that. I could only nod again.
He came and sat beside me in the dark. "I've
been looking for you for hours. I had no idea there were so many
abandoned houses in the neighborhood."
"That's half the reason I've stuck around
here so long," I laughed quietly. "One world falls apart, and
another seeps into the cracks." My own words gave me pause; like
some kind of accidental prophecy. I'd only been speaking of his
suburb, overworked parents, and inequality-strained society, but
the words themselves reflected something of our conflict with the
portal.
"What's the other half?" he asked.
"What?"
"The other half of the reason you stay."
"Oh." I stared around the empty shadow-lit
room for several seconds. I'd been running from it for so long… it
felt like time to release my wound; cleanse my infection. Recent
events had permanently damaged my internal armor. The scars I'd
built up had been stripped away, leaving raw, bleeding pain in
their stead. "I had a daughter once. She was about your age when
she… well."
It was his turn to say it. "Oh." He took
three deep breaths, not sure what to say. "What was she like?"
"Tough," I admitted. "Awesome, really. She
had simply endless willpower, and always found a way through every
problem in life. She grew up to be very pretty, too, even despite
the condition she was in."
He made a confused noise. "I thought
she-"
"Right, yes," I corrected myself, my head
fuzzy with regret. "I saw her. She gave me the iWorker device
you're training. But it wasn't her… just a version of her from that
reality."
"That must have been very hard for you."
Wiser than his years? This kid was more of a
respectable adult than I!
"Are you still going to help us?" he asked,
after two or three quiet minutes spent thinking.
"I don't know if I can," I replied honestly.
"The last time I tried to-" I shook my head, choking up. "No matter
how much you anticipate, no matter how smart you are, or how fast
you are… sometimes it just doesn't matter. Sometimes, there just isn't a way out. "
He sniffled. "I don't want to believe
that."
"What's the alternative? Believing that, if
my daughter had just made different choices, she'd still be alive?
That it's her fault she-"
"Is it your fault, though?" he
interrupted. "Or should you blame the thing that… got her?"
To that, I had nothing to say. This boy -
this young man - had somehow hit right to the heart of the
issue.
He slumped down. "I'm starving."
But, apparently, he was still a young man,
and moments of wisdom were fleeting in young men. "Don't you have
any food at home?" I asked.
He didn't reply.
Reaching over to rummage around in my
oversized travel backpack, I reached past my laptop, various
sundries, one saved shoe with special dirt on it, and spare
clothing to fish out a ten dollar bill. I placed it in his
surprised hand. "Take it. Get something to eat."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Thanks," he said, sincere. "I'll go in the
morning." He curled up against the wall, preparing to sleep.
I frowned, but… I couldn't stop him sleeping
where he wanted. Did he not feel safe at home? By the ambient light
drifting in from the windows, I could see an ugly bruise around his
right eye. "Make sure you eat 'til you're practically sick. Really
glut on some heavy fast food."
He laughed. "I sure will."
Sometime late at night, I'd intended on
initiating my plan to safely view the objective image of the
problematic book, but it didn't seem fair to leave the boy
unprotected. I kept the paper with the deadly schematic rolled up
safely in my backpack, and waited up while he slept. It was a
simple matter to stay awake and alert for hours on end -
... I coughed and started, suddenly awake…
and oddly rested. It felt like I'd had a soul-weary weight lifted,
at least for a little while. How had I fallen asleep like that? If
anything had happened, it would have been unforgivable…
A scream of absolute terror resounded in the
cul-de-sac outside.
Rushing forward on my hands
He came and sat beside me in the dark. "I've
been looking for you for hours. I had no idea there were so many
abandoned houses in the neighborhood."
"That's half the reason I've stuck around
here so long," I laughed quietly. "One world falls apart, and
another seeps into the cracks." My own words gave me pause; like
some kind of accidental prophecy. I'd only been speaking of his
suburb, overworked parents, and inequality-strained society, but
the words themselves reflected something of our conflict with the
portal.
"What's the other half?" he asked.
"What?"
"The other half of the reason you stay."
"Oh." I stared around the empty shadow-lit
room for several seconds. I'd been running from it for so long… it
felt like time to release my wound; cleanse my infection. Recent
events had permanently damaged my internal armor. The scars I'd
built up had been stripped away, leaving raw, bleeding pain in
their stead. "I had a daughter once. She was about your age when
she… well."
It was his turn to say it. "Oh." He took
three deep breaths, not sure what to say. "What was she like?"
"Tough," I admitted. "Awesome, really. She
had simply endless willpower, and always found a way through every
problem in life. She grew up to be very pretty, too, even despite
the condition she was in."
He made a confused noise. "I thought
she-"
"Right, yes," I corrected myself, my head
fuzzy with regret. "I saw her. She gave me the iWorker device
you're training. But it wasn't her… just a version of her from that
reality."
"That must have been very hard for you."
Wiser than his years? This kid was more of a
respectable adult than I!
"Are you still going to help us?" he asked,
after two or three quiet minutes spent thinking.
"I don't know if I can," I replied honestly.
"The last time I tried to-" I shook my head, choking up. "No matter
how much you anticipate, no matter how smart you are, or how fast
you are… sometimes it just doesn't matter. Sometimes, there just isn't a way out. "
He sniffled. "I don't want to believe
that."
"What's the alternative? Believing that, if
my daughter had just made different choices, she'd still be alive?
That it's her fault she-"
"Is it your fault, though?" he
interrupted. "Or should you blame the thing that… got her?"
To that, I had nothing to say. This boy -
this young man - had somehow hit right to the heart of the
issue.
He slumped down. "I'm starving."
But, apparently, he was still a young man,
and moments of wisdom were fleeting in young men. "Don't you have
any food at home?" I asked.
He didn't reply.
Reaching over to rummage around in my
oversized travel backpack, I reached past my laptop, various
sundries, one saved shoe with special dirt on it, and spare
clothing to fish out a ten dollar bill. I placed it in his
surprised hand. "Take it. Get something to eat."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Thanks," he said, sincere. "I'll go in the
morning." He curled up against the wall, preparing to sleep.
I frowned, but… I couldn't stop him sleeping
where he wanted. Did he not feel safe at home? By the ambient light
drifting in from the windows, I could see an ugly bruise around his
right eye. "Make sure you eat 'til you're practically sick. Really
glut on some heavy fast food."
He laughed. "I sure will."
Sometime late at night, I'd intended on
initiating my plan to safely view the objective image of the
problematic book, but it didn't seem fair to leave the boy
unprotected. I kept the paper with the deadly schematic rolled up
safely in my backpack, and waited up while he slept. It was a
simple matter to stay awake and alert for hours on end -
... I coughed and started, suddenly awake…
and oddly rested. It felt like I'd had a soul-weary weight lifted,
at least for a little while. How had I fallen asleep like that? If
anything had happened, it would have been unforgivable…
A scream of absolute terror resounded in the
cul-de-sac outside.
Rushing forward on my hands
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