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DENTAL HYGIENE IS THE MAIN CONCERN

INVICTUS SHIP’S LOG—ENTRY 6

OUR UNIVERSE IS COLLAPSING. WHAT ELSE IS THERE TO DO BUT MAKE A NEW ONE? RAGE, RAGE, AND ALL THAT. AT LEAST I GOT KISSED BEFORE MY UNTIMELY SPIRAL INTO SENILITY. YOU HEARD IT HERE FIRST, FOLKS. IMOGEN MCCARTHY AND GRAM WRIGHT KISSED. A HAPPILY EVER MOMENT, WORTH DECLARING BEFORE THE AFTER PART JOINS THE PARTY.

HERE ARE SOME BRAIN YOGA EXERCISES: ARE YOU YOU WITHOUT YOUR MEMORIES? IF NOT, WHO DO YOU BECOME? IF SO, ARE YOU ALSO YOU IN A PARALLEL UNIVERSE?

I HAVE TO STOP WRITING IN THIS LOG AND MAKE A TOGA. STAY TUNED FOR MY TAKE. TO BE HONEST, YOU’LL BE WAITING AWHILE. TO BE HONEST, HONEST, YOU DON’T EXIST, BECAUSE NO ONE IS READING THIS. RIP SPIRIT OF THE INVICTUS.

THE SHEETS WERE A THOUSAND THREAD count, so soft that kings might weep to sleep on them. Imogen herself had spent many a slumbering hour in the bedding—as evidenced by the neon streaks on her pillowcase. She tossed this aside. Nuclear Green + Taylor Pink + Aquamarine were not shades common to Ancient Roman fashion. Neither was cotton woven with a high-speed automatic air-jet loom, but options for craft-your-own-toga fabric were slim at the moment. Using bedsheets wouldn’t be the end of the world—HA.

(Sardonic humor must be genetic, huh? Dominant McCarthy trait.)

Even Imogen’s seamstress tools were makeshift. From the infirmary: curved needles and surgical thread. There was dental floss, too, in case she ran out. Floss upon unused floss. Some of the Invictus crew members must’ve been lying to their dentist-droids.

“Need any help?”

Blushing when she heard Gram’s voice—sonorous song of a sound—was reflex at this point. Imogen’s cheeks fuzzed pink, but she didn’t curse herself this time. Instead, she looked toward the door, where the Engineer stood, elbow propped to frame. The air between them was Grid-dizzy. Her smile swam in it.

Gram’s dimples grew as he stepped closer. “What?”

“I like you.”

“Haven’t those parameters been established?”

Kiss number two was even better than its predecessor. For as many day—and night—dreams Imogen had spent on the subject, kissing Gram, really kissing him, was something fantasies couldn’t hold a candle to. It was give and receive, find him, show him, warmth exchanged. It was a sparkle in her spine, thrilling to her fingertips.

“Just making sure the words still worked,” she murmured, forehead resting beneath his chin. “Do you floss?”

Sealed lips stunted his laugh. “Not a question a guy wants to hear post-kiss. Are you insinuating that I should?”

“Oh, no. You have very nice breath. The best.” Alas, Imogen’s foot-in-mouth curse had no fairy-tale cure! “I was only wondering because I have too much floss to sew this toga with. After the gelato and tiramisu we’ve been eating, I fear we may have some cavities on board. Naturally, our dental hygiene is my main concern at the moment….”

“Naturally.” Gram’s embrace tensed, biceps going sharp through his sleeves. “I floss every twenty-four hours. You?”

“Not enough.” Imogen couldn’t remember her last plaque-be-gone session, probably because the Fade had stolen it, the way it was stealing everything else. STUPID LIFE-GUZZLING FORGETTING. Standing here in Gram’s arms should’ve had the chance to become a memory, recounted to their many fur-babies. Chinchillas and quokkas and sugar gliders and other pint-sized cutenesses. “I’m not sure I did enough of anything….”

“We’re not over yet,” he whispered above her.

Chalk dusted his chin—bumblebee yellow—when Imogen pulled away. She brushed it off with her thumb, thinking of the many colors this could’ve been, had she just told him earlier: every pillowcase shade, a rainbow’s entire reach. Maybe their 2.0 versions could span that spectrum in the next life… whatever next life meant. Limber though Imogen’s thoughts might be, they couldn’t wrap around the pivot point’s existential implications.

“You’re right.” There was a toga to be sewn. “Were you serious about wanting to help?”

“There’s nothing else I’d rather be doing.”

“I need a pen to mark out the panels. Do you still have the one I lent you?”

“It’s in the common area.” Gram looked through the door, where the others were reviewing Empra’s datastream on repeat for planning purposes. “I’ll go get it.”

One more kiss left her insides swirling like a glitter snow globe.

SUCCESSES IN IMOGEN’S LOVE LIFE: **TEN THOUSAND SPARKLE-HEART EMOJIS**

Saffron skipped in from the common area. Imogen intercepted the animal, scooping him up before he could turn the clean sheet into his personal art project. The garment would be avant-garde enough without a red panda paw-print pattern.

Her fluffy ward gave a series of chirps. The noises often had a conversational quality—Insert food here! or Why so sad? or You humans are interrupting my daily twelve hours of slumber. Imogen didn’t translate so much as choose the subject matter. This cheep cheep chirrup turned into I always liked Gram. I’m glad you two found each other. Not like this was a game of hide-and-seek or anything. I love hide-and-seek. Especially with your favorite hair chalk colors. No one will ever find Mint Medley now….

“I know.” She smiled down at the creature. “I got lucky.”