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The turbulence on the flight was getting worse as the plane got closer to the destination. It was intimidating how strong Lucy could make rainstorms, especially after their experiments with the Astralathe. She didn’t have complete control over the weather, but she could give a helping hand to clouds passing by to induce rainfall, or even make it rain harder, even for a brief period of time over a designated area. Of course, no one in the research group assumed she could create such powerful torrents as to cause as much chaos as she had, nor even give trouble to military grade aircraft.
Bob jiggled his leg, it was the only part of his body not strapped down to the side of the airplane. The back of the aircraft was relatively empty except for himself, his five friends, and an intimidating officer, giving them further recap of their adversary and any updates on the ground from any military left. She was their friend, but it was plain to see to the rest of the world, at least those that held the weapons, the most territory, and most influence, she was a threat that needed to be squashed. As if she wasn’t the very hurt, and very scared human she really was. It took them hours to get to their destination, but given Bob’s anxiety over the situation, it felt like minutes, but also eons, easier to measure time by the barking of updates than anything else. Even his own train of thoughts were not reliant, not trustworthy in this wobbling metal cage they were in on their way to help their friend.
Bob looked around. Everyone was checked out, mostly. Tending to their own personal matters. Otto had a look of shame on his face, it was his invention after all that led to where we were. But it was the group's agreement to use it, along with circumstances beyond anyone’s control that lead us to this point. Knowing Otto, and how hard headed he was, he wouldn’t listen to anything anyone had to say on the subject. The way Otto’s eyes darted around and how he had his hand on his chin and mouth, looked like he was planning something. He was probably still trying to consider every single option and situation that might happen and how to counter it when they would face Lucy. A fool’s errand. He had already run as many calculations as possible before even setting foot in the aircraft, but knowing him, it was his best way of avoiding any possible casualties.
Bob scanned over to Compton, his face was pained with worry. The guy was already an anxious ball of energy, but given the circumstances, Bob didn’t blame him. Cassie feverishly reviewed something she had written in a journal of hers, shaking her head and erasing her words, tapping her pencil to her forehead as she edited furiously. Ford. He was determined, eyes focused on the ground. He wasn’t frowning, but was definitely lost in thought of what lay ahead at any moment. He looked twitchy, ready to do something productive, anything to get rid of that pent up energy he no doubt felt. Lucy and Ford had loved each other so much, it was palpable. Even when Bob arrived it was nauseatingly sweet. He could only imagine how awful it would be if he was in the same position as Ford, having to go to battle against someone he loved so much. Perhaps their love could prevail even after this battle, only time could tell.
Bob looked to his left, and while he could only see half of the man’s face, he could tell from their link that he was resigned to what had to be done to get their friend back. His thoughts were usually fun and lighthearted, but all he could hear was a lament of sorts. It was hard to hear between the rattling of the aircraft, Bob’s own anxious thoughts, and any words from the military professionals that would come in every so often to give updates regarding the drop zone that they were inbound for. Everyone felt the same thing, in the end, failure.
Bob closed his eyes and sighed, he wasn’t sure what was more restrictive, the straps the chair fused into the wall of the airplane had come with, or the heavy winter clothes and goggles he was wearing. Of all the things he expected their experiments to lead them, going into a battle against one of his closest friends was not on the list at all. He wanted a quiet life, with joy and fun and intrigue after leaving the greenhouse. He was almost sure he had it, but the ties that bind had severed in some places but also constricted them all so tightly in every other location. Bob could only imagine to understand the pain that Lucy must have been in to see that her home was in strife once more, a similar conflict that took her husband from her, her peace of mind and normalcy, gone. Well, as much normalcy as a psychic trying to blend into normal society can get in Grulovia. It wasn’t awful, from what Lucy had said, but she and Marona definitely had to be on their toes more often than not.
It wasn’t fair. He had spent countless hours learning to knit from Lucy, talking about their pasts, cracking jokes, hell, Bob even asked Lucy for guidance on asking Helmut to marry him not even a year and a half ago. Life comes at you fast, but this was something he was racking his mind for a solution to, something, anything other than freezing one of his best friends alive. His mind went a mile a minute, but he couldn’t find anything better than the option Otto had created. It was their best shot at buying themselves time to help rehabilitate Lucy, to work out the trouble in her mind. It was sadly the best option any of them had, Otto had run the calculations, there was a 98.37 percent chance of success between the hyperhyglaciator he had, and everyone’s combined abilities. If that didn’t work, they had further neutralization gear, including super sneezing powder, a few extra jars, and other emergency supplies, which only gave them dwindling odds. In the end, the backup plans only added a fraction of a fraction of a percentage to even remotely get Lucy to be mollified. It was more or less a suicide mission should it get to that point, but they were the first and only line of defense to make sure Lucy didn’t get blown to smitherines, or have countless people die trying.
Above the lights turned red. “Alright, Psychonauts! That’s your cue!” The Major barked, pointing to the parachutes that were stashed near the cockpit door. They had little training, due to the urgency of the matter, and Bob’s stomach lurched as he unbuckled the restraints, almost toppling over as the plane bumped on an air current.
Need to make sure you fall out of the airplane, Bobby. Helmut teased telepathically, smiling, but his eyes betrayed him, the worry seeping out of them.
Yeah, and not over myself Bob added, trying to make some sort of joke, but fell flat on his face in his attempt. Jokes were easier when it wasn’t a life or death situation. It was easier to talk through their minds, Helmut and him both would rather not have a military professional yell at them for making it hard to give directions for the low opening jump they had to take. It still didn’t feel real, the two of them were some of the last to grab their parachutes. Bob felt a hand on his shoulder, as Ford jumped out of the plane, Otto soon after. Bob got vertigo seeing how high up the jump was. His friends shrunk to the size of ants in the perspective, before their chutes deployed.
When this is done, let’s get pancakes at The Lumberstack, same as always, Bobby. Helmut squeezed Bob’s shoulder gently. This will work out fine, and we’ll laugh about it in a month, you’ll see. I promise.
It was true, the two of them had been through so much already. Sure, no deadly HALO jumps into uncertainty, but they had faced more than enough check-ins, and post-astralathe recovery sessions for a lifetime. The two had gone toe to toe with monsters of all sorts in their minds together, memories of the past, censors, doubts, regrets, manifestations of self-deprecation and pain. They had triumphed over it all, and had created something together, something intangible but stronger than diamonds.
