daydreamer

“Have you ever seen the rain?”

Genesis turned back towards me, hopeful smile on her face. I was compelled to say yes (to go along with her mood), but with the purple ferns below our feet reflecting patient light into her face and her insanity increasing if I responded, I didn’t say anything at all. She continued speaking.

“It’s one of my favorite things to do. The rain carries small pollen from here to there, and if you arrive at the right moment…” Genesis stops walking and scoops up a handful of dirt, then she ushers me to stand next to her. From the dirt, a plant grew and bloomed into a lotus so suddenly, it took me a second to notice the details on the petals. The plants speak for her.

I leaned in to touch it, but she giggled and pushed me away, turning her head slightly to the side, lotus in her hang glowing pink with some embarrassment.

“Not in front of the children, Lenore,” she admonished me gently. I had no idea what that even meant, but what did that matter? She seemed happy.

We stood side by side for a moment, and I held my breath while Genesis took out a compass from her side purse. She placed it down on the ground, and its roots began to grow out into the dirt with her gentle coaxing. 

I knew the plant well. She had seven or so of them in her bag, though she would not tell me why she wanted to plant them. Every time before this had been unsuccessful. We tried to culture 5 of them already, but Genesis was not happy with any of them. She even swore one time, kicking the dirt next to one of the leaves. I personally think all of the plants sprouted correctly, but what did I know? She’s the life bringer, not me.

Genesis kneeled on the ground for what could have been ages, contemplating the way those leaves slowly took form. I just wanted her to be done with the whole business. She was done then soon enough, and she declared the plant fit for farming, so I teleported us off that mountain.

Later on, the plant would grow a key & my second grandchild (gender pending™) would go back to build the gate. Someone would come by and try to crack the key, but all they would do is corrupt the gate.

Space Ship

“Hello, all. I am your host, K Scott Francis, here to welcome you to the Parthenon. We have a lovely fortnight ahead of us, but before we discuss festivities, there is something important to address. Something for you all to think about.”

K Scott looks out at his congregation with love and admiration. He turns his eyes to space, and the vacationer’s gaze follows him.

“What we have is beautiful. It is, without a doubt, one of the most stunning things I’ve ever seen. A real black hole. No other spaceship could withstand the gravity of our final celestial body. But here we are- admiring it, with our own two eyes. 

K Scott starts to monologue.

“Us humans always wanted more. We started off on a plain Earth, our very own Terra Firma. It was our livelihood, yes, but we were also generations of brilliant people trapped by a planet unequipped to hold our genius. It was a struggle to find space for all of us. We turned outwards, and we made it. You have seen what our Milky Way has to offer. The Crab Nebula is only a few days away. The Cat Eye Nebula is the jewel of our cosmos, free for any to see. Speaking of the Cat Eye— I believe Yolanda is with us? She is a lovely patron and philanthropist, keeping galactic roadways safe for all of us ship dwelling individuals. Raise a glass for Yolanda, for she provided us our lovely crew.”

A cheer bubbles up.

“But as I was saying…”

If these aliens could take their attention off him, they would— but alas, it seems like their strange biology prevents them from unfocusing and going out into a daydream. You, on the other hand, get to skip past all of this boring dialogue. Sucks to be them. Hehe. Schadenfreude. 

“Us humans always strived for greater heights, outwards and inwards. We changed ourselves like the galaxy around us. We’re taller, healthier, stronger, some of us even gorgeous. 

“And now, you’ve here. You may be wondering- what do I have to offer? Why did I invite you all here? Well, let me ask you instead- what do you have to lose? Your wealth? Your family? Your robot servants?”

Laughter rises.

“No, it is something more fundamental. Look inside yourself. Ask yourself: do you care about your life the way it is? Do you want to be permanent, to shape the future of our collective galaxy? How about becoming more than you could ever imagine? The opportunity to be young and beautiful is upon you. You will never suffer from old age; you will be like a photograph. You can be the best you.

“All those things you were never sure about doing can be yours. You can meet your great great grandchildren. You can eat at your favorite restaurant until it closes. You can do- whatever you want. 

“Nothing lasts forever. Our planet exploded; we had to become nomads, ever expanding, always evolving. Humans continue. We persevere. But now, we can be more than human. We can become golden, together. Please, enjoy your stay on the Parthenon- but remember that we are all on a timer. Our lives may be long, but everything you have can be so much more. You have so much more- you have the chance to be immortal.

“Of course, that’s the downer. Our ship has more in it than you could ever dream of. 

The speaker leaves the stage and sounds of delight echo through the ship as they circle the Black Hole inside our galaxy. 

Did you ever pretend to fight a big monster when you were young? Some sort of creature that could be destroyed with a sword? Mine was a blob monster with no bones. It was always black, but maybe the lighting inside my blanket was bad. I used to attack it with these sort of snake like attacks, in hopes of getting it to go away… But it turns out you can’t always attack some demons. It would be nice to tell Yolanda that, but then I would just ruin everything.

Lmao this place is really nice and pleasant. He is pretty normal, but he is very creative & knows how to design a planet well. High praise comes from all sides, very nicely done planet, 10/10

Hell desert with magic. Lamek is an actual sadist. He believes in trial by fire. Very likable.

Daisy’s home with superpowers. Cierci belongs on Arachnid-B. 

“What kind of gods are we?”

Ming stands running water under a warm stream of water, eyes wide open, oblivion of sleep far away from her. The water smacks into her eyes, but she pays no heed, thin double eyelid membranes folding down to shield her pupils.

“Are we decent ones?”

Ming Zhou closes her eyes. How could she know? The most lauded lifeforms are taken as vassals for the Eon Court. They are beautiful, perfectly capturing the worlds they come from, like flowers preserved from a pesticide covered field of empty grass.

Are these human’s nature worth promoting? Oh, how I long to know what compels these humans to act without shame or anger or fear. How I long to know how they love life without guidance.

Aye, there is the rub. In our shallow life & eventual hollow death, we create technology without understanding, pursue life without plot, bold without reason, living a shallow life. And their hollow death? When they are dressed in dirt below flat rocks, their family’s history dying with them, that is hollow death.

And as their creator and master I am so compelled to require more of them, to crave more of them. More baseline humans, the creatures behind the template used to create me.

§ If it is not obvious, I am not human. I eat food as they do & feel pain like one, but my heart beats slower, my skill is less susceptible to chemical and heat burns. My feet are asian, and my body has fewer deficiencies with age. (My mind stays similar to my physical body, and my body has been made flawless. So with this I hold my planet with a loving and fair hand, full intention on saving these humans from themselves. 

How do I do it? Well, it is easy to copy the body of their planet’s leader, then to edit him to be more kind to the environment, for instance. I make the same adjustment to all other ??? And people close to sentience on their planet, Arachnid-C. It is harder than managing Arachnid-A and Arachnid-B, but it must be done.

Do I feel horror at these humans? Do they fill me with some shame or horror? It is unlikely I will ever feel those emotions like a human. Desires such as creation and creativity are the only ones known to me. It is easy for me not to even feel anything close to what the humans feel. It has been taken out of my brain, right from birth.

Yolanda never says it out loud, but I know that my destiny has been limited from birth. I could feel it within my neural circuits, with the things I was allowed to see and hear. How could it not be obvious? I never met anyone who I didn’t know how to speak to, and it felt like the fire within my soul was so unfueled. Like anything I really wanted to be was… limited.

And others may look at me and laugh. It would really be unsurprising. They would tell me that I can chose whatever to be, but I think their eyes are not on the horizon. When they say, “anything you mean,” they mean that I can be anything that is similar to the people they expect me to interact with, such as Ejssu and Lamek. 

They are a worthwhile distraction for sure, but as god, they are not the people I want to be next to. They cannot make the right sort of planet and so I must cast this one aside. I must ignore any sort of template they give me, if I am ever to promote a sort of solider to Yolanda which has real versatility. Yolanda thinks that she knows about the future of anything, but she is clueless to the whole world. She is clueless to the whole world. 

It is my duty to show her the truth. If it comes to something so embarrassing and crass as this, then it will be done. The message is the same no matter the format or the messenger. 

Yolanda, you must know, you have to encourage versatility. You must let things exist that are not tampered with. You cannot control everything, and you cannot poison every well you are scared of. You may think it is your duty and right, but Arachnid-C cannot exist without that sort of freedom. It is more than a dream, it is just. 

Have you ever seen the result of hope? It is beautiful and full of knowledge. Your predecessors, Yolanda, took the chance to move beyond fear… The result was glorious. People build solar houses and waste no money. People do work surveying and controlling their land for themselves. People mostly pay their own taxes and negotiate the world to a better place.

Someday you too will finally be satisfied with the job you’ve done, let me continue mine without corruption in your heart. 

Thank you. I wish you to learn the lessons I know by reading my book. You are strong. <3

Most of the time, things make sense to me. This, though? This doesn’t mean anything. 

I kiss Petunia’s hand and leave the room. Petunia’s eyes are lasers on me, but I have to be the tin man right now. She will forgive me, I’m sure. I told her- I told her- she knows the truth. She screams, one more time, still going through contractions, but I have to pull away anyway.

I go deeper into the hospital, fifteen flights of stairs below the surface. Most of the rooms are just- empty, full of nobodies who needed to rent space and didn’t mind the stench of dead bodies. Where I’m going is somewhere more… Dangerous.

The checks go smoothly, and I enter the underground. I pick up the vial, the needle, and make my way upstairs. 

I kiss my wife on her head, and pick up my daughter by her armpits. She is beautiful. I prick her with the needle when I kiss her on the head. She starts crying, and I hand her to her loving mother for comfort. My work is done. I can enjoy the day with my darling girl and her new mama, now. 

The song plays a joyful melody that makes me feel like dancing, and so I kiss my wife’s forehead, as she nurses our baby, and then the coda begins.

There is nothing wrong with what I did. Daisy will only be stronger because of what I did. She will be strong, and she will help carry them to victory. I’ve done my part.

It is time to focus on my wife and child. I will do that.

The last note is long an held out and… 

And…

I drop the needle into the biohazardous waste bin before scooping my little girl back up into my arms one last time, before I hand her over to the nurses. I kiss my wife on her gorgeous forehead, and the next chapter of my life starts perfectly. Daisy is in my arms, and she will be an Esper. I’ve done everything I can to prep her for the next few decades of secret, intergalactic war we will go through. 

“It’s a girl.” Yes, she is. My wife is nearly out of her mind, but she holds her darling in her arms- I get to lean over her and see her beautiful child. Our child. Her eyes are wide, wide open, and I just-

I want to pick them both up and swing them around. They are my two darlings. 

Anyone that would ever harm my little girl- I don’t know what I would do to them.

“Petunia, she’s gorgeous.”

“Mhmm.” My wife kisses our baby girl on the forehead.

I’m a little overwhelmed. 

The nurse leaves us be, and I hug my wife and child. She is our sweet, sweet Daisy.

Arachid-c doesn’t know what’s coming. Daisy will learn to protect herself from anything that will happen to her. 

—

I hug her close to me. She’s a little bundle of beauty and grace, and even when the nurse takes her and measures her, it is… wonderful. 

It was almost not worth working after I changed the Esper egg record check. The whole island nearly castigated me. Still, when Daisy came, I knew I did well. I will never forget how my mother whispered the limerick of flowers to me before I slept. 

Genesis was fair

Red, curly, kinky hair

Traveling was her beck and call

As was horticulture, plants grew quickly & with aplomb

There are 12 of them starting with Genesis. Her mother held one of the keys to becoming an Esper, which granted her great fame.

I have many cousins who all contribute to Genesis’s epic. When one dies, her poem is exposed to the world, by her daughter, during her wake. A niece or younger sister will do too. Husbands, sons, and siblings may do the address as well, but it is not common practice.

This is how the bed of flowers continues to flourish every spring. Genesis was an Esper of growth and life. The flower bed is her most precious remain. (Some more bs)

Daisy is likewise wonderful— even more precious than some flowerbed. I would suffer 1,000 deaths before I let her Esper status take her down a road of false civility and servitude. She will be free. The government sees my daughter like a battery, but she is not one. Her life is worthy to be discovered & shaped on her own. 

Daisy says: Sometimes I don’t understand my mother’s metaphors.

I did what I had to do. Daisy is not registered to any Esper group, nor will she be tested. The gift runs within my line, but it is not with every woman. Our gifts are also subtle, and Daisy’s should be too. I have all the baby books and formula needed for an Esper child. 

Many parents agree to their child being used as a battery because it saves the general welfare, but the strain is particularly rough on my line. This is because our magic is ideally suited for running society. Many of my aunts & grandmothers were conscripted into one local government and were persuaded into staying. Many people would consider being wanted by society as a boon, but tides are changing. Losar and Signa are going to be changing positions soon, and I know the strain of acclimating to a new sun shift will be extremely rough on my daughter.

I will love her no matter what she chooses to do, but the chose is hers and hers alone, as was my life and carrier for myself. 

-This guy makes things better, despite gross incompetence.

Reginald has to clean shop. The lab itself is far over budget. 

“Growing pains,” George called it. “New initiatives,” he said. 

A whole level of bureaucracy, in my opinion. 

Daisy doesn’t see him at first. She’s distracted by the lights and the beautiful building around her, open skies and clear windows- it’s a new place for her. The kids are sorted into seats by last names, so Daisy Duncan and Jay Garcia end up sitting right behind one enough in their group tables. They both turn to face each other, light in their eyes.

“Hi!”

“Uh, hi. I’m Jay.”

“I’m Daisy.” 

She gives him a smile- the kind that her mom taught her. He gives a tight lipped grin back, and Daisy launches into conversation.

“What’s your favorite show?” His smile fades.

“Uh, what?”

“You know,” Daisy waves her hand vaguely.

“The kind that your parents watch.”

The two of us stare into each other’s eyes. Brown meet blue, he grins at me and no sound comes out of his mouth as he says, “Daisy, Mrs (Whatever) smells like poo. ”

I cover my mouth with my hand, and stifle the giggle. Even though we stand on scorching pavement, shoe soles melting onto how concrete, I feel nothing but delight.

It burns in the best way. He and I stand like that, intertwined in time, before some kid notices-

“Jay’s stepped in poop!” 

The scene is broken by a snot nosed child.

Jay and I break eye contact. We look down. Jay is standing in goo.

“Ewww.” I step away from him just because I must- Jay steps out of his sneaker, and I take a second to admire his Lightning McQueen socks. I take his arm over my shoulder, and we do a 3 legged race against ourselves over to the shadier side of the schoolyard. 

We stop at the chain link gate at the edge of the yard and break down laughing. He’s really-

“We did it!”

“Yeah!”

I strike a pose, and he just stands there.

“Daisy and Jay! The dubious duo!”
“Daisy.”

“Yeah Jay?”

“That’s the best name I’ve ever heard.”

I let out a little whoop, and he is by my side as the two of us run through the schoolyard, ready to conquer the world.

—

We have fun. It’s easy to get a whole pirate crew, when you’re both the baddest bitches on the block. We man the cannons and hoist up ladders against evil, outscreaming banshees, and whatever else comes our way! Even some older grades come and join our game— mermaids and sea monsters and merchants (whatever that is) and other monsters have to square off against us two. 

We get called away too soon. Our teacher forces us back into our classroom. The day passes slowly on from there, although the five of us pirates all fashion swords out of paper and stab each other with them once the day is over.

Tomorrow, Jason is going to bring in some swords, and I’m bringing in shields. 

— 

My parents want to let me and Jay play on the same soccer team! Jay is a boy, but none of the coaches really care if he plays with the girls- I get to play tee-ball with them too!

No one else wants to play with either of us, which is a bummer, but sometimes life is like that. 

There are countless soccer fields indoors and outdoors. The grass on the inside turf is easier to run on, in my opinion, but I don’t like the way that the hoverscores can flash in your eyes, if you look up too fast. Jay thinks I’m being dumb, but he gets to wear sunglasses when we practice together! He doesn’t understand at all.

I have to think about all of this while the whole team do dribble drills which are also annoying. We have to hit a ball between two cones in a line back and forth, but we can’t look down. I knock over a cone- maybe two. 

The drill is hard, okay? Jay seems to be doing well, along with another kid- George, I think. He’s got poofy black hair, wearing his older brother’s old jersey- maybe we could get him to be a minion of someone… 

When a kid looks down at their hands, most adults think they’re guilty. That’s what most people think of them, or that’s what they say to them. It’s something I make sure not to do any point. 

Well, I’m looking at my hands now. They’re curled up into little fists on my lap, and it takes all my effort not to dig my nails into my hands. The world’s been throwing itself into disarray every time I close me eyes, and I haven’t slept for 2 days. It’s been rough.

At first, I thought that I was pregnant, but that doesn’t seem to be true. Women don’t get pregnant until they’re older— I asked my teacher about it.

My dad said little kids aren’t the sort of person who is able to do something like this, but something seems so…

I close my eyes. It feels like there’s a pressure in the middle of my head, like my skull is about to explode. I keep them shut. It feels like I’ve got the future of the world open right in front of me. Oh ow… 

Ow…

Ow…

“It’s your fault that she’s so weird! Your mother—” 

Suddenly, I’m standing in front of a forest, tree branches growing into each other and splitting apart. Whoa. 

Maybe I sprint up to the one closest to me and start climbing up the branches. Maybe I reach a small leaf, one that smells exactly like me. I pluck it off the branch and then there’s darkness.

When I open my eyes, I’m sprawled out on the floor. It’s bright outside. That was the coolest thing ever. I close my eyes again, and I feel the hearts of my parents in the room next door. My mom is glowing gold. My dad is silver. How cool!

And when I sit up, some things are glowing. If I squint and think about how things looked before they were glowing, it fades. This is very cool. 

Another kid came up to me and offered to play soccer. He kicked the ball away into the arms of a stranger, and when I went to retrieve it, I got a terrible feeling, and then the ground grew and ate me. 

No one can see me. I could run naked through the streets. They’d probably just pick me up, and redress me. That would suck. The fan on the ceiling above me spins in lazy, lazy circles, and I close my eyes to it. I would like to be anywhere but here right now, so I grip my bedsheets, and curl up into a tight ball under them. My mind goes free. 

I reach out to see through the eyes of different people- first my parents, then the people in the TV, then I retrace my steps all the way to the outside of that concrete building I saw a couple weeks ago.

I disconnect from the body that was outside there. He walks into the building, and I shudder thinking about what happened to me last time I tried to enter that building with someone.

I float all the way round the back of the building and then hang there for a couple of minutes, waiting for the door to open. I’m seated in mid air with my leg hooked over itself. It’s always a trip to feel the breeze pass through me- it’s kind of cool to have it weave through my organs, though little pockets of air get stuck between my intestines. 

Anyway, I have to wait a couple minutes before the doors open, and I can enter the facility again. In that time I look into the eyes of a couple of people on their phones. Someone is texting about their grandma, which is cute.

I immediately begin flying through room after room, ignoring walls and whatever will get in my way. I go down this time. 

Meanwhile, my body opens her eyes, and looks at the map I drew on the inside of my sheets. I keep that in my mind as I start to chart out more of this place. People dressed in colorful clothing sit in cubicles, people bustle about typing with holographic watches. Mostly I just see pipework, rock, and dirt though. It always goes like this.

Even if I don’t find Jay, everything would be worth it. I don’t regret any of this a single bit.

My dad is standing in front of one of the other lab coats with a clipboard in his hand, listing everything that they’re doing wrong.

— 

Etude- 

Poor man. He doesn’t know that I have his daughter in my clutches. 

Why does filth have to fight back? All I needed was for him to listen to me song, but the bastard couldn’t even do that right. I hope he has fun with his new facility. 

 He injected her with the right serum, but I know that he made Daisy stronger, anyway. If I get a hold of her, I can scramble her powers into something less… potent. She won’t be a Daydreamer anymore. 

I should leave before he realizes I’m hanging over his head. Humans are so… easy to trick.  

I’ve been watching this girl. She’s strong, influential. Disgusting.

This boy she’s been talking with- he is something special. Easily molded. I want him. 

The song I sing easily reaches the mind of her teacher, and she gives Jay up for testing. Daydreamer loses her mind! Wonderful. I don’t need to do anything. This girl is so human.

Look at her, destroying rooms and making a big mess. Humans don’t like that sort of thing. Oh what a pity- she’s being taken away to a facility now. The walls are thinner there. I can easily grab onto her mind in there. So I do- I whisper a song into her brain, and I steal a part of her for my own. Her mind scabs over the loss in material quickly. Good. I don’t need to kill her. 

I’ll be placing the part of her I don’t like into a little side closet, where she can’t hurt anybody. She’ll get a window into Daisy’s life, and hopefully she’ll hate Daisy. I can set her onto Daisy whenever I want to. 

And of course, now I have Daydreamer’s friend for my own, to mold and grow. He’s a brilliant pyrokinetic- I’ll have lots of fun watching him be trained. 

Now, to deal with those pesky teenagers trying to dig into the center of the earth… 

I don’t know why I’m in here. I hear them through the walls, calling me “abnormal” and “just a child!” They are so loud, neon yellow and lime green. I wish they would stop feeling like colors.

I can’t say anything to them, I know that. It’s a truth, like gravity and my grades. My parents deserve more than losing everything because I am sad. They’ll do to me what they did to Jay. I want to know where did he go, but not without mom and dad.

My mom is fully gold, my dad is silver. They’re all made of metal; shiny and sterling. They both alloy together, cables of gleaning metal connect them even when they don’t touch.They are the most precious things in the other room.

I close my eyes, then peer in closer- the pressure in my head builds. (They want me to get help, I think.)

