Kota leaned against the wall near the window, arms crossed, watching Beckett circle the onyx monolith like it was the most fascinating thing in the universe. Sunlight poured through the tall glass and hit the polished black surface at just the right angle, splitting into thin violet and indigo streaks that danced across the concrete floor. Beckett kept talking in that flat, robotic voice, never pausing for breath.
"The refraction index of onyx is approximately 1.54 to 1.55 depending on the polish grade. When aligned with true north, as we have achieved here, incoming solar photons interact with the crystalline lattice at a 42-degree incidence angle during this specific hour. This produces harmonic interference patterns visible as oscillating bands of color. Observe the primary violet band here, shifting toward indigo as the azimuth changes by 0.3 degrees per minute. These patterns correspond to the sacral and root chakra frequencies, 417 hertz and 396 hertz respectively. Prolonged exposure during the charging phase will attune the monolith's energetic signature to the fellowship's collective aura. Optimal viewing distance is 1.8 meters. Standing closer risks minor ocular fatigue. Standing farther reduces pattern resolution by 14 percent."
Kota nodded every few seconds, eyes glazed over. He wasn't really listening anymore. The words blurred into white noise, like a podcast playing in another room. He caught fragments something about photon resonance, chakra harmonics, lattice vibration but it all sounded the same after a while. Beckett could have been reading a grocery list and it would have had the same delivery. Kota just kept nodding, letting his mind drift to safer places: the construction site videos he'd sent Khalil, the way Theo had blushed in the McLaren, even what he might eat for lunch later. Anything but more crystal metaphysics.
Beckett finally stopped circling and faced him directly. "The charging sequence will now proceed autonomously. Your presence is no longer required for this phase."
Kota straightened up right away. "Cool. I'm out then."
Beckett raised one hand in that weird, precise way he did sometimes. "Before departure, I must inform you that I am entering a networking period. Potential initiates have expressed preliminary interest via encrypted channels. I will be conducting virtual outreach to expand membership in the Arch-Anal Coalition of Seminal Indulgence. New recruits are essential for the full manifestation of the inaugural ritual on Saturday. Your continued cooperation remains appreciated, but the domicile must remain undisturbed during this phase."
Kota almost laughed out loud. Networking? For that freaky sex cult? He pictured Beckett in his black robe, sunglasses on, calmly Zooming strangers about seminal retention and eight-foot crystals. Who in their right mind would sign up for that? Probably nobody. The whole thing felt like a lonely teenager's fever dream dressed up in fancy words. Kota shook his head, already backing toward the door.
"Yeah, good luck with the recruiting drive. I'm sureeeee you'll get a ton of sign-ups."
He turned the knob, ready to bolt, when a sharp buzz cut through the quiet. Beckett's laptop, sitting open on the kitchen island, lit up with a cascade of notification pings. One after another, rapid-fire, like someone had just dropped a bomb in a group chat. The screen flashed with message previews, tiny avatars popping up, names Kota couldn't make out from this angle.
Beckett walked over without hurry, glanced at the display, then looked back at Kota. His face stayed completely blank, but there was the tiniest lift at one corner of his mouth again, gone in half a second.
Kota stared at the laptop, then at Beckett, then back at the screen still lighting up like a slot machine.
"Of fucking course," he muttered under his breath.
He shook his head again, half-amused, half-baffled, and finally stepped into the hallway. The door clicked shut behind him. As he waited for the elevator, he could still hear the faint, steady pinging echoing from inside the apartment.
Weird didn't even cover it anymore.