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Notes: Final story posted in September 1999. Thanks to Dawn C. for the beta review. This is dedicated to all the new writers out there. Don't be surprised if you recognize yourself ....

by Calie

"What's going on in here, Chief?" Jim shrugged out of his heavy jacket and brushed off a few lingering snowflakes from his cropped hair.

"Oh, hey, man," Blair replied, waving his left hand somewhere in the direction of the front door. He was hunched over the table, squinting at his computer screen through the late-afternoon gloom of the unlit loft. "I'm logged onto that anthropology discussion list  --  you know, the one I got interested in a few months ago?"   

"Interested in!" Jim snorted. "Try obsessed -- you hardly do anything else lately except sit at that damn computer reading messages. So, what happened to that article on closed societies you posted -- get a good reaction to it?"   

"Uh, well, that's just it. I haven't exactly posted it yet. You see, I'm not sure -- "   

"What's wrong? I thought you were looking forward to getting some constructive feedback. Computer problem?"   

Blair's loose hair flew in a circle as he turned in his chair to face Jim. "You don't understand how these discussion groups work.  See, they're actually self-contained societies, with established cultures and practices, extensive histories, hierarchies -- "   

"That's ridiculous. It's just a group of people interested in the same topic. Not a big deal. I'm sure they'll have some useful comments for you."

"Jim, it's just not that simple. This is a pretty sharp group. You should see the level of articulate, thoughtful discussion that goes on here. I mean, I've already seen five other articles on closed societies -- really good ones, too. Everything I want to say, well, it's like it's already been covered. I just can't seem to find an original subject, and it seems sort of insulting to use someone else's ideas. Plus there's this whole beta reader issue, not to mention archives, all kinds of details to sort out...."   

"Let me get this straight." Jim's blue eyes pierced his friend. "You can face down an armed gunman, you can jump out of a plane, you can outwit a serial killer, but you're afraid of sending an article to a group of people you don't know and can't even see. Even though you're an experienced professional whose been writing for years."  

Blair sighed, shaking his head slightly. "It's well documented that a period of acclimation is required before joining -- " 

"Have you even written that article yet?"   

Blair's eyes slid away as his cheeks reddened. "Rome wasn't built in a day, man."   

"And if it were up to you, Nero, we'd still be living in caves, waiting for some perfect alignment of the stars to start civilization."   

The pencil missed his head by a good three inches.

Jim stood in the loft's front doorway, slowly scanning the darkened room. A pile of unfolded laundry sat on the couch. Bags of groceries lined the kitchen counter. A blast of cold spring rain blew in through an open window. Pieces of paper were scattered around the table and empty water bottles littered the floor. The only light was the soft glow of the laptop screen, the only sound the uneven tapping of computer keys.

In the midst of this chaos was a mop of long curly hair and a green plaid shirt.

"Still working on that article, Chief?" He was rewarded with a small gasp as Blair jumped in his chair.

"Man, you almost gave me a heart attack! Hey, Jim, this is going great. I had a real breakthrough here." Blair leaned forward and gestured wildly at the screen. "See, I've been reading over some of the old postings and I figured out a new angle for my article, well, not a new angle really, more of a different perspective, where I can bring together my ideas about -- "

Blair abruptly stopped and glanced up as his roommate suddenly loomed over him and inhaled in several short, sharp bursts.

"What are you... are you sniffing me, man? What's wrong with you?"

Jim's ice blue eyes stabbed him. "You taking narcotics?"

"Narcotics! What... are you crazy? You know I don't do drugs!"

"Yeah, well, you're over the edge here. I've seen addicts with more self-control than you have with this internet thing."

"Oh, man, that hurts. That is really low. I told you before, this is just something I do to -- "

"--  relax. Right. Spare me the obfuscation. Let's see." Jim ticked the points off on his fingers. "One, you're hardly at the station anymore. Two, you've stopped attending those crazy lectures at school you used to try to drag me to. Three, this place is a mess. Four -- "

"All right, I get the idea." Blair raised his arms in supplication. "But this is really no different than, say, you following all the Jags games so closely. I mean, I understand the warrior mentality and all that, and your need to maintain identification with your chosen sub-culture, and, um... you know, the whole sublimation thing...."

Jim's eyebrow's raised in disbelief. "Really?" He stared at his friend for a long moment until Blair frowned and dropped his eyes. "You can't stop, can you?"

"Everything's under control here, man. I've just got to process a little."

Jim gazed down at the bowed head, noticing the lines of exhaustion etched in the slumped frame. "Okay, that's it. From now on you can take this party somewhere else." He leaned down to flick the power-off switch but was stopped by Blair's look of horror.

"Jim, that's crazy, you can't just... you don't understand, it's not that easy...."

"New house rule, Chief. Pull yourself together and stop driving me nuts." His hand remained poised over the switch. "Or I'll figure out a way to reboot you."