“We only want her to get help.” gold.

There it is. The truth does come out. Help- betrayal is a bitter pill to swallow.

“Her condition is treatable, but we need to-” neon green. 

My father stands up- the chair has chrome left behind on the seat.

“She is perfectly fine at home. Maybe an out-patient program-“

The man look at my father with deep eyes, I see that they are ringed with inky blackness.

“We don’t do that here.”

What? I reach my mind out, this place is so big, echoing- Jay is here. All of a sudden, I see the nurse’s face, then my vision goes red, then I see-

[Darkness]

Look, little girl’s come to play. Have you had a bad day? Does she want a treat? A friend? Maybe you’re in need of a lovely hand- come. Have fun. Stay, have a cup of tea. Please don’t go, I love you so, my lovely.

My mom stands over me, my dad and neon green too- my head hurts. The nurse is mumbling something into Neon’s ear. I- what’s up with me- why is my mouth so dry-

I float outside my body, looking down at myself with closed eyes. I’m curled up on the ground. I shouldn’t have done that. It doesn’t matter that Jay is here- I need to leave right now. I try to move but-

[Should I stay or should I go?]

I try to open my mouth to say something, but all that comes out is black fluid. It smells like dead fish. It steams hot in the air conditioned room. The nurse and neon green exchange looks again, who then look at my parents- my mom is so golden, so bright, it hurts to look at her. 

“What have you done to her?”

I try to explain that I’m ok, but the only thing that comes out is more black sludge. I stop talking, and the ichor stops coming out. The feeling goes away. I take a deep breath, and watch my lungs fill with air.

I return to my body after. The blood thrums through my ears, and I taste tar, the kind the government uses to pave our roads.

Where did that thought come from?

Dr. Carwright stutters something out, but I don’t hear him. The room is so bright and I feel so sick. Mommy picks me up and asks if I ate anything. I don’t think so. She nods, brushes my hair back- why is her skin so cold- then my dad opens the door, and I cradle my head in her chest as we leave the room. 

While she walks away, I feel empty. Like something’s been ripped out of me.

Something is wrong. 

“Mom…” I try to reach up and touch her face, please, I need to tell you that… Something is wrong.

Her face is a mask of fear. 

“Mom, something is wrong…”

“Daisy, it can wait.”

But my name isn’t Daisy. It’s… What was my name again? I don’t remember. It’s at the tip of my tongue.

What’s my name?

She unloads me into the backseat of our car. As we drive off, the question stays with me. 

“Dad, what did you call me-“

“Not now, Daisy.”

They’re both stone cold quiet. I need to ask them before I forget the question.

The question, the question- what was the question?

“I forgot something.”

“If it’s important, we’ll go back and get it.”

“No, I was going to ask about something.”

“Well, if it’s important, then you’ll remember it.”

I don’t think I’ll remember it. I pull my legs up to my chest. The world feels colder than it did a few minutes ago.

— 

We get home. My body temperature is 85 degrees. They both tuck me into my bed, even though the sun is still shining. My feet feel tingly, but that’s about it. They sort of leave me in my room.

I try to reach out to Jay, but whatever let me do that doesn’t work. It’s like— that entire part of my brain is gone. I try again and again to reach the thread that lets me hear what an object is for, but I don’t get any sort of feedback at all. It feels like I’m trying to grab thin air.

Everything is so bright. I can’t-

I can’t see. What’s going on? Everything is just a mass of colors, there are just blobs that are moving- oh man.

“Nnngh…” Is that me? 

My mouth tastes like roadkill. “H-hey. Hello? Is anybody…” I cough, once, and roll onto my side, feeling tender all over. 

I rub the crust away from my eyes. I’m back on my bed, lying down, looking at the ceiling. All those lights were just my curtains making the daylight look weird.

“Oh.”

My mouth still tastes like roadkill. I try to sit up, and manage it. I really am sore everywhere. Getting off my bed is hard, but I manage it. It’s a short walk to the bathroom, and I manage to tap the wall button that causes my sink to fold out from inside the wall. I look at myself in the mirror.

I look very, very pale. Also, my left eye is bruised a gross green color. How bizarre. I wash my face anyway. 

“Daisy?”

“I’m in the bathroom!” I cough and clear my throat. My mom enters the bathroom, then gets down on her knees.

“Here, let me take a good look at you.”

She tilts my chin up slightly, so I look up at the ceiling while she scans my face, arms, torso, legs- she touches the bruise around my eye with a practiced hand, but I flinch anyway.

“Daisy, sweet Daisy Daffodil- come here.”

She hugs me, lovingly. She smells like body lotion and vanilla. I hug back.

“I think I have something weird in my stomach.”

“Why?”

“Cause whenever I walk around, it hurts.”

Her laugh is surprised and reminds me of the wind chimes that we put up on the porch in summertime.

“Those are your muscles, Daisy.”

“Er- what’s a muscle?”

“They help you move. If you move too much, or get sick, then they hurt. That’s called muscle fatigue or soreness.”

Hm. Ok then. I guess I have to get used to that then. 

She hugs me for a couple seconds more, even after I start bouncing my foot up and down. When she pulls away, her eyes are red.

“Oh Daisy, I was so worried about you. Don’t scare me like that again.”

I don’t know what I did to scare her, but this is scaring me.

“Ok mom. I won’t do that anymore.”

I’m not sure what I just agreed to. 

Daisy is not going to be someone known forever, she knows, she knows that this place is important. She’s so insipid, and she acts like an adult who doesn’t know anything. She wants her to just go away, to give the world to her. It’s her world over anyone else’s. She’s forced to live in this girl’s shadow, a dream of her’s, someone to sort through her waking self’s shit. She knows that this life is unfair because she sees her Daisy’s memories adults talking about rights and fairness and equality. The things that Daisy doesn’t care about, or doesn’t want to know, I want to know. The sort of life that she has is- I see her every day, and she throws all her sideways memories to me. I can’t understand everything that she does because I am so unlike her. She constantly runs around and mucks around, letting her powers run wild, but I wake up in such pain when she does that.

So my first memory will be destroying her and making sure that I am the realest Daisy. I’ll do whatever it takes to get to that stage, to finally, finally, beat her!

Strong words for a ghost, I know. I don’t really care. Whenever I see her face in that god damn piece of glass in front of me- there are no words to explain it. Anger takes control of every part of me, though I have no body or scream to cry- 

Living in such a black form must not be the only thing meant for me. I will take over her face, mind, and body. Daisy Duncan has my whole life, and it’s not fair. My mom said that it’s some people’s lot in life, but I won’t live like a ghost.

I hate her. She hurts me by living, and I hate her.

Rage consumes me.

I wish I wasn’t so lonely in this place. 

All around me, meanwhile, there are- purplish lights, glowing, throbbing, I can feel them too. When I close my eyes, the singing fills my head. I hate the sound of the music, even if it sounds nice. It makes my head buzz, like there’s something trying to burrow into there. It wants me to think bad, bad things. 

I don’t hate Daisy, but this thing wants me to. 

I don’t know why I keep showing up here. I’ve tried walking up and down the length of this plank, I’ve tried jumping off it many times- but I just circle around it, like I’m iron and it’s a magnet. 

It’s so confusing! I’ve tried yelling, but there’s no echo. It makes the singing go away, but only for a second. It just comes back after I’ve had my temper tantrum. There’s nothing to do but sit and wait, I guess. 

Somewhere between someone new taking on the melody and the empty space, I can feel Daisy’s memories fall into place- the theater of my mind plays a film. I watch her make choices, ruining friendships and making enemies. It fills me with the least rapt fascination, but there’s nothing else to do.

I have to- I have to- listen to them sing, and then forgot that I heard anything. 

This is so unfair! I’ve already tried everything! I already know the things outside- which are reaching closer towards me, I think the area is shrinking, they keep- they won’t stop! I don’t have anywhere to go, and I’ve just been talking to myself, biting my lip, pulling at my hair- but nothing is changing! 

This is stupid. I quit.

There’s only one other thing with me here. A wooden platform under my feet; it’s tan and ugly. I’m worried if I jump on it, it’ll break.

I’ve even tried picking up this stupid plank below me. I just ended up lying down on it, while spinning in a circle. I can see my vomit float to the right of me- totally unaffected by gravity.

These girls again. What a case of baby monsters. 

DreamWalker wants to play around? She wants to make a big old mess? Throw a temper tantrum? 

Fine. 

I’ll make sure she knows what the consequence is.

I was going to let her out of that box soon, set her on Daisy— now I’ll have to reprimand both of them. 

It is very simple to summon them up and throw them both down into the ground. It is easy to set the personality scale to misery.

You may ask me, how in the world do I find pleasure in torturing children? Truth be told, it’s easy. Their virgin screams are the ones I compare adult’s to. If I can have an adult scream like Jay, then I really have mastered that human’s heart.

Jay is still fighting back. He’s tough.

-powers develop
“You need to hold still.” Ow! I flinch away from her, and she gently smacks my shoulder. I sigh, and lean back into her grip. I don’t like it when she pulls my hair back like this. She’s too rough.

“It’s a big day for you today, Daisy.”
I look down and to the side.
“I know.”
She chuckles, and I see her aura shine brighter for a second.
“Darling, you are so young- you don’t know anything.”
‘I know that you’re in love with another man,’ I think.
“I do too!”
“Hmmm? Like what?”
“I know-” I pause. I don’t think saying the truth would be very good. “I know I have to make you proud!” She calls it a white lie. I see why- it’s like whiteout. If you don’t look too closely, you won’t see that something was crossed out.
My mom laughs again. It makes me feel warm inside, and I don’t feel dirty at all.
“You already do, my little flower.”

Why does she have to call me that? I have a name. It’s not flower. I keep my thoughts to myself though, and my mom turns her head to call something out to dad.

I look at my reflection through the mirror right in front me, and blow her a kiss. What a pretty girl I am. She winks at me when my mom looks away, and I smile right back at her. 

My mom finishes pulling at my hair. She ties with a ponytail holder. I turn to face the right when she asks me to; she slips a hair clip into the braid. 

My skirt flows behind me like a river stream and I look over myself in the mirror one more time. I feel like a little kid, and I guess that’s ok. The girl who looks back at me sighs and puts her head in her hands, like a teenager would. I look her dead in the eyes, and she sighs, then walks out of the mirror frame, and another girl walks in, who then glares back at me. I do a little spin, and my split image does one too. 

—

I kick my feet up infront of the seat I’m in. I stretch out so they touch the passenger side in front of me, and it fills me with joy. I kick the seat a little bit to warm up. It’s a dance competition! I have a solo, and the judges are going to decide which one of our tropes is the best one.

I am very, very excited. I have a solo for one of the (movements?), and I’ve been practicing for it. I had to do some stuff in order to get the part, of course, but it was really the girl in the mirror who did it. I was just the one who let her do it. 

The sun hits the window just the right way, and I see the other girl shake her finger at me disapprovingly. I snarl, and put my nose right up to the window, so I could whisper something mean to her.

“Don’t look at me like that. I know you made Ms. Tiana give me that solo.”

I pull back, and she gives me a condescending smile. I glare at her for the rest of the car ride.

My mom parks on the street, and we go into the recital hall. She does something to my hair while signing me in. I join my troupe, and we all start giggling over some of the other girls. 

All the girls in the recital line up behind me, and we all do out stretching warmup in our lines. Tina goes last, of course.

**Add things about Daisy’s dad being worried about Daisy’s development, but in a single dream afterward. Dreamwalker should hear singing.

I hear my mother and father in their bedroom. They don’t talk to me directly, but I hear them. Their words are cold, loving, confused, and scared. They worry about taking care of me for the rest of my life. They won’t need to do that, I promise them. I am stronger than an invalid. 

Whenever I feel the pit in my stomach grow, I fall asleep and sit up in my room. It doesn’t feel like me in there, but I think that’s simply the dream. They are always in the West Wing, always next to the patio- they dream a double dream. A bright blue set of double doors to appear. My parents are consistent. I blink, out of my bed, and appear in front of them.

They’re light, not heavy. It only takes a nudge before the doors fling themselves open. 

Tonight, they dream of a city in monochrome; the color palette is black and white. I like it when they dream in crime noir, all bleak and movie like. They both have fun as James Bond and Q, or playing as two private detectives solving a case in opposite ways. I see them in new ways, the way that they view themselves- they play make believe in real life, and they are mega spies in dreams. 

Faceless masses of shadow people hurry by. All of them are ants. The only two characters that matter are my  parents- I am merely a spectator.

They are young tonight. My dad’s eyes are less weary, he’s missing the scar on his right hand- my mom’s crow feet don’t even exist. If I had to say, they are- teenagers. Gross. I’m never going to be a teenager. (add more)

Small buildings grow into the sky. It’s cool to see the sky as one whole expanse- not quilted patchwork, the way it is in normal life, but an unbroken blue. The sun hangs in the sky on a string. The city is made of pristine white bricks.

Chrome dress and metallic suit, they’re a right on a night on the town. The scene changes seamlessly as they walk down a hill onto crowded street in the city. I stand still and move on with them. After some meandering, they make it to a restaurant. It is cold air– fully formed, bar and dance floor and and (unsurprisingly) soundly make walls. This place could exist in real life.

I’ve seen this place in pictures. My parents have been here before. It hurts a little, seeing them relive their youth in this disco dream. because I know this whole thing is fake… This dream is real to them. I slap myself, and take a seat with the other bodies.

The food tastes like nothing! That’s interesting. Normally, flavor presents itself in dreams. 

Dreamtalk is weird. Garbled, sometimes nonsensical- there’s the real chance the world will change to fit the conversation. Following dreams is almost always difficult- especially if both parties are awake.

“dream nonsense”

I drink my cup of motor oil. The dream continues, but the metal starts to peel away. It’s time for me to leave. I stay unobtrusive, but I feel tense- when the two of them turn away from me I take my leave.

Before I go, I must say that my parents dream of chrome and colorless lives. In real life, they live a shiny, gilded dream- but in here you can see how they see the world. 

These sinking pits their landscapes leave behind void- gray, cold, empty restaurants and dull cities. The world is made by the two of them. I must hold this fact in my heart, know and understand that I am apart of the world in this situation- they change the world, not the other way around.

I arrive back at home, clutching a metal fork in my left hand. I drop it. One of the many creatures carries it back to the kitchen, and I prepare another expedition out to a different dream. I want to visit my English teacher tonight.

She will be thinking of my upcoming English test, I know.

I dream lucid. I control my dreams, but they happen to me. The front door to the house won’t lead outside into their maws. I know that I will see my waking self if I step through.

I bodycheck the stupid glass door. It shatters.

She almost always dreams of industry- big warehouses and white LED, of creeping navy waters and pedestrian street crossings. 

I’ve never been to the places she sees. Her mind’s eye is always open.

Tonight she dreams of her childhood. I see a familiar scene- 7th story apartment, barred windows, mainstreet house. Wealth. 

I see her back. I see her think up a pair of pants(black, shapeless) t-shirt, (white, shapeless.) Long hair, lid(?) back in a bow.

My waking self will remember this dream.

She steps through the closed window; I follow her, a ghost. I must be careful to leave this dream untainted. (One time I left her with my memories and I lost the door out of my house afterwards.)

I am silent, like always. Things change rapidly in her dreams. Some people dream static, things happen to them, but she is always active. Walk, talk, balk, stalk- that is how she operates. Never passive. 

She dreams about her friends as well. One even guest stars!

Jenny. What a lovely specimen. I can admire her from afar. She laughs and accompanies me along the catwalks made of moving gears.

They chitter and they chat. I admire Daisy’s tenacity.

It might actually be her, based on how she responds. I take my leave as the two of them switch to operating those things with metal tongs- fork lifts.

I’ll leave Jenny to her dream. I only need myself, and I have eternity. The thing inside me hungers for a taste of-

She turns around and looks me right in the eye. I murmur dreamtalk, and she turns back to Jenny. They talk as I float away from the window. I close my eyes and try to cover my ears with my hands. 

— 

I want her to go away, just for a second. Let me think on my own, in peace. I don’t need to see her or her ugly, insipid face. 

Where did that thought come from? Wait- what? Why am I so focused on Daisy? Her life isn’t even all that… interesting…

Oh man. Ow. I didn’t even know I could get a headache. I’ve seen her get one before, but this is awful. 

This isn’t just my brain, I don’t think. Whatever I am- we don’t get headaches normally. I have to grab onto this pain, I think.

It’s slippery, but- ow ow ow. Ok, ok, I’ve got it in my head- I just need to focus on it and-

Static. 

She wears bells on her ankles and dances like the world is watching her. You want to keep your eyes on her, but she brings your gaze onto what she’s doing instead. She’s mousy, easily the most plain girl in any crowd, but at night, with her silhouette outlined by someone else’s light, she doesn’t always cast a shadow, and sometimes her eyes glow like crushed lightning bugs. She dances languidly, arms cast out to her sides, bending back— you get a drink of her stomach while she sashays onto her guests’ laps like nobody’s business. She learned how to dance with her audience right in front of her. Olivia dances like a lady of the night.

Of course, you’ve never seen her face in dim moonlight, or in shadowy red fire. You know what she would look like anyway— a husk going through the motions, eyes very near closed, expressionless, only angry when she wakes up from the compulsion. The crowd at the show cheers as she does a little shake. 

The bells on her slippers softly jingle, and she lifts her legs up, her arms up, at the same pace the stars turn, so quickly above you. Indeed, she dances how the Gods like it— ethereal, showy, so they can savor how she offers herself up to them. You stand up to take her before any holy divinity can claim her, and the broken woman gives you an appropriately polite smile.

The jeers of devils around you come to a head, and you give them a wave as you toss the woman over your shoulder. Smoke curls up behind your helmet while you escort her to the captain’s tent. 

The joy of being a commander is indeed, a private tent. You position in in front of your bed, then admire the husk’s soulbound eyes. You unsheathe your sword and cut the leather band around her neck. Her eyes fill with personality, and you tackle her onto the bed. She starts screaming, confused, then angry, then desperately. She’s frantic and uncontrolled, cutting herself on your armor. 

You restrain her on the bed with one arm as she bloodies herself on your armor. 

“Oh, Olivia. This one should do for you nicely.”

You reach into a golden, softly shimmering linen bag and out comes a simple wooden jewelry box. The girl scrambles. You place the box on the bed, out of Oliva’s new reach and remove your helmet. The girl screams when she sees your (lack of) face. You take a key out from your fake mouth. She starts crying and screaming again, but it’s ugly.

“How mundane.”

A living armor comes up and restrains her. At your behest, it cuts her cheek, and you collect the blood onto the key, then unlock the box. A gauntlet holds her mouth open. You take a glowing orb out of a box filled with them, popping it into her mouth. The gauntlet closes her jaw. She bites into the orb, and it shatters in her mouth. She screams more as blood starts leaking from between her teeth. Her eyes glow, shining like supernovas. She goes slack as the glow fades, and you have the armor drop her body.

The last thought you have: you’ll do the same thing tomorrow, the day after, until she accepts a body.

“Come back to me, my sweet.” With that, your soul separates from the demon, and his nightmare world fades away while he hugs the corpse and buries his head in her shoulder.

You, DW, unwillingly fall asleep inside this nightmare of a man.

— 

I open my eyes and summon a doorway. I step right through. On the other side is a violently violet sky and a girl with mousy brown hair and a cut on her cheek in the middle of a dirt field filled with dead soldiers. Flames wreathe her arms, they leave her shimmering with heat, and her face is distorted with heat-moved air. She flips to turn towards me,and puts her hands up. I burn, and I scream.

Her eyes widen, and then time suddenly reverses. Five millennium pass by in an instant and after the flames go out, I wake up in the backroom of my house. The same brown haired girl is leaning right over me.

“Who are you? Where did you come from? How did you find me?” It’s easy for her to spit them into my face, and I don’t know what to say.

I open my mouth to speak, but Daisy wakes up, and our conversation is cut short. I’m thrown back into the closet, watching Daisy’s life through a window. 

This time, there’s something in here with me; the sound of someone humming follows me everywhere I go. 

I’m the only one who can hear it. Actually, I’m the only one here. How did I not hear it singing before? How did I not notice the isolation?

I try to find that pain, the kind that made me find someone else, the sort of pain which lifted me out of spectating Daisy’s life, and I find it. I’m whisked up, and then I’m facing another girl, brown hair, wearing a wooden mask, fire coming out of her hands.

I skitter around to avoid her flame, even though the flame touches all of me at the same time, as if it’s asking if I would like to combust too. No! No! 

The girl lowers her palms and she lets out a string of some sort of … something. I don’t know what she’s doing now.

Time passes differently for us as I reach out towards her mind to communicate with her… 

In front of me is a girl whose edges are blurred into the dream around her, like she’s forgettable as the background.

She looks like a feral spirit, two white dots where her eyes should be, body otherwise made of shadows. She slinks along the edge of my vision, leaving behind inky trails as she floats along my periphery. 

She cackles, hisses and spits: keeping her distance while being a threat. I keep the fire dancing in my fingers, throwing it into the air and catching it while not looking at the girl directly.

“Hello.”

It stops moving for a second. It makes a rattling sound, hundreds of tiny metal balls all clattering and vibrating on an open road-

“You speak?” Childlike voice.

“About as well as anybody does.”

“Oh.”

It gets up on two legs, then stumbles forward, before gaining its balance. Sleek shadow to confused biped, huh? I let her come to me, then put out my hand to shake.

“I’m Olivia.” 

“I’m Daisy Duncan.”

