| Terquem |
Waiting
©2012 DH Austin
A NaNoWriMo Pathfinder Forums novel
Three individuals are telling the same story, or are they? They are, a Goblin warrior, left to die after a failed raid on a farm, the pilot of an interstellar transport ship that has become lost in the Aetherspace, and an unemployed recent graduate on the evening before a very important interview.
Part 1
I am cut but the bleeding has stopped. There weren’t supposed to be that many humans defending that farm. At least, ha ha, funny, at least I didn’t die at the farm. They eat Goblins. That’s what I’ve been told. And the cut isn’t so bad. I know that I lost a lot of blood, and if running away from the disaster of the raid caused me to lose more blood than I can afford to lose, then it’s just another one of my stupid mistakes. I’ve made a few. But they won’t find me here. And I can die, if I do, in this place. At least it’s warm, and dark.
I know that if I could look outside I would not see a thing. Not because there is nothing to see, but because, as all of the scientific research has told, my eyes are not able to process what the Aetherspace is made up of. I’ve piloted ships through the Aetherspace five times, on my own, and twice, with a larger crew. It usually never goes wrong. There is a simple principle involved, you learn the basic in your first year, and if you are smart enough you learn the details in the three years that follow. Or, if you are like me, they keep you in the program because you do what you are told even if you don’t understand all the science. It’s something like this: A ship (or any object with a gravitational signature) must have a constant velocity before it can enter Aetherspace. Something as small as the gravitational pull of a nearby star can affect your velocity, so a pilot’s first talent is manipulating the engines and on board compensators to achieve a constant velocity, this I can do. Second you have to reduce the gravity signature of the mass you want to push into the Aetherspace to zero. The computer takes care of that. Then, it’s just a matter of making sure you are pointed in the right direction. When the gravity signature is zero, and velocity is constant you make the slide. The computer calculates the time you need to stay in the Aetherspace, and when the time is up, you adjust the gravity signature to exit, and you are where you want to be. There are a few things that can go wrong in Aetherspace. If your velocity changes it can affect the time you need to stay, usually this isn’t a serious problem, but it can be. If your gravity signature drifts away from zero, you pop out whether you want to or not, but again this isn’t always a bad thing. You keep some fuel in reserve incase this happens, recalculate the path, and try to slide back in again. Now the worst thing that can happen is to have your velocity change, with an angular component. See if this happens, you will come out of the Aetherspace in the wrong place. And I don’t mean in the wrong part of space, but more than likely the wrong space entirely. There are stories of ships that have made this mistake. They are never found. A few hours ago, when I wasn’t paying attention, and because I didn’t do the pre Jump check list completely, the port waste processor started up in automatic, over pressurized the number four vessel, and vented for three seconds. The ship is now pointed in the wrong direction. It isn’t the first mistake I’ve ever made, but it is probably going to be my last.
“Why don’t you just try to read a book? That always makes me fall asleep,” Sandy told me on the phone.
“That doesn’t work for me,” I said.
“Have you tried reading the three-point-oh Player’s Handbook? That could put anybody to sleep.”
“Very funny,” I said. “But you might be right. So can you have lunch at Barnes and Noble tomorrow?”
“I should be able to,” she said. “If I’m not there, then lunch is on me, haha.”
“You’re a riot, good night, Sandy.”
“It’s only an interview,” she said, “you’ll be great.”
“Thanks,” I said, and then looked at the phone until I saw that she had ended the call.
I was already in bed. I was nervous about the interview. I’ve had a few interviews, but nothing has turned up, so far. I don’t know if it is because there are a lot of people looking for jobs, or if it’s because I made too many mistakes in the interviews. I don’t think I made that many mistakes.
I’ve always made mistakes.
I’ve tried not to make mistakes.
What?
What?
Can you hear me?
I’ve heard that you hear voices of your dead ancestors when you die.
I’ve been told that prolonged exposure to the Aetherspace can cause dementia.
Am I losing my mind?
Your mind?
My mind?
Can you hear me?
Can you hear me?
Who is this?
My name is Kaericci.
My name is Rebecca.
My name is Donald.
Who are you?
I’ve got to get up. There are voices in my mind. It is making my heart race and my hands tremble. The apartment is dark, except for a soft blue glow coming in through the kitchen window from the street light on the street behind the building. I know I’m nervous about tomorrow, but voices. I’ve never been this afraid.
