“I think a G-sharp would be good here.”

Octavia glanced at her girlfriend, who was lying in bed on her side - now in Octavia’s flat, where there was both food and a normal oven that didn’t take an hour to preheat to one-eighty degrees - and scribbling on a piece of music paper.

“With all due respect, love,” Octavia said warmly, taking the paper away from Vinyl, who rolled on her back to grab it, and erasing the note. “A G-sharp here would be a sin against music.” With that, she booped Vinyl on the nose.

“Beethoven,” Vinyl lifted her finger meaningfully, “would often throw a G-sharp here and there in such situations.” She rolled over again, this time ending on top of Octavia’s back, and tried to grab the paper away.

“In this case,” Octavia let her spinner take the music away from her and shrugged the woman off her back, “Beethoven was a sinner. A music sinner.” Angel Octavia shook her fist in the air: The fires of Hell await you, sinner! Devil Octavia blinked: What. “Gimme the paper so a properly trained classical musician can do her thing.”

“Nu-uh.” Vinyl shook her hand and buried the paper under the blanket. “I’m the composer, I decide where to put the G-sharp.” She smiled mischievously, igniting Devil Vinyl on fire. Literally. Angel Vinyl blinked. All right. That’s anime-tier weirdness here. “You’re just…” She poked Octavia’s tummy. “Just my own, private, personal session cellist.”

“Ack!” Octavia grabbed the spinner’s finger, pressing it against her lips. “You wound me, Mistress! You wound me so!” She pressed the back of her hand against her forehead and pretended to be faint. “Oh, Mistress, how could you call your one and only love a mere session cellist!”

For a moment, lack of understanding crossed Vinyl’s eyes, but the meekness of the past gave way to the joy of the present. So she just put the tip of her index finger in her mouth. “Oh, I’m so, so sorry!” She licked the aforementioned finger, with Octavia peeking out at her curiously. “It’s this...tongue of mine…” Vinyl licked her lips seductively and crawled on top of Octavia, who, at this time, was lying on her bed, already flustered and feeling more than a little hot. “I guess… my tongue will have to… fix this little problem?” Vinyl wiggled her brow seductively.

“Oh yes.” Octavia blinked, wrapping her arms around the DJ, dragging her into a kiss. “So much yes.” The cellist had just felt the offending tongue enter her mouth, begging for forgiveness, when the new ringtone decided that it hadn’t been tried on yet, and rang like the good ringtone it was, a thick, bawdy jazz, an old rendition of Move by the famous George Shearing Quintet.

Octavia did like jazz, and she especially liked Shearing, but right now she couldn’t hate the tune more. Escaping Vinyl’s mouth with a loud pop, she groaned upon looking on the screen. “It’s Frederic. I’ll put it on mute.”

And she was ready to do just that when Vinyl interrupted her. “Wait, Tavi! What if it’s about Neon?”

Seeing the worry in her girlfriend’s eyes, Octavia immediately took up the phone. “Frederic? Is something… wrong?” She tried not to give way to worry in her tone, then realised with sudden revelation that she did feel worry towards Vinyl’s brother, maybe for a moment, but real, genuine worry. Immediately, the cellist felt better. And then, immediately, felt bad for feeling better.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Frederic’s voice came through, “I just wanted to talk to you about something.” He paused. “Neon’s okay. Well… As okay as he can be at the moment.”

“Neon’s fine,” Octavia whispered to Vinyl, who almost collapsed in relief. Well, who did collapse in relief, and on top of Octavia at that. With an ‘uff’, Octavia spoke into the phone again: “Great, Freddie, you should totally call some other time. We were just about to have sex.”

“But what if I tell you,” Frederic’s confident voice echoed from the phone, “that I have something to offer you? Something better than sex?”

Octavia laughed and waved her hand slightly, more of an automatic motion, since she knew Frederic couldn’t see her. Meanwhile, she tickled Vinyl on her side, making the spinner giggle and make wavy, snake-like motions on top of her. “Freddie, I am absolutely certain nothing you can offer us is better than the hot lesbian sex we’re about to have.” With that, she grabbed Vinyl and drew her in. “So thank you and-”

“Wait, just hear me out.” Frederic didn’t exactly come off as desperate, but there was a strain in his voice that Octavia didn’t like. “I just had a genius idea and now I want to share it with you two. Meet me at Grabby’s in an hour.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure, why not.” Octavia hung up and tossed the phone away, watching it his one of the pillows. “Now…” she purred into Vinyl’s ear, the vibrations of her voice sending the spinner over the edge already. “Freddie wants us to meet in an hour, so we have enough time…”

“An hour?” Vinyl replied worriedly, shifting on top of Octavia, as to assume a better position. “Tavi, are you sure we’ll make it?” She felt Octavia’s lips pressing against her, the cellist’s delicious teeth chewing a little on her bottom lip.

