STORY: “Alejo, I need you to understand – the risk here is not to me.”
STORY: “If I make the wrong choice, the disaster will befall _you._ Your world.”
STORY: “I am trying to keep you safe.”
STORY: “Lose one to save the rest. It is a decision you are familiar with.”
STORY: Alejo, you turn over in the bed and adjust your pillow. The linen sheets are cool in the sunny bedroom and a breeze comes in from the beach, bringing with it the smell of salt air. You lay with your hand on your stomach, resisting waking up fully, and hear the padding of small feet as someone runs in and throws themselves on you.
STORY: “Papa!” A girl, no more than two, buries her face in your knees, hugging both legs. She looks up. “Some cheese?”
ALEJO: He smiles, surprised in all the best sorts of ways. “Cheese! Who can say no to cheese?”
ALEJO: He ruffles her hair.
STORY: She launches herself off the bed and runs out of the room.
ALEJO: He stretches and yawns, trying to remember where he is but feeling relaxed and refreshed.
STORY: Calixta comes in, barefoot in a slouchy linen shirt, hair down and heavily pregnant. She brings a coffee to your bedside table and sits down on the bed next to you, leaning in for a kiss. “Sorry, baby, I tried to let you sleep in.”
ALEJO: He looks at her, puzzled. “Sleep in?” He stands and looks out the window, down at a sweeping and mostly open beach. “What time is it?”
ALEJO: He turns back to her, familiar but not familiar at all.
STORY: “Computer, what time is it?”
STORY: A machine on the wall chirps. “It is nine fourteen am.”
STORY: She gestures to it. “Not so late, I guess.” She stands and heads into the kitchen.
ALEJO: He follows, without a shirt, taking it all in. “This isn’t right, is it?” He says this softly in her direction, but mostly to himself.
STORY: The kitchen is large and open, all tan and white tones. Floor to ceiling windows expose the beach on the other side of the house, utterly isolated. The palm trees swaying outside provide your soundtrack. Calixta stands at the stove. “Okay. Eggs?”
ALEJO: “Scrambled, please.” He moves into the room, sizing it up now, looking for flaws, breaks in the patterns. “Who are you? Full marks for a pregnant Cali. She always wanted to be pregnant.”
STORY: She smiles, and cracks an egg into a bowl. “Two or three? I apologize if the illusion was incomplete for you. Would you like to start again?”
ALEJO: “Three. I’m definitely hungry.” He smiles.
STORY: “Or perhaps a change?” She beats the eggs and becomes Akilah, nearly unrecognizable to you since she is smiling, none of her worries visible on her brow.
ALEJO: He laughs hard. “That’s amazing! But you must have very limited access to the depths of our recollections. I’m pretty confident Aki has never made eggs in her entire life.”
ALEJO: He looks around, curious. “This is beautiful, though. Remarkable details. Smells, colors, the warmth on my skin.”
ALEJO: He reaches out and spins this false Akilah around. He looks at her and cannot help but smile. “Who are you?”
STORY: She smiles back, keeping eye contact and seeming to enjoy herself. “Whoever you want.” She changes again, before your eyes. Millie slides her arms around you.
ALEJO: “If only,” he whispers but keeps eye contact. He reaches up and touches her cheek.
ALEJO: “You are incredible. Truly. But you don’t hold a candle, I’m afraid.”
ALEJO: He reaches around behind him, gently unclasps her hands, and eases back from her. “My crew. Where are they?”
STORY: Millie leans on the counter, still gazing at you. “Making their own choices.”
STORY: “Perhaps a different setting?” She reaches out and takes your hand. Before you register any change, you’re walking through a dark and busy street, neon lights above, steam and delicious smells from a thousand food stalls around you.
STORY: “Child?” One appears in her arms. “Or no.” It disappears again.
STORY: “I’ll admit you’re a challenge to understand.”
ALEJO: “Hard to play a player.” He shrugs.
ALEJO: “Why all the ruses? What are you hiding from?”
ALEJO: He takes her hand and walks along the street, savoring the smells and sights.
STORY: “No ruse, Alejo. I want you to be happy.”
ALEJO: He stops, pulls her close. He tilts his head and softly, almost kisses up her neck, then whispers in her ear. “If that’s true, tell me who you are.”
STORY: “I’m afraid that’s not part of the deal.” You look up and are transported again, now standing alone with Millie inside a sleek bridge full of sophisticated consoles and high-tech details. Millie settles onto a leather bench at the navigator’s station. “But anything else is on the table. Well, nearly. Every relationship should have boundaries.” The darkness of the black stretches out before you.
