The
twentieth fall had arrived, and the leaves on the trees of the forest were just
taking on their new colors for the season.
L’lorne was once fascinated by it, but now took it to be yet another
minor element in what was the whole of the universe, one barely worth
noting. To her, the world was
explainable, from the greatest of mountains, to the smallest of insects. One thing, however, had eluded her in these
last twenty years; knowledge of herself.
Instead of
watching the leaves turn red, gold and brown, and predicting which tree would
go first and when, she sat in her small study room and looked at her hand. The small table she sat at was completely
surrounded by a sea of books, with only the smallest of possible paths clear
from the doorway to her seat at the table.
The window that she once looked out of to see the geysers and the trees
stayed open, letting in the slowly cooling breeze, but she faced away from it,
concentrating on her hand like it was the only thing in the world.
With her
free hand, she adjusted the glasses he had given her now so long ago. Through it she could zoom in and out, change
light wavelengths and even peel back the layers of anything, including her
hand, and she was busy with this task now.
Notes flew up into a secondary screen behind the lenses without a word
from her, her mind working faster than any verbal command could, and she found
the entire task fascinating.
He hadn't
taught her anatomy, for reasons she did not yet understand, but she knew enough
about biology and chemistry to be able to figure out the details for
herself. The glasses helped highlight
anything she wanted to see. A quick zoom
and she could study the surface of her fingers, the ridges of her fingerprint
and how they twisted and looped back on each other. At this magnification they looked like the
ridges of an alien landscape, and the look fascinated her.. Another zoom and she could see the hairs and
pits where glands emptied their product onto the back of her hand. Even closer, she could watch as helpful
bacteria ate away at dirt and dead cells, one piece at a time.
Underneath
the skin, she watched as the muscles contracted and relaxed as her hand opened
and closed. The ligaments and tendons
moved as well, creating the complex dance that allowed her to move each finger
and thumb with accuracy and precision.
The bones, they lay beneath the muscles, scared her in a way that was
deeply instinctive, ancient and hard to resist.
Still she stared at them watched as the cartilage between the finger
bones compressed as she moved and the tendons pull against the bones at the
direction of the muscles.
Everything
returned, then fell away again leaving only the nerves and blood vessels in
their place. The effect was strange,
causing her to wonder if this thing, this bundle of hoses and chains were
actually part of her body and not someone else's, or something else's. A zoom to the nerves showed them releasing
chemical batches to transmit their signals, traversing down the line to the
tips of her fingers and back. The blood
in her veins slowly made its way back down her arm and into her chest, while
the arteries carried blood flush with oxygen up to her hand.
Cells of
all sizes and shapes traveled through the blood, and dancing amongst the
chemical fluid that formed the bulk of her blood. Small red donuts of cells move the oxygen,
while larger white cells spent their time cleaning up germs and dead cells Closer she dove, and until she could see the
individual molecules, their chains long, impossibly long, and dense moving
slowly in a matrix of other molecules which she peeled away to see the others
better. Oxygen began to move, detaching
from the iron atom in the hemoglobin and pass out of the blood cells and into
the proper cells of her body, passing through molecule sized holes, far too
small for anything else to traverse the distance.
Inside the
cell, she could, even with the scene set as a mass of molecules, watch as
oxygen and sugars combining through a string of chemical reactions and released
energy and carbon dioxide in the mitochondria..
She followed the passing chain of chemicals back to the nucleus of her
cells that defined her as a living being.
She studied it, reading the four chemical alphabet as easily as any of
the books scattered about her study room.
She found the section that gave her the long black hair she so carefully
cared for, another for her dark brown eyes and yet another for her dark skin,
all connected, intertwined and as descriptive as any picture.
She stopped
on one section though and gasped at what it said. A reference call and she confirmed it, and
gasped again, almost despite herself.
Calculations now began to run, the chemistry of life dissected and
interpreted in detail. Congenital
disposition, lifestyle choices, known diet, weather conditions, each crack
revealed a potential for failure, and the odds grew worse with each additional
variable. Her dark skin grew white with
the answer, and she tossed her glasses aside and leapt over the table and into
the room where he was sitting.
"We
have to go," she said quickly. He
blinked at her, but she responded before he could ask for a clarification. "My mother is dying."
He
nodded. "Yes, let's get
going."
---------
Sunset was
about an hour away. Since this trip
started, Deborah could easily make it to that important part of the day, and
often then some. This time, however, she
groaned as the time came up on the sunglasses.
Her legs were sore, her body weak, and her stomach made a nasty gurgle
sound. All she could think of was sleep
and breakfast. Specifically missing
breakfast.
