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—Fireball—
“Have a wonderful time!” calls the Renegade Pearl, waving out the van window. “I’ll swing around to get you after my book club!”
“Thanks!” Fireball waves back with one nub; Comet’s hand rests lightly on the other. “Enjoy your club!”
“What is a book club?” Comet murmurs.
Fireball hums, unsure. “Maybe we can try that for our next date and find out.”
“It’s important for a healthy fusion to spend some time apart,” says Garnet’s voice out of nowhere. Startled, Fireball turns to look; she finds only Sneak, pressed up against the wall of the building. “You should try to develop your own interests, even if you’re doing them together,” Sneak says, a perfect imitation.
“You were spying on fusion class?”
Sneak shrugs. “Trees are nice for hiding.”
“Trees are pretty nice in general,” Mushroom agrees, watching this exchange with hands in her pockets. “But let’s head inside and try this bowling thing, huh?”
“Let’s.”
Moonlight Lanes, Bayburg is a huge, dark room punctuated with bright neon, buzzing with the inexplicable activities of humans and rumbling with sound that rises and falls like the ocean. It’s intimidating enough to pull Fireball up short, until a human with surprisingly pink hair looks up at them from behind the front counter, and blinks in something like recognition. “Hey,” she greets. “Uh...first time bowling?”
“Yes,” Fireball agrees, relieved. “How could you tell?”
The woman gives a sideways smile and scratches her cheek. “Just a hunch. Don’t worry, I can show you how it works. A game and shoe rental for the three of you?”
“Four of us,” Comet corrects, and Sneak, folded down into a ball below the counter, stretches up a hand to wave.
“Four of you. Right.”
As Comet draws their billfold from the Renegade out of her gem, Fireball takes in the wall of cubbies behind the desk; each one holds a pair of shoes, funny multicolored shoes that the humans here are all wearing. She flexes her toes, suddenly apprehensive.
“...maybe an eleven?” the human mumbles, leaning over the counter to look down at their feet. “Wish we had narrows. Try these, see if they’re comfortable.”
Uncertain, Fireball gives a few pulsing flashes of the luminescent skin of her arms. What if I need my feet?
Comet’s face tilts toward her, the gem on her cheek seeking the light. The patches on her face flicker. Take one off when you need to. It’ll be okay.
Fireball’s answering flash is more feeling than language, a surge of nerves, but Comet’s hand finds her waist and rests there, grounding.
It takes a few tries—and some help with the shoelaces—to get them all fitted. “I like this look,” Mushroom says, regarding her feet with a slow smile. “Do we need those too?” She gestures at the human’s shirt and the others like it hanging behind the counter, squarish with buttoned fronts and blocky stripes of color. “Because I’m into that.”
The human grins. “You can if you want to! Those aren’t rentals though, you have to buy them.”
“Do we have enough for that?” Mushroom asks, and Comet pulls the wad of bills from her gem again.
“Maybe?”
“Definitely,” the human says. “Pick out whichever ones you like.”
Comet helps Fireball roll the sleeves up on the one she chooses. Mine’s got flames, she flashes as her nubs are uncovered.
Comet grins. And mine?
Pink, she tells her, and a stripe of black and white squares.
We’ll come back and wear them again, Comet says, smoothing her collar with a fond smile.
When they rejoin Mushroom and Sneak across the kaleidescopic carpet, the human is gesturing to racks of colored spheres. “So, these are your bowling balls. You roll these down the lane to knock over as many pins as you can.” She lifts one, slotting her fingers into holes in the side of the ball. “Just be careful not to throw them too hard.”
Immediately Sneak darts out to grab one and tucks herself between the racks holding it to her chest, dark green against the deep red stripes of her shirt. While Mushroom browses, Comet taps the gem on her cheek. “Is there one this color?”
