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The campsite was modest, tucked just inside a structure that held a great many metal transport vehicles; the mashina or avtomobil' was well-documented as being vital to the beings of this world. The ground, indeed the entire structure, was made of “artificial stone," although whether it was seh-mehnt, or konkretnyy, or something else, there was no easy way of telling. The substance was hard and unnatural-feeling, but the mats that they had placed helped take away some of the discomfort to the hindpaw pads, and the camp cots were comfortable enough to sit and sleep upon. Weather was mild, with the occasional breeze blowing into the structure through large open spaces between the levels; precipitation was likely that night, but the structure was solid and, judging by small runnels of dirt and dust that showed where water had previously run, not prone to flooding.

Light from outside had not yet faded, although the interior of this structure didn't let too much of it in. The crowded spaces of this sitty made the sun's light difficult to find unless it was reflected off of other structures. Devices that seemed designed for producing artificial light outdoors were everywhere, although there was no power source for them anymore. The casings of the portable lanterns were designed such that, by rearranging the them slightly, they provided not a beam but a warm glow that radiated 360° around them, and reflective panels above helped to cast light below as well. Propping them up on poles designed for the purpose created overlapping pools of light, making a snug oasis for the explorers.

Reggie didn't feel “snug."

Together, Dr. Blue Sky and Reggie saw to getting the site ready for the evening. The numbat had helped to get the lanterns into position, to get the collapsable table and two chairs ready for the evening meal, and the two of them performed a check of the camp perimeter and various sensors and monitors, all with an efficient and respectful silence. The student's mind was disordered, uncertain, and he wasn't even sure that he could form a coherent sentence. There was some comfort in doing routine things, especially as his goal was to be mindful, attentive of his actions. Not only was it good to develop such habits when on an expedition, it was also a good way to avoid dwelling on whatever it was that his mentor was going to talk with him about.

By the time the night had descended on the sitty, the old mountain lion had gotten the camp's stove working, heating up some rations of stew while also bringing out some crisps and a container of fermented juice. Bringing anything intoxicating on an archeological expedition was only a minor taboo; like everything else, the concern was not use but abuse. When they had returned to the camp, the professor had given 30ml of the liquid to his student, to help calm him. Now, each had a modest amount in suitable containers, set on the table, awaiting the rest of the meal.

Sitting in his camp chair, across the table from the young numbat, the mountain lion regarded him softly, sympathetically. “I will not play the fool and ask if you are all right, Reginald," he said softly. “Are you feeling safe enough for me to talk to you further about this world?"

The phrasing caught the student by surprise. Why should he not feel safe?

With the most tender expression on his face, the professor nodded slowly. “The question is there on your face, my young friend. I said it that way on purpose. We should be physically safe enough here; there are no surviving beings here, no leh-oo-dyeh, if my accent is right. It is possible that some survived, somewhere, but there are no traces of them in this sitty. There is no trace of other fauna here, and the perimeter alarms will let us know if I'm wrong about that. The air is clean, the temperature moderate, and there are blankets if you feel cold. We have food and safe water, and Transport is available almost immediately, especially if there is an emergency. In every physical sense of the word, we are both entirely 'safe'." He paused before adding, “It's your emotions I'm concerned with."

“I'm fine," Reggie said, too quickly. He looked away from the professor's eyes, embarrassed by the response. Forcing himself to take a deep breath, letting it out slowly, he managed at last to look up again. “More like I'm trying to believe I'm fine."

Another nod from the mountain lion. “Do you feel strong enough to hear the story, or would you like to wait for tomorrow?"

The younger male managed a hollow-sounding chuckle. “I'm not sure I could stand the suspense."

“Fair enough," the cat grinned jovially before his expression dimmed somewhat. “The stew will be ready in a few minutes, and the shortest version of this world's story might bring the least pain.

