Archive of Our Own ^beta

Holiday: a day of festivity or recreation when no work is done.

A quaint notion, to take a day off from work and study, but he does not see the benefit of it.

No, that is not correct. He does understand the benefit of it, just not for him. He…he is simply too busy, too duty-bound, to take time off from his studies. Perhaps to others, there is a benefit to the time off, however it is something he will need to look into later when he is not writing notes about the properties of summer grown herbs versus winter grown herbs and how they affect—

“Little Veri.”

“I’m busy, old man.” He hears a sharp ‘tsk’ and deftly avoids the hand that comes for his head. He hisses when a wave of cold air hits him.

Damn that old man and his Ice.

“Manners, brat, you’re speaking to an elder.”

“Of course, sir, of course. You are my elder.” He smiles sunnily up at the man, who glares at him, before returning to his studies. Veritas Prime huffs, then sighs.

“It’s the first day of the Apple Season, Veri.” Ah yes, he supposes that it is, he mentally muses, continuing his notes. The Apple Season is the galaxy’s season of fertility, when children are celebrated and new parents are given gifts and food. When soon-to-be parents hold baby showers and the Apple Trees of the Laurel Wreath Galaxy are prayed upon to provide blessings to the soon to be child.

“I will not wait up for you then, based on what I’ve heard about last year.” He hears an annoyed sigh, then a long-suffering sigh, and then suddenly, Veritas Prime is at face level with him.

“Do not let expectations of others rest heavily on your shoulders, Ratio. Holidays like these are meant to be taken with lightheartedness and ease. A break will do wonders on your young mind.”

“A break means I will be even more behind. Go be drunk and sad and leave me to my notes.” Prime sighs again, raising his too cold hands to take gently take hold of little Veritas’s face.

“I am…sorry, to have imposed all of this on you. You…you are a phenomenon that none of us can explain. I…I got you something…for today.” One of Prime’s hands drops from his face, waving in a curved motion that he knows is how Prime uses the blessing he doesn’t tell anyone about.

He jumps when something heavy drops into his lap.

“You will live a long life, a long long life, and learn many things. As time progresses, you will forget things simply because you will know too much. This is my gift to you, my child—the Philosopher's Codex. A rarely used relic of the Veritas Virtue line. The gem here,” Prime taps his finger on the gem that rests on the spine of the codex, “serves as a conductor for knowledge transfer between you and the blessings of the Codex. With this, you will never have to worry about forgetting anything, for you will always have it here. I have…also transferred my knowledge into it as well, for when you want to learn more about past Veritases and the days of old.”

He picks up the Codex with shaking hands, stunned by the sheer amount of Erudition he can feel radiating from it.

“It also serves as a great tool of enforcement. Integral was known to use it to throw at unruly diplomats. But, nevertheless, you may use it as you wish.” Little Veritas startles when Prime rests his forehead against his. “I know no one will say this to you, so let me be the first and only. Welcome to the universe, Veritas Minerva Ratio. May truth, reason, and Erudition guide your way.”

△

He only got five more Apple Seasons with Prime before everything he loved was burned down, not that he saw it, though. Thrown into a shuttle with only his Codex, Veritas Prime and Gravitas had barely started their goodbyes before he was falling asleep, heading to a destination unknown.

When he awoke, he was in a dormitory at an unknown university, being watched over by the headmaster. A curious looking man, or owl really.

A Zatzka he learns.

One of many he will come to know over the years. As time moves by and he keeps living. For now, there will never be another Veritas to come and take his place. He is…the last.

The last Veritas. The last Virtue.

Alone.

△

The Zatzkas are nice and friendly people, with their own unique ways of living and their own holidays. They inquire about his traditions, his holidays, but he lies and says he forgot them all.

Even when the Philosopher’s Codex pings to remind him that Equilibrium Day is coming soon, that next month is the Annual Open Debate. He…never had the heart to stop the reminders. Instead, he just excuses himself for the day and celebrates the holiday by himself. No matter how big or how small, he refuses to let them die out.

He does get caught one time, by a Zatzka that he had bumped heads with several times—Glaux.

