Season 1, Episode 6 - The Tree Plot XVII - "The Vaguely European Medieval Fantasy Setting"

“Thanks to the tireless efforts of the State Police and local Military Police, the proud city of Androscoggin was shielded from rioting in the surrounding shantytowns,” news anchor Dan O’Leary proclaimed over the radio in Calvin’s Corner. “The situation was stabilized by early this morning, though we did receive reports of revolutionary saboteurs temporarily disrupting the city’s power system.”

Isaac could imagine O’Leary’s co-host, Chuck Banner, shaking his head. “When will they learn,” Chuck simply said. “And - oh, we’ve just received breaking news. It appears that esteemed benefactor of the Institute, Cosmo Tore, has unfortunately passed away in a car accident on a highway near Fore River. Tore was well-known for his devotion to charity, having funded much of the Institute’s expansion. The Institute has previously honored Tore by naming its library after him. He is survived by four children and eleven grandchildren…”

Isaac sipped from his orange juice as the news anchors described a car pile-up on the freeway that claimed the unfortunate Tore’s life. Sitting in that booth at in the cafe, he could do little but wait until Reed arrived. To be fair, he got there pretty early. Having already eaten, he had little better to do than simultaneously listen to Calvin’s radio while reading the morning newspaper. Nearby, a few Free Corps soldiers had the same idea, while a couple of Academy freshman predicted the outcome of the football games later this week.

The bell rang; Isaac looked up and saw Reed enter, the morning gray of the sky behind her. Her hair was in that bob and she wore a crisp, indigo blazer over a white blouse and gray skirt. It was the oddest thing - seeing her cleaned up like that, Isaac found himself missing her usual disheveled look.

She gave him a wave and slid into the other side of the booth. Calvin came by; she ordered coffee and a breakfast sandwich. As he left, Reed pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I got a splitting headache,” she complained, moving her hands up to rub her temples.

“Are you drinking enough water?” Isaac asked.

Reed rolled her eyes. “My piss is crystal clear, Isaac.”

Ah, there’s the Reed I’ve been missing.

She leaned back in her seat, scrunching her nose. “I haven’t hit a Rusher since Saturday. They say the first two days, you got enough remaining in your system to feel fine. The third day is when withdrawal starts.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Isaac said. He wasn’t sure what to do, so he handed over his newspaper. “Here, maybe reading will help. Take your mind off of things.”

Reed tapped a finger against the newspaper. “I don’t know how you can read this kind of stuff. Just the sight of it is enough to get me going.”

Isaac recalled Reed’s opposition to traditional news and supposed that included newspapers.

“It’s not even the lies,” Reed complained. “It’s just the way they write things. Look at this headline.”

Isaac looked at where she tapped her finger. “No, Asian Media Is Not Responsible for Recent Trend of Serial Killers.” He looked back up at her. “What about it?”

Reed motioned with her hands toward the newspaper. “Why do you have to patronize me? If you’re going to prove a point, just give it to me straight. Don’t treat me like a child. I can imagine the exhausted sigh the journalist lets out as they write that headline. It’s condescending.”

She tapped the newspaper again. “And that’s another thing too. I hate it when the journalist talks about how tired they are of covering this topic. It’s your literal job. I’m sure the milkman and the pizza man are tired of their jobs too, but they don’t complain about it when they get to your place. I’m tired of school, but you don’t hear me complaining about it.”

Isaac just raised an eyebrow.

Reed sighed. “You’re right. Sorry. My head hurts and I’m just in a whiney mood.” She passed the newspaper back to Isaac. “What happened to me? I used to be this cool girl who killed people in the sewers and convenience stores. Now I just complain about my feelings all the time.”

Isaac shrugged. “Maybe that’s just part of growing up. Not the killing part, I mean. The learning about your own feelings part.”

“Yeah, guess you’re right. I guess even a badass swordswoman like myself has to sort out emotional issues before going back to kicking ass.” Reed saw Calvin approach. “Oh, nice, my BLT.”

Calvin delivered the goods and nodded in departure. Reed took a bite out of the sandwich and nodded along. “The BLT. Not the best sandwich in the world, but still a sandwich nonetheless. Very much like life.” She gestured with it towards Isaac. “The question is though - how long can you go eating BLTs until you just get plum-worn out by it?”

“Not sure. I don’t really like tomatoes.”

Reed just shook her head. She ate about half of it before pushing the plate off to the side. “Not that hungry today. But we have bigger fish to fry. The meeting that determines our literary destinies.”

Isaac felt like Reed was making too big of a deal out of this. Thanks to growing literacy rates, New England had seen a recent boom in the dime novel and magazine and newspaper serial markets. And, outside of the occasional State Police shut down when stories got too political, business was booming.

Well, maybe not outside the capital. But within Narragansett, people could still afford to fork over a dime to get the latest pulp fiction. How long that trend, both on the supply and demand sides, would last - no one could tell. But everybody wanted a piece of a bubble. That included Reed, with Isaac along for the ride. The pulp market seemed to be taking on any stories they could find - including one submitted to them by Isaac and Reed. Their meeting today would be about the future of their story with Narragansett Publishers.

