Blank Slate | ONC2023

Chapter Two: Don't Talk to Heroes

With bright blue hair, a navy leather jacket over a startlingly white shirt, a confident walk, and vibrant blue boots, he is the exact opposite of an unassuming and inconspicuous figure the name Dan suggests.

"It's good to see you!" Dan slides into a chair opposite me, dark eyes darting over my face. "How's life been treating you?"

"Fine enough." Keeping my expression cool, I lean back into my chair, pulse thudding in my ears. Calm down. You can do this—just act natural. Not that I know what natural looks like, but still.

Dan frowns, leaning one elbow on the table and flicking his gaze over my face. "Are you sure? You don't look so good, if you don't mind me saying."

"I'm fine. Work's just been stressing me out lately." As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I know they are a mistake.

Dan's expression clouds, brows wrinkling. "Oh? It was going great last time I heard. What changed?"

Shoot. Forcing my power down, I grab my sandwich and take a large bite that awakens a ravenous hunger. What can I tell him that he would believe? A change in boss? Office? Coworkers? The possibility of him knowing about those more than I do are too great, but switching topics would raise more red flags.

"I um..." I glance down at my plate. "...deleted an important file. And the backups."

"By accident?"

Eyes narrowing, I flick my gaze to him. "Of course." Does he suspect me of sabotage, the kind a villain would do? Is he on to me? Don't get ahead of yourself. He's just being a friend.

Dan nods slowly, smoothing back a strand of hair. "Can't you restore from the last save?"

"If I could, I would have already."

A flicker of movement lifts Dan's eyebrows. "Aren't there protocols that make it impossible to be unable to restore saves?"

Are there? All the things I remember about coding flash through my head, but none tell me of any protocols like that. Shoot. He knows more about coding—or at least my job—than I do!

Shaking my vision free of stray curls, I heave a sigh and pull my expression into what I hope is a somewhat guilty, weary look. "Look, it's complicated. Can we not talk about this?"

"Oh! Of course, of course." He smiles apologetically, his eyebrows arched over his eyes like two cresting waves, and briefly raises his hands in acquiescence. "You're probably sick of thinking about it. Sorry."

I nod and gather my thoughts, some tension leaking from my shoulders. Phew. Now I can ask my questions.

But just as I open my mouth, Dan speaks. "So, how's the plants coming along? Finally beat those aphids?"

The half smile freezes on my face. Aphids? I am a plant lover? Me? A villain? "Uhh..." Should I say they're gone? Still there? Multiplying? "...still fighting. They're almost gone."

Dan nods, adjusting his jacket. "About time. What about the Touch Me Nots?"

"The what?" The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them, splatting on the table between us like a bucket of paint.

Shadows flit across Dan's face and he pauses, turning his full attention to me, a quizzical curve to his mouth. "You know, your Touch Me Not."

What on earth is a Touch Me Not and why aren't you supposed to touch it?

My face must have reflected my thoughts as Dan arches an eyebrow. "The one you've been trying to grow for weeks?"

"Uhhhh..." Thoughts crash through the static in my head, bouncing around like crazed squirrels trapped in a cardboard box. They're too wild and uncoordinated for me to grab onto one and shove it into a coherent reply, and with each bounce, sparks of my power build in my hands, threatening to explode.