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1. A CHANGE OF LEADERSHIP
They stood in a triangle before Eros. Papo was up front, and a pace or two behind him on each side stood King and Monmignon. Each of them felt a horrible combination of grief and shame and kept their eyes locked on the tile beneath their feet. Papo, trying his best to keep a stiff upper lip though he knew he couldn’t swallow his feelings much longer, felt Monmignon’s hand on his shoulder. He touched it with his own and felt Monmignon’s comforting squeeze. King only stood there, wishing he knew what to do.
“None of you are to blame yourselves,” Eros said gently.
“But Lord Eros, I…” Papo began.
“But you nothing,” interrupted the deity who sat before them on his throne of glistening, rose-colored gold. His tone was soft but serious. “You are not responsible in any way for this tragedy. Namour was a courageous fighter and a true believer in the cause ever since Pandora’s little gaffe with that silly box. He will be remembered with honor.”
“But I still feel that I must tender my resignation,” Papo insisted. “The frontal attack was my idea. If we hadn’t followed my plan, those angels and Namour would still be alive.”
“There was nothing wrong with your strategy,” Eros said, holding up his hand. “You had no way of knowing that Eris would have an entire battalion of heartbrokens do the bulk of the fighting. Her actions were against the rules of engagement, and I will deal with her directly for that. But as for you, Papo, I will not accept your resignation.
“Yes, My Lord,” Papo said after a pregnant pause to digest what he was hearing.
“However,” he continued. “I want King to assume command for the time being.”
King looked up, eyes wide. “Me?”
“Yes.”
“But…”
“No buts,” snapped Eros. “The priority is now to rebuild the Ero Angel army, and your human is the only one that remains from the original squadron. So that puts you at the helm until we have reassembled our forces.” He paused for a minute. “Papo? Monmignon? I need you two to support him.”
They agreed to do it. They knew why they had to as well. King was not the most well-liked among the faerie Leaders, and the only way the rest of them would listen to him was if they stood by him. Even Eros knew it.
“Good,” Eros said, nodding once. “Now, I need you three to keep each other and the rest glued together while I make a new Guardian Faerie of Hope. I already know that with Hope absent, there will be some emotional chaos, particularly in your corner of Olympus.”
“Oh no,” muttered King.
“How long will it take?” Monmignon asked.
“I can’t say, my dear,” Eros answered. “But I will start right away. I promise.”
“What about the humans, my Lord?” Papo asked.
“Don’t worry,” Eros said. “Time runs a little differently for them than it does for us. Nevertheless, they won’t be without hope for long. So now, go back and attend to your ritual. I am with you all in spirit, and my labor on Namour’s successor will be a work of love rather than haste.”
“Wait!” Monmignon called, stepping in front of Papo, a slight breach of protocol for the moment.
“Yes?”
Monmignon took his other hand from behind his back and held up a crown. It was tarnished and cracked, but the gold was still shiny and bright in some places. “Could you use this?”
Papo screwed his eyes shut, and King let a small smile touch the corner of his lips as Eros accepted it.
“I certainly can,” Eros said. “Thank you, Monmignon.”
Monmignon smiled modestly and resumed his place. The god took a quick look at the damaged crown, whispered Namour’s name, and vanished, leaving the magnificent throne empty. The three Leaders stood there looking at each other for a moment, saying nothing.
“Well, Sir?” Papo asked, raising one eyebrow.
“Well what?” King asked.
“You’re the leader now,” Papo said, snapping to attention. “I await your orders, Sir.”
King looked at Monmignion for an explanation but only got an encouraging nod in response. Then, at last, King drew in a breath, pulled his tunic taut over his frame, and straightened his posture.
“Right,” King said. “Let’s go, then.”
They walked in single file down the grand, arching hallway that led to the front doors of Eros’ palace. Each one had their head up and their eyes forward, but inside, they were all doing their utmost to be strong and hold themselves together. The front doors parted and swung inward as the trio approached them. For a moment, they all shielded their eyes from the brightness, but as their eyes got used to the light outside, they eventually relaxed. Once past the threshold, Papo and Monmignon fell into rank behind King, standing side-by-side.
Every faerie was lined up on either side of the path leading from the palace’s front door to the front gates, holding a candle. They saw King at the head of the triad, and a few murmurs arose. They all knew what that meant, and they were all nervous at the prospect of a change in leadership. King saw their reaction and squashed his urge to explain. Now was not the time.
King turned to his left and saw Meli standing there with the three larger candles for the Leaders. The look on his face silently asked King if he would be okay. King nodded and smiled wanly. Satisfied, Meli handed the Leaders their candles. King closed his eyes, held up his right hand, and brought all five fingers together. A second later, he snapped his hand open, and a tiny golden flame appeared just above his palm. King raised the candle in his other hand and lit the wick. The moment the candle was glowing, he turned his right hand over. The flame in his palm extinguished immediately. He turned around and lit the candles Papo and Monmignon were holding with his own and then began to march down the aisle toward the gate. Papo took his candle and lit Meli’s, while Monmignon took his candle and lit Ciccino’s. Then they fell in line again behind King. Ciccino steadied his shaking hand to light Bébé’s candle as Meli lighted Lindo’s before getting in the line behind Papo and Monmignon.
