James Wylder, Writer

In a lifeless clockwork solar system - where nothing had happened for a million years with perfect regularity - some new speck of dust had blown into the machine: a blue crystal moon, about the size of a house. Jason's hair was still wet from the shower. "Ooh! Star Wars episode ex-ex-ex-eye-ex: Abeloth's Revenge!"
"Eh," said Blanche, flipping through the TV magazine, which in these days had graduated from commercial publishing to the high-end small press: the films that ran through Sunday afternoons were explored in dramatic multi-page features set in the Swiss International Style, the regular listings ran in dense columns of lightly embossed type you could run your finger over like braille, and it arrived in a glossy hardback with highly designed collectible inserts whenever a soap had an explosion in it.
"Why not?" asked Jason. "It's got the best space battles in the series!"
"I hate watching movies on TV. The art is always broken up by five-minute capitalism breaks, it’s a tax on time."
They sat on the sofa in a small alcove coming off the Factory of Crystal's control tower. This living area had a coffee table, a luminous pot plant, and a wood-panelled 70s TV plugged into a fancy crystal socket.
Lady Aesculapius, meanwhile, danced around the Foce's controls, occasionally speaking aloud about coordinates and dimensions.
"Babe, who are you talking to?" asked Blanche.
Lady Aesc looked up. "Myselves. I'm trying to find the Utopia Dimension so we can stop them destroying more universes, but I can't get a fix. I've enlisted all my previous incarnations to help run a calculation from my first life to now, but it's not really working. God, I was such an idiot."
Blanche frowned. On one of the screens she could make out images of previous Lady Aescs, most of whom looked like stock footage. There were many Blanche didn't recognise, like one with a brightly coloured jumper and a huge 1980s perm, another wearing a beige suit with an old Greenpeace t-shirt. Only the three most recent Aesculapii were in HD. Two bedraggled elvin androgynes fought at a steamship’s console in a drawing by Aubrey Beardsley, and one screen displayed a photo of a Greek oracle on a vase.
Jason resumed channel surfing. "What do you wanna watch?"
"I prefer, like, all the prestige drama," said Blanche, turning back to the TV.
"Mmmm…” Jason really couldn't stomach a lot of serious shows about violence and death where nobody got a happy ending, but he also wanted to break the tension with Blanche.
Something caught her eye. “Do you have EastEnders, in your time?”
“Oh yeah, we love the soaps in this house don’t we?”
“I have lived for a million years,” said Aesc, “and I shall live for a million more. Five seasons is a short story for me, I need Russian novels.”
“When's it on?" He looked out the window at the planet they were orbiting. The Factory was going fairly quickly, it had been night a few times since he woke up, and nobody had had their dinner yet. "Ye know what…”
"Don't."
"What?"
"Don't ask it. Don't think it. Just leave the thought alone."
Jason frowned. "Alright, geez. I was just gonnae ask 'what time is it now?'"
Without any clear movement in the room, they became aware of Lady Aesculapius breathing heavily between their faces.
"I think it's…”
She looked at Blanche.
"…time…”
She looked at Jason.
"…we had the conversation," she said, stressing each syllable.
Blanche flapped her arms in frustration, letting her open palms slap against her knees, then stood up. "Fuck's sake."

"Behold!"
Lady Aesculapius threw open a pair of double doors and Jason beheld another pair of double doors.
"Wait, hold on, I always forget about this weird vestibule bit." She approached the next set of doors and threw those open. "Behold!"
It was like an art gallery designed by M.C. Escher. The room was vast, with high vaulted ceilings and ornate patterns carved into the Factory of Crystal's bright blue walls. Staircases jutted out at weird angles and doorways led off to other rooms where the laws of physics - or, “best practices” - shouldn’t have allowed them. There were what looked like sculptural art pieces and display cases everywhere, some on the ground level, some on the walls or halfway upside-down a flight of steps.
"What is this place?" asked Jason.
"My darkest secret, my strange addiction," said Lady Aesc. "My collection of clocks from all across the multiverse. You know how it is. Someone gives you one as a gift, then someone gives you another, then people see that you have two and assume you must collect them, and it just kinda…” She flapped her arms at the lifetimes of curatorial work behind her, as if apologising for the mess.
"I see a few more since I was last in here," said Blanche.
"We'd better do the full tour then! Jason, pay attention. Jason?"
Jason was standing in a large circle of dirt in the middle of the vestibule, bounded by a kerb that had ‘STEP OVER ME!’ painted all around it in a white stencil font. He was staring at a long tree branch that had been thrust into the ground at the centre of the circle. "What's this?"
"That's for later." Lady Aesc put a hand on his shoulder, slowly but firmly pulling him out of the circle. "We need to work up to that one, let’s go through it all as Curator intended, yeah? Yeah.”


