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“Wait, that row says, ‘Continue watching’. Is that the stuff you watch? Let’s put on one of those.”
Oh god. I exclusively watched a mix of corny and trashy shit, and Agma had always found it so embarrassing on the rare occasions we did go out with friends and I couldn’t contribute at all to their conversations about the latest climate change documentary or some new indie film about a young demiurgus leaving the fast-paced corporate world behind to find his calling in yak farming.
“Um, okay.” I hurriedly sucked down another lungful of sweet smoke to try and relax as I selected one of my favourite corny sitcoms. “Uh, we’ll start it again from the beginning so you can follow.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I don’t mind.” I’d actually already watched the whole thing at least ten times, but I could easily watch it again. “There’s actually a new season coming out soon, so we’ll be caught up and can watch that together. If you like it, I mean.”
“I’ll like anything that isn’t demiurgus opera.”
I snuffled a laugh, scrolling up through the episodes to the very first one. Beryl shifted to face the TV fully, rearranging the blanket over herself so her bare feet were tucked under it. My fingers itched with the urge to pile several blankets on top of myself as well, but I refrained.
The opening credits started on the screen, cheerful music playing over a birds-eye shot of a typical suburb before the camera zoomed in on two specific houses side by side—one a tall white-washed house with pale green trim and a perfectly manicured front yard, the other a wide, squat building made of black stone, with a wildly overgrown garden filled with Deep Earth plants.
The words Our Neighbours the Humans floated onto the screen in curly letters, before it cut to a reel of shots from the show as the cast was introduced. An all-American family, Mr and Mrs Smith and their two young kids, Angelica and Sam, followed by their demiurgus neighbours, the Aktonars. Lifemates Gimi and Tomar, and their five kids, Biki, Lota, Pakna, Grin and Reesh.
When the credits ended with a full-screen shot of a smiling older demiurgus female with long white-streaked black hair and the words, “And Parin var Gelligar as Jurik Aktonar”, Beryl asked, “Who’s that?”
“Oh, a super-famous demiurgus actor from a few decades ago. She used to be a total babe.” Okay, the shade was definitely loosening me up. “Well, she still is, but she was in this long-running late-night show about a rogue demiurgus cop who goes undercover while off-duty to bust human crime rings. She was his sexy crime-fighting partner.”
Beryl snorted, shooting me a wry look. “Fan of that show too?”
“Oh yeah, it’s awesome. I had such a crush on her.” I tapped the end of my joint into the ashtray and snuck a glance at her. “We can watch that too if you want. It’s pretty dated now, so not, you know, the best representation of modern society’s views, but it’s still good.”
“Sure, but let’s watch this first.” Beryl nodded at the screen. “Can you explain it to me?”
I quickly rewound to the end of the opening credits again and paused. “So it’s about this demiurgus family who moves in next door to some humans. The Smiths. And it’s basically just”—I shrugged—“them figuring out how to co-exist as neighbours. But like, in a funny way. Well, you might not find it funny. It’s, you know, goofy and a little slapstick.”
Beryl nodded. “Sounds fun. Who does sexy crime-fighting lady play?”
My mouth twitched into a lazy smile. “She plays the mom of Tomar—uh, the female demiurgus adult. She’s like the rich grandma who visits from the city and brings the kids stuff, including the human kids. The Smith parents hate it, because they say it’s all really weird.”
Beryl snorted, sitting back to get comfortable. Her knee brushed against mine through the blanket on her lap, making my thigh muscles jump. But I didn’t move away.
“Sounds good. Okay, I’m ready. Oh, wait.” She shifted, tugging a blanket out from under her. “Do you want a blanket? I think I’m sitting on most of them.”
I stayed perfectly still as she tossed one over my legs, but after a second, I stubbed out the remnants of my joint and tucked my legs under to get comfortable. Then, thinking fuck it, I grabbed another two blankets and piled them over me as well.
Beryl grinned at me. “You look comfy now. Okay, let’s watch.”
I grinned back, silently wishing I was wearing my big onesie and not these stupid jeans, but I was pretty comfortable. And relaxed, now that the shade had loosened me up. And shit, I was hungry. When was the food gonna get here?
Leaning forward to grab another joint and the matches, I lit it and pressed play. The opening music faded, and the inside of the Smiths’ house appeared. Mr Smith was peering out of the living room window with an overexaggerated frown, and canned laughter played even though he was doing literally nothing funny. I still snorted, shade smoke curling from my nostrils.
Beryl glanced at me with a perplexed smile. “What’s funny?”
“Oh, it’s just—It’s not, I guess, but he’s watching the Aktonars move in next door.” I shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious.
Beryl chuckled, bumping her shoulder with mine. Shit, had I moved closer to her subconsciously? I was pretty big, so I took up a lot of the couch.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be a buzzkill. I’m sure I’ll get it after a few minutes.”
“No, I know. It’s probably a little weird when you’ve never watched anything like this.”
“It looks fun, though. I’m excited.” She grinned at me, then paused. “I’m excited for the food to get here too.”
“Shit, me too,” I groaned, rubbing my belly. “I’m so fuckin’ hungry.”