No, your voice is in my head. I don’t need to get up. If I get up they might find me.
There is no way anyone can find me. Aetherspace is immeasurable, and you don’t move, if you know what’s good for you, while you are in here. So no one is going to find me. God, no one is going to find me.
“Hey, are you guys alright?” What the hell am I doing? I just asked a disembodied voice I’m hearing in my head if it is alright. And I asked out loud. “And what’s Aetherspace? Hey, you sound really scared.” Why am I still talking?
If you said something out loud, then I know you are not me. I didn’t hear you. I’m not scared. Not really. I am probably going to die. It’s alright though. Are you one of my ancestors. Is Aetherspace the Grassy Fields?
What?
What?
Hold on. My name is Donald. Can you hear my thoughts?
My name is Rebecca. Yes, I can hear you, Donald. Who is the other one again?
My name is Kaericci. If you are my ancestors, you have funny names, for goblins.
I am not a goblin.
Neither am I.
Than who are you. Are you demons?
I’m going to try to get out of bed. I think this is a bad dream, so, if I wake up, well, it was nice meeting you, Rebecca and kaericci.
I wish this were a bad dream. Good luck, Donald.
What is a dream?
What?
When I’ve had bad dreams before, really bad ones, there is always this feeling like something is holding me down, and even when it seems like I’ve woke up, and walked across the room to turn on the light, I know I’m still dreaming. I don’t have that feeling. The light turns on. I’m awake. I’m not dreaming.
Thanks for that description, Donald. It’s like you’re telling me a story. It helps, sort of.
What?
You two are funny.
So, you both can hear everything I’m thinking.
Yes.
Yes.
I have an interview tomorrow. I’m kind of nervous.
My ship is lost in the Aetherspace. I guess you could say, I am a little nervous myself, haha.
What is nervous? You two say very strange things. I was cut, and I was bleeding, a lot. But I’m okay now. I’m going to die.
You’re dying?
What?
Yes. I think. When you are dying you get tired, and you aren’t hungry. That’s what my brother told me. He has seen a lot of our people die. He is a leader, not a chief, but he is dead now. He was killed by an arrow. I was cut by a sickle. The farmers have more things that make good weapons than you can shake a stick at.
Did you say you are a Goblin? Like a fantasy story kind of Goblin? I used to play games with a lot of Goblins. You are a real Goblin?
Of course Goblins are real. Donald, it’s me, Rebecca. Where are you? What system is your planet in?
My planet?
Okay, so then you don’t have ships that travel through space where you are?
We’ve been to the moon.
You’ve been to the moon? Which one Pamidia or Goliai?
What?
Pamidia or Goliai? The big moon or the small moon?
We only have one moon.
There are over three thousands inhabited worlds in my universe. Where I am right now, because I’ve made a mistake, my ship is outside of the normal universe, and there is very little chance I’ll ever make it back to where I belong. Donald, Kaericci, it may be that your worlds are part of my universe, that we are all from the same reality, the same dimension, but from what I know about Aetherspace, that doesn’t have to be true, although I’ve never heard any stories about people being able to talk to other people across the Aetherspace. And I’m not wearing a translator, so that I understand you both, in my head, is a little bit of a puzzle as well. Or it could be that I am just losing my mind.
Is this what it is like to lose my mind?
What is a mind?
Kaericci?
Yes.
This is Donald. You don’t know what a mind is?
I understand what you two are saying. But some of the words are strange. I know who I am. I know what I sound like when I talk to myself. I think I understand the words you are using, but it’s, it’s. Well, it’s like I am learning them for the first time, but I understand them, even though I don’t think I’ve ever used them before. Is mind, me?
Yes, sort of. Your mind is who you think you are. I’m Donald, and my mind is obviously falling to pieces.
I’m Kaericci. My mind is Kaericci, and it is in one piece. Wait, let me check. I feel around my head and body. No, everything is still together.
Ha ha.
Ha ha.
So not only can we hear each other’s thoughts, but when we think about what is going on, what we are experiencing, the others hear our thoughts like a story. It’s like I’m telling a story, to you.
Yes, it is like a story. Chief Kunuoarri tells wonderful stories.
Yes, I agree it is like someone is telling a story. But whose story is being told?
