CITY BAR — THE CITY
Over the course of eight years, Down Below had evolved into an expansive, cohesive universe. Even Tom, who had monitored thousands of experiences from the lab, found it challenging to keep abreast of the new places generated by Sibyl. She designed these settings to meet the specific needs of impending travelers, trying to reuse old ones as much as possible. The City Bar was a venue frequented by numerous travelers. Its seedy atmosphere encouraged the candid intimacy essential for forming connections between travelers and Underlings.
As Tom entered the bar, a surge of emotion engulfed him. He found himself immersed in a world of his own creation. The air was thick with a potent mix of tobacco and weed smoke, which caught in his throat and induced a cough. Despite the discomfort, there was an intoxicating allure to the atmosphere. The experience was far more tangible and visceral than simply observing holographic projections back in the lab. And somewhere within this sensory overload was Nate. The thought elicited a rush of adrenaline that accelerated Tom's heartbeat. It was that undeniable pull Nate had on his emotions, a sensation he frequently tried to suppress.
As he scanned the room, both travelers and bots fixed their gaze on him. He was taken aback by those unsettling stares he had long forgotten, a consequence of years spent secluded in pods, digital labs, and isolated islands. Surprisingly, he found that even the Underlings reacted to his looks in the same unnerving manner. A shiver ran down his spine as he raised his eyes, searching for a distinctive copper pompadour, only to find it absent.
A man with flaming hair perched on one of the elevated leather stools at the bar. His lengthy locks cascaded down to his mid-torso, partially pulled back into a ponytail. Even viewed from behind, Tom could see an unkempt beard. He wore a simple black sweater, its long sleeves partially enveloping his bare hands. As Tom approached the bar, the man rotated in his seat, as though sensing his arrival. Emotion welled up in Tom's eyes as he smiled. It was him—older and disheveled—but still the same man who had swept him off his feet with his words, and the way he spoke said words, and the music and meaning behind those words.
“Sorcery.” Nate’s eyes glimmered. “Are you real?” He was visibly shaken.
“It’s me. How are you?” Tom’s voice sounded deeper, throaty…broken.
Nate's hands clamped onto the back of Tom's neck, pulling him into an embrace that was as urgent as it was loving, tinged with a palpable sense of desperation. Tom cupped Nate’s abundant hair between his hands and kissed the poet’s face.
“How are you?” Tom repeated, looking into the poet’s eyes.
“In heaven?” Nate's voice quivered, his gaze glossing over. He ran his hands through his beard and hair, then closed his eyes as if embarrassed. “I—I don’t want you to see me like this.”
The bartender glanced their way. “Would you like a drink, sir?”
“No, thanks,” Tom replied, his eyes never leaving Nate.
“Sir, patrons are required to—” The bartender abruptly halted his sentence, tilting his head subtly to look at something behind Tom.
Tom turned around and found Sibyl standing near the wall, her eyes locked onto the bartender, who promptly scurried away to serve other customers.
Nate gently placed his hand on Tom's arm and squeezed. “Please, stay,” Nate said as Tom turned back to face him.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Tom masked his sadness with a smile. “And I love the hair.” He ran the back of his fingers down a long red lock that fell loose on Stormy’s shoulder.
Nate held his hand. “Is that your girlfriend?” His gaze shifted toward Sibyl.
“You can see her? No, no, she’s more of a…a bodyguard.” It wasn’t the right time to disclose what she was, and reignite an old argument. Not now.
“Am I not supposed to see that stunning creature?” Nate squinted, trying to make sense of the figure. “A bodyguard dressed in a white pantsuit?”
“I’m afforded some creative liberties here,” Tom said, his smile genuine this time.
“Hey, good-lookin’,” Nate said, lightly touching Tom's cheek. “Ah, there it is—a glimmer of the sunshine I used to know.” His eyes took in Tom's face, then narrowed. “You seem down. What's bothering you?” Nate had always had a knack for piercing through pretense. “I saw your interview with Marge. I know what you’re doing to yourself. Spending too much time Down—”
“I’m fine,’ Tom interjected, gently removing Nate’s hand from his cheek to hold it between his own. “Today is about you, not me.”
“You've been spying on me with this machine?” Nate feigned shock, then broke into a smile.
“It's not like that,” Tom insisted. “Something strange occurred. I can't quite explain it.”
“Not weird if it led you to me.” Nate leaned in to kiss Tom on the mouth.
Caught up in the moment, Tom moved closer, only to pull away seconds later. “Nate, no. Not like this.” He lowered his head.
