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The History Heap was bustling, yet mostly quiet. Everyone was walking about, working tirelessly to read and dissect the books, non-books, and artifacts that have been preserved from the Before Times in hopes to someday understand it all fully. There were discussions that got heated, but they were muffled by the sheer amount of stacks upon stacks of pure information.
They were easy to get lost in. Parcel got lost in them a lot.
Not in the sense that they didn’t know where they were going. They knew their way around the History Heap better than anywhere. What they got lost in was the information written within the books. They could find a good section of the heap and study the books within for days.
Herbie was sometimes able to pull them out of their stupor.
“Parcel, you need to take a break.”
Parcel was leaning against a shelf of well organized books, scouring for a new one. They noticed Herbie’s presence, but weren’t acknowledging it. Acknowledging it would require too much of their effort, which at the moment was being used elsewhere.
“Or at the least get back to work at our assigned section,” Herbie relents. “Aunt Freaky’s been asking questions, and I can only cover for you for so long.”
“Says you,” Parcel says, finally pulling themselves away from the shelf and facing Herbie. “You spent all of our work day yesterday hidden away reading that fiction book you have about wizards and sentient men made of straw and tin.”
“There’s also a sentient lion and a young human woman.”
“There is no way Oz was a real place. And if it was, that book about it must have been exaggerating a lot about it.”
“We’ve been over this already, that’s part of the allure.” Herbie sighs. “But you’re trying to distract me. What were you reading about this time?”
“I’ve been combing through these books on gender and gender expression.”
Herbie furrowed his brow. “Those books have been read through hundreds of times. Gender is one of the few social phenomena that has carried over from the Before Times to now.”
Parcel shrugs, putting the books they had in their hands back onto the shelf. “I… just don’t think I fully understand the topic.”
“Oh.” Parcel truly hoped Herbie knew what they were getting at with this, and with the look on Herbie’s face, it seemed he did. “What specifically about it do you not fully understand?”
“Why does it matter?”
“To me?”
“No,” Parcel corrects, “to everyone.”
“To everyone?” Herbie makes a face, then leans on a bookshelf. “I don’t think I can answer that question. I think you’d have to ask everyone.”
“I’m serious, Herbie,” Parcel deadpanned.
“So am I!” Herbie put his hands up in defence. “I truly think that the only way you could answer your question is by asking every individual on the globe.”
“That’s preposterous. That would imply my question has no clear cut answer.”
Herbie’s posture relaxes into a shrug. “Maybe it doesn’t.”
Parcel internally cringed. That was so like Herbie to say. ‘Maybe the reason we can find no answers is because there are no answers.’ Why in the world would there be no answers? Why would the people of the Before Times act without reason? Why would something that seemed so binary (with many exceptions that Parcel was acutely aware of) be so different from person to person?
There was always a discomfort that came with an uncertainty this large.
“Aren’t you nonbinary?” Herbie asks, as if trying to get Parcel to talk about what was on their mind instead of just thinking about it. “If you came to that conclusion about your gender, why are you confused?”
That just made Parcel even more confused.
Sure they said they were nonbinary. They announced themselves as such as soon as they learned the word. And nobody took issue with it because why would they? But maybe Parcel took issue. Maybe that wasn’t exactly true. Maybe it was just something that was easy to say and was less discomforting than the other options, so they said it.
“I think that’s just something I say,” Parcel concludes. “I think that’s easier than admitting I don’t understand.”
“That’s fascinating,” Herbie says thoughtfully. He lowered himself to sit cross-legged on the ground, beckoning Parcel to sit next to him. They did, not wasting time to rest their head on his shoulder, just in the way they have always liked. They spent several moments like that until Herbie spoke again. “I don’t think I understand either.”
“You don’t?”
“No.” Herbie’s hands fall to his lap, his fingers stringing together and fiddling about. “I don’t. I think being a boy is just something I say, too.”
“But in your brain, you don’t truly understand?”
Herbie takes Parcel’s hand tenderly, gently pushing it against his chest. There was a smile on his face.
“In my heart.”
“Your heart is an organ that pumps blood, it is not capable of complex thought.”
Herbie laughs. “One of these days I’ll teach you what it means to suspend your disbelief.”
“One of these days…” Parcel parrots, not exactly opposed. They thread their fingers with Herbie's and put them in their lap. Fiction wasn’t their forte, but they really weren’t as opposed to learning about it as they seemed.
“What I’m saying, Parcel, is that I don’t think it’s necessarily a bad thing that you don’t understand the appeal of the gender binary or even terms outside the binary. Some people find comfort in it, but I don’t think having a name for what you feel is something you need if it doesn’t serve you.”
“That is… something to think about, I suppose.”
Herbie nods. “I agree, I’ve been thinking about it, too. About gender and how much of a performance it can be.”
Parcel nods, opting to slip back into a comfortable silence with Herbie. They truly did need to think about this. Do more research on… themselves? What a doozy this would be.