Bob closed his eyes and squeezed his hand. He squeezed his eyes tightly, and opened them back up, stuck in his regular booth at The Lumberstack Diner. In front of him was his usual order, black coffee, three pancakes, extra butter, light syrup, and loaded with strawberries. He looked up, across from him, and found the booth empty, except for a tall glass of orange juice, pancakes smothered in syrup. He wasn’t sure who he’d find but he wished it was Helmut. It had been months since the battle, and Helmut never did make good on that promise, he went on tour soon after they all returned back from the battle. Helmut was probably at the Gulch, waiting for him, the week was over, and Helmut promised he’d be back for their anniversary this year.
He looked out at the slowly setting sun, the sky turning a shade of red and orange, purple pieces of cotton candy flew lazily in the sky. Bob took another bite of his pancakes and felt empty, no matter what he ate, the pit in his stomach was never filled. The ache in his back, his shoulders, his chest still never subsided. He lost something in that battle, or perhaps this was just long term effects of the astralathe.
Bob shook his head and looked at the empty seat and thought back to a previous time that Helmut had taken Bob there, they had stayed up all night working on a song together. They had been dating a few months at the time, and it was too early to meaningfully make something in the kitchen, with it still being dark out, so they drove to the diner. Leftover syrup got stuck in Bob’s beard and it took the two of them to wash it out, as it got stuck on Helmut’s face when they kissed after their meal. It was silly but it was their life. Bob wouldn’t have made even a Faustian bargain for anything else in exchange for it.
Bob set his fork and knife down, mostly done with his food and pulled out his billfold. They had proper funding nowadays, and decent paychecks from private contractors to ensure further research, and working with other psychics to confirm the balance was kept, to make good on the promise that another Maligula never happened again. He pulled out enough cash to cover the meal and enough to leave a generous tip. Bob wiped his eyes and walked out of the diner.
The drive back to the gulch wasn’t too long, but his mind kept wandering. It had been a long week, and Ford and Otto were really into the groove of the business they all had made, but Cassie had secluded herself to the Gulch. Bob and her crossed paths briefly, but not a word was said. He wasn’t sure if he’d start crying, and Cassie had a dejected look every single time she was around him, or whenever Otto visited and Bob got a glimpse of the two briefly greeting each other. Bob and Compton sometimes chatted, but whenever he was almost sure the other would bring up Cassie, he changed the subject to some research he was working on, or training new recruits. Those chats never lasted long as of late. Ford was never the same since the battle, however. Killing his long time girlfriend, and one of the people he dearly loved took a toll on the guy, and Bob didn’t blame him. The two of them were wrecked in different places. Ever since Helmut started going back on tour again, and forbade Bob from coming along with him, but it was hard to chat with Ford about it. It wasn’t the same finality as death, but it still hurt to be constantly away from the man he loved. At least with Ford, he helped around the building, doing odd jobs like sorting the mail and helping with hair maintenance. However, there was something about the guy that broke in a place that Bob could almost swear was unnatural. Sure, it was psychically induced due to the battle, but still, something augmented about it that Lucy, nor him, could do alone. Bob brought it up with Otto, but the two never did come to a final agreement, merely hypotheses.
Truman was coming into his own as a psychic, and Bob was proud. He had to force his nephew not to join them to Grulovia and Bob was glad. He could only imagine how awful it would have been to lose almost all of his family in the battle. Truman was a good kid, no, young man. He had mastered his psychic abilities, and was able to triumph over his uncertainty. He sat upon a throne of his hard work, and Bob even dared to say that while Truman had powers, he was nothing like Bob, and that was for the best. After Truman had graduated college, he was able to finally devote his time to assisting the Psychonauts on their board, with the rest of the five still remaining. Cassie was briefly on the board, but left one day and never returned, and so Truman took her spot. It was the most logical option, even if it did look like a nepotism pick. He had the most knowledge of the original psychic seven, and a good head on his shoulders to direct the future of the organization.
Bob pulled into his parking space, a short walk behind his greenhouse he still visited on the weekends. They had places to stay in their new headquarters, but it was the gulch where Bob felt at home, even after all these years. He walked into his greenhouse and set his wallet and keys on the counter, taking a deep breath. “Honey, I’m home.” No one replied, Helmut must be at his usual place in the gulch, the theater. Yes, that must be it. Bob opened the cabinet and pulled out the bottle of wine, and grabbed the guitar on his couch. He was no doubt late for his date.
Bob took a quick look in the mirror he kept by the door, and fixed his tie, looked down, and couldn’t find anything wrong with his khakis. He stood there, knowing he was missing something, and realized the error. Bob quickly turned around, set the bottle and guitar on the table and went to rifle through the closet. He would be a fool to not wear the sweater Helmut made him, his husband would surely lovingly give him a little static if he didn’t, it was their anniversary, after all.
He put on the well loved dark blue sweater over his green button-down shirt, and ran down the road, guitar and bottle in hand, eager to see his Husband. The past week was awful, and he couldn’t wait to see what Helmut had gotten while he was on tour. Bob could only imagine what sights Helmut could see, and if there were hopefully more attendees this time. He passed the Heptadome and turned the corner, the van was there. Well, that, and the memorial.
Bob slowed down and walked down the slope. “So, I know I’m late, sorry.” He said, setting down the bottle and his guitar case. “But, I couldn’t help myself, I had to get something sweet. This week was awful, so much paperwork.” Bob chuckled, “you’d probably end up hating this job. I can see why you went on tour.” His eyes started to water again, but Bob wiped them away, not letting the sting sour his date. “How is it, by the way? Touring the cosmos?”
The wind rustled the trees, birdsong heard in the distance, but no human response. Bob sat down in the same place as before, when he attended Helmut’s first concert, opened the case, and pulled out his instrument. His guitar he took with him when he first left his home. He got help from Helmut to take care of it again, replace some old strings, and make sure it was back in playing condition. “So, while you’ve been out performing for the stars, I’ve been working on a little something myself.” He played a chord, and tuned his guitar accordingly, making sure that everything was perfect. “I thought I’d play it for you, it’s our anniversary, you know. It’s not super flashy. But just as a reminder, that you haven’t left my heart.”
