Zeke Jarvis
Sam wanted to have a good feeling about this date. Her date’s restaurant suggestion seemed good, he had been patient before asking to meet in person, and his user name was an unpretentious Community reference (TroynotAbedinthemorning). So, as she approached the table, she was upbeat. “So good to finally meet you,” was a little stilted on his part, but not gross. Well within the bounds of acceptable first-date greetings. Sam told Troy that it was nice to meet him. She looked around the restaurant, wondering if anyone else was there on a semi-awkward first date.
They talked for a bit before the waiter came over to explain the specials: some fish dish (Sam wasn’t a fish fan), a vegetable lasagna, or sauteed mapinguari. Sam went for a spicy fettucine alfredo. Troy looked at her for a moment before deciding on the fish dinner. After the waiter took their orders, Troy said, “I honestly didn’t know that they served cryptids. Is that an issue?”
“I mean, they’re everywhere these days. You don’t need to worry about it.”
They both looked around the restaurant for a few seconds. Sam noticed a specific kind of exposed ducts. There was bound to be an eufae crawling around the place somewhere. Troy asked, “So have you ever seen a chupacabra in your work?”
Sam hated questions like these. She didn’t want to be the kind of person to lecture folks outside of the field, but someone could do the basic work of knowing what they were talking about before they started asking questions. “Chupacabra is one of those things that actually is a myth. Like mermaids.”
“Oh.” Troy’s brow furrowed a little. Sam didn’t want to start off on a disappointing note, so she said. “And some cryptids are still being discovered and named. There’s this one rabbit-like thing where, when you get close to it, the ears play a very soft kind of music.”
“Really?” Troy seemed to perk up. “What does the music sound like?”
Sam smiled. She wanted to direct this carefully. “Apparently, it sounds different to each person who has the opportunity to listen.” Sam hoped that the use of the word “opportunity” would make it sound interesting and special while also not immediately implying that she herself had heard it.
Troy raised an eyebrow. “What did it sound like when you listened?”
Sam had two options. The first was to give a very technical response that would obscure what she’d actually heard. The other was to lie outright. Neither option was the simple response that she’d heard the Doors’ song, “Riders of the Storm.” Sam had never gotten into the Doors, and, on a first date, it hardly seemed either representative of her as a person or necessary for Troy to really know. “The thing is,” she said, “it’s still being examined at the moment. A lot of people don’t know this, but each new cryptid has to undergo a kind of quarantine process because we’re still very uncertain about the long-term consequences of exposure to them.” Troy nodded a little, but he was kind of zoning out. Sam leaned forward and spoke softly, “But I heard that of the first people to encounter this cryptid heard Vanilla Ice.”
Troy turned his head slightly. “You’re kidding.”
Sam held her hands up and raised her eyebrows. “The findings haven’t been officially published, but that’s what I heard.”
Troy shook his head. “That’s so weird. How does the music work?”
Sam leaned back. “We’re not fully sure. Like I said, it’s still very much being studied, and, with the Cryptid Protection Act, our experimentation and study have to be very careful.”
“I always thought that was funny.”
“Having to be careful?”
“No,” Troy said, “that legislation about magical creatures had the same acronym as certified public accountant.”
“Oh,” Sam said. “Right.” Their drinks came. They sipped and looked around the restaurant again. Sam asked, “How is yours?”
Troy nodded. “Decent, yeah. I mean, I’m not, like, a total IPA guy, but I like this one.”
Sam nodded. “Mine’s decent, too.” She was almost positive that Troy was an IPA guy. “So how long have you lived here?”
“I came here for college initially, but I liked it enough that I just stayed around, so, man, like eight or nine years now?”
“Cool.” Sam took another sip of her drink. She looked back at the ducts. The eufae probably wouldn’t be out in the dining area. Some corner of the kitchen would be more likely, where it would be less exposed to people and closer to bits of food and other materials. “Cool,” she said again.
“I bet I’d hear something dumb like Nickleback or Coldplay,” Troy said. “Something that I’d heard a million times without ever purposely choosing it.”
Sam considered admitting that she’d heard the Doors. Maybe Troy would understand that the music wasn’t something that you chose. It wasn’t even necessarily something that the little cryptid chose. It was just kind of chaotic and weird. “Could be,” Sam said. “Like I say, the study is so early that it really could be anything.”
“It could be anything,” Troy said. Then he gave a little laugh. “Is there a lot of debate in your field?” he asked. “You know, if your studies are limited by all of the restrictions?”
“I like to think of it more as an evolving field.”
Troy tilted his head back slightly. “No, right, that makes sense.” After a little bit of quiet, he said, “It’s kind of weird that the guy who made Community also helped to make Rick and Morty, right? They feel different to me.”