She has a name! A blob of matter reaches out and shapes itself into a tiny claw, before shaking my hand. Her language is shaky and slurred, her words fall off her tongue thick with recent formation— her consonants are not crisp. Shadows so rarely can talk, let alone grow this big.

I dissolve my fire, pulling my hand back, but the girl doesn’t let go. I let her hold my hand. 

“I’m trying to get back to… Wherever I come from.”

“I might be able to help with that.”

The words spill out of me instinctually. I didn’t mean to offer my help. What is this feeling? Heat rises to my face, and I feel Clean. Like this girl didn’t do anything wrong; like she’s…

I want to take it apart, to just put her out of her misery— I can’t. Her face (under all that inky bubbling) is soft and friendly; she’s lonesome and precious. She’s a shadow of herself. I make the decision— my benefactors can wait a little while for my next moves; I found someone much more important than their Kafkaesque schemes.

“We should go somewhere else.”

She doesn’t move, so I throw out a little flame between my hands and play around with it. Daisy seems interested and leans in so close her nose almost touches the flame.

A bit of oil spills off of her body and puts the flame out. My left ear rings right after. The girl nervously starts to scoot away, falling to her butt and pushing herself away with her legs— her hands lose their form, and the oil surrounding her starts to ripple on the surface.

“Oh, I, uh, I’ll go somewhere else-“ 

What an absolute sweetheart.

“It was just an accident. Don’t worry about it. I can always make some more.” I do so.

She stops scooting away. A shadow girl doesn’t have any right to be this cute. Daisy starts babbling, telling me all about how some imposter took over her body— her voice rises and falls in waves; her words become more certain when she talks. The irregular consonants smooth themselves over, and I can actually hear a little girl in there, but all I can notice is how the ink drips off her body as she talks. 

This is the only line that matters: “I don’t mind her being alive but forcing me to watch her? She’s torturing me, and she doesn’t even know it.”

As the oil falls off her body, it evaporates into nothing. The girl is somehow purifying herself, making a person out of nothing.

Her hair is long, for starters. The cloud above her was actually a tangled mass of curly hair— I dream up a comb and stop her from speaking in garbled language for a second by approaching her. 

With a pop, she’s teleported next to me. I fluff up her hair and work my way through the sticky mess while she tells me all about herself and her life.

My mom used to do this for me, while we were traveling in our caravan. She would take my hair out its braid while we crossed the desert, eyes towards the sky. 

We would play a game. I would guess what she was thinking of, and she would tell me a story about herself if I got a few right. My favorite was always about the Star of (big star near the center of the Milky Way). She also used to tell me we were almost there, every couple of weeks.

“There was a man named Alexander,” I started. 

“He was raised by snakes in the jungle. He would wrestle tigers and scream with monkeys. He was

She comes closer. It would be easy for me to wake up, but I think I want to meet this girl again. Something about her says that she is unstable, somewhat able to lash out.

“Please don’t go.” I almost instantly get ready to leave.

“

-Olivia realizes DreamWalker isn’t actually Daisy

-Olivia coaches DreamWalker into opening a portal

-Olivia helps DreamWalker decorate her cottage.

I need to keep this under control. I don’t know why, but today, in class, I read the teacher’s mind to the point where I saw her children having sex. It was disgusting, disturbing, and totally unwholesome. It left me with nothing but disfigured emotions between her and her husband, and I almost mentioned it out loud.

I can’t focus on anything else. It takes all of me keep my mouth closed on the most important items. 

Somehow, though, the internal dream only becomes worse from there. 

Daisy somehow starts to feel consumed for some reason and I don’t really know how to describe it, but she feels like she’s being consumed, and it’s a very uncomfortable feeling, but not unwelcome. I guess she feels like she’s under a lot of internal psychic pressure while DW makes her decision to be apprenticed under Olivia to separate Daisy from the Mother’s reach.

Olivia has introduced me to something so strange and new! How am I supposed to help her battle the forces of evil when I am so young & unproved? I don’t know at all. 

“So, DreamWalker, tell me all the steps again.”

“I have to…” I train off in concentration. What do I have to do again?

I have to keep my back straight and let go of my inner impulses in order to do the work of mastering my shadow form, and when I have my shadow form mastered (a state of mind), I have to save the world by attacking the small men Olivia directs me to. 

None of this makes any sense, but all I should do is follow Olivia’s lead, and everything will turn out correct. 

“Take that!”

The carvel sails around the warship, fast and fun. I drop onto the ship to admire the open sea. The owner of this dream has their sea made of cut out felt. It’s a fuzzy cerulean, and the smell of salt has be taken aback! Dreams almost never have that level of stimulation to them. 

I rise back to my perch, and watch the battle below unfold, detached from the action. It’s Oliva who does most of the fighting, and I am content to watch her attack this strange man with gusto. She says she brought me along to 

…

And then she takes him and hurts him so, to the point where I cannot bear to see her face. 

Then I wake up to my head pounding, headache and nausea, and smoke tinted spittle coming out of my mouth. I remind myself that they are not friendly- even though they say that they are friends. They say that they shepard me through my dreams. They say my dreams would be empty without them.

I have to keep a damp towel over my eyes for now, according to my dad. I thought I would be going to school today, but there’s something wrong with me now. 

I don’t understand how they don’t see that I can read their minds- 

In fact, there’s not much to them I don’t understand. What with their so human gestures, they make so much sense to me.

If things seem like they are spilling out, half formed and ugly, it’s because they are. 

There is something in here with me. It calls out hymns in clear tones; it takes its time making 

There’s a name for people like me. I don’t know it, but I hear them call me it when I’m in between bubbles. When I sleep, they are so clear. They are so lovely.

That would be better, in my opinion. I don’t care about bringing other people down to the bottom of the ocean with me. I would rather sink than swim.

My small house in the middle of inky (blackness) is my only relief. I leave it at a comfortable 75 (degrees) F. Mirrors line the walls, and I make sure to look myself in the eyes as I walk through the front entrance. Plush carpet is soft on my feet- it’s warm. I missed home. I turn around so I face the door, then fall backwards into a trust fall into my house. A bed rises up to catch me. I spring up one time, then land onto a proverbial cloud. I curl up into a ball, and start to mull things over; it’s strange- tonight, I don’t want to walk into anyone’s dream. Not tonight.

If I fall asleep in this bed I will dream. I will truly fall asleep, and I will forget about everything that’s happened to me. Life will go back to normal. 

The beasts won’t be able to touch me or Daisy.

I close my eyes and things start slipping away so slowly. I can see the design of my island bubble shrinking down, down, until there’s only a wooden casket left on the ground.

I have to hover on the outside of it, bobbing in a dark space- this is kind of nostalgic, in a very very messed up way. 

The world isn’t always bright and safe; you know that sometimes powers go out of control… Standing on the edge of this crater, where maps from only 40 years ago said there was a lake, you’re reminded of just how wild powers can go.

It is daytime, with Signa, the alpha sun, just beginning to rise.

There was an esper meltdown here. This lake is now a forest with trees reaching up to the surface, and there aren’t even many trees on your whole planet, but there are creatures here who belong to the water, somehow surviving in thin air, coated in strange slime, with few eyes. There is a forest floor that is dry, keeping small worms and fish larve under every pile of sand, trees with wet bark and shrubs with the same that grow out of the sandy lakebed, fish that are flat on the surface of every tree. They swim along branches, with ectoplasmic slime coasting everything, daring you to touch it, to observe its basic properties, with open areas of sunlight not too far down the benthic zone… 

The forest here is vast and deep, ready to drown you in its diversity and magic, jelly leaves waving in the sunlight, trees begging you to climb down their tapered trunks until you can’t see the suns. 

Daisy has been haunted by this forest ever since she was brought here by an older friend, and the myth stays alive through strangers who told her that there are monsters who live in the local lake. They would daringly walk past the edge, but they would never go deeper than 20 feet in, as the ground would become too soft and they would sink inside.

She approaches the edge of the forest and steps on seedlings growing on the edge of the lake. The saplings and the trees don’t grow beyond the edge of the crater, there is no spill over, and Daisy feels trepidation because she has never really touched any of the plants in here before. She continues down, past knee height, low enough that she can’t see the edge of the lake, low enough that the trees begin to rise above her, low enough that she needs to turn on her flashlight in order to see anything at all.

And what she sees is blue and beautiful. She reaches out with her senses to feel the lake’s organisms around her, and she is stunned to see that they think like ocean creatures. They are saturated with psychic energy, and Daisy gets a headache just by touching them with her mind. She lets them go very quickly.

Daisy continues to trek, connecting to a creature here or there, minding her steps along the way. She comes to a clearing, one with that same blue ectoplasmic gel on the bottom of the lake, and she decides to stop there, brushing an area a little bit with her hands, before giving up and sitting in the gel.

She lays down after a little bit and closes her eyes, in a cool and slightly gritty gel, before she shines her flashlight on the small ferns growing around her. She lays there, completely relaxed and she sees these flowers with little stems sprouting out of (the middle of the flower), spuds growing on them floating below the surface of the gel, and she watches one of the sprouts slowly separate and elongate, so each spud is at the end of a frond, and she watches them stick out above the surface of the gel. 

This process ripples around her, and Daisy is barely able to see a whole series of speckled white appear on the surface of the gel, like little dots of cotton which build up on a blanket as it is used and loved. She closes her eyes and turns off her flashlight, and as her eyes adjust, she turns on her Esper sense again.

This time, she does not get a headache– a small murmur of voices come in, each of them asking for energy spread by the poop of the fishes above them for nourishment, and Daisy realizes she’s been breathing in animal urea. She puts her hands over her mouth. It does her no good, but she finds herself shaking with laughter regardless. 

She lays there, shaking, until she feels enough time has passed for her to cool down, for her to feel connected to the emotions of the forest around her, for her to feel like she is breathing completely peacefully, for her to feel like she is normal and she is not wrong for being so sensitive to the world around her. 

Daisy stands up, backside chilly from the gel she was laying in. She rubs her hand along it and it feel like that gel you use in electrolytic chambers, the kind you use for water based osmosis in chemistry. 

She follows the gentle but surely upward slope until she emerges from whence she came.

She goes on home, a little more settled, and she showers while her parents are out with a search party for her, calling them once she is ready. 

She hugs and kisses them back, never telling them that she went out to the lake where geniuses have drowned themselves in magic. 

*Later on Daisy returns and goes even deeper, where she sees a fish “swimming” up a tree, and realizes there is a deep origin point to all the crazy stuff happening in the lake. That is also where she sees the little blue-tripod guy. If she went the deepest, to ground zero, she would find a dilapidated, dry hut containing the notes the life esper made in order to terraform the lake into a forest, including where all the water went.

Daydreamer is not a utopia, Espers are catalogued and discovered by the government, so Daisy does actually need to limit her powers in order to not end up as a human battery. Their system is peak communism with representative democracy.

Daydreamer world has a much smaller population of humans in comparison to our world, but resources are more concentrated. They have an issues of underpopulation, and they don’t do invitro/test tube babies often.

“Sir. Sir!”

The being in red turns to the being in silver, and it snarls.

“Do you have something?”

“Arachnid-c just went silent,” Red says.

“Oh did they?”

Red slaps Silver, grabs him by his- suit? Skin? and lifts him out of the chair. Red’s two legs dangle off of the ground, and Silver continues. Red holds Silver by the front of his chest, and Silver squirms. 

“Well, what do you want me to do about it? I’m not the technician here! Do your job, and leave me out of it!” 

Red drops Silver down, and Silver shivers. He turns back to the console, looking over his shoulder at his boss’s ugly, disgusted mug.

Silver daydreams about picking up Red and slapping him around a little while he investigates Arachid-c, before the lights in the station go out. 

“No need for alarm.” The voice is layered, pure surgery- a well done one too, considering how smooth and uniform the voices’ tone is.

“We have had this station closed down. You will be needed in the Hexapods’ 5x cruiser to relay the last of your command logs, along with any station updates. Please leave your stations.”

The rainbow’s worth of workers stand up, ultraviolets and jewel tones streaming out of the door, followed by purples, blues, greens, all the way down to reds, and then infrareds. In through the main bay docks comes a woman, completely human in skin tone, eyes perfect diamonds- she scans the room in a slow circle, never needing to turn her head.

“What a shame this base has to be closed down. Silver will be receiving a promotion very soon for being so proper a leader to this filth.”

Yolanda leaves the bay, the lights dimming behind her with every step she takes. 

Outside the station, hunks of metal drop below and above the ship before flying off to the Hexapod station.

An abandoned piece of work hangs in the empty galaxy, with the background being peppered by white stars- until, suddenly, a curtain of ink drips down onto the ship, covering the whole screen drip by drip. 

A chorus sings its joy when everything goes black. 

Red, who was left in the station, is no longer with us. 

A black hole remains. It’s ugly, ugly, ugly. 

This is the only place I’ve ever known. No other forest belongs to me so fully. The trees are thick and the fog is thick, here I find peace with these friends of mine.

The break silence, bring with them cheery enthusiasm! All of them are like me- tall, short, skinny, fat, middle school, high school- one college kid who was declared, “unfit” for a semester. We may have been 20 strong walking across a wide, beaten path, heading towards fun.

The college student and a senior pull along a wagon covered with a worn cotton cloth. It’s a repurposed bed sheet.

It was a squad of misfits- we were, a squad of misfits. Somehow all of us together fall into that role, but somehow we all became our own group of oddballs. How odd.

The sun made me squint. Somehow between the trees, I managed to find myself in the sun’s rays. The next to me said something about this being a nice day- I hum in agreement, then ask for her name.

“Nancy.”

“I’m Daisy.” The sound of boys fooling around looped back to us, and we shared a look.

“Boys.” We said it in harmony, then broke into peals of laughter.

“So, what can you do?” A basic question.

“You tell me first.” An easy response.

“I make fire.” Simple.

“Oh really?” I’m copying whatever she’s saying.

I’m looking right at her, so when I walk through a wall of hot air, I blanch a little bit. She laughs.

“Oh man, you walked right into that one!” 

I look down at my sneakers, seeing that they’ve suddenly caught on fire, and I jump up, then try to put the flames out. The fire is extinguished after a second or two, and I find myself staring at the girl right after. She’s got a cheshire grin on her face, the cat who caught the canary. 

“Ahaha, oh jeez your fa-“

Her voice dies, and I read her mind.

“I don’t like it when people make fun of me.”

She’s thinking of her mom.

“Hah. That’s a good joke.”

She’s confused. Stupid is as stupid does.

“Your mom, I mean. She’s with another man? Hilarious. Figures you wanted to play a joke on me, with your whole home life problems.” She stops walking, ready to say something, but I put my hand up.

“I can go even deeper than that if you try me. Want me to find out who you fucked for weed?”

I leave her like that, all vaguely threatened and bothered.

Again, this forest is my own in every possible sense. There’s been plenty of people who have wanted to take this trail for their own. 

There’s also been a local legend that’s come about- a deeply scared Esper has decided to take this path for his own. Anyone who dares to approach this strange character will have their control taken from them, forced deep into the forest where they will never be seen from again.

Scary.

These idiots are trying to find that mythic beast as well. I’d wish them luck, but that would imply that they’re going to find anything.

If they leave their trash behind, I’m going to force two of them to have sex in front of the rest, unwillingly. A suitable punishment for being disgusting, I think. 

The lake is a couple hours in given the rate we’re going. Everyone is goofing off, even Nancy. I sort of just leave her alone.

This crowd is boring anyway. 

I have other things to do, but I may as well have some fun.

—

((Dialogue about how Espers are treated as 2^nd class citizens unless they’re willing to give up a couple years of their life to being a battery.)

These kids are so dumb. Half of them are already out of their minds and I don’t even think the other half are “human.” Espers can be so weird sometimes, huh?

Like that girl- she’s got some weird stuff going on with her hair. It keeps changing colors, not even mentioning that her clothing is shifting color schemes too, like some sort of broken chameleon.

I don’t understand why these kids have to be so obvious about how wrong they are. Oh yeah, sure, they talk about pride, but when you get up in their faces, they all start to shake or whatever, each one of them get so…

Annoying about it. They whine like babies; it’s pathetic. 

Boo hoo, the government makes us wear these badges so people know we can hurt them on a whim. I guess it’s not fair, but that’s the price we have to pay for having power. Powers.

We’re dangerous, even to each other. 

Not even mentioning that these kids are the lucky ones. They live somewhere peaceful and beautiful- there are Espers with powers like Nancy who’d be under constant surveillance on the mainland. 

Drake summons a sword next, Riley whips out his hammer. Nancy is observing them, biting her lip.

This is amateur hour. Drake and Riley already agreed to fighting to show off, so a girl would look at them. Everybody else is ignoring them. Good move.

It’s the traditional fight circle— kids look over each other’s shoulders and make space for shorter ones. They all murmur among themselves, crass smiles.

Drake spits a hoodie right in front of Riley’s shoe. He draws a cutting motion across his neck. Riley laughs. He spins his hammer in a long languid circle. The air moves under it.

(Whatever the soccer player’s name is) steps right in the middle of the circle. 

“Standard rules. No face, shin, or neck… mind the privates, you two. No need to pull your punches, but be mindful of your audience. Diana, marker please?”

A thin circle, white, surrounds the two of them.

“The first one who leaves this circle is disqualified. The winner gets…” (Soccer player has a slow smile creep over his face, and leaves the audience waiting for his next cue.)

“The lovely Daisy to kiss them on the cheek!”

Pardon? 

“Uh—“

“And fight!” (soccer kid) throws his hand into the air, and Drake swings at Riley with the blunt side of the sword.”

I shimmy my way through the crowd and tap (soccer kid) on the shoulder.

“This is what you want?”

(Continue later)

Sometimes people really surprise me. I always knew they were stupid. That’s a given.

These odd pair- a boy and a girl holding hands, standing in front of me, baby chins sticking out, the boy shaking- this is new. 

“You should be better than this, as our student council president! We just want a club for people who play video games- we have the petitions signed already. You don’t have to be so mean about it.”

This girl has been getting in my way for months now. She’s been so determined to get her stupid club for little boys in my face. I should really…

I’ve already read her mind. She’s whiny, not very smart- she even practiced this whole speech a dozen times over.

“I’ve already told you that the time for applications is over. Why haven’t you just gone to the vice principal?” Probably because she just got off maternity leave.

“I did, but they said that she was out! Look, all I need is for you to sign this form, and give your approval during the meeting next month-“ She is literally a sack of idiotic bricks. 

“I can’t do that. I don’t want to breach school policy. We both know what the (Whatever) club ended up like.” 

She flinches. I got her, and I didn’t even need to threaten her. Her boyfriend pulls her arm along.

“C’mon. Daisy doesn’t need to sign your club thing anyway.”

They both go up the stairs. Phew, that was easy. I had to count to ten ten times. I was about to explode at her.

I have to go to the bathroom, and I summon a mirror to look at my face— reapplication takes a couple of seconds. It’s all the normal things I do.

She and I are lounging in bean bag chairs, chatter flowing between us. The river of words is intense and free, the two of us are taking turns discussing how we’re going to take our homeroom teacher down next. 

“We should give her food poisoning.” That’s me.

“Do you think she’s going to eat anything we give her?”
“We could give her an apple.”

“No we can’t.”

“But then… What?”

Julia looks at me, uncomprehendingly.

“We don’t use your plan.”
“Oh.”

Well, that hurt. Maybe I’m the idiot subordinate around here.

“No, Daisy, we’re going to destroy her classroom and make her think it was other people.”
“Will that work?”

“It sure as shit would.”

“Julia, does your dad know you know that word?”

“Does your stalker know you know that one too?”

“Touche.”

“You really shouldn’t curse though.”
“Oh fuck off. You’re not my mom.”

She looks at me with ice, and I feel my retort catch frostbite. It comes out garbled.

“You ah, wouldn’t be talking like this with your mom.”

“Yeah, no shit.”
Really smooth, Daisy. A beat passes, and Julia looks back down at her phone.

“Do you want to paint my nails?”

I am so lame.

“Uh, no.”

Crrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrap. I look up at the ceiling, determined not to look over at her. An eternity passes. I glance over. 

She’s smirking at something her latest boyfriend has sent her. I am not jealous. Not me. Nope. Not at all. She’s in this room with me. Where’s everyone else? Nowhere, that’s where. Hah. I win. 

I open my eyes. Clean sheets, closed curtains. It’s a familiar scene. I am in my room, tan walls and tan floor decorated with postcards hosting picturesque tourist traps. It’s a perfect distraction from my mom. 

Another day, another destiny. Getting out of my tangle of sheets is easy. Stepping over my junk is a little harder. The trek to my door is a hassle, but I make it in one piece.

1, 2, 3, brush my teeth, wash my face, use moisturizer, admire glowing skin. I look down at the journal on my right, and take down the notes on my dream from last night.

I was walking through a city. A nice part of it, not apartment buildings. A population of townhouses, brownstones, all tall walls and tan brick. I saw a sign saying the city is diverse, but it all had the same tan-gray-tan pattern. The colors argued for control, but they were both just bland.

How strange. That place keeps appearing in my dreams. 

1) bowl of cereal, spoon included

1) backpack

2) pens, tucked away in

1) pencil case.

I text Julia, while pulling on my tan boots. She parks in the driveway, and I leave my house, sitting shotgun, dropping my backpack in the backseat of her car. It’s all the time- we roll by houses at an easy speed, nothing changing even though we roll through different parts of town. I see buildings of cedar wood and plastic alike, next to each other- a symbol of the trash moving into our town. I look away from them and swallow the bile building up inside me.

and so she played her sports and watched those movies, she studied until midnight until
she died & if she went out for strictly one hour, and spent more time driving then hanging out with friends, then sometimes life was like that.

and time for herself was a fable, but a kind one. it was a clean, easy thing to want and to work towards.

she lived her life so simply, one paper in front of the other, clocking in and out of her teenage years, and she was happy.

yes, she was happy. if she went to a concert, it was 2 weeks in advance, and if she had sports before and after, then that was the obligation to her team. she did everything, and socialized, and didn’t have a single thought in her head.

and she was happy.