“Don’t worry, love,” Octavia assured upon breaking the kiss. “Knowing you, we’ll be done in fifteen minutes.” Her hands slipped on Vinyl’s ass and began massaging it, rubbing it in like dough.

“Okay…” Vinyl relaxed into the embrace and closed her eyes. Then, suddenly, they shot wide open. “Wait! What’s that supposed to mean?” She almost got out of the embrace, but Octavia held her close.

“Shh, love.” The cellist laughed and kissed Vinyl’s neck. “It’s just that somebody comes too fast~ Not that I find it bad in any way…” She nuzzled the little spot between Vinyl’s ear and cheek.

“Oh, I’ll show you!” Vinyl felt her body surging with power and pride. “I’ll show you just how long I can last!” She leant in to devour the mouth of the unbeliever.

“Can’t wait, love…” Octavia tickled Vinyl’s side gently. “Can’t wait…”

***

“Madeline, I’m sorry.”

Neon stared ahead of him, his hands locked tight behind his back, his fingers white from the pressure. His heartbeat resonated somewhere in his throat, and he was sweating profusely, keeping in a sudden urge to throw up. “I’m sorry because I left you. I’m sorry because I proposed to you. I was mislead, and…” Neon sighed. “Frankly, I went nuts. I was torn apart because of Vinyl and-”

He groaned and fell onto the bed, hearing it squeak beneath his body. “No, I can’t do this.” He looked around the empty room. “This isn’t something I can rehearse.” The sound of his voice echoed off the walls of the ward. Great. And now I’m talking to myself aloud.

It might have been easier to practise before a mirror, but, for some reason, there were no mirrors in hospital wards. Maybe that was because some patients were afraid to see their face? Or maybe that was the loathing some of them felt when seeing themselves in the mirror? Mirror mirror on the wall, who’s the maddest of them all?

The shrink had made it clear that he needed to talk to her, in order to get healed and, eventually, get out of here. Sure, he could fake it, but, for some reason, he didn’t want to be dishonest with the old black man who smoked and drank brandy like no doctor did. Then, a devious idea crawled into his mind.

He collected the ideas that he’d just expressed, grabbed his phone and began to type furiously. He never specified how I should talk to her. After the text message, he posted the address of the clinic and, with a soaring heart, hit Send.

***

“Hmm. Seventeen minutes.”

Vinyl buried her face in her hands to conceal how flushed her face was. She got up from the bed to walk away, but, with her face still being in her hands, walked straight into the wall. With an ‘ouch’, she revealed her face, pink as a balloon. What a weird simile, Angel Vinyl remarked. Devil Vinyl was still resting in post-coital bliss.

“I mean, that’s a new record for you, love.”

Octavia could barely contain her laughter as she saw the spinner walk into the wall. Her spinner. That’s my spinner! Devil Octavia claimed victoriously. Before Angel Octavia could object, Devil Octavia chanted, I came. I conquered. I… came. And she came too. That’s why she’s my spinner. The little devil on Octavia’s shoulder sent Angel Vinyl a kiss. Devil Vinyl guarded her counterpart… with a stick.

“Tavi, stop making fun of me,” Vinyl demanded quietly, turning her feet in the cellist’s direction. “I only come so fast because you are so… um, skilful.” The DJ flushed crimson, averting her eyes, but Octavia was fast: she leapt off the bed and approached her spinner with unspeakable love in her eyes.

“Vinyl, love, you have nothing to be ashamed of,” Octavia said, guiding Vinyl out of the sleeping nook and towards the kitchen. Good, Devil Octavia nodded primly. A woman’s place is in the kitchen. Angel Octavia stared at her in disbelief: You what, mate? “I mean, why would you be ashamed of how you orgasm? You don’t need to be ‘better’-” Octavia showed the inverted commas as she seated Vinyl on a stool. “-for me. I am perfectly content with our sexy times.” She kissed the spinner on the neck and sat next to her.