Next, Lindo lit Oppa’s candle and Bébé lit Kabu’s. The two of them joined the procession. Then, Oppa lit Habibi’s candle and gave him a look that assured him they could set aside any differences they had for the moment. Habibi nodded in response, and Oppa joined the line. Kabu offered Záchari a lollipop after lighting his candle. Záchari huffed at first, but then, seeing an expression on Kabu’s face that communicated that he needed to give Záchari this gift to feel better himself, he accepted it. Kabu’s face brightened slightly as he fell into step with the procession. Záchari examined the lollipop for a moment in the light of his burning candle, then popped it in his mouth and lit the candle of the faerie next to him.
The line of faeries continued home with their candles glowing, singing quietly and in harmony:
Hush-a-bye baby, babe not mine,
Shoheen sho, ulolo,
Shoheen sho, strange baby, O.
2. MALFUNCTION
Eros had told the three Leaders to expect some chaos during the absence of Hope, but none of them could have guessed how chaotic it would get. Every faerie, including the Leaders, tried to do their part to keep everyone cool, but nothing seemed to work. If anything, the efforts of one faerie only exacerbated the malaise of the others.
Bónbon had tried to cheer people up with a karaoke contest. However, his refusal to yield the microphone after his third rendition of “My Heart Will Go On” irritated Habibi and Frett to the point that they began to pelt him with vegetables until Bónbon finally shut up and fled the stage. True to his idiom, Kabu ate everything Frett and Habibi had thrown at Bónbon and then went to work on the marshmallow fort Honey was building to keep his mind and heart occupied. Honey ran to Meli in tears, seeking comfort, only to find himself at the end of a long line of other faeries trying to process their feelings. King had suggested that Bébé try to take some of the burden off of Meli’s shoulders by offering to console some of the faeries who were waiting their turn, but Bébé didn’t want to give up his place in line. Minos and Thor thought maybe a meditation circle would help give the agitated faeries a place to practice some calmness and patience. But they couldn’t agree on which was more important to focus on — calmness or patience. Thus the meditation circle never got off the ground.
Monmignon, who had learned absolutely nothing from Bónbon’s karaoke fiasco, tried to organize a beauty pageant. However, because he wouldn’t let anyone else judge it, he also found that no one else wanted to be in it. So he simply crowned himself the winner and gave a tearful acceptance speech in front of an empty set of chairs. That didn’t satisfy him emotionally, so he went on a victory walk past the line of faeries waiting to see Meli. Once again, temperamental Habibi got fed up, snatched the bouquet of roses Monmignon had awarded himself, and handed them to Kabu, telling him they were made of chocolate. Kabu started munching on them but then realized that Habibi had tricked him and began to cry. Monmignon’s poise went out the window, and he pounced on Habibi, starting a maddening tussle of flying hair and swear words. Papo was able to break it up and get everyone to stop, but nobody appreciated his subsequent lecture on the necessity for discipline and his suggestion that they all drop and give him twenty pushups. So they all jumped on Papo until King finally came along and sent everyone home to cool off.
Not everyone was getting into a disagreement. Záchari, for example, had withdrawn to an isolated spot on Olympus and spent a lot of time on his own, working on his lollipop and trying to sort out his emotions. He was having a very tough time getting his mind around the fact that any faerie, including himself, could be dispatched the way Namour had. It was something that had never occurred to him as a possibility, and he wondered why nobody told him that this was a risk. He alternated between feeling lied to by Eros and the Leaders and being mad at himself for being so naïve as not to realize his vulnerability. Ultimately, he didn’t want anything to do with anyone. The only faeries he would let near him were Oppa and Lindo, but even then, he could only take them in small doses. Oppa’s talk about forgiving Eros, the Leaders, and even himself seemed soft and mushy. Lindo’s talk about bucking himself up and channeling his frustration into a powerful inner resource was nice, but it didn’t help with the gap he felt yawning between himself and his teammates. He thanked them both for checking on him and trying to help but told them he’d prefer to be alone. They eventually respected his wishes.
And then there was Dango.
Dango, whose quirky mannerisms up to that point had mirrored those of an Edwardian-era British butler with a clipped accent and an impenetrable emotional demeanor to the end that Ciccino had begun circulating the theory that he was really a robot, was now behaving just like a robot. His upright posture was an unbecoming collection of straight lines and angles. His normal heel-to-toe gait now became a shuffle that lacked any kind of fluidity or grace. His joints seemed to bend with a slow steadiness that suggested hydraulics were responsible for their movement. His face, which had hitherto been host to a snobby sort of disinterest, was now no more animated than that of a grandfather clock. He still acted like an old fashioned butler, but one that needed to have a key inserted into its back and wound up periodically lest it stop working. When he spoke, it was in monotone and the words were the kind of thing one would expect to see on a computer screen. Someone would ask him how he was doing, and he would respond with ‘All systems functioning normally.’ Someone else would ask him if he wanted to play a game of cards, and he would reply with ‘Game application not installed. Please provide software.’ When Meli took it upon himself to ask Dango if he needed someone to talk to, Dango turned his face up, blinked once, and said, ‘Query not understood.’ King, who’s own peace of mind had been stretched to the limit by the double strain of leading the faeries and spending time on Earth trying to help his human, Alek, get back on track, inquired about how Dango’s search for a human counterpart was going. Dango’s response was ‘Search in progress.’ He said nothing more after that.