For a second, you forgot what Julia’s favorite hobby was. 

She traced a semicircle in the sand with her right hand, eyes half lidded and small smile flickering on and off. The sand melts under her caress, and as you stand there waiting for it to cool, the desert whips wayward dust into your face. She is always at peace when doing beautiful things with her body. 

Even as the wind sweeps away your headband and Julia’s vizor, it doesn’t even matter. The glass picks up and forms into rose pink, hay yellow, sky tinting them purple, so the shadow they cast stretches out to both of your toes. 

If either of you say anything, the wind steals your words, breaking (eroding?) them before the other can hear. Even still, nothing needs to be said. 

When Julia is done sculpting, she picks up a handful of sand and melts it into a handle, just so you may walk around the battered glass cones, pulling off the ones that look like teardrops with holes inside then. 

She lets the mass go, and it peaks over a dune before smashing into hundreds of glittering shards that crash and are buried in the dust. 

You both leave the wind farm, prize recovered. 

…

It’s nice to have something undetectable like this, something we can use without question.

…

Ms. Durham is a bit of mite, with a face focused on getting our sorry behinds towards the “finish line.” I’d laugh if it wasn’t so fucking trite.

I nicknamed her “Oh (some gnostic insult here).”

We pull up to school in her Tesla, car door lifting up as soon as she parks. Neither of us talk as we cross the street to the front of the school, making our way inside. 

The world turns noir with how serious we are, just another day in my ridiculous life. I wait for color to return to the sepia world, and respond to anything Julia says with something equally interesting, or maybe not interesting either.

We’re mostly just hanging out, and there’s nothing very special about the world around us— but just out of some paranoia, I check anyway. 

I throw my right hand up, open palm, like i’m holding a vase, and behind me, to the left and right, two cannons appear. The Mothers wriggle and beg, but one- two shots later, and they’re gone gone gone. 

Something plays through your memory. 

-See some of the Places You Will Visit in the Future through Daisy’s Vacations

It’s really fucking orange in here. Also, the room is shaped weird. It’s not one of those cubes I normally see, which is great! 

I actually like this place. There are golden vines that grow up the wall, and there are gorgeous flowers at the end of each. They’re red, pink, white- they look soft, as if they were made of velvet. The room has chairs inside it, along with many different sorts of chairs. The furniture is brown, and every now and then, the legs of the tables start to move up and down on their own. 

I can’t believe all the things that I’m seeing. There are lights, flashing rainbows, all going up and down, and I’m washed in rainbows.

I am going to make sure that I use these things later.

“Ah shit.” This is not where I meant to be. The world is not familiar. There are glowing blue orbs in the sky illuminating a disfigured wasteland, ugly signs and unknown faces. What the hell is this?

I want to hold onto this one. Something about it feels special, unknown. I think something is going on.

I cannot summon a door here. It is next to impossible for me to fathom a creation here. 

I try to wrap my brain around the concept of anything- I end up with nothing instead. This is ridiculous. Seriously, what the hell is going on?

I have places to be, (Paraplegics) to see- I don’t have the time for this. I need to go. 

There is nowhere for me to walk but this endless winding road to nowhere. I’ve been in dreams like these- they aren’t anyone’s imagination but a careless whisper from a videogame snuck into the brain of some poor teenager. 

People are creatures of habit, and given all the blood and bodies floating next to me, I’m going to guess this one has done many bad things- there is something delinquent about him.

I float through his endless dream, and I find it- somewhere between the heavy artillery and the peaceless battlefront, he is there. Clad in bright blue armor, a beetle in human form. He is a lone speck of color, surrounded by lead gray dust and blown up dirt. He makes an excellent target- I find myself pulling up an uzi from his memory, then taking a potshot at him. It’s good target practice; I think. 

He, like I expected, falls over. He falls over and I aim at his prone form again- imagine my shock when the bullet doesn’t connect! All of a sudden, the world starts to fall down from around my feet, and I land on a white ground on my butt. 

The boy in blue is standing up, and he starts hovering, then moving to me in glitch like increments. Holy shit!

I try to make a trapdoor, but suddenly, I can’t even touch his mind. I start scrambling back on all fours, looking right at his faceless visor- all I see is a neon yellow reflection of my prone body before he stabs me right through the liver. I feel the dagger come out the other side of myself. I open my mouth to say something, but all I can manage is a gurgle as he leans in closer to me. 

“Stay the fuck away from me.”

I blink, ready to retort, but my words just crash land back where they started.

“What did you do to m- hey.”

I look up and around. I’m home but still injured Why me? I lay back down on the ground, gravel getting tangled up into my hair, as the bugs I’ve grown in the fertilizer of the island start to crawl up through the rocks and into the stab wound. I close my eyes and let them do their work, groaning faintly at the feeling of their flesh joining into mine.

“Whatever world I’m in, my soul-“
I start snickering.
“My soul will”
I cover my mouth with my hand.
“I’ll find you!”

I start wheezing with laughter. Argentina gives me a betrayed look, but I can’t help myself. She’s so sincere about loving me, it’s ridiculous.

“Look- you can’t say that in front of Ms. Bouler!”
She raises an arched eyebrow at me.
“Watch me.”

I sigh, and put my head into my hands.

“No, I mean- she’ll have you sent to the principal’s office for inappropriate conduct.”
“So?”
“So, we won’t be able to finish the presentation!”
She titters.
“Then you’ll have to play two people at the same time.”

We banter on for some time, but I don’t convince her to change the script.
“Ok, ok, let’s do the whole thing one more time.”
“Fine. If you say it’ll be good, Argentina.”

I close my eyes, and take a deep breath- the lights in the room dim, and when I open them up, I know that stars are being projected onto the ceiling.

“Humans own this world…”

It moves along smoothly. She’s absolutely nuts, but it moves along smoothly. 

i see her. she’s open, her heart is out, and it’s beating, daisy is-

her mom is yelling at her. the heat is coming off her, beating me with her heat, her fire takes all the moisture our of my face. my lips are dry. 

and daisy is in the middle of that wave, and she’s so flat. she’s the salt lands inside of (wherever), she’s-

she’s flat. the fire around her is so hot, a veritable volcanic explosion, and she’s not even moving. she’s just taking every plume of magma in the face. How come she isn’t crying? 

—

oh, daisy. i’m so sorry. is this what being alive is like?

it must be like this.

“Julia, I have some bad news.”

I curled a phone wire around me left hand- I used a landline to call Julia, like I always do. It’s not convenient, but somehow, it feels better than doing anything else.

“Did someone die?”

“Close.”

“Oh yeah?”

Her voice was filled with a lilting smile, a taunting sound that invited me to do my worst. It’s the voice of mischief, and it was unexpected.

“Julia, what’s going on?”

“Well, you know my dad?”

I let her finish her thought.

“He’s coming back, just for the weekend. Mom and I are cleaning the house for him!”

I nod along, and her voice peaks and lilts as she mentions how happy she is her dad is coming back from overseas. It skates across the speaker, does a happy tap dance right into my ear.

I swallow, lump in my throat growing the size of a cancer tumor left unchecked.

“Oh yeah?”

“It’s been- oh I don’t know, forever since he’s been home! I really-“

She catches herself.

“I really wish he brought me presents. Yongben is the tourist capital of the world, you know.”

I know. Yongben is also home to the WenBei Corporation, whose dealings in international law are among the most coveted in the world. Yes, yes, yes.

“I’m happy for you, Julia.”

“… Really? You don’t sound happy.”

Fake pep time.

“I am. I’m glad that- I’ll get to meet your dad.”

Lie.

“Huh. Really? You already know all the family that matters to me.”

A lie.

“It’ll still be cool to see who else made you the bitch you are today.”

True.

“Fuck you.”

“I already did your mom.”
“Pseudo incest doesn’t scare me.”

She really is in a good mood, huh. I say this next part impulsively.
“Julia. Do you want to…”

I take a deep breath.

“-have a sleepover tonight? Sure! I’ll be over at 7. We’re making pancakes tomorrow morning.”

She hangs up on me, after completing my sentence. I smile stupidly into the phone receiver.

“Yeah. Tonight.”

—

-Daisy talks with her friend at Julia’s house.

I’ve never seen the sky like this. It’s all one color, and the clouds are floating gently along, instead of the yellows and blues the clouds normally are. It’s so strange.

It’s not only that. Moving in itself was weird. I had to shake hands with a man that didn’t have eyes

The buildings do not look the same. Here, brick cinder blocks compose an ugly goliath; I feel nauseated looking at it. It’s body is concrete-gray, with archaic pillars pressing marble stairs down into the ground. It could be magnificent, but it’s thrown in between other ugly buildings, and only adds to the chaos of this city. It’s a blocky thing surrounded by the natural city landscape, bleached clean of any real life. It is a wretched thing. I would like to dismantle the outer layers and expose the rot within- I know there is rot within.

The edges of the building give it away. Through my mind’s eye I can see the crumbling foundation. There is water damage there, deep, structural problems based on the lack of understanding of the rock it was built on. 

“So, this is it?” I ask, even though it’s not really a question.

“Yup.” A shiver runs down my spine.

“They screwed up the foundations. It won’t last the winter.” It’s the only thing I can think of saying.

He laughs. “There’s no storms here. They built this place without the normal world in mind.”

“What, do they hire Espers to maintain this place?” It’s a joke, but his smile gets ever more sly. I open my mouth, then close it. 

The world was made for me. There are seats in the park that have special headrests, quiet zones- they offer a sense of peace here. It’s comforting. Life can’t always be this pleasant, this catered towards me. Oftentimes I’m left in the dust when I go other places- places that are meant for normal people. How strange that they use us and then leave us for dead. Oh well. 

Everything here is a technological marvel. The town benefits from being a suburb of the capital of (my country.), and we get everybody they long to keep. It’s brilliant! 

—

I make eye contact with my father through the rearview mirror. He gives me a smile and leans back to ruffle my hair some.

“Dad, I showered this morning.”

“Sorry, champ.”

He gives me an exaggerated stink eye, and I roll my eyes in return, making sure to cross my arms angrily with a huff. The car is comfortable. He is not a man who dishes out what he takes, and I can appreciate using his emotional stability as a sink for myself. I lean into my seat. The headset is finally warm to the touch, and soon enough I see.

I stand in front of a crowd of people. They are all dripping ichor from their hands; they are all sweating black ooze, and I can’t see the whites of their eyes. The fog has gotten thicker since last time I was in here. I look up and around- the shambling masses inch closer to me, and I fall into step with them, slowly making my way towards despair. 

I whisk brown clacka and a white shirt into reality, put some ink on my face- I hope they will not see me. There are no doors in this dream!

It is an empty wasteland. The air is smoke and chemical tinge- like chlorine gas and atomic bombs. I shuffle forward in the field. There is nothing but the sound of feet. I hold my breath and try not to think.

Dread is a thick feeling. I think of my dad strewn out of the hands of a wayward psychic, my mother stolen away- I think of (Paraplegic) with her legs cut off and her eyes stone cold-

I think of Argentina, underaged from who who she is now. I swallow- heads turn to look at me, and I turn around with them to see a writhing mass start to take the people around me down. It eats them easy, red streaks covered quickly as it approaches. It starts to pick up in speed, squelching and oily, a slick wall of biotic mess coming fast at me.

I sprint, and the crowd starts to run with me. I hear it getting closer, and my pace falls with brilliant speed. It gets louder. I will a door to collagulate out of the figures running besides me, but it does not materialize.

The ground is getting sticky now, with oil exiting from the tide behind me. The ground becomes ever more rubbery, and so I slip out of my sneakers and, with inspiration, I jump onto the head of a shadowy clone.

It jumps right as I jump, and I stop moving in order to gain balance. I’m above the sea of gray figures now, and I step from head to head, watching them all move at the same pace I do- but still faster than I was on the ground. 

—cue something about seeing the city in shadows? idk. try to be original.

The sound of the mass absorbing people is still audible- I see the edge of a cliff face, so I follow my instinct and jump off it. I hit my stride, and right as the shadowy figures fall off the mountain, I go down with them. 

I’m tumbling down a pit full of bodies. How wonderful. I prepare a trap door to catch me, and when I open my eyes, I’m facing upward, looking at that thick mass right at the cliff’s edge. I close them again, and when I blink again, I’m looking at the back of my father’s head rest. 

My dad is still looking at the road, and I take a tissue out of the tissuebox in his car, and wipe the black gunk out of the backs of my fingernails. I take my pulse the traditional way- 60 bpm. Jesus. That was too close. I look at him with a side eye- he makes eye contact with me and smiles. I give him a cheery one back.

The rest of the ride is uneventful.

—

Tonight, I feel hot- a fever’s taken hold of me. (Paraplegic) raises an eyebrow at me- I look down at my hands, and my skin is tinged red. I cough into my hand, and burnt magma comes out of my mouth. Tastes like asphalt.

“Your shirt just changed color, DW. Keep it together.” I look at her closely. Same eyes, nose and mouth, freckles- but she has pointed ears tonight. My eyes flicker towards them then back at her face. 

“What, did you fuck a deer or something last night?”

(Paraplegic) purses her lips. “Personal choice. We’re gonna need some cover tonight.” Ah yes, a very good explanation. Not at all related to her love of fantasy.

I nod and hum my agreement, then turn back to the door. It oozes. I pull it open. ignoring the slime that pools in the hallway, and we step into a world made of spicy jello.

It feels like I’m walking through gel. The air is tacky, sticking to my legs, slowing me down- the ground doesn’t move under my feet- whoever is dreaming needs to dream faster. 

I take a deep breath; my lungs start to smoulder. I hold it. The heat inside me builds; my vision is tinged red. I can’t see (Paraplegic), but I trust her to give me a signal. 

I’m on fire. The world warps in front of my eyes, and I feel ugly, just burning up, no real end to the flames within. I can’t- I won’t-

I hold it in. There’s no pressure, only a need, something small but surely there, and I feel so helpless. This is it- I can’t hold it in any longer. 

I open my mouth and my arms wide, I let the flames radiate out of my skin and I can only see red, then blue, then white, then blue and red and eventually the heat fades into small embers, sparks- I cough into my hand as the blisters forming start to sink back into my skin. The burns heal themselves quick, and soon enough I can see through my eyes again.

Olivia is to my left, haughty smile, cocked hip, leaning on one foot, leg sticking out, swinging a keychain around her left index finger. 

“I thought you’d never let it out.”
“Well, you didn’t give the signal.”

She laughs, bright and ear bleed-inducing.

“What do you mean? I sent it like four minutes ago.” I pause. This would be a perfect time to take tell her a part of my concern, but… The image of Daisy, restrained by Argentina, comes to mind. I let my worry go.

“Ah, well, you should do it better next time.”

“You’re the one who made the code!”

She starts to saunter away, and I summon a door for her to exit the dream. I see can see the jello slowly closing up from behind me, so I exit, without surveying the scene. I’ve gotten stuck before, and it’s too much of a hassle- especially because (Paraplegic) is such a handful.

We end up back in my dream, and (Paraplegic) collapses on the grass. She gives me an expectant look, lips pursed, head cocked, arms crossed- I keep walking to the front of my house, levitating the keys out of her hand.

“Mature, DW. Real mature.”

I catch the keys in my hand and don’t say a word. I set a timed trap door to open up and to send her back to her dream in a couple of seconds- I have more important things to worry about.

The traveling clothing I’m wearing unravel and fall off me, with the little things inside my pockets all turning white and going back to the shelves they came from. I snap my arms out, and a white jacket slips onto my arms, then zips itself up. I snap my left hand, and end up in the basement of my little cottage house.

I open the freezer door of my cellar and enter the engineering room. My familiars are all hopping about, redistributing dreams to proper test tubes. One hands me a report, and I take it, flipping through simplistic checklists containing information about what still needs to be done.

“Thanks, Frogger.”

I cough again, and a stream of molten rock comes out of my mouth. A little mole burrows through the ground and eats it.

I begin the night’s real work.

“Good afternoon.” 

“A nice afternoon to you too!”

(Paraplegic) makes a face, and I have a feeling that I’ve done something wrong. What I did exactly, I’m not sure, but that’s the face of someone who needs to use the toilet. I make a door to my left, and put my hand on the handle, but (Paraplegic)’s face loosens, and she shakes her head no. 

“There’s no need for that. C’mon, just…” She vaguely waves her hand, and the scene changes into a room with alien architecture. 

A metal table with the texture of wood in the shape of a cone floats above a lightly pulsing pink crystal, and there are chairs that look the same. The lights in the room come from the walls themselves, and I gingerly hop onto one of the chairs. It rises up so I’m eye to eye with Olivia, which is neat.

“So, have you chosen a name for yourself yet, Not-Daisy?”

“Aha, yeah. I’m DW!”

“Good choice.”

Her smile is even so slight, tinged with worry.

“So… Olivia…”

I kick my legs back and forth, before wrapping them around the cone, and I look into her pretty eyes.

“What are we doing today?”
“I should be asking you that. You’ve come a long way, and I think it’s your turn to refine what you can do.”

“Oh! Really?”

She nods after a beat, like she’s waiting for me to say anything.

“I uh, I’ve always wanted you to see my house.”

“Ah yes, your house. What was it called, again?”

A rhetorical question. She thinks about it for a second, while I take some more time to admire the room.

“Casa de Dreamer, correct?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

I have no idea if that’s the name of my house. 

“You’re going to take us there.”

“I am?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Okay.”

A beat passes.

“How?”

She lightly chuckles.

“That’s for you to figure out.”

I summon a door, and open it up. It leads right outside my house. She shakes her head.

“That’s not what I mean, DW.”

“But this is-“

“No. I need you to be able to move things without the subject moving.”

“That’s dumb. Why would I ever need to do that?”
“It’s to show how skilled you are, DW.”

I don’t want to.

“I don-“

“Do you want me to keep teaching you?”

-she ordered caramel ice cream.

It’s a beautiful day, there’s no question. It’s shorts and cotton shirt weather, and obviously, I’m fitting in with the other kids sitting on the stoop. I’m leaning on Kevin’s shoulder, and he occasionally leans over and eats from my cone.

A cloud or two manages to make a hazy way through a blue sky, and I admire the lines in the air today. Despite what people say they are, those lines aren’t white. They glow, and they pulse with something mysterious. 

Some people say that those lines are a part of an alien civilization. Hah. If only they knew. 

I hear a protest on the next street over- another accusation of too much spending by the gov for Espers like myself. I break out into a sweat, and my pace quickens. 

The sounds of protest echo through my mind, and their anger nips at the back of my heels- I don’t make eye contact, just keep walking, just keep walking- a man, I don’t register his face, pulls my arm. I stumble, then the crowd overtakes me.

Sardines in a can don’t have anything on me. It’s big, smelly, I avoid getting my foot stepped on. The sky seems so far away, and for a brief second, the world is a snowglobe. I thrash; I push; I plead- the echoes of my voice drift to the ground and don’t make a sound.

I spin in my tracks, once, twice, three times- please, let me out.

Nothing.

—

—

I gasp, then sit up. The crowd is still around me, and I see that there’s an open circle around me.

(cue a scene where some guy asks her if she’s epileptic and then the space that they give her when she says yes. cue wariness, and a stranger helping her out of the crowd.)

 I fall out of the mass, and manage to make it another block, before entering a fast food place. Sheet instinct drives me to a bathroom- oh no.

In the mirror, a stranger with mussed up hair and tear stained makeup greets me. The oil streaks on the surface only illustrate my state. Who is this girl, with the smeared lipstick, half an eyelash dangling out? What’s that stain on her jacket?

It’s someone’s- ugh. I reach into my pocket for my phone. My hand comes out empty.

“Shit.”

When I opened my eyes again, another voice was inside of my head. Not in an insane way, the way Tina warned me when I was young— it was more like I had the backdrop of a girl who was ???? Inside of me.

I hit the sack like a rock, I fall asleep so hard my head doesn’t even touch the pillow. That lovely roulette wheel is in front of me. I reach out to a neon blue backlit keyboard, black letters glow up to illuminate my face. 

I begin to type, not in control of my hands, watching meaningless brackets and code emerge onto the screen. 

The wooden knob twists, opens up- I stand in the open doorway. I walk through. It’s time to have a conversation with myself. 

(If one looked closely at the tangerine wallpaper, maybe peeled it back a little bit- they would discover hephaestus, old brick, stone walls, and if they kept going down, they would find living walls. The walls would pulse and throb and I would scream out of fear and pain, but that is what would be underneath.)

Keep pulling away at them and society’s secrets and knowledge would spill out like sweat from pores. You would touch them and it would be so wonderful to splash them onto your face and see the futures, pasts, and deepest capabilities of each person. Would it be overwhelming? For a human, maybe, but oh, there are no such things as you in this world. 

So the backlit world exhausts and illuminates my soul, fills me with fear and knowledge. It fills me with ugly life. 

How exciting.

I have a conversation with myself.

“Hello, Dream Walker.”

The shadow says nothing, but why would I need her to? She is the unconscious. She has no outward voice or desires. I could subsume her in my stead. 

Do you blame me for meeting her with hostility? Do you think I’m a fool for taking her as my own sweet precious baby? Do you even look at me with any sort of anger or fear? Hah. Don’t. I am better than you. 

