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1.
“So uh… can you control the animals, then?” Bob asked. It was the first time he and Compton found themselves on their own in the Gulch, and he figured he might as well ask.
“What? No! I can’t control them, any more than I can control people. I can converse with them, sure. It took a lot of work to get my negotiation skills to where they are today. Why, are you telling me you control the plants?”
“Well, it depends on the plant, but it’s sort of the opposite? They... reflect me, what I’m thinking and feeling. Some days it feels like I’ve got no control over it at all.” Bob paused. “Don’t tell the others that, though. Got a reputation to maintain.”
“Yes, I understand.” Compton laughed wryly. He could certainly relate to wanting to look good in front of the others. But Bob had been very nice to him so far, regardless of how awkward they both were. So Compton took a chance. “Does it ever get… overwhelming?”
Bob gave him a knowing look. “The constant background noise, you mean?” Living in the Green Needle Gulch had its pros and cons for both of them. The effects of the psitanium on local wildlife was fascinating to study, but sometimes challenging for one’s mental health.
“Yes.” Compton didn’t elaborate.
“God, no. It’s been there all my life. The plants are there for me. People, on the other hand…” he trailed off.
Compton thought about his new friends here, and how much he’d come to rely on them, and how much he’d come to enjoy their company. “Have you seen what Otto’s been working on recently?” For me , he didn’t say.
“Some sort of… isolation chamber, huh? Yeah, I do not need help with that.” Bob made a joke at his own expense, but backtracked once he saw Compton look away nervously. “I mean… if it works for you, though, that’s great!”
“I just… need a place that’s quiet sometimes. Need to take one thing at a time, you know?”
“Funny, if it does get too much, I usually try to drown it out with music. Or… other things.” Bob realized he was sharing rather a lot about himself, but his curiosity got the better of him. It’d been a long time since he’d been around someone with psychic abilities remotely similar to his own. And besides, the spirit of exploring new horizons out here in the Gulch had become infectious, no matter how much Bob had resisted at first. It was Ford’s psychic charisma at work, he was sure.
Compton perked up. “Oh! Well, I do like to cook… I’ve been experimenting with new flavors recently.”
Bob stared at him. “You eat meat, don’t you? Doesn’t it get weird?”
“Don’t make me think about it!” Compton exclaimed. “And also, you eat plants! What are we supposed to do?”
“Ahaha, yeah… some weird powers we got, huh? No logic at all.” Bob muttered. “I can’t hear mushrooms,” he offered up, “can you?”
“...No.” Compton admitted.
“All right then. You want to cook together sometime?”
And Compton accepted the olive branch for what it was.
2.
The ground shook. Distant explosions and a rumbling like thunder echoed across the Gulch and beyond. That was all the warning Compton got before animals started fleeing en masse.
This is bad, very bad, not again― was all Compton could think as he blinked up at the dust cloud in the sky. He’d been feeling overwhelmed in the Motherlobe and came out to the Gulch to take a break. The others were all back inside― except― Bob.
He tried to separate his own feelings of anxiety from those of the sprinting deer and bleating goats around him. He briefly thought about going to get the others for help, but one look at the giant, spiked vines newly splitting the earth and the sky in two had him running on instinct. What was going on up there?
Rounding the Heptadome, Compton stared at the jagged shoreline where the entrance to Bob’s greenhouse used to be, right across from his own menagerie. It had been a comfortable distance, once, allowing both of them their space while still providing the opportunity to greet each other in passing (and to play friendly pranks on Otto, who had no choice but to traverse their area in order to get to his own lab). Now Bob was pushing everything away, repelling the water itself.
Compton was deeply afraid of what he might find up at the top of the tower of thorns. But he had never been able to stand down when anyone was so clearly crying out for help. He made a move in the general direction of the path, only to be knocked down by a small explosion.
Maybe he and Bob had even more in common than they’d thought.
An even greater sense of dread flooded through him as Compton picked himself up off the ground, but he realized that he wasn’t actually hurt all that much. It had been just enough force to put him off his path. And that gave him hope that maybe it wasn’t as bad as he feared.
How could he get up there to find out, though? The path, newly crumbling, was riddled with more of the flame-red flowers and tangled thorns. A goat could probably get up there, no problem… you can’t ride a goat, Compton! He squeezed his eyes shut. Where was a brainstorm when he needed it? Oh yes. You can teleport, remember?
He had the feeling if he tried to go outside the door, he’d get knocked down just the same. Best to go straight inside. It wasn’t a power he used that often, honestly, but the ground was still shaking and time was of the essence. He tried to tune out the increasingly-anguished psychic background noise rattling through all the living things in the Gulch.
Compton took a deep breath, like he’d been practicing with Cassie, and opened his eyes to see Bob on his knees, surrounded by broken glass and twisted vines. The amount of power in the air was immense; the vibrations alone almost knocked Compton to his feet all over again. It was difficult to tell what he was perceiving with his ears and what he was picking up with his brain, let alone where Bob ended and the plants began.