It was probably the most severe reaction to the circumstances that had befallen the faerie community, and it frightened most of them at first. But enough time passed, and everyone just got used to it, figuring that Dango—just like everyone else—was doing what he thought he had to do to keep himself going. But Záchari, who had once secretly observed Dango smiling while Namour was telling him jokes to try and make him laugh and thus prove he was not a robot, grew increasingly worried by Dango’s behavior.
One evening, long after Monmignon’s flop of a beauty contest, he caught sight of Dango standing in the corner of a room where the all the faeries were congregating after dinner. He was scanning the crowd with intermittent, jerky head movements that were uncharacteristic for him, even in the weird state in which he had been since Namour’s death. Curious, Záchari approached him and put his hand on Dango’s shoulder.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Error. Unit not located.”
“What are you talking about?” Záchari asked.
Dango’s eyes locked on Záchari’s for a moment. “Trust Unit identified. Unable to locate Hope Unit.”
Záchari sighed. Word had already gotten around by that time among the faeries that Eros’s work on the next Guardian of Hope was nearing completion. Papo’s report on Eros’ progress at the Ero Faerie Council Meeting earlier that day had been positive. He had told them that Eros’ had been working nonstop since Namour’s demise and making sure that the newest of their number would be ready to join them any day now. That had calmed things down considerably on Olympus. Most of the arguments were resolved amicably, and angst and grief gave way to an attenuated atmosphere of peace. But the peace was shot through with an edgy anticipation. They all knew their new counterpart would be among them soon and that there would be a period of training and education to follow which gave everyone enough of a motive to set aside their differences so that things could get back to some semblance of normal. But they all knew that the Guardian of Hope tended to be the weakest physically of their kind… and also the one most susceptible to wishful thinking and naïveté. Hope always required extra protection and work to keep that from happening, but they seemed ready to do it. It appeared even Dango was too. At least that’s what he thought Dango meant.
“Dango,” Záchari said kindly. “He’s not here yet. He will be soon.”
Dango’s eyes snapped forward. He blinked twice. “Malfunction,” he said. “Provided input illogical.”
Záchari’s head tilted back. “Say what?”
“Malfunction!” Dango shouted.
The room went silent and all eyes turned to the source of the noise. Záchari, feeling the weight of their stare, put his other hand on Dango’s shoulder. “Okay, buddy,” he said quietly. “Why don’t we just get you home?”
“Hope Unit not located! Provided input illogical!” Dango shrieked. He turned away from the hand that was on his shoulder and walked full speed into the wall closest to him. He hit it with an audible thud, rebounded off it, and charged at it again.
“MALFUNCTION!” Dango was practically screaming by now, but his face was unmoving and emotionless.
“Stop that!” Záchari cried. He tried to take hold of Dango’s upper arms and steer him away from the wall into which he was slamming himself. Instead, Dango fell backward on his shuffling feet. He lay there, kicking his feet into the air, looking like a walking toy that had fallen on its back and didn’t know it was going nowhere on its moving legs.
“MALFUNCTION! MALFUNCTION!”
“Holy shit! I told you he was really a robot!” Ciccino cried, his eyes practically bugging out of his head.
There was a murmur of voices as they began to crowd around the pair. The Leaders saw the circle forming around Dango and Záchari and began to weave their way through the other faeries until they reached the center. The voices of the other faeries rose to a rumble.
“Somebody, do something!”
“Oh hell, he’s finally gone over the edge.”
“Pour water on him. Maybe that will cause him to short circuit.”
“MALFUNCTION! MALFUNCTION!”
“Shut up! This isn’t funny!”
“You all thought I was crazy, but look at him!”
“I’m scared! I need a cookie!”
King got to the center of the ring first with Monmignon and Papo only a second behind him. He grabbed Dango by his starched shirt, hoisted him up and smacked him across the face. He had put his whole arm into the blow, and the sound of it cut through the cacophony. Everyone, including Dango, fell silent.
“That’s a hard reboot!” King barked.
Dango blinked a few times, then said calmly, “Initiating restart sequence.”
King laid Dango back down and released him. Dango lay where he was, ostensibly restarting his hard drive. King stood up slowly and looked all around him. They were all looking at him with their eyes wide and their jaws hanging open.
“Everybody, go home,” he said quietly. “We’ll take him to Eros tomorrow and Eros will summon Asclepius to give him a checkup.”
For a moment, they stood only stood there, letting King’s words sink into their minds. Then they began to leave in groups of twos and threes. Kabu, who was munching on a cookie with tears in his eyes, was led out by Smink and Jaanu. Habibi and Oppa, who normally didn’t like each other, walked out together with their arms over each other’s shoulders. Meli and Bébé, who remained behind until everyone had left, closed the doors on their way out. Only Záchari, Dango, and the Leaders remained.
“Fuckers!” spat Záchari once they had the place to themselves. “Now do you understand why I don’t want to work with any of them?”
“Záchari, it’s not their fault…” Monmignon began.
“You’re right! It’s not!” Záchari yelled. “It’s yours!”
“Mine?” Monmignon asked, putting his hands on his hips.