“Oh.” Vinyl’s face lit up with a thoughtful smile. “But what if I decide to go sleeping around and the society will condemn me for not being able to hold up for long?” She licked her lips and leant in over Octavia. “And what if we decide to have that threesome you wanted? You’ll need to teach me how to postpone my…” Suddenly, the spinner blushed, reverting to her shy, self-conscious self. “My, um, orgasms,” she almost whispered, sending Octavia into giggles.

“Vinyl, you have at the same time grown confident and still remain a cute, nerdy girl,” Octavia said with extreme approval, getting up to pour them some tea. “Just like Travis from-”

“No,” Vinyl said firmly, still accepting the tea, barely warm, just the way it was meant to be drunk. “Don’t you ever mention that game. Neon has been going crazy about it ever since it was released.” Realising the exact wording of hers, she winced. “I meant, he’s… agitated.”

“I understand, love.” Octavia sat next to her once more, cradling her mug and blowing on the tea out of force of habit. “I won’t. Frederic doesn’t want to hear about it either. Oh!” She brightened up a little, putting her hand on Vinyl’s shoulder. “We should totally meet him for whatever he wants to tell us. Hope it’s something good.”

Vinyl winced and put down her tea. “He looks weird to me. Also, I wonder when he’s gonna give Neon back his label. Our label.”

Octavia sighed. “Ah yes. That. Yes, would be nice. I’m sure he’s inviting us to discuss exactly that.” The cellist smiled widely. “After all, it’s still Freddie, so we’ll come to an agreement, I’m sure of it.”

“Tavi?” Vinyl asked suddenly, very very quietly, inching closer to the cellist, laying her head on Octavia’s breasts.

“Mmm?” Octavia put down her mug, kissing the top of Vinyl’s head. “Yes, love?”

“Did you really consider getting married to me?” Vinyl asked calmly - even though it was evident from the strain in her voice that the question was, by far, one of the hardest she had ever asked.

“I…” For a moment, all ideas left Octavia’s mind, and she struggled just to find the right words. But, surprisingly, when she began to speak, words began pouring out in a thick, flawless river of truth. “Yes, love. Yes I did, I have, and I still am considering it.” She sighed and kissed the top of Vinyl’s head again, feeling the hairs tickle her lips. “I know what I did wrong, and I know you would never say yes, after how I treated your brother… But I like to believe that what I am doing… That everything I do, I do for you.” She smiled and continued with more determination: “Every morning, I wake up to spend the day with you. Every time I cook meals, it is for you to taste them. Every time I put on my make-up, it is so you don’t look bad in public.”

“I don’t care about the public, Tavi,” Vinyl said with sudden forcefulness. “I only care about those close to me. And those close to me are Neon and you. Do you understand why it hurt me so much when you reacted to my brother that way? Because you are both equally important to me, and…” She lifted her head, gazing into the lavender of Octavia’s eyes with her magenta pools. “And, while Neon is my family by birth, I would sure like to have you as my family, thanks to same-sex marriage being legal here and all.” The spinner paused and sighed. “But not now. There’s just so much going on… Neon, the label, our project…” She groaned and put her head back on Octavia’s chest. “Can I just ask you for something?”

“Sure, love.” Octavia began running her fingers through the spinner’s hair, her heart leaping to her throat - and yet the calming motion was having its intended effect. So I can’t propose for a while. But when do I understand that it’s the right time? Damn, it would be better if Vinyl herself could-

“Can we just agree that, when I’m ready… And if you are ready,” Vinyl quickly added, “I’ll be the one proposing to you?” She could feel Octavia’s heartbeat slow down and her muscles relax.

“Of course, love.” Octavia released the breath she’d been holding. That’s pretty much what I wanted to suggest. “Of course. Now,” she shook Vinyl off and got up, “let’s see what Freddie has in store for us?”

***

“And that is essentially what happened.”

Neon finally took a deep breath. Surprisingly, speaking his heart out was not as hard as he had imagined. Once he saw that Madeline was not furious, once he realised she was ready - and needed - to hear him out, once he started speaking, everything became easier.