“I know what you mean,” Sam said, glad for a new topic. “Community feels a little lighter to me. Though I don’t think he created Rick and Morty by himself, right?”
“Yeah, I think some other guy was co-creator or show runner or something.” The waiter brought out salads and a bread basket. Sam and Troy both started to eat, Sam looking around, trying to spot any droppings or marks that the eufae may have left while the restaurant was closed. She didn’t see anything.
Sam must have taken too long, because Troy said, “Penny for your thought?”
Sam swallowed a little lettuce and said, “I’m an experienced worker in a highly specialized field. My thoughts are worth more than a penny.”
Troy laughed quietly. “Okay, one bitcoin for your thoughts.”
Now Sam laughed. “Hey, imps are real, bitcoin is fake.”
Troy’s smile didn’t really change, but his eyes did a little. For the first time, Sam wondered if Troy was being influenced by something. “I mean,” he said, “yeah, but dollars are fake, if we’re being honest.”
“That’s true.” Sam watched him. His may have been normal after all, but the restaurant’s lighting was a little dim. What was meant to be romantic could easily be what hid a film that would have been telltale in a clinical setting. “Do you ever wonder if some creatures are virtual? Little e-imps or something?”
Troy laughed. “I never really thought of that, but I suppose that everything evolves, right? You think that some of those Nigerian prince emails are actually evil elves or something?”
Sam shrugged. “Nobody ever reads the fine print in the terms and conditions. That’s right up fae alley. They rely on people diving in without understanding what they’re getting into.”
Troy kind of nodded and kind of tilted his head, not seeming to know how to respond. Sam could feel herself starting to sweat. She didn’t want to sabotage what could be a decent relationship with paranoia, but it would be crazy to ignore a potential danger. Sam pointed to a picture on the wall. “What do you think that’s about?” When Troy looked at it, she grabbed a bit of iron from her purse and put it in front of her salad plate.
“Kind of weird,” Troy said. “It’s abstract, but I can’t really tell if it’s something that a person made or a computer made.”
Sam picked her fork back up. “Exactly. It’s like, what’s the vibe?”
Troy took a roll from the basket. “Right? I wonder if some relative of the owner made it, and they got it for cheap.”
Sam felt a bit better. Troy had no response to the iron, and he was trying to keep the conversation pleasant. They kept bantering lightly as they finished their salads. The bread did taste pretty good. By the time that the waiter came to take their salad plates away, Sam was feeling much more relaxed. Things continued to go well until Sam noticed a pale blue in one corner of the ceiling. It had to be the eufae, and it seemed to be looking at the back of Troy’s head.
Troy started to whistle. Somehow, before the tune really came together, Sam knew what the song would be. A little shiver ran down her spine. Troy took another sip of his beer. “This is really good.”
Sam smiled, trying not to show any worry. “That’s good. I’m glad you picked this place.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I hadn’t actually been here before, so I was a little nervous, but I think that it worked out.” He looked around the place, no doubt admiring his good taste.
Sam touched her necklace. The pendant had a bit of iron and a bit of silver in it as extra measures of protection. She couldn’t tell if the eufae saw it or felt it. Sam began to wonder if an eufae really was what the blue thing was. It could have been something else, and her iron would have been useless, though there were a variety of cryptids that seemed repelled by iron or silver. “Have you ever seen a cryptid?”
Troy actually looked a bit sad. “No. I’ve wanted to, but I never had.”
Sam knew what that actually meant. Troy had seen them but never recognized them for what they were. Sam looked back at the eufae, wondering if the owners had made some kind of deal with it. If they had, they were fools. “You might actually be better off not seeing them, in some respects,” Sam said.
“How so?”
Sam wondered how honest she should be with him. There were matters both of how personal to get and also of whether or not he’d actually understand. She decided to shrug and say, “There are a lot of kinds of cryptids out there. You can’t be sure of what kind you’d see.”
Troy nodded. “That makes sense.” He started to whistle again. The same song. The same song that Sam had heard from the rabbit thing’s ears. “Have you ever been in real danger?” Troy asked.
Sam laughed. “Of course. You don’t get very far in the field if you’re not willing to take a chance.”
“Sounds like dating.”
“Fair enough.” Sam touched her pendant again. There was a small prong that she could use to take it off her necklace. Sam pictured herself taking it off and going to hold Troy’s hand. She pictured him screaming as the iron burned his flesh, the eufae retreating in pain. Then she pictured him smiling at her touch. Before she could try it and see either scenario, the eufae disappeared, crawling into some crack in the wall. Troy looked past Sam, drifting away for a few seconds. She held onto the pendant a bit longer. It struck Sam that, however the date went, she’d likely leave knowing something that Troy would never hear, that he might not ever even understand.