That’s a good question?
I was waiting, worried about tomorrow, and then I began to hear your voices. I guess I’m supposed to hear your stories.
I was waiting to die. Well, not really. I mean I wasn’t really waiting for it to happen. I just felt that it was going to happen soon, and I was oaky with that. He he, okay, that’s a funny word, but I like how it is used.
And I was not really waiting, I mean, yes I sort of was, but I wasn’t thinking about it. My ship is lost in the Aetherspace, so the only chance I have is to adjust my ships gravity signature, and velocity, and then I will leave Aetherspace, but I don’t know where I’ll be. I might be back in my own universe, millions of miles from where I’m supposed to be, or I could be in another universe. I’ve read that that can happen. I could end up in a universe that is hostile to me, to my ship, and then, I suppose, I could die. So, I guess I am waiting, waiting on myself I suppose.
But I’m not worried about dying. It’s just an interview, for a job. I’m nervous, but, well, I’m waiting, so we all have that in common, but how come you both are in life or death situations, and I’m just waiting for an interview.
That’s a good question.
What’s an interview?
I’m going to try to post two thousand words to this story every day. If I can do that, then I will submit this story to NaNoWriMo.
| Terquem |
Waiting
©2012 DH Austin
A NaNoWriMo Pathfinder Forums novel
please keep in mind that these contributions, like everything I post, are first drafts, and may not follow very well, but I try
day 2, word count 3643
Part 2
Donald, tell me about your interview.
Why is this happening?
I’m tired.
Kaericci, maybe you aren’t going to die. Rebecca, I hope you both don’t die. This is a funny dream.
Why do you think it’s a dream?
This doesn’t happen, normally, I mean, people don’t hear voices, and then believe everything is normal with that.
It’s a kind of magic. My mother, she does magic for our village, and she can send whispers through the air. It isn’t so strange, to me anyway. What is an interview? Is it like a challenge? Among my people, when someone wants to do someone else’s job, they fight. You really aren’t supposed to try to kill each other, but it happens. So you are going to fight someone tomorrow to get a job, is that right?
No, no. Kaericci, where I am, there isn’t anything like magic, and I bet Rebecca would say the same thing.
No, Donald, that’s not the case. There are worlds where magic, well, I suppose the kinds of things that Kaericci is used to that are called magic, are real. And there is probably a valid argument that your world has magic, you just don’t know about it. What are your worlds called, Donald, Kaericci.
My world is called Earth.
We call the world, Ith, but others, like the Dwarves and the Humans, call it Riom.
Do you know these worlds, Rebecca?
No, and I’m looking them up in my ships database, but none of those names are coming up, but that doesn’t mean much. There are a lot of worlds that are not listed, in the database, for a lot of reasons.
Donald, are you human?
Well, yes, are you, Rebecca?
Well, this might not translate well, but yes, sort of. I am from a world called, Naloria, so I’m a Nalorian, which is in the Human range of genetic classes. I am a 13 D, which includes, Vasg, Hooraul, and Caumus. These are all planets with…
Stop it! Stop it!
Donald, I’m sorry, are you all right?
It’s quiet for a while. I look around the bedroom and try to tell myself that it’s just a dream. The clock near the bed is reading, one thirty in the morning. I tell myself that it’s Tuesday, I have an interview at eleven. I don’t want the voices to come back and I can’t believe how hard it is to breathe. I don’t understand why or how this is happening, but it is starting to give me a headache.
I don’t know if I want to go ahead and die, now. Donald is mad. Mad at me and the other one, but it isn’t like we meant to make him angry. He said he is human, and I don’t want him to think that because I attacked the farm that that means I hate all humans. That’s not true at all. We’ve traded with humans before, and even had them stay in our village when the river flooded. But we needed food. And the farm has more than it needs. We asked for some food, but the shot arrows at us. We only attacked because we had to, and that’s the truth.
I should try to sleep, myself. The one calling himself Donald, is frustrated and I think he may be on a world with a very low technology standard. I listen to Kaericci talk about her story, and I like the way she sounds. Her voice is mellow and very pleasant to hear. It’s been four days since I entered the Aetherspace, four out of a planned nine, so the truth is there isn’t any reason for me to panic, right now. I’ve slept, read a bit of the book Jeremy gave me, and played a few games. I never studied the Aetherspace the way Jeremy did, or the way I should have, but I remember, in training, they went over a whole lot of abnormal events that are associated with the Aetherspace, sightings of ghost ships, strange creatures, and a few others that I don’t remember the details of. And then there is the White Star. And I’ve thought about trying to contact the White Star. It is part myth, but mostly everyone believes it is true. There is that option. I could try, and then, then that would be it for me.