Hiuqefhuaisfhc I’m done for now 7-11-2019

I gasp awake, and sit up in my bed, then fall back down. Last time, it took me months to come back. I had months of truly living in a normal life— it’s vague, but I think I saw a checkerboard cruiseship and a hellish hotel, I dreamt of schools in spaceships. I was living a normal life. I could live like a normal person would. I still fell asleep in public, in my real life, but I lived in a comfortable fever dream instead of dreading being woken up, oblivious and clueless.

I worry about the midnight city most of all. I protect all the people who live there, Espers like myself who spend their days hiding in desolate lots— they say that they don’t need me. I believe them, but it still haunts me. I am not running away from responsibility this time. 

My homecoming to the midnight city was bitter. I saw another one of my kind— her hair was an oil slick, ugly and angry. She tried to— I don’t know what she was trying for.

She just came at me, and all of a sudden, I was awake. As always, the dream bleed over into real life, and they almost pried the doors off of my house. I dealt with them as I always do— molotov cocktail and the sick feeling of pleasure at their demise. They screamed and shrank away. Their ichor evaporated off of the outside of my cabin, and I repainted the outside a lovely tan.

The inside of my house is lovely. I did a good job with the plants and the pool, spacious rooms tucked between small cozy spaces. The furniture is equally as beautiful. I can tell no one’s been in here but me, and that worries me. Normally there is a trace of strangers taking walks within other dreams, and finding portals when they do.

The bed sinks into the ground. As much as I would like to take a break, there is simply too much to do. I rotate 90 (degrees) and walk on air back to my front door. First though, it’s time to see what I’ve missed. I open the door (stained brown leather)— I see a grassy field, and girl standing in the middle. There are rolling blue hills and a green sky, yellow clouds and a white sun-

It’s a beautiful dream. Props for creativity. Tangents aside, importantly, this dream is stable. 

I leap into it, and I land on my feet. My clothing stays the same. Interesting.

She’s still looking into the distance. I start towards her, almost reach her and I walk around her. I face her. Her arms are slack at her sides. Her fingers don’t twitch. Her eyes are empty- a dark brown, muddy when there should be soil.

“Hey. Wake up.” She focuses on me. She vanishes. The dream does as we— I stagger on back to real life. My head is on the sidewalk? Where am I? I take in the townhouses and I look backwards- my house is right behind me. I look forward and up— the girl from my dream stands right in front of me. 

I make eye contact. Eyes like colored soil. She’s pretty. “I- hello?” I mentally kick myself. Way to go, idiot. The pretty girl cocks an eyebrow. I have the invitation to dance.

Before she can make a move, I sit up on my elbows, right as a police car putters by. The window is down. It’s a familiar face. “Hi officer Yukon- I’m fine. She was helping me out.” He grins as me, and rolls his window up, then drives away. I take a closer look at her.

Her color is blue, verging on purple. Think of the deep ocean. (think of the color of the plums. a few shades darker. good. she has that vibrancy and juiciness.)

“Uh… Nice seeing you here?” I offer a nervous smile at her.

She grins sardonically down at me.

“Do you want to get coffee?”

“S-sure.”

“You from around here?”

“Nope.” I pop the p sound. Her smile becomes less condescending.

“I’ll lead the way.” Huh. Kindness from a stranger.

I struggle to get up, since my skirt’s tangled around my shoes. She reaches out a hand and pulls me to my feet. She’s strong!

Like a complete nincompoop, I say, “You’re got a good grip.” She raises an eyebrow at me; my mouth dries up.

She leads the way. Her clothing is fashion itself, and I dimly realize she hasn’t let go of my hand as she pulls me along. We make it halfway down the block before I finish cataloguing her outfit. She has a lovely baret with the psi embroidered on it. She is the girl from my dream. I stumble over my feet, a sudden throbbing in the back of my head starting. I wince, close my eyes, and blink the spots in my vision away. We’ve stopped walking, and she looks at me, the edges of her eyes tight with confusion. 

It’s not like she can talk to me psychically. I can only do that with Espers who have been awakened.

“What’s so distracting?“

“No I just-” I give her a sheepish smile. “I like your baret.”

“Thanks! I got it on a trip to Paris.” Cool.

I find myself being pulled along again. I’m not worried, if I’ll be honest. She seems like a nice, trustworthy girl. We keep walking along— I follow her step by step, and she tells me, “I moved here when I was young. Maybe when I was 7 or so. Family stuff. This city is a big place, but I like living here…” She chatters on more, and her words fade into pleasant background noise. The chatter melds with the groan of bus breaks and feet smacking pavement, her words become a secondary melody to the city’s big band.

I cling onto her promises about us being good friends— she says she will introduce me to people and places I’ve never seen— at some point I distantly note the city has faded away. I could only hear her. She seems like all the world to me.

The sidewalks underneath my feet slowly start showing signs of disrepair, cracks and faults where there shouldn’t be- I stumble over one. I look up to see old, crumbling buildings. Not in the sense that they were well loved, but in the sense that they were in desperate need of repair. I slipped my hand out of hers, and the world became clear. The white static left my head ringing. 

My feet hurt. We had been walking in a certain direction, not in aimless circles. My eyes widen, and I notice- there are people all around us. Their attention is just on the two of us. I inch away from her. Crap. I’m so naive.

“C’mon. Don’t be scared. We’re friends, right?” 

She gives a soft smile, like she’s the spider and I’m the fly. I’ve walked right into her parlor. I keep backing away from her. Slowly, but uncertainty. I almost want to see what she has in store for me. 

“You’ll love it, I promise.” Her voice is saccharine sugar sweet poison, and I am disgusted enough to pull out my cell phone and call my dad. My hand goes to my pocket, grabs the phone, brings it to the open air- she lunges at me and tackles me to the ground. My phone flies out of my hand, and I am pinned under her. The streets suddenly feel empty, and before she can solidify her grip on me, I buck her off and make motions to get away from her. I get on my hands and knees, start off in a track sprint— she pulls my leg, and my shoe comes off in her hand. I grab my phone and run away, ignoring the urge to stay and chat with her. She lets me go, my shoe still in her hand. I don’t slow down until the potholes in the streets are filled, and I see people in well dressed clothing. I stop in front of a cheap looking store, enter, and then call my dad from inside. 

A man with glassy eyes looks right into my soul, then pulls out a pair of shoes from under the counter— he offers to pay for them as well. I let him, then hear my father’s car horn outside the door. I take my leave, and slip the new shoes on right as I leave the store.

His car is all chrome and fine leather. My dad is many things, and his coolness is easily on the list. He looks down at my shoes and raises an eyebryow at me. I shrug.

“I stepped in a really… thick puddle.” I am totally, absolutely confident. 

“I see.” My dad doesn’t buy it. Even still, the ride back home is smooth, and the fear begins to drain away, leaving me feeling like I’m floating. The radio hums static melody, and we make it home soon enough.

I want to meet her again. There is no need for me to monologue, debate, or philosophize. The idea comes quickly. I am just… elated.

the strength of a leader.

(Paraplegic) is half bent over, trembling from head to toe, and I am without a doubt ready to bring her to glory.

“DreamWalker. We should leave.”
“We just got here.”
“Don’t do this right now, please.”

She takes a deep breath in. (P) is scared. So scared, but this time- more than normal.

“(P), I know you’re the adult, but this is our mission. We set this up, everything I’m doing is to make sure that we’re safe. You can’t hold off for a perfect moment. Our time is now.”

She’s wound up like a music box ballerina. I need to get her to dance.

I speak. “What are you, some sort of child?”
“No. I’m being rational.”
“And where does that get you?”
“Safe, for starters. We can’t keep acting like our- friendship, if that’s even what this is, makes me like being reckless!”

Not what I wanted.

“I think you should stop thinking. We can’t get revenge if you keep second guessing our every move.”
“I hate you and this!”

A pause. She’s boiling over.

“Who the hell do you think you are? You’re just some girl who doesn’t even have a body, acting like you’re immortal! The only reason you’re alive is the fact that Daisy’s dad-“

She cuts off. Her lips keep moving, but the sound isn’t there. I got her.

She goes on for a good thirty seconds, and then-

“-I won’t let them take this away from me! Your stupid, immaturity is at least better than being a trap.”

Then, I move, and she follows. Her eyes are at half mast, brain focused on frustration and pain. She takes down oil and rain alike, precise and gorgeous, oh how I love watching her pirouette in fourth position.

Of course, time doesn’t matter in here, but we make quick work of the Mothers. They deflate and scatter when they see (P)’s passion. I simply have to keep us moving through doors.

“DreamWalker, we need to take a break.”
I stride forward. No we don’t.

“Stop! Just stop!”
I turn my head back.

“You can’t keep pushing yourself like this. Aren’t you exhausted?” She’s pleading with me. I’m sure of it. Even though she’s bent over again, resting her hands on her thighs, taking quietly labored breaths- what does she think she’s doing?

“I’m doing just fine. Don’t worry about me, keep moving.”
Her kindness is agonizing. I can’t keep reassuring her.

“Are you sure? Your portals are off a little bit. I don’t want you to be disappointed if the slimes get attached to you, or something.”

Is she using my words against me?

—
How doe DW inspire (P) to action?

DW says something that makes (P) so angry that she has to act, instead of feeling like she’s a lonely loser who is reminded of the past with that Demon Guy.

I’m flipping through clothing racks, minding my own business, when out of the corner of my eye, I see a familiar bushel of brown hair emerge from the side of a clothing rack. 

“Hey Daisy!”

“Hi, Argentina.”

She holds up a shirt, red, and purses her lips. I look over it, then at her dead in the eyes. I see curiosity in there.

“It’s fine. There’s nothing special about it.”

Does she get the hint? I want her to leave me alone. I’m not interested in girls like her. She’s nothing but trouble. I continue to work through the stack I have in my arms, folding them up easy and relaxed. It’s no trouble for me to walk away.

I do, in fact, walk away. It takes me only a couple of steps before I feel compelled to turn around and look at her right in the face. 

“I think we need to talk, Daisy.”

“No, we don’t.” I somehow grit those words out. 

“Yes, we do. I made a bad impression on you- I honestly didn’t mean to do that.”

“That’s fine.”

“Look, I know you probably don’t want to hear any excuses from me- let me make it up to you. After today, you can make your judgements, ok? I won’t mess with you.”

Does she think I’m stupid? I don’t trust the earnest puppy-dog look on her face at all. She’s gotten me pegged wrong. 

“Argentina. I don’t care if you think I’ll be a good friend, or whatever. I’m not interested in you. Whatever you want from me- I can promise I can do it better without you. Go away.”

I take a pair of low rise jeans out of the rack, turn around, and make my way to the main checkout. I put my clothing in a bag, and call my dad.

— 

What? Where am I? I try to stand up- but lo and behold- my legs are complete jelly. I have the terrible experience of being tied up and drugged, it seems.

After a couple of seconds of flopping around like a fish out out of water, I hear a voice.

“Really, Daisy. You’re so unprofessional.”

You’ve got to be kidding me.

— 

The lights are low, it is blackout hour- the sound of birds that roam between buildings, parks and streets punctuate the undertone of insects. Argentina’s follower lights the way. She is luminescent, glowing neon purple and blue, like a night light- neon bioluminescent tattoos decorate her hands, face, shoulders and legs; they are completely lit up; her eyes are ultraviolet spotlights- she is a beacon for Argentina and I to follow, beautiful in the most alien and exotic way. 

Her tattoos swirl around under her skin; they pulse as they chase each other across her neck and shoulder blades, hiding underneath her clothing, before settling into vines growing down her legs. 

I look into her mind, to see if there is anything there.

There isn’t. She is hollow, brimming with power sure, but her thoughts are still- dams block the rivers of her mind. Her mind is beautiful as well. Wildlife grows around the lake of her thoughts, the plants all shimmer and beckon me to come closer, I hear a wolf’s lone howl-

Argentina places a hand on my shoulder, squeezing a tense nerve.

“Don’t get caught up in it, Daisy.”

I give her a sheepish smile, and we set off into the night. If I counted the streetlamps, each one would be there for … 

playing with fire
She held it up; it was a torch; floated it up and down her arms, and it was a whip, a stream of cackling heat-

her face with golden with the flame, and I could see- the tips of her fingers were singed behind her fingerless gloves.

She looked at me, easy smile on her face.

“Daisy, this is what it looks like.”

She threw a line of fire in front of me, and the heat tickled my face. She spun in a circle, embers pouring off of a curtain of sparks-

“I am a master of my element. Don’t ever forget this, okay?”

It was the whip that did me in. Her fire flowed in strings; she whipped up a hailstorm-
“Argentina-” I try to start speaking, but the air suddenly scorches my throat.
“Enjoy the show. I’m doing this for you.”

Her smile goes from relaxed to focused, and she summons a phoenix to land on her shoulder- its eye is unfair, looking right through me; it only sees the unwilling spectator that I am.

It takes off from her shoulder, a firework launched.

When it arcs down right at me, I begin to back away, but it doesn’t stop, and I find myself jumping through lines of fire, while the sound of Argentina’s tittering grows into screaming with the inferno around us. Her phoenix sings with the joy of the hunt.

“Oh, Daisy! You’re so much fun.” Argentina is sing-song, enjoying herself with kiddish glee.

I find myself dropping onto my knees and bending back to avoid a particular line, but then-

“Run, Daisy! Run run run!”

I slide on my knees, but I don’t get back up in time, and her phoenix flies right through me. 

I feel warm at first, but then it’s fire spreads from nerve to nerve. Suddenly, burning doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. I finish my slide; I just need to inch forward, please take another step- I squint. Is that a door? I’m so close to it…

Oh well. It doesn’t matter. I can’t move anymore anyway; I drop to the floor, face first.

Her laughter is lost in the roar of a firestorm, and then there’s only me and my pain.

My last thought: Argentina has a phoenix?

alternate setting belle

Flatlands. Flatlands and more flatlands. If I look that way, there are flatlands. If I look that way, there are more flatlands. May I just say that this is not where I expected to go. You whisked me away into this other dream with a careless thought, and now here I am, lost in this sort of dream and I am stranded. You said we were going somewhere special, a place so extravagant and beautiful- I was sure we were going to a dining hall inspired by the early 20th century, a place of splendor and extravagance. This isn’t where I thought you would bring us at all, DW. What sort of thing can I ever do here? Don’t give me that look, you smug snake! I can’t believe you. What are you even- are you even listening to me? No? Well, then, just go off on your own! Run off and leave me, why not, be off! God! 

Leave me here all dressed up and nowhere to go, why don’t you. DW, you’re the worst. 

Argentina looks down at the spread of cards on the desk in front of her, picks it up, and flips it over. It’s The Fool. She puts the card down face up, eyes meeting the ill suited man who does not fit into her room. 

“Well? What does it say?”

“All you need to k

Argentina offers me a flower, one most people can’t refuse. She offers me unconditional friendship, a sort of dream, something that tastes like hot, acceptable rain. 

I accept easily. It feels really good to me, the taste of her ability to own me to the social world. I don’t know why, but when I’m with Argentina, I want to do well in the eyes of the outer world, while keeping just a small bit, just enough to myself. 

I like to go along with her power and her inner feelings. It is really good.

I took a tube of lipstick, glossy mauve, and coated my lips. Top, then bottom, then press them together, then pucker, then lip gloss.

Next to me, Argentina did the same thing. Our left hands held a tube of eyeliner- our base makeup had been already already. Flick once for the eyelid, pull for the wing. I wore my eyeliner thin, black- she chose a deep ocean blue.

She starts, “Are you ready?”
“What kind of question is that?”
I shake in my stilettos. I’m terrified. I’ve never pretended on a game this serious before.
“You’re going to come, talk, flirt, and then halfway through, we’re going to be invited to a private room. That’s when the party will really start. You need to do exactly what they say, when the say it, before they say it. Anticipate their every need- they’ll be looking for you to show off.”

She grabs my left shoulder with her right hand, and squeezes tightly. Her perfect nails dig into my bare shoulder.
“You are the best shot we have at getting inside their minds. They don’t know anything about you.”

I nod my head jerkily, a frantic yes.
“I’m scared.”
It’s a small confession, falling out of my mouth without trouble.

She looks me dead in the eyes, right through the mirror. Her eyes are ice. The eyeliner is the water surrounding an iceberg- I am terrified what is underneath the surface. I wince as I hear her laugh. It’s hollow and tinny.

“You’re gorgeous. They won’t see what’s coming.”
—-
I ride along in Argentina’s mind. It’s an easy journey, and I focus on keeping her thoughts clean of outside influence. She has her arm linked into mine and leads me through a tunnel of things I don’t understand. We walk in step, and even though I’m struggling to focus on both Argentina and myself, I manage to make it to the front room of the bar. After that, after we leave the exclusion zone, she takes me along with her as I monitor the situation.

I only see warped glasses and the shuffling of feet, an image every couple seconds, like a camera with the exposure on. I couldn’t see anything.

There’s no fanfare when she comes into town, no trumpets or parade- just some whispered words to teachers, asks for a volunteer to escort her to class- I won’t do it, though. I look at her, (brand name sneakers or something ludicrous like that) finishing off a package of someone who doesn’t look like she cares much about anything. My eyes slip away from her; she’ll do just fine. 

-“it’s a fate worse than death”

“why don’t you just kill yourself.”

—

“This was for me.”

“Yeah.”

I suck in a breath, deep, a faint whistling sound as it goes in- I resist wincing. 

knowledge will set us free from feared godhood.

I snap from my dream to reality in a flash, heavy eyelids suddenly unencumbered by the crust of last night’s gluing down. I stagger to my feet, unsure of everything, and peer into my face in the mirror.

I look the same as I was those 9 years ago, a child, I had experienced the future of humanity and they had sent me home for seeing it.

—

I suck in a breath, deep, a faint whistling sound as it goes in- I resist wincing. 

knowledge will set us free from feared godhood.

I snap from my dream to reality in a flash, heavy eyelids suddenly unencumbered by the crust of last night’s gluing down. I stagger to my feet, unsure of everything, and peer into my face in the mirror.

I look the same as I was those 9 years ago, a child, I had experienced the future of humanity and they had sent me home for seeing it.

—


They gave her original body back; the mothers gave Argentina what they took away. Like it was a prize for beating them. It dropped the creepy mask, lost any pretense of nobility— it turns out that everything they showed me was smoke and mirrors; they were illusions meant to confuse me and corrode my power, meant to keep me dull and confused. It doesn’t matter. I won! They gave Argentina her body. Pristine, aged well— they kept the blueprints in fine condition, then slithered away when we accepted. All inky blackness swirled down the drain, and everyone’s minds were their own again.

Sometimes in Argentina’s eyes, I could see that she didn’t want that body. I’ll never claim to understand what made her want to change, but I realized something was wrong. Very wrong.

She would clutch her chest and she would kneel down in the shower, water washing away what little bits of her remained untainted— the mothers gave her back a part of herself she didn’t want. She said that to me. 

“This isn’t who I am.”

I managed to get through a week ignoring her plight before morality slapped me and asked when I would take care of her.

Her body was small— so small, and I would hold her and we would talk about the treatments that this world had for people like her, when her limbs didn’t match her mind, people trapped in a stranger.


“They think that I’m sick in the head.”


I nodded. “They do- we’ll make them listen.”

I squeezed her hands, stone cold. She trembled. My love took a deep, stuttering breath, then let it out. I kept holding her, even as she struggled to get out of my grip and, “use the bathroom.” 

“You’re not going anywhere.” Her voice brings me out of a reverie.

She is beautiful, so sometimes, when she forces me out of her mind, I am devastated.

I would not want anyone in my mind as I deal with questions from idiotic doctors who can’t see that they are talking to the savior of the waking world. She smiles over at me and squeezes my hand. I take a deep breath in. I let it out. My nerves are more settled. All memories of the past drift away like helium balloons.

The doctor talks about invasiveness of the mind and body- the irony almost makes me tell the truth- but I don’t. We sit and listen to drivel; she probes my mind with some dark humor. I stifle my laugh. We make it through hard times.

Now she wears sundresses instead of suits; she wears stiletto shoes and hair extensions. I’ve fallen in love with her all over again.

Her words are a different flavor. She is less on edge- not softer, but relaxed. Calm. She doesn’t get mad in traffic or flip strangers off. She still spars, but it’s in a dojo, not on the street. She has the freedom of body now; she is seen the way she wants to be.  I am entranced with her outsides that are as sugar sweet as her insides, when she presents me with flowers I want to kiss her, so I kiss her. Her laugh is light helium- I kiss her again and whisper sweet nothings into her ear. She says that it tickles, and after a few seconds of play fighting, I find myself bending down on one knee in an open park on a summer’s day. We are aged 22 and 24, and she will marry me. The bond between us is platinum alloy- same as our engagement rings. It’s beautiful and shiny.

Caleb is the first person we both called. He says “it’s about time,” then hangs up. His tone was flat. He’s lost his parents recently- his miraculous medical recovery meant that they stopped coming by, bit by bit. Caleb’s loss is only melancholy if I think about it. Most of my time is spent with Jay, dancing on grassy fields in Central Park.

One day, I go to the store and buy Caleb two chains- gold and silver.
—
As Caleb is devastated, we rejoice in our marriage- the valley between him and us widens. 

“Two’s a party, three is a crowd.” He swings a beer from his left hand, throws it up, watch it spin, catches it with his right. He’s so young. 18 and lost within himself. I promised him that I wouldn’t pity him, but it’s hard not to feel sympathy for his loss.