She and L’lorne
had every intention of joining the farmer and his wife for an early morning
breakfast. Eggs were assured, probably
toast, ham and bacon, fresh milk, all were going to be made available, or so L’lorne
had said. Unfortunately, as they got to
the barn entrance, another military truck showed up, carrying even more
soldiers than the first and asking much the same questions.
Deborah
suggested they fight it out, or at least scare these guys off as L’lorne had
done the night before, but the dark haired woman decided against it. "Odds are good they're going to search
this whole place, probably bring in bigger weapons and maybe even hurt the
Fiestiens." With that they left,
moving faster than any other day, using back roads instead of the main ones
they had been walking along before, all to avoid detection and get to their
destination that much sooner.
The map
came up and Deborah studied it for a moment with weak eyes. Too far, much too far. Not really, truly too far, maybe another
couple of hours, but too far for right now.
With that, the girl simply stopped and stood quite still.
L’lorne
stopped a short distance later, once she realized that her companion was no
longer with her. "You okay?"
"I
can't make it any more," Deborah wobbled where she stood, afraid to sit
down as she wasn't so sure she could get up, and equally afraid to try to step
forward and end up face down in the gravel of the street. "I'm too hungry, too tired."
"I
see." L’lorne turned and looked to
the horizon ahead of them for a brief moment.
"I think there's a place we can eat just up the road here. Think you could make it?"
"How
far?"
"Five
minutes or so."
Deborah
removed her glasses and thrust them into her pocket so she could think. They seemed almost out of control sometimes,
and when she asked how far, they began flashing up distances, times and
descriptions, none of which she wanted to take in at the moment. Her eyes closed, she took a deep breath, and
started to move again. Less than five
minutes of moderate agony later, they slipped through the doors of a diner that
had appeared from behind a clutch of trees.
The booth
seat, some cheap vinyl knockoff, felt wonderful as she only partially sunk into
the stiff foam. Most of that wonderful
feeling centered on her legs as they panted from exhaustion. The waiter, an old man who looked like he had
worked the booths and the counter of the diner since time began, greeted them
and laid out a pair of menus for them to look over. He then hurried off to get a soda and an ice
tea for the both of them.
Deborah
flipped open the menu and studied it for a bit.
This was probably the first time since they left home that she looked at
anything to eat aside from the breakfast menu.
It was also the first time she was hungry enough to actually eat the menu. Her whole body felt hungry, not just normal,
tired hungry, but angry hungry, so angry that it actually was on the verge of
making her scream out her order at the old man.
She managed to hold it back long enough, though, and he called out the
order to the blond that was working in the back, a hair net tied tightly around
her head.
With a
shaking hand, she pulled her soda close and took a deep swig. L’lorne poured a pack of sugar into her tea
and began stirring it slowly with a spoon.
"Didn't you want to eat anything?"
"I'll
eat enough," L’lorne said, still stirring.
"Yeah,
well maybe you should tell the waiter."
Deborah paused for another sip.
"You know, I don't think I've seen you eat anything yet."
"Want
to know a secret? I've been sneaking bits
of your food while you were busy eating."
Deborah looked at her, trying to remember it happening, but couldn't
come up with an image. "You don't
think you really ate all that on your own, did you?"
"Well
I. . ."
"Here's
the first plate," the old man said, setting down a burger and fries. "I'll be back with more in a bit."
Deborah
didn't wait and dove into the hamburger.
In moments it was gone, and the fries were following at an alarming
rate. With the plate cleared another, a
steak of some kind with a baked potato, arrived and the eating began again,
only slower this time, more deliberate.
The angry hunger was gone, replaced with normal hunger, though her body
was still a bit in pain.
Still, it
was enough and she could finally look about the diner while she ate. L’lorne continued to stir her tea, and looked
up at her with a smile. Beyond her, the
door had opened and a rather large man and an elderly woman with a walker came
entered. It didn't take long for the
woman to be revealed as the man's mother, and they slowly made their way to a
booth on the far side of the diner. At
the counter, a young brunette was chatting up a young man who was probably
about the same age while drinking a small soda and picking at a plate of fries.
All of this
was quite normal, and Deborah turned back to her food without really thinking
about it again. It was then that she
thought about it, despite her own desire not to, and shot up to examine the
scene again. The fat man sat across from
his mother while the waiter folded up the walker and put it aside. The brunette seemed to lose interest in the
guy and turned back to her plate to finish her fries while he called for a
check. The blond in the back yelled out
another order for the waiter to pick up then turned back to her grill.
Deborah
swallowed a bit of steak and then let her mouth open a bit. This couldn't be real, could it? No, it was a mistake, some kind of mistake,
some weird, otherworldly kind of mistake.
If she was right, but how could she be right? It wasn't right, it couldn't be right, it
wasn't right, wasn't it? L’lorne smiled
again. "Something wrong?"
