I’ve lost track of time again. Not an unusual occurrence for me, but I can tell it’s gotten quite late while I’ve been toiling away in my lab. Not only am I exhausted, but I’m starving as well. I can’t remember the last thing I ate that day, but I know it was rather early in the day. Usually, I don’t go so long without food. Sleep is one thing that I’ll readily skip out on if I am on a roll with something, but food…when my stomach demands attention, I’m usually eager to comply.
I’m ashamed to say that I was hiding today, though. Hiding from Samantha, who is already proving a greater distraction than I like. When she came to my lab and asked to know what I was doing, I panicked and was an intentional asshole to her to get her to leave me alone. It shouldn’t bother me so much, as I’m an intentional asshole to most people, but I haven’t been able to shake this feeling of guilt deep in my stomach since I slammed the lab door in her face.
It’s not like she’s really done anything wrong. She’s just being friendly, I think, and I can tell she has a curious nature, just like I do. Usually, I find such traits in others annoying, but in her…for whatever reason, she doesn’t irritate me like other people do. She unnerves me and breaks my focus, but I can’t seem to stay annoyed with her, which I find troubling.
I sigh as I clean up my lab and step out the door, ready to call it a night. Food, then sleep, and there’s no reason for me to worry because it’s so late and she had to be exhausted from her trip. No doubt, Samantha is passed out in her room and there’s no risk of me running into her at least until morning. If I play my cards right and get back into the lab before she wakes, I might be able to go the whole day without seeing her.
As I make my way to the kitchen, I try to force thoughts of Samantha from my mind. There are other, more important things for me to think about. Like the Phoenix Cluster, and everything I’ve learned while studying it. I’ve been able to determine just how phoenixes absorb and redistribute energy, which is vastly different from humans. Whereas humans temporarily store energy and then shed it, usually through their cells, phoenixes recycle and redistribute it throughout their lifetimes. With each shedding, a human loses vitality, which leads to aging. Since phoenixes don’t shed their energy nearly as often as humans, our aging process is significantly slower, and our ability to restore that energy is what allows us to regenerate and maintain our bodies even after injury, and sometimes death.
Because our bodies hold onto so much energy instead of shedding it, our internal temperatures are significantly higher as well. We are capable of self-combustion and rebirth, so to speak, because that energy maintains the integrity of our physical beings. Humans burn and die because their bodies aren’t built to hold onto so much heat and energy. Phoenixes burn and thrive because we are built like steel traps for that energy.
Now that I have a better understanding of how our bodies work, I can more easily control and manipulate the natural instincts and bonds that phoenixes are so often enslaved to.
I’m so caught up in my thoughts about my research that, as I enter the kitchen, I don’t immediately realize that it’s occupied. I come to a jolting stop, however, when my eyes land on Samantha. She’s sitting at the small table, staring at her laptop resting in front of her. A bowl of cereal is next to the machine. I watch, transfixed as she focuses in on whatever she’s reading. Her nose scrunches up in concentration, and damn it, it’s adorable.
Damn it, she’s supposed to be asleep. If she looks up and spots me, no doubt she’ll tell me to shove it and get lost after the way I treated her earlier. I decide to try and sneak away, ignoring my stomach’s rumbling.
Unfortunately, I don’t even make it two steps before her head snaps up and bright green eyes lock with mine. She looks surprised to see me at first, and then, to my shock, a friendly smile curls her lips.
“Hey, Dr. Pyrrhos, working late too?”
I blink and scratch my chin awkwardly, caught off guard by her pleasant demeanor. Does nothing upset this woman?
“Um…yes, I was,” I finally tell her. “I was just finishing up and thought I’d grab something to eat before bed…”
“Oh, don’t mind me,” she says, waving her hand toward the fridge. “I fell asleep for a while then woke up. I’m struggling to fall back to sleep…jet lag, I suppose. Thought I’d go over some articles and peer reviews I’ve been meaning to look at for my research.”
Her eyes lock back in on her computer screen while she’s talking to me, and I see that I’m not really the most interesting thing in the room to her at that moment. That’s fine. Ideal, actually. I don’t really feel like talking anyway.
Without a word, I cross over to the small fridge and open it. I root around for some leftovers from the night before and move to pop them into the microwave. I steal a glance at her as I heat up my food, but she’s clearly lost in whatever she’s reading. That crinkle in her nose is back. She also presses a finger to her lips and gently bites down on it as she reads. I feel a jolt of something at the sight. Something that I do not need to have to deal with right now.