How can I be hearing what they think? I don’t think, at least I don’t think the words, “I’m looking around the bedroom,” but I bet that is what you two heard.
So you want to talk to us now, Donald. I was going to try and leave you alone, if it was bothering you.
This is fun.
Kaericci, why do you think this is fun? And yes, Rebecca, whoever you are. I can’t stop from hearing you describe everything that is happening to you. And I know I’m not describing what is happening to me, but I’m betting that you are hearing my voice as if I am.
Yes, it is a lot of fun.
Yes, there is something peculiar.
Sorry.
I’m sorry, you go first Kaericci.
Donald, it’s fun because it is making me feel better. And things that make you feel better are fun, aren’t they? Is that different where you are? It’s very quiet where I am. I wish I could go home, but I’m too tired to walk, and my home is hours away from here. Hours? What a funny word. What a funny concept. Time! I understand time. My father once tried to explain the concept of time to me, but he gave up. Now, because I am sharing my mind with you I understand time. Oh, this is marvelously fun. Hey, isn’t marvelously a funny word. Donald, a while ago I imagined, that’s another funny word, funny concept, that Rebecca was telling me a story about her situation, and when she mentioned that a number of days had passed, I understood that. I understood what that meant. Donald, I’ve never really understood, before now, what that meant. The longer we share our stories, the more I understand. Isn’t that something special? Do you understand new things, Donald.
No I don’t feel like I suddenly understand anything new. Time, space travel, fantasy monsters and things like this are all part of the stories I’ve read before, so they don’t seem new to me.
Can I go now, Kaericci?
Yes, please do.
Donald, when you mentioned that you weren’t thinking the description, in words, of what you were doing, and that you were hearing my voice describe my own thoughts I started thinking, that is very strange, because I read a lot of books too. What we are hearing is definitely a story. I’m hearing your story, and Kaericci’s, but I’m not hearing mine. I mean, right now, I am thinking, not talking out loud, but I am thinking to myself as if I am talking to someone, but if I stop and just think about what is going on, I don’t hear a story, like, wait let me try something.
I stop talking to Donald and also concentrate on not saying anything to Kaericci. I climb out of the pilot’s chair and leave the pilot house, the small room near the forward sensor bay, and walk slowly through the central part of the ship. I’m going to go to the main computer terminal, and see if there is anything in the database that has been recorded that would explain what is going on.
Donald, did you hear anything?
Well, yeah, you were telling me what you were doing.
I stop in the hall, and freeze. For the first time I’m feeling frightened. There is no explanation for how he could hear me telling a story, when I know I am concentrating on not thinking in words.
That’s what I’m talking about. So when I’m just sitting here, not talking, in my head, to two people I don’t really know are real, just sitting here thinking about getting up, getting something to eat, or going to the bathroom, you aren’t hearing my thoughts. You are hearing a story about my thoughts.
So what did you hear?
Rebecca, this is Kearicci. Don’t be afraid, it’s only a story.
So do you both hear the same thing?
I don’t know. I heard you describe walking, and then being afraid.
Yes, I heard the same thing.
It doesn’t frighten you, Kaericci.? Do you understand what is going on? It’s complicated. And I don’t even know that I can explain it, but the difference is subtle.
Subtle? No. Haha, I am learning so many new and interesting words. It isn’t subtle. It’s just a story. Don’t your people tell stories?
Kearicci, I’m not trying to tell a story. I mean, I’m just living, like you, and Rebecca. It’s not a story. It’s what is really happening.
Everything is a story. Not every story gets told.
But this is different.
| Terquem |
Waiting
©2012 DH Austin
A NaNoWriMo Pathfinder Forums novel
day 3 word count 5031
Part 3
Yes, Rebecca. It is different. I can’t put my finger on it, but there is something different.