Fireball steps over to the nearest rack; there’s a ball swirling with orange and yellow that she likes the look of. When she glances back, Comet is cradling a ball of glittering purple. “It’s so smooth,” she says, tracing the holes with her fingertips. “Like a pearl.”
Her expression is so delighted, it eases Fireball’s nerves. She toes off one of the funny shoes and rolls the orange ball out onto the carpet. She’s surprised to find it doesn’t seem heavy at all—but then, the Renegade did warn them that humans aren’t as strong as Gems. Experimentally she slides her toes into two of the holes, and lifts.
“Oh hey!” exclaims the human, grinning. “That’s cool. I was wondering.”
“It’s all right?” Fireball asks, placing the ball gently down again and rolling it back and forth under her foot.
She shrugs. “S’fine with me, and I’m the shift manager, so.” She holds out her fist, with her thumb sticking up. Fireball grins; when she copies the gesture with her foot, sticking a toe up in the air, the human laughs.
—Mushroom—
The more she learns about organic life, the more infinite their variety seems. Somewhere, sometime, while Mushroom was wandering the Earth corrupted, a human rolled a ball into some sticks and invented this game. The human who’s been helping them (“Sheena,” her nametag reads) is explaining the rules, showing them how to use the primitive scoring system, demonstrating bowling form. It’s so simple in concept, but ingenious. She tries to imagine Homeworld gems inventing games, creative ways to spend their time that have nothing to do with usefulness, and can’t fathom it. Maybe now, in Era 3, but she’s not inclined to return and find out.
No, she’d much rather be here. She likes the feel of this place, the clashing colors, the relaxed atmosphere. It’s ugly, and doesn’t care that it is—everyone here expects and accepts exactly what’s offered.
“Have fun,” Sheena tells them, satisfied they know the rules, “and come get me if you need help, okay?”
“Okay!” Fireball replies, chipper; the discolored patches on her skin flicker with light, and Comet’s flicker back. Mushroom thinks they must be talking that way, though it’s impossible to know what was said; somehow Gem life is proving almost as varied as the organics. “Comet, the machine says you’re up first.”
“Point me at it,” Comet replies with a laugh, cradling her ball in her hands. Her skin flickers again, and Fireball nudges her forward.
“Just follow the lights.” Comet nods and tips her gemmed cheek toward the lane, outlined in neon green with the bright white goal of the pins at the end. Slow and careful, she steps up toward the line and sends the ball gently rolling with both hands.
Fireball cheers as it goes. “Right down the middle!”
“Right down the middle!” Sneak repeats, tucked under the molded plastic seats.
With a clatter the ball cracks into the center pin, sending the others ricocheting away. Only three pins are left as Comet’s skin flickers madly and Fireball’s answers; they laugh. Mushroom, seated at the scoring console, enters the roll as Sheena showed them and a 7 appears on the screen above their heads.
It’s a pleasant rhythm—someone takes a turn, Mushroom enters the score, they celebrate or groan or laugh when the ball spins in unexpected directions. They’re getting the hang of things, and in the moments of calm waiting for the ball return, Mushroom watches the humans.
There are plenty of them: humans bowling, humans playing games in the arcade in the corner, humans in booths eating food and drinking beer. She wasn’t sure if Bayburg would be as welcoming to Gems as Beach City, but nobody’s batted an eye so far even though they’re the only non-humans here.
When it’s her turn, she lets all the bustle fade away as she lines up her shot. Focused, she copies what the humans do—four steps and a little slide, one leg crossed behind the other as the toe of her shoe taps the glossy floor. Her ball spins lazily down the lane and sails into the pins just left of center.
“You could pull ahead this round!” Fireball calls to her as the machine sweeps the fallen pins away, “Comet’s in the lead but you’re close!”
“I’m in the lead?” says Comet with surprise, and Fireball laughs.
“You sure are. And Sneak’s been in third since the last round, but I’ll catch back up.”
The ball return rumbles and spits Mushroom’s ball out onto the rack; eyeing the four pins left, she lines up her second shot. They’re clustered, so she’s got a chance at a spare.