* * *


"The first thing to understand about the question 'what time is it now?' is that time is relative to where you are," explained Lady Aesc.
"Well I know that," said Jason. He glanced at each clock as they moved down the line. It was 5:57pm in London, 12:57am in New York, and 1:57am in Beijing; 4:57pm in Atlantis, 10:57xm in Jaa’stek, 57:57 on Planet 57, and high noon on Cowboy Emoji.
"These ones here aren't up to much," said Lady Aesc, breezing by them quickly. "Here we have a five-dimensional clock from Kapisto, an anti-clockwise clock built by the Time Rebellion, who I love, and a clock punched by factory workers - to pieces, I should add - during the revolution of Beta Pictoris c. Ah, here's a good one."


The Saturday Clock does not have hands, but two long black liquorice ropes that roll slowly along its irregular face. Nobody knows what powers the clock, but it barely cares to be powered at all; it is centrally driven - with no appreciable motor - by something like a big water wheel you might see on a riverside mill, that eventually falls under the irresistible weight of long slow droops of honey that ooze out from who-knows-where.


Another clock comes from from the trustless blockchain world, where it is agreed upon that everyone arrives at the agreed-upon time: at the city market that uses more electricity than Austria, and handles seven transactions per second.


* * *


Jason frowned.
Atop the pedestal was a scale model of London's Elizabeth Tower, complete with the Houses of Parliament and Westminster Bridge. The clocks on the four faces of the tower reached midnight, and a tiny bell rang.
Jason turned to face Lady Aesc.
"Small Ben,” she said.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it."


Later, Jason examined a late-Victorian pocket watch that had been embedded in a stone.
Lady Aesculapius crept up very slowly behind him.
Jason pondered the way that the watch appeared to have been fossilised. This wasn’t a natural find, the little plaque on the wall explained, this was a piece. One of the anonymous artists had placed this watch in the ground, somewhere that they had to have known wouldn’t be disturbed, and the other had known to cut it out of the stone that formed there millions of years later.
Lady Aesculapius was in the process of leaning over, behind his shoulder, making sure that her hair didn’t fall and tickle his back.
Jason folded his arms in contemplation. He thought about the complexity of this object, and how greater complexity falls so quickly into entropy, about how all we ever see of the ancient civilizations are their pots or their toy horses, just because there’s less to fall apart. He thought about carbon nanofiber skyscrapers of clear solar-panel glass, and engineering done by AI architects who couldn’t explain their methods if we knew how to ask. He thought about something as simple as the pyramids or the tombs of pharaohs. Maybe if humans went extinct on Earth, after some great stretch of time, all that an alien archaeologist would find would be pyramids and plastic shopping bags.
As Jason made sense of the fossilised fob watch, and breathed deeply because he’d forgotten to breathe for a hot minute, Lady Aesculapius’ lips hovered at his earlobe. She whispered, “rock around the clock.”


* * *


Professional reenactors braid their beards, don their druid robes and take their place at Papiermâchéhenge, encircled by a tungsten-halogen sun. To this day experts debate how the structure could have possibly been built.


* * *


In the olden days the cogs of a clock had a story to tell about where they stood: tooth in tooth with comrades big and small. With the invention of digital clocks - and the attendant innovation in computing technology - the cogs now spend their days cooped up in little transistors, sending their messages zooming along silicon superhighways. The circuit boards get smaller every year, but for the agile digital cog of today space is never an issue: when they sleepily trudge home across the copper cobbles they move through eachother like ghosts, and end up apologising if their teeth touch.


* * *


“Oh look!” Jason perked up and pointed over in the distance. “That’s one of those Salvador Dalí clocks, from the painting!”
“Oh yeah,” Aesc nodded, visibly not paying attention to it.
“Everyone loves the melty clocks, Aesc!” Blanche grinned.
“And that’s perfectly fine,” said Aesc.
“What’s wrong with the melty clocks?” Jason asked.
“I never said there was anything wrong with the melty clocks,” said Aesc.
“I just feel like I’m being made to feel like there’s something wrong with the melty clocks,” said Jason.
“It’s just…” Aesc stopped and faced the melty clock. “A bit… tourist-y? Like, I understand why the melty clock is popular, it’s sort of iconic and sort of… conceptually very digestible, sure, but like… there’s not much intellectual meat on those bones, is what I’m saying…”
“Wow,” said Jason.
“It’s sort of like an Andy Warhol-”
“Wow,” said Blanche.
“-in that you see it, and there’s a thrill in seeing it, and that’s perfectly valid, but when you actually look at it, for a while, what’s really there?”
Jason folded his arms. “You made us sit in that cinema room for ten minutes watching a video art piece that told the story of an apricot who knows exactly when he’s gonna die.”
“And what a story it had to tell!”


* * *


A bottle of amber liquid sits on a pedestal. A click, and it sprays a strong perfume that smells distinctly like quarter-past two.