I leave the bedroom and go into the living room. My lap top is still sitting on the couch, plugged into the wall, and the HDMI cable is still plugged into my television. I had watched an episode of Red Dwarf from a pirated DVD a friend gave me yesterday afternoon. I don’t really know what I’m going to do, but I have an idea that there is something I could find out if I look up story telling on the internet.
You have a whole house to yourself? I don’t know if that is a good thing or a bad thing. Donald, does my voice in your head sound different from your own voice? Is it different from Rebecca’s? I’ve never heard another person’s voice in my head, unless they were talking to me. And, well, this is hard to describe, but when I talk to myself it isn’t hearing, exactly, it’s more that I am knowing the words I am saying to myself. Does that make sense? I’ve never really thought about it before.
Yes, and that’s why I was thinking I was losing my mind. I still think I am. I know what you mean, Kaericci. I just never thought about it myself. I don’t hear the sound of my voice, when I talk in my head either, but now that I am hearing you, and Rebecca, and yes, you each have a different voice, I recognize the sound of my own voice in my head. It’s my voice, but it is a little strange to me. I think it’s strange because, it’s never been different from anything else I hear when I’m alone.
This is definitely different, and strange. Donald, when you are hearing Kaericci tell her story, or talk to you, do you hear me? Do our voices overlap?
Sometimes.
Sometimes.
So could we all try to talk at the same time?
Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
I don’t want to tell my story over theirs, because I think they have wonderful stories, but I don’t know how I am supposed to do that. And what kind of story could I tell about me? My life is not a story. My life is a story that isn’t going to be told.
And then even though I tried to think about why anything about my life should be a story, I heard Kaericci tell me that she didn’t think her life was a story worth telling.
When I heard Kaericci talk about her own doubts, I wanted to tell her that she was wrong, but I couldn’t because Donald was thinking about what she was thinking and I found myself listening to his story.
Okay, now this is weird. We can talk over each other, sometimes, but then something takes over, at times, and makes sure we can’t. It’s impossible.
Donald, we are getting nowhere.
Rebecca, you’re right.
Where are we supposed to be getting to?
Suddenly I needed it to be quiet. Kaericci had hit the nail on the head. Where was this supposed to be getting to anyway? As I unplugged the cables from my lap top computer, and opened it up, while balancing it on my knees, I wondered why this was happening. What was really going on? I was certain, by now, that I wasn’t dreaming. I think everyone knows that point when you realize that something is not a dream. But, when you finally know you aren’t dreaming, isn’t the dream supposed to stop. Who were these people? Why was I hearing them in my head, me? Why me? I could look up things on the internet, try to get some information, but what was I going to look for? Was I supposed to know their stories, because it was going to help me in my interview? Why would they need to know anything about me? A goblin girl who thinks she is going to die, and an alien girl who also thinks she is going to die, and me, a guy who thinks he is going to screw up an interview for a job, who is what I’m waiting for anything like what they are waiting for? And then it occurred to me. It must be the waiting. We are all waiting for something, but what is the significance of waiting? And, as silly as it was to think about, why couldn’t any one of the stories be the one that needed to be told? Why have three stories, overlapping and confused, go on at the same time.
He was on to something. Donald’s thoughts were clear and made sense, even though I couldn’t explain why he would be telling his story just then instead of either of the two of us telling ours. But he was right. The one thing we all have in common, is the waiting. I wanted to ask Kaericci more about what it meant to her to be waiting for what she imagined was her fate, but I had to wait for Donald to finish. Why did I have to wait for him to finish, when just a moment ago, we all talked at the same time?
It was getting out of hand. A goblin doesn’t care about these kinds of things. That was what her father had always said every time I had asked my father to explain something about a story I didn’t understand. I had lain down in the hollow of a tree to die. I remember that. I understood that, but as each new second (a second is a tiny measure of time, something she had only come to understand in the last few minutes) passed, I was beginning to understood more. I began to feel like I wanted to talk to my father right now. I wanted to tell him I was learning new things, I could learn new things, and that maybe he was wrong, and a goblin should care about these kinds of things. As I listened to Donald, and Rebecca, tell their stories, about how they were wondering about why they were telling their stories, I understood what they were saying. I understood them. Maybe that’s all that there really was too it. A story can teach you things.
Kaericci, do you read stories, or are the stories you are talking about only told to you?
Rebecca, I don’t know how to read, but now that you have asked me about it, I want to learn. Can you teach me how to read?