I look down, then back up in his eyes. I still can’t reach him mentally, try as I might. It’s the only relief I feel.

“Don’t let it be like this, Caleb.” I cough; I correct my tone into something less motherly and whining. I try again.

“You went into this knowing what would happen to all of us. We were right on the edge of everything, and you pushed us into saving the world anyway. This isn’t-” He cuts me off. It’s crass and familiar. I think annoyance suits him better than mourning.

“I don’t blame you two for being happy- your lives are finally perfect. You saved the world by being yourselves.” 

He looks up at the sky, squinting, even though it’s night outside and we are on his patio in the busy city. “I still need to- save the world or something. Enjoy your retirement, Daisy- but don’t come back here unless there’s an emergency.” He spits these words out like venom, and I almost get up to leave him to his solitude. I pause: friends don’t leave each other behind. 

I give him a blank stare instead. “You’re ridiculous. C’mon, give me a beer. You need a friend, not a weird mentor-father figure.” He reaches into the ice cooler between us and pulls out a  warm beer- the way I like it. “Cheers.” I open the bottle with my fingers, take a swig, and burp. He snickers a little bit. “I’m not out of the game yet. You need someone around- or someones around to keep you stable. I had Julia, my parents, you, some other strangers-“ I tick the names off my fingers, one by one, filling up at least 2 handfuls, before grinning at him. “All those people helped me out. You need a family of your own before you even dream of going on an adventure.”



He opens his mouth, and calls me crazy. “DW is still out there, surrounded by aliens and- and-” He puts his hand over his mouth, and places his beer on the table. I sweep him into a hug.

“Listen. She’s going to come back to us. We both know they didn’t take her down. Hey- hey, take a deep breath.” 

He cries into my shoulder for a bit, and I lower us onto the carpeted floor. My legs are folded under me, and I’m leaning back a bit, supporting his weight.

“I miss her so much.” His voice is coated in mucus, thin and reedy, and my heart breaks for him a little more. I think he’s crazy for trying the impossible twice. I don’t say anything, and I help him weather the storm. 

The night marches into daybreak; by the end of it, we’re both lying on his porch, covered in bird droppings, trying to see which cloud looks most like Ronald Regan, before Jay lets herself into his apartment and joins us in drunken familiarity. We are the golden trio.
—


Sometimes, I wake up in bed with an aching hole in my heart. Someone should be with me, giving me bad advice and making me feel awful for being alive. I miss the casual cruelty of someone who won’t let me be anything, inside and out. I turn around to see Abigail snoozing in bed beside me, her right hand sticking out of the duvet. I slip out of bed as she snores on.

I make it to the bathroom attached to the master, and I turn the sink on. When I look in the mirror and see that my eyes are brown instead of black, I almost break down. My face is weary. I feel weary. How do you lose your soul and still survive? Abigail comes up behind me— she kisses me at the nape of my neck, and I sigh. “Mmm, it’s our honeymoon. That can wait.“ She says this with power and certainty. My breath rattles in my chest. “Come on back to bed, sleep it off, okay?” I nod, feeling like absolutely nothing. She turns off the faucet, and we cuddle until midday.

DW calls to me in the middle of the day sometimes— I look up at a star filled daytime sky, and I know she’s expecting me. My star-crossed sister. I’ll go back to her someday.

— 

“NO!”

I scream and thrash, my sides slowly vibrating as my soul is tugged in many different places. It doesn’t hurt, but I am becoming undone.

The bluest day suddenly comes to mind, and I try my hardest to focus on the one constant in my life (the sky), holding that one thought inside my head while the end of the world happens otherwise, keeping the dead thoughts of my endless loss from entering my mind for long. It takes my whole being and effort to keep them from leaving my mouth in such agony, the kind of agony you feel when you are losing something you have put years into, something that can never be filled again. Not like a losing a loved one, more like the pain of growing up from a child to an adult, except you aren’t losing the ability to hold 500 thoughts at one time, you are losing half of your core.

And as she detaches from me, as Yolanda keeps pulli

They gave her original body back; the mothers gave Argentina what they took away. Like it was a prize for beating them. It dropped the creepy mask, lost any pretense of nobility— it turns out that everything they showed me was smoke and mirrors; they were illusions meant to confuse me and corrode my power, meant to keep me dull and confused. It doesn’t matter. I won! They gave Argentina her body. Pristine, aged well— they kept the blueprints in fine condition, then slithered away when we accepted. All inky blackness swirled down the drain, and everyone’s minds were their own again.

Sometimes in Argentina’s eyes, I could see that she didn’t want that body. I’ll never claim to understand what made her want to change, but I realized something was wrong. Very wrong.

She would clutch her chest and she would kneel down in the shower, water washing away what little bits of her remained untainted— the mothers gave her back a part of herself she didn’t want. She said that to me. 

“This isn’t who I am.”

I managed to get through a week ignoring her plight before morality slapped me and asked when I would take care of her.

Her body was small— so small, and I would hold her and we would talk about the treatments that this world had for people like her, when her limbs didn’t match her mind, people trapped in a stranger.

“They think that I’m sick in the head.”

I nodded. “They do- we’ll make them listen.”

I squeezed her hands, stone cold. She trembled. My love took a deep, stuttering breath, then let it out. I kept holding her, even as she struggled to get out of my grip and, “use the bathroom.” 

“You’re not going anywhere.” Her voice brings me out of a reverie.

She is beautiful, so sometimes, when she forces me out of her mind, I am devastated.

I would not want anyone in my mind as I deal with questions from idiotic doctors who can’t see that they are talking to the savior of the waking world. She smiles over at me and squeezes my hand. I take a deep breath in. I let it out. My nerves are more settled. All memories of the past drift away like helium balloons.

The doctor talks about invasiveness of the mind and body- the irony almost makes me tell the truth- but I don’t. We sit and listen to drivel; she probes my mind with some dark humor. I stifle my laugh. We make it through hard times.

Now she wears sundresses instead of suits; she wears stiletto shoes and hair extensions. I’ve fallen in love with her all over again.

Her words are a different flavor. She is less on edge- not softer, but relaxed. Calm. She doesn’t get mad in traffic or flip strangers off. She still spars, but it’s in a dojo, not on the street. She has the freedom of body now; she is seen the way she wants to be.  I am entranced with her outsides that are as sugar sweet as her insides, when she presents me with flowers I want to kiss her, so I kiss her. Her laugh is light helium- I kiss her again and whisper sweet nothings into her ear. She says that it tickles, and after a few seconds of play fighting, I find myself bending down on one knee in an open park on a summer’s day. We are aged 22 and 24, and she will marry me. The bond between us is platinum alloy- same as our engagement rings. It’s beautiful and shiny.

Caleb is the first person we both called. He says “it’s about time,” then hangs up. His tone was flat. He’s lost his parents recently- his miraculous medical recovery meant that they stopped coming by, bit by bit. Caleb’s loss is only melancholy if I think about it. Most of my time is spent with Jay, dancing on grassy fields in Central Park.

One day, I go to the store and buy Caleb two chains- gold and silver.
—
As Caleb is devastated, we rejoice in our marriage- the valley between him and us widens. 

“Two’s a party, three is a crowd.” He swings a beer from his left hand, throws it up, watch it spin, catches it with his right. He’s so young. 18 and lost within himself. I promised him that I wouldn’t pity him, but it’s hard not to feel sympathy for his loss.

I look down, then back up in his eyes. I still can’t reach him mentally, try as I might. It’s the only relief I feel.

“Don’t let it be like this, Caleb.” I cough; I correct my tone into something less motherly and whining. I try again.

“You went into this knowing what would happen to all of us. We were right on the edge of everything, and you pushed us into saving the world anyway. This isn’t-” He cuts me off. It’s crass and familiar. I think annoyance suits him better than mourning.

“I don’t blame you two for being happy- your lives are finally perfect. You saved the world by being yourselves.” 

He looks up at the sky, squinting, even though it’s night outside and we are on his patio in the busy city. “I still need to- save the world or something. Enjoy your retirement, Daisy- but don’t come back here unless there’s an emergency.” He spits these words out like venom, and I almost get up to leave him to his solitude. I pause: friends don’t leave each other behind. 

I give him a blank stare instead. “You’re ridiculous. C’mon, give me a beer. You need a friend, not a weird mentor-father figure.” He reaches into the ice cooler between us and pulls out a  warm beer- the way I like it. “Cheers.” I open the bottle with my fingers, take a swig, and burp. He snickers a little bit. “I’m not out of the game yet. You need someone around- or someones around to keep you stable. I had Julia, my parents, you, some other strangers-“ I tick the names off my fingers, one by one, filling up at least 2 handfuls, before grinning at him. “All those people helped me out. You need a family of your own before you even dream of going on an adventure.”

He opens his mouth, and calls me crazy. “DW is still out there, surrounded by aliens and- and-” He puts his hand over his mouth, and places his beer on the table. I sweep him into a hug.

“Listen. She’s going to come back to us. We both know they didn’t take her down. Hey- hey, take a deep breath.” 

He cries into my shoulder for a bit, and I lower us onto the carpeted floor. My legs are folded under me, and I’m leaning back a bit, supporting his weight.

“I miss her so much.” His voice is coated in mucus, thin and reedy, and my heart breaks for him a little more. I think he’s crazy for trying the impossible twice. I don’t say anything, and I help him weather the storm. 

The night marches into daybreak; by the end of it, we’re both lying on his porch, covered in bird droppings, trying to see which cloud looks most like Ronald Regan, before Jay lets herself into his apartment and joins us in drunken familiarity. We are the golden trio.
—

Sometimes, I wake up in bed with an aching hole in my heart. Someone should be with me, giving me bad advice and making me feel awful for being alive. I miss the casual cruelty of someone who won’t let me be anything, inside and out. I turn around to see Abigail snoozing in bed beside me, her right hand sticking out of the duvet. I slip out of bed as she snores on.

I make it to the bathroom attached to the master, and I turn the sink on. When I look in the mirror and see that my eyes are brown instead of black, I almost break down. My face is weary. I feel weary. How do you lose your soul and still survive? Abigail comes up behind me— she kisses me at the nape of my neck, and I sigh. “Mmm, it’s our honeymoon. That can wait.“ She says this with power and certainty. My breath rattles in my chest. “Come on back to bed, sleep it off, okay?” I nod, feeling like absolutely nothing. She turns off the faucet, and we cuddle until midday.

DW calls to me in the middle of the day sometimes— I look up at a star filled daytime sky, and I know she’s expecting me. My star-crossed sister. I’ll go back to her someday.

— 

“NO!”

I scream and thrash, my sides slowly vibrating as my soul is tugged in many different places. It doesn’t hurt, but I am becoming undone.

The bluest day suddenly comes to mind, and I try my hardest to focus on the one constant in my life (the sky), holding that one thought inside my head while the end of the world happens otherwise, keeping the dead thoughts of my endless loss from entering my mind for long. It takes my whole being and effort to keep them from leaving my mouth in such agony, the kind of agony you feel when you are losing something you have put years into, something that can never be filled again. Not like a losing a loved one, more like the pain of growing up from a child to an adult, except you aren’t losing the ability to hold 500 thoughts at one time, you are losing half of your core.

And as she detaches from me, as Yolanda keeps pulling away, there is an emptiness that fills up my heart, as if I was a vessel slowly being stretched out.

Suddenly it’s over. I open my eyes again, and I am Daisy Duncan again. 

I throw up on myself unceremoniously. The glow is gone, as is every other part of myself which is full of fairness and life. There is nothing right left inside of me.

I try to throw up again, to make my body so nauseous it distracts from the pain within my heart, but Yolanda suddenly comes in front of me and she hugs me as if I were her child and I keep my eyes closed on the next blink, crying into her, crying into the woman who decided that she would save me from myself.

The torrent of emotion leaves me as soon as it comes. 

“What will you do with her now?” I ask, then feel dirty.

“She is an explorer and an adventurer. I’ll give her one of our forms and send her into space, until she’s ready to return and work with you.”

The next question bubbles out of me without warning. “Are you going to continue controlling Arachnid-C?”

“No. Ming Qi has been done with zer assignment for a long time. Your colony hasn’t been ours for eons. It’s time for zer to move on.” She pauses, then admits some part of the truth to me.

“Zhe was trying to preserve what sort of world she envisioned, much to my chagrin. I didn’t want her to do this, but I became too busy to properly bring her back to creating habitable worlds for our soldiers.”

Yolanda thinks, ‘Next time I will use the time manager they supplied me.’

I didn’t ask for that thought to come… Yolanda gives me a knowing look. 

“Daisy, you are going to have to readjust to the powers you have.” Very helpful, Yolanda.

She winces. “Don’t broadcast your thoughts like that.”

“Oh f—”

I blink again, and I am looking back up at the sky, at the purple atmosphere.

There is a familiar house in the distance. I trudge towards (the man who raped Olivia)’s final home.

The sun is shining; it’s a beautiful day, and I’m lost in a reverie. How could the world be more wonderful and joyous than this?

How couldn’t one fine soul appreciate other fine souls? They’re all milling about so naturally, why I must admire them!

Some of them are ugly, isn’t that a sight? They don’t take care of their hair, they smell- why, some of them are even

Oh. Daisy’s talking. She’s saying that commenting on unattractiveness is a regrettable move. I wear her critisism like a shadow.

in where: daisy is revealed to be possessed.

The most obvious thing about them is how slick they look. Their bodies- metal included- are always vaguely shiny. Their clothing the second most noticeable thing. It fades into their skin, and I already know that it is attached to their skin. I still can’t help but look at them though- especially because they’re protesting.

They hold shittily made signs, which is kind of ironic, considering how expensive their augmentations must be. They all stand in a line- all chrome plating and slick faced- it would be better if they could just choose.

But they don’t choose, and they all chant in voices inhuman about the need to embrace technology, to- to give something back. I don’t know what they’re talking about.

Even still, they put up a spectacle. I instinctively look at them through another set of eyes, and I see them all being run through by a semi truck-

I look back down at the ground at my feet and then up at the stormy gray sky above me. It is like a wall- a single color, oppressive, like if I went far enough across it would suddenly be right in front of me, and I’d have to stop in my tracks or else I’d walk right into it. Like an idiot.

ta

This door has brought me somewhere new. It’s a tunnel, lonely angry, congested intersection, where cardboard cars are pushed along paperclip train tracks to their next destination. There are cloth dolls that sit in driver’s seats and little families in each car. 

I set them ablaze, watch as cartoon puffs of smoke emerge from the top of each car and float high, high into the air. When I look back down, I see volcanic plumes of noxious gas exiting from small vents- 

I take some of this dream, preparing another door made of black-obsidian glass in my mind, and then the dream shatters. It pops like a glassblower’s bubble and all the heat that came with this world suddenly floats away into the void between bubbles. 

I’m suspended between reality, but I’m the not the only one. To my right is the slowly decomposing dream, shint membrane hardening and folding in on itself like cellophane wrapping. A black arm reaches out and swipes it from the void, and I look away to the left.

The poor soul left over from an explosion wouldn’t have survived. 

I see his body turning in this zero gravity. It wouldn’t do to show emotion while I’m in a vulnerable place. I flip the switch on my rocket, but then-

The body gasps and it’s eyes flip open. I see blood and clear fluid fully escapes from its nose, its skin ripples and its bloated organs deflates and sinks back into place. Oh what the hell- I’ve always been a sucker for grotesque beauty. 

I fly to the man, meeting its bloodshot gaze. It reaches two arms out to me- I see that its limbs are frozen in place, like a Barbie doll. Something wells up in my throat, but I quash it. There’s no sympathy for competition.

I summon a spear in my right hand and splatter the newly birthed Esper’s head into mush. Just for good measure, I evaporate its innards with my jetpack’s stream. Its body becomes ugly and distended once more, and it’s quick work to take it apart. I have to reach into its charred black brain matter, and I pull out a silver gem. It goes into my jacket pocket, top left, velcro strap.

I rocket man my way out of there, and I’m olly olly oxenfree.

I bust into his dream the moment he falls into REM sleep. 

“Caleb we gotta move.”

“What the fuck?”

“CALEB!”

I yank at his soul, and he and I warp back to my cottage, while his bubble gets burst, and black tar spills into the doorway I create. I burn the tar away.

“Motherfucker, I told you not to fall asleep!”

He looks down ruefully.

“DW. Do you know how long it’s been?”
“A week.”

He squints.

“It’s been two months.”
“What?”

“You can’t do this to me!” I see them, radiating gold and silver, looking at me with comical intensity, their eyes bulging from out of their heads each, veins popping on their foreheads. My father is a stickman, with long spindly fingers and painfully obtuse (something or anothers.)

“He must be wretched.”

Daisy is right there. Those words drop out of her mouth and go down like a lead zeppelin. We stare at her. Caleb opens his mouth to, but her statement hits the floor and shoots up flames, an inferno that burns my lips before I can say anything. Caleb takes two steps back, he cannot handle the fire she’s spitting. 

I laugh instead, and spittle comes flying out, and even though my lips start to crack with the heat that she’s giving off, she doesn’t say anything. Thank god. 

Her hands are on her hips, and I know she’s cockeney cocked, with an arrogant eyebrowed raised and with contempt making her ugly. 

“Well? What have you been up to?”

She demands to know.

“We’ve been running away from your problems. You’ve been making a mess, you know.”

“It’s not my fault. I’ve been forced to do everything I’ve been doing, I’ve gone through more than your stupid head can imagine. I’ve been haunted by…”

Denial. Her lips keep flapping, and the room grows hotter with her spark of passion, but all I can hear is her lie and bullshit. 

“Cut the crap, Daisy. You did this.” 

She keeps talking.

“… DW. What are you saying?” Her eyes soften. Sympathetic. She mentally pulls back. I grab her conscience.

“Shut up, Daisy. You’re wrong.” It’s me.
“Can you hear yourself right now? You sound like-“

Her eyes flick over to Caleb, then back to me.

“DW. I’m telling you. You’re-“

The room drops a degree. Then it drops two. I level a glare at her. Her eyes aren’t her own. I can’t believe she did this to herself. Maybe rage and contempt aren’t enough for her. Maybe I should just-

I punch her, and I watch the ice spread from over my fist onto her face, it crystalizes on her stupidly beautiful check.

“Look at what you’ve done. I’ve watched you, for years, and all you do is-” Emotion wells up in me and suddenly, I’m carried far along in the wave. I try making my speech again.

“Everything that you do, I’ve been forced to make up for. Why are you acting like this? Why are you being a child?”

I grab her by the shoulders, and there’s nothing else to do but beg her to open up to me.

“Who are you, Daisy? Why did you do this to yourself? Why did you ruin yourself? Don’t you have some self respect? Do you care about yourself at all? Please, please, please answer me.”

My hands move down to grab at her jacket. I recognize it. Argentina bought it for her. I can’t believe that Daisy armoured herself in someone else’s clothes. Who is that brilliant girl I tried making a brilliant general? Why did she… Die inside…

I let go of her. She brushes her clothing off with her left hand. I turn back to Caleb. 

“Caleb.”

“Yes, DW?”

“We have the wrong girl.”

“Hah, what?”

His carefully blank expression cracks.

“Did you just say that’s not Daisy?”

“Caleb.”

I smirk at him.

“Learn to listen.”

He is fucking affronted, and he flips me the bird. Hell yes. I flip my attention back to Daisy. This is my court. I’m going to win this round.

“You sick little shit. That’s not you in there, is it?” It’s a rhetorical question. Of course it’s not her. Daisy would have-

It doesn’t matter what Daisy would have done. Now I need to crack the nut. Her doppleganger has gone dead silent.

“…” The perfect opportunity.

“You’re a piece of ugly shit. The scum of the earth would spit on you. You’re weak and stupid. You fucking failed, and I hate you.  Clap once if you can hear me.”

The body claps, expressionless. Excellent! Caleb is holding her down perfectly. I knew she wouldn’t be able to touch him, mentally.

“You’re going to hate this next part, you slick ball of oil inside my twin.”

I hug Daisy tenderly, then turn my right hand into a claw hand. I let go of her, and pull out her right kidney.

Sometimes, you just need to kill someone for them to come back to life.

She gasps, and something sticky lands on my shoulder. She then screams, loud and shrill, and I hold her as best as I can. I take my claw out, and go for the other kidney. Daisy shrieks again, and there’s nothing inside me but satisfaction. Goo, not blood, is pouring out of her, mending the wounds.

“We’re going to have to disinfect you.”

I drop the organs onto the ground, and I let her go. She stumbles back, then falls onto her back, and grabs her sides. I know the flesh inside is regenerating itself- but not of Daisy’s free will.

This girl will die one hundred thousand times, if that’s what it takes for the Mothers to leave her alone. I do it again, and if Caleb is backing away from me, well, that doesn’t matter, does it?

( i don’t know what to do with this. it feels like a final blow. )

—-

The real Daisy is sweating Red Bull and caffeine, eyes twitching back and forth like she was seeing something move everywhere.

It wasn’t curiosity or pity that made me watch her. The things that had birthed me would do whatever they wanted to do to her mind, and she gave herself up to them. I bet my bottom dollar that they made her feel like she was worth a penny. It’s a shitty penury, but it’s true.

Daisy, while screaming, has brought a new world in front of me. It’s a place of tall buildings and blackened skies on Saturdays; it’s a dystopic kaleidoscope of horror and beauty. This was my home for 13 long, long years. I don’t know how she found out about this place!

As The Mothers craves horror and miasma, as Daisy wants death on all her enemies and glory on her friends, all I want is a beautiful life spent in wretched surroundings, a world not spent analyzing the ends of the earth. I want to have friends and family that are real, that are ugly on the outside, people who have a chance at redemption. They know their lives are terrible, and they want better ones. The people Daisy mingles with are slimy on their skin, they hunger for more.