“All of you!” Záchari shot back, swinging his finger in an arc that connected all three of the Leaders. “Did you have to let this robot bullshit go on for as long as it did?”
“Yes,” King said, stepping up to Záchari until there was less than a foot between their chests. His tail was whipping furiously behind him. “We had to.”
“Why?” demanded Záchari.
“Because,” King said, folding his arms and drilling the other faerie with his gaze, “he is Sincerity. And accordingly, if he is not permitted to act exactly how he feels at the moment or is forced to be something else, he will cease to exist.” He took another step closer, and bared his teeth. “Don’t you understand that? It’s like you deliberately breaking your promise or word, or me telling Eros to stuff it and walk away out of exasperation. It can’t be done or we die, and it’s not a death like Namour’s. If we go that way, we can’t… be… recreated.”
All eyes except for Dango’s were now on King, and it was the first time that any of them saw him as their real leader. It was also the first time King felt that way about himself.
“The only one who knows how to get around that problem is Dr. Asclepius,” King said, turning around and looking at Dango who lay on the floor, still and silent. The others circled around him. “He’ll know what to do.”
3. CUSTOM CONCENTRATION
In the still and quiet night, a pair of bare feet made deliberate heel-to-toe steps through the darkened passageway, down a grand staircase, and past Eros’ glittering throne in the main hall. Eventually, they carried their owner to an enormous painting of Eros’ gorgeous mother, Aphrodite. A hand reached out and touched the edge of the painting. Sure enough, it rotated on a central axis in the middle of the frame. The door to the laboratory was there. The figure lurking in the shadows shook its head. It had been too easy to find this place. Both the size of the painting and the fact that it was the only painting in the entire palace practically gave away the fact that there was a secret room behind it.
And this is why Eros is a lesser deity; he’s about as clever as a box of rocks.
It may not have been appropriate to think that about his master, but by then, Dango had pretty much stopped caring about what was appropriate. After all, he had been making a complete ass of himself in front of the other faeries long before that humiliating scene after dinner the other night. But in retrospect, it had been worth it. It had gotten him inside Eros’ palace, a place usually never seen by faeries other than the Leaders. And now here he was, only one door away from his objective.
It had been exhausting to watch all the tension and bickering on Olympus that had resulted from Hope’s absence, and he was feeling drained. Getting out of bed and facing the day’s tasks was hard. It was harder to maintain the certain degree of stoicism that he had relied on for years before this tragedy had befallen his community. And most of all, he couldn’t stop recalling the one time that Namour had managed to find the crack in his veneer and get him to smile with a bunch of really dumb jokes. That last thing had been the hardest to deal with; it came up in his mind every morning with the sunrise and lingered long after dark. No matter how much he tried to keep his emotions wrapped up tightly so he could go about the butler’s duties that made him feel emotionally and spiritually fulfilled, Dango couldn’t do it any longer.
Dango knew that Ciccino had suspected he was a robot.
Maybe it was worth trying.
For a while, he spent a few minutes every morning before leaving his room, looking in the mirror and talking to his reflection. You can do it, old chap, he would say. Just until Hope returns. Just be a robot so you can get done what you have to get done. Shut everything down but the mechanical stuff. Be… a goddam… robot!
At first, it worked. It disturbed everyone around him, but it helped him get through the day. The chores got done, and the place was immaculate, just as he liked it. But then, much to his surprise, he discovered that it hurt worse to be a robot. It was, in fact, running contrary to his essence. He felt like his authentic self was fading away, and something about that feeling frightened him more than seeing the chaos around him. But by then, he had gone too far just to stop acting like a robot and return to his usual self. He was, in fact, afraid to do it. Even so, he knew if he didn’t stop, he would fade away into nothingness. He didn’t know how he knew it, but he knew it was happening. That frightened him even more. So Dango had done the only thing he knew he could do in his current state; he threw a robotic tantrum.
At some level, it was cathartic, but after it was over, he just wanted to stay there until the faerie he had always been returned to him. As he lay there listening to King tell Záchari that every faerie had to be permitted to act per their nature lest they cease to exist, Dango had almost wept with relief. At some level, King got it.
But robots didn’t cry, and neither did he. Not before this, and certainly not now.
Dango knew he really didn’t need to see Eros or Asclepius, but he went along with the Leaders’ wishes and permitted them to escort him to the palace where Eros resided. Later, as he thought about it, he realized it probably wasn’t a bad idea. He knew that talking to both of them would help him to feel better and get back to his usual self. They would understand. He also suspected that the other faeries probably needed him to vacate the premises for a bit so that they could regroup after his outburst. It was only fair. So he coöperated and went but still acted like a robot on the way. He knew he had to for just a bit longer.
Dango stood there, silent and unmoving while the Leaders explained to Eros why they had brought him there. He answered all questions direct at him with ‘affirmative’ or negative.’ When he heard that Asclepius was coming to administer the essential cocktail that would be the final touches of the Guardian of Hope save some cosmetic changes, he relaxed inside a bit. But that was also when he saw the painting, intuitively knew what was behind it, and began to be seized with another idea.
He had to see the new Guardian of Hope. If he could just see it, he’d be okay.