Bob cleared his throat and looked at the main centerpiece, the picture of Helmut, one of many Bob had taken on a date with him. He had no idea that this is where a copy of it would be, memorializing his husband, who was, no, who is taking a long tour of the universe, just like he wanted to, in the end. Bob uncorked the bottle and got a few mouthfuls of wine down, just enough to clear his throat. The aftertaste was disgusting, but it was the only thing he was thirsty for as of late. He started strumming the chords he had written down and memorized, and started to sing.
Hear oh listeners, a song of which I mourn, that of a handsome shrike, and his irritable, loving thorn.
He was born of moonlight, birthed in a raging storm, but the thorn had hoped for sunlight, that glittery, loving form.
He reached for the yellow, and on him perched a shrike, a lonesome bird, who had taken a liking to the spike.
With time, the shrike nuzzled close, the thorns bloomed in rose, the plant and the songbird, each other had chose.
One day the bird took wing, on a treacherous gale, and while the thorn remained, the bird’s return did fail.
The thorn still stands to this day, awaiting for his lover, who has flown so far away.
“It’s not my best work, I know.” Bob sighed, “but if you ever come back from that cosmic tour of yours, maybe we could do some edits. Or maybe I could end up joining you on that tour someday, provided you still don’t mind me tagging along. Every good rockstar needs a groupie, no?” Silence answered, and Bob took another swig of wine, putting his guitar back into the case, latching it up. “Y’know, I don’t know if magic exists, but you were always better at this. Performing, opening the gates of your heart and mind, captivating listeners and projecting your visions out, even with just your words, let alone figments.” He shook his head and chuckled. “I swear it was wizardry, how you had that mastered. You were always the height of your powers when you had a willing and engaged audience.”
Bob stood up and walked over to the small funerary shrine that was made what felt like eons ago. The flowers had wilted, and shriveled up. He ought to replace them soon. “We used to have such a good time, you and I. Your highness. My Psi-King.” He said, reaching out and picking up a picture of his husband, holding it to his face. “I wish we had more time, but what else was left but the end?” Bob brought the picture closer, closing the gap between his lips and the picture.
“Bob?” A familiar voice broke the silence, just as Bob was about to kiss the glass. He turned and saw Otto standing there, atop the slope, looking at Bob.
“I…” Bob slowly set the picture back onto the shrine and turned around, feeling his face ignite. “What are you doing here?” He furrowed his brow, the words coming out accusatory. Bob and Otto hadn’t spoken much since the battle.
“It’s Friday. I usually come here to clear my head after a long week. Just to make sure the heptadome doesn’t waste away. I also wanted to make sure Cassie was doing okay, but she’s not answering the door, like usual.” Otto sighed and shook his head. “So I went to check on the heptadome. And here I am.” He said, gesturing to himself.
“So…” Bob trailed off, unsure as to how to explain to Otto the intricate ritual that was going on without wanting to astrally project outside of himself due to shame. “I’m kind of in the middle of something.” He anxiously twisted his wedding ring, feeling something bubbling beneath his shame.
Otto nodded slowly, “I know, but…Bob…if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here. I-”
“I don’t need to talk with you, genius.” Bob snarled. “What, with your great idea to freeze our friend alive, and no other option? Hello? Nobel Committee?” Bob said, miming his hand as a phone. “We were up against odds that you were able to calculate, and your machine didn’t even work against her. Lucy…” He could feel something stir in his mind, like a frantic child yelling from a distance to stop. “You let her down. You let us all down, you’re the smartest among us, and you couldn’t even guarantee safety. If you could have been just a bit better, we wouldn’t be in this mess. I wouldn’t be-” Bob’s voice cracked, and a sob let out. “Forget it. You’re smart enough to get the rest.” He dismissively waved at his co-worker and walked over to the alcohol and guitar.
He could feel Otto’s eyes on him, the man hadn’t moved, firmly planted to the spot, but he seemed to have wilted a bit since the conversation began. “I don’t buy it.” Otto replied, not raising his voice, eerily calm.
Bob picked up the bottle of wine and guitar case. “Figures, guess that precious intellect of yours went to waste. Can’t even fix the present with a gadget of yours, huh?” Bob looked up at Otto, despite his bleary eyes. He was just standing there, leaning against a tree. “Well? No witty comeback other than ‘I don’t buy it?’” Bob said, mimicking Otto’s tone. He walked up the slope and past the taller man.
“Bob…” Otto said, looking down at the opened bottle and back up at Bob. “I…I am working to fix this, but it’s not easy. It takes time, even with the plans I have to find Helmut, we’d need a proper hydrokinetic. Not just some skills augmented from a machine. If you’d just listen for two seconds I-”
“Well, find a better way then. That’s your job, isn’t it? Wasn’t that why Ford even remotely hired you to work with him in the first place? I mean, besides my perfect nephew, you’re the one running the show nowadays. Bet that helps your huge fragile ego, huh? Everyone relies on you, but when it comes down to it, you can’t back up your words with material results. Bet it burns that your only worth to the group is dwindling. They’ll all find out you’re a fraud eventually.” Bob said, back to Otto. He could feel the look of disapproval Otto was no doubt giving him, burning into the back of his head. Sure he had the wine bottle, but he knew his limits. He took a glance back at Otto, who stood there, the certainty Bob could have sworn was in his stance was gone, he was just a guy. Hurt, no judgment, but alone, just like the rest of them.
“If you could get your head out of your ass and the bottle for one second. My ‘job’ is being your friend first.” Otto replied, he took a deep breath and wiped his eyes. “It hurts seeing you this way. We used to have such a good time before. It hurts seeing everyone this way since we tried to help Lucy. But Bob, I can see you don’t want my help, but just…just be safe, okay? I’ll fix this someday, just you wait. I want you alive to see it.” Otto’s eyes were still damp, but beneath the waterworks was a fiery determination, and that winning smile he had on when cutting the ribbon to their new headquarters. What a buffoon.
