Heads and Tails

Over the following couple of weeks, it came to Gerard’s attention just how weird his new roommate really was. It hadn’t really been said that Frank was living there, and his name wasn’t on the register as living in Gerard’s room so they were probably going to get a bit of hassle as soon as the regulating bodies decided to check up on them, but it was wordlessly agreed by all four of them that he was no longer living with Andy and that Gerard was no longer living with Pete. This was really only obvious by the fact that Gerard hadn’t seen much of Pete or Andy since that first day they met each other. Frank said he’d seen them a couple of times on-campus, but Gerard hadn’t seen them on campus at all. Having said that though, Gerard hadn’t really been on campus all that much, something he vowed to repair as soon as possible as to avoid getting kicked out and going back to Earth.

Then again, going back to Earth wasn’t looking like such a bad idea to him at the moment. He liked his roommates and there were a few people he’d met outside the halls in the main college building that he hoped he’d meet again, but none of that could erase his homesickness completely. He missed his mom and he missed Mikey and probably most of all he missed his basement, and his bed. He had his sketchbook, which was a plus, and he’d already done a few sketches of Pete and Andy and quite a few more of Frank, unsurprisingly, but he often found himself holding a pencil or a black marker and longing for it to be a paintbrush. He knew painting would help him no end, if not to cure his homesickness but to make an attempt at breaking the tension between him and Frank that had somehow built up over nothing, maybe by impressing him a little and having some real conversation. Frank seemed like he was probably a little artistic, and he’d already mentioned that he played guitar. Gerard had managed a few glances at the thing on the rare occasions that Frank takes it out of its case. Gerard didn’t know much about guitars, but he knew art, and the guitar was nothing if not art. It had curves unlike anything Gerard had ever seen before and blended, non-bordered colours that wove into each other hypnotically. The colours weren’t within the range of hues that you’d expect to find on any kind of musical instrument – in any case, the colour combinations were some of the ugliest Gerard could think of: deep purples, peachy oranges and strange, almost-teal blues that miraculously managed to blend in such a way that it didn’t come across as a cheesy hippie design at all, which was what you’d normally associate with those colours. Instead the pattern managed to be almost ethereal and out-of-the-world, so much so that Gerard had to know:

“Where’d you get that?”

Frank had shrugged and said, “A friend sold it to me. Don’t know where it’s from,” without even bothering to make eye contact or even turn towards Gerard at all.

Gerard had answered with an appreciative hum before internally evaluating the black, non-glossy borders that framed the body of the instrument nicely. “Research,” he suggested.

Frank shrugged again. Gerard had learned that he did that a lot. “Dunno, I don’t know if I really care. It’s not like I’m gonna sell it or anything.”

“Nah,” Gerard agreed. “It’s too pretty.”

Frank stopped, and finally made eye contact, shooting him a simultaneously scrutinising and curious look. “You’re the only person who’s ever described it as pretty.” He paused briefly. “Other than girls.”

Gerard sighed amusedly. “I get that a lot.”

“Get what a lot?”

“People telling me I’m like a girl. I look like one.”

Frank knitted his eyebrows together. “I didn’t say you looked like a girl.”

Gerard laughed. “I do though, right?”

Frank made a painfully obvious hesitation and a smile before saying, “Of course not.”

Gerard raised an eyebrow, smirked, and said with his eyes, “You know I do,” before quickly fleeing as subtly as possible to the bedroom to try to pretend that it never happened.

- - - - - - - - - -
“What do you make of Frank?” Andy asked Pete in the privacy of their half of the house while also trying to devote as little attention as possible to what he was saying in favour of paying more attention to the vicious game of Generic First-Person Shooter on the television screen and blasting Pete’s head off. Andy’s words distracted Pete, giving Andy those few precious seconds to aim and fire. Pete swore.

“I don’t know, man!” he whined, muttered, “Fuck you.”

“I’m just saying.” Head shot. Epic. “Aw, I rule.”

“You’re just saying?”

“I’m just saying that Frank’s weird.”

“Your mom’s weird.”

- - - - - - - - - -
One week and five days later and the term was about to begin. In all honesty, Gerard couldn’t be more frightened. He’d met a few of the professors on campus – they had all been instructed to try to mingle with the students a little to create a false sense of familiarity before term – and one of them had been Professor Shellman. Gerard didn’t care for Mr. Shellman one little bit. He was snide and judgemental, which could be called a harsh assumption after speaking to him for less than three minutes or a good generous slice of irony, but Gerard felt it was a correct assumption and well-called for. The professor’s attire did nothing for his character but to create the typical image of a strict English teacher or mathematician with nothing better to do with their time than to critique novels silently to themselves or look down their noses at inferiors, and Gerard couldn’t help but also assume that he was in fact an English or math teacher. The feeling of seriousness that surrounded the man was so powerful that Gerard completely forgot that they were at an art college, and that there was no way or reason for there to be an English or math professor on campus at all. It was only when they received their timetables through the community servers, displayed them on the television screen and Gerard saw that underneath the vast majority of his academic blocks the word ‘SHELLMAN’ was printed adamantly and insistently, that it clicked that Mr. Shellman taught art, and Gerard thought he might have actually heard the thump as his stomach dropped straight into his foot.