The next clock looked like any other, but the numbers around its circumference were all wrong. The numbers went from 1 to 13, and between those big numbers were smaller numbers counting from 0 to 45.
"Ah, the adventure clock," said Lady Aesc. "45-minute hours, with days broken up into 13 action-packed instalments."
"Why would you need a clock like this?" asked Jason.
"It fits my life pretty well. 45 minutes is a good amount of time for an adventure; too short and there's not enough plot development, too long and it starts to devolve into filler. And 13 instalments gives your day enough room to have an arc.”


The next one along was a picture frame mounted on the wall. It looked empty, but when Jason stood in front of it, there appeared a picture of some lemons criss-crossed by the Getty Images watermark.
Jason frowned.
Blanche heard his frown. "It's the vibe clock. It gives you a random high-quality JPEG of something that evokes the time."
Jason frowned louder. "But… those are some lemons."
The picture frame faded. Then a new picture emerged, this time of Scott Bakula from Quantum Leap.
"Well now it's Scott Bakula from Quantum Leap."
"Yes," said Blanche. "The time changed."


They arrived at what was, by all appearances, an ordinary grandfather clock.
“That’s just an ordinary grandfather clock,” said Blanche.
“But is it?” asked Jason, folding his arms, slightly shivering in his bathrobe. “Is it?”
“Yesss,” Lady Aesculapius intoned. “It’s just that it stopped precisely when its owner died, is all.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Jason whispered.
“Many such cases,” she whispered back.


* * *


What will be arguably the best clock has not been designed with the average user in mind. First the team of designers, doctors, anthropologists, and explorers - all Americans - looked into clocks for the disabled: flashing or vibrating clocks for the deaf, talking clocks and stylish braille smartwatches, clocks that grounded one in time, place and purpose for those in the early stages of dementia. Then they travelled across the galaxy to the planet of Gon-polvo, where people had never had to develop linear, narrative memory. They braved the jungles of Imagurro to study the Norritevini, a species precisely the opposite of humans in every way you’d care to think. They were the first to map out - using unmanned aerial drones with LIDAR laser scanners - the lands of the Aulect, whose planet never turned and for whom day and night hemmed in the liminal biome along the equator, who were born in the morning, hunted most of the afternoon, and spent their last decades playing with grandchildren in the midday sun, between contemplative trips to the Sunset Lands with a view of the edge of the Night.
The expedition continues with no end in sight, but they and the supervisory committee believe in an old principle of accessible design: that if we fully map out the circumference, the middle will find itself. (Where better, they have determined, to place the axis from which the hands will turn?)


And here is a soft clock with no gears and no silicon, but a musculature of threads wound on spools of stuffed silk. Where once there was hollow plasticene ticking there is now gentle tension and hard release, and sometimes a quiet brushing sound like hair on a pillow.


Eternalism tells us that time is static and unmoving and that every moment exists at once. In some cultures on the planet Theda, intelligence is negatively correlated with precision, and their totally abstract clocks are never wrong.


* * *


Lady Aesculapius arrived at a bulky suitcase from the 1980s, which sat open on a pedestal with a crisp rectangular block of cash between its leather gums. “This,” said Aesc, “is a clock from the capitalist planet where time is money.” She threw Jason an inky wad of hundreds. “I’ve just added a month onto your lifespan, spend it all at once.”
“You mean you just have this?” Jason stared at the suitcase.
“Over there is the clock from the socialist planet where money was replaced by digital tokens on a decentralised, federated econOS, each one representing an hour of labour time: what the boss once skimmed off the top is now given to the employee, and for the first time they are earning an hour’s pay for an hour’s work. The factory that makes a thousand widgets in an hour sells each widget for a thousandth of an hour, and every sunday painter’s last work is literally priceless.”


Jason was relieved to see what looked like a completely normal clock amongst this collection, before he noticed the second hand moving faster the more he thought about it, and thought and thought and thought about it.
"That's the anxiety clock," said Blanche. She leaned into Jason's ear. "It knows."
"It… knows?" said Jason. "Knows what?"
"Oh, I think you know what it knows." She moved on, smiling when he couldn't see.
Jason took one last look at the anxiety clock as he walked away. Five minutes had passed already, and he’d wasted all of them thinking about that.