“It’s too late for that, brainiac. Just accept it. Let me put it in smaller words for you to understand. You let us down. You let Helmut drown. We’re either dead, or better off dead now. You just lucked out that you’re taking this in stride. So go away. Go back to your perfect life and lead the future of psychic kind into a golden age for all I care. It’s better off without a mess-up like myself. I don’t need you.” Bob replied, generating a telekinetic hand to give Otto the middle finger before turning away, and walking back to his home. While the fury burned inside, he could feel himself grow colder, and took another drink from the bottle.
Shattered cobblestone on the ground picked back up, slathered in mortar, and put onto the pile. The wall was starting to go back up, piece by piece, this time with a new paint job. It wasn’t how he viewed his life in a long time, but it was easier than what Otto was doing. But Otto didn’t lose a husband. Otto didn’t lose his best friend. Ford was still alive, sure a bit tattered, but still alive and Otto chatted with him with ease. Compton was still alive and working at the motherlobe, Otto and him were still able to talk to each other. Otto was lucky enough to be able to chat with Cassie and had some mild success with her. Much better than Bob could even attempt. What did he know? Otto hadn’t gone through what Bob did.
Bob sighed. He regretted how he acted towards Otto, but this was easier, it was easier to not feel and push people away if they wanted to help. He couldn’t delude himself with hope anymore. Leave that to people who have something left to lose still. Bob took another long swig as he walked up the path and opened the door to his home. He tossed the guitar onto the couch and let out a sob he was holding in since he started walking away from Otto. If only Helmut could see his husband now, a pathetic archetype of the real deal. That Bobby of his was long dead by now, just like his husband. Part of Bob wondered if they held hands once more. If it’d feel just like how it was the first time, walking in the forest around the research facility they had made, carefree, blushing like school kids. Or would Helmut pull away in disgust at what his lover had become? A lonely drunken mess.
This was not a loving loneliness, of course. Any romanticized aspect of loneliness was gone from Bob. This was that convenience store at 1am, with its mercurial liminal space. However, he was simply the bored cashier, judging any and all patrons who walk through the automatic doors, who were, no doubt, living a much more fulfilling life than he was. Stuck in the same dead end job, any joy had rotted away, ages ago. He had known the loving form of that loneliness. To be across the counter, the laughing couple that comes in, able to get a bag of chips, candy, soda, and juice, able to sit outside and talk about nothing meaningful, like the world didn’t exist, just the two of them, sharing secrets, exchanging laughter and jokes. But it was not his to hold anymore, that love had faded and been blown away by the wind, and Helmut was gone. Dead.
Any spirit of Helmut, if it existed, was probably out traveling the cosmos. After all, why would Helmut want to stay and haunt his depressed, awful husband he chose to marry? Memories of him came back to Bob’s mind every so often, manifesting like the fear of a garden hose left on, nagging at him while he was unable to turn it off, busy at that awful corner store. He had wasted those fleeting moments. Those sunsets with smiles and kisses, road trips around nowhere locations, parks, tourist traps, beaches, and even the occasional city. But the pain life had given Bob lately was just an awful amount of mulch with no plants to tend to, no seeds, and any possible fertile ground was all covered in salt. The two lived in constant symbiosis, like a planet and a star, but Bob was currently sucked into a blackhole.
Bob took another deep gulp of wine. The taste in his mouth was awful, but it was better than the taste that had kept coming back. The flavor that came from kissing Helmut deeply, the way their tongues used to pass by each other, gliding and dancing out some lively tango, now upon recall, seemed more like a grim fandango. No matter how much he drank, he kept remembering the sweet mornings the two shared, the times Helmut helped him garden, and times Bob helped Helmut with lyrics and poetry. The way the two picked up knitting and sewing and made horrible sweaters and scarves and hats and gloves for themselves and their friends. Mementos of the love they shared. While most of those clothing items, like the memories Bob had were given away or put deep into closets, the taste remained though, it sometimes took a few minutes, other times a few hours, but it always came back. Bob drained the rest of the bottle and sunk to the floor, the room starting to spin. He was tied up by those vines of his again, bound by duties and relationships he was actively working on destroying, whether he wanted to or not.
“Well, are you satisfied now?” He mumbled, fully laying down, back on the floor. Silence answered. The plants usually didn’t try and bother Bob when he was in these moods. He was dead, or at least he felt that way. The way his body ached constantly, the fact his thirst for alcohol did not cease, and his desire to eat had left him the moment he saw Helmut take his plunge. He could still remember in crystal clarity the adrenaline rush, how the world slowed, and all he could do was watch as Helmut broke into that frozen lake. Cassie restraining Bob as tears blinded him, stung his eyes in that cold Grulovian blizzard. Body straining against Cassie as Bob tried to run after Helmut, despite Bob’s awful ability to swim. Another series of sobs rocked his body. Maybe if he was lucky, he’d be able to forget this some day, be able to forget all of it. But he knew Helmut would disapprove if he did, if he and Helmut were to ever meet up once more. If the universe was kind. A foolish fantasy.
He’d give anything to undo this pain he felt. Undo the looks he would get every so often by new recruits who heard about Helmut’s passing, undo his childhood, and leave that tomb of a home he grew up in permanently when he was younger, but he was stuck with his shitty little life and his shitty little choices. He couldn’t do any of that, but he was his mother’s child, and turned to the least logical answer, but the most potent solution, alcohol. Even if Helmut came back, he was almost certain that the man wouldn’t even look at him twice, let alone choose him all over again. “I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to save you.” He closed his eyes and felt tears roll off the sides of his face.
He took a deep breath, and wiped his eyes again. He hadn’t stood in front of Otto’s lab in over a decade. Bob slowly phased out talking with Otto after their chat all those years ago. Dropping contact completely when Bob got fired. Sure, Otto still made his efforts to go out to the gulch every week or so, tending to the grounds, making sure things weren’t entirely in disarray. The two, on occasion, shared awkward greetings, and went on their ways if they crossed paths. Otto didn’t try again to extend a helping hand, but he at least made sure that the gulch didn’t go to disarray.
Bob clenched his fists and released the tension, taking a deep breath in through his nose. He could do this, sure it had been a while since Raz’s adventure into his mind, but between that, the successful recovery of Helmut’s body, therapy sessions, and a proper wardrobe update, Bob felt like his old self. Mostly. Sure bottles of loneliness let him sail countless wine dark seas on his own odyssey, but he never expected to be docked once more, to see people he thought were long out of his life. More specifically, he never expected to see Helmut again.