And really, Gerard was almost certain that things couldn’t get any worse when he had a message from college services telling him that he was expected to supply his own art materials to all classes. He had the time to buy all the stuff, just, but he didn’t have the money, and this wasn’t something that a quick call to his mother and a grovel couldn’t fix, but he didn’t like to grovel and he didn’t like to ask anything of his mom, after all she’d already done for him and all the money she’d already spent to get him to this college, not to mention this planet, in the first place. In the end, he made the call and his mother had absolutely no reservations about putting some money into his bank account for him by the next day, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still feel bad about it. She didn’t even ask him to pay it back someday, and rejected his offer of doing so. But he allowed it, and the following morning he made his way into the city (via the strange tube-like system Patrick had demonstrated to him, which Gerard was beginning to get the hang of) clad in a fluffy winter coat which Frank had loaned him and supplied himself with some paint brushes, some watercolours, some oils, some chalks and artist pastels, a nice set of pencils and a handy carry-case which was nice and compact and designed to carry everything he needed. It had a side-wallet for sheets of paper and a set of little hooks for attaching an portfolio case onto the side, which was a useful reminder and he bought one of those as well, and left the store feeling quite proud of himself for accomplishing the entire task in under half an hour, and ultimately happy that this meant he wouldn’t miss the “pasta lunch of a lifetime” that Frank claimed to be preparing. Frank really liked pasta. Gerard liked pasta too, and this had nothing to do with the fact that Frank did, definitely not.

But, of course, Gerard was rarely correct in his judgements, and things most definitely could get worse, something he discovered on his first college day, purely because Professor Shellman turned out to be even more unbearable than he’d first appeared. The first day of college wasn’t really a college day, more an introductions day, which made things worse because Gerard was getting impatient. He wanted to get on with painting and drawing and doing things, but he couldn’t even see the classroom he’d be working in, because they’d all been led straight from where they were told to meet up in the gardens to a separate building for yet another talk with all the other art students. The building was older and more draughty, seeing as none of the doors were doubled up to create air-locks against the coldness outside, and there were simply not enough anti-freezing motors for the colder-than-anywhere-on-Earth climate, which sucked because Gerard hadn’t bothered with a winter coat this time, and sat through the entire thing with his hands stuffed in his pockets for warmth, something that Professor Shellman displayed his dislike for in the form of regular scowling and sharp stares, but thankfully didn’t pick him out on.

Fortunately him, it was Frank to the rescue again. He received a message from him just as lunch break was starting – at the same time for everyone in the first year, as everyone was having introductions – saying, ‘courtyrd now, awesome day, need to tell u all about it’, and even though he wasn’t entirely sure that hearing about how much fun someone else was having would improve his own mood in the long run, he didn’t hesitate to be the first person to leave the building.

When he found Frank, though, he also found that he wasn’t alone. He was leaning on one of the patterned white walls of the main building, just next to the main steps, talking to a very colourful man. Visually, that was – his hair was spiked up and out at seemingly random angles, mostly down the middle of the scalp in an almost-mohawk, and streaks of colour were placed equally random amongst them. His clothes weren’t particularly colourful; he wore a white shirt with a navy tie and a pair of tight-fitting black jeans which were long enough to cover the back of his heel and rumple slightly at the front quite fashionably, but his shoes were probably the most colourful shoes Gerard had seen, sporting neon green, pink and purple in a way which, like Frank’s guitar, shouldn’t have been fashionable.

“Gerard, hey! I need to introduce you to someone.” Frank was beaming as Gerard approached, looking like he’d found the first Easter egg in the hunt. Now that Gerard was closer, he could see the stranger’s face with more detail, and he saw that it was half-covered on one side with markings, almost like tattoos, except they weren’t designs that Gerard consider having, if he had been okay with having a needle anywhere near him. One of the designs looked like an interlocking chain of purple vines, with small red flowers protruding here and there, extending from over his ear to under his left eye. The art was more precise than Gerard had ever seen on a tattoo. Frank said, “Gerard, this is,” followed by what Gerard assumed was supposed to be the stranger’s name, but couldn’t have even hoped to have caught when it had so many strange vowel sounds and odd noises.

“Sorry? I didn’t catch that,” Gerard admitted.

“Chezlik,” Frank replied, more clearly this time, and Gerard thought he had it right now. It still had weird sounds – the ‘k’ was kind of rounded out into a slightly different consonant and the entire word was spat out rather violently. The ‘e’ sound almost sounded like an ‘i’ sound from how fast the name was said.

