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"Mister Ratio, I can almost see your mental processes appear in the air around you, like translucent holograms," Ratio can hear that his companion is amused, but also that Mechanical Aristocrat is trying to contain his amusement in order to maintain decorum; although with how gentle and humane his humor is this isn't necessary at all.
Ratio straightens up and turns away from the plant that has caught his attention, lowering the hand that he had been holding his chin with in thoughtfulness. Meeting Screwllum's gaze, he explains easily, gesturing:
"Beauty invites reflection. Given that it is spread out in all directions here, it would be a futile effort to try to see it all. Without entertainig any illusions about it, I prefer to thoughtfully approach all those few valuable impressions that I will manage to receive in the short time that we will spend here today."
Screwlum nods. He stands downwind, and the air current is playing with the tassel of his monocle and tugging at the folds of his neckerchief. Ratio briefly wonders if Screwllum likes the wind's effect on him, if he cares about it at all, if he even notices it.
"It's a rather wise approach. After all, even after a hundred visits, even I still feel like you could spend your entire life here and only get to know an infinitesimal part of this world," Screwllum notes.
Perhaps it would be appropriate for one of Nous' chosen ones to express frustration at this point. But Mechanical Aristocrat's voice is tinged only with inspiration and awe. For some obscure reason, this detail pleases Ratio. He grins, half-turning away.
Ratio looks around and takes a deep breath, a serene expression on his face, one that he doesn't usually have except in a perfectly prepared bath. The air of the natural reserve is intoxicatingly fresh and rich with subtle scents, in keeping with the truly blissful view that now stretches out around the two of them.
Mr. Lorenzo's research station is no longer visible in the distance, and so the landscape bears no traces of intelligent beings interfering with the original design of this world. Only clear spring skies, curly hills, and variegated fields - and a narrow path along which they plan to follow into the nearby forest. Something similar has been imagined throughout the Galaxy since ancient times as the final resting place of heroes and the righteous ones.
“Well,” Ratio gestures at the magnificent scene around them, “if one day I will find myself facing an exile and, in recognition of my academic achievements, will have the right to choose my place for it…” Screwllum laughs before Ratio even finishes his sentence: “Do expect a call.”
On the way into the forest, they discuss abstract and near-work topics, such as the continuous modeling of time that they should use to describe the trajectories of eco-evolutionary processes in the next phase of their project. And perhaps Screwllum is quietly surprised that Ratio prefers to talk at length about Lsiipegle's approach now, instead of asking the many questions about this world he must have. But Ratio deliberately restrains himself from expressing too much interest.
…From what he had already seen and heard at the research station, a thorough exploration of this planet could yield resources and materials with completely unique properties which could gift the universe with engineering marvels and unique medicines. However, given the long, troubled history of IPC practices (and who else would shoulder such a huge ambition as the exploration of this planet?), Ratio can just as easily imagine that the reserve could be plundered for something as trivial as spices, and the ecosystems would eventually be irreversibly damaged for the sake of insatiable economic exploitation. Therefore, this place will remain closed to outsiders for the time being. And consequently, Ratio sees no point in asking about anything here, because if he starts asking questions, he will only engage in thoughts that he eventually won't be able to put into practice. Moreover, it would be inappropriate to count on a second visit. It is wiser to treat everything around them as a beautiful dream.
Already in the giant forest of trees that must be thousands of years old, they are greeted right at the entrance by the polyphony of its feathered inhabitants: cries, twittering and trilling, the songs of dozens of bird species flying from one tree to another, rustling their wings high above their heads; different tonalities and intricate melodies are carried everywhere, echoing throughout the area. Ratio chuckles.
"A proper bird congress."
"Haha. Next time I could show you a forest in another part of the world where the tree branches are completely covered with butterflies so that the flutter of their countless wings resembles the sound of a waterfall."
Next time. The invitation is handed to him so easily and naturally, with diplomatic grace, and it has its effect, which Ratio immediately feels as the now familiar stirring in his stomach. Following this, he feels the need to change the subject, frowning and unconsciously crossing his arms over his chest.