Since he saw Helmut in that borrowed body, Bob’s world flipped. The pain wasn’t gone, his body still hurt, but the thirst lessened until Bob quashed it for good on his own. The two chatted that night about the past few decades like no time had passed, even after Lucy was able to calm down, thanks to Raz and the other now junior Psychonaut agents’ efforts. It felt unreal, sure Helmut had to be removed from the loaner and put into a hamster ball for a time, but still. Even with the change of appearance, his husband was alive!
Beyond that, with Bob reuniting with everyone, Truman offered a reinstatement of his position, in a way. More so as a resource and mentor to interns and agents as needed. No field work, but still helping the organization. The board Bob knew was fully replaced with a newer generation, and he had no arguments of wanting to rejoin the board.
Thankfully, due to Cassie’s amazing budget work and bookkeeping, she was able to find more than enough money to pay for a recovery mission for Helmut. The board expediently agreed. She managed to not only fund the extraction mission, but also cover some other expenses, to Hollis’s glee. When Hollis came back from vacation, stress wracking her body as she recalled the mountain of work she no doubt had let accumulate in her absence, only to levitate when Cassie threw some numbers her way and the paperwork all sorted. Of course, the numbers were bolstered with the money they could make selling the excess honey that Cassie and Compton could generate in the gulch. Soon after, they were able to recover Helmut’s body, but Bob still felt awkward being around his friends he had pushed away and gotten into arguments with, but they were still happy to see him despite his awful behavior in the past. Bob was hesitant to talk with Otto especially, but it was as if nothing happened between the two, as if Bob didn’t blame Otto for his husband becoming a popsicle, and further ignored opportunities for help from the man.
When they all returned from the trip, Helmut and Bob were even more inseparable, to everyone’s pleasure. Sure, Helmut had gotten a feel for the Motherlobe, but being able to walk around it in a body, to properly sense everything in his own body, was a treat. He may not be the same as before, as his body had aged somewhat in the ice. Not only did he age in the ice, but he was recovering from frostbite, so the nerves weren’t as sensitive as they were before the freeze. It wasn’t the worst thing, though. After all, Helmut was able to tell when his Bobby was holding his hand. Things were lovely between him and Helmut, and he was able to catch up with his old friends, recounting the years that had gone by. But, with everything going so well, Bob still felt nagging in his stomach when he saw Otto running between his lab and Sasha Nein’s office every so often. He had unfinished business.
Bob proceeded to walk towards the lab, giving the building exterior one last look before going through the automatic doors. The lobby had the same disco themed interior, with a modern looking metal sculpture hanging over a red carpet. Bob stood and let the thinkerprint scanner confirm his identity and the fake stone wall pulled away, to reveal a room with red lights. Bob always thought this part of the lab was a bit over the top, but it was a big change from how the lab looked at the gulch. Bob was proud of Otto, the changes he had made in his own life and for The Psychonauts were good ones. To be honest, he was jealous of the guy in some respects. Bob entered the main part of the lab, and found Otto hard at work, tending to some new invention no doubt.
Bob walked over and stood next to a chair, “hey, mind if I sit here?” No answer. “Okay…” He sighed, sitting down. “Do you mind if we have a chat?” Bob asked, watching as Otto further hyperfocused on the machine, tending to its needs. He always got like this during a project. Otto still could hear, no doubt, and if it was urgent to the point of where Otto needed absolute silence, he would have said something. At least, he had in the past. “Listen, I…I’m sorry. I know that I said I was happy to see everyone the night we got Lucy back. I did and still do feel that way, but I also felt awful. I pushed everyone away, either by getting mad and biting at them verbally, like you, or I got myself fired and went back to live in the gulch and never followed-up with anyone.”
Bob swallowed hard, vision going blurry, eyes getting damp, lump forming at the back of his throat. He took a deep breath and continued, “Look, what I’m trying to say is that I messed up, big time. I’m a very messed up person, as you saw when you first met me, then saw me process my feelings with Helmut and how much of a mess I was when I acted like a kid about if he liked me or not.” Bob let a brief chuckle out and shook his head. “And how I then processed my feelings and slid down into a pit of despair when I thought he died and ended up getting irrationally mad at you. I’m not proud of how I acted, I was a real selfish jerk who felt like a lot of my life was meaningless. I was wrong. I took it out on myself and those I cared about, which, surprise, includes you.” Bob’s eyes drifted to look at other things in Otto’s lab. He was rarely ever there, but there was a lived-in feel to it that Bob felt from Otto’s old lab back in the gulch. Sure, the old one was mostly wood and metal carved out of a rather large rock, but it felt like home. And, oddly enough, so did the new one, just with a larger setup.
“So yeah, I’m back in therapy now. Well, in therapy officially? Regardless, I still want to say I’m sorry. I think you’re the one I treated the worst with how I mourned Helmut. With everyone else I just numbed myself out, and drifted away from, but with you, it was just bad. I let my hurt out on you. I know we’ve had this banter for years, but when I saw you I just felt angry at myself, knowing that Helmut was gone. I couldn’t have saved him. Nothing could fix it, no matter how hard we tried. We had gotten married, and not just a few years later I was singing him a stupid song at his memorial we had created for him.” Bob sighed, the day clear in his mind. “Not how I expected marriage to go. I think I wanted an easy explanation of how unfair and chaotic the universe can be.” Bob sighed and stood up, his conversation partner hadn’t looked up since Bob came in. He nervously rotated his wedding ring back and forth with his index finger and thumb. “Well, this was a good chat. I’ll let you get back to what you were doing. Sorry to bother you. I’ll get out of your life now.” He started to walk away, his brown dress shoes hitting the floor, the only noise besides the occasional chime of a machine, or fluid running through a tube.
“Hold up, you’re not leaving that easily, Bob.” Otto said, looking up from his work. “Please, take a seat. Again, I mean.”
“By this rate, I’ll have stolen all your chairs.” Bob responded, walking over and sitting down at the chair he was just in.
