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“I-I simply think our resources would be better served elsewhere. The gravity regulator isn’t a primary -”
“You called me here as a consultant; disregarding my instruction is both idiotic and a waste of my time.”
Ratio sighs and straightens from where he had been checking the myriad display screens at the front of the small space faring vessel. Though the vessel is safely connected to the Herta Space Station, it’s docked on the outside for its first full systems test. The unending expanse of dark space extends beyond the window when Ratio looks up, and the unknowable vastness of it is momentarily dizzying.
When he turns around, Ratio is immediately grounded by the stammering researcher clutching a clipboard tightly to his chest. Ratio reaches into the pocket of his lab coat and pulls out a silver pen before striding forward and holding a hand out expectantly. The researcher hesitates briefly before handing over the clipboard.
“Did you not read the safety regulations? The conditions for a regulation compliant launch include a functional gravity regulator and a failsafe, even if the vessel is intended to be largely unmanned.” Ratio skims the documents on the clipboard, then frowns and marks several areas on the page, including the parameters for the gravity regulator and the current projected levels of functionality. He flips to the next page and pauses, tapping the document with the end of his pen. “What about the data storage and backup units? The output devices?”
“Yes, they’re all functional,” the researcher says, and when Ratio just looks up at him expectantly, he startles and quickly moves over to the main console of the vessel. In a few quick inputs, he’s pulled up the data recording interface. “Everything is ready for a test run, Doctor. I’ve set the system to map and record the nearest observable star systems and galaxies and translate it to a sonification to start, as Mr. Screwllum requested. Unless you would prefer a different type of test?”
“No, that will do,” Ratio says, moving closer to watch the researcher finish setting up the test run. As soon as he’s stepped up beside the other man, he immediately misclicks a setting and makes several typos. Ratio resists the urge to comment, and instead turns away again.
“S-Sorry,” the researcher says sheepishly, but once Ratio has moved back, he straightens up again. “The test is ready, whenever you’d like it to run. I will be monitoring it from outside. Do you want to start it now?”
Ratio scans the screens carefully, checking and rechecking the researcher’s work, then nods. “Everything seems to be in order. Put the -”
The door of the vessel hisses open and Ratio cuts himself off, pausing and turning around. It should not be a surprise that Screwllum enters, hands clasped politely behind his back. He approaches at a leisurely pace, and somehow Ratio gets the feeling that he’s looking at him the whole time.
“Question: Would you be averse to my company?”
While Screwllum appears to be addressing both of them, he remains turned towards Ratio, holding his gaze until Ratio glances away, looking back at the screens and ignoring the heat rising to his face under the full weight of Screwllum’s focus. “It is a project under your purview, Mr. Screwllum,” Ratio says, his usual sternness in his tone. “Naturally, I have no objections.”
“Understood,” Screwllum says, and though it is just one word, his tone warms with what Ratio has learned is almost a smile, something reserved solely for him. He doesn’t look back up at Screwllum, but his ears burn.
In his usual tone of voice, Screwllum turns to the researcher and nods. “Please start the test. We will remain here.”
“Y-Yes, Mr. Screwllum!” the researcher stammers out, looking somewhat starstruck, then turns and darts out of the vessel.
Ratio can hear the man leave and then enter the control room at the docking station. The intercom crackles as he begins to prepare for the test.
“I do not anticipate this test being overly exciting,” Ratio says, adjusting a few settings on the screens in front of him until the data recording interface is displaying the graphs and numbers that he wants. He fiddles with the sound output for a moment, too, making sure that the sonification will be audible to him.
“You are here,” Screwllum says easily, and Ratio’s hand freezes over the volume control. The screen beeps once when he takes too long to release the button, and Screwllum laughs quietly. “I need no other reason to desire to stay.”
“I … see,” Ratio says, after a long moment. No matter how many times Screwllum has so plainly stated his feelings or intentions, there’s something about the blatant, earnest affection that he so easily puts into words that catches Ratio off guard more often than not. Not that he dislikes it - if he is honest it would be … quite to the contrary.
Screwllum does not take Ratio’s lukewarm response in any other way than he meant it - a mere stumble in his reaction - and Ratio finally lifts his head again, looking at Screwllum out of the corners of his eyes. “Then, well, I would be … glad for your company.”
Screwllum simply hums slightly in response and reaches out to change one of the settings Ratio hadn’t gotten to yet. As he does so, his arm brushes up against Ratio’s, the smooth fabric of his coat sliding against Ratio’s arm, and the leather of his gloves brushing against Ratio’s knuckles as his hand drifts over his to reach the screen.