“Chezlik?” Gerard turned to the stranger, who smiled widely, causing Gerard to consider reeling back from the shock of seeing the teeth in the front of the man’s jaw – the canines and semi-canines of his top jaw were unnaturally sharp and longer than normal, almost predatory. “Whoa,” he couldn’t hold himself back from saying.

“Yes, that is it,” Chezlik said, laughing warmly, and immediately Gerard was taken aback again by the accent – it was unlike anything he’d ever heard before. “I do not bite.”

All Gerard found himself doing was nodding slowly, so Frank took it upon himself to explain. “Gerard,” he began, leaning in slightly. “Chezlik isn’t human,” he said, almost like it was a secret, but he didn't whisper, and his grin was huge.

“Ah,” Gerard said with some uncertainty, but only because he was unsure how exactly to start a conversation with an alien. He’d never exactly had to do it before. “So, where are you from?” Gerard asked, as if he didn’t already know.

Chezlik didn’t reply. Instead, he gave Gerard a knowing smile and looked pointedly into the sky, indicating towards the alien sun far in the distance, just a little larger to the eye than Earth’s sun was if you looked at it. Within the sun’s light, though, there was a small circular shadow, not large but not something a person would miss when paying attention, slightly to the right and to the top of the fiery blotch.

“Epsilon Eridani B,” Frank spoke Gerard’s thoughts aloud. “He’s been telling me all about it. He’s gonna be helping me with my studies in multiculture.”

Gerard nodded. “Nice. Do, um,” he started to Chezlik, but from what he already knew of the man, or person, at least, namely that he was an alien and had a tendency not to say much and rather use gestures, he wasn’t quite sure where to start. “Does Chezlik want to hang around with us?”

Gerard had directed the question at Chezlik, but he hadn’t seemed to take it how Gerard had intended, and his expression wavered before he frowned in insult. “I am right here, Gerard.”

“No, Chezlik,” Frank laughed. “He was talking to you, it’s just a figure of speech.”

Chezlik’s eyes went wide for a moment, and he said, “I apologise. Idioms are... difficult. I think I would like to spend some more time with you, yes.”

Gerard smiled, first to Chezlik, then to Frank in a way that almost said, “Help me out next time, yeah?”

They headed off towards the centre of the grassy area and approached a bench, by the large decorative fountain, being used and surrounded by a group of students. Gerard gave Frank a look, and Frank explained, “Yes, I have more people for you to meet.”

Gerard laughed, “You got so unlucky with your room mate. I must be the least popular person on this planet, seriously, or that other one we used to live on.”

"We?" Frank asked, before changing the subject. “People will like you once they know you, Gerard,” Frank reassured him, a hand coming over to squeeze his shoulder, and Gerard was caught off-guard by the shiver it sent through him. “Don’t be too frightened of all the scary students!” Frank mocked.

- - - - - - - - - - -
Chezlik turned out to really be quite a great guy. His English wasn’t great, but considering he was extra-terrestrial, that could be forgiven, and when he and Frank began to tell Gerard all about Epsilon Eridani B, Chezlik seemed very proud, and Frank was enthusiastic, and all of that energy that was radiating from Frank was probably being transferred to Gerard somehow, because he couldn't get enough of the stories. Chezlik was vegetarian, like all other Protogeans, and when Gerard asked if it was a religious thing, Chezlik said that it was nothing to do with faith, but simply down to most of the animal life on the planet being poisonous and it being far too dangerous to risk any of it.

"We do not have religion. It is a ridiculous concept when science is so definite," Chezlik told him. "It fascinates me, the science. Especially with humans. You will have to tell me more about yourselves, I know little. Is everyone so tall?"

Frank laughed. "Not me. But most humans are taller than Protogeans." He turned to Gerard. "Protogeans are shorter than humans, on average. Our height is about average on that planet," he finished with a snigger.

"We'd fit right in then," Gerard joked, but was quickly corrected by Chezlik.

"You would not fit in at all. I doubt you would survive. The weather is so harsh, and the life so brutal. To us, it is normal, but many humans die there. You wish to go there?"

Gerard shrugged and looked at his lap. "I don't know, maybe. If I could have a protective bubble, I'd love to. Is that why people aren't allowed down there? The danger?"

"No." Chezlik said slowly, and shook his head. He looked off into the distance somewhere, quite solemn. "There are... political issues. People were allowed down there, once. Now they are not."

Frank turned back to the conversation from where he'd drifted off and become distracted by something. "What kind of political issues?" He seemed serious.

"There is conflict."

"Why?" Frank pursued.

"Discrimination. I think - is that the word to use?"

Frank looked away. "Oh." He seemed in a state of shock, like it was important to him. He thought for a moment, and then turned back to Chezlik. "Of who?"