Otto snorted and shook his head. He readjusted his glasses on his face. “Look, I forgave you a while after you said those words all those years ago. Not to your face obviously, but I forgave you. I saw the brief moment of hesitation after you had said what you said, the look of embarrassment as you proceeded to double down. How you turned around to hide the pain on your face, and how you fled back to that greenhouse of yours. My heart ached for you, Bob. I mean, I don’t call you cactus for no reason, you’re quite prickly. I hold no ill will towards you for that, I haven’t for ages. Sure it hurt in that moment and a while after, but everyone gets so close with someone they end up hurting them. Hedgehog dilemma. You were hurting, and didn’t want help, but I did what I could to make sure you were safe. I would have offered more, but you declined.”
“Heh. Sorry about that.” Bob said, looking down as he straightened his tie, looking up briefly to see Otto resting his face on his hand, wrench still held tightly.
“Again, no need for apologies. We tend to mix like oil and water some days. But hey, can’t synthesize anything if there’s no contrasting aspects to nature. However, the actions taken afterwards speak a lot louder than any words.” Otto replied, looking back down at the machine, he moved the wrench to tighten a bolt.
Bob sighed, “And I only got a lot worse. Back to where I started, stuck in the cycle.” He rolled his eyes. The two already had several talks about Hegel and the whole thesis, antithesis, synthesis stuff. What a bore that old dead guy was, but the weed induced commentary on the guy’s works, among others, were conversations Bob still held dear to him. That and just conversation in general with Otto was like the first time driving a stick shift. Sure, there were stops and starts to it, but when it got into the proper gear, it didn’t stop until it ran out of gas.
“Maybe, but I was more so thinking about how you’re navigating that heart of yours back to where you feel it should be. Especially since you’re doing some therapy, with someone licensed now.” Otto looked up from the device he was working on. “I mean, not that you didn’t get any wisdom from the six of us, but still. This is a process, you know. Using our findings and other information to make a more informed process to help you. But, this pain of yours, of any of ours, is as much intellectual as it is physical. It’s a rough wall to climb.”
“For me to slide down again. Whatever strength I’ve gotten is probably fragile. It just hasn’t been tested yet.” Bob rested his chin on one of his left hand while the right one took off his glasses, and Bob squinted, looking for any smudge marks. “I know I’m in therapy and all, as is everyone else who’s even tangentially tied into the Psychonauts. But what if I start doing that again, acting like a major asshole to you and other people if Helmut and I split up? I mean, Helmut and I are doing well, but it feels so certain that I’ll act that way. I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop. I talked with the therapist and they say to focus on the now, but it’s such a big worry I have. It’s happened twice, it’ll probably happen again. First with my mom dying, then with Helmut when I thought he died. It’s a cycle with myself and it just doesn’t seem to have an end. Only just long pauses.”
“Well, maybe.” Otto shrugged. “I sadly don’t know the future. If I did, I’d’ve made sure that no one got lost in the battle. I would have made sure you didn’t have your slump, that Cassie didn’t isolate, to avoid Compton’s anxiety about disappointing any of us as people left, to stop Ford from using the astralathe as he did. I would have also made sure my brains were labeled, it would have saved you a lot of trouble. I wish I could have avoided choices we made that come with large regrets.” He sighed, and took off his own glasses. “Sorry, oil smudges on my face all too easily with some of these machines.” He said, grabbing a tissue.
“Yeah, it’s just so much chaos to life and the universe, you know?” Bob smiled sheepishly, not meaning to get Otto waxing poetic about times gone by. “I mean, the flow of time is just awful sometimes.”
“Ha ha.” Otto responded, sniffling briefly. “I don’t think it’s chaotic. Humanity is a bit chaotic, what with suffering being a part of every life, but the universe is simply that. The universe. I mean, when it collapses eventually in heat death and does whatever it will, there’ll be nothing but energy from particles being smashed. Devoid of meaning until there’s some sort of movement again.”
“How insightful and uplifting.” Bob said, slumping back into the chair. “Do go on, very motivational so far.”
“Oh, come now,” Otto shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Again, from what I see, the universe isn’t chaotic. You’ve got atoms, well, subatomic particles. Semantics. Point is, some of those little things banded together and a few billion years later you have a rock with a bunch of talking multicellular organisms on it.”
“I’m following.” Bob replied, he knew that usually Otto had something profound when he was being overly scientific like this to start out. A primer to the thesis he had cooking in that big brain of his.
“We, as humans need to believe in things, to fight for them to make them real a lot of the time. That’s how civilizations were built. There was a common theme, a mythos of sorts, even if it’s not a religion, there’s at least some reverence given to the founders or leaders of civilizations. I mean, you know how it was when we met with various military leaders when we went to Grulovia the first time. They all had a similar vibe. An ‘I know who I am, I’m a powerful demigod of a man’.” Otto said, mocking not only the annoying military guy who helped them with the parachuting spoke, but also how he stood. “However, no matter how powerful we may see those people as, they had to manifest their ideas, rather than sitting idly by and hoping and praying for them to be. Anyone can do it, of course. Some people have stronger obstacles, but nothing is really impossible.” Otto said, picking up the machine part he was constructing, eyeballing it for imperfections. “Much like how I joined the Psychonauts, since academia ousted me, and no one else would hire me. I had to do things outside of convention in order to, well, father my inventions.” He chuckled, rotating the part in air briefly via telekinesis, before holding it in his hand once more. “I had to take fabrications in my head and put it into action to really make something.” He smiled, seeing his creation was to his liking before putting it back on the table to look at it again before proceeding to work more on it.
Bob looked back and forth between the machine part and a rather pleased Otto. “And how I joined the group, to go after some idea of life outside of that greenhouse. To really live.”
Otto shrugged, “we could say that, sure. Only if you feel that you connect to the comparison. Where was I? Oh yes, the universe is an empty void. Of course, there’s little creatures in the big void, that’s us, speckling it. We, as humans, created big civilizations, spreading across the globe. We’ve done good things, we’ve done great things, but very rarely have we done good and great things. Regardless, they’ve all, if not the vast majority, been because of lies.”
“Lies?” Bob asked, scrunching up his face. “I mean, you’re telling me people go to war, or help other people for no other reason other than lies? There are real causes to these things, Otto.”