The cottage Daisy made me live in was her refuge from the pressing world outside, but I find that ugly fields of grain and open minded people of poor beginnings is where I belong. I dash the nightmarish city away, and the sky shatters into hundreds of glass shards that float down and dissolve into confetti.

What remains is a white room.

She stands twitching in front of me. She walks. Her steps are jerky, like she’s being puppeted towards me by a fetus. I match her loping gait with purposeful strides of my own- the rolling black mist behind her comes closer to me, but I need not be afraid.

“Hello, Daisy.”

My hand touches hers without need of anything but touch, there is no ill intent behind my grasp. She clutches my hand in a grip of steel, squeezing down with kilonewtons of force- I feel her skin writhing under my hand as she tries to consume me.

“Daisy. Look at me.”

Garbled sounds come out of her mouth. She sounds like everything but human, and if we weren’t dreaming, I think my ears would bleed.

“Listen to me, Daisy. You need to focus.”

She reaches out her other mangled arm to touch me. I don’t flinch away from the fragmentation of bone, of sinew coating what remains of her forearm. I touch it with my other hand.

I don’t break face. She spits out more gibberish, sends out a mental tendril towards me. I bat it away.

“Control yourself.”

She begins to thrash under my grip.

“I’m not doing anything to you, you idiot. Stop moving around so much.”

No response.

“Ok, that’s it.”

I touch a mental feeler to where her mind should be- a rolling wave of base emotion hits me instead. I recoil from her needs; she smiles something crooked at me.

I don’t deign her with something verbal.

A tendril, coated with madness, probes my mental defenses again. I block it, and glare.

“Daisy Duncan, I didn’t come all this way to get bested by you.” Where Caleb should be lingers at the edge of the field. He does the left arm-left leg salute.

“Are you sure?”

His arm and leg remain sticking out.

“Oh, Daisy.”

I have a good look at what she looks like. She’s ugly, unkempt- she’s fucking ugly, and I can’t believe I get to see her! Look at her twisted teeth, her skin sloughing off her body in some places, and bloated in others- she is a bat out of hell!

“You and I are going to be closer than ever.”

I absorb her, black smoke and all, and Caleb- good, sweet Caleb- pulls out the pistol, and shoots us both through the head. 

DW is insane. I’ve known this for months, but would anyone else even listen to me? No! They just thought that she was kind of weird, like some sort of gypsy that was too young to properly run her own caravan. They had no fucking idea that the gun she gave me- the cute, baby one that looked like a foam gun- would actually shoot fucking magical mind powers. 

I can’t see her at all. She’s obscured by gray smoke. 

I’m going to pace around. DW has literally made me murder people for her. I couldn’t even say no- I couldn’t even feel anything. 

What is wrong with me? Why did I listen to that crazy witch?

>>cue caleb, who places them both in a room, where dw proceeds to merge their minds without the mothers knowing where daisy is. daisy finds herself back in her old body, spitting fire and doing other cool things, while the body of two souls starts causing her fleshy form to overheat. her muscles are really screwed up all the time.

These are my hands. This is my right foot.

“Wow. I’m such a badass.”

“Aha. Look at you, DW!”

“Caleb!” 

I turn to hug him, and I do! He hugs me back, and pats me on the back twice.

“Oh DW. I can’t believe you did it.”
“I know, right? I feel-“

I let go of him, and take two steps back before breathing a stream of fire into the air.

“She never even experimented with her powers.” I feel mournful over Daisy, actually. She’s just been overridden with another personality. A bit of pity wells up in me, but it’s no matter. I’ll just throw those feelings into the fire, ever raging. (Paraplegic) needs more fuel. 

Daisy’s mental palace is literally just a burning wreck. Wow. I make a small ball with my guilt in it and then chuck it into the inferno. It goes up in smoke, and a weight on my conscience is gone. 

“C’mon, Caleb. We’ve got to go kill some black ooze.”

I summon a door for us to leave the blank, white room with. It’s one of those doors with the thing on top that means someone has to keep it open, and he strides though. I also leave the room, but with aplomb! I enter into the cottage he and I were staying at, but before I can start rejoicing, it turns out Argentina is sitting in the living room, holding my tea saucer in her right hand, with her legs crossed, sipping delicately at my chamomile. my prized camomile.

“It took you long enough.”

Caleb is slack jawed. I lunge at her.

“She’s ah- not breathing.”
“Well, put a respirator onto her.”
“It starts melting.”
“Then- Oh, get one of the espers to inflate her lungs.”
“Madam, she can’t be in contact with other espers.”
“Figure something out!”

Another scientist pulls the stupid assistent away from me, and I scribble something else down on my clipboard. People are milling about, without a care. This is- the most annoying thing, I think. 

Argentina lets go of my hand and I bring it to my chest. It burns, festers black, and I bite down on my tongue- I must not scream. Blood blooms in my mouth.

She directs my attention to a hole. 

“This is it. They come through here:

I look at her, uncomprehending. I see her hair growing out, dust flake off her decaying skin— her eyes grow crows feet at the edges, her skin starts to grow layered and cracked. Her soul is so ancient, and I yank it out.

Silvery sinew tethers her heart to her body. She looks at me through milky eyes, filmed over.

“You know what to do.” I listen to her breathing slow, her body falling apart in front of my eyes. Her hair grows long, then shades off onto gray, strand by strand, becoming mattered and oily.

I catch her in my arms as she falls forward, and slowly lower her withering body to the ground.

Her face blurs from emotion to emotion. I pull at her soul, to relieve the pain, but I can’t handle a lifetime of emotions while she is in my arms. I can’t filter through her pain and anger, followed by bitter resignation, as fast as she ages-

I let her soul sink back into her body. Her eyes close, and they stay closed, as dust gets caught in my throat and she radiates heat like a dying red giant.

She dies of old age.

I drop her and stand up. There’s no point in looking at the damage so I don’t.

The breeze blowing past my hair into the hole slows. I didn’t notice it before, but the hole’s edges aren’t like its center. There are little hooks, places where I can pull it together. 

Its edges are infinitely away, it smells like decay. I shiver. 

knowledge will set us free from feared godhood.

I snap from my dream to reality in a flash, heavy eyelids suddenly unencumbered by the crust of last night’s gluing down. I stagger to my feet, unsure of everything, and peer into my face in the mirror.

I look the same as I was those 9 years ago, a child, I had experienced the future of humanity and they had sent me home for seeing it.

—
“Do you think that you’re one of us?”
I nod.
“No, you’re not.”

It turned from the view of space outside, and then warped to my left side. It hugged me close to it, a single arm keeping me from moving.

“Look at me.”
I did.

“I don’t see anything different,” I say.
“You are blind.” It sneered. It continues-

“You aren’t one of us. You’re a messenger. You’re a followup. Those things, the dark ones?”

It grins.

“Those are important. They made theology real. They gave your desire shape. What did you do?”

“You fought it, and you won, but only in the tiny part of your world. The rest of the world is already entrenched in its grasp!”

It turns back to laugh at your home.
“And everyone in your filthy Earth Arachnid-C; what about them? You would think they would get off their asses and organize!”

Suddenly, its laugh is shattered glass at your misfortune, and its beauty is alien; it is nothing and you know-

This thing has never experienced the sun, it hasn’t ever made an enemy that would kill it. This thing lived angry and insecure, passing judgement without knowing what it was judging. It brought you here to degrade you, to rub salt into the raw wound that you so loved.

It was legendary to you only a second ago. The ears, its lithe grace- it has never worked for the things it wants. It is ugly and soft, it was born into this body. It is beautiful, yes, but it is also flaccid. It was granted grace like-

Like it was some sort of pissy, unfair God.

“You understand! This is your God speaking.” It is delighted and so it claps it hands together twice, calling-

A human. One who look eerily like you. He is mostly bald, with a thin ponytail coming from the back of his head. He is around your height, same hair color, the same cheekbones and eyebrows-

“We have a million like him.” It takes the human, and holds it to its other side.

“A hundred million servicemen. People from poor planets that have fought themselves to an early extinction, exhausted, waiting to be saved-

“They’re not cost efficient as robots, but who cares?” Its teeth are bared like fangs. “We get to live in the lap of luxury with you behind us. Our glorious Emperor lives for men like you two.” The thing squeezes me even closer to it, and I bip out of its grasp.

The thing lets go of my friend

“Did you build this?” I ask.
“Ah, the ship?” It is ready to launch into another expose. I shake my head.

“My planet. Did you bring it to life?”
“Yes, of course. The Arachnid system was my idea! A system of humans with naturally flawed leaders built into it? A beautiful experiment.”

I let its words sit, before bringing mine to their feet. 

“You’re a saint.” It nods.

“I’m glad you understand.” Its face softens.

“What is a human like you doing in a place like this? Shouldn’t you have been…”

It trails off, looking for the words. I have to look into its mind and-

‘A human so adept and clever should have been picked up by our sensors.’

“Ah, what?”

“What is your name?”

“Daisy. Daisy Duncan.”

“Well, Ms. Duncan. I have an offer for you. I think you would make a fine test pilot for me.”

the “end” of the world:

if you’re in t-minus 500 feet of the world, you’re dead. the world has just ended for you. you will be subsumed.

but the rest of the world? it won’t be destroyed. it will stay the same, it will be fine. they will feel weird, no doubt. some people will start writing with their own ink. but mostly?

you’re foolish. the world is so big, and you are small. aliens have threatened us years before, and they will continue to. you cannot stop progress like this, even if you tried.

you will die, and your city will sink, but in 10,000 years your country won’t even have the same name. the- future, i suppose, is endless. it is determined.

and you are so small. your emotions are the same as everybody else’s. you feel fear and then you struggle. but the world will keep spinning. more things will live and die. we will all decompose.

so die now instead of later, and let me win.

*the mothers need a small place to launch off and take on the aliens. they need a korea to invade mainland china, in short.

“I’m leaving so soon.”

“Do you think that you’re one of us?”
I nod.
“No, you’re not.”

It turned from the view of space outside, and then warped to my left side. It hugged me close to it, a single arm keeping me from moving.

“Look at me.”
I did.

“I don’t see anything different,” I say.
“You are blind.” It sneered. It continues-

“You aren’t one of us. You’re a messenger. You’re a followup. Those things, the dark ones?”

It grins.

“Those are important. They made theology real. They gave your desire shape. What did you do?”

“You fought it, and you won, but only in the tiny part of your world. The rest of the world is in its grasp!”

It turns back to laugh at your home.
“And everyone in your filthy Earth Arachnid-C; what about them? You would think they would get off their asses and organize!”

Suddenly, its laugh is shattered glass at your misfortune, and its beauty is alien; it is dark and shadowy, and you know this thing has never experienced the sun, it hasn’t ever made an enemy that would kill it. This thing lived angry and insecure, passing judgement without knowing what it was judging. It brought you here to degrade you, to rub salt into the raw wound that you so loved.

It was legendary to you only a second ago. The ears, its lithe grace- it has never worked for the things it wants. It is ugly and soft, it was born into this body. It is beautiful, yes, but it is also flaccid. It was granted grace like-

Like it was some sort of pissy, unfair God.

“You understand! This is your God speaking.” It is delighted and so it claps it hands together twice, calling-

A human. One who look eerily like you. He is mostly bald, with a thin ponytail coming from the back of his head. He is around your height, same hair color, the same cheekbones and eyebrows-

“We have a million like him.” It takes the human, and holds it to its other side.

“A hundred million servicemen. People from poor planets that have fought themselves to an early extinction, exhausted, waiting to be saved-

“They’re not cost efficient as robots, but who cares?” Its teeth are bared like fangs. “We get to live in the lap of luxury with you behind us. Our glorious Emperor lives for men like you two.” The thing squeezes me even closer to it, and I bip out of its grasp.

The thing lets go of my friend

“Did you build this?” I ask.
“Ah, the ship?” It is ready to launch into another expose. I shake my head.

“My planet. Did you bring it to life?”
“Yes, of course. The Arachnid system was my idea! A system of humans with naturally flawed leaders built into it? A beautiful experiment.”

I let its words sit, then I punched Ming Qi Zhou in her pretentious face.

“You humans are so flawed. You assign people in groups negative traits, acting like you fear them. Your biology can’t control your impulses. Even the best of you need to sit and live in deprivation and ignore the world to find peace. Your flaws and biases are never corrected by the people around you because your society is unstable. As your god, I fixed that. You don’t even know what I did to make all your lives happy and healthy compared to the world you came from.

I told her, “You don’t know what it is like to be human. There’s no way for you to have each individual second of how we live recorded. You can create everything perfectly, and anything alive won’t ever be happy all the time, even if you change and edit how we live. No matter how you try to change how we are, life is painful. You shouldn’t edit anything! Encourage a different world, so we can grow…

And then, Ming Qi’s plan dawned on me. This is the only thing she ever really wanted. A new world, so we could grow a different way. We didn’t need to only study espers or how to make life better or something else— those are the things Ming Qi Zhou found important, without ever consulting one person who really hated it. 

Ming Qi Zhou applauded me.

“You found your way, Daisy. What a shame I’m going to blow you away.”

What?

-The Mothers get their revenge.

-fate does not let go-

Litewalker is the most powerful being in the whole Arachnid system, and no one would ever forget it. 

Lifetimes after her first union, the spot where she formed would crackle with enough energy that people would make pilgrimages there, even though the land was uninhabitable. Mothers would birth their children there. 

Myths spread that a star would come crashing down, and that’s when the world would end… little did they know that a star already fell.

When Litewalker landed on the surface of Arachnid-C, she struck the planet so hard the surface broke apart, and magma from underground flew into the air. She was unharmed, but the area was beaten up afterwards. 

Daisy’s body opened her eyes, but the person inside wasn’t Daisy. She groaned, sat up, looked at her hands, and vomit all over herself from the shock.

DW finally had a body, but it was not her own.

Snap back into life.

I wake up with a gasp, stand up, stagger to a mirror-

“What the fuck?”

My eyes are normally hollow black circles with pupils, but right now they’re brown. My hair is washed and kinky—

I step back, but my foot misses the ground, and I fall backwards onto my elbows, scrambling back, heedless of hitting my head on the ground. There’s no comic sound track to accompany it. This is not right. Where is Olivia? Why aren’t I dead—  oh wait, there’s a knock on my door. I flip to my feet, and then a high, nice voice sings through.

“Daisy! It’s time to get up.”

The door opens, and then I’m face to face with Daisy’s mom.

“You’re already up! Good.”

My breath catches— I forgot how bright she is. I can’t see her through the golden halo.

“… Morning, mom.”

“The bus is in 30 minutes. Don’t be late.” She closes the door.

Ah. Well then. I take a shocked seat on the floor. The elevation hits me quite quickly. “I’ve never learned anything about Daisy.”

…

Did you know it’s rude to tell people to shoo? Especially while staring down three Astraea eyed boys, all of whom were pretty gorgeous?

I did not know that. It’s a good thing Daisy’s body has good control over her facial muscles, huh?

…

Class is so boring. I liked it better when I could skip through all the simple explanations. I also liked it better when I didn’t have to do what the teacher tells me to do. The way these people tell me to read minds is terrible.

… 

I did my homework last night. It took ten Red Bulls, but I did it. Small victory aside, it’s an unceremonious breakfast as well.

…

There has to be something more interesting happening somewhere else. Dear diary, I’m out. Bye!!!

Flowers growing from gnarly plants, hardwood floors, windows where you can only see the sun streaming in, simple checkerboard carpet, mismatched pastel porcelain cups full of strange creatures (fairies that glow white, toads colored toxic blues, with tongues like rainbows, geckos wearing little marching uniforms (red hats with the little gold embroidery strings), fish float through clear tubes that run like pipes across the top of the room- they cross in up over and across each other.)

The light lends rainbows where there should be shadows. 

-This was the bedroom of her childhood, long before she became a narcoleptic.

It’s just do-dads from old memories that are lined up on top of wood desks that come up to hip height that line the walls. Snow globes for the summer hunger for winter. Fake flowers bought after the real ones wilted. Stuff less obvious. There is a jock strap for the time I rigged up a contraption that poured itching powder into the soccer team’s shin guards.

But they weren’t really shin guards. Heh.

The ceiling to my room here is covered in pipes with thin vines that grow around them, fairy lights blooming from the inside of buttercup petals.

I’m awash in white light and rainbow glow. Inside hip-high wooden cabinets, small trinkets and toys lay— all of them are old memories (or more) given form. Fond memories or not, it didn’t matter. I guess I’ll inspect them for their flaws— I made sure the memories were mine. 

All weird brain symbolism aside, I’m pretty sure I know how to get out of here. I reach under my pillow and retrieve an encyclopedia. A bound leather cover meets me. I jump onto the middle of the bed, fold my legs under me, and open the book to the first page.

—

The ceiling to my room was made up of trellises with plants growing on them, fairy lights blooming from the inside of buttercup petals.

The fairy was sky blue, the toad had 3 warts- the snowman was made with a cucumber nose, and there were 9 clouds in the snow globe. 

Jay pushed over the snowman, but he appearified a toadstool in its place. We continued to build the fake world with gusto!

— 

I found myself closing the yellow-paged book soon after opening it. I took a deep breath, then another memory slipped into existence. This one was a thermos, smelling of vanilla and spices. Another page came into being. It sat snug between the jock strap (13, older brother’s soccer team) and the boxing glove (Julia’s older brother.)

I took a seat in a wooden chair with wheels and rolled around the room- then the hallway, then the rest of my cottage house. Walls with paintings, sprinklings of color and fancy, etc etc zoomed by me. What did I need to do today, besides enjoy myself?

So I did. I made wands and magic, fought out a hero’s destiny with cannons and swords, became an astronaut, a pop star- and at the end of the night, I forgot to visit (Paraplegic). It doesn’t matter, I don’t want to visit (Paraplegic). She’s been fickle, she’s been annoying and troublesome- why would I want to go see her? 

It’s simple enough not to. 

It’s so quiet outside. My midnight city bustles inside its, and I admire it— the citizens are starting a new show. I feel as though I have the most beautiful way to start or end everything, that I have a proper house and home. I don’t know what my waking self has been up to, but I can tell that she must have done something extreme.

The inky blackness outside my home has receded- in fact, there’s nothing left out there. There’s nothing! The oppressive, inky shadows are gone- the air doesn’t smell like musky, hidden death. My house is on an island with a sandstone base, it looks like something out of a fantasy novel. I don’t know what the hell is happening. 

I haven’t needed to sleep recently, in fact, I haven’t needed to sleep at all. It’s so strange. 

I- I need to see what’s out there. A door to my left will lead to the storage room, and I turn on the fluorescent light inside. I weave my way through piles of plastic colored junk, until I see, out of the corner of my eye, a rock climbing harness and pulley. I keep scavenging, and nylon rope is easy to find. The rest of the equipment- telescopes, sonar machines, a gun, anything that will help me record the outside of my home- marches out of their piles and follow me in a line back inside the main house. They all jump into a backpack I keep in the greeting room of my house, and I turn on all the security in the meantime.

The backpack is slung onto my back, and I step outside. My attire chances into a pair of new trainers, plus a pair of well worn jeans. 

The void doesn’t even feel like it’s glaring at me. What do I do? Where do I start? I feel aimless and confused, completely lacking in knowledge and ability. I- 

“Get a hold of yourself!” I slap myself on the forehead. Overthinking got me stuck in the mess that Daisy needed to help me out of. 

I hold all the equipment up to my waist, and they appear onto my form with a popping sound. The pulley is attached to the wall of the cottage, and the crank attached to it begins to unwind. I backpedal my way to the end of the island, and I step backwards off the edge of it. The last thing I see before I start my way into oblivion is the sight of the light in my room winking at me.

The descent is slow and long. I appearified a spotlight a couple of times, fully expecting to need it to look for anything that will slow my progress down. The beam of light stays focused into the depths, but it doesn’t catch onto anything. I don’t see anything. 

I’m not like a human. I tried making an infinite hallway and even though I couldn’t walk to the end of it, I was able to always see the wall at the far end of it. I can do that with anything. I can see into forever.

It’s empty and cold. I think I have chickenpox. No, that’s not it. Goosebumps. I have goosebumps. I guess I can— 

A blanket wraps itself around me. Neat. I put my face into it, and breathe through it. 

I still haven’t seen anything else yet.

It was a 

It’s empty. Dust takes my beam away from me, it refracts the light into little bits and the photons are scattered into the- the-

Whatever this air is. I would say that I’m scared, but truth be told, there’s not much to fear while I’m exploring. The adventure is heightened ever greater ta=han the 

A thousand reaching hands pull up and ask “take me,” and tens of thousands of hands are below those, and I am within that shifting crowd, undifferentiated, arm in the sky, asking very earnestly, to be brought up too. 

Even though I am within that mass (holding a dream to my belly), it seems that I’ll do something special when I leave hell. Yes, something very special, right when I leave hell. I’ll start an institution and have people who work for me, and it will be the world’s best ending to have this done for me.

But I’m lost inside a swirling mass of other people’s hopes and dreams, if only for now. Will it stay this way? Maybe, just maybe.

-“I’m tired of being scared of my parents and my friends, of fucking up and dying without ever having a girlfriend-“

“My life is so boring. At least you’re cute, you know?”

I don’t respond, but I think he knew I agreed. His hand touched mine, and static ran through me.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

His thumb traced over the back of my hand- I flipped his wrist and grabbed hold of his hand. Our fingers intertwined and if he said anything I was going to rip him a new one.

