Worlds Apart Pt. 02

"It's okay, Hazel," Jamie said in the most reassuring tone possible. "Look, Sammy has a book. You like your books, don't you?"

She nodded, keeping a tight hold on his pants.

"It's okay, sweetie," the woman chimed.

Sammy was remarkably perceptive for his age, soon picking up on Hazel's insecurity. He turned his book to show her the pictures on the thick, child-friendly pages, images of cartoon dinosaurs rampaging across a pastel backdrop.

"This one is called, um...a triceratops," Sammy said as he pointed to one of the pictures. "I know all of the dinosaurs, pretty much. You want to see?"

Hazel glanced up at Jamie for reassurance, then let go of his leg, taking a few tentative steps closer. She hovered around the boy for a moment, peering over his shoulder as he flipped through the pages of his book, then settled in beside him. Jamie considered asking Sammy to read to her, but he was likely too young to do much more than look at the illustrations.

"Progress," Jamie whispered, Sammy's mother giving him a smile.

***

While the kids played, the parents chatted. Jamie was starting to realize that as much as the playgroup was benefiting the children socially, it was doing the same for him and Liz. Ever since they were children, their circle of friends had been small. Growing up, it had very much been Jamie and Liz against the world, the two of them preferring one another's company. The bullying had been much less pronounced in high school and college, but neither of them had ever forged any strong friendships, only making the acquaintance of their classmates out of convenience. Jamie still remembered the disastrous house party he had attended shortly after Liz's departure, and how it had taught him the fickle nature of such relationships. He hadn't kept in touch with anyone from his school days, and the only people he continued to see regularly were his old coworkers from the supermarket.

Liz hadn't fared much better. Even if she'd been able to make any firm friends on Earth, she would have been torn away from them when her parents had suddenly taken her back to the homeworld. From what she had told him, she had been very close with her extended family back on Borealis, and she had formed a pack with half a dozen members who were unquestioningly loyal to her. Curiously, she didn't talk about them all that much, and they had made no effort to contact her as far as he knew. Still, they were more than seventy light-years away, completely out of reach. For the six months or so between her return and their trip to Jarilo, he and Liz had been content to be alone together, and she didn't seem very close with her fellow embassy workers.

Now, they were faced with an entirely new social group who all shared something in common. They were all here for the same reason. There was no need for awkward small talk, no need to come up with excuses to spend time together. If everything went well, Jamie and Liz would be coming here regularly, so it was a great opportunity to make some connections.

Schooling was a topic of conversation that came up a lot. Many of the parents had older children, and they were able to give Liz and Jamie some advice on where to enroll their kids when the time came. Since many of the children in the playgroup were of similar ages, it was likely that the kittens would be able to start out with a small group of friends when they began preschool, which was ideal. Hazel and Sammy especially seemed to be getting along marvelously. They hadn't budged since they had been introduced, still poring over their picture books an hour later.

It began to grow late, Liz and Jamie saying their goodbyes to the remaining parents as they set out to corral the kittens. Save for an incident involving a pulled tail that had resulted in a few tears, the kids had all behaved themselves, and the organizer had invited them back for another play date the following week.

Most of the kittens came when they were called, except for Ken and Hazel. They eventually found Ken hiding out in one of the playhouses with a co-conspirator, and Hazel was still sitting with Sammy, ignoring their summons.

"Thanks for looking after her, Sammy," Jamie said as he lifted the grumbling kitten off the carpet.

"That's okay," Sammy replied, giving his new friend a wave. "Bye, Hazel."

"Hazel, it's time to go home," Jamie explained. "Don't worry, you can see Sammy again next week."

"Don't wanna go home," she replied tearfully, pouting at him.

"Don't you want to see Smoke?" Jamie asked. "She'll be getting lonely by now."

"I guess so," she said, wiping her eyes. She turned to Sammy again, giving him a sullen wave goodbye with her furry little hand. Jamie slotted her into the pouch on his carrier, then did the same with Ken, Liz loading up with the other three before the pair made their way to the exit.

***

They were greeted by Smoke at the door, the cat meowing loudly as she brushed up against their legs, Jamie having to step over her on his way into the apartment. The kittens were tired out from their adventure, and Jamie wasn't faring much better. It had been an eventful day, and he was ready to put the kids to bed.