“I’m sorry.” Stormy’s face flushed with embarrassment as he placed the palm of his hand on Tom’s chest. “Old habits. I’m so sorry.”
It felt like no time had passed despite their nearly decade-long separation; they spoke as if they had never been apart.
Tom grasped Nate's hand. “What's important is that you're here with me, and I'm here for you. Do you understand? Whatever you're going through, you can lean on me.”
Shifting uneasily in his seat, Nate asked, “How much do you know?”
“Not much,” Tom admitted with a shrug. “Only that you've recently lost something—or someone—important, and it's taken a toll on you. Can I help in some way?”
Nate shook his head, the corner of his lips curving up. “Recently? Don’t you know?”
Tom stared at him, puzzled.
“Thomas… I knew it from the moment I first set my eyes on you at the Albertine.”
“Talk to me.”
Nate’s eyes flickered as if they were lit from the inside by a candle in the wind. He smiled faintly. “You may be a thirty-something almighty God, but you are as naïve and unaware of your power as in the first day we met.”
“I’m not a God. I know I haven’t been around. I’m sorry.”
“Nine years…” Nate's voice softened, tinged with a mix of longing and regret. Tom could see the love in Nate's eyes, the unspoken understanding of a shared past. “It’s my fault. Look at all you’ve accomplished together with that…humanoid. I tried to get in the way—”
“The thought of something happening to you, I can’t…”
Nate sat on the high stool, his feet resting on the crossbar. Tom stood close, almost between Nate's legs, fighting the emotional gravity that pulled him closer to the man he'd missed for so long. His eyes filled with unshed tears, as the weight of their years apart suddenly overwhelmed him.
“What has he done to you?” Nate asked, his voice cracking. “Why is there so much pain in your eyes?”
“Please, don’t start…” Tom begged, his voice barely above a whisper.
Nate reached out to touch Tom's face, evoking memories of a simpler past. “You've achieved everything you ever wanted, haven't you?” he said, locking eyes with Tom.
On the verge of tears, Tom yearned to confide in Nate—to embrace him, share his grief, and find healing together. Laughter seemed like a distant dream, but a dream he craved, nonetheless. It was then that he realized the depths of his emotional hunger. But he couldn’t. He had worked hard to stay away from the poet. Nate was his fierce protector. He would put Tom’s wellbeing above anything else—Down Below and Up Above. He would demand more from Harry, and scorch both worlds if that’s what it took to keep Tom safe. Tom could easily fool Harry about the state of his mental health, but Nate could see right through him.
Tom stood straighter. “Harry and I have big responsibilities, things we can’t share. We are united, dependent on each other in ways you’ll never understand. Our partnership, our friendship—it needs to be protected at all costs. Do you understand? Everything, everything depends on it. I can’t share my world with you, Stormy, but I dearly wish you shared yours with me.”
Nate’s face flashed bitterness. “He lives in open luxury with a wife and child, while you’ve disappeared from the face of the earth. I couldn’t find you. I–I tried. He collects awards and smiles for the cameras and you… You look so…broken. Why?”
“Nate, I can’t—” Tom took a step back.
“Wait. Please.” A beggar’s voice, overwhelmed by fear. “You asked me what you can do to help, right?”
Tom nodded. “What happened?”
Nate let out a deep breath. “You happened! And then you didn’t. And how could I ever recover from that? The one person who lived up to my definition of human, whose perfection I tried to live up to at every moment of my life.”
“That’s not me.” Tom dismissed Nate’s words as if he was peddling snake oil.
“That’s what you’ll ever be. Because you don’t know any better, never have, and never will. When society was failing, I screamed at them, judged them, and exposed them. You—you found a way to fix them or, rather, move their shortcomings elsewhere.”
Tom’s body tensed, and he could see that Nate picked up on it.
“That’s it, isn’t it? You’re drowning in human deviance.” Nate paused, his voice softening. “Oh, sweetheart… It’s all my fault.”
“Stormy, don’t. I’m fine. Just fine. Let me help you.”
“Don’t you know? I don’t need you to take care of me. I miss taking care of you, protecting you from yourself. Nurturing your dreams and fulfilling your desires.”
Tom closed his eyes, trying to find a safe space to think. It was too much for him to process.
Nate got closer and whispered in his ear. “I know it’s been a decade. That you left and moved on, but let me stay close.”
Tom shook his head. “I haven’t—”
“Oh, I think she’s coming for me,” Nate said. Tom opened his eyes and followed Nate’s gaze. Sibyl was walking fast in their direction. Tom held up the palm of his hand toward her, but she kept walking, defying him.
