PART 1: Fireworks
Chapter 1: Salad Days
We slipped quickly down the broad office-carpeted hallway outside the courtroom to find bathrooms to change in, exchanging the nice court clothes we wore while testifying earlier today for our biking outfits. Moab is a small bike-friendly town, so Kaitlyn and I rode almost everywhere. I live about three miles out of town proper, but it’s an easy ride out and back, being nearly flat and without much traffic on the Kane Creek Boulevard to contend with.
It was a pleasant sunny afternoon, early in July, not too hot yet, and we had our bike-generated breeze to cool us besides. Between the glorious ride and the win in court, we arrived at the house we shared relaxed and happy.
On arriving, Kaitlyn pulled her phone out of her bike’s trunk bag, saying she’d heard it buzzing on the way back. She looked at it, then said, “My mom. I need to return her call.”
I just nodded, taking her bike inside with me as she stayed outside to return the call and walk off the ride’s lactic acid buildup. I stowed the bikes away in the utility room off of the kitchen, my heated bike garage; much better than leaving the bikes out in the rain and cold, given that we used them almost every day.
Kaitlyn walked back in and said, “My parents invited us to stay with them for a few days down at their farm south of town around the 4th,” referring to Independence Day. “They want to celebrate our engagement. Aaaand my mom wants to make wedding plans, too.”
A bit nervous, I said, “Well, I suppose it is time I met them, isn’t it?”
“Them and the rest of the local clan. My sister and two brothers will be there, too,” Kaitlyn informed me.
“Wow… A real family reunion, then?” I replied, my nervousness deepening. I’m a serious introvert and aspy besides.
Kaitlyn knew this, so she said, “Relax, it’ll be fine. We’re all close, and the fam is pretty chill. You’ll like it on their farm. It’s not exactly nature, but it’s a lot closer to it than a manicured lawn.”
Kaitlyn and I are nature mages. We wield the power of nature to do what we’re currently calling magic, having only a sketchy scientific basis for the art so far. We aspire to scientific rigor, but so far, we’ve been focusing on developing skills over collecting data, deriving formulae, and devising experiments.
It’s easiest by far to do magic naked and out in nature, which is why most people think magic is fictional. Of those that think magic could still be real, those with any sense will admit that it appears to be dying out in the world. There’s a huge kernel of truth there: nature is continually being pushed to the margins of our world, and nudity is taboo in most countries and social situations. Between those two forces, the chance of any given person discovering that they can do magic is minuscule.
I discovered my magic while camping out solo in a remote part of the Southern Utahan canyonlands. I am Devindra Bhat, born and raised in Mumbai, India, so when I found myself in a spiritual situation, I decided to follow the paths of the naked yogis back in my old country and experience it that way. I stumbled across my magical gift entirely by accident.
Kaitlyn then stumbled across me years later, almost literally. I was out lying in a canyon, naked again, when she came up on me all nervous-like, believing she’d come across a dead body. We both got a fright that day. That same day, we discovered that she is also a mage, and I’ve been teaching her ever since. Through that closeness, we became lovers and are now recently engaged to be married.
I considered this invitation, then said, “Okay, I guess we’d better prepare something to bring. Wouldn’t do to arrive empty-handed, would it?” Aspy I am, but learning things is one of my strengths, so given suitable guidance, I can fake sociability when required.
Kaitlyn smiled appreciatively, knowing well what a leap this was for me. “Yeah, mom tasked me with bringing a few salads along. They want to kick things off this evening.”
Kaitlyn and I were both bachelors when we met, years from our prior previous relationships, so our cooking skills are…sketchy. Still, we pooled our meager skills and managed to throw together something that looked tasty enough.
Although we try to bike everywhere we can, taking two big salads all the way through town and miles out into the farmland to its south side was a bit of a stretch, so we packed some overnight bags and the salads into mi burro, a low-mileage 1984 Toyota Land Cruiser FJ45, my little beast of burden. I lifted our bikes up onto the rack that I kept perpetually on its hitch, strapped them down, and we were off to meet the ’rents.
Turing and Ritchie help me.