They talked for a bit before the waiter came over to explain the specials: some fish dish (Sam wasn’t a fish fan), a vegetable lasagna, or sauteed mapinguari. Sam went for a spicy fettucine alfredo. Troy looked at her for a moment before deciding on the fish dinner. After the waiter took their orders, Troy said, “I honestly didn’t know that they served cryptids. Is that an issue?”
“I mean, they’re everywhere these days. You don’t need to worry about it.”
They both looked around the restaurant for a few seconds. Sam noticed a specific kind of exposed ducts. There was bound to be an eufae crawling around the place somewhere. Troy asked, “So have you ever seen a chupacabra in your work?”
Sam hated questions like these. She didn’t want to be the kind of person to lecture folks outside of the field, but someone could do the basic work of knowing what they were talking about before they started asking questions. “Chupacabra is one of those things that actually is a myth. Like mermaids.”
“Oh.” Troy’s brow furrowed a little. Sam didn’t want to start off on a disappointing note, so she said. “And some cryptids are still being discovered and named. There’s this one rabbit-like thing where, when you get close to it, the ears play a very soft kind of music.”
“Really?” Troy seemed to perk up. “What does the music sound like?”
Sam smiled. She wanted to direct this carefully. “Apparently, it sounds different to each person who has the opportunity to listen.” Sam hoped that the use of the word “opportunity” would make it sound interesting and special while also not immediately implying that she herself had heard it.
Troy raised an eyebrow. “What did it sound like when you listened?”
Sam had two options. The first was to give a very technical response that would obscure what she’d actually heard. The other was to lie outright. Neither option was the simple response that she’d heard the Doors’ song, “Riders of the Storm.” Sam had never gotten into the Doors, and, on a first date, it hardly seemed either representative of her as a person or necessary for Troy to really know. “The thing is,” she said, “it’s still being examined at the moment. A lot of people don’t know this, but each new cryptid has to undergo a kind of quarantine process because we’re still very uncertain about the long-term consequences of exposure to them.” Troy nodded a little, but he was kind of zoning out. Sam leaned forward and spoke softly, “But I heard that of the first people to encounter this cryptid heard Vanilla Ice.”
Troy turned his head slightly. “You’re kidding.”
Sam held her hands up and raised her eyebrows. “The findings haven’t been officially published, but that’s what I heard.”
Troy shook his head. “That’s so weird. How does the music work?”
Sam leaned back. “We’re not fully sure. Like I said, it’s still very much being studied, and, with the Cryptid Protection Act, our experimentation and study have to be very careful.”
“I always thought that was funny.”
“Having to be careful?”
“No,” Troy said, “that legislation about magical creatures had the same acronym as certified public accountant.”
“Oh,” Sam said. “Right.” Their drinks came. They sipped and looked around the restaurant again. Sam asked, “How is yours?”
Troy nodded. “Decent, yeah. I mean, I’m not, like, a total IPA guy, but I like this one.”
Sam nodded. “Mine’s decent, too.” She was almost positive that Troy was an IPA guy. “So how long have you lived here?”
“I came here for college initially, but I liked it enough that I just stayed around, so, man, like eight or nine years now?”
“Cool.” Sam took another sip of her drink. She looked back at the ducts. The eufae probably wouldn’t be out in the dining area. Some corner of the kitchen would be more likely, where it would be less exposed to people and closer to bits of food and other materials. “Cool,” she said again.
“I bet I’d hear something dumb like Nickleback or Coldplay,” Troy said. “Something that I’d heard a million times without ever purposely choosing it.”
Sam considered admitting that she’d heard the Doors. Maybe Troy would understand that the music wasn’t something that you chose. It wasn’t even necessarily something that the little cryptid chose. It was just kind of chaotic and weird. “Could be,” Sam said. “Like I say, the study is so early that it really could be anything.”
“It could be anything,” Troy said. Then he gave a little laugh. “Is there a lot of debate in your field?” he asked. “You know, if your studies are limited by all of the restrictions?”
“I like to think of it more as an evolving field.”
Troy tilted his head back slightly. “No, right, that makes sense.” After a little bit of quiet, he said, “It’s kind of weird that the guy who made Community also helped to make Rick and Morty, right? They feel different to me.”
“I know what you mean,” Sam said, glad for a new topic. “Community feels a little lighter to me. Though I don’t think he created Rick and Morty by himself, right?”
“Yeah, I think some other guy was co-creator or show runner or something.” The waiter brought out salads and a bread basket. Sam and Troy both started to eat, Sam looking around, trying to spot any droppings or marks that the eufae may have left while the restaurant was closed. She didn’t see anything.