“Oh shit, there she is,” Blanche whispered.
Aesculapius stopped and hid beside a window in the wall. She’d framed it like an old painting: a view of a rustic sunlit kitchen in the afternoon. “I think I can smell something baking,” said Jason. He got closer to the window and his eyes widened. “I actually can smell something baking.”
Something beeped, and Jason froze as a woman in a peachy-red dress that swished around her knees fully ran into the kitchen. She’d looked right at him, he thought, but she was too busy tunneling into oven gloves to notice him.
“What does she look like, ace pilot?” Blanche grinned, raising her eyebrows at Jason.
He made a face at her. “I dunno, I can’t see. She’s facing away from me and she’s bent over something in the oven.”
“I’m gonna wait before I turn around so it’s not that pervy,” said Aesc, sucking air through her teeth.
“What would be pervy?” Jason asked. “You can’t see anything. Oh, here she’s turning around now.”
Aesc and Blanche swooned around to rest on Jason’s shoulders, watching the woman nurse a hot pie onto the counter. She blew an obstreperous strand of red hair out of her face then rearranged the whole mass with one glove still on, stopping to recognise something outside of her big open window. Whatever it was, it registered on her soft rosy face with the smallest curl on the corner of her mouth.
“Oh my god,” Aesc fainted into the nape of Jason’s neck. “I cannot.”
“This is Sally Roe,” said Blanche. “She’s an artist who teaches primary school children three days a week. She’s English and speaks BBC-approved received pronunciation even though she was born two generations too late for that. She collects stray cats and really cares about recycling-”
“But not in a paper-straws way ‘cause she’s cool like that,” said Aesculapius.
“-and she’s sort of scatterbrained so she’s taken up list-making, and she’s been quite depressed since the breakup last Christmas-”
“Christmas!” Aesc lamented. “I’ll kill that man.”
“-but, goddammit Jason, she’s trying. She lives in the south of France and has taken up baking. We don’t know why, we only ever see her through this window, but she hasn’t baked since last summer, so.” Blanche looked at Jason, then made a sort of side-eye gesture. “She talks to herself all the time, too. We’re listening for a name. We listen for a name maybe two nights most weeks.”
Jason stood between the two melting women, who radiated little sighs and loving noises at eachother from either side of him. “Why is she here, then? Is that it?” Jason pointed at the clock on the oven. “Is that the clock?”
“Sally Roe gets prettier every year,” said Aesc. “Bolder every month and more self-aware by the week. She’s a carnivorous reader who grows more curious every day, a little wiser every hour, and today she’s becoming more comfortable with her own company every minute. Every second, she sheds one hundred and sixty-six cells of dead skin.”
“Ew,” whispered Jason.
“But everybody does that too,” whispered Blanche, almost unconsciously fingering the curls at the back of his head. “So honestly, who can blame her? Nobody said she was perfect.”


Jason examined a postcard on a pedestal: little cottages huddled on the grassy islands, some of which bobbed out from the water like seals and some of which had grown up to be soft snowy mountains in the distance.
Aesculapius glanced over at Blanche, who was chasing a little alarm clock on wheels, and slid over to Jason’s shoulder. “This is Sommarøy, a little island in Norway where the sun rises in May and sets at the end of July. The usual constraints of day and night mean nothing to the three-hundred and fifty residents, and in some universes they fought a long and hard-won campaign to abolish time entirely. Me and an ex-girlfriend once went on holiday there forever.”


“Over there,” said Aesc, “is the wing of the museum full of blurry and breezy measures of time from all over the Earth, all replicas or gifts from before Europeans landed, before punctuality was enforced at the end of a bayonet.”