“Generally, it is agreed that the bipedal beings of this world evolved from certain animals which already had articulated forepaws," he wiggled his own for a moment, “err-ROH-key-ah, that they learned to use, to make and construct things. There are many arguments concerning how they grew into beings that could create full languages, build structures like this; there is agreement that this growth led them to believe themselves superior to all other forms of fauna, to the point that they called themselves leh-oo-dyeh, and all others zhiv-OHT-nee-ya, as if they were lesser creatures to be ruled over, tamed, killed, even killed on a whim, dlya sporta, without regard to the natural ecosystems or the simple expedience of letting life be life.

“Not all were like that, of course. Look at the depictions, particularly the pigment-based works. I have heard music on recordings, some of it terrible, some inspiring, but always expressive. There were beings here who understood beauty, the vitality of what is natural, the sense of what some would call the Ways of Life. We have found evidence that there was joy here."

“What happened?"

“Lusts for power, for ownership of things, control of things…" A defeated shrug. “Ultimately, some few of the leh-oo-dyeh believed themselves superior to so many others of their own kind. They treated so many the same way that they treated the zhiv-OHT-nee-ya, as lesser creatures, imperfect, not worthy in their beliefs, their ways, even their expressions of those beliefs. There came a time of absolute imbalance, whether of wealth, necessities, common good, or common sense. Ultimately, select groups of these beings believed that other select groups were trying to take or control what they wanted to take or control for themselves. It is very likely that most of the beings of this world wanted no part of that horror, but they were made silent and powerless."

The professor closed his eyes for a moment before continuing. “There are several theories as to precisely what happened. The prevailing one — the one that makes the most sense to me, given what research I have conducted — is that these groups each thought that their own beings, and the beings that they controlled, were the only beings that should be allowed to survive. More, they were convinced that every other group would wage destruction upon them in order to secure the 'incorrect' control. They found a means to use radiation to disrupt the cellular structure of all fauna within the effective radius of the device. The type of radiation does not linger, and it destroys all flesh, bone, everything, leaving all of the structures intact. Everything that wasn't flora would be evaporated, and even some of that was affected. All that was living, even inside these structures… gone. That is why the remains that we found were such a surprise."

Maw hanging open, Reggie finally managed to croak, “They deliberately destroyed themselves?"

“They destroyed each other. Each group thought that they would find a way to survive… or at least, those who 'mattered' would survive. From what we've been able to piece together, that seems to have been the thinking… or the lack of it. You see, after the devices were set off, the weapons worked more efficiently than their records show that they had predicted. Every major sitty, nearly every populated area beyond them, was stripped of all flesh-based creatures. The range of the devices' effectiveness was also underestimated; instead of 15-20km, it spread as much as twice, sometimes three times that. Even those who were in supposedly protective bunkers or safe areas were affected.

“Mind you, my friend, I don't understand the physics of such things, so I can neither confirm nor question that data from any personal knowledge. It's just the prevailing theory, given what various expeditions have found. A number of the linguists have found discussions of such weapons in various sources, whether printed or recordings. Remember, this world has been under study for only a few years. This sitty is so large that plant life has not yet encroached from the outer boundaries. Some fauna still exists in areas that are several hundred kilometers from here; they weren't in range to be affected by the devices."

Reggie squirmed at the ideas. It seemed so impossible, so inconceivable that any thinking beings could imagine such horror, could actively bring it about, could want to make it happen. Perhaps the professor had not been speaking metaphorically when he said that these beings weren't natural or, at the least, that they did not follow the paths that Nature showed. Some did, had to have done, or the beauty that he had seen, even here, could not exist. The colored glass of the ceremonial structure alone showed that some of these beings could conceive of beauty…

He shivered again at the memory the grisly figure on the wall of that structure, unable to reconcile the ideas.

The numbat started at the gentle touch of the mountain lion's forepaw to his shoulder. “The stew will be warm by now."