“Real, but also fake. Much like my dreams, which are fake, in a sense, I was able to put effort into it, and make it a reality. I made a lie into a truth. A lot of these countries we can name off are built on moralities and ethics that aren’t intrinsic to the universe, justice and liberty and freedom, but are made by people. Again, look at the atoms that we’re made up of. If we go to an atom smasher right now, could you show me any particles that are made of mercy? Where are the justice particles?” Otto paused for a solid five seconds. “Exactly! Nowhere!” He said, kicking the rolling chair away from the desk and spun around for a bit, slowing down and stopping a bit past his shelves. “There may be free energy in the universe, but there is no free dom energy.” Otto pointed an index finger up as he slowly scooted his chair back to the desk he was sitting at. “Beauty, reason, and many more things philosophers have debated since the beginning, all of these things are lies we made real! Society is socially constructed. These big things that we build our lives and societies on, are all lies, but good lies. Most of the time. The helping other people out part? Good. Blowing each other up due to belief that one person is better than the other? Horrible. Regardless, we make them real, but without folktales and fairytales and myths we wouldn’t have humanity as we know it.” He arrived at the desk and sighed, putting his elbow on it, resting his face on his hand, leaning onto the table.
“So we have Sassclops to thank for this speech of yours?” Bob asked, still smirking as Otto didn’t simply stand up and push the chair back and sit back on it. What a showoff. But he would be lying if he said he didn’t miss this. “Still, even if the fear of me having a slump again and isolating is a lie, it’s still scary. I...I don’t want to lose you or anyone again.” He looked over at one of the inventions Otto had created, a flying camera with an eye on it, and by the time Bob had looked back to Otto, who had picked his wrench back up and was tending to the part he was working on.
“Again, any lie can be made truthful if we put enough energy into it. Maybe you’re not afraid of what happens if or when Helmut’s gone again, when any of us are gone. Maybe the real fear was that you were always worth loving, Bob. When you came to the gulch, back when dinosaurs were still roaming the earth, you were a bit of a hermit. Sure, you would chat at dinner, but it was hard to get a good conversation out of you for months. It took you a few weeks before Helmut came before you felt comfy with us. Even today, you came in here frantic and nervous to patch things up with me, worried I’d say no without solid evidence to back that up. I mean, I did try and chat with you, back at the gulch. Still, you were still able to consider that and come in here anyways. You were faced with an inaccurate reality, and believed the ‘lie’ that I would want to see you again and chat. And here we are.” Otto grinned.
“I guess?” Bob said, scratching his chin. It was a stretch, but he could sort of follow what Otto was getting at. These conversations back at the gulch usually went over better and were easier to parse over a joint or two.
“So, despite what you thought back then, worry about the present. If, in the future, those thoughts show up, that you’re unlovable and irredeemable. It’s just a lie your brain is making up. You can make that lie manifest if you want. Make it real. But, my advice? Go back to that path you traveled all those years ago. While Helmut helped you out of your shell when you two met, and you out of his shell, you were and are both good people, worthy of love all along. Despite what you grew up believing about yourselves. Sure, you’re imperfect, and you both had things, and have things to work out about yourselves. But who doesn’t? I know I may be a robot, but I have flaws in my programming too, cactus.” Otto winked, opening a drawer in the work desk he was sitting behind, digging for something.
“And you still don’t have that nobel prize, huh?” Bob asked, getting a chuckle out of Otto.
“So, it was easier to believe you weren’t loveable and shut yourself away for a while. Totally understandable. We were all tired out by the events of the battle those decades ago. I think most of us still are. But, even if you wake up one day and don’t feel right, and the lie of you being unlovable comes up and you buy into it. Maybe, just maybe, believe the lie that you are lovable until it becomes real again. Put your body and mind and soul into it.” Otto pulled his hand out of a drawer, and pulled out a bag of chips. He promptly opened it and ate one. “Wild concept, but people go to war for sillier, pettier lies of who’s more just and righteous. I mean, we got into this mess partly because of the lies of the leader of a bordering country to Grulovia, spreading lies of hoping to spread prosperity. But in reality, they were expanding land by conquering the surrounding lands and their people. I think a smart guy like yourself can take my silly idea and run with it, of course for the better. Fake it ‘til you make it, as the kids say.”
“I get the picture, now.” Bob was focused still, playing with the wedding ring on his finger. “Well, a few minutes ago, but I let that hot air of yours get out for your sake.” He looked up to see Otto smirk. Just like old times.
Otto looked at Bob while he grabbed another chip, continuing his point. “Hey, despite everything Bob, you’re still you. That dry humored jerk with a guarded heart of gold that I love to talk with. You’ll find what you’re looking for some day, Bob. I know it. Just, keep holding tight, those sands of time are still flowing. And that cycle of yours, you’re working on it and it shows. Just know that if for whatever reason you’re having trouble navigating, I’ve always got an ear. I meant it back then, and I mean it now. Don’t see the offer changing in the future anytime soon. Despite the alarms and caution signs, my lab is usually always open to you visiting.”
Bob leaned over and grabbed a tissue from the box on Otto’s desk, “you’re right, those machines really do get oil everywhere, huh?” He sat back and dabbed his eyes, then blew his nose. “Thank you. I…I don’t know what to say.”
“How about a ‘gee Otto, those chips look delicious. Mind if I steal a few?’ That’s always a good start.” Otto said, pointing the bag towards Bob and shaking it. “But really, though, it’s been twenty years of life like that, those roots are deep. Take some time and marinate on those thoughts of yours. Just remember that sure, suffering is a fact of life, but it’s when we as humans come together, can we overcome that suffering. Or at least make it a little better. Friend.”
Bob put his hand in and pulled out a few chips. “I’ll keep that in mind, pal. And, thanks, Otto.” He popped the salt and vinegar flavored chips into his mouth, and as he ate them the entryway siren went off. The two exchanged glances, Otto shrugged, and they both looked at the door as it opened.
Helmut Fullbear walked past the doors and stood in amazement as he got a good look around the rather gigantic lab. “Wow, this place is amazing! I mean, I was here when I was a brain, and back when you had to pop me out of Nick, but it’s always a sight to behold, even on the fourteenth time.” His gaze dropped to Otto and Bob. “Hey, Bobby! I was just looking for you!”