ALEJO: “So this is a relationship?”
ALEJO: “Feels more like a manipulation.”
STORY: Millie extends her hands, showing they are empty. “All right, all right. Let’s be up front. I want you to stay, and be happy. I can do rather a lot to ensure that. I can’t tell you who I am, but… you seem like a smart man. You’ve got the rest of time to figure it out.”
STORY: “Anywhere you want to go, anyone you want to see. Every experience you can imagine is here for you.”
ALEJO: He sits beside her. “It is a beautiful idea, Teka. But I can’t stay. You know that. And if you really wanted my happiness. Our happiness. You’d know that.”
ALEJO: “I believe you believe you want us happy. But for all these pretty illusions, I think that you’re deceiving yourself.”
STORY: She looks surprised. “Teka? Is that what you’re looking for?”
STORY: She nods. “I can do that.” Millie steps back, and you’re in a clearing in the woods on Nahar. Teka sits on a blanket, in a checkered dress, legs crossed, eating a sandwich that drips tomato juice down her chin.
STORY: Teka looks up at you. “You seem different.”
ALEJO: He kneels and then sits in front of her, on the corner of the blanket. “Do I? How so?”
STORY: She offers you the other half of her sandwich. It’s tomato and mayo. “Well, for one, you’re the weirdest looking dude I’ve ever seen.” She touches your cheek, exploring. “Why are you so pale?”
ALEJO: Alejo takes the sandwich and a bite. “Funny coming from little miss blue.” He sets the remaining half of the sandwich down and studies her.
STORY: She’s studying you back, staring at all the pieces of you without shame. She lifts one of your hands, looks at your palm, gets on her hands and knees to inspect your back and tug at your shirt. She sits back down, announcing to the sky, “I didn’t ask for this.”
STORY: It’s a calm declaration, like someone sending back food at a restaurant.
ALEJO: “Rude.” He smiles. “We’ve been looking for you, you know.”
ALEJO: “Do you know where you are?”
STORY: “Sure. I’m in the Weave. Wait, are you _real?“_
ALEJO: He extends the hand that she inspected. “Alejo Soto. Yeah. Real.”
ALEJO: “Pale and all.”
STORY: She takes it. “Huh. Yeah, I guess that makes sense, I would absolutely not have made you up.”
STORY: She takes another bite of her sandwich, uncrossing her legs and placing her feet on the blanket, leaning back on her elbows. “So are you traveling too?”
ALEJO: He ponder that question for a moment. “Yes. But not to the Weave, at least by choice. Actually, I’m here to find you.”
STORY: “Why?” Her face falls and she rolls her eyes. “Did my mom send you? She’s so _weird.“_
STORY: “I’m fine, tell her I’m fine and I’ll be done soon.”
ALEJO: “You’ve been in here quite a while, you know. Like . . . a real long time.”
ALEJO: “Do you not remember when you came?”
STORY: She finishes the sandwich and chews it, laying back fully on the blanket, resting her hands on her stomach and looking up at the trees. “Oh, I dunno, I guess it’s been a while. I’ve got a lot of exploring to do.”
ALEJO: He nods and leans back, his hands behind him, comfortable, enjoying the sun. “I get that. It’s an astonishing place.” He closes his eyes and feels the warmth for a long moment. The looks at her again. “Teka, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but something terrible happened. Out there. I think that’s why you’re here. Why you’ve been here for so long.”
STORY: She doesn’t answer, just keeps looking up at the sky. It isn’t entirely clear whether she heard you.
ALEJO: “I need your help. It’s not fair. None of it is. Out there, it’s not so tidy as here. But we both have things we love out there. And I need your help to get back to those things, those people. And your people need you.”
STORY: “Alejo.” Calixta is standing ten feet away, a sad look on her face.
ALEJO: “Hiya, Cali. ’Fraid I’m a bit busy right now.” Doesn’t look at the fantom.
ALEJO: He keeps his eyes fixed on Teka.
STORY: “Alejo, she can’t leave.” Calixta reaches out a hand.
STORY: “I’ll tell you what I can.”
STORY: “But you have to let her stay.”
ALEJO: He looks up, a hardness to him. “So, less relationship, less manipulation and more prison? Why can’t she leave, if she wants to?”
STORY: “She’s too far. I can’t take the risk.”
ALEJO: His face softens, a wave of almost recognition. He tilts his head. “How’d you get here?”