Nodding, Reggie murmured his thanks and tried not to succumb to his brooding again. He couldn't quite bring his Reginald-self forward, although he wanted to. It was like a cloak for him, a character he could play. It was comforting to be calm and intellectual in the midst of the over-competitiveness that seemed a staple of graduate life. Reggie would have liked to have more time to relax, play, be friendly and joking with some of his fellow students. Reginald knew that being attentive to study and disciplined in his efforts would benefit him in his career choice. It was Reginald more than Reggie who had gotten this chance to visit on-world, and “they both" knew it. The mental shifting of gears was conscious and deliberate. It just wasn't always done so easily in the face of so much… well, crazy thinking.

“Here we are, then."

A bowl of warm stew, aromatic, welcome, appeared before the young student. He again thanked his mentor, rearranged himself into something less resembling a clump of distressed fur, and took in a deep sniff over the bowl. He looked up at Dr. Blue Sky's soft chuckle.

“I am always happy to hear your approval of my cooking. I'm never sure of its quality, myself."

Reggie smiled in return, and he was able to feel the positive emotion that inspired it. He remained nervous, uncertain, but he wanted to reconnect to his mentor, whether because of or in spite of the horror of the story he had just heard. Responding to the silent jut of the mountain lion's chin, the numbat took his first taste of the stew, letting the familiar spices give him more comfort. He saw that the professor had also begun eating, sampling some crisps (these baked cubes had been formed from both dark and light bread and made savory with herbs that complimented the stew very well), even taking a sip or two from his container of vino (as the base language, and many other languages of this world as well, called it). Slowly, his appetite returned, and with it… He remembered his mentor's words from other shared meals and spoke them.

“With food comes warmth; with warmth comes hope; and with hope, all things are possible."

The mountain lion bowed his head briefly in gratitude. “It is always good to remember that, to be reminded of it. Thank you, Reginald. How are you feeling now?"

“Happy for the stew." His short laugh held a touch of hysteria, and he cut it off quickly. Setting down his spoon for a moment, the numbat closed his eyes, placed both forepaws on the table, and focused on his breathing for perhaps half a minute. When he opened his eyes again, he saw the professor waiting patiently, giving the young student time and space for his calming ritual. Reggie managed a soft smile and a softer voice when he said, “I guess that answers the question."

“How may I help you?"

Taking one more slow breath, Reggie reached inside himself to find an appropriate answer, which he set aside for the right answer, which Reginald carefully set aside, bringing out the true answer. “You said earlier, back at the ceremonial structure, that you wanted to tell me who I am. What did you mean?"

After a moment's hesitation, the old mountain lion said, “You are Reginald Brandon Waggoner, and you are everything you know about yourself. You are also what you don't know about yourself." Holding up a forestalling a forestalling forepaw, he continued. “Perhaps that isn't true; you may know it and simply prefer to hide it. Reginald, you have shown signs of being a touch-knower."

Reggie would have blinked; the cloak that was Reginald, the character that the numbat was playing to help calm himself, still registered a brief coming together of the eyebrows. “I would not have thought you interested in superstition, Professor."

Contrary to the expected response of denial or deflection, the older male simply nodded and said, “There you are. Welcome back, Reginald."

Once again, Reggie's reaction was blocked by the cloak. “You're not making sense."

“I rather think I'm making too much." The feline leaned forward. “I can prove it to you, but you'll have to trust me."

“Don't be foolish, Professor; I've always—"

“Say my name."

This time, even Reginald could not stop himself from blinking. “Dr. Blue Sky."

“No." The archeologist extended a forepaw to his student. “Take my forepaw into yours and say my name."

“But that's foolish."

“Prove it." The mountain lion did not move a centimeter, his eyes holding the numbat's firmly.

I have touched him before, Reginald thought. This afternoon, in fact. He held on to me after I'd had that fright, after I saw that horrid sacrificial image of blood and pain. The professor is familiar, safe, not like those other…

He reached out for his mentor's forepaw, clasping it firmly, and he returned the gaze calmly. No reactions, nothing unexpected, never a hint of difficulty.

“Say my name, Reginald."

“Dr. Blue Sky."

“My name, Reginald. Say my name."

