Scale-free View


Electra’s interview turned out to be pretty popular with TV 8 viewers (and affiliates across the country). When she started appearing in her segment, clips were often rebroadcast on the same show.

She’d always greet new sylphs with a hug, saying ‘Amelia taught me this.’

One farmer’s sylph was his brother, who’d sylphed in the chicken coop and barely escaped being pecked to death. Harry balked at the offered hug, pointing out that he was old enough to be her father. She didn’t flinch from the term, or the memory of her father. She just left her arms spread out.

“It’d be weird,” he went on. She smiled and made ‘come here’ gestures. Me and the other cameraman just waited patiently. Harry’s brother, Mitchell, watched in silence. “And I’m ugly.” He traced one of the facial scars from the pecking with his finger.

“Half the humans I’ve met since I sylphed,” Electra said, “treat me as if I’m something contagious. If they touch me, they look like a 6-year-old girl touching a slimy bullfrog on a dare.

“The rest can’t really hug me, they sort of hug ‘at’ me. This isn’t sexual, I just want a little bit of human contact. Okay? And you’re about as ugly as a weathered oak tree.”

He couldn’t refute anything she said (I know big surprise), and stumbled over to embrace her. Then he broke into tears. She cried with him.

“Okay,” Mark said in our headphones. “We’ll wait until they’re composed.”

“I never realized…” Mitch started to say. Then he quieted.

I decided then to make a little stencil for Electra, so she could paint ‘kills’ on her carrier like a fighter pilot. She’d get two for today.

-----

The last day of school before the holiday break, Chip and Chrissy asked to take us out to dinner.

We had nothing scheduled so we accepted and they picked us up at the house. We ended up driving to Twin Falls.

Electra begged for a stop at the bridge, at the scenic overlook. Chip shrugged and pulled over.

Every kid in Springwater has been there, looking up and down the canyon, seeing the walls, the river, the big pile of dirt left over from Evel Knievel’s jump.

It was windy, as usual, so I kept a tight grip on Electra as I held her over the rail of the overlook.

She breathed deep and stared happily.

“What’s she doing?” Chrissy asked.

“There’s no scale,” I said.

“What?” Chip asked.

“From her point of view right there, there’s the outrageously huge canyon, looking just like it did whenever she came here as a kid on a class trip, or on a date.” I didn’t look at Chip but I think he was nodding. “This view of the canyon, it’s so unimaginably big, it’s NOT a reminder that she’s a sylph.”

“But she’s still in your hand,” Chrissy pointed out.

“It’s the view she’s here for,” I said. “I don’t dare let go in this wind.” We all indulged Electra for as long as she wanted to look at the canyon.

We ended up at a buffet chain restaurant. I got Electra a bit of roast beef, a yeast roll and a tablespoon of butter. She tunneled into the still-hot bread with a big smile of absolute bliss.

At some point in the meal, Chrissy told us why we were there. “So, do you know how close Electra was to graduating when she sylphed?”

“What? No, she sylphed at the start of the year. She had a pretty heavy class load, as I recall.”

“Yeah,” Electra said.

“Yes,” Chrissy acknowledged, “but technically, most of those were electives.” She waved her hands. “No, no, I mean, the diploma she was shooting for needed all those.”

“But,” Chip said, “for bare minimum passing? She had almost enough credits to graduate.”

“For example, you don’t need to take four years of math,” Chrissy went on. “Her three completed years were more than enough to satisfy the basic requirements.”

“What are you driving at?” Electra asked. She stood up and stepped out of her bowl to look up at the two grinning fiends across the table from us.

“You COULD graduate. With us. And get a diploma.”

“Why?”

“Why NOT?” Chrissy asked. “I mean, you’re close. REALLY close.”

“You can’t make valedictorian, not at this point,” Chip said. “But we think you should at least get a diploma.”

“Sylphs don’t attend school,” Electra said quietly.

“We spoke with the principal,” Chrissy said. “Mr. Bower said it was up to the teachers who you’d need the last credits from.”

“Bottom line it for us,” I said. They said that at the station all the time. I hoped it meant what I thought it meant.

No one laughed at me, and Chip told us the absolute minimum requirements for the teachers to grant the final credits. “Three book reports for English, and one science fair project.”

“Mr. Peacock says you already know as much as Conrad does,” Chrissy said.

“Not a surprise,” I nodded.

“Really,” Electra agreed.

“He just feels that he can’t honorably give you the credits without a project.”

I’d fulfilled my science fair requirement by being a test subject for someone else’s project. All I had to do was drink stuff and tell them what I tasted. I was quite willing to be a test subject for Electra, of course. If this was something she wanted. But she was looking anxious. Scared? What did she have to be scared of?

I couldn’t imagine a thing. Which didn’t make her fear any less real. I mean, I could feel it, I just couldn’t get any idea of the cause. Something about the work or the idea of a diploma, or maybe walking across the stage? Whatever it was, it loomed large in my little sylph’s brain.

She was curling in on herself, hugging her arms in close. Chrissy looked confused. Her big idea wasn’t being received with the enthusiasm she’d expected. Chip looked worried.

So, my Electra Is Scared Go-To Solution (Patent Pending) was called for.

“No,” I said.

“What?” Chip asked.

“WHAT?” Chrissy yelped.

“The FUCK!?” Electra shouted.



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Index

30. Hearing

32. Denial