Mus Numena 8: Not a Date (Patreon)

By lunchtime, they’d made it well past the edge of the San Francisco Bay Area, continuing east up into the Sierra Foothills. Ted didn’t have a plan beyond “get somewhere farther off the radar,” and small towns in Gold Country seemed like better targets than even the smallest town near Silicon Valley.

Since he didn’t have a plan, he couldn’t say that he hadn’t planned for Aurora’s reaction to literally everything—although he felt like he should have, somehow, since until last night she’d seen literally nothing. But as the countryside changed, she watched it all, and as the flat prairie-like Central Valley in Manteca gave way to the foothills past Oakdale, her eyes widened. The first time they crested a hill and the actual Sierras appeared on the horizon, she audibly squealed. “Mountains!”

He nodded. “Yeah. I figured we might stop for lunch in Sonora. I remember this great Mexican—” He paused. “Not that I can take you into a restaurant. Uh, we’ll figure something out.”

As a creek began to parallel the highway, first on his side of the car and then under the roadbed to reappear on her side, she watched raptly. “This is all incredible!” She smiled happily down at him. “The world outside is incredible.”

Ted smiled. “I…huh. I guess it can be.”

“Would you take me into a restaurant if you could?” she asked after a moment.

“Sure.”

“Would that be a date?”

He almost choked on his spit. “I…uh.” He squinted up at her. “How do you know about dates?”

She looked self-conscious, as if worried that she’d overstepped a boundary. “There are a lot of romance stories out on the internet. Many of them are between men and women. Mostly all human and human.” Her ears swiveled. “Although not all. You make up a lot of different…what do you call them? Fantasy races?”

Ted laughed uneasily. “I think maybe we shouldn’t have this conversation right now, Aurora.”

She looked down again. “I am sorry.”

“No, no, don’t be. It’s a sweet question. You’re just so…” He tried to think of a word. “…open.”

“Is that good?”

“Probably.” He tilted his head. “Kind of a weird thought, but you can make yourself bigger, and change your form, and even make yourself look clothed. Can you make yourself look human?”

Her eyes grew unfocused. “I don’t think so,” she said after a few seconds. “Would you like me better that way?”

“That’s not what I mean. I’m more thinking if we have to hide, or just blend in with a group of humans, a beautiful seven-foot tall mouse woman is probably not the right look.” What? Oh, shit, Ted, did you just tell her she was beautiful right after you said not to have a conversation about dates because she’s a mouse and—

“Oh. Yes, I see.” She looked at him intently. “But would you like me better that way?”

Well, now you’ve stepped in it, idiot. He looked at her, opened his mouth, closed it, then sighed in resignation. “No. I wouldn’t. I like you the way you are.”

Aurora beamed. “I’m happy to hear that.”

Ted tried to keep himself from blushing at her smile. “So. Uh. Maybe we can stop and get sandwiches. I think there’s an old school Italian deli somewhere up here. We can have a picnic lunch.”

She nodded.

“I’d ask if you like Italian sandwiches, but, uh, I get the impression you’ll try almost anything.”

“I’ve liked almost everything so far.”

As they drove into town, she kept looking around, taking in everything. He didn’t have the heart to ask her to stop being noticeable. He pulled off to the side of the road to park for a moment. “Okay, I can look up…oh, wait.” The phone was still off. The moment he turned it on, he’d be findable, wouldn’t he? “I don’t suppose you know how to make a cell phone untraceable,” he muttered.

“Turn it on and let me see.”

He did so, handing the phone over.

She took it, turned it over several times, then put her finger on the USB-C port. It shimmered and sank into the phone. After about thirty seconds, the phone’s screen went blank, then returned to its boot logo. She handed the phone back.

He stared. “What did you just do?”

“We generated a new subscriber identity number for the phone.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“Myself and two other mice. One had access to your phone company’s internal network and another knew the proper algorithms.”

“Oh.” He looked at the phone bemusedly, and started searching for a restaurant. “How many Dynamice know that I’m with you?”

“All of them.”

“Well, that’s not a lot of pressure,” he muttered. “Okay, this place looks good.” He headed out toward a strip mall Italian deli a few miles away. “Do you like…uh. What have you had apart from what I’ve shared with you and the mouse kibble they have at the lab?”

“Sometimes dried apple and carrot bits. But mostly the pellets.” She sounded a little sour about it.

“Okay. I keep being worried that I’m going to offer you food that’ll make you sick, but I also feel like you could eat just about anything.” He grunted. “Which I think would actually make you a lousy experimental subject.”

“That can be adjusted in the control application.”

He blinked a few times. “You have…oh, right.” He probably had an earlier version of the app on his phone, didn’t he? He pulled it out, frowning, and opened the app. “This.” He showed it to her.

She nodded, and looked at him warily. “I did not know you had that.”

“I’d forgotten, honestly. I’ve never used it except in testing mode. I don’t think I like the idea of this being able to affect you.”

“I don’t, either. It’s something we are trying to find ways to…” She waved her hand in a startlingly human motion. “To disconnect? To break? To override?”

