Chapter Text
Damn that gambler. Ratio made quick strides through the empty hallway towards the meeting room. Aventurine had raced off ahead to make the final negotiations without so much as a word.
He had waved a hand in the air when Ratio had asked him about his plans for absorbing Eosphoros-I into the IPC portfolio.
“Relax, Ratio. Eosphoros doesn’t have the capital to continue their research after the solar flare disasters. Given their priorities, the university board will sell their planet out without a fight.” He flipped a coin in the air and caught it between his fingers, smiling. “It’s a sure bet. Think of this as a vacation. Why don’t you go check out the facilities, make some new academic connections? Eosphoros is a long way from Veritas Prime.”
“No bet is without risk. Risk mitigation is rarely a superfluous concern. As a result, the terms of the negotiation are my foremost priority, as should they be yours.”
“Of course they are,” Aventurine had said, and then he disappeared to deal with them all by himself.
Damn that gambler, Ratio repeated in his head. Aventurine wasn’t the type of Stoneheart who harbored lone wolf tendencies—he preferred to collect allies, chips to use on the gambling table. He used Ratio without reservation when they were assigned together, so there was one likely reason why Ratio had been excluded from the bet this time around: he saw him as a potential hindrance rather than as an advantage.
How moronic. Ratio did seek to acquire the best terms for the scholars on this planet, but he was well aware that a harmonious relationship resulted only when both parties were satisfied with the deal. It was in his best interest that both Eosphoros and the IPC emerged content with their respective lots. Ratio valued knowledge, but he wasn’t the kind of idiot that was blind to the weight of money.
He stopped before the placard denoting room 520. The entrance seemed far more elaborate than the other rooms he had passed on his way here: there were roses and vines carved out in white frosted glass all along the enlarged doorway, lit softly behind by cold light.
Above the artistry, carved into the granite head jamb were the following words: “LOCUS DESIDERII.”
Here was the risk that Ratio had been anticipating. He made a move to enter, but beyond the doorless opening he heard a sound.
“Dr. Ros.” It was Aventurine. Ratio suppressed a groan. How could he be so stupid? Didn’t he know that this room was what Eosphoros-I was famous for? He prepared to stride inside and drag whoever was there out to a proper meeting room—
—before he stopped short at the sight of himself.
Aventurine stood alone in a dark rotunda, his back to the entrance. His silhouette was lit by the colorful projections of a strangely decorated living space: a scalloped red armchair sat next to a classically styled one in white. A pile of chips lay scattered across the coffee table, while a mounted marble bust looked grimly on at the mess.
In the kitchen, a figure was poaching eggs. Ratio’s figure, in duck-patterned pajamas he didn’t remember owning.
He should walk in there and drag him out now. But instead he stood transfixed, watching the lines of tension in Aventurine's form grow taut as a second Stoneheart shuffled towards the imaginary kitchen.
He yawned, slouched over in loose teal clothing like a peacock with all his feathers closed neatly away.
The holographic Aventurine wandered over towards the other Ratio and wrapped his arms around him, burrowing his face into his neck. “Good morning, Veritas.”
Ratio watched himself smile softly, lean down, and kiss Aventurine chastely, as if he existed in a bubble of intimacy for two.
“Dr. Ro-os,” The real Aventurine repeated, more impatiently this time. Ratio's gaze snapped towards his dark silhouette, and he hid himself further behind the corner of the entranceway.
“This play you've prepared is rather interesting, but I was informed that this was a meeting for two.” Aventurine's heels clicked as he paced a slow circle. “Time is money, and the IPC does not spend lightly.”
When there was no response, Aventurine huffed a quiet sigh, still smiling. He paid no attention to the projected figures speaking quietly to each other. “Dr. Ros, I'm afraid you leave me with no choice.”
He flipped a chip into the air with one hand, and with a snap it hurtled like a bullet towards the edges of the rotunda.
Crack!
Before the chip could reach the walls of the room, it lodged itself into a transparent pane of glass. The glass crackled as it spiderwebbed into thin pieces, then abruptly gave way as the whole sheet tumbled to the ground with a crash. The projections fizzed and disappeared, and the lights in the room suddenly went on.