“This is foolish…" He started to withdraw his forepaw, surprised by the strength of the increased grip.

“Reginald Brandon Waggoner," the feline intoned, an incantation of identity, supplication to self. “Say my name, Reginald."

“I don't… I…"

“Say it and prove it to me." The grip bordered on painful, and not just for physical reasons. “One way or another, Reginald, prove it to me."

“This is—"

“Prove it."

“You can't—"

“Prove it."

“Jamar!"

A huge, rapid intake of breath accompanied a barrage of images that he could not process fast enough to understand — places, faces, moments of a lifetime, yet all holding a sensation that was the summation of that life, the furson who sat across from him, the strong, confident, caring male who had just revealed everything about himself in a single instant. Exhaling, panting, the young numbat still held the forepaw in his own, yet it was his grip that was tighter now, needing to hold on, to ground himself, to recover from the jolt of Everything that he had just experienced.

Yes, said a voice, in his head or in his ears, ground through me, I understand, it's what I'm here for, I am your friend, I am here to help you, I am here…

Images diffused, sensations softened, breathing slowed to something more regular. He still held the forepaw, firmly, not tightly, and he felt the steadying, the grounding, the sense of being safe even with the strangeness of the experience. It was safe because of the professor, because of Dr. Blue Sky, because of…

A single moment, image, sensation, flickered through his mind. He was looking at himself, his mentor was looking at him, and there was a classroom behind, like a backdrop, and there was probably some speaking, one or the other of them, but it was like a dream, like those dream moments where there must have been some kind of dialog, but it was more like the sensation of speaking rather than discerning actual words. The greater sensation was of emotion, the mountain lion's emotion, and it was so very strong. Affection, approval, pride in the student, protectiveness, hope…

Reggie's eyes, the physical ones, looked at the feline's face; his other eyes, the ones that had just seen so very much, merged their seeing, bringing so much more into focus. The cat's eyes held his own, and they held benevolence, safety, affection, protectiveness, like before, like now…

“How are you feeling?"

After a long moment, the younger male squeezed the elder's forepaw once before releasing it and took in another full breath. He took a sip of his vino and let the warmth of the drink run through him. The question was asked by his eyes rather than with words.

“Yes, let's take a moment to eat." The professor smiled. “I think we both could use it."

They finished the meal in a companionable quiet, broken only by the arrival of the rain, itself quiet and nonintrusive, a soft presence just beyond their encampment. The food, the modest drink, the moderate temperature, perhaps even the strange but undeniably solid nature of this konkretnyy structure, all gave Reggie a sense of stability, perhaps even safety. He made a show of picking up his bowl and licking it clean, which gave both of the males a soft chuckle. Setting down the bowl, the numbat looked across the table and said, almost as softly as the rain, “I think I'm okay now. Tell me what I need to know."

“No, Reginald; you tell me what you already know."

Reggie's eyes widened, his jaw dropped.

“You know how we work together," the mountain lion continued gently. “From information learned, you take the next step yourself, and I guide you in your discovery. This is no different. Take what you have learned and tell me what you now know." After a pause, he nodded slowly. “You can do this. Truthfully, I need you to do this."

Shifting in his chair, Reginald prepared to take the lead. Deduction in these circumstances was something that he did with the proper distance and academic discipline. He looked at the professor sitting before him, preparing to make his observations, when Reggie timidly, then determinedly, then tenderly intervened. He cleared his throat and said, “Would you grant me a starting point?"

The mountain lion gave another benevolent smile, then asked, “What did you encounter?"

“You. I encountered you."

“We have known each other for a long while already."

“Not like this." The professor's nod asked him to continue. “You opened yourself to me…" He shook his head, his ears splaying. “No. Not true. You were open to me long before this. It was the other way around. I opened myself to you. I let you in."

“That is not something that you do often, is it?"

Reggie felt his tail trying to get bushy, and he fought the response. “No, sir."

“Use my name. Please."

A whisper. “Jamar."