“What’s this?” Jason asked, stopping at a red round plinth of bright curtain that billowed very gently at the hem, as if there were a silent breeze from whatever was inside.
“There is a version of Earth where property law shook out differently,” said Aesculapius. “In your world, it used to be the case that the matrilineal line - mothers and children - was the only thing recognised as family, and relations were otherwise so loosey-goosey that in general the men of the tribe recognised many children as their potential offspring.”
“Okay…” said Jason.
“Then agriculture got wicked good, which created the need for organisation, which created a desire for slaves, and then ownership, and in men a great need to see that their accumulated property was passed down to their sons. Former nomads built their individual clay huts, and like the human hand evolved to fit the hammer, the human family evolved to fit the household.”
Blanche continued. “So wealth compounded down the line of fathers and sons. Men inherited land, workers, and soldiers, and the man with the most of these things was made king. Civilisation was born in wedlock, and the world was built on male influence: the pantheons and the fertility cults were driven out by the Father, who so loved mankind that he sacrificed his only so on and so forth.”
“It’s not all metaphysics,” Aesculapius added. “As late as the early twenty-first century, women were misdiagnosed after heart attacks because all the medical studies had been done on men, who show some different symptoms. Women were more likely to be seriously injured in car accidents because the crash-test dummies were all made to look and crush like men’s bodies. Those kinds of things were everywhere, the whole edifice of human knowledge had been built to look like a male face.”
Jason paused, then tried not to furrow his brow too visibly. “So is the punchline here going to be something about how, like, the way we measure time is a certain way because we’re using clocks that were designed by men? Is this going to be one of those bloody awful ‘Prosecco O’ Clock’ things you see in gift shops?”
Blanche took over, preparedly. “In the twentyteens there were studies that found if you gave a man a gun his body started producing more testosterone, and that a milkshake was ‘read’ by the digestive system as more nutritious if the person had been told it was healthy. Social constructs aren’t afraid to become biological ones,” concluded the white-haired Russian.
“Now,” said Lady Aesculapius. “Cook the human race in culture for ten-thousand-plus years. Add more salt. What do you think that does to a species’ brain? The question I was basically interested in when I went searching for this place was, if a human from the Patriarchy Timeline landed in the Matriarchy one, how would they see it? On a basic, sensory level, I mean. Would the moment-to-moment experience of walking down a city street be completely overwritten? Would they be able to learn the language? Would this one alteration have completely changed the neurochemical template for the human race such that it would be as if you had landed on another planet? If you looked at one of their clocks, would you be able to tell the time? Would you be able to even see it? Or would it be so unthinkably strange to you, so radically alien that it would just bounce off your brain and refuse to go down as mere information?”
“Uh,” Jason trailed off. “I don’t know.”
“Neither do I,” said Blanche, sitting down on the floor at Aesc’s feet. “I’m human, so I’m… infected. We all are. That’s the point. What’s behind that curtain is literally impossible for you or I to think about in anything resembling detail.”
“But you must have seen it, Aesc, right?” Jason asked. “If you carried it and brought the thing here?”
“If I talked about this clock for even longer,” she smiled, “would it make any more sense?”
“Well…” Jason scratched his head, maybe just searching the dark wiry curls of his hair for something to hold on to. “Would it be, like, sexist if I asked if I could see it?”
They both laughed and stepped away, clearing the path for him and settling down to watch this.
Jason approached the textural red velvet and his hand shook as he felt around for the seam til he was on the other side of the thick warm column. He parted the curtain and before he saw it he felt another layer of curtain brush against his knuckles, felt the weight of the material cover him up to his shoulders like every time he’d wrestled the cover onto a duvet or something.
He stepped forward and let the curtains swallow him up. The museum’s smooth marble floor was newly cool with each step on the skin of his bare feet. He found this comforting, as no reassuring sound from outside could reach him here. There was light from outside shining through the fabric, but there was light shining through all the fabric, as if the layers and layers of heavy cloth were soft wedding veils against his cheeks when he pushed his nose through another fold; it had become too tiring to lift the velvet in front of him as pleasant as it was to the touch, so he started using his face and then he started using his shoulder to negotiate through the mass like he was in a crowded nightclub, like he was being pressed by sweaty bodies on all sides. He remembered nightclubs. He remembered the first time he held a stranger’s hand was in a club - he was lost and she was leading him through the hot tides of movement, out of the sweat and out to the smoking area whenever she needed to breathe or to the bar when she wanted him to take his first ever shot right there, right then, and twice. He was lost. There was a strange smell filling up his head and working its way through his chest and brain. He was lost, he felt, in the best possible way. As he raised his arms to lift another sheet he felt something bump into the back of his thigh, then it felt him and moved up the height of him and he could hear it urgently shifting everything around.
“Aesc?”
He felt smothered by touch, his ears were overpowered by actual silence. A warm hand slid into the opening between his thumb and forefinger and gently pulled him with some certainty.
“Blanche? Is that you?”
Red velvet lifted from his face and he took the moment to breathe and the air felt good as it entered his throat and warmed up in the soft pink harbour of his lungs, exciting something in the chambers of his trembling heart. He looked down and saw bejewelled fingers tighten around his hand, wondered at the black tesseractic runes tattooed between the woman’s knuckles, the black bell sleeve around her arm that vanished into the red fabric in front of him. He was wearing a fluffy white bathrobe, for fuck’s sake, was the last thing he was consciously conscious of, as the all-ensconsing veil got thinner and he heard joyful shrieking and smelled and tasted cool pine air and smoke.


* * *


There is a world where everybody wears two watches, one of which is wound arbitrarily far ahead of the other. When asked in a job interview where she sees herself in five years, an ambitious young businesswoman looks at her wrist and replies ‘going to bed’.


The binary clock only has two numbers, a 1 at the top and a 0 at the bottom, with a hand that snaps back and forth every second. Every eighteen months or so it ticks twice as fast.


The next one wasn't a clock at all but a thermometer. On closer inspection however, the numbers running down it weren't in Celsius or Fahrenheit, but in minutes and hours. On the planet Gessel - a noxious oven home only to human miners - the temperature rises and falls at precisely the same time every day, so accurately they can plan their day by it.
"See that only works because they know exactly how hot their planet's going to be at any given moment," said Lady Aesc. "Humans could've had that with Earth, but then you went and fucked it didn’t you?”