And now, with the door to its location only a few feet away from him, Dango began to feel a wiry-thin nervousness shooting through his heart. His mind filled with visions of Dr. Frankenstein’s enormous subterranean operating theater and an eight-foot monster with a block-like head and electrodes on his neck laying on a slab under iron restraints.
Don’t be ridiculous. It won’t be like that.
There was a slight step up to get to the small passageway on the other side of the painting. Dango gained it and rotated the painting back to its original position. As it clicked back in place, a dim light illuminated the channel that led to the door of the laboratory. Dango walked the twelve feet or so to the front door of the lab. There was no keypad above the doorknob and the knob itself didn’t look like it had a slot for a key. He highly doubted it would be that easy to get past it, but even so, he grasped the knob and twisted it. The door opened with out noise or protest.
Well, I’ll be gobsmacked! Perhaps the box of rocks would be more clever!
Dango pushed the door open, reached inside, and felt for a light switch. He found it and pushed it up. There was a brief strobe effect as three long fluorescent lights flickered to life and lit the room. Dango went inside and closed the door behind him.
It was not Dr. Frankenstein’s lab he was standing in, but rather a place that looked like an ordinary hospital room. There was a bed, a curtain drawn back against a wall, a swivel chair, and a large gray contraption that looked like an X-ray machine, a desktop computer, and an IV infusion device all cobbled together. He doubted that this was where the Guardian of Hope had been created, but he suspected that this was where it was going to be finished. He looked in the bed. There was a small hump under a sheet on it. A thick clutch of tubes and wires ran from the big grey machine to the lump under the sheet.
It’s him!
With his heart thudding in his chest, Dango approached the bed and looked at its occupant. The figure lying there was covered up to the ribcage, and its arms were at its side resting on top of the sheet. It looked like a human male — a very young one too, maybe eighteen years old at most. His wings were folded over his shoulders and around his upper arms in the way that he and many of the other fairies found most comfortable when they slept. He had a wild crop of thick pink hair sticking out in every direction with two braids that hung in front of his large pointed ears and stopped just above his clavicle; it reminded Dango of the way King had styled his luxurious tawny mane. The heart-shaped mark on his chest, which all of them had, was white like Zachari’s. Around it, the skin was a soft, rosy color that was a little deeper around his eyes… eyes that were a radiant shade of cerulean… eyes that did not blink or move. His facial expression at that moment was a sharp contrast to the one his predecessor had had. Where Namour had appeared bright-eyed and optimistic, the faerie in the bed had a look of determination and discipline, not too dissimilar from Papo’s. It was a beautiful face, but Dango had a hard time imagining it as the face of Hope; it looked more like the face of Cut The Shit.
Did we all look like this when we were first made? So bold and certain?
Dango looked at the wires and tubes that connected the faerie to the machine in the corner, wondering if the no-nonsense look on that youthful face was going to change when they filled up the shell laying there with the essential cocktail that Asclepius had come to help administer. He leaned over the bed and looked into the face of the faerie lying there, wondering if, even after the cocktail was administered, if the faerie lying would have any clue how much was riding on his shoulders. Summoning all his courage, he reached up and touched the face of the figure lying in the bed. His skin wasn’t cold, but it felt lifeless even so. The feeling made Dango shiver, and he retracted his hand and backed away from the bed. As he did so, he accidentally bumped into the large grey machine to which the body in the bed was connected. He yelped and then clapped both hands to his mouth to stifle any noise.
The computer screen had come to life, and on the blue desktop was a single icon of a folder. The title of the file was CHÉRI.
Dango knew he should get the hell out of here, but that computer screen with its sole document had captivated him. He’d spent way too much time being a robot, and even though he was scared and feeling guilty for sneaking his way in here, it was more alive than he had felt in a long time. He couldn’t help himself. He sat down in the swivel chair, took the mouse, and clicked on the file folder.
A new window opened on the screen showing an insane list of files and embedded folders. Looking at them all made Dango dizzy, but a few of them caught his attention right away. He clicked on one called ‘HopeFaerWIP_347802’ and another window filled the screen. It was a long document filled with technical terminology and calculations the likes of which would have left a mathematician’s mind swirling. Occasionally, there were passages of text here and there, but for the most part, it made no sense to Dango. He scrolled through anyway and chanced upon a couple of designs that showed possible permutations of the new faerie’s form. One of the earliest showed a version that looked similar to Namour in his humanoid form but had the large ears and barely visible tail of a koala. Another showed Namour with ears and a tail like a kinkajou. In a third, all traces of Namour were gone, having been replaced with the human parts of a female human in her mid-thirties. The next one showed a younger and more muscular version of that same woman. This time the tail and the ears were that of a red panda. A few pages later, the ears and tail were still there, but now it was a sinewy young human male, maybe a little older than the one in the bed. The final drawing showed something similar to the figure in the bed, only it was blue with bright pink eyes… the exact opposite color scheme of the real final version.
Having finished it, Dango closed that file and opened a different one. It was entitled ‘APPR_plushform_28xp’. Now on the screen, there was a three-dimensional rendering of a winged red panda whose natural colors had been replaced with the same colors of pink and rouge as the faerie in the bed. Its ringed tail was every color of the rainbow with violet starting at the base and red at its tip. Its wings were spread as far apart as they could go. The image was spinning in a slow circle that showed every angle. Dango moved the mouse slightly, and the image began to spin in a head-over-heels manner. He moved it in another direction, and the image was doing cartwheels. Dango watched it spin and realized he was looking at the version his human counterpart would see and smiled.
