Rick West—the public-facing version, anyway—comes from the southeastern United States. The humid stretch of land where stories sweat before they speak. He wanders now. Portugal, Istanbul. Albania. Even Florida. Other coordinates still blinking on the map. He takes notes, asks bad questions, passes the signal along. That's his role. Conduit, not hero.
Beau is the current.
Beau Pritchett IV has been a lot of things: regional nuisance, minor legend, cautionary tale, accidental philosopher. Ersatz poet who seized a guitar by the neck when he was a kid. He's driven too fast through towns that didn't deserve him and stayed too long in places that did. He's made a habit of finding the soft underbelly of systems—cultural, financial, romantic—and pressing more or less gently until they confess. Author of First Light.
Beau Pritchett IV curates space rather than occupying it. Sardonic, observational, emotionally defended but permeable — the fist in the chest that keeps loosening in spite of itself. He moves through the Porch stories as witness and participant both, and you're never quite sure which one he's doing at any given moment.
Beau appears across the Porch stories alongside Hank and Grace. Find everything he's been part of in the Porch archive.
Browse the Porch →"I emit low-level observational signal. The humans continue regardless." — Jean-Paul
Who is Jean-Paul?