“Don’t you dare,” Tom said, his words delivered with conviction. “I’m fine, and I’m not hurting anyone.”
Sibyl spoke directly into his mind. Tom, I need to pull you out. This traveler does not have the temperament to handle Down Below’s secrets. He is a risk to—
I know. I won’t share anything with him, Tom answered in silence.
She took one more step forward, and then she stopped. Nate touched Tom’s face, turning it gently to him.
“I get a sense we may be running out of time. Clearly, the lady is in charge,” Nate observed, sharp as ever. He paused to think. “I once agreed to have a hot cup of chocolate with you. Remember?” Tom nodded, turning his lips into a half-smile. “Then you pestered me until I agreed to see you every day. You were such a stalker,” Nate teased. “Beautiful, I don’t need you to date me, and I won’t interfere with your work, but I need to see you…and to be allowed to lo—care for you. Can you do that?”
“And you’ll let me care for you? As friends?”
Nate grazed his fingers through Tom’s messy hair and down his neck. “A poet can dream.”
Tom shivered. “And— And you’ll be okay? With just that?”
“One doesn’t need to own the Louvre to enjoy a visit.”
“Don’t—don’t put me on a pedestal.”
Nate did what he always had done: he ignored Tom’s objection. “I fancy this clean-shaved look on you, makes you look ethereal. It’s very unlike you. What happened?”
“Harry has facial hair FOMO and suffers from mild OCD.” Tom grinned, making Nate laugh.
“You don’t need to change who you are to make others happy.”
“I’m no longer seventeen.” Tom’s eyes flashed a smile.
“I’m sorry.” Nate glanced at something else and frowned.
Tom turned his head, following Stormy’s eyes. His lips curved into an amused smile as he watched Nate glare possessively at the woman sitting nearby. How fast they had settled into their old roles. Nate had never been possessive, but he had always acted like he was to intimidate the creepy gawkers that usually gathered around Tom. He had done it to poor Harry in the first day they met, presuming another stalker. He’d been partly right.
“Still happens, huh?” Nate placed his hand on Tom’s neck.
“Don’t… I don’t need it…”
“Don’t be cruel.” Nate curved his lips upward.
“What did I do?”
“You’ve never needed my protection, but you always let me imagine you did.”
“Was it that obvious?”
Nate rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Thomas, you’re six foot three and built like a God.”
“Don’t. Do. That!” Tom said in a high-pitched tone, and after a beat, they both laughed, and it was sweet and sour, and familiar, and confusing.
“Thomas, I’ve read the book. I love the book. The cover is just a bit of icing on a mind-blowing cake.”
“I’m not food,” Tom grumbled.
Nate sighed. “Love, gimme a break. I’m sorry. Have I ever—”
“No, no, of course not. I’m sorry. It’s…not you.” Tom attempted to ignore all the creepy eyes set on him. There was something about the way the Underlings looked at him that made him shiver. “Meet me here next week, at the same time. Okay?”
“With bells on.”
“I’ll find us a private place where we can hang out.” Tom glanced at Sibyl.
Sure, Tom.
“Can I message you?” Nate asked.
“It can be traced. Just jump on a pod if you need to talk. I’ll know when you’re Down Below, and I’ll find you.” Tom paused for a second, thinking. “By the way, thank you.”
“For what?”
“You were one of the few who didn’t sell a story to the media. You could have made a fortune.”
“Would I ever! I forced you to live in my tiny studio when you received your family’s inheritance. Remember?”
Tom smiled, teary-eyed. “I could barely fit through the main door.”
Nate waved at someone behind Tom. “Ah, that’s my date.”
Tom turned his head to find a familiar face walking in their direction; the Underling was older, a teenager now, but he’d never forget her features.
Tom’s jaw dropped. “Hope?” The last time he’d seen her, she was a child; a desperate child attempting to jump off a cliff.
“Yes, my ‘little sister.’” Nate curled his fingers in the air as he spoke. “She likes to remind me I’m a role model, and that she loves me and needs me.”
“How’s Sarah?” Tom remembered Nate’s beloved sister.
“I haven’t seen her in a while. She doesn’t deserve my moods.”
Remorse blurred Tom’s eyesight. “It’s going to be okay.”
Nate caressed Tom’s hand with the back of his fingers and then turned to face the girl. “Hope! Hey, darlin’, how are you?” Nate kissed the teenager on the cheek, while Hope stared at Tom intensely, and her judgmental eyes made Tom shudder.