“I still can’t believe they’re interested in our story,” Isaac said. “I mean, we’re just a couple of amateurs.”

“I’m the amateur here,” Reed admitted. “Looks like all that journaling and reading and such did you some good after all. Now, we just have to ace our meeting with the publishing company, and we’ll be seeing our story somewhere soon enough.”

“You still haven’t told me why you’re so dead-set on getting this story out there,” Isaac reminded her. “I always assumed it was about the fame, but you haven’t given me a straight answer.”

Reed took a long sip from her coffee, then looked out the window towards the gray sky. “I’ll tell you when we actually get the story in the paper, Isaac. And anyways, speaking of stories, I’ve been reading a few that you’ve recommended, and it got me thinking.”

Isaac knew she was just changing the subject, but he couldn’t help himself. “You think?”

Another sip of coffee. “I’ve been known to. All those stories…I feel like the vast majority are set in medieval times, or fantasy medieval times, don’t you agree?”

Isaac nodded. “Well, we live in an industrial time, and the Middle Ages were a romantic time. You got your kings and knights and queens and princesses, mages and magicians, elves and water spirits. You got quests. You got a sense of freedom you don’t have nowadays.”

“And isn’t that a shame? Out of every possible period of time, we had to live in this one.” Reed swirled around the coffee in her mug. “Imagine living in a time where you didn’t even have a map of the whole world. Or know how many planets there were. There’d be so much to discover.”

“Isn’t it nice to know, though?” Isaac asked.

“I guess it just comes down to personal philosophy,” Reed supposed. “Would you rather live in an age of discovery or wonder, or an age when everything has already been learned?”

“We’re still learning stuff,” Isaac pointed out. “We still haven’t gone back to the moon yet.”

“Exactly. We were born in a time where we’re not even learning anything new. We have to rediscover what we already used to know.”

Isaac eyed the empty space on either side of Reed - usually, her Domino Sword would be hanging around next to her, but bringing a sword to a business meeting probably wasn’t the greatest of ideas. “We literally have magic powers.”

“And usually magic powers means being an adventurer and fighting orcs and living in a world like one of your video games, right?” Reed said. “Doing your own thing and going on quests. But us? We’re just cogs in a vast military machine. We live in a world where the magic isn’t even fun.”

Another sip of coffee. “I think these stories are onto something,” Reed said. “I want to go to a magic academy.”

“...but we do go to a magic academy.”

“A real one,” Reed corrected. “Well, a real fictional one. You know what I mean. I want a spirit of adventure in my life. My labmates in alchemy classes are dwarves and orcs. I sweep a room and my magic level increases, just like that. I want to cast |Fireball|. Maybe some magic arrows while we’re at it. I want to defeat an old warlock trying to come back to life. I want to rely on the wits of myself, my dim-witted yet kind-hearted best friend, and my tsundere love interest to overcome the incompetence of the school faculty and prejudice of the wealthy, blueblood students to save the day.”

“The tsundere again?”

“I told you, they amuse me. And this isn’t your average tsundere. I want a hot elf tsundere.” She pointed her cup at him, amusement in her voice. “An older hot elf tsundere. That would check all the boxes.”

Reed set the cup down gently and took a long look at it. She spoke in a quieter tone now. “But, all that’s fictional, of course. Since I can’t have any of that…I just want to take a long nap in a nice garden on a warm summer's day. Fall asleep in a meadow at the bottom of a spring valley. To lay on my back and reach upwards toward the clouds, feeling content with never reaching them.”

“We’re on break from school all week," Isaac pointed out. "And we have citywide passes that let us leave the Pond. Why not take a train somewhere and do that?”

Reed finished her coffee. “You’re too smart for me, Isaac. Maybe I’m just afraid. Maybe I’m just mysterious. Now c’mon, let’s get the check and get out of here, the meeting’s starting soon. I’ll even be nice and split the check with you this time.”

A few minutes later, Isaac and Reed departed Calvin's for the train station. On their way out, Reed stepped onto the sidewalk, then rummaged through her purse until she found a thing of chapstick. "This stuff is crazy, Isaac. No more chapped lips. I already had charisma. But a Reed that's actually attractive? I could take over the world."

"Ha-ha," Isaac said. That's when he realized a cyclist pedaling down the sidewalk was struggling to get around Reed, who was busy with the chapstick. When he finally got around, he waited until Reed noticed him.

"Dickhead!" he called out, then immediately pedaled off.

Reed raised a particular finger in his direction, but then sighed and lowered it.

"Life is sour," she finally said, putting the chapstick away.

Isaac shrugged. "Ah, well." Then he realized Reed was looking at him funny. "What?"

Reed chuckled. "You know, a few months ago, you'd be having an aneurism right now. I seem to recall you getting royally pissed off over me spitting a reed out on your walkway the first day you joined the Academy Rddhi corps."

Isaac rubbed his neck. "Did I? Maybe letting stuff go is just part of growing up, too."