I had plans for the ritual. Offerings of lavender incense and bergamot tea. A copy of my birth chart, a matrix of relevant tarot cards. I would write an invocation. I would do the thing properly.

First, though, I brought up a battered black box from the basement. Inside, on top, my university degree, and below that, report cards. Kindergarten through high school.

My mother – incidentally, a Gemini Sun – was the box’s original curator. She kept the childhood report cards; she was proud. I put my degree over top like a seal. The last word, the last laugh, the heroic conclusion. Imposed, by my white-knuckled will, on a story with a messy and painful beginning.

I’m presenting at a conference in the fall. I’ve signed up to talk about the painful beginning to a room full of educators and child care providers. I am, by turns, excited and horrified that I’m doing this.

Suddenly, from nowhere, a voice in my ear.

“I was retrograde, you know. You forget that bit on purpose.”

---

There is a court of ten little girls. They look five or six years old. They sound older. They sit at a heavy stone table, child-sized but oddly formal.

They are scared, and they’re arguing. I make out bits and pieces.

“I said I can’t do it! I can’t!“

“It’s your job!”

“Who says?”

“Everybody says! You’re supposed to be good at it!”

“If you can’t do it, we’re all going to die.”

“Shut up, Luna, you’re not helping her!”

Saturn launches herself across the table at Luna. Shouts of panic and protest erupt. Mars sobs harder than ever.

“Bit of a mess, yeah. They’ll be fine, though. I’m going to take care of them.”

On my right, Mercury. Tiny, smiling gently, in a yellow floral dress that my grandmother made.

She’s carrying a sword. I find the sight a little troubling.

---

There was a thunderstorm warning. It’s been very hot for May. A wind was picking up outside, and something sunk into place.

Mercury wasn’t quite as little when I looked at her again, and the stone table was gone. It took me a moment to adjust to the void that took its place.

“You know what the soundtrack for this is.”

I felt a jolt. This was a face I hadn’t expected her to claim; a face I have learned in recent years to remember kindly, but again, polished. Perfected by time.

She was thirteen, and smirking, and holding out headphones. Sky blue with cat ears and candy-coloured rhinestones.

“Surprised? You still think Neptune brought all this in here, don’t you? All those synths, and a whole language you learned so you could understand the lyrics? Think about that for one second.”

Somewhere, else, the emerald pendant hung on my altar candle flickers. What else did you get for your birthday that year?

And I remember the thirteen year old girl, on a level I’d forgotten. Handmade cat ears, made by my mother, sky blue. Forums and fansubs, cons and comic book shops.

The smile on her face is hard enough to cut like diamonds, but I know what it would have meant to her to hand her playlist over to someone twenty-odd years older. To me, in particular. I know the question buried in the gesture.

“You still love the things I love, right? I’m still valid, even though you know more?”

I realize I answered that some time ago. Her sharpness is for show.

“Your versions, or the new ones?”

“New ones.” She grins, a little manically, dropping the pretence. “I’m glad there are new ones. I like to compare.”

---

When the music starts, the void we were floating in sparks to life. I stand at the open garden door, breathing in the storm as it finally arrives, and get my first real look at Mercury’s realm.

I can see with sudden clarity that she is the one steering this ship. This is the CPU – Central Control. Reams of data – from within and without, from above and below – scroll on an endless array of LED screens. Beyond the screens is the whole cosmos.

Sol might well be the captain, but Mercury is driving. Teenage Mercury, sitting in the centre of a ring of diamond keyboards, typing commands that light up chords of neon in the sky. Hazards illuminated, parried with lightning-fire keystrokes. Points collected.

“See? I meant it. We’re good, you and I.”

Another voice in my ear. Another Mercury – the corporate one. Smirking, waving a hand to the catgirl.

Gemini, I realize suddenly. Two of them. Twins.

“That is me, too. And see? She knows you love her.”

“So… that’s the answer. That’s who you are, outside work?”

“Yes,” she said.

“And no.”

A third voice. Very small. Almost inaudible.

---

A little girl sits in the vice principal’s office. This was a test, but the assessor isn’t there now; in her place, it’s me, hurtled back in time. The child doesn’t seem to notice the difference.

I look down at her. Ruffled dress in green and yellow, purple marker smudged across her nose. Grape-scented. I remember.