I sure hope the human that works with him likes cutesy things.
Eventually, Dango closed that file and clicked on another one whose title was ‘CUSTOM CONCENTRATION.’
It took a particularly long time to upload, but when it did, a bar graph appeared on the screen. The Y-axis of the graph was was marked with with points that started at 10% and increased by ten to 100%. The X-axis of was a string of index values whose titles were things like COMPASSION, INTEL.-QUANT., EROT. FACT., STRATEGY, DETERMINATION, INTEL.-ANALYTIC, RESILIENCE, TEMPER, EGO, MOTIVATION, and so on. Over each index value were two vertical bars, one tan and one pink. Dango looked and noticed that the bars were never the exactly same height over each index value. Over DETERMINATION, the pink bar was much taller than the tan one. Over COMPASSION, the tan one was slightly higher. The pink bar was higher for other categories RESILIENCE, CUTENESS, and INTEL.-QUANT. was higher. The tan one was taller for PHYS. STRENGTH, LEADERSHIP, and SKILL SET - WEAP. The pink bar over B.S. TOLERANCE was practically non-existent. Below the index values were two squares, each one the same colors as the bars on the graph above them. The tan one had ‘Namour/CONTROL’ written next to it. Written next to the pink one was ‘Chéri.’
Below that were several lines of text:
- 80302621 EROS: CONFIRM LEVELS COMPLY WITH FAILSAFE MEASURES. END.
- 80302622 ASCLEP: WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU BUILDING IN THERE? HOPE FAERIE OR
PINK VERSION OF OSCAR THE GROUCH? END.
- 80302623 EROS: CAN’T HAVE SECOND TERMIN. FAILSAFE IN PLACE TO PREVENT.
NEED LESS SUNSHINE AND MORE PWR. CONCENTRATIONS IN ACCEPTABLE RANGE
OR NOT? DON’T HAVE ALL DAY. ALL HELL IS BREAKING LOOSE. END.
- 80302624 ASCLEP: CONFIRMED CONCENTRATIONS ARE IN RANGE. HE’S GONNA BE A
MOUTHY LITTLE THING. RECOMMEND LOWER WEAPON APTITUDE AND HIGHER CUTE
FACTOR. END.
- 80302625 EROS: CONCUR. WILL MAKE ADJUSTMENTS. YOU MAKE THE SOUP. END.
Dango closed the document and looked back at the faerie lying in the bed waiting for his soup whose content was made up of the elements along the X-axis of the graph he’d been reading. Higher concentrations of some emotional elements and skills than Namour and lower in others. A mouthy thing? Lower weapon aptitude? Failsafe range? Even Asclepius wasn’t sure it was going to be like any version of Hope he had ever seen.
Failsafe, though… that one word wouldn’t go away. It was supposed to mean some kind of a secure mode in case of a breakdown or malfunction. Was one of them worried that the essential cocktail would be dangerous? Were they concerned it wouldn’t be effective as Hope and had a plan to bring it back to make adjustments?
He looked at the screen and scrolled through the content of the main directory until he found a document that might explain it. It was entitled ‘CHERI-FAILSAFEv1.3.’
He was about to click on it when he heard the voice behind him.
“Sorry, Dango. That file is password protected.”
Dango sprang out of the chair with a yelp and spun around to see who was behind him. It was Eros, leaning against the door with his arms folded and a look on his face that perfectly balanced amusement and irritation.
“Can’t tell it to you either,” the deity said, standing up and relaxing his arms.
“How did you get in here?” Dango asked, completely forgetting for the moment that he was the one who was trespassing.
Eros vanished in a flash of glittery pink light and then reappeared right in front of Dango. “Forgot I could do this, didn’t you?”
Dango had. He looked over his shoulder at the computer, then over the other at the faerie lying in the bed, and then back at Eros who was staring at him with one eyebrow raised.
“I... I beg your pardon, My Lord,” he stammered.
“Don’t be silly,” Eros said. “I’ve been waiting all night for you to find this place.”
Confusion twisted Dango’s face. “My Lord?”
Eros pointed at the door behind him with his thumb. “Why do you think I left the door unlocked and the painting able to swivel? If you hadn’t figured it out on your own, I was going to take you on a walk through the palace to the painting and give you some puzzle that would clue you into trying to give it a spin.”
“I…” Dango began. He wasn’t sure how to finish.
“You did need to see Chéri,” Eros told him. “You needed to see all of this to make you feel a little better, but there is another reason that you might not be aware of.”
“There is, My Lord?” Dango finally managed.
“Yes,” Eros said, turning Dango around to face the faerie lying in the bed. “You needed what really happens when you store emotions and essence somewhere else, my child. You become like that — unable to do anything but lay there and be of no use to anybody. If that happens to Sincerity, there will be deceit and hypocrisy all around, and Hope couldn’t possibly thrive in that kind of environment.”
Eros turned Dango around again and held his face his hands. “Chéri needs you fully there if Hope’s ever going to make a full return. It’s important, Dango. Now more than ever.”
The tears welled in Dango’s eyes and he began to cry. Eros drew him to his chest and held him, rubbing small circles into his back.