While the casual intimacy causes Ratio’s face to flush, he does not pull away. He does not enjoy others being privy to his private affairs, but Screwllum knows this. If there were active cameras on them, he trusts that Screwllum would act with more subtlety.
“Everything is ready,” the researcher says, then, through the intercom. “Please let me know when to begin.”
Ratio glances to Screwllum’s hand, still brushing against his, then back to his face. When Screwllum nods, Ratio turns to speak towards the intercom; he withdraws his hand, but remains standing close enough that their arms brush. “Proceed with the test.”
“Live test is initiating,” the researcher says, narrating for data recording purposes. Ratio turns back to the screens to watch the data fluctuate as the researcher begins to turn on the various systems. “All systems will be activated save for actual undocking for the first full test of the data recording vessel. Data is set to record image data of the nearest star systems and galaxies and output the image as a sonification. System activation in three … two … one …”
The lights in the small vessel brighten and the screens that are dormant turn on. Beneath them, the vessel thrums quietly as its systems come alive and begin to record data. Ratio watches the screens, keeping an eye on the power regulation and data input and output, and then the lights flicker. Screwllum is moving before Ratio has fully processed the quick flicker, pulling up an interface for the internal power source and machinery, and then there is a loud powering down sound and all of the overhead lights shut off, submerging the interior of the vessel in near-darkness, save for the glowing screens and faint emergency lights. That isn’t good.
“Mr. Screwllum, Dr. Ratio - are you alright?! The power flicker engaged the emergency lockdown procedure, and -”
“We are unharmed,” Screwllum says, interrupting the researcher’s frantic questions with his usual calm tone. He turns slightly, as if checking to see if Ratio is alright, then steps towards the intercom. He surprises Ratio by speaking again, quick enough that the researcher can’t get a word in edgewise. “Question: Are the oxygen and temperature control systems functional?”
At that, Ratio turns to look at him, narrowing his eyes and scrutinizing Screwllum’s posture. There isn’t really anything to glean from him - Screwllum stands as he usually does, poised and somehow both relaxed and elegant at the same time, and besides the flickering of his eyes, there is no expression for Ratio to observe. But he does not turn to meet Ratio’s gaze, nor does he acknowledge the stare that he can surely sense. There is only one reason Screwllum would be asking about that, and the implications of the urgency to which he posed the questions …
“Yes, currently, the lockdown procedure has only affected the overhead lighting and door controls. Ah, to save energy, the temperature may drop a bit, but what I’m more worried about is the -”
Before the researcher can finish his thought, there’s a dull clicking noise and the sound of something else powering down, and then Ratio’s stomach lurches when the gravity in the room is abruptly shut off. He bites back a yelp, instead grabbing onto the edge of the console in front of him in a futile effort to keep some semblance of control over his body and biting out, “What did I say about the gravity regulator?”
“I-I … I’m sorry! I can’t fix it from here, but all other essential system functions are operational, I promise! I’ll try to get the lockdown procedure to disengage as soon as possible!”
And then there is a little click, signaling that the researcher has opted to flee in an effort to avoid Ratio’s scolding. Coward.
Screwllum hums as if in thought, and it’s only then that Ratio realizes that, unlike him, Screwllum is remaining upright and only floating a short distance off the floor in the low-gravity vessel. It shouldn’t be that surprising, he supposes. Ratio has no illusions of beginning to know all of the capabilities and functions of the ruler of Planet Screwllum - the ability to operate in low-gravity atmospheres is likely something basic for him.
Ratio, on the other hand, has no such capabilities. He has mostly managed to angle himself upright by propping himself up against the wall, but that’s about as much as he can manage; his few experiences in low gravity haven’t been enough to make him comfortable in it.
“Would you like assistance?” Screwllum asks after a moment, turning towards Ratio. He clasps his hands behind his back politely, and his question has no trace of judgment or presumption.
In the low blueish glow of the emergency lighting and dimmed screens, the warm colors of Screwllum’s attire stands out against the otherwise silver and gray vessel. Only the very edges of him catch the faint light, and it glints softly on the rim of his monocle. He moves forward slightly, but remains silent, patiently waiting for Ratio to answer.
“And how would you propose to do that?” Ratio replies with a question of his own, admittedly somewhat distracted when his foot slips against the wall and he nearly pushes himself away from it by accident.
Screwllum simply moves forward again. “Like this,” he says, and reaches out. He moves slow enough that Ratio could stop him, if he wanted to, but instead Ratio finds himself curious to see what Screwllum will do.
