I'll Ask the Questions

"Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say."

They say it so fast that it almost sounds like one sentence rather than two conflicting opinions. And it has me leaning backwards out of their line of sight, has me settling into the couch's threadbare cushions for the long haul, because if there's one thing I know about the twins, it's that they're nowhere near 'two households, both alike in dignity' levels of comparison. No. They're rough edges and polar opposites and, honestly, if I hadn't been friends with Javi first and known that he had identical twin sisters, I would never guess it by looking at them. Sure, the baby pictures are identical and they have the same crooked smile, but Grace has more freckles on her right arm, and Xeda has a seatbelt scar on the left side of her neck. They couldn't be more different, even if they were wearing someone else's face. But right now, both of them practically foaming at the mouth, Grace and Xeda going head-to-head, I've never seen them look so alike.

Xeda's fact and Grace's denial; two peas in a pod.

"Okay, seriously, who is 'they'?" Xeda asks. "Who is this mysterious being that disputes an age old fact?"

"Don't sound so righteous," Grace snarks. "Scientists, Xeda, scientists say so. Kit Frowl. Duane Collins. Trystan Lowell."

"Grace Daglan?"

"Ya'know what? Yes! Grace Daglan says so, too. I really do."

"That's ridiculous," Xeda dismisses.

"What's ridiculous is your blatant refusal--"

"I'm not going to go against a proven scientific fact just because the mechanics of a liminal space within the vacuum of our galaxy caught the eye of some new-age theoretical-expert--whatever."

"Okay, stop saying 'new-age' like it's a bad word. Scientific advancement isn't some horrible thing for you to put down."

"There's just no way that after a hundred thirty-five years of space exploration, some fourteen year old with a boner for the moon has all the answers in the universe."

"That fourteen year old's name is Doctor Jaik Vrbeczk, and he's eighteen now and quite literally living on a different planet," Grace shoots back defensively. "I honestly trust his opinion and published scientific findings more than I trust your blind faith in whatever crusty old dude wrote your Intro to Space Travel textbook in the 2000s. Like, Xeda, seriously, it's 2104, get with it already."

I tune them out as Xeda raises her voice for her rebuttal, letting my body tip sideways on the couch. It's a familiar feeling, being caught between an unstoppable force and an immovable object, but not in a bad way. It's comforting that they can allow themselves to be angry with each other about stupid things, comforting to know that they still function like living, breathing human beings after everything that's happened. Honestly, if it were me with the freaky-deaky clone and the brain dead older brother, I probably wouldn't have it in me to get out of bed in the morning, let alone start a meaningless, repetitive, beaten-to-death-like-the-metaphorical-horse-that-it-is argument.

And it almost feels like Javi is going to walk in the room, shaking his head in disbelief and carrying the drinks he'd left to get, and ask, "Alright, Mac, what'd you say this time?" I'd say, "Dude, literally nothing," or, "Why do you always assume it's me that's the problem, and not the super genius wonder twins over there?" But he doesn't do any walking and I don't do any explaining. He doesn't really do much of anything anymore, unless laying motionless while Velren tech and brute force keep his body alive counts as 'doing something'.

I sit back up and spare a glance across the room to where Javi lives now, to where Grace and Xeda and their parents remodeled his bedroom to fit the machines that he now depends on. And I think, "Javi, dude, I just asked if a tree were to fall in the greenhouse on Mars would it make a sound, and they went insane. You gotta help me," at the mess of wires and piles of hand-stitched blankets he's buried under. And I take a deep breath.

"So...is anyone gonna answer my question?"