"All in due time. Let's get back to what the present offers us. Could you remind me what we talked about last on the way here?"
"Evolution and the biases of our perception."
"Ah, yes. The so-called 'life force.'"
"It would be disingenuous of me to pretend that I am not as predisposed to creationism as any inorganic being," Screwllum gestures. "Though I suppose my involvement in the development of the Simulation Universe has already given you that suspicion."
Ratio places a hand on his hip and puts his lips in a small smile, indicating that he appreciates the joke, before giving a serious answer. He himself has no clearly defined cosmogonic or metaphysical preferences. Therefore, all he can say on the subject ultimately boils down to the following:
"I cannot help but wonder about the practicality of this gargantuan question. The rational way of being on this plane of existence will be the same whether we, and even the Aeons themselves, were deliberately created by some higher organizing intelligence or were accidentally generated in the cradle of this world through a series of chemical reactions that led to abiogenesis without anyone's supervision. That is the beauty of Truth - it does not change depending on circumstances."
"I understand where your skepticism comes from."
Screwllum sighs and crosses his arms over his chest, and seeing this, Ratio wants to clarify that it is not proper for a genius to take the opinion of an incompetent layman as a guide, although he does not devalue someone else's work at all, but only... asks questions. But the Screwllum does not give him the opportunity to interrupt himself in any case, continuing:
"This is an important critical look, and it prompted me to conduct a deep analysis of the goals and capabilities of our development at the moment." After these words, Ratio feels a significant relaxation in his entire tensed body. "Speculation: I do not think that the goals of the Simulation Universe will change in the near future. But this does not mean that it cannot be expanded one day."
“It goes without saying that I wish you success in this and other scientific exploits of the Genius Society,” Ratio says with emphasis and clarity, implying that he would like to close the topic. “Shall we move on?"
He didn't just now need this reminder of the infinite number of things that make him and Screwllum two phenomena of completely different worlds. Ratio steps back a bit and turns around questioningly when he doesn't hear footsteps following him.
For a few seconds, it seems to him that Screwllum wants to add something to what has already been said. But when his optics flicker again, he just politely agrees:
"With pleasure."
As they continue their leisurely stroll, they make no effort to remember the route, nor do they worry about their safety – they're guided by the GPS devices they received at the research station, while other devices hanging from their necks emit frequencies that scare away large predators in the area. They are thus free to indulge in the aesthetic impressions that the reserve provides in abundance. The place is brimming with life – the surprisingly loud rustling of the tree tops high above them, the cries of birds everywhere, the buzzing and flickering of midges in the air, the small runs and jumps of reptiles and other small animals (some watching their silhouettes pass by with unblinking eyes, fascinated by this unlikely encounter), the gentle swaying of the grasses and bushes, the dance of shadows from the moving giant branches on the ground…
They witness many random beautiful compositions, large and small, and Ratio is not surprised to learn that Screwllum visits here, among other things, to gather artistic and engineering ideas. Mechanical Aristocrat enjoys observing the patterns, movements, and structures here, which he can then use in his biomimetic robotics designs — or even in recreational drawin g. Ratio understands this very well.
"I must say that this place managed to transport me back in time several years," he admits during one of their stops, his hand resting on his hip. "This diversity of life reminded me of the time when I wrote my two dissertations in biology."
"Truly beautiful volumes," Screwllum answers without hesitation.
The corners of Ratio's lips lift slightly. There is no surprise in his tone: "Don't tell me you've read them, too."
"I'm not the first member of the Genius Society to show interest in your work," Screwllum reasons, and Ratio chuckles to himself. As he already knows, this appeal to the relativity of everything is his companion's favorite rhetorical tactic for smoothing over the meaning of his words. "After all, #55 Yu Chingtu even wrote an admiring review of both of your dissertations, expressing the opinion that they 'accelerated the scientific world's understanding of species evolution by 1,000 years..'"
...Yes, Ratio remembers that review. And the pride he felt when he read and reread that eulogy, memorizing it as a kind of justification for his main aspiration. But he remembers even better the apathy that crushed him to the ground when recognition from a higher authority never came. At that point, he had not yet lost faith.