Madeline just stared at him for a while, silent through the whole monologue. Then, she sighed and looked away from the man. “I see. I mean, it’s hard to believe, and a lot to take in, but… I see.” She rose, heading for the exit.

“Madeline, please…” Neon tried, but then stopped himself. What exactly was he trying to ask of her? To stay with him? It was impossible after all that had happened. To forgive him? Her saddened eyes told him he was forgiven. What else, then, did he aim for, when he extended his hand in a silly motion to stop the woman.

“Neon, it would be a lie to say I don’t love you one bit,” Madeline said very seriously, but all without sitting down. “It would be hypocritical to assume you don’t love me at all. But, after all that’s happened, we can’t be together. It will be a relationship built on pity and mistrust.”

Neon just stared ahead of him and nodded slowly. Yes, of course. Pity and mistrust. Madeline was speaking the right words, but why did they hurt so much? He looked at her. As perfect as the day they met. “Yes,” he said with a sombre finality. “Of course. You are right.”

Madeline’s facial expression softened a little. “Doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. When you feel better,” she said without pointing out the unnecessary madness, “give me a call. You have my number.”

“Of course.” Neon nodded. “Of course."

***

“No way!”

Vinyl slammed her fist against the table, drawing the attention of other patrons in the clean, but still rather dirty-looking establishment. Grabby’s, known for both its delicious food and its ridiculous ad campaign (“Grab a snack at Grabby’s!”), was a perfect location for oiling the gears of business, discussing how to rig the local elections, and, well, meeting potential employers.

“There is no way in hell,” Vinyl said pointedly, glaring daggers at the shock-struck pianist, “that I am going to sign up to the label you stole from my brother!” She almost rose to leave the little metal table in the corner, but Octavia had managed to put her hand on her shoulder in time.

“I…” Frederic worked his jaw for a few seconds. “I didn’t steal it from him! Neon gave the label to me!” he protested, his voice firm with determination. Several patrons looked at the scene, but then returned to their food and drinks.

“He is sick, Frederic!” Vinyl pontificated, her voice on the verge of breaking. Octavia just looked at her girlfriend arguing with her best friend in horror. “He isn’t responsible for what he did!”

“It’s my label now!” Frederic took a protective stance, like a baby devoid of candy. “I am offering you a good deal! You get sixty percent of what you earn, and I give you complete freedom! Didn’t Neon talk to you about how it’s time to let go and stop clinging to-”

“It was Dad’s label!!!”

Vinyl’s yell came out as a deep, primeval roar that immediately attracted the attention of all patrons. The little establishment fell into complete, utter silence. Swiftly, Vinyl rose from her seat and stormed off towards the exit, followed by a very shocked Octavia.

Frederic stared ahead of himself for a moment, then sighed and downed his gin. He looked at his watch, which reminded him that it was half past two, and not quite the time for such a strong drink. He told the watch to go fuck itself. With a stick.

“I guess this is where I come up and congratulate you on blowing it all to pieces?” A dark-haired man came up to Frederic’s table and sat down opposite him, staring at him with wise, thoughtful eyes that were usually sparkling with laughter, but now looked worn-out and sad.

“Harpo, now is not the time.” Frederic sighed and rubbed his eyelids. “What set her off? I mean, Neon himself said that they needed to move on. He himself gave me the label. What was I supposed to do?”

“Oh, I dunno.” Harpo rubbed his chin sarcastically. “Maybe consult with his sister before registering it for yourself? Or, you know, waiting till your best friend has left Crazytown?”

Frederic just glared at the far wall, adorned with pictures of various jazz musicians, none of which had actually performed there - how could they, with no stage to host them? “We were stuck in a shithole,” Frederic said bitterly, “playing for about thirty people twice a month. Now there is a whole label at our disposal. Why don’t we grab this chance?” Frederic hit the table with his fist. “ For that matter, when the hell was the last time we rehearsed as a quartet?”

Harpo fell silent for several moments, then sighed and gave Frederic a sad, little smile. “There is no quartet, Freddie.” He shrugged his shoulders and opened his arms. “Not anymore. Octavia has left us for the project with Vinyl. You haven’t sat at piano for ages, drowned in your managerial work. Bea and I don’t see the point of this whole thing anymore.” He paused and chuckled slightly. “Glad I didn’t bring her today. Would have been scandalous, I’m sure. One way or another.” He laughed and tapped the table - which didn’t have the intended effect, for the table was far from being wooden. “Women, eh?”

