The retreat was called Rooted Together: A Ten-Day Journey into Conscious Queer Connection.
It was held at an eco-conscious wellness center outside Guerneville, nestled among the redwoods, where the air was clean, the surroundings were tranquil, and the organizers had made the catastrophic error of allowing Gaius to review their registration process.
The brochure promised a transformative experience.
Participants would explore relational authenticity, practice radical vulnerability, engage in guided forest bathing, and share emotionally nourishing stories around a campfire while enjoying sustainably sourced s'mores.
There would be no judgment.
There would be no hierarchy.
There would be no shame.
There would, according to the original schedule, be twelve participating throuples.
There would, in reality, be one.
The three men from Twin Peaks.
They arrived on Monday afternoon in a vehicle carrying three overnight bags, fourteen skincare products, a portable water filter, a box of vegan protein bars, and a printed copy of Gaius's proposed Framework for Ethical Relational Engagement.
Ruslan had asked him to leave the framework at home.
Gaius had responded that suppressing a document was not the same thing as resolving the issues it addressed.
Auberge had brought his facial moisturizer, his sunglasses, and a small framed photograph of himself at twenty-five.
He claimed the photograph was for personal reflection.
Ruslan suspected otherwise.
The registration desk was staffed by a cheerful woman named Melissa.
“Welcome to Rooted Together! We're so glad you're here.”
Gaius smiled.
“Thank you. Before we begin, I'd like to ask about your invitation process.”
Melissa blinked.
“Our what?”
“Your invitation process. How did you identify prospective participants?”
“We advertised through our mailing list, social media, and a few community organizations.”
“And did you use artificial intelligence to generate personalized invitations?”
Melissa hesitated.
“We used a writing assistant to help draft some of the emails.”
Gaius's smile disappeared.
Auberge took off his sunglasses.
Ruslan quietly picked up his overnight bag.
“I see,” Gaius said.
Melissa looked nervous.
“Is there a problem?”
“I have serious concerns about the algorithmic mediation of intimate human relationships.”
Melissa glanced at the registration sheet.
“Would you like a name tag?”
“I would like to understand whether any of your prospective participants were contacted by an automated system without meaningful human oversight.”
“I'm not sure.”
“Then we have a problem.”
Ruslan leaned toward Melissa.
“Please just give us the room key.”
She handed it over.
Gaius accepted it with the expression of a man who had just been informed that the retreat center was powered by fossil fuels and operated by a board of directors.
Their cabin was called The Cedar Heart.
It contained three beds, a small bathroom, a kitchenette, and a laminated card explaining the center's sustainability practices.
Gaius read the card.
Then he read it again.
“Ruslan.”
Ruslan was unpacking.
“What?”
“They use conventional cleaning products.”
“Do they?”
“The card says they prioritize environmentally responsible products where available.”
“That's nice.”
“Where available is not the same as exclusively.”
Auberge sat on his bed and examined the wooden ceiling.
“Do you think the timber is certified?”
Gaius turned slowly toward him.
“I hadn't considered that.”
Ruslan closed his eyes.
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?” Auberge asked.
“No, we're not going to investigate the forestry certifications of our cabin.”
“But—”
“No.”
Gaius took out his notebook.
“I think we should establish a list of questions for management.”
Ruslan pointed toward the door.
“If either of you creates a list, I will go home.”
Gaius considered this.
He put the notebook away.
For approximately six minutes, the cabin was peaceful.
Then Auberge discovered that the bathroom mirror had unflattering lighting.
He requested a resolution circle.
Ruslan began unpacking the car again.
At 6:00 p.m., the participants were invited to gather in the communal hall for an opening ceremony.
Melissa stood before a circle of empty chairs.
“Welcome, everyone. Let's begin by introducing ourselves and sharing what brought us here.”
Gaius raised his hand.
“I'm Gaius. My partners are Auberge and Ruslan. We came to deepen our connection, explore conscious communication, and examine the ethical dimensions of our shared lifestyle.”
Melissa smiled.
“Wonderful.”
“We're vegan.”
“Great.”
“We follow a holistic wellness philosophy.”
“Lovely.”
“And we have serious concerns about the use of artificial intelligence in participant recruitment.”
Melissa's smile faltered.
Ruslan stared at the floor.
Auberge raised his hand.
“I would also like to disclose that I am navigating a significant personal transition involving Stage Four Crow's Feet.”
Melissa looked at him.
“I'm sorry?”
“It's a self-defined staging system,” Gaius explained helpfully.
“It's not a medical diagnosis,” Ruslan added.
Auberge glared at him.
“I would appreciate it if we could respect my journey.”
“Of course,” Melissa said cautiously.
She looked at the empty chairs.
“Would anyone else like to share?”
Silence.
A bird called from the trees outside.
Melissa glanced at her clipboard.
“Well. It looks like we may have a smaller group than anticipated.”
Gaius folded his arms.
“Perhaps your invitation strategy was insufficiently human.”
Ruslan stood.
“I would like to propose that we don't say anything else.”
For once, everyone agreed.
The first evening's activity was called Vulnerability by Firelight.
The participants would share meaningful personal experiences while roasting vegan marshmallows over a campfire.
The retreat center had purchased fair-trade chocolate and graham crackers from a supplier that used recycled packaging. The marshmallows were certified vegan.
Gaius inspected all three packages.
Melissa approached him.
“Everything all right?”
“I'm reviewing the sourcing information.”
“It's just a snack.”
Gaius looked at her with profound disappointment.
“Is it?”
Melissa decided to check on the fire.
Auberge sat beside Ruslan, wrapped in a sustainably sourced wool-free blanket.
“I'm feeling emotionally exposed,” he whispered.