"I can only echo my colleague's words," Screwllum continues, his optics flickering with his words of deep respect. "Your dissertations are two outstanding scientific artifacts, and they also possess undeniable literary value, as they are written in an entertaining and aesthetically pleasing manner. Your personality rings between the lines, and your dedication to conveying knowledge to your readers in the clearest way possible shines through in every word."
As Ratio listens to this praise, he remembers with an ambiguous expression the way Screwllum spoke to the young explorer, Mr. Lorenzo, who had provided them with the necessary equipment immediately upon their arrival. Screwllum's tone in that other conversation had been as affable as ever, and no one could have doubted the generosity of his disposition; and yet, Ratio had heard that his speech had been decidedly formal, full of polite generalities, its very melodic contour too even and approving; it had, oh, so subtly, betrayed an appraising attitude of superiority. But the way Screwllum sounds now is the way he sounds when something really interests and moves him, namely, thoughtful, sensitive, and passionate. And Ratio knows Mechanical Aristocrat well enough today to be able to make such judgments. This is a strange and... personal realization that requires further reflection in private.
Ratio makes a grateful half-bow. Against the background of his realization, he consciously answers with a veneer of formality:
"Thank you for your continued interest in my humble work. And please accept my special gratitude for the opportunity to witness all the unique macro- and micro-processes here live. I haven't thanked you yet, have I? Well, I assure you, the sum of my impressions today will continue to remind me of the importance of our projects."
"I am very glad to hear that," Screwllum responds softly and warmly, causing Ratio to smile a little. "My calculations informed me that you would like to see how the equations we formulated are implemented and become relevant in the real world beyond our intellectual models."
Ratio raises his eyebrows in surprise. Science not just for the sake of science? What a blatant violation of the credo of the Genius Society.
He looks into Screwllum's optics and feels a strange emotion. He hates being predictable, but now for some reason he, once again, feels touched by... the fact of being seen.
Ratio frowns and shakes his head. And he hears himself speaking in a much softer tone than before:
"Perhaps even after our recent intensive cooperation, I continue to know too little about the ruler of Planet Screwllum. After all, I can't help but ask myself: how is it that you are so different from the rest of your organization?"
Screwllum chuckles and puts one hand behind his back.
"Perhaps it is because I was a completely different individual when I was accepted into it. And although I see the necessity of that individual's existence in the past, my overall assessment is that my personality has significantly
changed for the better. My understanding of the processes around and within me has undergone radical changes after I began to accumulate wisdom and develop sensitivity in myself."
Screwllum's final words are accompanied by a gesture - he is casually offering a finger to a butterfly that has wandered away from its fellows flying nearby. As Ratio watches, he reflects that it is easy to respect a mountain range, but that it says a lot about a person's personality if they can respect something that can be crushed between their fingertips.
He doesn't share his observation out loud, but closes his eyes and grins. And says something completely different, ironically.
"Mr. Screwllum. I'm sure I'm not the only one wondering if the universe might need to prepare for the ascenscion of the Aeon of Nobility in the near future, if you continue on your chosen trajectory of goodwill."
"Haha. Spoken like the Aeon of Eloquence, Mr. Ratio."
They move through the forest for some time - Ratio deliberately stops to keep track of it for a reason he couldn't say if asked. He and Screwllum alternate between walking shoulder to shoulder, talking or in comfortable silence, and separating to look at something different before coming together again to move on together.
On one such occasion, Ratio rejoins his companion as Screwllum reaches out to pluck a fruit from a vine entwining a tree, only to see Mechanical Aristocrat instantly pull his limb back after the briefest contact. Screwllum looks down, seemingly confused, at the shiny fingers of his glove, stained with fruit juice. Apparently, the fruit was overripe on the side hidden fromScrewllum's view, and his fingers had accidentally sunk into the yielding flesh of the fruit.
"Are you in need of a handkerchief?" Ratio offers, always carrying his personalized one with him.