STORY: She smiles. “These questions are risks, Alejo. I can tell you whatever you want to know, but with every one I am less free to let you leave. Have you decided to stay?”
ALEJO: Alejo sighs. “My crew aren’t going to stay. And they will make things very violent. I . . . ” He pauses and considers. “I’m a man of violence too. But I would like a different path. For all of us. Questions are risks. Answers may be hope.”
ALEJO: He raises his eyebrows, a realization hitting him. “And believe it or not, I’m the most patient of us.”
STORY: “I know. Everyone else has already left their offers.”
ALEJO: He half shrugs and half nods. “Checks out. So, time is short.”
STORY: “Listen,” she says, and sits down at a picnic table that just appeared before her. “I have to mitigate the risk here. This is a delicate balance.”
ALEJO: He stands and sits across from her.
STORY: “You’re still cleared to leave, if you want to. Teka, she’s been here a long time. Veni, Griffin. I don’t know, Alejo. My role is not to see grey area here.”
STORY: “They’re risks.”
ALEJO: “I can appreciate trying to to manage a delicate balance. But if I’m going to be able to help — and I’d really like to,” he places his hands on the table, palms up, “I truly would. I need to understand more about these risks. Look, I get you can’t tell me everything. But, gods, before this becomes flames and death . . . ”
ALEJO: “Whoever you are. You care about Teka. And I want to believe you don’t want this for me or the others.”
ALEJO: –He’s using all the persuasive ability he has right now.
STORY: “You’re right, I’d very much like to let all of you return. But in the past, when we have tried to relieve individuals of the knowledge they gained here… it hasn’t gone well. Look. I’ve identified the risks, I have some wiggle room, maybe. I understand why you want your friends to return with you. What I don’t understand is why you’re here to begin with. Surely not just for her?” Calixta gestures to Teka, still lying on the ground.
ALEJO: “No, not just for her. We came to free the Grell. And honestly to stop a plague that is resulting in Nahar dying a pretty shitty death. I’m not going to pretend that I understand entirely what’s happening here. But, we didn’t come to harm anyone.”
STORY: “A plague?”
STORY: “Caused by what?”
ALEJO: He nods towards Teka. “We think.”
STORY: “Oh.” She looks at Teka. “Hm.”
STORY: “This is unprecedented.”
ALEJO: “So maybe it’s time to break some rules.” Alejo offers a hand. “Help me sort this all out before things happen that none of us can turn back, even in this place.”
STORY: Okay, let’s have a Face Adversity + Influence for the cumulative effect here
ALEJO: /roll 2d6+2
STORY: ablair01 rolled 7 + 2 = 9
ALEJO: –yes! Take that, Dicebot!
STORY: Calixta nods.
STORY: “I can make you very happy here, Alejo.”
STORY: “But if you must return to your crew, so be it. If you give me your word that you will not confer with Teka on this conversation afterwards, that you will tell her _nothing_ of what you learned here, or what you suspect, she can return with you. Or I can allow you to collect Veni and Griffin. I cannot risk all of their departures.”
STORY: “Trust me, you do not want to see an attempted clean up after the fact.”
ALEJO: “I appreciate the offer to stay. I have some things that I have to make up for before I’m happy anywhere, though. So I also appreciate getting to leave.”
ALEJO: “Why Tux? He’s just a human. Surely, if we can stay quiet, so can he?”
STORY: “He has… suspicions. His rumination on them will lead to dangerous ideas.”
ALEJO: “Fucking Tux,” Alejo mutters under his breath. “And if I give you my word that I will keep those dangerous ideas in check?”
STORY: “How can you promise such a thing? You do not control his mind.”
ALEJO: “No,” he agrees, “but I can put a bullet in his head.”
STORY: She nods. “All right. The responsibility falls to you, then.” She puts a hand over yours, gently. “You may come to regret this choice, Alejo.”
ALEJO: “What’s new.” He grimaces. “The Grell. They go free? And if I take Teka, you believe that this unprecedented . . . plague will stop?”
ALEJO: “And the rest of my crew goes free?”
STORY: “The grell are as free as they desire. All they need to is stay away, or not dig too deeply once they are here. Some have gone too far, and I cannot help them.”
ALEJO: He nods.
STORY: “I believe, yes, if Teka returns to consciousness, this should stop.”
STORY: “Your crew is already free.”
ALEJO: He puts his hand on top of hers, on top on his. “Thank you.” He sighs. “There’s no chance for Veni, is there?”