Gritting my teeth, I look away from her and stare at the countdown clock on the microwave until it dings. I pull out my meal and go to sit across from her at the table. She doesn’t look back up at me and I eat in silence for several long moments. Usually, I have no problem with silence. It’s soothing, and far preferable to ceaseless chatter and pointless conversation.
As I sit there, though, and watch her work, I start to get antsy. I’m too curious about her and what’s going through her impressive mind to maintain the silence for long.
“What are you working on, exactly?” I ask her at length.
She glances up at me. Slowly, she smirks.
“I thought I was meant to mind my own business, and you were going to mind yours?”
Throwing my own words back in my face. It stings, but it’s fair.
“Point taken,” I concede.
She goes back to her reading, and I push the preheated chicken and rice around on my plate as I struggle to come up with something else to say. Damn, I really am out of practice when it comes to making conversation.
At length, she shows me mercy and lifts her head back up to ask, “What brought you to Antarctica in the first place? Don’t try to convince me it’s your plants.”
I grin, amused despite myself. Usually when someone asks about my reasons for being here, I get defensive and do everything I can to shut the conversation down. For some reason though, in this moment, with her, I actually want to tell her. I can’t tell her everything, obviously, but I can give her a few crumbs at least. Just to have something to talk about.
“Have you heard of the Phoenix Cluster?” I ask her.
She arches a brow. “Sure. It’s a galaxy cluster that was discovered by the Amendsen-Scott South Pole station telescope. It’s creating stars at breakneck speed, unlike anything that’s been observed before.”
I blink at her, impressed. “Yes, exactly.”
“You’re studying it?” She closes her laptop and gives me her full attention. I feel an odd sense of pride at that, like I’ve just passed some secret test of some kind.
“I am,” I nod. “I am studying how the cluster uses and redirects energy, and applying that research to life here on earth.”
Her eyes widen with realization. “Oh! That’s what you meant by energy redistribution. That makes so much more sense now.”
I grin. Her eyes are big and bright, and I love that she understands what I’m talking about and can keep up with me. I hadn’t realized until that moment just how much I actually miss conversation with another person, so long as it’s intellectually stimulating and interesting.
We continue to talk for quite some time about the cluster and my research, or at least the parts of my work I’m willing to share with her. I’m blown away by her aptitude for the subject, and am fascinated by how eager she is to gain knowledge. She asks me questions that are insightful and poignant, and I find I’m all too happy to answer them.
The ease with which we converse makes me a little nervous, however. Samantha is almost too easy to talk to. I could see myself getting attached to her, which is something I absolutely don’t want to do. It’s not because of her, by any means, but I swore not to let myself get entangled with another being long ago. The last time it happened, my will was not completely my own, and I ended up trapped in a nightmare.
I realize the danger that Samantha poses for me. I enjoy her company far too much, and there’s a danger in that. There’s a danger in letting her get close to me.
I need to put distance between us, and fast.
“Well,” I say, glancing down at my almost empty plate, “I’m pretty much done here and it’s late. I should really be getting to bed.”
She blinks, looking rightly started by my abrupt closure to our conversation.
“Oh,” she says. “O…okay. Maybe we can chat about this another time? It’s really fascinating.”
“Yeah, sure,” I say in a noncommittal tone as I shove to my feet and move to place my dishes in the sink. “That’d be fine. You know, when we’re not busy with our work.”
“Right.” Her tone and expression convey her disappointment. She sees that I’m brushing her off, and I kind of hate myself for doing this to her. She doesn’t really deserve it, but I won’t be doing either of us any favors if I let this continue. One or both of us is just going to be left hurt and disappointed, of that I have no doubt.
“All right, well, goodnight,” I lamely say before turning and making a beeline for the door.
“Goodnight,” she calls after me, but I don’t stop to look back, fearful that I won’t be able to leave her there if I see her crestfallen expression.
I grit my teeth and harden myself against the feelings she’s provoked in me. Samantha Reynold is far more dangerous than I initially took her for. She pulled me with that sweet smile and bubbly attitude…but I can’t let myself be blinded to the reality that lies between us.
She is a human.
I am a phoenix.
One day, she will leave this place, grow old, and die.
And I’ll just keep living, which will be a lot easier to do if I’m not haunted by the memory of her bright green gaze and musical laugh.