"Thank you, but I'm afraid that viscous juice won't come off easily."
"It must be uncomfortable for you to wear them all the time."
Ratio immediately senses that his observation has struck a nerve with Screwllum. His sense of something changing in the air between them is confirmed by the fact that Screwllum's response sounds considerably more neutral than his speech has been so far.
"Negative. Such incidents happen very rarely. Besides, without my gloves my image would look unfinished, don't you think?"
Ratio frowns. He knows what the real reason is. He guessed it in the last month and a half. And not for the first time he feels the desire to show sympathy, since he is not able to offer a solution or consolation.
He would like to tell the gentleman in front of him that no matter who Screwllum is, he is an absolutely amazing, noble, wise, bright, inspiring individual, from just one casual contact with whom you become better as a person, and that this will be confirmed by anyone, from a simpleton to Aeon, even though there are so few things that cause a universal consensus in this world.
But as it is, after a pause, Ratio simply takes out and hands Screwllum a handkerchief with thin lace edges - the same one with which he usually wipes his Codex.
"Take it. It is absolutely necessary for me to offer you something in return for the privilege of visiting your garden. You may return it to me the next time we meet. Or keep it as a souvenir, if you are inclined to such sentimental gestures."
Ratio is sure that the Screwllum's romantic nature must indeed be inclined to those. One might even say that part of him is counting on it. And Screwllum does indeed accept the handkerchief from his hand.
"Thank you, Mr. Ratio. Perhaps I really shouldn't refuse." Having used the thing, Screwllum carefully puts it in his pocket, and for some reason Ratio feels his heartrate accelerate at the sight of his movements. Then, Screwllum takes out his phone and checks his messages. "Mr. Lorenzo reminds us of the time restrictions, and, unfortunately, we really should head back soon. But we still can watch the sunset for a while, which will enter a particularly expressive stage in just 7 minutes. I know a place with a good view not too far away from here."
That very place turns out to be a wonderful natural viewing platform at the edge of the hill ending the forest. On it, they stand side by side in a bright, blissful golden light, warming their bodies. Below them lies a plain caressed by a spring evening and painted with the first colors of the sunset, and high above, a solitary bird periodically gives out its proud, wild cry.
Ratio breathes deeply, enjoying the hymn-like feeling that this whole moment inspires in him.
And… how strange.
He discovers that, somehow, except for the change of scenery, there is nothing new in the essence of what is happening. For this feeling of the two of them being alone in a magnificent world inviting them to explore it has been with him for the past five and a half weeks.
Ratio frowns and swallows. He doesn't look at his company, but he feels that Screwllum is looking at him, as he does so often. And the thought that his own silhouette should now be surrounded by a golden outline, and must be a fascinating, unforgettable image, inspires a kind of pleasant confidence in Ratio.
Enough so that when a gust of wind ruffles his hair, Ratio remembers something that came to his mind earlier today and asks a question.
"Do you like the feeling of the wind washing over your body?"
"Yes." There is an incomprehensible gratitude in Screwllum’s voice. However, it immediately becomes clear: "And I am pleased by your interest in my subjective feelings."
Something in this remark makes Ratio feel embarrassed. He crosses his arms over his chest and answers with a chuckle:
"Why should I not demonstrate this interest? What I see through your eyes always is enriching. And it's always a great honor for me to be the recipient of your monarchical confidences."
At this point, their usual exchange of compliments should follow. Therefore, Ratio is completely unprepared for the fact that Screwllum addresses him in a tense tone next - in surprise, he even turns to Mechanical Aristocrat.
"Mr. Ratio… I hope that nothing makes you feel as if I am speaking to you from my role as ruler of Planet Screwllum. Because in my own mind, I almost never do that."
Ratio doesn't know what to say to that, and just nods with a noncommittal sound.
He thinks about this moment all the way back to the research station and only comes to his senses when the two of them are already in the room with the space anchor. Screwllum finds a surefire way to facilitate this - he addresses him by his name, placing a hand on his chest and bowing.
