, it seemed like the perfect life. She also knew from experience that she couldn’t argue with her mother. She would always find a way to twist Artemis’ words against her, or simply overpower her with sheer force of will. But her mother never could refuse a polite request from her dear daughter.
“If it’d be alright,” Artemis said, forcing an unnatural meekness over her voice like a veil, “I’d like to come back next week.”