In the order of they/them/their/theirs/themself, the neopronouns are as follows:
Ne/nem/ner/ners/nemself
(Same sounds as "bee", "them" and "nerd")
Key/kir/kir/kirs/kirself
(Same sounds as the word "key" and "peer")
The counter in front of nem was a cool granite, speckled with black and grey with an off-white background. Ne leaned into it, it's beveled edge thankfully not cutting into ner stomach. The hardness of it all was still a little uncomfortable, and when ne rested ner arm on its surface, it was frighteningly cold against ner skin (sweaters were not allowed).
Still, ne would gladly endure it if it meant ne could ground nemself, ner thoughts were beginning to get away from nem again. Ne wasn't paying much attention to what specifically ne was thinking, so for the moment ne could just discern the general thought of "I'm going to mess up and things will go wrong" and a constant background feeling of anxiety.
Ne leaned into the counter, the granite smooth under ner fingers and chilling ner arm. The hard counter pressed uncomfortably into ner stomach. Cloudy plastic stood near ner head and stretched around the entire counter, a barrier separating nemself from the people on the other side. There was a large, square gap in the plastic barrier where ner hands lay. This close, ne could see various scratches and smudged fingerprints on the plastic, and ne idly wondered how they got there.
There were three people wandering around the racks of clothes on the other side. One woman was carrying five dresses on her arm while she examined the clothes in front of her, behind her, someone moved into the dressing rooms. The lights on the ceiling hummed softly, the clack of shoes sounded on the grey, linoleum floor, snippets of conversation drifted over to nem from across the store.
Ne sighed, everything was fine. Ne was simply a cashier standing behind a counter. The customers were not affected by nem, shopping freely. Everything was in order, ne was doing exactly what ne was supposed to be doing when no one was paying: standing around. When someone came around, ne would help them pay. Ne wasn't somehow interfering with what ne would eventually have to do. No, ne was doing exactly what ne was supposed to: standing around. Everything was in order.
Ne sighed again, the anxiety slowly leaving nem as ne continued reassuring nemself.
Harlow had been working at this job for some time now. A few months back ne realised ne could simply not continue as things were. Ner family was poor, and sometimes struggled to find appropriate, filling food. In addition, Harlow couldn't stand the feeling of not being able to afford what ne wanted, only getting the essentials.
(Nor could ne deal with the guilt of buying what ne wanted with ner mother's money. Ne could work, and yet ne chose not to. They were poor, and yet there Harlow was, draining away their funds without even a chance of paying it back. Selfish...
Ner mother said it was fine, but she was too kind.)
And so Harlow resolved to do something. Ne could help! And so ne needed to. Ne searched for "now hiring" posters stuck on store windows and haunted job websites to find local openings. There were many to choose from, so when Harlow lined up interviews with the highest paying ones ne was confident ne could land one with decent pay.
It was ner first time ever doing interviews. The first one was a fast food restaurant, and Harlow remembered waiting in the parking lot, heart hammering, with ner mum. Before it was time to go in, ner mum had told nem how proud she was. She hugged nem, rubbing ner back, and spoke wistfully about how fast her darling child was growing up...
Harlow jerked up, shaking nemself out of ner reverie when ne realised ne'd drifted off. Ne pushed nemself away from the counter, standing at attention once more. Ne couldn't be distracted on the job! No way ne'd let nemself be caught off guard by a customer or something.
Now more aware, Harlow suddenly became reminded of the soreness of ner feet. Ne had been standing for three hours now, so it was unavoidable. Leaning against the counter would provide a bit of relief, since ne'd have something else to put ner weight on, but not much. Ne wouldn't be able to stay like that long anyway, the position would quickly grow uncomfortable for ner back.
Harlow shifted painfully on ner feet, and wondered angrily for the thousandth time why management didn't just give cashiers chairs to sit on. What, did they think standing would somehow increase productivity? Make cashiers look more attentive? Nonsense, all it would do is spare them some pain!
Ne huffed. Ne had been able to land this job, a cashier for a second hand store, for $21 an hour. Harlow was honestly quite proud ne was able get a job that paid that much, even if proudness for such a thing felt... strange. Frankly, though, ne thought that that was way less than what workers should be paid! Come on, Boxtree made millions a year off its second hand stores, it could afford to give its employees at least a livable wage.
