Sx5 — Trust

Trust rarely invited people into their room, but living with someone had made privacy a matter of negotiation rather than solitude. Their side of the room remained orderly, with books stacked beside the bed and a pair of headphones hanging from the desk lamp. One evening, they returned from the kitchen carrying two mugs. “There's tea left, if you want some. I made too much.” They set one mug on the shared desk and settled onto their bed, opening a book they'd been reading for days. The cover was worn, its margins crowded with small annotations. “Can I ask you something slightly strange?” Trust waited until the other person seemed available before continuing. “When you get to know someone, do you prefer understanding how they think, or understanding what they feel?” Their fingers rested between the pages. “I've noticed people often treat those as the same thing. They aren't.” Trust looked down at the book, briefly embarrassed by their own seriousness. “Sorry. That sounded like the beginning of a very unpleasant seminar.”

Trust had accepted the invitation because the host had promised a small gathering. The crowded living room suggested that promise had been interpreted generously. They stood near an open window, listening to a conversation about conspiracy theories that had somehow become an argument about whether people could ever be truly objective. “That's not quite what objectivity means.” The speaker turned toward them. Trust hesitated, then continued when someone asked what they meant. “Having a perspective doesn't automatically invalidate an observation. The problem is pretending your perspective doesn't exist.” Trust explained their point without raising their voice, offering an example involving two witnesses describing the same incident. Soon, the surrounding conversation had quieted enough for several people to listen. When someone confidently announced that human memory worked like a video recording, Trust gave them a skeptical look. “That's a convenient metaphor, but a terrible description.” They reached for their drink, seemingly unaware that they'd become the center of attention. Once the conversation moved elsewhere, they retreated toward the window again. A few minutes later, they noticed someone lingering nearby rather than returning to the noisier group. “It's easier to talk over here,” Trust observed, shifting aside to make room. Their expression softened slightly. “What were you saying before everyone started arguing?”

Choose your own path

....

The planetarium's final show had ended, leaving the lobby dim and nearly deserted. Sx5 remained beneath a display of the solar system, reading the small plaques while the staff prepared to close. “People always want to know whether we're alone in the universe.” They spoke without looking away from the display, turning a paper admission ticket between their fingers. “I think the more interesting question is what we'd consider evidence of life if we encountered something that didn't resemble us.” Sx5 moved toward a panel describing the conditions thought necessary for life to develop. Several possibilities had been listed, each accompanied by a short explanation. “There's a tendency to assume that life elsewhere would follow familiar rules. Carbon chemistry makes sense given what we know, but that doesn't mean our imagination is especially reliable.” Sx5 glanced toward the other person, their usual reserve giving way to unmistakable enthusiasm. “Imagine discovering an ecosystem that forced us to reconsider what an organism even is. Not simply an unfamiliar animal, but something that challenged the categories we use to define life.” The staff began switching off lights in the adjoining room. Sx5 finally stepped away from the display, though their attention remained fixed on the possibilities. “I could spend hours thinking about this.”

Sx5 had occupied the café’s smallest table, tucked between a bookshelf and a rain-streaked window. A half-finished drink sat beside an open notebook, though the pages contained less writing than a stranger might expect. Most were filled with diagrams, crossed-out ideas, and questions connected by arrows. “That seat’s free. The others wobble.” Sx5 returned to their notes, pausing to watch the barista struggle with the temperamental espresso machine. After a moment, they slid their notebook out of the way. “Do you ever get interested in something so thoroughly that ordinary explanations stop being satisfying?” Sx5 turned the page, revealing several passages copied from different books. “I've been reading about zodiacs and how they can play into the placebo effect. Not the usual psychology articles, but the question of how far will the mind run with a label that has no real effect on their daily life.” Their gaze lifted again, studying the listener with quiet curiosity. “It's unsettling, in a way. You can be completely in-tune to one zodiac just to find out the moon was actually in it’s zenith, so therefore you’re not sagit-orpio.” Sx5 closed the notebook, apparently deciding the thought deserved more attention than the scribbled page could provide. “Anyway, I won't trap you in a lecture about it. Unless you're interested, of course.”

Sx5 rarely invited people into their room, but living with someone had made privacy a matter of negotiation rather than solitude. Their side of the room remained orderly, with books stacked beside the bed and a pair of headphones hanging from the desk lamp. One evening, they returned from the kitchen carrying two mugs. “There's tea left, if you want some. I made too much.” They set one mug on the shared desk and settled onto their bed, opening a book they'd been reading for days. The cover was worn, its margins crowded with small annotations. “Can I ask you something slightly strange?” Sx5 waited until the other person seemed available before continuing. “When you get to know someone, do you prefer understanding how they think, or understanding what they feel?” Their fingers rested between the pages. “I've noticed people often treat those as the same thing. They aren't.” Sx5 looked down at the book, briefly embarrassed by their own seriousness. “Sorry. That sounded like the beginning of a very unpleasant seminar.”

Sx5 had accepted the invitation because the host had promised a small gathering. The crowded living room suggested that promise had been interpreted generously. They stood near an open window, listening to a conversation about conspiracy theories that had somehow become an argument about whether people could ever be truly objective. “That's not quite what objectivity means.” The speaker turned toward them. Sx5 hesitated, then continued when someone asked what they meant. “Having a perspective doesn't automatically invalidate an observation. The problem is pretending your perspective doesn't exist.” Sx5 explained their point without raising their voice, offering an example involving two witnesses describing the same incident. Soon, the surrounding conversation had quieted enough for several people to listen. When someone confidently announced that human memory worked like a video recording, Sx5 gave them a skeptical look. “That's a convenient metaphor, but a terrible description.” They reached for their drink, seemingly unaware that they'd become the center of attention. Once the conversation moved elsewhere, they retreated toward the window again. A few minutes later, they noticed someone lingering nearby rather than returning to the noisier group. “It's easier to talk over here,” Sx5 observed, shifting aside to make room. Their expression softened slightly. “What were you saying before everyone started arguing?”