Leaning back in his chair, the mountain lion kept his voice soft. “It still frightens you. Can you say why?"

“It's too much."

Silence from the feline. Waiting. Even his ears and tail were still. Judging? Disapproving? No. Just waiting. Giving space. Waiting for me to…

Reggie slumped in his chair, trying to keep his voice from coming out in a whine. “It's not just touch. With you. With anyone. I keep up borders, boundaries, to keep from knowing too much. Like now. I feel like, at some level, I know everything about you. Not individual, not…" He looked for a word and found it. “…discrete facts, instances, secrets. More like impressions, sensations."

“Because you used my name?"

“Yes. Because using your name, your first name, is more personal than referring to you as 'professor' or 'Dr. Blue Sky.' You held my paw, looked into my eyes, and invited me to be more… personal, more intimate. By saying your name, while touching you, I opened myself to that invitation. I let you in."

The younger male looked to the older, trying to understand his emotions, his choices. He wasn't sure if Reggie or Reginald needed to speak, what aspect of himself would best serve his needs. In some mental space, the two clasped their forepaws and let themselves answer the call.

“I need your help," he said. “I am torn between continuing and being silent, between opening more or closing off. I feel that either choice holds risks, and I cannot make the choice on my own."

Slowly leaning forward, Jamar spoke softly. “I will help you, because you need to make an informed choice. Please indulge me by answering a few questions. I ask you to begin by telling me how you discovered this aspect of yourself. When were you first aware of it?"

Reggie managed a wan smile. “I'm completely a cliché. An only joey; slow to make friends; picked on for being small, so I kept to myself; and then the changes of adolescence included my introduction to being careful about what I touched. I'd not heard of the phenomenon before, and what few friends I had couldn't really understand what I was trying to describe to them."

“I have to think that cost you some friends."

“Yes, until I stopped talking about it."

“Not letting them in."

The numbat nodded.

“Did you try cultivating the talent?"

Chuckling with irony, the student shook his head. “Not the word I'd use for this. Wearing gloves all the time is suspicious, not to mention inconvenient. I had to find other ways to protect myself."

“You kept your distance."

Reggie nodded, then frowned slightly. “You knew?"

“I surmised." Jamar gestured to the bowls, rose to collect them. “I have seen a certain playfulness in you, when you are comfortable in your environment, especially in terms of who is with you. There are other times when you adopt a highly professional demeanor, the attitude of the serious student, someone who is far less likely to make a joke or to speak out of turn."

The feline padded to the low wall, still close to the camp, checking the rain collector. The filtering systems would make the water potable, although there was little in the water that was truly dangerous, taken in small quantities; it was perfectly fine for rinsing the dishes. He waited until he was nearer to his colleague before speaking, to prevent the strange reverberations that the structure created.

“Did you ever wonder why I always call you 'Reginald' rather than by some more familiar or diminutive form?" He smiled warmly. “In part, it was due to the fact that you never invited me to, and it seemed rude to presume. The other reason was that it granted you that space, in case you needed it."

“Like this afternoon."

“Yes." Resuming his seat, the older male considered the younger with something like compassion. “You rallied yourself admirably. It was your courage that helped me to stay. I have seen remains before, but only at sites where they were expected to be found. I was frightened by finding them here."

The numbat frowned. “You seemed so calm about it."

“Ready to turn tail and flee!" the professor laughed quietly. “Seeing you calling on your own strength to remain, to bring back that professionalism, made me do the same. We couldn't let us down, could we?"

Feeling more comfortable being his more natural self, Reggie shared his mentor's laugh. “I've likened the idea to donning a cloak, putting on a mental costume. I use my full name, instead of being just 'Reggie,' the joey who couldn't make friends, or couldn't keep them, who couldn't really do anything. Being Reginald Brandon Waggoner got me through school, into college, into the graduate program."

He jerked his head up suddenly, fearful of the response, but his mentor simply held up a forestalling forepaw.