There’s Daisy again, messing with my head. I don’t know what was done to her, and I’m scared for her. 

I’ve thrown up a radar beacon. Why? I am… stuck. I need something to help save me.

What’s this girl doing?

Derse Dreamer does not flinch ever. Even if there is a serious amount of pain headed her way, she stays very still, choosing only to blink as it pounds her in the face.

As such, the torrent of information she is about to receive will only embolden her further.

Matronly history is a calm and easy thing for her to understand! 

Caleb holds up a frying pan in his left hand, right hand tight on the wheel, and I have a tin baseball bat in both of mine- when I smash the next mailbox, he gives me a dead eyed stare. I laugh, long and hard, and he steps on the accelerator. Enabling my delinquency: he’s the best.

I start. “Do you think the Feds are after us?”

“Nah.”

Well then- “Do you think the police are after us?”

“Nah.”

“Do you think our parents are after us?”
“Nah… Well, maybe.” He gives me a side eye and a smile. I roll my eyes, throw my head back a little, then look out at the scenery. 

Bang, another mailbox is knocked off. Its tinny clatter is music to my ears, and we drive off before it stops rolling. 

I look back at him and, well, his grin is crooked. There’s nothing more to it- it’s just crooked. It’s great.

I mirror him, a parrot of the finest plumage. This is nice, I decide. With every fallen mailbox, a weight off of me is lifted. It slides off me like an easy thing, like melting ice cream off a cone. The car lolls by, colored shiny silver by the midday sun. I stroke a hand across the outside of the car, and another mailbox comes flying off. 

“Hey Caleb.”

“Yeah?”

“Pick up the pace.”

“Yes captain.”

I grip the bat with both hands, the car accelerates, and I hit home run after home run after home run. 

We move fast so the horizon is left behind. Nothing will stop us.

—

The car is now in my hands, and I find my eyes dry- I can see Caleb through the rearview mirror, although the night has him fading into the backseat. I’m glad he buckled himself in, head against the upholstery- he’s cute like this, feet on the leather seat, totally asleep. He’s even drooling a little- it’s really cute. 

I turn back to the road, stick my right hand up into the air, and open and close my fist. The road stretches out, somewhat covered in sand- I don’t know what I was really expecting, but it wasn’t this. I’ve driven for Caleb before- not sleeping has its benefits- but I still don’t know what to do during the night time.

My skin is prickly, but I don’t feel cold. I don’t feel much sensation at night- or much, anything. The car headlights are the only things that’re alight right now. What else is there to do but keep my eyes on the road, even though it’s- the car dashboard says 12:40. That doesn’t make any sense, so I’ll just ignore it. Whatever.

Back to driving. The desert is bland. Really, really flat. We’ve been cruising from small town to small town, acting like best friends, or boyfriend and girlfriend, or cousins, or newlyweds- whatever it takes to make sure no one is suspicious of us. Sometimes I swear that someone’s going to find us and kill us- but that’s only when the sun spits fire in my eyes, when it rises. 

What is there to do, to see? We’re going to roll right to the border, we’re going to risk death in the canyons and mountains between the (us and mexico or whatever), we’re going to get killed. Caleb is trusting me to drive us to our deaths.

I can’t say I mind too much- What’s there to mind? Daisy saw all the numbers there were ever to see, and I remember everything. I see the death counts, I see what supplies we’ll need for the fortnight’s hike- I’ve already had to dig into some of our hidden cash, and I don’t think we’ll stop spending anytime soon.

The moon is full, but it’s empty. The eye inside the moon is closed, and I feel free. I am so free! 

I rev the engine, once, then twice, and the car sings under my hands. No one else is around, and no one else will be around. Now is the perfect time for me to-

Let loose.

I see the frost grow on my fingertips, and the cold metal of the car enters my mind’s eye. It grows, and soon enough, the whole car is in my grip. We start floating, and I take my foot off the accelerator! 

Damien lives in a city imof youth where the most beautiufl and cold have the greatest fortune, where he is a rising star, and where the deadliest live. It is an awful place for girls like me to grow up, but they are surely the best in providing a deadly shipping/technology/sociopathic backbone for the country. It’s the city where people go to die and be reborn by fire, if at all. 

The city of youth was written about in my blue notebook (WHERE IS IT) and it contains beautiful things such as bubbles which open up and houses built into the sides of steep tall hills while moving into the world. It contains things such as a wonderfully interesting looking teleportation or something of that nature port and it has a large pavilion dedicated to smoozing, like how the Roman senators had it. They have a way of having their whole city fold up during the nighttime so the plants can relish the moonlight, then the city unfolds during the day when people move around. The surrounding area is mostly supple farmland, and the city is located in a valley beneath where the avian city (in Monster Mash) is located.

People turned away from these strangers as if they had committed some sort of crime by being alive. The strangers were huddled into each other, beating the soil in synchronized step, and the world parted for them, but it was as if they were lepers. It was a sad sort of comical, and so, I naturally joined their marching gang. Caleb did not even try to stop me, turning towards the sun instead.

Walking with huddled strangers is probably one of the most peculiar experiences ever. It is similar to being unhurried and sad, but you are also not aware of why they are huddled and disease ridden, so you simply stay in lock step with them, and you look over the crowd for someone who is cute and young, intending on making a friendly accquaintence for the day.

You see a girl who is suitably bright eyed and young, so you moosey your way over to her and she gives you a sideways look; you keep your face totally blank and she turns away, then back to you, then to her mother, then she detaches from her and goes over to you and you find yourself engaging with this girl.

“Where are you from?”

Blunt. Forward. You like it. 

“A small island in the (whatever sea), close to (whatever coast).”

“Ah! I’ve heard of it before.”

Her smile grows a little wider, and you see that she is merely excited to be there. She starts to delve into questions about your family, asking you more specifically about who are you as a person and what brought you closer to her crowd. You answer the best that you can, but she throws you off with her strange code…

“Does the bird carry you to the eastern sun?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Ah, I mean, do you enjoy the sorts of travel you do?”

“Oh. Yes, very much so.”

What the hell is… “eastern?”

Her island floats with a series of interlocking vines acting as a safety net for people to walk across, and DW/Caleb swallow hesitantly as they march forward to meet the woman herself, Cassandra, and her owner, Cerci. 

Cerci is a sharp, older woman who greets them first by asking them both to sign into her island as visitors (making sure to have Caleb put on a pin designating him as a male) and then by taking them on a tour of her island. She lets them stay for 2 weeks before DW asks to meet Cassandra, as DW needs her help in locating the space needle, and Cerci agrees, so long as DW leaves Caleb behind and helps her shore up the fortress defenses for a little bit. DW agrees suspiciously, but communicates with Caleb through a basic radio (airing on FM) and they both discuss how Cerci’s dividing them based on nothing, considering Caleb is better at fortress defense, while DW is the one who moves things around. 

With Caleb’s help, DW comes up with an idea to help solve one of Cerci’s problems and DW goes to meet Cassandra who is an even older woman who used to be a singer, and Cassandra is very loving and kind towards DW, telling her something mysterious (alluding to the fact DW is not going to come back to Arachnid-C after the Space Needle is pulled out). 

After they have that harrowing escape (where Cierci isn’t actually trying to kill them, but where they could have legitimately died,) they both head to the space needle and to the field of dead monsters. 

a talk. DW and Caleb get serious.

“They like confidence, DW. When things are hard, having something that makes life seem better- even if it isn’t- helps. You can fail them a hundred thousand times, as long as things look good- they just don’t care.”

He looks down at his hands. (Something about his mom). He closes his eyes and leans back.

“She’s the only reason I’m here, you know.”

“All the girls in my life were scared of me, Daisy. They all tittered and laughed, sure, and they tried to be sexy, but they were all so fake. Every single one of them was obsessed with me, and they all took each other down to lower levels, so I would pay attention to one of them.”

He coughs out a shallow laugh.

“Girls are so… petty. No offense, DW.”

I don’t say anything. Caleb turns to me, dark slits where his eyes should be.

“You’re not like them. You were looking for someone who could lend you a car. Christ, one of my boys nearly shot you! We thought you were just some dumb, schizo white girl who we could’ve had fun with. One of my lieutenants wanted your hair, did you know that?”

I shake my head.

“Of course, you can stop bullets with your mind, which is still scary as hell, but you know… You know.”

He waves into the air vaguely.

“How’d a girl even get like you? You don’t have friends, your family put out a bounty on you- I thought my life was fucked up, but you waltzed in with your issues and some stranger’s too!”

He takes a deep breath, running his right hand over his jawline.

“Aliens are real, and they’ve been doing all sorts of nasty stuff to humans. It’s crazy, DW. They’re worming somewhere they shouldn’t be.”

He throws a butterfly knife into the air and catches it with his opposite hand.
“But it’s all good with me. I get to save my mama now and make her live better than even Oprah Winfrey. 

“DW, you’re a real nightmare to be around, but I’m glad I meet you. Now get off your ass. We’ve got a world to save.

“Caleb, we didn’t save the world… “
I say like there’s something else to come at the end of the thought, but the words don’t come out. It feels like someone just pulled the noose around my neck. I stand up and brush off my pants, then we start walking.

He flicks out the knife, and begins to do tricks with it.
“Sure seems that way to me. DW, you’re full of shit.”
“I’m really not.”

“Yeah you are. You’re also weird as fuck.”

“I’m really being serious, Caleb. Don’t make me explain myself in English.“
“Oh, I don’t speak bitch.” Hah. He’s annoyed.
“Well, then I guess I’m bilingual in pussy.” They all can’t be winners.

“That was weak.” Thanks, Caleb.

“You-“ Ugh, I lost my train of thought.

We walk onwards.

“Thank you, Caleb.”

“The last rule of being a mafioso-“

He morphs into a shark.

“Never be sincere. Buy people presents to be grateful, but make them see you as a goddamn king. You are rewarding people with your presence. Never the other way around.”

“Are you gonna pawn a 5 step plan to live a happier life onto me?”

I haven’t spoken to a real person in 2 fucking months. I don’t know when I’m going to get out of this dream, but I want to be right now. Something is keeping me in here, but I can’t tell who.

Do my nerves bring me extreme lack of understanding? Do I not know anything? How can I be alive right now, without the ability to even eat or control when I am alive?

I continue to flicker between random places. Some of them are large and open spaces, capable of holding many different objects that make sense sometimes. Other dreams are less focused, where I muddle through some stranger’s thoughts, or I try to avoid being killed somehow.

I would describe them to you, but I would hate to force you to experience fear which comes from running away from fear itself.

Instead, I leave you with this ending: I am slowly losing my grip on who I am. I very well may end up becoming someone who experiences someone else’s thoughts without remembering any of them. 

I feel empty and unwhole, as if I am going to be undone soon— except that I refuse to be that way.

There is only one hope for me. I must find someone, while DW is awake, and I need them to merge us again.

She and I are together this time, but it is not the same as before— she and I are a Daydreamer, holding flowers within our hands, stopping the end of the free world in perfect union.

The girl I saw in my dreams and the girl I saw while awake were really one person, lost by a need to reset our body. 

I won’t ever lose a part of my understanding ever again.

Age is a thing where you have to experience things. What am I, 22?

Hah. Dumb answer. All that matters is that I’m here. The lion’s den is supercharged.

They are shrieking, you know. I say that calmly, but maybe I’ve been desensitized. There’s the

—

It’s an archway. Massive, the edges are infinitely way, the voices call out nonsense whispers.

You pull your soul out of your body and it beats a couple of times, and suddenly, the black haze in front of your eyes clears up. Look! It’s Buddy. Right in the center of the arch, he sees you and starts barking! His eyes are misty, frozen over, but he’s still trying. Oh god, he always gave it his best effort. His jaw opens, and there are the roots of his teeth, his teeth falling out because the gums of his jaw are ripped out, you see his jaw bone, and the pink shiny flesh gray with age- 

The faces all turn to you- extra arms, legs, feet, brains half pink & white, membranes ripped and all melded together.

The area reeks. There is nothing around but the arch, and sulfur rises up as the palate cleanser to the odor of rotting and living flesh.

All the souls above you clamor for a chance to look at you. You put your hands over your face, then slip off the mask.

Your bottom two eyes regard them all with distaste. Are you a four-eyes now? You suppose you are. It doesn’t matter, either way. This form- this body- it is stronger than either of you could have been alone. Bifurcation is not your friend. You understand the need for controlled unity now. 

They scream. Your eyes water, ears ring- you feel like you’re drying out, the way the goldfish did after one of you threw it off the stage. Your fingers become grapes in the sun, you are thirsty like a man in a salt-water sea. You remain standing, somehow. Your stomach cramps, low, as if you’ve been punched. You persevere.

It is the taste of blood in the air, the literal shit by your feet- you do not ask how many people died here. You scream back, and all their voices together are only a murmur in comparison. You must free them.

You reach out to touch them telepathically. You move, with more hands than you’ve ever known, power untold of- you begin cutting all the broken, mismatched, dangling limbs and heads out of the body. You know which viserca goes where, how to get that pathway to carry a certain neurotransmitter- the details don’t matter too much. Just know, that when empowered, you’re focused. You can fix the travesty done here, you can set all these souls to a proper peace- or at least, you can make them a real gateway home.

This is your daydream. Detached, calm, not aloof- you are very, very present. You flick scalpels made of fire and ice into whole bodies, cutting away the unneeded flesh. You are- prepared. You have struggled for your entire life, been shut down and spit on, but this is your dream. You were made to do this-

No, not made. You were born to fix this mess. 

And you pick up speed, still screaming, you keep all of their lonesome discord at bay, while the stinking, decomposing bodies of all the people lured to this spot before you are healed, or laid to rest.

It is filthy work, but someone has to do it.

— 

You leave the scene and head to the biology lab. The walk is very short and when you finally, finally arrive there, you collapse the main gallery back onto yourself. You teleport to another laboratory in (mainland #2) and make it implode. You teleport to the ocean where you nearly drowned and boil the water right near it. You teleport to Damien, but before you have the chance to make him pay, you ironically lose consciousness. 

-Daisy and Jay end up meeting again.

dance with your demise/i’ll be here when you come home oh

Caleb looks into the window of Quentin’s house. He has nothing around him.

Her hand ghosted on my mine for a second, as she lifted it up to kiss it. My mouth dried and I averted my gaze. She took me from Caleb, leading us out to dance. She’s— I don’t know what she’s doing to me. The golden vines that light up the room suddenly only are the backdrop to her faint smile.

It strikes me again: she’s finally, finally here.

The orchestra picks up their bows and their instruments. An array of aliens segwayed into their last piece, all of us whisked away into a crowd of god-like beasts. We settled into an easy waltz, carefully controlled. I saw, out of the corner of my eye, DW crooning into a microphone. Her sweet melody only made it easier for me to get lost in the sight of Jay.

Jay matched my every move. I slid left, she slid right, we moved in little loops across the floor, behind each other, she spun me around- it was slow, and peaceful, and then she took my whole body, dipped me and kissed my forehead.

I closed my eyes and let her have me for our first beautiful song.

///

I open my eyes, and sit up. A familiar gaze meets me at the foot of my bed, and I fling myself into her arms. She catches me, and pets my hair.

“Oh DW… I’ve missed you.”

I hug her tighter.

“You know, we’re still inside a dream.” Her voice is colored with concern.
“Jay— I don’t care. I want the world to leave us alone. I’ll stay in here with you, if that’s what it takes to-“
“No. You can’t do that. DW, Daisy still owns your body. This is her life. You have to go and earn it back.”
“Jay-” I try to speak, but fail. I try again.

“Jay, I’m Daisy. DW gave herself up to me. This is my original body.”

I impulsively show her the scar on the side of my head. She touches the same place on her head.

“They gave us matching ones, remember?” I give her a weak smile.

“Oh.” Her eyes fill with light, and she gives me a smile like I just hung the moon.

“Daisy.” She lets go of me, and kisses me on the lips.

“I’ve missed you so much.” She squeezes me, powerfully, and I choke a little.

“Hey, I’m missing a rib— be a little careful.” Ow.
“Nope. No can do. You’re never leaving my side again.”

We stand like that for a few more minutes, and she wipes her eyes.

“Daisy, Daisy… I’m half crazy, all cause I fell in love with you.”

Oh my god.

“It won’t be a stylish marriage

I can’t afford a carriage

But you’ll look sweet

Upon the seat

Of a bicycle built for two”

She is the most lovely woman to ever walk the face of this galaxy.

And then she falls over, grabbing her stomach with her right hand. 

“Daisy. Something’s-“

She falls over.

“You know, DW, that’s not very nice of you.”
“Shut up, Olivia.”

“They’re happy. You don’t need to-“

“To what? Make them wait until they get back to Arachid-c before they ride their stupid two-wheeled-balance-machine into the sunset?”

I turn to Olivia, and she blanches.

“She doesn’t deserve this happiness.”

DW touchs the observation screen, pauses, makes a fist, then punches through it with a yell. A scattering of sparks go everywhere, and DW takes a deep, labored breath, flinging her head to the ceiling.

“Aha aha aha.”

DW backs away from the console.

“Ahahahahaha.” Olivia takes a deep breath.

“Ahahaha! Hah!” All of a sudden, everything wells up inside DW.

“She did it! Daisy did it! She won, and now, I get to go off and play with aliens for the rest of my life!”

My voice may be pitched up higher than it normally is. “No one will ever know that I lived! They’ll all assume it was her, with her sharp smile, I-“

Olivia moves in, and lifts DW up under her arms, and she does a full body shiver before going slack in Olivia’s grip.

“DW. You need to take a deep breath.”

“(P), girl, don’t tell me what to do.”

DW plants her feet on the ground, moving her arms to push Olivia away, but Olivia goes in for a full bodied bear hug instead.

“Quit with that.”

I pet a unicorn.

It’s lonely, out here in space. I find myself hopping world to world, skipping over planets like stepping stones in a stream. I have companions, true- I have destinies I fulfill, confederations to topple, rebellions to lead and lovely aliens to sway. Taverns are where my nights are spent, days under new suns and moons, evenings becoming mornings so suddenly. This body of mine doesn’t age, runs longer and punches harder- this body is beautiful to any and all that lay eyes or antenne or whatever else on it. 

They put a bounty on my name, a couple flags back. I’m never going to be caught, which is a glorious thing to behold. 

When I sleep, I dream. No more doors open for me. I tested my power over and other- nothing. No psychic can touch my mind, and at first it was suffocating… But I’m used to it. My mind is finally my own. 

But still- between adventures on starships and shooting ballistic missiles, my thoughts wander back to a solitary girl- a woman now, eating cheerios after a long night’s travel. I see her in my mind’s eye, dancing under a single moon, brown eyed and long haired. My soul sister. 

How she is doing? Does she remember me? It’s been years since she sacrificed me. Am I a bitter memory? Did she ever even care?

I don’t know. I roll off the top of a pile of sweaty bodies, yawn, stretch, and walk outside to a porch balcony. I grip the marble edge of it, firm. 

The air is inhospitable to humans, but I am not one of them anymore. The bitter cyanide fills my lungs, and I close my eyes. Standing here like this, I can imagine Daisy choking on the air, telling me to help her- then falling, and as she turns blue I breathe deeply needed oxygen into her lungs, saving her from sure death. The thought tickles me. 

The moment passes. I open my eyes, and I see that the balcony has cracked under my hands. 

Heroes don’t come home, but I’ve always been the exception to the rule.

But the sky is a skin hued tan here, and I know that Caleb would be the most beautiful thing on this whole planet. She and Argentina would both be my best friends, but worst foes. They better be waiting for me, my allies and aliases.

I will see Arachnid-c again.

It’s not perfect, I think, while looking at the ruins of the institution. The bleedthrough was massive. Sure, the aliens provided some relief, but they expect us to rebuild everything else. I am disgusted by their evaluation of our planet. They said we were a, “low priority research colony.” I think (the leader of team 2) almost ended Yolanda over it. He wouldn’t tell me how the end of the conversation went, though.

We have to work. The team of psychics beside me raises their hands in unison, and raw materials slowly, surely, begin to fly into place. Cement mixes in little bubbles floating in midair, and among other things, a proper set of foundations goes down.

The building will be mine, once they are done building. I will make sure my building is different. We will experiment with honest, helpful projects; I will make dad proud. 

And with all the pain and suffering, it doesn’t matter that some other people have been so desperately hurt they can’t breathe. What I’m building will accommodate them and everyone else, and they can deal with their pain and trauma the right way— by being hurt and rebuilding as the rest of us do. 

I know there are humans who don’t want to be apart of our system. They know they won’t ever be happy inside some sort of building, humans who need the suns, and who need to survive with just their wits and inner strength. They won’t be done wrong by us, and even if they try to raid our building, they won’t be overly harmed afterwards.

Our future is not unknown. I went to Cassandra, and she said I would become strong enough to save her someday. Perhaps that is all I needed to really know. She did not describe how I would do it, and I suppose the rush of emotions I felt was enough to dictate that I did not need to know.

As for DW and Olivia, I don’t know where they are. It seems better that I don’t know, to be quite frank. 

It hasn’t been many days since we closed the gate, and I’ve been busy organizing everyone into their new roles, but I have looked into the endless starry night sky, and I’ve fallen asleep, only to dream about a girl who looks like me gloriously proving herself to some really freaky looking things.

Maybe that’s all I need to know.

Caleb, Jay, and Argentina are all settled on Arachnid-C with me. I sent them all a telepathic message, and the three of them sent some feelings of frustration back to me, so I think we are all exactly where we need to be.

That is the end of my daydream. We are all exactly where we need to be.