"It's alright, Ken," Jamie sighed as the kitten cried.

"He's been upset the whole ride back," Liz said. "First, they didn't want to go to playgroup, now they don't want to leave."

"He's probably just cranky," Jamie replied, lifting the kitten out of his pouch. "This wouldn't be the first time one of them has thrown a tantrum because they're tired."

When he set Ken on the floor, the boy turned around to face him, his furry cheeks matted with tears. He said something incoherent between his sobbing, Jamie cocking his head.

"Hang on," he said, putting Hazel down on the carpet. "Where's Ken's spoon?"

"His spoon?" Liz asked, her brow furrowing. "I didn't even notice that it was missing. Crap, did he leave it in the taxi?"

"No, no," Jamie mused as he wracked his brain. "I don't think he had it when we fished him out of the playhouse."

"God damn it," Liz sighed, shaking her head in exasperation as she unloaded her cargo of struggling kittens. "Maybe he lost it at playgroup."

"Did you lose your spoon, bud?" Jamie asked as he crouched to rub the miserable child's head. "Do you remember where you last saw it?"

"I lost it!" he wailed, sitting down on the spot dejectedly.

Liz went to fetch him another toy, trying to placate him with one of the stuffed animals that Hazel hadn't savaged yet. He batted it out of her hand, crossing his arms stubbornly as he bawled. The other kittens came over to see what all the fuss was about, but their clumsy attempts to calm him fared no better. Liz eventually scooped him up in her arms, rocking him gently as he cried it out.

"I don't know what he sees in that chewed up old spoon anyhow," she muttered, Ken finally running out of steam. His loud cries turned to quiet sniffling, his mother's cuddling soothing him somewhat. "He's got an apartment full of toys, but he carries that thing around like it's his most prized possession."

"I gotta go back for it," Jamie said, Liz raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"It's a fifteen-minute drive, and the community center will probably be closed by now. You'll have to go down there tomorrow. Ken can live without his spoon for one night," she added with a shrug. "Who knows, maybe he'll finally forget about that thing before he finishes eating it. I don't want to have to tell our new friends that our son consumed an entire wooden spoon over the period of a year."

"Come on, I don't think I've ever seen him this upset," Jamie replied as he gestured to the kitten. "Not even that time Smoke ate his cheese. Besides, if a janitor finds it, they're not going to know that it's a toy. They're more likely to toss it into the trash than the lost and found bin. I'll be back in forty minutes tops." He reached up to give Ken's head a pat, the kitten rubbing his eyes. "Daddy's gonna go get your spoon, Ken."

"Look at you, being all dad mode," Liz purred as he threw on his jacket. "Don't worry, Ken. Your dad is on a mission."

***

Jamie hopped out of the taxi, jogging up to the door of the community center just in time to see someone locking it. It was an older gentleman with a weathered face and streaks of gray in his beard, dressed in blue coveralls. He turned to glance at Jamie as he approached, waiting for him to explain himself.

"Are you locking up?" Jamie asked, catching his breath.

"Yeah, the center closes at seven," the man replied. "What's got you in such a hurry?"

"My family and I were at the playgroup meeting, but my kid left something behind," he explained. "It's his favorite toy. He won't sleep without it."

"Don't worry, if you left something in the building, it'll probably find its way to the lost and found bin eventually."

"Listen, my kid is going to be bawling all night," Jamie continued. "Do you think you could open up again, just for a few minutes? You'd be doing me a huge favor."

The man considered for a moment, then fished in his pocket for a keycard, holding it up against a scanner that was embedded in the door frame.

"Alright," he replied, the door sliding open. "Don't take too long, now. We all got places to be. If you're looking for the lost and found, it's behind the front desk."

"Thanks a million," Jamie replied, hurrying inside. He dipped behind the empty desk, taking a moment to locate the bin. It was a small wicker basket sat on a shelf. He pulled it out and set it on the desk beside the computer terminal, digging around inside it. There was a child's shoe, someone's phone, and a bunch of other random items that people had left behind. No spoon handle, though.