"They're
the same," the words sort of just fell from her mouth. "They're all the same."
"Ah,
yes."
Deborah's
astonishing announcement had suddenly been cut short, and she blinked in a new
form of astonishment. "'Ah,
yes.' Is that all you can say is 'ah,
yes?'"
"What
else would you like me to say?"
"I
don't know, tell me I'm crazy might be nice."
"I would," L’lorne
said. "But that's not true."
Deborah
could say nothing, her breath had been forcibly removed from her lungs, and her
fork, still with a bit of steak on it, fell with a clink to the plate
below. "You mean, they are the
same?"
"More
or less, yes."
"More
or less?" Deborah nearly yelled it
out, startling the brunette and the guy at the counter. They turned back to Deborah and L’lorne's
booth and stared for a bit, almost forcing Deborah back down under the table
with their stare.
When they
turned back, L’lorne finally answered in a calm, even voice. "Well, their personalities are a little
different each time, and the positions are switched up to keep things
interesting, but they're basically the same every time."
Deborah sat
up and carefully picked up the fork, staring at the walls of the diner, the
booths and the tables. "And the
diner is repeated too, isn't it? Same
look, different colors?"
"Pretty
much."
"How?"
L’lorne
chuckled that absolutely annoying chuckle of hers. "Well, I can show you a little, but it
all depends on whether you're done eating or not."
The thought
of dropping the fork and going for it crossed Deborah's mind, but her stomach
protested, as did the rest of her, and soon she was eating again. The meal was gone quickly and they left, L’lorne
leaving a healthy sum of cred chips on the table.
They stood
outside, just a bit away from the front of the old diner which looked like some
sort of old bus or something.
Streamlined and silver, Deborah could watch as the people moved about
inside its structure, carrying about their day.
"So, what are you going to show me exactly?"
"What
I do with it after we leave," L’lorne bent her knees into a crouch at
about eye level with Deborah.
"Well, basically at least."
She held her hand up, fingers and thumb forming a sideways U, which she
hooked around the end of the diner. With
Deborah looking straight at the diner, L’lorne picked it up off the ground.
Deborah
fell back a bit as L’lorne began turning the uprooted diner in her hand like it
was a toy. A toy, that's exactly what it
looked and felt like now. She placed it
into her palm, letting it lie there for a moment. A single pass of her hand and the diner's
size dropped by half, another dropped it again until it was the size of a small
toy car which she held out to Deborah innocently. "Here, it won't break."
It was so
small, so detailed, and Deborah took her time examining it, staring into the
windows that were now cold and empty.
She looked back to the lot where it had once sat and saw nothing but
grass and trash. "That's
incredible."
"Not
really," L’lorne corrected.
"But it is handy. Fits
nicely in my pocket that way."
"What
about the people?"
"They
get stored separately. No reason to
leave them in the diner after all."
Deborah
turned from her studies and looked right at L’lorne as the woman stood straight
up. "Why?"
"They're
only active when we're inside as it is.
Not real enough to bother letting them settle into a permanent home or
anything."
"Not
real enough?"
L’lorne
smiled. "They're just puppets, fake
people. No substance to them or
anything."
Deborah's
mind could only recall the fat man escorting the old lady to the table, staying
close to her, encouraging her to keep moving, helping her like mother and
son. "But what about their lives,
their memories? Aren't they real?"
"Nope,
not at all. Just old ghosts from a time
long, long ago when I originally created them.
They're not any more real than a stuffed animal."
Chills, for
some reason, rippled up Deborah's back, forcing her to hand the diner to L’lorne. "You mean they were real once?"
"No,
they're just based on real people. The
real ones have been dead for so long history doesn't even record their
passing." That sent another chill,
a colder chill, through Deborah as a certain tone, heretofore unheard seemed to
come from L’lorne. So indescribable was
it that Deborah tried to write it off, but could not. "Anyway, when we get close to where we
can stop," she fitted the diner against her thumb and over the top of her
finger. "I send it
ahead." With a flick, the diner
suddenly flashed back into existence in the lot.
"And
that's it?" L’lorne nodded. "Don't people notice?"
"They
can't see it. I mask it just like I hid
the fact that you're just a kid. All
very simple."
"Doesn't
sound like it."
"It
is. Now, let's get going, the Asylum is
only a couple hours away."
Deborah
nodded and as they marched away, she looked back to see the diner disappear
once again, but she couldn't follow any path or anything, it was just gone,
probably into L’lorne's pocket.
---------
Questions
1. What kind of person is Lcorn Llorne? What does she look like (in your mind)?
2. What kind of person is the Deborah Ignigus? What does she look like (in your mind)?
3. Does the setting seem fitting? Would you like to know more?
4. Did you notice everything I built up for the diner before it got to this point?