STORY: “Alejo, I need you to understand – the risk here is not to me.”
STORY: “If I make the wrong choice, the disaster will befall _you._ Your world.”
STORY: “I am trying to keep you safe.”
STORY: “Lose one to save the rest. It is a decision you are familiar with.”
ALEJO: He smiles weakly. “Gods, I wish you’d tell me who you are.”
ALEJO: “May I see Veni?”
ALEJO: “Prefer to shoot a guy in the head when he’s looking.”
STORY: She tilts her head. “On this side? Of course. But be careful. You have not yet left the Weave. The more you know, Alejo…”
ALEJO: He acknowledges this with a squeeze of her hand.
STORY: She nods, and stands. You get a bit dizzy at this next transition, and find yourself standing at the top of an enormous lecture hall, now empty save for Veni, standing at the front, writing on an enormous chalkboard.
STORY: Calixta stands next to you, her arms crossed. She gestures down to him.
ALEJO: Alejo raises his hand. Waiting for Veni to notice him in the lecture hall seat. “Hey, Prof?”
STORY: He looks up, surprised to see you. “Oh, it’s you. Hello.”
ALEJO: He walks down the stairs of the hall, towards Veni. “How you holding up?”
STORY: “Good, you know. Waiting for everyone. Have you found the others?”
STORY: He gestures to the empty seats. “They were filled, of course. I emptied them, too much temptation.”
STORY: “I never felt as comfortable here as my compatriots.”
ALEJO: He nods and swallows hard. “It is an amazing place.”
ALEJO: “Yeah, we’ve found the others.”
ALEJO: “And Teka.”
STORY: He smiles, nods. “Wonderful.”
STORY: He’s watching you carefully.
ALEJO: “And the Grell are free. I won’t stop until that abominable Nahar prison is stardust.”
STORY: He nods again. “But.”
ALEJO: He looks Veni squarely in the eyes. “But we’re not all going to make it outta here.”
STORY: Veni swallows, his heart dropping, but he nods and holds your eye. After some time nodding, he looks away, tears in his eyes. “All right. Yes. Of course.”
STORY: “Well.” He puts down the piece of chalk he was holding, then nervously picks it up again and turns back to the chalkboard. “I suppose I had better start welcoming back those students, then, shouldn’t I?”
ALEJO: “It’s not alright. And I’m sorry, for what that’s worth. You’re a real pain in the ass, but you have heart, Veni. And I respect the shit outta that.”
STORY: He turns back, a thought occurring to him. “Oh, please. Tell Teka…” He shakes his head, frowning.
STORY: “I suppose tell her I hope she is well. And that I will miss her.”
STORY: “And that I am sorry.”
ALEJO: He nods once. “Live the biggest, best life this place has to offer you, my friend.”
STORY: “I suppose I shall find out what that entails.” He reaches out a hand.
STORY: “Thank you for your help, Alejo.”
ALEJO: Alejo takes his hand.
STORY: “I do not know you well, my friend, but I hope you will grant an arrogant man one last piece of advice: do not be ashamed, or afraid, of the hero you can be.”
STORY: “We all have things we need to move beyond. So start.”
STORY: He smiles one last time, drops your hand, and goes back to writing on the board.
ALEJO: Alejo lingers, more choked up by this than he feels comfortable admitting. He then turns, heads up the stairs and nods to the fantom. “One last question, if you’ll permit: how do we deal with the Grell outside of this place who have . . . gone too far?”
STORY: “Their minds are gone. Kill them.”
STORY: She gives you a kiss on the cheek. “And good luck, Alejo Soto. I hope we do not meet again.”
STORY: The door behind her has that wet mirror look to it.
ALEJO: “Maybe in another life.” He smiles, shakes his head, looks around one more time, and then runs at the mirror, readying himself for action.
—
STORY: Elia lay on the table, wincing as the priest tapped, tapped, tapped with the pin, dripping the ink in as he cut tiny channels in her face. She sung a prayer quietly, doing her best not to show pain. Kahn, watching her, locked his knees, heard a sound like waves as he realized blood was rushing to his head, and the world dimmed around him. He gasped for air, gulping a few huge breaths and looking at the roof of the low hut. When he looked back down, Elia was smiling, wiping her face, and standing up off the table. The fresh blood writing formed beautiful treelike patterns across her brow, cheeks, and chin. The priest turned to Kahn and smiled, gesturing for him to sit. He would soon be a man.
STORY: He turned and ran.