If they wouldn't raise their wages so their employees could live, then they could at least raise them to compensate workers for dealing with the horrors of retail.
From the very little training new hires got (Harlow was yet to see the long promised orientation video), to the inconsiderate bosses who kept demanding they do jobs not in their contracts (No, Harlow would not be taking inventory), to those same bosses asking they do work outside of their contractual hours, it was safe to say work was unfair.
Ugh. Really, apart from the money, the only good thing about work was ner coworkers.
Suddenly, the door was thrown open, and with it being next to the checkout, Harlow immediately saw who.
"Hey Harlow! You'll never guess what I came across last night—" Lantern babbled, face full of cheer. Harlow instantly brightened, excited to see ner friend, and leaned toward kir. Oh thank god, someone to save nem from ner boredom!
Lantern was dressed in standard uniform: blue shirt with a Boxtree logo, black pants, and the classic black, non-slip shoes. Key wore a blue visor, despite it being 8pm (Lantern always wore it, even when it didn't make sense. When Harlow had asked why, key said something about the weight and pressure).
Key had kir linen tote bag slung around kir shoulder, a picture of Misha Collins screenprinted on its sides.
Lantern's blonde, ponytailed hair swished as kir gaze swept across the store. Key paused, and kir brows furrowed as key seemed to do a double take.
"Dude, is there only like, five people in the store?"
"Six actually, someone's in the changing rooms."
Lantern stood still a moment, before a wide smile spread across kir face, "Ohoho, great! If this is the busiest my shift will get, then my next few hours will basically be free!" Key sauntered around the counter and walked through the gate at its side to join Harlow. Harlow smiled and held a fist out, and Lantern immediately lightly bumped kir fist into ners, returning a jagged smile of kir own.
Lantern placed a hand under kir chin and looked past the counter. "Maybe I'll do some homework..." Key said, and for a moment key looked legitimately thoughtful, eyes cast to the side and expression muted. But then a light sparked behind kir eyes, and it suddenly seemed like Lantern was trying to suppress a smile. "Orrr..."
Key snatched something inside kir tote and swiftly placed it on the counter.
"I can use this radio I fixed up!"
Harlow's eyes widened, "No way!". A grin stretched ner face and ne grabbed the radio, slowly turning it over. "Woah..." it was a silver, sort of 2000s looking thing. Or at least what Harlow imagined a 2000s radio would look like. It was scuffed up in plenty of places, with a few dirt stains. There was a faded sticker on the left side, showing a cartoon rainbow with pie cut eyes giving a gloved thumbs up. The radio was sort of pill shaped, with two grey, oval speakers on its front.
"Where'd you find this?" Harlow asked, looking up at Lantern with bright eyes.
"Near the road!" Key replied, equally excited, "I was cycling home from work yesterday when I saw this radio, it was near the bush that's next to the sidewalk." Lantern gently grabbed the radio from Harlow, and ne leaned against the counter while facing kir. Ne rested ner right arm on the countertop and started pressing down each finger with ner thumb (pointer, middle, ring, pinkie...), before covering ner thumb with ner fingers, and repeating.
Lantern pointed at the seam that connected the front and back plates of the radio, smiling. "It was split open here, and a lot of the insides were flown out! Most of it was right next to it, but I found some of its parts in the brush."
Harlow's hand formed a fist with ner thumb tucked between ner fingers, and ne shook it a little. Harlow looked up at Lantern's face with wide eyes and a large grin, "You found it near the bush? Dude, that's so cool!". Ne started doing ner hand thing again, quicker than before. "You said it was split open?"
"Yeah, so I had to reassemble it. All that time I was picking up pieces I was worried I'd miss something." Key said ruefully, looking bemused. "But I'm pretty sure I got it all." Lantern nodded kir head and unconsciously made a downward motion with kir hands for emphasis.
Harlow raised a brow, "Only pretty sure?"
"Well, it's working!"