“Oh look! We’ve reached The Line.”
“What? Is it over?” Asked Jason.
“Oh no,” Aesc shook her head. She planted herself theatrically on Jason’s side of a line drawn in sharpie across the marble floor. “We’ve established that time and space are essentially the same thing, yes?”
“Yeah,” Jason nodded.
“Over here is the period of your life where you squished or flushed every bug you found in the house,” said Aesc, pointing at her wiggling toes. “And over here…” she hopped over. “Is the period of your life where you start scooping the little beasties up onto envelopes or tissues and escorting them to the garden. You only talk to them sometimes, but you always say hello.”
Jason inspected the wobbly penmanship. “Did you draw this line?”
“It’s a geological feature of temporality itself, I don’t make the rules,” she shook her head. “Sometimes a person just changes. Let’s keep going, then.”
“What if I don’t want to cross the line?” asked Jason.
“Time is all about limiting one’s options.”


* * *


For as long as you think about it, this clock does not tick. The original is unique, the only clock on its homeworld, and is believed to be the work of a blind watchmaking devil. It is protected by monks who meditate in shifts, and the religious keep the clock in their thoughts while going about their steady business. In the cities they recieve distractions from across the sea, and the irreligious have begun to even celebrate their birthdays.


* * *


The Office Clock. The clock on your desktop screen. The clock on your phone that you check, just in case. Those blessed by a nine-to-five will commonly report a sense of time slowing down between around 1pm and 4. This is not an illusion, but conspiracy and wage theft.
(In amongst the temp workers and the zero-hours, situationist stragglers from the failed Time Rebellion have come back to before the first clock-strikes - have come to light a match. Give them a minute, if you can.)


* * *


“In many cultures,” said Lady Aesc, “it’s thought that the gods weigh the contents of a life before they allow passage to the next world.” She arrived in front of a large set of golden scales. “This awful black cube is the amount of time the average person spends with their loved ones.”
“Oh,” said Jason.
“This awful black cube is the amount of time they spent at work.”
“Oh…” said Jason.


The sound of a pre-recorded studio audience turned Jason's head. Along the line of clocks was a sofa in front of a television, just like upstairs in the control tower. Aesc vaulted over and landed sitting down. Jason and Blanche both watched the screen over her shoulders.
A green blob was hoovering in a house with three walls. A door on the right-hand wall opened and an orange blob with a suitcase entered to applause. The orange blob then opened and let out a gargling noise.
The featureless green blob looked exasperated. It gargled back.
The orange blob looked straight at the camera and made a sad but violent sound, like hitting the surface of a bowl of custard with a hammer. The studio audience erupted with laughter, then applause at the character's signature catchphrase.
"What is this?" asked Jason.
“Obsulon Blom,” Blanche sighed. “It's a sitcom that's been running for four hundred years and gets less funny every season."
Jason watched for a few more moments in silence. "So how has it lasted four hundred years?"
"A weird tangle of legal issues. The studio made a typo in the contract, and now it has to be renewed every year or they have to pay the nameless, faceless actors what they’re really worth, and then the whole company goes under."
Lady Aesc was fully engrossed. “The decline in quality is linear, entropic, perfect. Like radioactive decay or carbon dating. You can set your watch against this shit. I love it.”


* * *


Jason felt a chill at the back of his neck. His eyes were drawn to a dark and narrow doorway where he heard a sound like rushing sand. Or maybe he just… felt like rushing sand. With Blanche and Aesc busy looking at a clock that measured time in the dreams of baby penguins, he slipped away.
The doorway led to a chamber filled with hourglasses. Shelves upon shelves of them. Jason looked closer. They all had names on them, and some had more time left than others. Then he noticed one that made his heart stop.
It was labelled 'Jason Jackson.'
Jason shut his eyes, trying not to think about what he'd seen. He peeped out from behind a hand. He still had plenty of sand left, but what was unmistakably the majority of it was already gone.
Then he flipped it upside down.
"Jason!?" shouted Lady Aesc.
"Be right there!" Jason replied. He began to hurry out. Then he stopped.
He walked backwards to his hourglass, then turned back to watch his sand flow in the opposite direction.
Slowly, he picked it up. He hesitated. Then he placed it down on its side.
The sand in the top half stayed in the top half, and the sand in the bottom half stayed in the bottom. His hourglass was at rest. After a long pause, Jason sighed with relief then returned to his friends, keeping his eyes firmly on the ground as he left.


The pentagonal clock of the Culinarium is based around the five daily meals, recommended to the people of Valisto Sett by the Interdimensional Chef’s Alliance. A hand points towards each of the day's five meals, in turn arranged along its five sides. In the native language of Valisto Sett, these are havvyer (post-wake), hev'noor (pre-work), hej'da'en (mid-meal), kasta'falsh'ed'nul (the closest translation for which is 'the gluttony zone'), and finally ''''''''''''''''d'''' (believed to be the Valistese teatime).