Blair's muttered response was inaudible to all but sentinel ears.

The sun warmed his face as Jim lay on the soft carpet of grass and sighed with contentment. The dazzling summer morning provided a rich tapestry to his heightened senses. The sky was a vast, limitless blue bowl, unmarred by clouds or haze. Tiny gnats danced in shafts of golden sunlight. A gentle breeze tickled his nose with the sweet fragrances of honeysuckle and rose. The only sounds breaking the peaceful stillness were the quiet chirps of robins, the rustle of glowing green leaves, the whisper of butterfly wings... and the incessant tapping of computer keys.

"Sandburg! I thought we came here to relax!"

"I am relaxed, Jim."

"I got three words for you, Junior. Control, alt, delete. You or the computer -- your choice."

"Sure, sure. Like you're the big expert on relaxation, anyway." Blair set aside his laptop, albeit with sharp, resentful motions, and then lay back on the grass with an open book propped up on his stomach, apparently intending to read.

For a few blessed minutes, all was quiet, and Jim fell into a light doze. He imagined himself on a small sailboat, skimming lightly over the bay, the light wind carrying the tang of salt and the cry of gulls, one hand holding the roughened line attached to the billowing sail, the other lightly guiding the tiller... isolated and free... except for the distant sound of a powerboat, the humming engine barely discernible... but now closer, louder... the vibrations carrying right through the fiberglass hull under his feet... oddly rhythmic... like a bad engine, or... or....

"Damn it, Sandburg!" He shot up, completely awake now, incredulous eyes on his roommate who was once again tapping away on the laptop. "What could possibly be so important that you're willing to risk certain death?"

Blair waved a hand in dismissal. "I'm just trying to finish up a thought here. I need to keep going while the creative energy's flowing."

"It's that stupid article again, isn't it?"

Blair sighed dramatically. "Yes, and I can't even hear myself think if you keep shouting like that."

"How long is this thing, anyway?"

"Uh, I don't know, it could be... maybe forty... or sixty... well, I'm not really sure, I still need to, uh...."

"I get the picture, Tolstoy. But do you have to work on it every single minute we're together?"

"Jim!" Blair was now looking at him with open admiration. "Did you actually read -- "

"Sure, I had a regular routine, one chapter a day, right in between the latest issues of Guns and Ammo and Penthouse." He leaned back on his elbows, smirking at the look of amazement on Blair's face.

It was so satisfying to know that, even after three years together, he could still surprise his partner with something other than his senses.

"Hey, Chief." Jim was standing in the kitchen, stirring a pot of sauce, when his roommate flew through the front doorway. "You missed the big news. We finally got a conviction on McKay. DA thinks she can get life with no parole." He shuddered slightly as he rubbed his forehead, remembering the grisly murders that had terrorized Cascade for months. Now, finally, a corner of his world was safe again. "Man, I'm glad that's over."

"Ah, yeah, that's nice." Blair's cheeks were flushed, his eyes glowed and he hummed with such a palpable sense of energy that it appeared he was about to burst out of his own skin. He dropped his backpack on the floor and dashed into the kitchen. "Man! You would not believe what happened today!" His whirling arms struck and overturned the pile of mail stacked neatly on the counter.

"Watch what you're doing!" Jim laid the spoon on a dish, careful to position it so it could not drip onto the spotless tile, then bent down to collect the fallen papers. "Didn't you hear me? We put away a serial killer today. What the hell is more important than that?"

"Sorry. No, that's great news. It's just...." Blair picked up the last few magazines, stacked them haphazardly on top of the mail, then dashed back toward the front door and fished some papers out of his backpack. "Look at these!" He waved them in Jim's direction. "Feedback -- on an article I posted -- look at it!"

Jim couldn't help but smile at the infectious grin on Blair's face. "That is good news. Congratulations, Professor. So, I assume it was all positive?"

"Even better, I got a few suggestions on how to improve what I wrote. Should make writing that article a whole lot easier, now that I -- "

"Whoa! I thought you said you posted your article? Isn't that what the feedback's for?"

"No way, man. This was just a small review article -- and that was hard enough, let me tell you -- "

"No, please don't." Jim could already feel the tapping of an impending headache deep inside his skull. "Just tell me that you're gonna finish this thing before the next millennium "

Blair's smile widened as he backed toward the relative safety of his room. "Come on, you know me and commitment... anyway, the new millennium begins in only, like, four months, unless of course you're a purist, in which case it technically begins in January of 2001, which gives me over a year to finish, and that should be plenty of time, unless you keep bugging me... you know, you're just like a broken record sometimes... hey, man, watch what you're doing... Jim... Jim!"

All comments, feedback and critiques are sincerely welcome at:

caliewolf@eudoramail.com

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