“There was no deception, no cheating involved. 'Reginald' is still you; you've done all the work yourself. This cloak, as you describe it, simply gave you the emotional protection that you needed in order to focus, perhaps even to be taken seriously by some in the department, like…?" He grinned his whiskers pointing upward to the ceiling above them.

Reggie didn't laugh, he outright giggled. “I won't name her; it might leave a black mark on this world!"

Slowly, his giggles and his mentor's grin faded as the comment struck home for both of them. The mountain lion raised his cup, nearly empty, prompting the numbat to do the same. A silent toast, a final sip for them both, and they regarded one another for a long moment.

“Do you want to quit this world, Reginald? For this visit, at least?"

The cloak was there, although Reggie felt that it had become more of himself, where his professor… where Jamar was concerned. “Are there other structures you'd like to investigate while we're here?"

With a soft sigh, the feline said, “This is where your colleague must admit to his selfishness. I want to ask something of you, Reginald…"

“Reggie," the younger male offered softly.

Jamar nodded. “Reggie. I want to be absolutely clear first. Any decision you make, I will respect. We could stop now, return tomorrow, and I will give you full marks, unstinted praise, and top recommendations based on your work here. You have performed an exemplary job, and I mean that with all my heart." He managed a weak smile, offering his forepaw again.

There was no hesitation in taking it, no flood of memory or emotions, and no doubt of the truth of the professor's statements. There was, however, a sensation that made the young numbat's eyes go wide, to make him take in a breath, to withdraw his forepaw a bit more quickly than he had intended.

For just a moment, no movement. If the professor was disappointed, he kept it entirely to himself. “Perhaps we should ready ourselves for sleep," he said softly. “We can break camp tomorrow and signal for our return."

“No, wait, I—"

“I apologize, Reggie. I had meant to offer my paw to prove my sincerity. I should have realized that you would sense what was so prevalent in my mind just now." The mountain lion stood, his movements betraying the creaking of age that he usually hid from others. “I had hoped to ask you more gently…"

“Jamar."

The feline waited as his colleague rose and extended his forepaw.

“We both need words, and I need grounding."

“Are you—" He stopped himself, chagrinned. “You would not ask, if you weren't sure. Thank you for trusting me. It is here," he added softly as he reached out again, “that you must take the lead."

Forepaws grasped gently. “Let yourself be as calm as you can. I have a sort of shield, or… never mind that, for now. I am ready to hear you."

Haltingly, at first, the cat outlined his ideas. It took less than a minute. Reggie acknowledged his fear without giving in to it. A few moments after his mentor had finished, the numbat found his voice again.

“I'm not at all sure that I can sleep," he managed with a wan smile, “but I'm going to try to sleep on it. Is that all right with you?"

“Nothing more could I ask for."

By some unspoken accord, they released each other's paws at the same time. A few moments were awkward, then they were able to smile at one another again.

“Perhaps I will read for a bit," Jamar said, “unless you wish to talk further…?"

“Not tonight, I think. Please forgive me."

“No forgiveness needed. Until the morning, Reggie."

“Until then, Jamar."

The cots were nearer the edges of the pools of light made by the lanterns, but they were close and would burn all night. The otherwise absolute blackness inside the structure was frightening and paradoxically claustrophobic; the sensation of endless blackness gave one a sense of things closing in rather than of being open.

Reggie undressed, removing his clothing but keeping them close, if needed for some emergency. Being furclad was never a problem in familiar company, no taboo. He lay on his side on the cot, his back to the light, looking at the not-too-distant point where it was swallowed by the blackness, likening it to his own mind and heart. No matter how much one learned, explored, experienced, there is always something beyond what is known, something that might or might not be best left unknown. Curiosity always nudged and prodded, knowledge always hungered for more of itself.

The numbat considered the idea once more, and twice, ten times, fifty, hundreds. Sleep was unlikely at best, from wondering, fearing, daring, fleeing, from the absolute uncertainty that he could touch that bench again, and then to hang on, to find the source of that screaming, some part of him wondering if it actually lay inside himself.

To be continued…