"Thank you for sharing this evening with me, Veritas Ratio. I thought I knew this planet, but seeing it through your eyes today, I realize that I know nothing." Ceremonialism is another of Screwllum's favorite rhetorical tactics. And Ratio guesses what it is needed for now. Such a formal address should be followed by a handshake. But he cannot allow it. Not after how earlier, on the space station, walking arm in arm with Screwllum, his face expressionless, he was fiercely imagining how he would explain to particularly dense freshmen that the Pauli exclusion principle is neither a real force influencing the Lagrarian world nor a local gauge symmetry, distracting himself with theorems and examples to believe that the particles in Screwllum's hand also are just a spatially localized field excitation. And that there was absolutely no rational reason for his nervousness and his pounding heart.
To minimize the likelihood of physical contact, Ratio laughs and half turns away.
"Well, if you don't know anything, then the knowledge of others, my humble self included, must be measured in negative values."
"Haha."
Luckily, Screwlum adapts to the changing situation and does not offer that handshake. But he does offer something else.
"Friendly initiative: Another time we could stargaze. The nightsky is so clear and bright here that you can see the nearby group of planets. As for the general impression of the endless space decorated with these magnificent lights, it seems to me that from the ground it feels much b righter than on any space station."
Ratio loves astronomy, even though it isn't one of his main specializations. And that is precisely why after the words of invitation he feels ridiculously helpless, as is reflected on his face.
As he looks around the lab, thinking about his answer with his arms crossed, the eyes of the owl mask on his shoulder catch the light from one of Mr. Lorenzo's rotating machines nearby and flare for a second. Coincidentally, at that very moment, Ratio has a realization. Ratio turns to Screwllum and asks slowly and suspiciously:
"Mr. Screwllum, am I making you nervous right now?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Ah, that must be a bit of a surprise," Ratio gestures. "You see, except when you seem nervous, you almost never use verbal indicators like 'explanation' or anything of that nature in our conversations. The very ability to do so has suddenly and completely slipped out of your mind for a long time now. Hence my question: am I making you nervous?"
Pause.
"To be honest, I’ve never noticed this trend before," Screwllum admits. He sounds shocked… a little embarrassed even. "How long has it's been since you noticed this pattern?"
"Well. I can’t say for certain. But I realized that I noticed it just now."
"Thank you for increasing my self-knowledge. As for your question… Don’t think about it too much. I’m just unsure of the priority of certain ideas within my system. It’s normal after a day so full of impressions."
"It sounds like it might be the ruler of Planet Screwllum thinking too much right now."
There’s a challenge in Ratio’s words, but he says them in a tone that assures his companion that he’s willing to play the role of an attentive listener. He feels like he’s giving Screwllum an opportunity, even if he himself couldn’t name what it is.
"Haha. You may well be right. It’s curious that you’ve noticed this trend."
More than curious. What does it mean if he knows more about Screwllum than Screwllum claims to know about himself?..
Back at the Herta Space Station, Ratio informs Screwllum that he won't be coming to dinner. He bids his company farewell, rather coolly, referencing the need to prepare for his scheduled departure, and then spends another half an hour pacing his guest room.
Finally, catching himself pressing his hand to his chest, Ratio makes an irritated noise and collects his thoughts. He types out a message on his phone. It's a single sentence, which he rereads an unreasonable number of times before asking himself out loud, almost menacingly:
"Well? Are you going to send it?"
Even then, his thumb lingers over the respective sending button for another six seconds before finally pressing it. Click.
After this, Ratio finds that he has nothing to do and that he can’t think of anything else, so he first devotes himself to breathing exercises for a while, and then opens an anti-stress pattern-finding game that he developed for himself. All that remains is to wait, pretending that he is exclusively waiting for the time of his departure.
However, his wait does not last too long. Screwllum’s reply comes in after only seventeen minutes. Ratio sees the content of this message in the messenger preview and closes his eyes, releasing a heavy exhale. His heart burns, and he feels slightly dizzy. This inadequate reaction is precisely one of the reasons why he must clarify this today once and for all.
Before replying to the received message, Ratio rereads his own that started this dialogue.