“M-Mr. Aventurine!” A man rushed in from a small side door. He mopped sweat from his brow and pushed his tiny glasses up from his shiny nose. “That was Eosphoros’s pride and joy, h-how dare—”
“Dr. Ros!” Aventurine spread his arms wide then shook his hand with an enthusiastic grip. Dr. Ros’s glasses slipped down to the tip of his nose, and he scrambled to push it all the way back up. “My apologies. The IPC will reimburse the university for the damages in full. Now, we were to meet here 10 minutes ago to discuss what the IPC can do for Eosphoros, yes?”
“A-ah, yes. Let us move to a different location, this isn't quite the best room for negotiations—”
“Don't trouble yourself, Doctor. After all, you went to the trouble of reserving this place just for us. It’ll do just fine. Are there any terms of the contract that you're unhappy with? It's similar to our relationship with Veritas Prime: we provide you with funding, in exchange for the fruits of your research—”
“Mr. Aventurine. You asked us to alter the requirements of admittance, that's, that's—”
“Well, yes. The IPC is effectively covering the tuition of your students, aren't we? Shouldn't we invest in the best and brightest? If you explain how the IPC receives more value by removing this stipulation, I'm happy to hear you out.”
Dr. Ros shook for a moment, before he steadied out. He wiped one last sheen of sweat from his forehead and drew himself tall.
“Mr. Aventurine. You know what this room is, do you not?”
Aventurine made no reaction. He just stood there, smiling back.
“It's Eosphoros's famous room of desire. It shows you the truths buried within your heart.” Dr. Ros stared hard. “If Dr. Ratio were to find out—”
Aventurine started cackling, long and loud. It's already too late for that, Ratio thought drily, as he listened to the conversation within. He was ready to step in if Aventurine had any trouble with the confrontation, but it appeared that would be unnecessary.
Aventurine regained his composure. “Are you blackmailing me, Dr. Ros? I'll admit I didn't expect such a clumsy move from someone as esteemed as yourself.”
“It's one term on the contract,” Dr. Ros said, shaking off his own shock. “You're the Stoneheart here. You can change that one small thing, and the contents of this room will remain forever a secret. Veritas Prime wasn't asked to change their admittance requirements—surely the IPC would overlook such a tiny thing—”
“Dr. Ros.” Aventurine was smiling, serene and still, and he shrunk back at the inhuman gleam of his neon eyes. “You can tell Dr. Ratio anything you want to. But I’d like to remind you that negotiation is a gesture of goodwill by the IPC. I'm sure that both of us would rather avoid escalating the response to your threat with anything more forceful, right?”
Aventurine relaxed and checked his watch. “Again, I'm happy to hear you out once you have an argument prepared. Otherwise, please send the contract to me by tomorrow morning.” He turned around with a wave. “Don’t take too long!”
Ratio quietly moved a distance down the hall so that when Aventurine swept out of the room it would seem as if he were just arriving. Aventurine blinked.
“Ratio.” He smiled. “You just missed the negotiations!”
“Yes, by your deliberate machinations.”
“Don’t worry yourself about them. Like I said, it's a sure bet.” He patted Ratio on the shoulder as he left. “I'll be up in my room.”
Ratio watched him go for a moment. Then, he stepped quietly into the Locus Desiderii.
Now Dr. Ros, Eosphoros's selected representative, was trembling slightly in the middle of the brightly lit rotunda. There was glass scattered all across the marble floor, the circuitry within glinting in the light.
“Dr. Ros.” He whirled around so violently sweat flew off his face. Ratio stepped back in distaste.
“D-Dr. Ratio! It's an honor to meet you, truly!”
“Your exaggerations are unnecessary. I am a mere Mundanite, here only as a simple IPC representative.”
“Dr. Ratio, your humbleness precedes you.” Dr. Ros moved closer, and Ratio stifled the urge to move away from this absurdly sweaty man. “Please. As the IPC’s representative, won't you help us with this tyrannical contract? You negotiated the terms for Veritas Prime yourself. Please, help us preserve the quality of the education here in Eosphoros-I.”
“Let me see the contract.” Dr. Ros’s face flickered with confusion. “So you can point out the offensive portions for me.”
It was unusual, but Ratio hadn't actually seen the contract Aventurine drew up for the planet. He had done it all quickly, efficiently, and without involving Ratio at all. Somehow he suspected Aventurine would dodge his attempts to get his hands on a copy: his only recourse was to examine it from Dr. Ros’s hands.