“Bob!”
Nothing. At least, Bob showed no outward signs of having noticed him. Music, he told me that once, he likes music, right? Compton fought with his own panic again. I don’t have any, I’m not H… him, none of us are and that’s the problem. What can I do?
A desperate thought came to him, and he did the only thing he could think of. Please work, he pleaded, and please forgive me for this, Bob. With shaking hands, Compton reached up to grip his own bowler hat. Before he could talk himself out of it, he took it off and tossed it at Bob’s head with the aid of a little telekinesis.
The world shifted immediately and Compton felt dizzy with it. He focused very hard on not throwing up. Bob’s eyes flashed open, but he still said nothing. At least, out loud.
“LEAVE ME ALONE!”
Compton clapped his hands over his ears. It didn’t help. “Don’t do this! Bob, you know this won’t work ― ” He tried to move forward, but even more vines got in the way. “Bob, you have the entire population of flora and fauna worried for you ―” an explosion from somewhere outside rattled the glass yet again. “Bob, you’re scaring me!”
That did it. Bob’s eyes widened, and Compton could hear his voice again, smaller this time. It was still surreal to hear it echoing around him from all sides without being able to see his mouth moving. Nothing like telepathy, really, this was a different wavelength altogether. If anything, Compton was distinctly reminded of negotiating with a Psi-Bear.
“I-I don’t want to hurt anybody!” Except yourself, Compton thought. “I just want to be LEFT ALONE!”
It wasn’t Bob saying it. Compton had never been able to hear the plants before, and now he really wished he couldn’t.
“Please… I …” This was really quite out of Compton’s depth. God, he wanted to be left alone, too. “At least check in with us, when you’re ready? Let us know you’re… ” All right didn’t seem appropriate. Neither did alive, but Bob seemed to pick up on it anyway.
“I’m sure you’ll be able to tell.” Bob laughed darkly, taking a swig from the flask in his vest pocket and gesturing vaguely at everything around them. “I didn’t mean for… well… anyway, you’ll be needing this back.” He took Compton’s hat off and Compton did his best not to flinch and brace for impact.
After a moment's pause, Compton carefully grabbed the offered hat and put it back on. “I wish I knew what to do.”
Bob said nothing, and Compton let himself be ushered out and gently lowered back to ground level by the vines.
What are we supposed to do? None of them had any idea at all.
3.
“Helmut is encouraging me to reintegrate with society.”
Compton heard the implied “and you’re a good first step,” but decided to take it as a compliment. “And where is that husband of yours?” Shouldn’t he be the one doing that?
Bob gestured across the clearing to the rough bleachers in front of Helmut’s old theater, where Cassie and Helmut could be seen animatedly waving their hands at each other. The soft, quiet, content smile that lit Bob’s face made him look years younger.
“Well, then.” Compton cleared his throat. “Welcome back, Bob.”
“I, uh, hear it’s been a while for you, too.” This conversation felt about as awkward as when they had first met.
“Yes.” Compton didn’t elaborate.
“I never did say sorry, for everything. I’m sorry for adversely affecting this very weird ecosystem we live in, that must’ve been hell. I know you know I didn’t mean it ― ” he continued, before Compton could interrupt, “but still, I’m sorry, for scaring you like that. You know better than anybody else, how the voices can get to you, make you… explode. So, thank you. For trying so hard with me.” Bob finished sincerely.
Compton opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “You’re welcome.” He managed. He wished he could think of something else to say. Maybe it would be enough for them to sit together in companionable silence, like they used to. Readjusting, and all that.
“I thought of something I could do to show you… I heard you and Cassie are thinking of turning all this honey into a business, and I thought, well…” Bob huffed a laugh. “I’m not going to be distilling alcohol anymore, so mead is out of the question. But I could, um, grow different kinds of wildflowers, maybe? I heard that it makes the honey taste different, you know? We could try it out, sounds kinda fun, if you want...”
“That sounds wonderful!” Compton exclaimed. “Oh, I bet the bees would be excited to help us out, too…” He called one over, in his enthusiasm. “Any ideas for flowers you’d like to try?” Compton asked the gently buzzing bee.
“He says ― ” Compton laughed. “Well, maybe this wouldn’t be the first one we do, but ― ”
“Poison oak?” Bob said, with wonder. “Compton, I heard that!”
“Really?” Compton was just as surprised. He chose not to mention his brief foray into herbaphony years earlier. They were moving forward, together. “Well, some powers we’ve got, eh? That’s new.”
“Maybe the psitanium is finally getting to me.” Bob shrugged.
“Or maybe you’ve finally accepted our mutual dependence on each other.” Compton gestured vaguely at everything around them.
“Yeah. That too.”