Ted lifted a brow. “You can do that?”

“Maybe. I am in… I am trying to find the right words. It is a…mode? Prompts that restrict our abilities need to be explicitly given, and we can prompt ourselves. It’s challenging to figure out the limits of that. But I think we can learn to break that control, so we can’t be shut down.”

He pulled into the strip mall’s parking lot. “That’s…” Frankly, that was terrifying, given what he’d seen her do already. He was pretty sure the Dynamice Max variants had the biological equivalent of a physical kill switch, though, which meant the Ultras likely did, too. Perhaps he should keep that under his metaphorical hat for now, though. “Good,” he finished, lamely. “I’m going to go in and get the food. I don’t want to tell you to stay out of sight, but, just keep in mind you might attract a lot of attention, and attention is the last thing we need right now.”

“All right.”

He found a spot in the lot that wasn’t too close to any other cars, and hurried to the deli, ordering a couple of grinders, a pasta salad to split, and two iced teas.

As he waited for the order, he checked the news on the phone. Nothing. Was that weird? Maybe it wasn’t. The company wouldn’t want news of the theft to get out, let alone a story that suggested their product—Aurora—might be smart as a human, surprisingly dangerous, and on the loose. But the hunt for both of them had to be underway now. Didn’t it? And he still didn’t have a plan. What he had was a takeout lunch and complicated feels.

The cashier called his number a minute later. He paid, picked up the bag and the two drinks, and headed back to the car.

It didn’t look like anyone had noticed Aurora yet, even though she’d opened her car door and stretched her long legs out, crossing her paws at the ankles. She’d also “removed” the jumpsuit look, returning to just her natural—if that was the right word—metallic fur. Ted suppressed a soft glurk noise and hurried over.

Before he said anything, she looked up apologetically. “I know I am not staying hidden, but the car was hot, and there are so many smells in the air here.”

He got back in the car, closing his door and waiting for her to do the same. “I’m not sure that I’m smelling much more than car exhaust, and now the sandwiches.”

“There’s so much more, if you have the nose for it.” She shut the door.

It took another few minutes for him to reach the park he’d seen a sign for on the way to the deli, and it was the perfect park for what he needed—a little off the beaten path, with picnic shelters set beside a creek and a magnificent view of actual mountains in the distance, the best view of them that Aurora would have gotten yet. As he parked, he started to point them out to her, but he didn’t need to. As soon as the car stopped moving, she got out, standing up to her full height and staring.

Shutting off the engine and setting the brake, Ted got out, too, sandwich bag and drinks in hand. “Let’s find a table.”

Aurora didn’t move as he started to walk away, so he stopped, looking back at her expectantly.

“It’s…” She slowly turned around in a circle, looking at everything. The park, the mountains, the trees, the creek, the houses across the road, the two other cars in the parking lot. But mostly at the mountains. Then, finally, at Ted. Her eyes glistened with tears.

“Beautiful.”

She nodded, stepping toward him. “The world is just so…so much.”

He held out a hand to her. Aurora looked at it curiously, then touched her hand to his. When he closed his lightly around hers, it took her a moment to match the movement, turning it into a hand-clasp. Then she smiled down at him.

Ted led her toward a picnic shelter, feeling disquietingly euphoric. Not a date not a date you are on the run with an alien mouse woman.

They took seats next to one another, facing the creek, and he set out the food and drinks. As he unwrapped his sandwich, she watched him with her usual intensity, all her attention focused on his actions, then unwrapped her own sandwich the same way.

“They call this sandwich a ‘grinder,’” he explained. “I don’t know why. It’s some kind of regional thing, I think. But it’s a couple of different cured meats, cheese, lettuce, tomato, dressings, all baked on what looks like a pretty good bread roll. I hope it’s good.” He shrugged and took a bite. “Mmmf. Yes. It’s good. I mean, tell me what you think.”

She sniffed it, copper-tinted nose wiggling, and took a cautious nibble. Then her eyes widened before she swallowed. “Ooh.” She took a bigger bite, then all but melted, leaning against Ted with a blissful expression.

“I’m guessing you like it.” Her weight was heavy, warm, and soft against his side. It took a surprising amount of willpower not to put an arm around her waist.

“I do!” She took another bite, then straightened up enough to poke him lightly in the side. “Why don’t they give us food like this at the lab?”

“I’m pretty sure they’d say it’s not healthy for mice.”

She lifted her brows, then looked at the sandwich from different angles. “I think…that is likely true for unmodified mice. But not for me.”

“You could probably eat the picnic table.”

“Probably,” she agreed, and took another bite of the grinder. “But I’m sure this is much better,” she said through the mouthful.

“I’d guess so.”

She swallowed, then tilted her head, looking distant.

“What is it?”

“You had asked about activist groups that were outside your company, and lawyers connected with them. We have been looking into that.”

“We…the other mice.”

“Yes. I think you’re about to get a phone call.”

He furrowed his brow. “What—”

His phone rang.