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The Milky Way stretched its way in a magnificent arc across the sky, highlighting the already brilliant sea of stars with a luminous cloud. The silence of night was only broken by the cool desert breeze, and the subtle whirring of the research center’s machinery. The builder was in a trance. If it weren’t for the grounding sensation of the research center’s hard roof under their back, and the warmth and the slow rise and fall of Qi’s breathing at their side, they felt as if they could just fall upwards into that beautiful cosmic expanse.
A rather bright shooting star suddenly shot across their vision. The builder gasped, mind frantically stumbling to make a wish. Beside them, Qi tensed. It was only after a solid five seconds after it disappeared from view that he relaxed with a sigh of…relief? Disappointment?
“No impact,” he said, before the builder could ask him for his wish. He probably would’ve insisted that he didn’t make one, anyway.
“...Is that a good thing?” the builder asked.
“I was wondering if that was an Old World satellite or space debris that fell out of orbit.”
“I think it’d look more like a giant fireball if it was. Probably would fall into the ocean anyways.”
Qi groaned. “What a waste.”
“Hey, if that thing fell onto Sandrock, it’d be me cleaning up the mess.”
“That’s ideal! You would be the first one to hand me any relics you find inside.”
The builder snorted. “Is that why we’re dating?”
“I suppose it is a benefit. Companionship, positive emotions, a wellspring of inspiration and ideas, and exclusive access to new relics before the Civil Corps and the Church get their grubby fingers on them first.”
“Glad to see you know everything you want out of a partner,” the builder laughed. Qi joined in, his chest rumbling against them with his quiet chuckling. “Seriously though, what are the odds of something like that crashing here in town?”
Qi hummed in thought. “I’m not sure. Overall, it’s astronomically low, but with the recent satellite crash in Portia, the odds might change ever so slightly. Might be wishful thinking on my part though.”
“Hey, you never know.” The builder gently took Qi’s hand and laced their fingers together. “3.14%, remember?”
Qi turned towards them, eyes widened. “I’m surprised you remembered that.”
“Yeah. Ever since you told me that, I always wondered how exactly you got that number. Seems kinda hard to calculate.”
“Indeed it was. I decided to challenge myself and attempt to calculate what so many thought was utterly unquantifiable.”
“Mhm. Don’t really think of numbers when I think of love.”
“There may not be a number to quantify love itself, but you’d be surprised to know how many factors that affect love can be expressed with numbers.”
“Really? Like what?” The builder turned onto their side to face Qi, settling in for another one of his thorough, rambling explanations.
“Well, for my calculations, my primary consideration was people,” he began, speaking as if summarizing his latest findings to a fellow researcher. “Both myself and the people around me. I had always wanted to be a researcher, and I preferred to work either alone or with a close friend. Any communication with others besides my family could be done through letters or telegrams. So that already made my chances low. Intuitively, the fewer people I interact with, the lower my chances of forming any sort of connection with one. Pairing that with my rather raw personality, the chances of meeting anyone at all who would be romantically interested are also incredibly low.”
“But not zero,” the builder chimed, nudging Qi’s side with a grin.
“No, not zero,” Qi echoed, breathing a quiet, wistful sigh. “In any case, I took those factors into consideration, combined it with several other variables like Alliance population densities and general reports on romantic compatibility in couples, and found that my chances at finding love were around 3.14%. Accounting for error, of course.”
Accounting for error…so that could’ve been an overestimate. “...Was it…difficult to see the result?”
Qi hesitated. “At the time, it seemed rather sad. But when I considered how rare love seemed to be from personal accounts and stories, it started to make sense. I wasn’t particularly bothered in the long-term. I was still interested in research first and foremost.”
Silence fell over the two of them again. The builder kept their eyes on Qi, trying in vain to read his expression. Qi just kept staring calmly at the stars above.
He was the first to break the silence with a quiet hum. “It’s been a long time since I ever considered that calculation. It’s in much need of a revision.”
“Really? What changes?”
“Different environments, for one. Sandrock is completely different to Vega 5 in every aspect. A smaller community in crisis and differences in culture make one more obligated to personally interact with others. Especially when its citizens keep barging in on you writing important proofs just to give you another spare power stone…” he muttered through his teeth, throwing the builder an aside glare. They just laughed, seeing the faint sparkle of amusement in his eyes.
“Ohhhh nooo, what kind of monster would do that?”
“One persistent enough to annoy me into liking them.”
“Heh. So how much does that change the odds?”
“It increases them by a somewhat significant amount. I never anticipated leaving Vega 5 when I was younger, so I couldn’t have foreseen something like that. But I think it’s irrelevant regardless.”
“Irrelevant how?”
“There’s a second new factor that I couldn’t have seen coming even when I moved to Sandrock. It single-handedly managed to overpower almost every other factor. I’d even call it anomalous; it was completely unprecedented.”