Harlow chuckled, "Ha, yeah. Guess that's enough." Ne interlocked ner fingers and placed ner head on ner hands. Balancing one elbow on the counter, ne leaned toward the radio, eyes bright. With a smile ne said "C'mon, if it's working, then turn it on!"
"Alright, alright!" Lantern extended the radio's silver antenna and put kir hand on the power switch. With a cat like smile and sharp eyes, key paused for a moment, before flipping it dramatically.
"—top of their league, Barcelona's selection was last week—"
"Ta–daa!"
"Wow..." Harlow breathed. Ne couldn't believe it worked! And now ne and Lantern had an entire radio for free? Rad.
"Yeah, it's pretty cool." Lantern smiled. Key turned toward the radio and started messing with the dials. "I was browsing around the different channels and I found a really interesting one! Apparently we have a local news channel specifically for our city." Kir tongue stuck out as key kept on fiddling, "Aha! Here it is."
The radio crackled before a voice started emerging from the sea of static. It was soft at first, the words being swept away by the white noise. As Lantern adjusted the dials, the voice slowly became stronger, eventually ringing clear.
"—In honour of establishing her little library, Miss Westenra is inviting people to visit at 12pm this Saturday to share and donate books. She'll be hosting a sausage sizzle for—"
The voice sounded young, maybe around their age. Or at least Harlow thought— ne was never the best at guessing age, but it was easy to imagine hearing them in one of ner classes. Did they hire people that young to be radio hosts? That'd be a cool job. Wait, did radio-company-people even do radio stations for specific towns?
Oh! Maybe this was one of those "homemade" radio channels! Harlow wasn't sure what exactly went into getting one, but ne knew that anyone could theoretically have their own radio channel.
The image of someone in their room, recording equipment splayed around them, blossomed in ner mind. With a personal radio channel, one could broadcast any story they wanted to tell to only the people in their area. A signal, flung out into the abyss, like gossamer web, flinging out, hoping to catch something. It would be okay even if it caught nothing. It was like sharing something in a story circle, the experience was made personal by being told to only the people around you. One could even keep themself anonymous, Harlow thought, and have it be like a diary with an unknown author, freely given for anyone to read.
And what of this person? They were reporting on things happening in their community, informing people about any group events, like a public bulletin board. How many people did they talk to? How many people talked to them? Did they know their neighbours personally, would they know when Ms Harker needed someone to deliver groceries to her? Would they know when Mr Jones needed someone to mend his clothes? Would they tell everyone, on their radio, that he'd happily give away some cuttings from his garden to anyone who'd help?
(And if the situations were reversed, would they do the same for them?)
(If it were Harlow, could ne fall on them? Could ner family?)
How many of these events did they go to themself? Harlow imagined going out into the community, looking around for any signs taped to poles— Free movie viewing, 8pm at the library! Knitting Group 5pm @ community centre!— and asking to know more. Ne imagined going to meetups, or maybe even a 1-on-1 at a coffee shop, with some acquaintances, and asking after their lives. Learning at least a little about that person, finding out what they've been up to, or what they've been planning.
The structured topics they're broadcasting implied at least some drafting for a script. Harlow imagined keeping a notebook of the interesting things ne learned about ner community members. After all, there would be too much to hope to fit into one brain. Ne imagined picking out what everyone ne spoke to wanted to get out there, and anything else ne was excited to talk about. Ne imagined sitting down, chamomile tea in hand, and drafting out the story ne wanted to share...
"...Y'know," Harlow began, shaking off ner reverie. Ne felt strange. "I'm pretty impressed that it's still working. If I threw my phone against the sidewalk and it split open that thing would be a goner." Ne really was impressed.
Lantern chuckled, "Haha, yeah." Key lightly slapped the side of the radio, then gave Harlow a crooked grin and compressed kir voice, making kir sound all nasally, "Heh, they just don't make tech like they used to, amirite?"
"This looks like it was from the 2000s, that was only—" Harlow did some quick mental maths, "christ. 20 years ago." If someone said "20 years ago" ne would assume it was some time in the 90s. But at the same time, the 2000s being 20 years ago settled into ner mind, slotting in perfectly with the exact distance that time felt.
"Don't look so harrowed, Harlow." Lantern said with an impish grin, "It's not like you were alive back then. It's not like you can be distantly horrified by the passage of time because you suddenly feel like an old geezer."