Dr. Ratio: "Do you ground yourself on the right principle when you decide to waste your infinitely valuable genius monarch time as on a mundanite like me?"
Screwllum: "I believe I do."
Screwllum does not ask what prompted this question now, nor does he offer to explain his belief, even though he continues to remain online. Ratio ironically chuckles at having to prod the genius to continue to explain himself, as if he were one of his students.
Dr. Ratio: "And why do you believe that?"
Screwllum: "Are you sure you want a complete honest answer?"
Dr. Ratio: "Try me."
Screwllum: "This may require a few minutes of consideration. I fear that I may not be able to choose my words properly otherwise."
Since Screwllum does not continue for some time, Ratio sends him another, supportive message. After all, being a teacher makes it easier for him to deal with any situation.
Dr. Ratio: "If you are not brave, at least you are prudent; so that where you lack one virtue, you can claim to have another almost in excess."
Dr. Ratio: "I will not interrupt you any more."
After this, Ratio receives his answer.
Screwllum: "As you say."
Screwllum: "I could wish sir to live all my life, or the greatest part of it, with you. And before you question the sincerity of my confession: I am completely serious, Mr. Ratio."
Ratio does not go offline. But
Screwllum receives his response message only twenty-two minutes later, which, according to Ratio's subjective feeling, somehow manage to contain several months of emotions.
Dr. Ratio: "Dear friend, I cannot for the life of me imagine what could possibly interest you in my person, other than my extremely mediocre mind."
Screwllum: "I have 5,437 alternative answers."
Dr. Ratio: "Quality before quantity. Are any of them worthwhile?"
Screwllum: "For one, I have come to know you as a tremendously passionate individual, to the point that I, too, have become imbued with your fire. I have never felt the warmth, courage, and will to live that I have felt since the day I met you."
Dr. Ratio: "Even if that is true, I am not a person with whom it is comfortable to be around."
Screwllum: "Comfort is inherently subjective, is it not? Your personality matches my level of psychological comfort, and even more so."'
Dr. Ratio: "'Even more so?'"
Screwllum: "You inspire me with admiration. Our meetings, and even just your influence on me, make me feel as if something in me has sprouted and blossomed for the first time in my existence."
Screwllum: "Ergo, it is not my comfort level that I'm concerned about."
Dr. Ratio: "I am more than flattered, truly. But no matter what you say or believe now, you will quickly become bored with me once the winds of your interests shift, and I have no interest in that. Surely you must understand."
Screwllum: "Mr. Ratio, while I readily admit that my knowledge and expertise are otherwise limited, I still consider myself an expert on myself."
Screwllum: "I notice that you have avoided telling me how you feel about my confession."
Screwllum: "Your emotional response."
Dr. Ratio: "I know what the words mean, thank you."
Screwllum: "Then I would greatly appreciate the opportunity to hear it. It would mean a lot to me."
Ratio rises from his seat and paces for a while. He is a man of duty - a duty to heal and educate others. He cannot allow himself to be someone's experiment, not when the fates of many people depend on his own mental state. And it would be consistent to tell Screwllum that he is not interested in anything other than joint scientific work, that there is no place next to him that could be occupied by anyone.
As he thinks about this, Ratio notices that something inside him is growing numb, as if he himself is about to become one of his own statues.
Veritas Ratio.
Will he regret saying what he needs to say, and how long will that regret last if so? Will there be more regret if he doesn't say it? How can this... suggestion affect his life in general?
It's impossible to estimate it, because it's impossible to say what will happen. An equation with an infinite number of unknowns cannot have a solution.
Ratio looks in pain at the phone he left lying on the table.
Screwllum asks him to be candid in exchange for doing the same before.
He types his first short text, with his face burning and his heart pounding.
Quid pro quo.
Dr. Ratio: "I reciprocate."
And he curses at the typos, as he hurries to send the second one immediately after.
Dr. Ratio: "But once a boundary is displaced, it is extremely difficult to re-establish it through negotiation. The subject at hand cannot be exhausted in a single conversation."