“Oh no, you don’t get to play this card.” Frederic shook his finger in the air, taking the conversation too hard. “You’re, like, half-gay.”

“Being bisexual is more than-” Harpo began, but, seeing Frederic’s stern, determined face, just sighed and waved his hand in the air dismissively. “You know what? You know what you did wrong with the label. It can take one little signature to fix it all and make it all better. If you still do care about Neon, you’ll do right by his sister.”

“Don’t you guilt-trip me!” Frederic practically hissed, pointing with his finger at the harpist. “I did this whole thing for the best of the quartet! I did it so we can finally do our thing without worrying about rent or booking new venues!” Frederic leant in, growling, “I did this for the good guys! The good guys won, the label is ours, I can’t see what’s everyone’s problem now!”

“The problem, Freddie,” Harpo said very softly before standing up and heading for the exit, “is that, this time, the good guys actually lost.”

***

Don’t ever let go~

Try to let go~

Don’t ever let go~

Octavia finished the song on a bright, yet lamenting note, a note worthy of Steven Wilson’s song. She sighed and looked at Vinyl with bright eyes, noticing how mesmerised the spinner was. “Did you like the song, love?”

“It’s one of my favourites,” Vinyl said almost breathlessly, sitting up in bed and patting the spot next to her, prompting Octavia to sit down. “Hearing you sing makes me… better. It doesn’t make me forget what that bastard did to the label, but it… it does take my mind off the topic.” As soon as Octavia sat down, she placed her head on the cellist’s shoulder.

“I am not going to defend Frederic,” Octavia said, carefully choosing her wording, treading on this minefield of childhood fears and emotions, “but I can assume, by default, that he did have good intentions. At least, he always has.” She pressed her nose against Vinyl’s head and inhaled the sweet scent of Vinyl, a scent that, to her, was so unique that it didn’t need to amplified by a shampoo or summer sweat, a scent that blocked out all other scents, even with her unique perception. Did Vinyl have a sound of her? Did she lay awake at night, listening to her, Octavia’s, breathing? “I’ll talk to him, and we’ll see what we can do.”

“I don’t want to talk about him right now.” Vinyl listened to Octavia’s heartbeat, knowing her woman by heart. Her perception of sound allowed her to hear every little breath Octavia took, her heartbeat, the sound her teeth made when they rubbed against the tongue in her mouth. “Let’s talk about something else. Your amazing singing, for example.” Vinyl smiled.

“I didn’t choose this song just because,” Octavia said, putting her arm over Vinyl’s shoulder, with Vinyl’s head resting in the cellist’s armpit, and lay down, dragging the spinner with her. “I wanted to tell you…” Careful, Octavia, careful... “I wanted to tell you how important it is to let go.” She sighed, feeling Vinyl tense up on her arm. “Love, you need to forget about the past. It isn’t the matter of Frederic owning the label, it is about you forgetting about what your father did to you.”

For a moment, Octavia expected an angry tirade, or Vinyl breaking into tears, but instead, Vinyl relaxed and spoke very calmly: “It isn’t about forgetting, Tavi. I know what you might think. Yes, I overreacted a little, with it being Dad’s label and all. I understand that Dad is gone and that…” She chuckled an unusual, dark chuckle that didn’t fit her at all. “I get it. It’s not his label anymore. But that just means that it’s more important for Neon and me to run it.”

“How so, love?” Octavia asked cautiously, feeling her arm falling asleep. But this was too important to shrug Vinyl off, or interrupt her enough to move her arm.

“You say ‘try to let go’, I say ‘don’t even let go’. Whereas the truth is more sublime. It’s about assuming control over something you had no control before.” Vinyl turned her head to look at the ceiling. “Neon is assuming control over his mental problems, making them easier. If I assume control over the label, I think, maybe, I’ll deal with issues regarding Dad. I know,” she said pointedly, even though Octavia wasn’t about to argue. “I know I did have control over it - but that was before we talked about our fathers. Which, I suppose, excuses your kidnapping me to Montenegro.” Vinyl chuckled, and Octavia’s heart soared. Suddenly, she was… forgiven?