He made his way down the corridor and into the playroom, finding that the door was mercifully unlocked. The last thing he wanted to do was further involve the poor janitor in his search. All of the toys had been cleared away, and the foam shapes had been pushed up against the walls, probably to clear the carpet ready for cleaning. He eyed a dozen toy chests, cursing under his breath. If the room had already been cleaned, Ken's spoon handle could be in any of these, or none of them.

"Think, Jamie," he grumbled to himself. "When did you last see Ken with the spoon?"

He glanced at one of the playhouses, remembering that the kitten had been hiding out in it. After making his way over and glancing through one of the tiny windows, he saw that it was empty. He checked a couple of others, but found nothing. There was no way he was going to have time to turn out every toy chest and sift through everything. It might be worth checking the garbage first, but he had no idea where it was.

As he scanned the room, he focused his gaze on the ball pit. That had been the last time he had seen Ken with his spoon in hand. Sighing to himself, he made his way over, displacing the plastic balls as he stepped inside. They were deep enough to reach his knees, which was probably high enough to submerge most toddlers up to their waists. He began to sift through the balls, probing blindly, feeling the padded floor at the bottom. Dozens of children had been playing in there throughout the day, and he had to hope that a spoon handle was the only thing he was going to find.

After maybe five minutes of digging through plastic balls, his fingers touched something firm, and he pulled out his hand to see Ken's chewed-up spoon handle. He pumped his fist, hissing a quiet yes, only to hear someone clear their throat.

He turned his head to see the janitor standing by the door, watching as a grown man waded around in a children's ball pit, brandishing the handle of a wooden spoon like he had just pulled Excalibur from its stone.

"Find what you were looking for?" he asked.

"Y-yeah, thanks," Jamie replied sheepishly.

***

"Did you manage to find it?" Liz asked as Jamie stepped through the door to their apartment. He hung up his jacket, then produced the spoon handle, twirling it between his fingers. The kittens came running, as they always did when one of their parents came home, Ken's eyes lighting up when he saw his prized possession. He extended his hands excitedly, Jamie passing the chewed-up handle to him. He hugged it against his chest as though it were a teddy bear, his woes forgotten.

"There you go, buddy," Jamie said as he reached down to pat his head. "Try not to lose it next time, alright?"

"How did you get back inside?" Liz marveled. "I thought they would have been closed by now."

"They were," he replied, making his way over to the couch to join her as the kittens followed along like furry ducklings. "I got there just as the janitor was locking up. Luckily, he let me go back inside to look for Ken's spoon. Well, I didn't tell him it was a spoon."

"You did good," Liz chuckled, giving him a nudge as he sat down beside her. "That filthy old spoon means so much to Ken. He's gonna have to give it up eventually. He won't be able to take it to school with him, but that's a problem for another day."

"That, or he'll finish eating it first," Jamie replied.

"I told you a few months back that I thought being a parent was your calling," she continued, her tone becoming somewhat more serious. "I wasn't joking, you know. You just spent a good hour driving halfway across town to go find a lost toy."

"I couldn't stand to see Ken so upset," he replied with a dismissive shrug.

"Yeah, that's the thing," she chuckled. "Most people wouldn't have bothered, or they would just have waited and gone down to pick it up the next day. That's what I was going to do. But you're like...compelled to look after them, and you don't seem able to think about anything else until the problem is solved. I guess what I'm saying is...I'm glad I chose you to sire our kittens. You've never let me down in all the years I've known you. You've been my rock when everything else in my life was up in the air."

"I've only ever done what I thought was right," he replied. Liz smiled, reaching over to ruffle his hair.

"Yeah, I know."

They were distracted by the sound of scratching claws, Jamie glancing down to see that Hazel was climbing her way up onto the couch. She planted herself firmly in his lap, opening her mouth wide in a yawn.

"I want a story," she mumbled, rubbing her eye.

"Oh yeah? Which one?" Jamie asked.

"Smoke says she wants to hear a dinosaur story," she replied.

"Oh, Smoke said that?" Jamie asked, playing along. "Well, I guess we'd better find Smoke a dinosaur story to read."

"A dinosaur princess," the kitten insisted.

"That's...going to be a little harder, but daddy will see what he can do."

"The kids are tired, let's put them to bed early," Liz said as she lowered her voice to a whisper. "I think you've earned a reward for your spoon-related heroism. Possibly one that involves head."