Ratio's entire body flinches as the first of his final messages receives a reaction in chat - Screwllum gives him a green heart. Ratio holds his forehead and exhales shakily. He whispers to himself that he is an idiot, a completely unteachable sentimental idiot who is incapable of learning from experience, even after it has caused him so much pain.
A member of the Genius Society.
Trying to calm himself down, Ratio closes his eyes for a moment until he gets an audible notification that the conversation is is continuing.
Screwllum: "Thank you for your candor. I understand that you need time to think."
Screwllum: "We don't have to dwell on this until you have something else to say about it. I'm happy to continue our conversations as before. My only wish is to stay in touch with you."
Ratio considers giving a thumbs-up reaction or sending "okay," but ultimately does neither.
He takes a bath. Even in the warm, muscle-relaxing water, he can't stop thinking about what a stubborn, argumentative person he is, about all the times someone has called him something unpleasant, often with good reason. He wouldn't want to subject anyone to that.
And even less so this refined man, who so easily invented for himself the almost impossible possibility of becoming his friend.
His usual straightforwardness predetermines that some time before his departure, Ratio sends Screwllum another, short message. It only specifies the place and time: half an hour from the moment of sending; and the place where Ratio in an alabaster mask comes to wait is the corner of the space station where he and Screwllm played their first game of chess, which ended in a draw.
Can it be said that their new meeting here will be the endgame? At least, Ratio does not intend to endure uncertainty for any longer. They need to clarify their relationship before they part for some time.
Ratio is a scientist. And looking out into the cold, indifferent space beyond the giant window, he continues to search for definitions, to compare them, distill them, evaluate their advantages and disadvantages, draw logical diagrams, decompose concepts into their basic semantic components. Thinking, to be able to counter with logos those "butterflies in his stomach" that have haunted him for weeks now. Yes, he needs to put himself in the stoical state of mind and try to judge with complete detachment, even if inside he feels shaken.
And at the end of this session of personal reflection, he does have an answer.
If he were to seek advice, a crucial personal opinion, if he were to name someone whose competences, judgment, and integrity he could trust most, on whom he could place his complete, blind faith, he would name the ruler of Planet Screwllum. Perhaps, in such a scenario, he would be catastrophically wrong in his trust. But that does not change the fact that he is aware of his own willingness to give it.
"Mr. Ratio."
Turning away from the window, Ratio studies the features of Screwllum's faceplate and asks himself in passing: are you making me weaker? Are you making me slower? Are you making me lose respect for myself? The answer to all these questions is no. Then again, otherwise this meeting would noe take place now.
Out loud, Ratio says something else and shakes his head.
"Haven't you already permitted yourself to start using my name? A ruler shouldn't give up so easily what he's conquered."
He knows that all challenges must be met with courage, and that if he feigns ease long enough, it will become real.
Pause.
Screwllum leans back in surprise. In these moments, he seems like a man who can't believe his own privilege. This same difficulty in believing what he has heard in his voice when he asks further:
"When you invited me to come here in person, was there something special you wanted to discuss with me?"
Ratio crosses his arms over his chest and turns back to the space outside the window. On the one hand, he needs to be a witness to Screwllum's live reaction. On the other hand, he often rereads their chat, and no matter how this conversation continues, he will not be able to calmly see there what he is going to say next.
After a while of silence, sullen Ratio sighs. He says:
“I know little of… intimacy,” and shakes his head, unable to suppress the gesture. “Or perhaps I should say that it is an area in which I am extremely incompetent. Absolutely nothing, tabula rasa. Whatever you have already imagined, you should keep that in mind, Screwllum.”
As Ratio finishes his thought, he catches himself accidentally using his company’s name yet again in a restraining, semi-negative context. But Screwllum still seems encouraged by the use of his name. At least, there is a distinct note of excitement in his voice as he continues.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to hide my thoughts on relationships from you." Mechanical Aristocrat can be seen gesturing behind him in the window reflection. "That would be counterproductive. As for your involvement with the topic — I can't claim to have any experience myself."
