Conics Unfortunately: 60

Ellipse wished the boys were with her instead of at their meeting with Wellspring Inc. Central Park was just so huge, and though it was not as crowded as the rest of the city, Ellipse felt uneasy in the presence of so many other earthlings. Her skin tingled every time she accidentally brushed someone else’s skin, and her eyes felt like they would explode whenever she made eye contact with a stranger. She was used to being in space, either alone or surrounded by aliens who could not reliably interpret her body language or easily place her face.

She wore one of Tejal’s old jackets, a hard-shell zip-up he had outgrown during their galivanting, with the hood pulled over her head, and tried to remember what the map near the entrance had looked like. But she did not need to, because as soon as the rounded the next corner, she saw the busy street ahead of her, and hotdog carts loitering on the sidewalk. Ellipse picked up the pace and glanced at her watch. She was late.

The Met was a mass of concrete so huge that Ellipse could not see the trees of Central Park behind it. She gawped at its entrance, amazed by the humongous staircase. No one in space used grand staircases like this. Giant purple posters about the newest temporary exhibit hung from the porch ceiling, and Ellipse regretted choosing this as the meeting place. She would never find a stranger here.

“Excuse me.” Someone tapped her shoulder, and Ellipse whipped around.

She faced a woman about her height, and Ellipse gulped. It had been so long since she looked anyone in the eye without needing to look up or down. The woman had pale skin and black hair, with a too-sharp jaw and too-harsh eyes. Her voice was scratchy.

“Ellie Tibot?”

Ellipse narrowed her eyes. “Mi Na Park?”

The woman inclined her head just so. “Miss Park to you. Randi tells me you’ve run into some day tubai hunters. Follow me and we’ll talk as we go.”

“Where are we going?”

“Around,” Miss Park answered. “The Highline has some fountains you can splash in.”

“I have perfume on,” Ellipse offered. But Miss Park had already pivoted and begun walking away, and Ellipse had no choice but to follow.

Miss Park spoke as she walked, explaining the plan brusquely, and in not nearly enough detail. “There is a lot of timing involved in this,” she said. “We had to keep your debut from happening, first. There was no telling what you would do to Andra-Media’s value.”

Well, Ellipse thought, scowling, that sounded rather clinical.

“Randi also thought it was in your best interest to not be involved in show business. No child is going to grow up healthy playing to the whims of a figure-obsessed dietician. And despite your linguistic and musical genius, you were still too young for a full time job.”

Ellipse thought back to days spent with a growling stomach and sore muscles and a mean lady telling her that the splits were not enough. That was a little more reasonable. But she still did not like the idea of being left in space because she was somehow in the way. Her pace dropped slightly, putting more open sidewalk between her and the lawyer.

“Randi had been amassing stocks since turning eighteen, and with you out of the picture, it became a little more possible to force Andra-Media’s stock values to crash and fall.” Miss Park looked back expectantly, one eyebrow arched, and Ellipse caught up to her. “Your compositions are a massive part of the company’s image, after all. Once the new album without your music dropped, that universality of Andra’s music fell away, and people lost faith. Randi sold right before that, made a boatload, and then bought more shares later.”

Ellipse could see where this was going. Randi was going to buy up Andra-Media stock until the company rested solidly in their control, and then stage a coup. In the corner of her eye, Ellipse watched the rusticated street-front of an office building pass by.

“The building process is going on again,” Miss Park continued. “In about a year, the stocks should be at a level where Randi can force another stock crash and buy out enough shares to take over. We can make a few new deals and change the media forever.” She led Ellipse up a few steps, then down under the street, through a hole in the ground covered by old, green iron and dusty glass.

“That sounds kind of illegal,” Ellipse said.

Miss Park shrugged. “It sort of is. Insider trading is very much frowned upon. But we’re doing it for a good cause. When everything goes to court, I’m quite certain I can sway things in our favor. I’ll give you a few minutes to think.”

They continued down a set of steep stairs, into tunnels lit with LEDs and colorful subway line signs, and Ellipse thought.

She wished someone had asked her first, before everything was set into motion. She wished she had been given the option of saying no. Being hungry and achy and scared of producers was nothing compared to being sent away without explanation or promise that she would be accepted back.

Being a pawn, Ellipse decided, felt very much like being underground. She stood on a subway platform, staring at the tracks while Miss Park watched her with too-perceptive eyes. The yellow lighting cast shadows on everything and nothing, and Ellipse felt like the whole world would crash down on her if she tried to move away from the set, carved spaces that already existed.

A roar built up in the tunnel, and a set of headlights zoomed ever closer. Ellipse winced as wind burst out in front of the subway train.

“So?” Miss Park finally prompted. “I assume you like the plan.”

The train stopped, and Ellipse admired its sleek, chrome exterior. Acrylic inlays denoted the route, and a flashing LED panel displayed the name of the final stop. The train could only follow the track.

Ellipse hated the plan. She gulped and looked back at Miss Park. “A year is a long time for me to be on the run, you know.”

Miss Park’s neutral face darkened into a scowl. “And?”

Okay, nevermind. Eye contact was bad. Suddenly, Ellipse’s shoes were the most interesting thing she had ever seen, and the little black ink doodles of sirens and seashores on the white canvas were so very pretty. “I am just saying!” she squeaked. “What happens if I get caught?”

“Then everything is down the drain.” Miss Park waved at the train door, and Ellipse jolted into motion, stepping robotically over the gap between train and platform, and closing a fist around a pole near the door.

“You have to stay hidden.”

Heck. The words spilled before Ellipse could think. Her heartbeat thundered and raced, and her fist clenched hard on the metal rod, and she felt anger carve deep, new wrinkles into her brow. “Maybe I am sick of it!” she hissed. “Did you and And-Randi ever think of that?”

Mi Na Park, frustratingly, did not flinch, only tipped her head down a degree or two.

“Did you ever stop and consider the fact that you sent a fifteen year old girl out to live on her own without any physical contact with the one family member she had left? Without any friends? Without the slightest hint of an emotional support network?”

Ellipse’s shoulders shook, and she jabbed a finger in Mi Na Park’s face. The woman flinched, finally.

No one on the subway paid attention. There were always crazy people on public transportation.

“I know your intentions are good. I get it!” Spit flew. Or maybe it was tears. Ellipse was not one-hundred percent sure. “But the end never justifies the means! I was alone for a year, and you two never told me why until I came down to Earth and asked you!”

She choked on her spit and gasped, and wet lines crisscrossed her cheeks. The all-encompassing roar of the subway train flying down tunnels filled the silence, building and building as Ellipse fought to force words out of her throat.

“I felt abandoned out there,” she sobbed. “And so I am not—in any way—obligated to help you. I know what I want. If I have to break your plan to get it, I will.”

The train slowed, and Ellipse’s dramatic moment was cut short by her stumbling to keep her feet flat on the ground. She grabbed the back of a plastic seat for stability, and then yelped when the train came to a complete stop and sent jerks rippling down her limbs.

She stomped off the train and stood on the platform and watched as the shiny, chrome doors closed on the lawyer.