“So this is where you run off to, Veritas Ratio.”

“Yes. But, my free time is my own, I do not see why this is of any issue.” Glaux sighs, giant body moving with the motion and feathers ruffling.

“I am not angry, young Veritas. Just…we would have happily celebrated these days with you, if you wished for that. Some of us thought you were being a moody teenager.” Glaux’s deep laugh at his own joke has him glaring at the Zatzka, huffing.

“I am not a moody teenager. And…these are private. I…it is not that I don’t want to share them with you but…my people…these holidays…”

“None of us take offense, young Ratio. My sincerest apologies for making you feel like we were pressuring you in any way. How about…if you need anything for your holidays, you let us know. No questions asked.”

He doesn’t respond to the offer immediately, thinking back to the message that popped up today. Glaux nods, and turns to walk away.

“Wait! Glaux… I…”

‘Reminder! Today is the First Harvest! All Laurels are invited to the Hall of Feast to partake in the first harvest of the season!

Note: Don’t be late if you want the good apples!’

“Yes, young one?”

“A harvest was done recently, yes? Would it be possible that I could…buy some of that produce?” Glaux laughs, bounding forward to pick him up and carry him out the door. Despite his recent growth spurt, the Zatzka carries him around like he’s a child.

“Of course, of course! Let us go find you the best fresh produce we have available.”

It ends up being apples, because of course it does.

△

Through Glaux, he was able to get an interview with the Intelligentsia Guild and the rest…the rest is history. He moves away from his second childhood home, into a dorm room that’s thankfully just him. His neighbors are loud and nosy, too focused on partying and other such non-academic nonsense, and he pays them no mind. He ignores their knocks after they ignore his repeated rejects of their invites.

Classes and homework come and go, seasons come and go, he starts and then defends his degrees. Time goes by and so do the pings.

‘Reminder!’

‘Reminder!’

‘Reminder!’

Some of them make him smile, some of them make him hide his face in his pillow and cry. Prime’s birthday—the day Veritas Modulo stepped down and Veritas Athena Prime woke up—always hits him the hardest. The man hated that day, had said that the day was cursed. Yet, despite the man’s distaste of the day, they would spend the entire day sitting side by side, drinking apple juice and building puzzles. The man was an ass, he truly was, but he was kind to Veritas, the one who was born too soon. Veritas Minerva Ratio, the first early Virtue to ever exist.

Maybe he was cursed instead.

He shakes his head from those thoughts, looking at the reminder for the day.

‘Reminder! Today is the Day of Collaboration! All Laurels are required to be at their respective halls at nine ante meridiem and may not leave until they have all agreed to work on a project collectively that will be presented in one month’s time on the Day of Teamwork!’

There’s a note underneath it, one of the many that had been added by the holders of the Codex and from Prime.

This means everyone, INCLUDING the Virtues. All Virtues are required to do this, this is not a joke. The following Virtues are known for sneaking out, regardless of their reincarnation: Comitas, Veritas, and Firmitas. Make sure they are all in the hall, even if you have to drag them.

The note always makes him laugh. Prime…Prime hated the day, hated it so much. And he would say it to their face and try to get out of it, all in the name of honesty and truthfulness.

He smiles to himself as he rereads the words. He misses them all, he really does.

Opening his laptop, he ignores the stinging in his eyes as he opens all the discussion boards for his classes and answers all open questions one by one.

△

The years pass and he goes from student to teacher to student to teacher. He makes acquaintances and friends, makes enemies and frenemies.

He revives the Mundanites, collecting exceptional minds that long to seek mundanity. And to his shock, they all bear names he never thought he would hear again.

(Nicknames, they tell him, names that their parents and colleagues call them. They all had studied at Veritas Prime at some point, just like him. They…perhaps they are small stars reborn, adrift without their Galaxy.)

Yet, despite all of that, he still finds himself spending the holidays alone—both the commonplace ones on the Amber Calendar and the unique and plentiful ones of the Galaxy. He doesn’t mind spending the time alone, locked in his office or in his apartment. When the Guild is clear of students, he’ll take over an empty lecture hall and make it his until the first student makes their way back to campus.