4. ACCESS DENIED
“You’re pretty lucky” Asclepius said, as he hung the bag containing the completed essential cocktail from the rod above the bed and began tapping keys on the console of the infusion device. “Not even the Leaders get to see this happen.”
“He will be the only one,” Eros said. He turned to Dango who was standing next to him and put his arm on the faerie’s shoulder. “Isn’t that right?”
Dango nodded. “Yes, My Lord.”
“You can’t stay for the whole thing,” Eros told him. “It’s going to take at least a day or so to complete.”
“You also can’t be here for this,” Asclepius said touching the part of the machine that looked like an X-ray. “Nobody can. Not even me.”
“Understood.”
Eros gave Dango’s shoulder a small squeeze and then looked up at Asclepius. He nodded once, and Asclepius entered the final sequence of commands on the infusion device, and pushed a large green circular pad on in the lower right corner with his thumb. The console and the computer both flickered to life. The screens on both were covered in a crazy explosion of green letters, numbers, and symbols for a moment before showing a matching set of charts that monitored vital signs. For a long time nothing happened, then suddenly the computer began to issue a slow, but steady series of beeps. On one portion of the screen, a straight line suddenly became a jagged one… then another… and then another.
“We have a heartbeat,” Asclepius noted.
“It’s alive!” Eros cried in a poor imitation of Dr. Frankenstein.
Asclepius rolled his eyes. “Hilarious,” he commented. “In fact, it just gets funnier every time you do it.”
Dango heard neither of them. He looked briefly at the awakening life sign monitors and then at the bed. In it, Chéri’s chest was starting to rise and fall and his eyes were beginning to blink. As he watched, he noticed two things start to happen within his own soul. The first was that any interest in being a robot had vanished completely. The second was that all of his other emotions, which had been ramped up to almost intolerable levels, finally calmed down. For a moment, it felt like a warm, snug blanket had been drawn around him, and he relished the feeling. But it soon faded and with it came an enormous sense of responsibility and a need for order. His hands were itching to hold a feather-duster or a tray of drinks. He wanted to clean something more than he had ever wanted to in his life. He straightened himself up, pulled his shirt taut and brought his arms to his side. On his face was a look of almost aristocratic pride and entitlement.
“I should like to resume my duties now, My Lord,” he said, making a small, quick turn to the left so that he was facing Eros.
Eros’ smile was broad and bright. “Good to have you back, Jeeves. But you’re still going to take a couple more days to recuperate.”
“As the professional physician here, I must concur,” added Asclepius with a raised finger.
“Oh, bother!” huffed Dango as his posture collapsed slightly.
Dango did remain with Eros for two more days, during which he did anything but convalesce. Rather than relaxing and taking his time getting his head and heart back together, he dusted and tidied almost every room in the palace, stopping only when everything was up to his level of cleanliness. By the end of the two days, Eros himself, was more than happy to send Dango back home. As much as he appreciated the effort and liked the results, his own housekeeping staff was starting to grumble at the intrusion and demanded to know why the hell this stranger was polishing silverware that had polished themselves only an hour earlier. It was time. Eros personally escorted Dango to the front door where the butler took his leave with a deep bow and a firm but unemotional handshake. As he closed the door behind him, Eros fell against it, sighed with a combination of relief and happiness, and then went to go check on Chéri.
Upon Dango’s return, the other faeries were timid at first, but they greeted him warmly anyway. King had organized a welcome home party for him, but it turned into more of a pointing-and-giggling session among the other faeries. After all, the guest of honor was collecting used plates and cutlery, offering refills of coffee from a silver carafe, and wiping up the occasional pile of crumbs on the tablecloth. Ciccino who still wasn’t convinced that Dango wasn’t a robot, began wondering aloud if he had just had to be reprogrammed, which elicited a hearty laugh from those within earshot. Dango did not laugh with them, but when no one was looking, raised one eyebrow and one corner of his mouth in a look that would have assured Ciccino that he had only an inkling of how correct he was.
The Leaders watched it all happen from a corner of the same room where, only a week or so earlier, there had been chaos and turmoil. At some point, they looked at each other and shared the same knowing smile. Things were starting to get back to normal.
A little more than a week later, all the faeries were lined up outside of Eros’ palace again. Only this time it was not a sad occasion; this time they were about to meet the newest member of their cadre. There was a lot of discussion going on behind the three Leaders, who were probably the most nervous of the whole group. Only Dango, seemed calm and collected.
The doors finally opened, and Eros stepped forward with Chéri at his side. For a moment, no one could breathe as they got their first glimpse of the new Guardian of Hope. Murmurs quickly arose behind the leaders, who were approaching with warm smiles but also nervousness glistening in their eyes.
“That’s our new Hope?”
“He looks so young.”
“Pink? Really?”
“He’s amazing looking, but will he be strong?”
“Looks kinda like a snot-nosed brat.”
Dango listened to them all and smiled inwardly. In some way, it was a relief to know they felt the same way he did at first.
Chéri noticed the apprehension among the faeries too. He turned to Eros with his eyes drawn down in a combination of bitterness and unadulterated self-righteousness. “Why are they whispering about me?”
“Because, Chéri, they have been waiting a long time for you and want to believe in you,” Eros said. “Don’t worry, child. They will eventually.”