“A-ah, of course.” He pulled out a tablet from the folds of his gray robes and handed it to Ratio, who began to scan through the contents quickly. “It's section 44C. It's an overstep.” Dr. Ros balled his hands together. “That Sigonian… He's really overstepping!”
Ratio ignored him. The contract was… nearly identical to the one agreed on between the IPC and Veritas Prime. In other words, it was very, very favorable for the little planet of Eosphoros. It allowed Eosphoros nearly unlimited autonomy. All it asked for in return for saving the planet from their impending economic collapse was (1) the results of the research, and (2) the establishment of a funding committee to direct the IPC’s generous support towards certain areas of interest. Continuing research areas would receive a baseline level of funding, while particularly interesting projects could petition for additional support.
It was… less of a contract, and more of a gift. He knew Aventurine could have squeezed far more subservience into the terms—after all, Eosphoros was a planet on the brink of disaster. Their situation was nothing like Veritas Prime.
Then, he got all the way down to section 44C. At the very end of the contract, there was the singular difference between these terms and the ones he had signed all those years ago.
He read through the subsequent paragraphs. It was, as he had overheard earlier, a change in the admissions process. He read through section 44C again all the while Dr. Ros wringed his gray robe nervously in the corner.
Inexplicably, his heart began to pound. He fought to keep the impassive expression on his face as he scanned the words over and over again.
“Well?” Dr. Ros’s patience was fraying from his nerves. “It's a damn overstep, isn't it, it'll destroy—”
Ratio shut the tablet off with a click, and handed it back to Dr. Ros. “I'm afraid I can't help you.” He turned to go. “I advise you to accept the terms.”
“Wait! Wait!” Dr. Ros scrambled after him. He recognized the timbre of his voice: the tone of a man who was about to use one last card in desperation. Ratio tensed. “You're the only one who can. You see, for you, that damn Sigonian—”
Ratio turned around. “Dr. Ros. This is Eosphoros’s prized room of desire, yes?”
Dr. Ros blinked, caught off-guard. “Ah, yes…”
“I'd like a demonstration.”
“If that would allow you to hear me out, then yes, of course, Doctor, but our facility is rather damaged right now—”
“I've read the latest publications on the research here. While the loss of a projection glass will affect the resolution of the images, the core functionality of the room is unaffected, correct?”
“Ah, yes, Dr. Ratio! You've researched our work deeply; I'm honored.”
“Then, I'd like a demonstration. Show me what is within my heart.” Perhaps Aventurine would call this a gamble. Yet Ratio felt with complete certainty that he knew what the outcome would be. A sure bet, he would call it, grinning over his coins.
“Doctor, the images shown here are… deeply personal. Are you sure you would be comfortable revealing…”
“I'm certain.”
“Th-then, by all means, I will gladly offer a demonstration! Please, wait in the center of the rotunda.” Dr. Ros scampered quickly into the side room, and Ratio navigated carefully past the broken glass to stand at the point between the projection screens.
After a few moments, the room plunged into darkness, and Ratio felt the electric sizzling of his hair as the machines embedded into the ceiling scanned his brain for desire. It was Eosphoros's uniquely noninvasive technology, their crowning achievement as a planet.
And then, before him, there it was again: the mismatched furniture in the apartment. The two figures, embracing in the kitchen.
Ratio didn't move. He willed his throat to keep from closing. The whole scene, with the loss of one glass, was fuzzy with static.
Almost immediately, the projections disappeared and the overhead lamps turned on. Dr. Ros rushed out into the main room.
“I-I am so sorry, Dr. Ratio, but it appears the damage to the Locus has caused it to malfunction. Our—our scanner must have reused old data—that’s what I was hoping to talk to you about, actually—”
“No need. There was no malfunction.” Ratio had read Eosphoros’s journals thoroughly. The projection glasses were essentially a separate system from the scanners—no damage to the glasses could affect the scanners’ functionality. The glasses themselves were incapable of storing data: in short, an error such as the reuse of old data was impossible. “Thank you for the demonstration—the Locus’s technology is impressive indeed.” With those parting words, he made to leave.
“Wait, Dr. Ratio—about Section 44C—”
“Only idiots,” Ratio began with one glance back, “fail to see mercy when it is delivered to them on a platter.” With that, he headed outside to find Aventurine.