“Helmut, how did you know I was here?” Bob asked, standing up and hugging his husband. “I mean, not that it’s not a welcomed surprise, just…a surprise.”
“I asked around, it’s getting close to dinnertime.” Helmut said, tapping a bare wrist. “We have that thing with Truman, remember?”
“Oh…right.” Bob nodded slowly. He had only really chatted with his nephew a few times since he rejoined the psychonauts. It was mostly about Lili and how she’d grown and how Truman saw a lot of Bob in her. The passion and fire to make the world a better place, to fight and learn and grow. Resourcefulness and resolve, and some of his humor and wit. Bob wasn’t sure how dinner would go, but Truman seemed relieved to have Bob back in his life. He just hoped he could live up to his nephew’s expectations, and make a good impression on Lili. The two had passing conversations, but never anything longer than a brief greeting and small talk. She did ask for lessons for pyrokinesis and herbophony, since Truman was busy a lot lately, but he only replied that he’d think about it. She’d probably ask about that again. At least the dinner conversation would be exciting. Most importantly though, Lili seemed unaffected by the cycle that Bob, his sister, and the few things Truman went through. Truman had done a good job keeping Lili away from inheriting any painful aspects of the Zanotto family, and Bob intended to keep it that way.
“I’d hate to keep you, but there’s two things.” Otto said, holding up a couple of fingers on his right hand. “One, I hear Compton is making his dark chocolate pomegranate cake later this evening. So if you sneak away, I may reserve a few slices for the both of you. No guarantees, you know how Cassie is with pomegranates. Persephone wishes she had that appetite.”
“Hopefully there’ll be something to drink, like coffee?” Bob asked, reminiscing the last time he had that cake, it was his birthday, only a few weeks before Lucy left, the last time he could recall being truly happy and not being mired in doubt and worry. However he had begun to slip on his rule, and snuck in a few glasses of wine. It was nothing then, but it was a stumbling point Bob was too hard headed to pick himself up from for far too long.
Otto shrugged, “no guarantees, but I’ll see what I can do. Whatever it is, I’ll make sure it’s unleaded so to speak. I think there’s some chai I could rustle up, if there’s no good decaf coffee.” Otto looked off into the distance as if he was trying to find the location where either of those things were stored in his memory before even trying to grab them physically in his kitchen. “As for the other thing, Helmut. About the time powers you have…would you mind if we run a few experiments? Nothing invasive, naturally, think of it like back at the gulch. I’m curious if we could do something relativistic, if you catch my drift.”
Helmut put his hand to his chin and snapped his fingers, “that explains the research papers you sent me regarding string theory and loop quantum gravity. It’s a bit above my pay grade, but I’m filling any gaps with some books Sasha let me borrow. I’ll do it, but only if you promise the information is on a need to know basis and stays between you, me, and Sasha otherwise. Gulch rules. Deal?”
“Cross my heart.” Otto said, raising his right hand, making an ‘x’ over his chest with his left. “Well, that’s all I had to say, hope to see you later tonight. If not, I’ll make sure to keep the cake slices in the lab fridge. They’ll be kept far and away from any specimens I have, I hate to mar the taste with anything in there.”
Helmut pulled at Bob’s hand. “C’mon, we’re probably late. Thank you, Otto!” He started to move towards the door. Despite the brief time out of the deep freeze, Helmut was still almost as mobile as ever, cane and frostbite be damned.
Bob blinked and waved at Otto, taking one last glance at him while keeping up with his husband. “Yes, thank you!” He said, looking over his shoulder as the door closed behind him. Bob wasn’t sure what he did to deserve a friend like Otto, a husband like Helmut, nor half of the other people in his life, but maybe he could leave that at the door for now. Accept that he didn’t know why these people were in his life, but go with the flow a bit again. Regardless of all the questions Bob juggled, there was a promise to be kept between him and Helmut, a promise to break bread with his nephew, and possible cake to be eaten, among other things.
Helmut took a pause when they got outside. The sun was setting and the valley carved into the quarry had the same glow to it that the gulch did all of those evenings ago when the two would hike and picnic. Bob stood next to Helmut, looking out onto the lake. “Hey.” He tangled his right hand into Helmut’s left, the other man’s wedding ring still on his finger, despite being worn down by the pressure and ice for two decades. “Are you doing okay?”
Helmut sighed in response, squeezing Bob’s hand. “I just.” He trailed off, looking at the pink puff balls in the sky. “I’m proud of you, this isn’t easy, but you’re doing the right thing, I think. Talking with Otto, and then Truman and Lili soon. Things are super different now, but just know nothing has changed between us, okay? I’m rooting for you while you go on this journey.”
“Of course, I mean, nothing’s happened since we reunited that’s told me otherwise.” Bob said, looking over at Helmut, locking eyes with him. There was a gentleness to the other man’s face, a softness despite knowing of everything, and acceptance of it.
“Good. I’m glad. Also, our nephew can wait a bit longer while I do this.” Helmut smiled, leaning in, a knowing smile creasing his face.
“Nothing too long.” Bob chuckled, closing the gap. “At least, not until after dinner.” The two met and kissed. It wasn’t anything long, but still had a strong intimacy to it like the past few decades hadn’t passed. It warmed Bob up and he felt some tension regarding seeing his nephew again and sitting down to meet his great-niece flow away.
The two pulled apart and Helmut tugged at Bob’s hand, leading them back to the motherlobe. “I’m checking back in with you about that offer after.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Bob replied, following Helmut to Truman’s place. They were absolutely late by now, but from what Bob gathered in his chats with Truman, he wouldn’t mind too much. Besides, the food would still be warm.
Perhaps Bob didn’t die when Helmut left him, perhaps in the end, he was worthy of love, like Otto said. If Helmut were to leave again, heaven forbid, he had some new tools in his belt to handle it better, and an offer from a good friend to do it right this time around. Just a matter of time of getting used to these new thoughts, solidifying words to thoughts and actions. Should the opportunity to use them arise, that is. Bob only hoped that Helmut was smarter than him, that he had found this out. Should Bob leave before Helmut, that he won’t be stuck in the same rut, succumb to the gravity of heartbreak. But that was a conversation for a different time. For now, no fires to be put out. With major deadlines nonexistent, what else was left now but to love?