Page 38 of Tidal Creatures

“You really think you’re sticking around for two full shifts?”

Anna shrugs. “If that’s what I have to do in order to keep my word, that’s what I’ll do,” she says. “Let’s get back to Diana. She’s your senior, but she didn’t notice the substitution, she didn’t notice when Aske went into the everything and didn’t come back, and she didn’t ask you to look into the death of one of her own. What did she do?”

“She told me there had been other deaths, and where some of them were,” says Judy. “She wasn’t surprised.” That was probably the part that should have stood out from the beginning. Diana had been many things during their discussion. What she hadn’t been was surprised. “Oh, and she wouldn’t notice you trading shifts with Abuk. She doesn’t pay attention to that sort of thing.”

“So who does? Things function too smoothly around here for them to be decided by committee, no matter how into community management bullshit you people are.”

“I do,” says Judy, a little smugly.

Anna stops walking. Judy does the same, turning to face her.

“What?”

“You handle the admin?”

“Yes.”

“Like some sort of glorified secretary?”

“Yes.”

“You’re a top three goddess! If Diana wants to be senior, she should be handling her own paperwork. Or she should be passing the position over to you, not leaving you to handle the City rota and grad school at the same time!” Anna sounds genuinely pissed off, which is a surprise and oddly gratifying all at once.

“I don’t mind,” says Judy. “I’m good at it. The Celestial Bureaucracy—”

“Belongs in the Chinese Heavens, and even if you’re a Chinese moon goddess, you’re not there right now! We’re all supposed to pull our weight. It’s part of why the City keeps us around. The senior for the area makes sure things are happening when they’re meant to happen. We’re creatures of the calendar, Judy! You really think the calendar isn’t meant to be a responsibility? Being senior isn’t just a title and a bunch of bowing. It’s keeping the rest of us safe and moving.” Anna sounds almost disgusted. She shakes her head, hard. “What the hell does your Diana even do?”

“I—” Judy pauses. When asked that bluntly, she doesn’t know. It’s not a matter of being unable to think of an answer; it’s that the answer isn’t there. There is no answer. “She teaches classes? She’s good with the new gods, I guess…” When she takes notice of them at all, which mostly only happens when they cross her radar directly. Judy didn’t meet her until she’d already been on campus for most of a semester and woke up one morning exhausted by the amount of time she’d spent away from the City. She’d gone looking for Diana then, and been put on the roster with a lot of smiling and platitudes about wanting it enough to work for it.

That wasn’t how things had worked anywhere else she’s ever been, even New Jersey, when she’d been newly divine and coping with the death of her parents. Even then, she’d had the local senior at her door in a matter of days, to tell her what was happening to her and what she was now going to be expected to do.

Maybe Diana isn’t supporting the Lunars of Berkeley the way she’s supposed to. Judy frowns.

“David first, then Diana,” says Anna, apparently satisfied that she’s going to get her way. “I’ll leave the room while you tell her to start doing her own damn admin work.”

“Yeah…” says Judy as she starts walking again, heading toward Piedmont Avenue.

While all of UC Berkeley is technically and legally a single campus, the school covers enough topics and requires enough specialized facilities that, when combined with the encroaching urban area, the need for student housing, and sporting events, there are large portions of campus that aren’t remotely contiguous. Reaching them involves leaving the campus for surface streets or private land, which always feels a little unreal. Walking across the school to get somewhere shouldn’t mean leaving the school, but it does, surprisingly often.

Judy and Anna walk quickly along Piedmont, students passing them in both directions, heading for other pieces of the school. Anna glances at Judy.

“Does this feel odd to you?” she asks.

“It does,” admits Judy. “Like stepping up in a bathroom, or stepping down in the everything. Something that shouldn’t be where it is.”

“Getting naked in a movie theater.”

“Walking your zebra to the grocery store.”

They continue on, trading things that don’t feel right back and forth, getting more outlandish with every exchange, until Anna breaks down laughing and claps Judy on the shoulder with one surprisingly strong hand.

“You’re all right, peach lady,” she says. “Most of you are sort of stodgy, but you’re all right. I bet you aren’t a snitch, either. You’re not going to run to Diana as soon as I turn my back on you.”

It’s a warning wrapped in a compliment, and Judy understands the laws of language well enough to see it in an instant. She decides that in this case, she’d rather be warned. “She’s been acting weird about this whole thing, and Aske deserves better,” she says. “I’m not running to Diana. Although you are going to have to tell her that you’re here.”

“Before I leave, I promise.” They’re almost to the athletic building. The practice field is empty, and voices drift from inside, loud and jubilant in the way that usually signals too much testosterone shoved into too small of a space. Judy exhales, then takes a very deep breath, preparing herself to breathe through her mouth for as long as they’re inside. Locker rooms always have a funk that she can’t stand, body odor and a plethora of fluids barely contained by the smell of bleach and cheap imitation lemon.

They head inside, Judy slightly in the lead, and move toward the sound of voices. It’s coming from the locker room, not the showers, which is a relief. Walking in on half-naked football players is rude at best, and sexual harassment at worst, but walking in on them in the shower is definitely grounds for some sort of disciplinary action.