The look on Chéri’s face changed into one of puzzlement for a moment. Then he shook his head as if to clear away the expression, and stood up straight as the Leaders arrived. King put his hands on his bended knees. He was now eye-level with the new faerie, and as he looked into the sparkling blue eyes of his newest teammate, King felt something inside him relax. There was no rush of euphoria or sigh of relief; just some internal spring that had been wound too tight was finally relaxing. It wasn’t hope like he had felt it before, but it was recognizable.
“Hello, lad,” King finally said.
“Hi,” Chéri said. It was a terse and diffident greeting.
King’s mouth curved up in a small, tight grin. “We’re so happy to have you amongst us.”
Chéri’s posture tightened. It almost looked as if he had grown two or three inches in front of their faces. The smile that appeared on his face was brimming over with confidence that they had never seen on Namour’s face.
“I’m ready,” Chéri declared, tilting his nose up slightly. He took a bold step forward and made a sharp about-face. Now he was standing with the Leaders, facing Eros.
King’s smile widened even more as he rose to his full height. Behind him, Papo let one small huff of approval escape his nose. Monmignon looked pleased.
“Before you take him home,” Eros said, “I have something for him.”
“You do?” asked King.
Eros nodded and produced a golden halo from the folds of his robe. The color was a little different from the others but it was also strangely familiar. Monmignon gasped with delight when he realized it had been made from the recycled gold of Namour’s crown and began to cry tears of joy. Eros held the halo over the young faerie’s head, flicked it once with his finger which produced a loud ping, and released it. The halo stayed put. Behind the Leaders, the faeries heard the sound and cheered.
Chéri rushed forward and threw his arms around Eros’ waist. It was both a startling and endearing move for the others to behold. None of them would have ever touched their maker, but somehow the gesture made them all stand up a little straighter.
“Good luck, my child,” Eros said as he hugged the young faerie close and then released him.
“I’ll make you proud,” Chéri stated, then rejoined the group of leaders.
Eros looked around at the group in front of him. “You all will. I know it.”
With that, Eros bowed his head in farewell. The Leaders and Chéri did the same. Eros returned to the confines of his palace and the faeries made a one-eighty and headed back to the gate where the others were waiting. Three of them walked; the youngest was marching in a way that almost convinced Papo to join in.
Young Chéri proved to be quite the handful. He was a driven little thing with almost no patience, but an enormous amount of determination. He learned at a frightening speed for most things and was often way ahead of the schedule that had been drawn up for his education. He learned well, but never seemed fully satisfied with his own efforts. He also got very impatient with faeries like Jaanu and Thor who tried to teach him the value of slowing down and remembering to appreciate the principles behind the skills he was learning. He eventually would get them, but not without a lot of grumbling. He was also often a little too direct is his mannerisms and it was tough to get him to exercise some tact. He seldom laughed but often made wry, acerbic witticisms that everyone, especially Habibi, found deliciously funny.
Even with all his shortcomings, Chéri brought to them a kind of hope unlike any they had experienced before. It was shot through with uneasiness and uncertainty, but as they watched him learn and grow they felt themselves relax a bit more and assume their own duties with a bit more of a feeling that things were going to be okay in the long run. He provided them with an optimism that was not like Namour’s brand of tearful, relief-filled joy or his tendency towards positive but wishful thinking, but one that seemed to have an inner core that was made of stuff too firm to be cracked.
“It’s weird,” Záchari said to a group of faeries who were commenting on the difference sometime after dinner once. Chéri was at the opposite end of the room reciting an original poem he had written for the Leaders. “But it’s like… I’m nervous while I teach him, but I know he’s going to succeed and I don’t worry.”
“How you mean?” Frett asked.
“Well, the other day, we were doing trust falls from a cliff into the lagoon and before I could even get in the water and swim to a place where I could haul him up if he had trouble resurfacing, he was already in the middle of his free-fall… and before I even got a few feet away from the shore, he popped right back up, cheering and pumping his fist. It’s like there was no bucking him up or telling him to do that thing Namour used to do to you guys when he’d tell you to envision the best possible outcome before falling back. It’s like… he works on faith.”
“On faith, you say?” Lindo asked.
“Yeah,” Záchari said. “It’s kinda neat, actually.”
“It’s different, for sure,” said Meli. “He’s different.”
“Well, he is made of slightly different stuff than his predecessor.”
They all turned and looked at the person who last spoke. It was Dango, who was still collecting empty glasses and setting them on a tray.
All the others in the group looked stunned, but Záchari was the first to speak.
“Uh… let’s just set aside the fact that that’s the most words I’ve ever heard you say since I’ve known you,” he remarked, putting his hand on his hip. “What I want to know is how the hell you know that he’s made of different stuff, Dango!”
Dango’s expression went blank, and his eyes widened. His mouth became a straight line and his back went painfully straight. His face went from one faerie to the next in small, jerky movements, and then back to Záchari’s.
“Access denied,” he said in a monotone voice. Then his posture and face resumed their normal appearance and he heel-toed off to the kitchen with the tray of glasses.
Záchari ran his hands down his face, stretching his good looks temporarily. The others around him began to chuckle. In the hallway, Dango heard their laughter and smiled to himself again.