“Because of the retreat?”
“Because of the lighting.”
“It is a campfire.”
“The shadows are emphasizing my crow's feet.”
Ruslan stared into the flames.
“Would you like my sunglasses?”
“It's dark.”
“I know.”
Auberge began to cry.
Gaius returned carrying three marshmallows on reusable skewers.
“I have an announcement.”
Ruslan looked at the sky.
“Please don't.”
“I have concerns about the carbon footprint of the chocolate.”
Auberge sniffled.
“Is it fair trade?”
“Yes.”
“But is it sustainably transported?”
Gaius paused.
“That's what I'm trying to establish.”
Ruslan slowly lowered his marshmallow.
“Can we have one evening where we don't investigate the supply chain of a dessert?”
Gaius looked genuinely puzzled.
“Why would we want that?”
The fire crackled.
Auberge whispered, “I miss being twenty-five.”
Melissa went inside.
By Day Three, the retreat center had developed a new policy.
Participants were requested not to convene unscheduled resolution circles in communal areas.
The policy had been introduced after Gaius organized a ninety-minute discussion about whether the term forest bathingimplied an exploitative relationship with trees.
The discussion had attracted a volunteer, who had subsequently withdrawn after being asked to define the ethical parameters of hugging a redwood.
Gaius considered the policy an infringement on spontaneous relational development.
Ruslan considered it the only reason they had not been evicted.
Auberge was preoccupied with a different concern.
He had discovered that the retreat's morning schedule included a session called Aging with Grace.
He regarded the title as provocative.
“Why is aging being presented as something we must do gracefully?” he demanded over breakfast. “Why can't we age angrily?”
Gaius nodded.
“That's an excellent question.”
Ruslan put down his fork.
“No.”
Auberge continued.
“Why must we accept every consequence of time without exploring available interventions?”
“No.”
“Why is there no session on ethical facial preservation?”
Gaius was already reaching for his notebook.
Ruslan stood.
“I am going to the river.”
“Which river?” Gaius asked.
“The one without a committee.”
On Day Five, Melissa announced that the retreat's original schedule would be revised.
The center had intended to host a guided discussion on communication, a group forest walk, and a closing ceremony.
Instead, it would offer the three remaining participants a private consultation with the facilitator.
Gaius asked whether the consultation would be recorded.
“No.”
“Transcribed?”
“No.”
“Summarized by an AI tool?”
Melissa looked at him.
“No.”
“Good.”
Auberge leaned forward.
“Could we use the session to discuss the emotional implications of my facial aging?”
Melissa took a long breath.
“We can discuss whatever feels meaningful to you.”
Auberge began to cry.
Gaius reached for a tissue.
Ruslan quietly walked outside.
He found a bench overlooking the redwoods and sat down.
For the first time in five days, he could hear nothing but the wind moving through the trees.
It was wonderful.
Then Gaius emerged from the cabin.
“Ruslan, we've been discussing the possibility of developing our own retreat.”
Ruslan closed his eyes.
“Of course you have.”
“We could create an entirely human-centered registration process.”
“No.”
“An ethical sourcing policy.”
“No.”
“A facial autonomy workshop.”
“Gaius.”
“And a dedicated session on the environmental implications of intimate wellness products.”
Ruslan stood up.
“I'm going to swim in the river.”
“You can't swim in the river without checking the water quality.”
Ruslan walked toward the water.
“I'M WILLING TO TAKE MY CHANCES.”
On Day Ten, the closing ceremony took place beside the campfire.
Melissa had prepared a short reflection on the retreat's original intentions.
She spoke about connection, vulnerability, and the importance of allowing relationships to develop without excessive expectations.
Gaius listened thoughtfully.
Auberge held his framed photograph.
Ruslan had already packed the car.
“Although our group was smaller than anticipated,” Melissa concluded, “I hope you've found something valuable in the experience.”
Gaius stood.
“We have.”
Melissa smiled.
“We've learned that ethical communication requires genuine human engagement,” Gaius continued. “We've learned that sustainability must be more than a marketing term. And we've learned that organizations should be transparent about the tools they use to contact prospective participants.”
Melissa nodded slowly.
Auberge stood.
“I've learned that my journey through facial aging deserves compassion.”
Ruslan opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
“And I've learned,” Auberge continued, “that a person's relationship with their own appearance can be profoundly affected by the emotional environment in which they are held.”
“Thank you,” Melissa said.
Ruslan stood beside them.
“I've learned that ten days is a very long time.”
The three men returned to the car.
As they drove back toward San Francisco, Auberge gazed at the redwoods.
“I think the retreat was transformative.”
Gaius nodded.
“We should write a review.”
Ruslan stared straight ahead.
“No.”
“A thoughtful review,” Gaius clarified.
“No.”
“Perhaps a detailed review with recommendations.”
“Absolutely not.”
Auberge turned around in his seat.
“We could organize our own retreat.”
Gaius's eyes lit up.
“An entirely human-centered retreat.”
“With sustainable s'mores,” Auberge added.
“And a facial autonomy workshop,” Gaius said.
Ruslan pulled the car onto the shoulder.
He turned off the engine.
He looked at both of them.
“If either of you says the words ‘resolution circle’ for the next thirty days, I will leave this relationship.”
Auberge gasped.
Gaius looked genuinely hurt.
Ruslan restarted the engine.
For eleven miles, nobody spoke.
Then Gaius quietly opened his notes app.
He typed:
Potential name: Rooted Together 2.0.
Ruslan saw the screen.
He screamed.
And somewhere in Guerneville, Melissa updated the retreat's brochure.
The next session would have a strict limit of six participants, require a refundable deposit, and prohibit Gaius from registering.