“They buggered up the clocks in Venice,” said Aesculapius, as she led them into the room with a whole clock tower on a lake. ‘This is a holographic clipping from the city in the early 21st century. Usually you can’t see it because the water’s too wobbly and it only affects old native clocks, but look.”
She pointed at the clock high above them, and then at the clock in the reflection quite far below. The clock above read eleven minutes past three, and the clock below read 9:41. “When they were building Venice, see,” Aesculapius explained, “they forgot to actually reflect the clock faces on the water and just rotated them, so if it’s 7:16 here it’s 4:44 over there, if it’s 6:45 in one Venice it’s 6:15 in another. The only thing the two Venices agree on are six o’ clock and twelve.”
“So I get the whole multiverse thing,” said Jason, “but are you saying that Earth has two Venices, built on either side of the same lagoon?”
“Earth has a lot of Venices,” Aesc smiled.
“Do they know about eachother?”
“It’s… tense, in twentysomethingteen,” she said, checking the informational plaque which was for some reason printed in both English and Scots Gaelic. “The sea levels are rising, and each Venice threatens to rush in and overwhelm the other with new words and new ways of living, but mostly they maintain their uneasy peace. We could go there and you could watch from across the canals where the streets border the surface of the water: the same merchant shouting over herself, two suntanned old men negotiating their bikes in the same parking spot, boats deploying two platoons of tourists on the same square, pairs of pasty British couples winching on canal steps, Italo Calvinos taking notes on their reflections.


"Is this a clock?" Jason approached a door standing in the middle of the room.
"Everything in here is," said Aesc, getting slowly more excited.
"How does it tell the time?"
Blanche sighed. "I don't know, how do you use any door?"
Jason walked all around it. A pale green door with twelve small glass windows, arranged three by four, stood upright in the room like it was for sale. He turned the handle and pushed it open.
"POOOOOOOUR ME SOMETHIN’ TALL AND STRONG, MAKE IT A HURRICANE BEFORE I GO INSANE. IT'S ONLY HALF PAST TWELVE, BUT I DON'T CARE-"
Jason slammed the door shut. "There’s a concert in there."
"Yes," said Lady Aesc.
"What is this?"
"It's the door Alan Jackson walks through that transports him to a Jimmy Buffett concert in the music video for his 2003 hit ‘It's Five O'Clock Somewhere’."
Jason paused, leaning his forehead on the side of the frame. "And that tells me the time because…?”
"Because it literally is five o'clock somewhere," Blanche finished.
"It's funny because it’s true," said Aesculapius. "Actually in a multiverse, everything is funny because everything is true…" Her eyes went blank and she seemed to get lost in her own mind for a second. "Anyway,” she shook herself awake. “Are you starting to understand time from a Firmament perspective? Everything and nothing are always never unhappening at no times, so just… pour yourself a Hurricane before you go insane, yeah?”


* * *


Jason’s arms trailed by his sides as they left the museum, returning to the vestibule with the stick in the mud. “What even is goin’ on with the stick?”
“See for yourself,” said Aesculapius.
Jason stepped over the little barrier with ‘STEP OVER ME!’ in its blocky stencil font, and ‘WALK ALL OVER ME!’ in ecstatic cursive. He puzzled over the stick and its shadow. “I’m sure this shadow was pointing a different direction the last time.”
“And what have we been doing between now and then?” Aesculapius asked, then she jumped over the threshold to join him and all her smug self-assuredness left her.
“We were in that museum,” said Jason. “Looking at your circles.”
“They’re not all circles!” she protested. “Some of them are squares, some of them are vegetables, some of them are really cool rocks.”
Blanche didn’t stop grinning as she cupped her hands to shout, “but what do they all have in common!?”
“A stick…” said Jason. “A stick is a kind of a vegetable, if you think about it.”
“Oh,” Aesculapius gasped, so softly. “I love watching your mind at work.”
Jason rested his puzzled face on his fist. “And there’s a circle drawn on the ground around the stick, and I suppose if you really… zoom out, mentally, the ground is kind of a rock.”
Aesc gritted her teeth as she stared inquisitively and directly into the sun.
“Don’t stare directly into the sun!” Blanche shouted.
She hid her eyes from the sun, and as she did she wondered if the shadow was hiding from the sun, too. “The shadow will always be hiding behind the stick,” she said.
“And as the sun…” Jason stopped himself, his mind racing. “…as the sun runs around, trying to catch the shadow, the shadow will move so it’s always on the other side of the stick.”
“Why would somebody build this awful thing?” Aesc whimpered. “Why would you make a shadow run in a circle forever?”
“Why would you curate a whole museum of circles?” Jason asked.
“They’re not! All! Circles!” She spat. “Some of them are triangles. Some of them are cannons. Some of them are sexy jars with no lids that someone managed to fill with sand, somehow.”
“But what do they all do!?” said Blanche. “What could you do with such devices?”
Aesculapius gripped her forehead and sighed furiously. “I don’t know. Jason?”
“You could…” He narrowed his eyes at the shadow, and imagined it moving around in a circle at exactly the same speed every day with perfect regularity, except when the sun got lower down in the sky and the shadow got longer as the days got shorter. “You could say, oh,” he grabbed a little pebble and placed it where the shadow met the circle. “When the shadow hits this pebble, somebody shout to make everyone stop what they’re doing and meet me at the campfire. You could put loads of pebbles around the circle, and every pebble would have a different meaning. You could coordinate loads of people that way, you could control people that way.”
“And the shadow only goes one way,” Aesc said, with some deep resignation. “So if you liked the last pebble better, you’re shit out of luck, b… buckaroo.”
“And if the pebbles were small enough you could put down as many as you wanted,” said Jason.
“And if you made the stick thin enough, you could tell the…” she paused, “…current pebble, with near-infinite accuracy. You’d look dead clever. I mean you’d be really, really respected. You could build a world off the back of that, you could build a universe.”
“And if one day you met someone with different sticks and different pebbles…” Jason said, eyes widening with horror.
“You’d just go gangster on them, wouldn’t you?” said Aesculapius, reclining on the sunlit mound. “You’d be like that, ‘aaahh!’, you’d be raging.”
“Wow.” Jason shook his head, just taking it all in.
Aesculapius sighed. “What pebble is it now?”
“I mean… that just sounds like a stupid question now, doesn’t it?”
Blanche rugby-tackled Jason so hard and fast that they both landed on the floor outside of the circle.
“OH MY GOD.” Jason screamed, with the terror felt by babies realising they’ve just been born.
“Now you get it!” Blanche exclaimed, dragging Aesculapius out by her ankles while the ancient time-traveller gripped onto blades of grass, clinging to the simpler world where clocks had yet to happen.