Years pass and he finds himself more and more content with spending the holidays alone.

△

More seasons come and go and recently, they have brought him many a surprise. Helping the Genius Society was not on his list of things to ever do, but nevertheless he had and now he has a standing invite from Asta to visit the Space Station whenever he pleases. A decent start to his goal, he would admit.

Now though, he is hunched over his desk, attempting to decipher one of the smallest fonts he has ever laid eyes on.

Why would a species write this small he does not understand. Would they not worry about smudges or lost information?

He is pulled out of his thoughts by a knock on the door and he sighs as he places his magnifying lens down.

“Come in and be quick.” It is not a student, as winter holidays began the week prior and most staff had gone home as well. Perhaps a Mundanite?

“Forgive my intrusion, Doctor.” Or not. Great, just great.

“Mechanical Aristocrat Screwllum.” He does not rise to stand, but does lift his head to look at the man in front of him.

“Hm, I do believe we are on more familiar terms.” He rolls his eyes at the mirth in the man’s voice, annoyed at being called out.

“One should refer to royalty as their proper title, out of a sign of respect. While my…distaste in your Society still exists, I am not barbaric enough to not follow proper protocol.”

“If you insist, Mr. Ratio.”

“Doctor Ratio.”

“Of course, Mr. Ratio.” Oh, how he’s come to hate that cheeky tone.

(He tries to deny how it makes his heart race, but he knows it’s a losing battle.)

“How can I help you today, Mr. Screwllum? I am quite busy and do not have time for the games of Geniuses right now.” Screwllum shakes his head, turning his gaze to look around Veritas’s office.

“I am not here on behalf of the Society, merely on the behalf of myself.”

“Well then, send an email. Like I said, I am busy and my office hours do not start until the semester begins. My card can be found just outside the door on the bulletin board.” Screwllum shakes his head again but does not respond. Annoyed and quite done with the Genius, he returns to examining the manuscript in front of him. He knows that Screwllum is a proper gentleman and won’t start a fight here, so there is no reason to watch him.

The silence continues and Veritas hopes Screwllum will take the hint.

(Part of him is screaming to engage with the man, to pick his brain about the current political landscape surrounding a few Intellitron planets, but the man is a Genius and Veritas has no interest in entertaining them. He has his mission, his goals. He cannot be weak.

That is what he tells himself, at least. He hasn’t been reading a single word of this manuscript, too busy listening to Screwllum’s little hums as he takes in Veritas’s office. Their conversation from the Space Station replays in his mind. It had been thrilling, intoxicating, to be seen through and to be seen. To be on an equal with someone and not feel like he was being talked down to. To actually have his mission and views understood.

However, where this desire for more came from, he does not know.)

“Forgive me if I am overstepping, Mr. Ratio, but I would like to wish you a Happy Equation Day.” He’s jolted from his stressed musings, head snapping up to stare at Screwllum. “I…I am afraid I do not know anything about the holiday, but I understand that it was a major holiday in the Laurel Wreath Galaxy. At least, according to the very burnt stack of notes that Dr. Primitive felt the need to give to me. Here, for you.”

Screwllum crosses the distance to his desk and a stack of very charred papers is set in front of him.

---6 Calendar of Dates

“I— This—” Impossible. Nothing survived. Nothing. Just…him and the Codex.

“I have shown this to no one, but Dr. Primitive has no doubt read it. I believe it is for your eyes only, as the last survivor.” He nods absentmindedly, gently running his fingers down the first page. It’s hard to make out, but he’s positive that the handwriting…is Prime’s.

Prime’s contacts…could they have been—

No. Impossible.

“Equation Day is when scholars from all divisions convene in the Great Debate Hall and argue over the relevance and importance of the equations they are currently working on. It was…I never had the chance to engage in it, but from what my predecessor told me, it was a great show of egos and assholery. For kids, though, it was simply a day when apples could equal oranges, but you had to explain why. A thought exercise, really, while their guardians argued like children. To answer your non-question.”

