The Emergency



So, the two of us were on the same page, really, with the choices we’d made. But Electra still agonized over the reaction.

I, uh… Well, I ran home to Mom.

One day I brought the latest batch of letters back from the studio and let her reach some of the choicer ones. The outliers on the bell curve.

Electra paced on the table while Mom silently picked them up, read them, put them down in another stack.

Then she got up and made two phone calls. She called Dad and asked if he could bring home a speaker phone.

Electra ran over to me. I lifted her to my ear and she said “Your father asked if this was the emergency.”

“Not ‘an’ emergency?” I asked.

“NO!”

Mom said yes and hung up. Then she made a long-distance call. Electra reported that it was to the President Anthony Memorial Library in California. At least, whoever answered the phone said it was.

Mom gave her name and said it was an emergency. The person on the other end checked a list and read out a phone number that Mom wrote down. She said thank you and hung up.

Very cloak and dagger. Very ‘the wind is in the buffalo’ sort of thing.

She didn’t call the new number or answer any questions about it.

A few hours later, Dad showed up with a speaker phone. Mom hooked it up while he read through the letters. Then Mom explained that Electra was upset and unsure if she should apologize or retract or promise never to do it again, or what.

And that I was no help.

He nodded. “I think this qualifies.”

Mom dialed the number. “Anthony residence, may I help you?”

“This is Conrad and Electra Loudon,” Mom said. Electra gasped. “And we need to talk to Samantha and Amelia.”

“Wait a moment, please,” they said. I don’t think I was breathing for a moment, there.

“Conrad?” Samantha’s voice asked.

“Um, yeah, hi,” I replied.

“And Electra?” Amelia’s kinda squeaky voice asked. I’d become so used to our special sylph set-ups, this was really jarring. But I wasn’t so jarred that I didn’t react. I lifted Electra down to the speaker.

“Hi, Amelia!” she shouted.

“Your parents gave you the emergency number, I take it,” Samantha said.

“Nothing so straightforward, but yeah,” I said.

“What’s the problem?” Amelia asked.

“I, uh…” Electra hesitated. I knew instantly that she was worried about unburdening her problems onto someone else, someone she respected.

“She got hate mail for having Passion Cake Sylphs on the show,” I said.

“Hate? Christ on a pogo stick with an all-nurse band,” Samantha exclaimed. “That was a great episode!”

“They came across as people!” Amelia added.

“But… But… People are saying…” I reached out to put a finger in the small of her back, just to let her know I was there. Dad made encouraging gestures. Mom just smiled.

And Electra let loose. She listed every nasty comment, every bit of pompous advice, every insult. And a few thoughts she’d been having independent of the morons who’d been writing.

“I dunno,” she asked, “am I doing something wrong?”

“Wrong in what way?” Amelia asked.

“Am I doing something that hurts sylphs? Or is it arrogant to wonder if anything I do affects sylphs at all? Or can I even ask that question?

“I know,” she started to pace, “the Sylph Act screws sylphs over… And I want to help, but I’m just talking, where you’re trying to actually fight the Act. Do you… Does that make sense?”

“Oh, sweetie,” Amelia said. “You treat every sylph you meet as a human being. No one can ask for more.”

“We’re not looking for a Messiah,” Samantha said. “Or a Supergirl. We just want to keep plugging away at that whole ‘sylphs are still human’ idea. And you guys do that!”

“We are very proud of what you’re doing, Electra,” Amelia said. “And the best part is, you’re clearly very sincere. So keep that up! Okay?”

Electra was quiet. I figured she needed a moment to think and silence was kind of a burden over the phone line.

“I do have to ask,” I said. “When you said ‘screws sylphs over’ you looked at me and mouthed ‘nothing personal.’ What did you mean by that?”

“Shut up, Conrad,” Mom said.

“She looked RIGHT AT me! You couldn’t get any more personal!”

“Would you like an engraved invitation to shut up?” Dad asked in a dangerous tone.

“He’s fine,” Electra said. Everyone calmed. She thanked the Anthony’s for listening to her silly fears. They assured her none of it was silly, and ordered me to give my sylph a hug.

“Okay,” I said, “as long as it’s not personal.”

“Shut up, Conrad,” Electra said as I picked her up.



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Index

52. People Are Scum

54. Psychisylph