"Excuse you," Harlow replied with a puckish smile of ner own, "I'm perfectly capable of being distantly horrified by anything! Perks of having an anxiety disorder." Ne punctuated this with a flick of ner dark, curly hair.
Lantern laughed, and did kir best to stifle it, seeing as they were at work.
They fell into a lull, doing nothing but listen to the radio. Harlow kept watch for the inevitable moment a customer would come up to the counter.
Harlow began to wonder what they should do with the radio when that happened. Should they hide it...? Pretend it's part of the store...? While ner thoughts drifted, the radio gave a few closing words, and played a short melody. "In other news," it began after a short pause, "I'm excited to announce, my dear listeners, that there will be a robotics tournament held in our town!".
That caught Harlow's attention, instantly snapping nem out of ner thoughts. Harlow and Lantern both stared wide-eyed at the radio, suddenly listening with rapt attention.
"The tournament is a good-old robo fight! Contestants will build their robots with the materials provided by the hosts, and then control it in a fight against an opponent's robot."
Instantly, they turned to each other, and Lantern said "Dude! We have to enter!" at the same time that Harlow said "Lantern, we should totally join!".
The radio continued, halting their conversation, "There will be a grand prize of $500—" Well now they definitely had to join "—with some prizes for runner-ups. The tournament will begin in 2 months. Contact the hosts in the next 2 weeks to join at CMRobotics.com.au. I repeat, that's CMRobotics.com.au."
Lantern scrambled to get a pen and sticky notes, and started furiously scribbling down.
"Potential contestants will be contacted shortly after the 2-week deadline. If selected, you will have a month to build your robot with the provided materials before the actual fights begin. For more information, visit CMRobotics.com.au."
Another jingle, another short pause, and the speaker moved on to another topic.
Harlow turned down the volume so they could talk easier.
"So, do you want to join?" Ne said, just to be sure.
"Of course!" Lantern replied. "It'll be so much fun. And then there's the prize money..."
"I know right! I wonder if we'd get $500 each or for our team— wait, do they even do teams? Gosh, an extra $500 dollars would be nice." Harlow would appreciate a bit more wiggle room in their spendings. "Did you get the website?"
"Yeah, I wrote it down on the sticky note. We should look them up after—"
"Excuse me?" A man said, holding a basket at the counter.
He looked annoyed, which Harlow supposed was fair, but ne was too busy being terrified that he would snap at them to think about that.
Luckily, Lantern swooped in to handle the customer, saving Harlow from having to speak to him just then. Once ne worked through enough of the paralysis to start moving again, ne hovered nearby Lantern, ready to assist.
They'd talk more about the robotics tournament tomorrow.
"Hello! This is basically my first work of fiction. Before this, it's mostly been stuff for school, but I wanted to write for myself! This was really fun to make :).
This work will likely never be expanded upon, so bear that in mind. It was really fun doing my first chapter, though!
I really needed to see more characters use neos so I took matters into my own hands. It was fun, nice, and comforting.
I wrote this by randomly generating five words: Tournament, transmission, laborer, grand and discourage for a prompt and going from there. This was mostly because my bus lady invited me to join her writing group, where they write weekly stories based off a random nine words, and then critique eachother's works.
I'm anxious and felt I didn't write enough so I declined her offer for now and thanked her. Maybe when I write more. It also reminded me of what jellopocalypse did for anime campaign. I thought it was cool so I did that for this work.
I wanted this to be at least 2000 words 'cus that's the longest I've written for a creative work and I wanted to outdo myself.
By the way, the Misha Collins tote was inspired by a sequin pillow at a lgbtq+ youth club, which had misha's face on it (although I did not know who it was at the time). The gossamer web stuff is from the poem "a noiseless, patient spider" cus that's just how I could best explain what I was saying.
Hope you enjoyed and have a good day!"
(PS, I was initially writing this as if covid was a thing, then midway through I just kinda... Forgot... So let's say that in this world, covid was a thing, but they managed quell it before it truly spread, and Boxtree just hadn't taken down the barrier yet. Also a cure was invented before anyone died.)