“Where is Sneak, anyway?”
She sends her ball down the right side of the lane, and can’t help but tip her head as if to steer it as it starts to waver in the other direction; it clips a pin at the edge, and the ricochet knocks over all but one.
“So close!” Fireball groans behind her—then, as Mushroom stares down the lane in frustration, a dark green hand darts down from the hidden space inside the wall, knocking the final pin over.
—Sneak—
It’s loud here. There’s so much movement, so many lights, so many humans. The shoes are interesting—she’ll hang on to those—and the shimmery bowling ball is lovely to hold. She doesn’t want to let go of it, but she’s trying to know other pearls, and the ones she’s with are strange but they’ve been kind, so she rolled her ball down the wooden lane when they told her to. It came back, through the rumbling machines in the wall and under the floor, and that! That was intriguing.
She watches as the others play this game, watches Mushroom watching the room, watches Comet and Fireball have conversations of flashing light. This is pearls, having fun together. It feels safe, even though she’s out in the open.
Still, she can only take so much. It’s easy to slip away; nobody notices her if she doesn’t want them to. There are dim corners, doors that say “Employees Only,” locks she can pick in less than five seconds. There’s darkness, inside the walls. No quiet; the machinery is still working, whirring, scraping, whining. This is where she’s best, in the secret unseen places.
Sneak counts her way across the backs of the lanes; when she reaches theirs, she finds a perch and settles in to watch. There are ten pins upright below her, and Mushroom’s gleaming brown ball crashes into them and sends them flying. She wants to snatch one, put it away in her gem, but the clockwork movements of the machine are pleasing too. Instead she watches closely as it lowers, chivvies the ball and the pins away into their own particular places, readies the four that are left. Carefully she lowers herself closer, hooking her feet to hang upside down.
Mushroom’s ball slides in again and tumbles three of the four. Sneak has learned enough about this game to know that the last pin should go down too—Fireball whoops every time someone knocks them all over, and she wants to hear that sound again, loud and unworried. She reaches down, swats the last pin over, wiggles her fingers in a daring little wave.
She doesn’t hear Fireball’s whoop. As the machine whirs into motion, she lowers herself further to peek out, hair brushing the shining wood below; at the other end of the lane, Mushroom and Fireball are staring at her. Mushroom looks about to laugh; Fireball’s arms are flickering to Comet, and Comet’s face flickers back, and they both look suddenly worried. Then Fireball beckons with a small tilt of her head, like she’s trying to be subtle, and mouths That’s cheating, I don’t think you should be in there!
Sneak shrinks back up into the works, then pokes her head out again to mouth back I like it in here. Dark. Mushroom does laugh then, covering her eyes with one hand.
Suddenly amid the buzz of unremarkable human motion surrounding them, something pink pops out, headed her way. Sneak’s been noticed, and that’s never good; she scrambles back up into the machine, presses herself into the darkest nook, strains her ears for voices. She let her guard down, let herself come out here, to this place, in the open, let herself be caught Sneaking! All at once she regrets every curiosity that led her here. She should have stayed in the inbetweens of Homeworld, where she belongs.
Footsteps separate from the other noises, coming closer; two hands appear on the wood below, then a face, pink hair, craning awkwardly to look up into the shadows. “Hey,” the human says, loud enough to carry but not a shout, not a trouble sound. “The others told me this is kind of your thing, and that’s cool. But I need you to come out now, okay? You don’t have to keep playing if you don’t want to, we can all go to a nice corner booth and sit for a while.”
Sneak is perfectly still; the human’s eyes edge around her, trying to focus, not quite finding her. But there’s nowhere to go—she can only wait to be spotted, or make herself known.
“Do you eat human food? Terry at the snack bar makes a mean root beer float,” the human says. “Uh, wait, not mean. That’s slang, you might not get that. A...delicious root beer float.” She still hasn’t distinguished Sneak from the rest of the darkness, but she twists to hold up a hand. “You’re not in trouble,” she says; she seems to means it.
