Ryot Uplift's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

The cottage past the edge of town had a door, a desk, and a wire that ran to a small brass handset on the wall. Ryot arrived at dusk, unpacked the folio, and rang Nibs before he even lit a lamp. He had to buy more days. Nibs picked up mid-sentence, already talking. "I told them Friday. I told them Friday because you said a week, and a week from Thursday is Friday, Ryot, so—" Ryot pressed the handset closer. "Listen. I need you to hold them off. Two extra days. I'm close on the hard chapter. I just need—" The line clicked. Then silence. Not a dial tone. Nothing at all. He walked outside with the handset still in his hand. The cable ran from the cottage wall to a carved wooden post at the tree line. The post looked like a stripped trunk, and its top was gnawed to splinters. The cable dangled from the chewed wood in two frayed halves. A bright green cone stood beside the post with a caution sign bolted above it, the kind the exchange planted where cable-eaters had been working. He had walked past it that afternoon without reading it. He read it now. He had until morning, maybe less, before Nibs assumed he was ducking the call and told the buyers the deal was off. Ryot crouched by the broken ends. He remembered what the coach driver had told him: the network reroutes through healthy cable once you pull the dead line out. He needed the chewed section gone. Something small and bright hovered near his ear — a sprite, wings catching the last light in stripes of pink and blue. It landed on the frayed copper and tugged. It could not lift the weight. Ryot took off his coat, wrapped his hands, and gripped the dead cable where the beavers had left it. He braced a boot against the post and pulled. The line came free in a long, wet slap across the grass. He waited. The handset in his other hand gave a soft, steady hum. He ran back inside and cranked the ringer. Nibs picked up on the second turn, furious. "Did you hang up on me?" "Cable was chewed. It's fixed. Nibs, listen — tell them Monday. Not Friday. Monday. I will hand you pages Sunday night." A pause. Ryot heard him breathing, counting. "Monday," Nibs said. "If it's not Monday, I cancel it myself. I mean it this time." He hung up. Ryot set the handset down. He had bought three days and spent whatever cushion he had left. The sprite drifted in through the open door and settled on the folio. He opened it to the self-worth chapter and picked up the pen.