Gently, Screwllum pries one of Ratio’s hands away from where he had been gripping part of the vessel’s wall and grasps his hand. The leather of Screwllum’s glove is smooth against Ratio’s bare palm, and he is so surprised by the action that he doesn’t resist as Screwllum carefully pulls him forward. In the low gravity, Ratio is moved with just that one motion - forward, closer, until he is nearly chest-to-chest with Screwllum and Screwllum wraps an arm around his waist as if they are poised to dance.
As soon as his brain catches up, Ratio feels heat rise to his face. Though Screwllum is not holding him tightly, his grasp is firm enough to keep Ratio steady - and Ratio can’t help but hone in on those points of contact. They are nearly flush against each other. Screwllum’s one hand is around his waist, holding him securely, and the other shifts until their fingers are interlaced together. He places his free hand on Screwllum’s shoulder.
“Analysis: You are embarrassed, but not opposed to this arrangement,” Screwllum says, and though he has lowered his voice, it still rings clear in the small space between them, as if filling Ratio’s ears.
Ratio closes his eyes briefly, attempting to compose himself, and when he opens his eyes again he is met with Screwllum waiting patiently, eyes flickering slowly, as if content to watch and observe. “You are not incorrect, I suppose,” Ratio says eventually.
Screwllum laughs quietly, and it seems like he is about to speak when the vessel beeps. Both he and Ratio turn to look at the frontmost screen to see that it has begun recording a visual of the nearest star systems and galaxies, just as planned. The visual is being mapped out in real time in front of them, displayed as a growing image of the cosmos beyond the Space Station, little lights depicting distant stars and planets and glowing auras of a faraway galaxy. A glowing line pulses at the beginning of the display, then slowly begins to move across space and a beat later, the sound of a synthesized violin rings out in the vessel in a low, rich tone. A second stringed instrument joins in as the glowing line hits the first star displayed on the screen, with other synthesized sounds joining the orchestra as the line passes over spots of light on the image - distant stars and planets and space phenomena light years away, displayed as images and output as music, ebbing and flowing with the brightness of space.
For a long few moments, Ratio and Screwllum hover in silence, pressed close with Ratio snug in Screwllum’s embrace, and listen to the sounds of the star systems. The notes jump and swell in time with the line passing over more densely clustered points of lights. The technology synthesizes planets into percussion beats and the glow of a distant galaxy into long, trilling notes. Each star is a new sound plucked from space.
Ratio turns his gaze from the display to the stars beyond the window, and without the overhead lights from the vessel casting his reflection on the glass, he can see all of the distant stars with sharper clarity. The tiny pinpoints belie great, luminous phenomena in locations far, far from where they are now. On distant planets closer to those little lights, so small that the sonification reads them as tinkling high notes, perhaps they are guiding constellations. Perhaps they have myths and stories behind them that children learn, drawing lines between the stars and sleeping beneath familiar pictures of animals or guardians.
“What made you choose sonification as the initial test?” Ratio keeps his voice low as he speaks, as if afraid to interrupt the music of the stars echoing through the vessel.
Screwllum matches his volume when he replies, squeezing Ratio’s hand lightly. “Besides the practical reason of testing the input, output, and synthesis capabilities of the vessel, I simply wanted you to hear it.”
Ratio looks back at Screwllum, who has not turned from staring at him the entire time. He frowns slightly, trying to piece together what Screwllum means. “I have heard sonification before.”
“I know,” Screwllum says, and he pulls Ratio just ever so slightly closer. There is that something like a smile in his voice again, and the lights of his eyes are solid, holding Ratio’s always-curious gaze. “The code used for this sonification is based on my own,” he says, without a change in tone, as if he’s simply speaking about something as mundane as the weather.
The implication causes Ratio’s breath to hitch slightly. “You’re saying that this … That it’s analogous to the way you observe the universe?”
“Not always,” Screwllum says, turning slightly and looking at the screen. “I rely on visual and mathematical methods to observe space, just as you do - but something akin to sonification is another method I am capable of using to understand the world around me.”
Before Ratio can reply, Screwllum takes a step back and pulls Ratio with him. His weightlessness makes him follow Screwllum’s movement and he doesn’t resist, letting Screwllum lead him closer to the center of the vessel. “Would you indulge a whim of mine, Ratio?”
When Ratio nods, already guessing what Screwllum wants to do, Screwllum slowly pulls him into a simple waltz - slow and intimate, swaying carefully, spinning in circles in time with the stars made into music. Ratio’s lab coat billows behind him in the low gravity, floating and swinging with each gentle movement Screwllum guides him in. He knows how a simple waltz goes, and when Screwllum holds his waist and lifts him as he would a jump, he lets it happen, just as he indulgently follows Screwllum’s lead to twist and spin.