People are talking in the next room, and I know what day this was. I know the gist of what they’re saying. The little girl frowns up at me, anxious and battle-worn. She speaks sharply, eager for answers.

“Why was there a test? How did I do?”

I realize that I don’t remember how they explained this to me at the time. This room, this chair, a vague odor of pencil shavings, and that smear of purple marker are the only scraps of memory I have; all the details I know, I learned later.

I hesitate a moment. What is safe to tell a kid that age?

“You did great. They’re telling your mum and dad now.”

“Oh!”

And I see it – how quickly the fear melts away with a hit of external, academic validation. And I think, that’s going to get you into trouble, because it did.

But little me is smiling now, as Mercury shines through her, and I feel the buzz of joyful possibility she’s feeling. Somewhere, on another screen, Saturn agrees to stop throttling Luna. What Mercury is doing, for the moment… it will work well enough.

---

Outside, lightning flashes, and I see the Page of Swords. I am here, in my temple, looking up at the storm; I got around to lighting the incense, nothing more, but it would seem that was enough.

With every flash and roar of the sky, I see Mercury in Gemini, and I am 36 and 13 and 6 years old at once.

“I put a sword in your hand very early,” I murmur to the thunder.

“Might have been the other way around, don’t you think?”

For the first time, Mercury’s voice is not mine, and it doesn’t wear my face. Not for a moment; for a moment, it is more than my Mercury. Then, from behind, a gentle tap on my shoulder.

This one isn’t me either; it is me, but it isn’t. She is something in between me and the sky, something bridging the distance. She is willowy, tall, peacock feather quill in hand. Ponytail, angel wings, filigree armour.

I remember something I read about the first decan of Gemini. A holy crusader’s decan. Influence from Jupiter. Paladin with a pen, I’d thought.

“I told you I’d take care of them.”

Somewhere behind her, less defined, I see the glow of other fragments, other tethers, other spirits. Sol and Venus, freshly charged. Saturn frowning at her desk down in Capricorn.

Surely that’s a problem for January.

Finally, I sense there is no double entendre from Mercury. No twist, no shapeshift incoming. She shrugs.

“It wasn’t perfect, I know that- “

“No. Lots of near misses, but-“

“Here we are.”

“We didn’t all die in grade one.”

Mercury laughs, and puts a hand on my shoulder.

“Seriously, though… about Luna, Mars, even Saturn… be kind to them, won’t you? They do help. They matter.”

The clouds glow with the sun, with the lightning, with Mercury’s brilliance. I can sense that this vision, today’s lesson, is ending; she is called back to the ether, and the roar of the open sky.

I take one last look at Mercury. The sideways smirk she wears as she prepares for takeoff is mine, and her feather quill becomes a gleaming rapier.

“Paladin, huh? I like it. Play La Soldier for me again. That’s the one.”

As she takes her running start and launches into the sky, I know her better.

She surprised me, after all these years, and I love her.

*La Soldier lyrics, translated

|::~*~::|

CARDS FOR WEEK 10 (May 26- June 1):

Oracle: The Duck and Chrysanthemum (luck)

Shadow Card: Page of Wands

|::~*~::|

THEME: 2 OF SWORDS

Hard decisions. Stalemate. No perfect choice.

CHALLENGE: 5 OF PENTACLES

Lack. Hardship. Need.

BLESSINGS: 8 OF WANDS

Rapid action. Movement. Momentum.

TEND: THE CHARIOT

Direction. Control. Willpower.

RELEASE: QUEEN OF PENTACLES

Practicality. Creature comforts. Security.

FOCUS: 3 OF PENTACLES

Teamwork. Collaboration. Growth.

|::*::| |::*::| |::*::|

If you read this far… thank you! It’s a lot, but I had a lot of fun writing this one.

Jupiter is up next in my zodiac journey. For now, I’ve got a new stack of books to read:

• Practical Astrology for Witches and Pagans (Ivo Dominguez Jr.)
• Tarot (Tina Gong, whose Labyrinthos app I love dearly)
• The Triumph of the Moon (Ronald Hutton)
• The Odyssey (Homer, translated by Emily Wilson)
• Jung’s Map of the Soul: An Introduction (Murray Stein)

I didn’t plan for all my library holds to come in at once, but they did. So now I’ve got my work cut out for me.

Let’s go, Gemini Mercury.