“Satan is the evil one in human Christianity,” Strong said. “He is the opposite of their God. Like the Cruel Father is the opposite of the Goddess. Santa, on the other hand—”
“I know what and who each of them are meant to be,” Clear interrupted with a bit of irritation. “I just keep mixing up the names.” He waved a hand, brushing the issue away. “Anyway, it’s not important. What’s important is that I drew Melanie’s name, which is the perfect opportunity both for me to give her a thoughtful gift, and for her to meet my equally thoughtful twin—you.”
“I don’t know…” Strong shook his head doubtfully. “I just think you’re aiming too high, Brother. You might as well ask the Goddess herself to mate with us as to hope a mature, successful Elite would be interested.”
“Strong, please…” Clear knew that his brother wanted to find a mate even more urgently than he did himself. It had been the Dark Twin’s suggestion that they move to the Mother Ship in the first place, where compatible single females were in much higher supply than on Twin Moons or, indeed, any of the Kindred home worlds. But in their six months aboard the ship, he had been disappointed time and again.
Clear was afraid his twin was beginning to despair and think that they would never find a mate. But the Light Twin hadn’t given up hope yet and he had the feeling if Strong would only come and meet Melanie, it would revive his hope as well.
She finds me attractive, I know she does, he thought, remembering her pink cheeks and wide eyes when he’d spoken about two Twin Kindred pleasuring a female. And if she found Clear attractive, she was certain to think the same about Strong. But how could he know for certain unless he could get the two of them together?
“I don’t know,” Strong said again and sighed. “I guess I’ll think about it.” He glanced at the chronometer on his wrist and grimaced. “Time for my next shift. I’ll see you in the morning.” He finished his coffee in a single long gulp and handed the mug to Clear.
“Be well, Brother,” Clear said, nodding.
“Thanks, you too. And…” Strong hesitated. “I hope your meeting with the little Elite goes well,” he said at last, grudgingly. “I’ll stay away from her, at least until your office Christmas party, so you can enjoy your hope for as long as possible.”
Clear shook his head in exasperation.
“Strong—”
“No time to argue now,” his twin interrupted. “I have to get going. See you later.”
And he left, pulling his white lab coat on over his long arms and broad shoulders as he exited their suite.
“If only you would meet her,” Clear muttered in frustration, watching his brother go. “If only you’d meet her, you would see!”
But see what? What if Strong was right and he was reading too much into things? Maybe Melanie genuinely did just want to learn to use her wave and she had no interest in Clear other than that. What if she was only being nice to him?
What if she didn’t find him attractive in the least?
“No,” Clear said aloud, pushing the doubts out of his mind. “No, I won’t lose hope! Not yet. There’s at least a chance that a mature and beautiful Elite might fall for Strong and me, if I put myself forward. But there’s no chance at all if I don’t try.”
Taking his brother’s coffee mug to the sink, he ran some water in it and glanced at his own chronometer. Damn! If he didn’t hurry he was going to be late!
Leaving the coffee mug in the sink, he rushed out the door.
3
“Okay, I think this should work all right.”
Melanie frowned at the frozen pizza she’d chosen for tonight’s cooking lesson. She had a few other things in the fridge too, but Sonja swore that frozen pizza tasted amazing when it was cooked by the wave.
“Seriously, it’s a game-changer,” she’d gushed to Melanie. “The wave makes the crust crispy and the cheese all ooey-and gooey and melty…it tastes just like homemade!”
Melanie didn’t know about that—she only knew that everything she’d tried to cook in the Kindred version of an oven had been burned to a crisp in a matter of seconds.
The wave appliance was a little taller than waist high—having been made for the much taller Kindred—and it consisted of a flat metal base about the surface area of a regular stove, and a thin sheet of highly tempered metal alloy which pulled out of the wall above it. The thin sheet aligned exactly with the base, matching it perfectly.
Melanie reached for the handle now and pulled the wave top—no thicker than a sheet of paper—out of the wall so that it was directly above the base. It was supposed to shoot thousands of pinkish-red microfine heat rays out when you told it to cook and get everything done in an instant. This sounded great in theory, but Melanie thought that maybe something was wrong with her model.