“An anomaly, huh?”
“Yes. An anomaly no one could have foreseen.” Qi turned on his side to meet the builder’s eyes. “It came by train from Highwind one day, and soon enough, it managed to tangle itself into everything. The city’s well-being, the lives of everyone here…and even my own feelings.”
The builder flushed. “A-aw come on. Doesn’t sound like an anomaly to me.”
“Ah, but it was. Sandrock was clearly on a decline on all fronts. Ecologically. Economically. And yet, when the anomaly appeared, everything seemed to start turning around. Slowly, but noticeably.”
They smirked. “Well. Aren’t you the one who keeps saying ‘correlation doesn’t mean causation?’”
“Very good. But correlation may imply causation,” he corrected. “Many times it doesn’t, but if there is a logical reason for the correlation, a causation may be inferred.
“With the anomaly came restoration of town infrastructure, despite numerous bandit attacks, a dramatic increase in production speed and quality from the commerce guild, and even minor reversal of desertification. This anomaly was at the center of it all, an uncontrollable and unpredictable variable in everything. I think it’s fair to say it’s a logical causation, wouldn’t you?”
“Okay, okay. But what’s it got to do with you?”
“Ah. E-erm. Well. Through…extensive direct interaction with the anomaly, it was pretty clear to see the effects it had on me.” Qi suddenly seemed to have trouble keeping his eyes on the builder’s.
“Oh?” they curled their lips into a coy smile. “Care to fill me in on your methodology?”
Even in the dark, they could see Qi’s face reddening. “I–uh…wasn’t expecting to be writing a new research paper right now. Much less in a…spoken-word format.”
“You’re stalling…” the builder replied in a sing-songy voice. “Methods?”
“Er…interactions were basic to start with. A small conversation here or there. Several new machine diagrams drawn. Occasionally it produced a power stone or data disk right as my supply was running dry. Or a fresh cup of tea. Somehow it never seemed to run out of goodwill.”
“And then I guess it started snowballing from there.”
Qi nodded. “Interactions became increasingly frequent. And my research catapulted ahead with its help. I was receiving more relics and data disks than ever before. Then it somehow managed to give me a telescope–” He gestured to the giant thing beside them on the roof. “--something only the most esteemed researcher at Vega 5 could ever hope to touch. It even managed to manifest one of my greatest dream designs into a physical reality–”
“From something very obscure…” the builder grinned.
“Something you never would’ve heard of,” Qi snorted. “Results were striking. Frequent interaction with the anomaly resulted in nearly doubled amounts of positive emotions and increased desire for further interaction. You could say it triggered a positive feedback loop in me, where interaction led to desire for more interaction, which led to more interaction, and so on. An utterly fascinating phenomenon.”
The builder felt their cheeks heating again, looking away with a bashful smile. “And how did that loop get started exactly?”
“Not by conscious choice. It just so happened that the anomaly’s work tied firmly into my work. Encountering it was inevitable.” He paused. A fresh breeze washed over them, chilling the builder’s back.
“So. Back to our calculation. When we factor in this anomaly, my old calculations become totally obsolete. Instead of 3.14%, the probability of me finding love…” His voice lowered to the softest whisper.
“...is 100%.”
The builder was at a loss for words. They could only stare back at him, eyes glittering like the stars above. Qi’s face softened into that rare, private smile reserved just for them: small but full of warmth. It made their entire body glow with an invisible, but brilliant light.
Qi closed his eyes. “If the parallel universe theory is to be believed, there are many universes where you never come to Sandrock. There are many universes where I never come to Sandrock. But in every one that we do come here, and we meet…I will always fall for you.” He closed the distance between them, gently bringing his forehead to theirs. “The data doesn’t lie.”
His breath tickled their lips, making it achingly difficult to resist his touch. They slowly brought their hand up to his chin, tilting his head toward them with a feather-light brush. They moved in tandem, bringing their lips together into a gentle kiss.
Qi sucked in a gasp through his nose, caught unaware. And then he relaxed, letting it out as a blissful sigh. He brought his free hand up to weave it through the builder’s hair, pulling them as close as he could. They felt their nose nudge his glasses out of place, but that hardly mattered.
The builder let themself melt into Qi’s warmth. The glow inside of them burned brighter and brighter. They no longer had to imagine themself falling up into the endless sky. They were there already, a brand-new star floating on the celestial sea.
They pulled away to breathe, and suddenly they were back on Earth. The remnants of Qi’s touch tingled beneath their skin, the glow fading but never vanishing. Qi still gave them the same tranquil smile, his face ruddied all the way to his ears. The builder returned it with an adoring gaze of their own.
“I love you,” they whispered.
“And I, you,” he whispered back.
None in Sandrock would ever hear them, but the gentle wind carried the words from their lips, lifting them up, up, and away for the stars alone to listen.