Chezlik stared him down for a moment, as if calculating him, but turned his attention back to the landscape and sighed inwardly. "Both sides are responsible, I suppose. It would be biased to say that it was humans to blame."

"No it wouldn't," Gerard said with certainty.

Chezlik glanced at him, curious. "How not so?"

"Humans are nasty pieces of work sometimes," Gerard said, his voice as honest as he could make it. "There's discrimination all over the place. People are bullied because of the colour of their skin, their nationality, their gender. Seriously, I wouldn't be surprised if it was our government who had been the first to throw stones."

"Yeah. I agree with Gerard, Chezlik," Frank interjected. "We're afraid of the unknown. From what I can tell from my classes, you love to explore the unknown, find out more. Your people kind of, well... You embrace it, you know? We just like to destroy it, because we feel threatened by it." Frank stopped, corrected himself. "Well, some people. The people who are in charge. We're not threatened."

Chezlik took it all in, and nodded. "It makes sense. Your human authorities, they come to my house sometimes."

Gerard leaned in, concerned. "They come to your house?"

"Yes. Those people, the officers."

Frank nodded and said to Gerard, "The E.E.A.O., Epsilon Eridani Alien Operations. They monitor alien life on this planet, keep tabs on it."

"They come to my house, and they steal things. They use guns which hurt, a lot. They beat my brothers."

Gerard was stunned. He said nothing for a while, before saying in more of a rash tone than he'd intended, "They do what?"

Chezlik looked at him for a moment, confused. He went to speak, but Frank interrupted him. "He heard you, Chez. He's just shocked. Do they beat you?"

Chezlik hesitated, and then, "Yes."

"Why?" Gerard said, his tone escalating. "What did you do wrong?"

"Nothing. I didn't do anything."

There was silence for a few moments. Nobody really knew what to say. Gerard stared ahead at him at the other people in the courtyard, people going on for as far as he could see, and they all looked happy enough that nothing could go wrong. But things could go wrong, and they were, somewhere else behind closed doors. It didn't seem feasible that something so demeaning could be happening in what he'd been convinced was the most utopian part of human society. It was supposed to be a place where humankind came together with other life, not a place to make war with it. While Gerard was making his contemplations, Chez was fidgeting nervously on the other side of Frank, who had gone almost completely still, making eye contact with Gerard over Chezlik's hunched posture. Gerard met his gaze for a few seconds, frowning in the few he had, before Frank broke the silence.

"I'm really sorry, Chez."

"Sorry for what?" Chezlik replied. He still sounded nervous, as if he was afraid he might say something to provoke them. Or maybe Gerard was just imagining that in his tone of voice.

"For what they've done to you." Frank kept his eyes locked with Chez', and he was wearing the most honest expression Gerard had ever seen on him, as if he was hoping Chez would understand.

"Is not your fault, Frank," Chez said with a little more confidence.

"No, I know, I didn't mean- I meant to say, Chez... I hope it doesn't happen again."

"I do too. But it will. I will be fine, they will not kill me. I am registered."

"Jesus," hissed Gerard on impulse. Was it that bad that the guy was pleased that they weren't going to kill him? Was it so bad that sometimes there were actual casualties? Chezlik shot him a wary look in response to the noise – he probably hadn't heard the word before. But he must have dismissed it, because his expression faded again and he stood to leave.

"I must go now, I have English class. It was nice speaking to you both."

"Yeah, you too, Chezlik," Gerard said. Frank nodded to Chezlik as he left, and when the man got to the kind of distance where Gerard reasoned they would be out of earshot, he said to Frank, "Where can I sign up for that class?"

Frank's eyebrows shot up. "You want to learn English?"

"No," he laughed. "The multiculture one."

"You're really taking this seriously, huh?"

"Yeah." Gerard shot him a look. "Why wouldn't I?"

"No reason. Just that most people don't tend to ask about it again. They usually stay out of the way of the entire subject. It's good you want to get involved." The two of them stood in unison when the end-of-session chime sounded and made their way towards the main building, where Frank's multiculture class was about to start. "You can sit in if you like. Dr. Zhenjé won't mind, he's pretty laid back, and he'll have no problems if you tell him you're thinking of joining the class. He loves new students."

"Dr. Zhenjé?" Gerard asked as they entered the building.

"Yeah. He's Protogean too, although you couldn't tell. He's a bit eccentric, but then, I haven't met a teacher here who isn't. Good guy though. Patient, and a lot smarter than any human you'll meet." They took the stairs to the second floor at a jog, and with the floors having such high ceilings, it was a long way to jog, and Gerard was almost winded by the time they reached Frank's classroom. Frank didn't seem to be even a little out of breath. "So, you game?"

He studied the classroom door for a moment, noted the more-than-modern mechanisms and the triple panes, and knew that the room would be a warm one. "Yeah, why not."