“I wanted you to hear it,” Screwllum says again, pulling Ratio in close once more. There is a definite fondness in his voice, something warm and open, and it is as human a sentiment as Ratio has ever heard conveyed in words. Screwllum presses one hand behind his back as he pulls Ratio to face the same way, then grasps both of Ratio’s hands from behind. He presses Ratio’s back against his chest, swaying slowly. Screwllum’s voice is close to Ratio’s ear when he speaks. “I imagine that, perhaps, the swell of music upon every bright point of light is akin to the swell of emotion organic beings derive from beauty.”
When Screwllum gently spins Ratio around again, hand returning to his waist, his eyes are still solid and the full weight of his attention remains on Ratio. The sonification continues to map out the stars behind them, and as it hits a bright galaxy far away, the light from it blooming on the chart in front of them, the music begins to grow in a gentle swell, too.
“Ratio,” Screwllum says, that undeniable warmth still in his voice, his tone low as if weighed by tangible affection, “I wanted you to understand, at least partially, how I view the world. There are many misconceptions regarding mechanical life forms and their emotional capabilities that I know you do not share, but I hope that if you did have any reservations …”
“I did not,” Ratio says, and he is telling the truth. His voice is slightly hoarse from the weight of what Screwllum is sharing with him, and for once he flounders for the right words to say. “I … Screwllum, I have not doubted the veracity of your intentions, and if I have implied otherwise, it was not my intent.”
Screwllum just laughs, and the sound is rich despite the synthetic edge to it. The laugh comes easy, and he slows their impromptu dance, instead holding Ratio close in the center of the vessel. His hand holding Ratio’s waist moves up to cup his cheek instead, gloved thumb gently brushing just under his eye, careful to avoid smudging the red.
“I believe you,” Screwllum says, and Ratio’s eyes flicker across his face as if it will impart a hint of his thoughts. “Request: Listen. This is the sound of the brightest observable section of the nearest galaxy.”
They both fall quiet and Ratio follows Screwllum’s gaze as he turns to glance at the stars being mapped out on the screen. The sonification line hits the galaxy that it is mapping and the bright, white-gold and blue-edged glow causes the music to rise to a swelling crescendo, a sound loud and so full of somehow audible light that it, too, swells solid and warm in Ratio’s chest, tugging at his emotions in the same way that affection does. He thinks he understands.
“That,” Screwllum says as the luminous galaxy on the screen tapers off and the sound slows and grows softer, “is how I feel towards you.”
Ah -
The simple confession hits Ratio square in the chest, the weight of it sitting there, heavy, and knocking the air from his lungs. For a moment, his thoughts stutter to a stop in time with the skip of his heart, and he is silent. Screwllum, however, simply caresses his cheek again and laughs quietly.
In reply, Ratio pulls on their intertwined hands and Screwllum lets him maneuver their hands until Screwllum’s palm is pressed flat against Ratio’s chest, just over his heart, so he can sense how fast it beats. Screwllum glances down, eyes flickering quickly, taking in the data, mapping out Ratio’s heart rate, and when he looks back up and meets Ratio’s gaze, Ratio smiles slightly, softer than his usual expression.
“And I needn’t explain how I return the sentiment,” Ratio says quietly. Even to him, there is a raw fondness in his voice - an openness with his affection that is shown to no one else, a vulnerability that he exposes as a sign of trust.
Screwllum’s eyes flicker before returning to solid lights, and his hand moves from Ratio’s cheek to tracing his jaw, then to brushing against his lips. Ratio tilts his head in reply, moving his hand on Screwllum’s shoulder to take Screwllum’s hand in his and move it closer until he can return the gesture, kissing the fingers that traced his lips.
When Ratio lifts his head, Screwllum pulls him close again and turns them so that they are both able to take a better look at the vastness of space beyond the vessel window. Neither of them make a move to shift from the overly intimate position, half as if they are primed to waltz once more, half in a lover’s embrace.
Eventually, the researcher outside the vessel will figure out how to disengage the emergency locks, or perhaps they will grow weary of waiting and they will deem it time to override it from the inside - for now, however, they indulge in each other’s company.
The vessel is still mostly dark, illuminated only by the emergency lights and the nearest star systems and galaxies that the screen is mapping out. The dim light is accompanied by the sounds of space and stars put to music, gently flowing around them, rising and falling with the distant points of light and lives far beyond the Space Station. At the same time, Ratio and Screwllum are surrounded by the unknowable expanse of the universe, listening to the stars, and pressed close together, knowing in no uncertain terms that their affection for each other is real. In that dark vessel, floating yet anchored together, it is as if they are those points of distant light unto themselves, orbiting the other in synchronicity.