Not this way. I don’t know how that would work. Reading involves books, or papers, with words written on them.
But they are stories, right?
Yes, they are stories.
So this is another kind of story. We are telling each other a story, like my people do, not like in a book.
But why? I thought. That was the thing that kept plaguing me. Why are we supposed to tell each other our stories? I mean, sitting her in my apartment on the morning before an important interview, I should be sleeping, but I wasn’t. And it wasn’t just a simple delusional conversation either. No. It wasn’t that I was practicing what I was going to say in the interview, imagining what the interviewer would ask (imagining it was going to be a woman doing the interview, instead of a man, but why? I don’t know, maybe it was what I was hoping for. I have an easier time, talking to women) and imagining my answers. It was more than just a conversation in his mind. It was this aspect to it that it was a story, but why?
I think that is what we need to explore. I think you have something, both of you. But like I said before, we aren’t getting anywhere. So if we all agree that there is a story that needs to be told, but we don’t know who’s story this is, or why we are all involved, maybe we should stop talking in circles, and get to know each other. It seems like one of us should go first. Maybe there is something for each of us to learn, like Kaericci is learning. Who should go first?
| Terquem |
waiting
(C) 2012 DH Austin
word count 6717 there may be a bonus part added later today
Part 4
Who should go first? Go first at what? This is something very strange. I think we all agree on that. We have talked at the same time, and then something different happens that keeps us from talking at the same time. I might be thinking about this right now, but you both might be thinking the same kinds of things. Are you hearing me, or are you thinking? And what happens when one of us is thinking or talking? It can’t be that things stand still, that the universe is waiting, while one of us is telling a story, can it?
Do you see how that idea, that idea about waiting keeps coming up, Rebecca.
Yes, I do, Donald. I get that it is important. But look, I’ve got nothing else to do. I’m not really waiting, not thinking about it that way. At least I wasn’t until I started hearing the two of you.
Suddenly everything around me feels strange. It’s my living room, my apartment. I’m on the third floor of a five storey building. But, for the first time in my life I am feeling like I am somewhere strange, somewhere alien. Even the couch feels different. I think I understand the feeling. It’s anxiety. And I don’t like it.
Donald, what’s wrong?
I don’t know. My skin is tingling and I’m just sort of jumpy. Is everything alright with you, Rebecca, Kaericci?
I’m fine. I was just about to lie down in my bunk and try to rest. I’m fine.
Kaericci?
Kaericci?
Rebecca, can you hear Kaericci?
No, I can’t. Do you think, do you think she died?
Rebecca’s voice sounded frightened.
“I don’t know,” I said out loud.
You said what out loud?
What.
Why can’t we hear the things we say? I mean I didn’t hear what you said, if you said something, out loud, with your normal voice, I mean.
So, if I try to tell you something, are you listening?
Yes.
“With my normal voice,” I said out loud.
Why did you say, I said out loud?
I didn’t say, I said out loud, nor did I think it. I just spoke with my voice and you heard something I didn’t think at all, related to me, but not what I said. This makes no sense.
Wait, hold on a second. I sat the lap top aside, and ran back to my bedroom, to the closet. In the bottom of my closet is a small cardboard box that I’ve written on in black marker, ‘Books I want to keep’. I opened the flaps of the box and took out a book. It was an old Piers Anthony novel, and I opened it to a random page and read from it out loud.
“- - - - - --- ---- ----- ------ ------- ------ ------,” I read out loud.
Now that was weird.
What happened?
I heard you describing how you went and got a book out of a box, and then you said you were going to read from it out loud, but then the next sounds I heard were like a buzzing, a static sound, and then you said, I read out loud.
You didn’t hear what I read. I get that. I was talking, and see, in the book, in books, when people talk there are those punctuation marks, and then the words, the writer writes the words, I said, or she said, or he said. But you know what? No one ever thinks those words after they talk. No one uses those words unless they are telling a story. You know, you even might say, I said, when you are telling someone else what you said to someone else, but it is only when you are telling a story.
Okay, you’re excited about this, but what does it mean? I don’t understand what it means.