Ratio is so surprised to hear this that he even turns around to face Screwllum, who has already folded his hands behind his back.
And what about the human lovers who were being gossiped about? Ratio himself doesn't know why, but he has already become convinced of their existence.
Are humans really that tasteless?!
"A genius, a monarch, and a philanthropist," Ratio lists with expression, narrowing his eyes behind his mask, and asks sarcastically: "why does that seem unlikely?"
"I've been proposed. But the interest was far from being mutual,” Screwllum explains, and although his words are chosen diplomatically, Ratio hears a note of disdain in his tone. Oddly, it has a calming effect on him. “Besides, you are a very distinguished figure yourself. I was extremely surprised when I did my homework to make sure there were no competitors.”
Ratio laughs.
So Screwllum planned this attack, stalked him. Maybe even started monitoring his fan communities, just like he himself did?
They really do have the same bad habits.
“Mr. Ratio, you’ve had some time to think, and I’m sure you’ve made use of it. Please tell me: would you like to grant me the privilege of exploring interpersonal intimacy with you?”
The weight of this address is positively monstrous, and Ratio without second thought places one hand on his hip and the other on his forehead. He wants to sound stern and mentor-like as he answers, but to his shame and irritation, he hears that not only does a trembling exhale escape him, but his voice also sounds high-pitched and almost frightened.
"Don't talk about this adventure as if the all-seeing, all-knowing eye is about to give you THEIR second blessing".
"This comparison could benefit from some refinement, since I didn't even want the first one."
"But you want this?" Ratio gestures from Screwllum to himself and back.
"Affirmative."
Sigh.
"In that case, we'll both have something to thoroughly think about during our time apart."
"I have one request of you before you leave."
"I'm listening."
"May I hold your hand before you go?" Pause. "You don't have to take off your mask. I won't be offended."
Ratio can't respond with a comment. For the first three seconds, he can't even move, and a vacuum of thoughtlessness forms in his head. It's plainly ridiculous from the outside, and he himself recognizes it.
He nods out of pure stubbornness of a player who is not used to passing. And yet, when Screwllum approaches him, he half-turns to the window. But he does not cross his arms over his chest either.
Screwllum implicitly warns him of his intention with a particularly soft-sounding "thank you," and Ratio lets out a vague "hmm." He closes his eyes under his mask as Screwllum smoothly takes his hand and wraps his fingers in his own. And after a few moments, he begins to slowly and lightly stroke their knuckles with his thumb.
It's a completely innocent gesture. There are few things more innocent than that.
But Ratio, holding his breath, feels infinite gratitude to the mask that has never saved his face so much before: that very face is burning under it, and his neck too. Even his ears are ablaze like the Ever-Flame Mansion of Duke Inferno. And that means that his exposed chest in the cutout is about to redden as well.
Damn it, Screwllum must not see this. Anything but this.
But in his position, Ratio is constrained in his choice of actions. Therefore, in the next seconds, Mechanical Aristocrat makes a soft, abrupt sound of surprise, suddenly finding himself embraced.
"You..."
"You yourself said earlier that it is impossible to say how much time will pass before our next meeting," Ratio interrupts with emphasis. "Consider this an advance."
"Alright."
Ratio keeps some albeit small distance between their bodies, but even so he can tell that Mechanical Aristocrat's body feels much lighter than he would have expected. But it's also solid and reliable. Screwllumites have an exceptionally elegant design, indeed. Although it may be a consequence of Screwllum's own personal modifications. And he's surprised to notice that, contrary to his expectations, his heart is starting to calm down in their current position.
Ratio is distracted from his rationalizations when, a few seconds later, Screwllum carefully moves his arms to hug him back, eventually placing one of his hands onto his left shoulder blade. And Ratio can't be sure what causes his goose bumps then, since at that same moment Screwllum also decides to address him, and does so with a resolute, heartfelt, personal quality that no one has ever employed when addressing him before.
"Veritas Ratio."
"What?" Ratio responds, monosyllabically, but softly.
"I am very glad that I found you in this unimaginably vast universe."