***

"It tastes bad!" Toza wailed, kicking his feet as a UAS scientist wearing a white uniform tried to hold him still. Jamie reached down, fishing the half-dissolved pill from the carpet, handing it back to the man.

"I know it doesn't taste good, Toz," he replied. "But the nice doctors are here to give you some medicine. You won't be able to run around and play anymore if you don't take it."

"Maybe we can find another way to administer the drug," the doctor grumbled. "Usually, we could improve the taste with a sugary casing, but Borealans aren't sensitive to sweet flavors."

Jamie glanced over at the other kittens. They were clinging to their mother on the couch nearby, watching the two white-clad doctors warily. One of them tried to administer the pill to Toza again, but the kitten hissed at him, his ears flat against his head.

"Hey," Jamie said sternly, getting the boy's attention. "We do not hiss at people, Toza."

"Maybe we should just let the parents administer the dose," one of the doctors said to the other.

"Hang on, I have an idea," Liz said. She struggled free of the pile of frightened kittens, then made her way over to the fridge, their little ears pricking up when they heard the sound of foil. She returned with a cheese wedge in hand, Toza ceasing his struggling as his eyes followed it. "Alright, kiddo. Be a good boy, and you'll get some cheese."

Toza glanced between the doctors and the cheese, the gears in his little head turning. After a moment, he relaxed, opening his mouth obediently. The doctor placed the pill at the back of his throat, withdrawing his gloved finger quickly, not wanting to get bitten. Toza grimaced as he swallowed, then extended his barbed tongue in displeasure. His discomfort was quickly forgotten when his mother handed him the wedge, the kitten waddling off happily once the doctor had released him.

"That's one down," the man said, glancing at the other kittens. "They'll need to take this medication regularly to improve their bone density now that they're old enough. The body adapts to whatever environment it finds itself in, and much of what dictates how bones develop comes down to simple physics. Without the stress of Borealan gravity, they may grow abnormally, which is what these meds are designed to prevent. They trick the body into thinking it's under more strain than it really is, and they stimulate the release of related hormones."

"Without it, they might end up like the first generation of Martian colonists," the other doctor added. "Not even able to stand on their home planet unaided."

"Are they the same as the ones I take?" Liz asked.

"Similar," he replied. "The basic principles are the same, but we had to tweak the dosage and make some changes to the recipe to account for early development. We're going to monitor them closely, but we don't foresee any issues."

"What about a gravity chamber?" Jamie asked. "It was something that we considered early on. We can't install an AG field in our apartment, obviously, but would it do the kids any good to spend some time in higher gravity? I know that some gyms have them installed in their cardio rooms."

"They'll need to keep to a strict exercise regimen if they want to gain the muscle mass that they would have living on Borealis," the other doctor replied. "That's probably something you'll want to tackle when they're a little older, though. It's not essential for their healthy growth, but in cases like this, the closer you can replicate their natural environment, the better."

"I think we can handle the rest," Jamie said. The doctors seemed relieved, Jamie and Liz thanking them as they saw the men out.

"It feels weird, having to medicate the kids," he said once the doctors had left. "They're so young."

"At least this way, we know that they'll be healthy," Liz replied. "When they reach the right age, they can decide if they want to start a workout regimen or not. Even without it, they're going to end up stronger than the average human. I was when I was a teenager."

"Oh, I remember," Jamie chuckled.

CHAPTER 15: STABILITY

The kittens' first ride in a mag-lev train had been an eventful one. At two years old, the children were nearing the size where they couldn't be carried around in their pouches anymore, but there was still a little time left before Jamie and Liz would be chasing them around on public transportation. Their little eyes had been wide with wonder as they watched the towering glass spires of the city flash past beyond the windows, the mile-high edifices joined by a network of walkways hundreds of feet above street level, the magnetic rails that carried the trains back and forth weaving between them like vines through a steel jungle.

When they arrived at their stop, they took an elevator down to the ground floor, emerging into the crumbling brickwork of the Old Town. This area of the city had been abandoned to the ocean hundreds of years prior, when an environmental calamity had caused the sea level to rise, submerging much of what had once been a thriving metropolis.