Sneak closes her eyes. Opens them again. Slips down past the machine, and takes the offered hand.
The human smiles wide. “There we go. Come on, cutie.”
“Sneak.”
“Right. Sneak.”
—Comet—
A root beer float is fizzy, as it turns out.
Fireball’s on her left, flickering commentary—Bubbles! and bubbles in my nose! and so sweet!—and Sneak is across from her, likely curled into the corner of the booth, sipping her own fizzy drink almost too quietly for Comet to hear. One of Sneak’s legs is stretched out under the table though, her foot resting lightly against Comet’s; Comet takes this as a sign of trust, and thinks maybe this outing was a success.
Next to Sneak, Mushroom’s spoon tinks against the sides of the glass. “This is great,” she says. “They should have these at Spacetries.”
“We’ve seen them at Funland!” Fireball offers. “Just didn’t know what they were.”
“Okay ladies,” comes the voice of their helpful human, bringing with her a host of interesting smells. “Pizza, curly fries, and soft pretzels. Best of the snack bar.”
Comet pulls their roll of currency out of her gem. “How many of these do you need?”
“Psh,” the human tells her, and lightly pushes her hand away. “Nothing, it’s my treat.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Mushroom says as their human sets the food down and scrapes a chair across the carpet to sit. “We did cause a stir and all.”
“It’s okay, I get it. You’re not all used to human stuff.”
“A mean root beer float,” Sneak says, in the human’s voice.
“Huh,” the real human replies. “Well, you’re welcome. But how’d you get out here from Beach City, anyway? If that’s where you came fro—uh, Sneak, hon, if you hold the pizza over your head like that the cheese is gonna slide off. You don’t want it falling on your face, it’s hot.”
“The best of the snack bar,” Sneak replies; Mushroom laughs through a mouthful of food.
“A friend gave us a ride,” Fireball explains; her arm flickers the food in front of you, give me a piece?
Comet reaches out and finds something spongy and warm, twisted into loops and dotted with little bumps that flake off as she touches them. It smells familiar, like something else they’ve seen at Funland, and she tears off a piece to hold up for Fireball.
“She’ll be here to pick us up after her book club,” Comet finishes. “What is a book club, by the way? Is it a good date activity?”
The human hums. “It could be, but it’s usually in a group. Everybody reads the same book, and then they get together to talk about it.”
“So it’s not about weaponry...interesting.”
“Weaponry?”
“There you are!” calls another voice—the Renegade, from somewhere near the door. “Did you have a good ti—oh!” she stops short, close to them now; when she speaks again there’s something strange in her voice. “Sheena! I didn’t know you worked here.”
“Had to pick up a second job,” their human says, and her voice is a warm, slow smile. “I was hoping their ride would be you.”
“You didn’t go to any trouble, did you?” the Renegade replies, and Comet can hear her blush.
“I’m sure they’ll tell you all about it. Here, take a load off, I need to set up a birthday party anyway.”
“Oh, you don’t have to—”
“Just call me if you wanna catch up, hey?” their human says, low. “My number’s the same.”
Then she walks away; a moment later the Renegade sighs.
“Stars.”
“What was that all about?” Mushroom asks, sliding one of the trays down the table.
“Ah, she and I—oh, no thanks—we dated, for a while. Years ago, now.”
Fireball leans in, delighted. “You dated a human? What happened?”
“It was lovely, really. But I wasn’t ready for anything serious, and then things got busy, and I might have...forgotten to return her calls, a few times.”
“My number’s the same,” Sneak says in the human’s voice; Fireball barks out a laugh.
“All right, why don’t we pack this food up and take it back with us? You can tell me all about your day on the way home,” the Renegade suggests, forcefully light and a little shrill; Comet bites back a smile.
This was definitely a good idea.