I don’t know but it means something. It means something. Okay, so I was talking on the phone to a friend of mine about how I felt about the interview tomorrow, and you heard me say something about that. I heard you and Kaericca talk about what was happening to you. She was waiting to die, and you, well, like you said, you were in a situation where things, things in the future, seemed hopeless, maybe you weren’t waiting to die, but you, what I heard you tell me, your story was that you had given up. You had given up. Kaericci had given up. And, and, damn it. I knew it. See, even though I wasn’t thinking it. I was afraid that when I woke up in the morning, I was going to back out of the interview. I was going to give up. You know I think that the very next thing I was going to think about was doing something else, and not going, but instead of thinking about giving up, I heard your voices. And I stopped thinking about it.
My situation is hopeless, Donald. It’s not about giving up. I’m not about to take my own life, that’s forbidden. My beliefs are very strong about that. And Kaericci, well, she may have a better grasp on her situation than you are giving her credit for. She is probably dead. She felt like she was going to die. I felt like my situation was hopeless, but both of us were in acceptance of our fate. I don’t see how backing out of an interview is the same thing, unless you want to tell me that you believe you are fated to never be employed doing whatever it was you were going to interview for. Is that it? Donald, are you hiding something? Is there something about that interview you don’t, you can’t, talk about? When I asked you about it earlier, you ignored me. Donald? Donald, are you gone now?
I was crying, and here’s the funny thing. I was trying to stop myself from crying because I had the feeling she would hear me tell her that I was crying. I fought the tears. I tried as hard as I could to not think anything at all, but I couldn’t and now I know, I just know she knows everything I was just trying to keep from her.
It’s okay, Donald. I can’t, actually hear you cry. That’s what I wanted to tell you, Donald, but I knew that there would probably more. He would know that even though I couldn’t hear him cry, that I imagined him, sitting in his bedroom, crying, and I knew what it was like to cry like that. I had a brief feeling, a sad feeling, but it didn’t make me cry. Donald, tell me about your interview. Why would going to this interview make you cry?
Yes, I want to know why you are crying.
Kaericci!
Kaericci!
What? What? Is everything alright?
Kaericci, we were worried that you had died. You went away, or at least your voice went away, and we didn’t hear anything from you. Were you listening the whole time?
I think I must have fallen asleep. I don’t remember when it happened, but I woke up just a moment ago when Donald was saying he was crying about something. I don’t think I slept for very long.
You didn’t die.
Yes, Rebecca’s right, Kaericci. You didn’t die.
No, I’m not dead. At least I don’t think I’m dead. It’s very dark still, and I can feel the tree against my skin, so, yes, it’s a pretty good sign that I’m not dead. But I should be. I should be dead. I was thinking that I was going to die, but then I heard your voices, and, and, I stopped thinking about that. I don’t want to die. I didn’t want to die, but I wasn’t thinking like that before. I met the two of you, and now I’m not going to die. I hope.
I hope you don’t die too, Kaericci. Rebecca, you see what happened here!
I think so, but I’m not sure. You were going to give up, but we’ll never now, until tomorrow, for you, if you do or you don’t. Kaericci had given up, or maybe she hadn’t. Maybe a part of her didn’t want to give up, but if she lives, if she survives her injuries, we won’t know, we can’t know, but for how long. But Donald, neither of those things have any relevance to my situation. Changing my attitude can’t put me back on course.
Why can’t it?
Yes, why can’t it.
You have to understand the nature of Aetherspace.
Explain it to me.
Yes, explain it to us. But, to be honest I don’t know how much I will understand. Let me tell you both something. I’ve never been able to talk like this. It seems that when you say things, use new words I’ve never heard, or used, before, I understand the words and what they are supposed to mean, and then I can use them myself. I think that our minds, being connected as they are now, is changing me, but let me tell you something, there I said that twice, because it’s important. I am using new words, and I understand most of what is going on, when you tell your stories, but some of it, well, some of it is just nonsense, and I don’t understand it, but it doesn’t seem to matter.
I don’t understand that, Kaericci, but don’t feel bad. I don’t really understand what Rebecca has been talking about, at times, but I want her to explain this place she is in, this Aetherspace place. I really think that as she explains it, something might occur to her that she hasn’t thought before. Something about our fates has been, I don’t know, what’s the word, intwined?
You mean intertwined.
Intertwined, that’s a great word.
Sorry, intertwined it is. Rebecca, maybe things aren’t as bad as you think they are. Tell us why you can’t get back to where you are supposed to be.