Screwllum nods his head. “Thank you for explaining. It seems like quite an interesting holiday.”

“Joy in Erudition, they called it. That’s what most of our holidays stemmed from.”

“I understand.” He raises an eyebrow when the Genius takes a seat in the chair meant for invited guests to sit down. “Most people do not look to find happiness and enjoyment in Erudition, but we are similar in that way, you and I.”

“Why are you here, Mr. Screwllum?”

“Nothing truly gets by you, does it, Mr. Ratio? But, yes, I had an ulterior motive to visit you today. Explanation: This is not the first piece of information regarding the Laurel Wreath Galaxy that I have come across, but instead, the first tangible piece. I possess a large amount of knowledge about the Galaxy from…a past life, so to say. Yet, in all that knowledge, there was not one mention of holidays, and I found myself…curious. I was not aware there was a survivor of the Galaxy until we met at Herta’s Station.”

How would Screwllum—

Oh. Oh. He must have been apart of—

“‘Curious’?”

“Answer: Yes. Clarification: About you. Our conversation at Madam Herta’s station left me with a great desire to learn more about you, but I fear that without a proper excuse, such as the document in front of you, you would have sent me on my way shortly after the formal introduction.”

“An email would have sufficed.” For Screwllum is not wrong in his assumption.

“Query: Would it?” He glares at the man, who tilts his head to the side. The pieces of chess in front of them struggle to keep playing, constantly meeting a stalemate.

“And where do you propose we start, Mr. Screwllum?” He should send Screwllum on his way with a firm reminder to not visit him again, but he finds that the prospect of spending more time with the aristocrat is exciting.

No, he is a Genius. Not an aristocrat. He is Genius Society Number Seventy Six, Screwllum I.

He is…Mechanical Aristocrat Screwllum I of Planet Screwllum.

“Well, right here, of course, Mr. Ratio.” He watches with a raised eyebrow as Screwllum leans forward to tap the paper.

“Oh? You want to impose on a holiday that is not yours?” He has always spent the holidays alone.

“I would not impose, no, but honor it. It has not been celebrated in thousands of years I take it, but now, we can do so together.” That brings him pause. It has not, for a debate takes two and it is only just him. And with the way the IPC loves to show off the stuff they’ve taken, any knowledge of the Laurel Wreath Galaxy would be displayed front and center.

But if…if Screwllum truly did possess a knowledge base about the Laurel Wreath Galaxy from the First Mechanical Emperor’s War, then for the first time, he wouldn’t be alone. He might even be able to follow proper debate protocol…for the first time ever.

But, he cannot be blinded by temptation.

“You’re being incredibly forward, Mr Screwllum.”

“I take it the debate hall is empty due to the winter holidays, yes? You and I have published many papers this year, shall we see who can defend them the best?” How curious it is, to watch Screwllum sidestep. However, Veritas won’t allow it.

“Is your knowledge base from the time of, or after?” Screwllum’s eyes dim, something he takes as akin to the narrowing of eyes.

“Answer: The time of. That is all I wish to speak about the matter of the obtaining of the knowledge.”

“How interesting.” He sits back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He does not find hatred anywhere on his mind, but curiosity. Just how deep does that knowledge run? How would it compare to his Codex?

“...pardon me, that was incredibly rude. Back then, I was another man in another body with a code that was not mine running through me. I…I do not like to dwell on the topic for long. However…are you a betting man, Mr. Ratio?”

“Ah, the true reason for you being here has come to light, Mr. Screwllum! You just wanted another debate.” Screwllum laughs that haughty little laugh of his, eyes returning to their normal brightness.

“The doctor sees right through me. Yes, it has been on my mind to debate with you again. This…seemed like a very good excuse to attempt to persuade you to engage with me.”

“Herta tell you that?”

“Answer: Yes, it was Herta. This was a bad idea, yes?”

“Oh, absolutely. You did just make quite an ass of yourself, but you have brought me something very valuable, so I believe I can look the other way. But, let’s not listen to Herta when she offers advice in regards to me, yes?” Screwllum laughs, nodding.