“I guess you do have a point.” Octavia tried to stay rational, even in the wake of giddiness at Vinyl forgiving her. But then, Vinyl did have a point. “Control makes it… easier to cope, I guess?” She looked at the spinner for confirmation.

“Yes, Tavi.” Vinyl sighed and buried her nose into Octavia’s armpit before emerging and concluding, “And forgetting will sometimes just leave your problems to haunt you at night.” She sighed again, a deep, happy sigh. “But you know why I am not afraid of that?”

“Why, love?” Octavia asked, even though she knew the answer - for her, it had long been the same.

“Because I know you’ll be with me tonight. And every night.” Vinyl smiled. “Can you promise it?”

“Every night,” Octavia promised. “Every single night.”

***

“I just wanted a damn label!”

Frederic slammed his fist against the table, feeling pain enter his hand gradually, as if trying to wake him up from his rage. Surprisingly, it worked, and his next remark, he said in a calmer tone:

“Why can’t I just have this one thing?”

Because you didn’t earn it.

“Shut up!” Frederic addressed himself, sitting at the desk in the dimly-lit room. “For once in my life, I don’t have to worry about the landlord and the rent!”

You weren’t born poor, and you aren’t exactly poor now.

“But the label will bring me profit!” Frederic argued. “It will enable me to- to-”

To give money to all your friends?

“Yes.” Frederic got up and headed for the kitchen. The kettle waited for him on the cupboard. He took it up, pouring the tea into the mug, just a little. It was deep night, after all. “Harpo and Bea could buy a new flat. Vinyl and Octavia could… I dunno.”

They don’t need your money, Frederic. They need a friend.

“I am a friend.” Frederic opened the fridge. Upon seeing the stale cheese and the lonely six-pack of beer, he informed his stomach that late-night snack was out of the question. His stomach informed him that it didn’t need refilling anyway. “I am their friend. I am doing friendly things. As a friend. I’ve helped them all!”

Yes, and they all still need your help.

“Well, I am trying to help!” The pianist took the tea and moved back into the room, sitting down at the desk. A bed, a wardrobe, a bookcase, and a desk. All he had. But with the label, he could be so much more. He could live in a penthouse suite of the greatest hotel. He just needed to explain to Vinyl and Octavia and Harpo and Bea how great it would be if they just signed up at his label. Yes, and-

Frederic, you know what exactly you need to do to really help.

“I can’t!” Frederic almost cried. He took a sip of the tea and placed the mug back with trembling fingers. “The label can give me so much. It can give them-”

Frederic, you are the only one here who profits from this. You’ll have the label, but you’ll have no quartet. And no friends.

Frederic wanted to smash that voice in his head, smother it with a pillow, but what could he do if this voice was right? He hadn’t earned this label. It just fell in his hands. And he just caught it. But now that he had caught it, his friends were turning away from him. What was he to do?

Do what you must. Then rebuild the quartet. And hope that Vinyl and Octavia join you.

“And if they don’t?” Frederic took a piece of paper, determination leaving him as he took up the pen. “Yeah, yeah. That’s their choice. Well, that’s what I get for helping others. No label, and no…” He sighed and began writing.

This was probably the right thing to do. Sure, he was sure he was entitled to this, but… This wasn’t how things worked. He was sure that, had he bought the label or inherited it, things would have been different. But his ownership of the label was… fake. It was unfair to Vinyl, and, by extension, to her girlfriend, and his friend, Octavia. It was unfair to them because he was ripping them off the chance to have a say in all of this, in the very least. It was unfair to Harpo and Bea, if only because he would never be able to be part of the quartet, what with all the paperwork. He needed to restore the quartet. He knew Octavia would agree, but only if Vinyl could become his friend too. Collecting friendships. What a hobby.

And yet, somehow, with those thoughts, the pen slid across the paper more easily, and the heavy burden inside his heart was vanishing. He skimmed through the paper.

....resign due to reasons that… pass the ownership of the label to Vincenza Staccato… with power to rename, restructure or re-register the label in any way or manner…

With a deep, final sigh, he sighed the paper and stamped it. “You happy now?” he asked aloud. He was definitely happy. It was weird happiness, but it was the kind of happiness that told him that things could be the way they were. With the quartet. With Octavia. And maybe things could be good with Vinyl too. “You happy?”

But the voice was gone.

Next Chapter: 8. Looking up Estimated time remaining: 51 Minutes