Sam must have taken too long, because Troy said, “Penny for your thought?”
Sam swallowed a little lettuce and said, “I’m an experienced worker in a highly specialized field. My thoughts are worth more than a penny.”
Troy laughed quietly. “Okay, one bitcoin for your thoughts.”
Now Sam laughed. “Hey, imps are real, bitcoin is fake.”
Troy’s smile didn’t really change, but his eyes did a little. For the first time, Sam wondered if Troy was being influenced by something. “I mean,” he said, “yeah, but dollars are fake, if we’re being honest.”
“That’s true.” Sam watched him. His may have been normal after all, but the restaurant’s lighting was a little dim. What was meant to be romantic could easily be what hid a film that would have been telltale in a clinical setting. “Do you ever wonder if some creatures are virtual? Little e-imps or something?”
Troy laughed. “I never really thought of that, but I suppose that everything evolves, right? You think that some of those Nigerian prince emails are actually evil elves or something?”
Sam shrugged. “Nobody ever reads the fine print in the terms and conditions. That’s right up fae alley. They rely on people diving in without understanding what they’re getting into.”
Troy kind of nodded and kind of tilted his head, not seeming to know how to respond. Sam could feel herself starting to sweat. She didn’t want to sabotage what could be a decent relationship with paranoia, but it would be crazy to ignore a potential danger. Sam pointed to a picture on the wall. “What do you think that’s about?” When Troy looked at it, she grabbed a bit of iron from her purse and put it in front of her salad plate.
“Kind of weird,” Troy said. “It’s abstract, but I can’t really tell if it’s something that a person made or a computer made.”
Sam picked her fork back up. “Exactly. It’s like, what’s the vibe?”
Troy took a roll from the basket. “Right? I wonder if some relative of the owner made it, and they got it for cheap.”
Sam felt a bit better. Troy had no response to the iron, and he was trying to keep the conversation pleasant. They kept bantering lightly as they finished their salads. The bread did taste pretty good. By the time that the waiter came to take their salad plates away, Sam was feeling much more relaxed. Things continued to go well until Sam noticed a pale blue in one corner of the ceiling. It had to be the eufae, and it seemed to be looking at the back of Troy’s head.
Troy started to whistle. Somehow, before the tune really came together, Sam knew what the song would be. A little shiver ran down her spine. Troy took another sip of his beer. “This is really good.”
Sam smiled, trying not to show any worry. “That’s good. I’m glad you picked this place.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I hadn’t actually been here before, so I was a little nervous, but I think that it worked out.” He looked around the place, no doubt admiring his good taste.
Sam touched her necklace. The pendant had a bit of iron and a bit of silver in it as extra measures of protection. She couldn’t tell if the eufae saw it or felt it. Sam began to wonder if an eufae really was what the blue thing was. It could have been something else, and her iron would have been useless, though there were a variety of cryptids that seemed repelled by iron or silver. “Have you ever seen a cryptid?”
Troy actually looked a bit sad. “No. I’ve wanted to, but I never had.”
Sam knew what that actually meant. Troy had seen them but never recognized them for what they were. Sam looked back at the eufae, wondering if the owners had made some kind of deal with it. If they had, they were fools. “You might actually be better off not seeing them, in some respects,” Sam said.
“How so?”
Sam wondered how honest she should be with him. There were matters both of how personal to get and also of whether or not he’d actually understand. She decided to shrug and say, “There are a lot of kinds of cryptids out there. You can’t be sure of what kind you’d see.”
Troy nodded. “That makes sense.” He started to whistle again. The same song. The same song that Sam had heard from the rabbit thing’s ears. “Have you ever been in real danger?” Troy asked.
Sam laughed. “Of course. You don’t get very far in the field if you’re not willing to take a chance.”
“Sounds like dating.”
“Fair enough.” Sam touched her pendant again. There was a small prong that she could use to take it off her necklace. Sam pictured herself taking it off and going to hold Troy’s hand. She pictured him screaming as the iron burned his flesh, the eufae retreating in pain. Then she pictured him smiling at her touch. Before she could try it and see either scenario, the eufae disappeared, crawling into some crack in the wall. Troy looked past Sam, drifting away for a few seconds. She held onto the pendant a bit longer. It struck Sam that, however the date went, she’d likely leave knowing something that Troy would never hear, that he might not ever even understand.
Zeke Jarvis (he/him/his) is a Professor of English at Eureka College. His work has appeared in Moon City Review, Posit, KNOCK, among other places. His books include, So Anyway..., In A Family Way, The Three of Them, The Calling, and Antisocial Norms. His website is zekedotjarvis.wordpress.com