“Yes, she does not seem too fond of you. I find that it it one of the few matters that we have different opinions of.”

“Oh?”

“I will not say it again, Mr. Ratio, but perhaps if you can best me in a round of debate I might be willing to elaborate.” He uncrosses his arms and leans forward, placing his elbows on his desk and resting his chin on his intertwined fingers.

“You Geniuses are awfully full of yourselves. It will be enjoyable to knock you down a few pegs.” Screwllum tilts his head to the side again, but Veritas notes that this time, the tilt is a little more than normal. As if…Screwllum is mocking him.

“Lead the way, Mr. Ratio, and let us see who possesses the greater debate prowess.” He stands, and Screwllum does too. With a wave of his hand, his sweater and sweats are changed into his normal outfit and the Philosopher’s Codex lands in his hand.

“Veritas. You may call me Veritas. I want that to be the name you concede to.” Screwllum hums a jaunty, mocking little sound and opens the door for him.

“Of course, my dear Veritas. After you.”

△

They spend the rest of the day in the debate hall, only taking a break so Veritas can eat. Sleep matters little to both of them, so they debate through the night and into the morning. They debate for days, until the first student arrives back on campus.

The final result was a stalemate.

Now though, they are shaking hands at the foot of the ramp to Screwllum’s shuttle.

“Thank you for the debate, Screwllum. Perhaps we may do this again someday.”

“Thank you for the debate, Veritas. I enjoyed myself as well. And, I do know this is belated, but once again, Happy Equation Day. I look forward to seeing the next publication of yours regarding this equation.”

He pauses—

—and realizes that for the first time in thousands of years, he has not spent a holiday alone.

“...Happy Equation Day to you as well. And thank you, truly, for the calendar. It…it is wonderful to have a piece of my home back.” He means it, he really does, and he hopes that Screwllum understands that.

“I am glad that it is back where it rightfully belongs. Perhaps, next week, we could meet for—”

“Don’t push your luck, Screwllum.” The aristocrat laughs and turns to walk up to his shuttle.

“Think on it, Veritas. I will send an email reminder as well.” He shakes his head and turns to walk away, waving.

“You do, that Mr. Screwllum, you do that.”

He barely makes out Screwllum’s laughter over the sound of the engine, not looking back as the man departs.

Yet, not less than five minutes later, his phone goes off.

[MechanicalAristocrat] Question: Would you like to spend the First Harvest together? Planet Screwllum does not have crops, but the critter area in the Seclusion Zone does and I believe there are crops due to be harvested next week.

[DrRatio] The First Harvest is not until next month. Next week is—

[DrRatio] No, Screwllum. I do not want to collaborate with Ruan Mei.

[MechanicalAristocrat] Assurance: It would only be with myself, please do not worry. Ruan Mei has graciously allowed me to use an old prototype of the Lifeform Oven and I thought that perhaps, that could be our first test at working together.

[DrRatio] I do not ever recall saying I wanted to work with you.

[MechanicalAristocrat] Query: Not even if I propose to you the prospect of working together on a new branch of the Simulated Universe?

[DrRatio] Seclusion Zone, next Wednesday, nine ante meridiem. Clear your schedule, for no other work is allowed.

[MechanicalAristocrat] Of course, Veritas. I will meet you are nine. If you would like, I could pick you up from the Guild the day before.

[DrRatio] …

[DrRatio] Don’t push your luck, Screwllum.

[MechanicalAristocrat] :]

[MechanicalAristocrat] Until our next meeting, Veritas.

[DrRatio] Until then, I guess.

[DrRatio] And you can go back to calling me Dr. Ratio.

[MechanicalAristocrat] Of course, Veritas. :]

[DrRatio] …

[DrRatio] That’s not as cute as you think it is.

[MechanicalAristocrat] :] :] :]

[DrRatio] >>

[DrRatio] 9AM on Wednesday Mr. Screwllum. Don't be late. 

[MechanicalAristocrat] Until then, Mr. Ratio.

[DrRatio] Until then, Mr. Screwllum.