* * *


"And there you have it!" Lady Aesc threw open the doors of the main room and returned to the controls.
"There I have what?" asked Jason.
"Please don't make us do it all again," said Blanche, flopping back down on the sofa.
Lady Aesc danced up to Jason and put her arm around his shoulder. "What we’ve learned, Jason Jackson, is, why, time? Time………………………..time." She made a gesture as if to say 'and that's that'.
Jason slowly nodded. "Time."
"That's it!" Her attention was suddenly drawn away to one of the screens.
"Damn," said Blanche, watching credits scroll up the TV over an image of the river Thames. "We missed EastEnders."
Lady Aesculapius looked up and shrugged. “Why does that matter? You can just watch it anytime on iPlayer.”
Jason felt lost and wandered over to the window. He watched the sun vanishing behind a glass horizon, and at the precise moment that it did the little moon he stood on clicked into a perfect line with its host star and two planets. Four lightyears and a minute in front of him, some internal fuse ran out and a neutron star collapsed and shot out gamma rays forever in both directions. Some nearby planets might just pop immediately, and some wouldn’t see this twinkle for a billion years. Jason thought about how space obscured time, on a galactic scale, but then tried to think about it from another point of view. He thought about the arms of the galaxy, that only ever spun in one direction, and how most telescopes weren’t good enough to see the shadows that planets must cast: infinitely long spokes from the galaxy’s axial light. Time would appear to run faster near that centre, where the orbits of whole star systems could be dangerously short, compared to the stillness at the outer edges. He tried to imagine how this must all look from above the flat disc, the impressionist painting of star-stuff in purple and blue
Right now, in a city made of jelly, a membrane filled with complex proteins just saw the blob it’s going to marry one day. Some ancient ruin got swallowed by a tectonic abyss and a star just exploded into life on the fringe of a coral-reef nebula. More stars and planets than anyone knows about just aligned, secretly, according to logics that have yet to be discovered, and as the spinning solar wheels locked into a closed array of syzygetic constellations, Jason’s belly sounded one long vibratory note, and told him it was time for dinner.

NEXT TIME ON LADY AESCULAPIUS...

Episode 12: THE GREAT COSMIC BAKE-OFF, by James Wylder

“In baking, there is a right answer to get a desired effect. Baking makes sense, even when most things don’t.”
“Had no idea you were a cake philosopher.” 

Legends speak of an artifact from the days before time. A weapon able to unleash death, destruction, and delightful cupcakes.

The Quantum Whisk.

And when Jason and Blanche unearth it - they start a chain of events that will lead them to the greatest baking competition in the galaxy, and also, maybe, their greatest enemy …

Lady Aesculapius Series 1 is part of 10,000 Dawns, and is a publication of Arcbeatle Press.
Lady Aesculapius was created by James Wylder.
All original elements to this story are the property of the author.
All rights Reserved, Arcbeatle Press 2019.
Our cover art is by Anne-Laure Tuduri.

Any resemblance between persons living or dead, fictional characters, and real or fictional events is either co-incidental or has been done within the bounds of parody and/or satire.

You can learn more about 10,000 Dawns at http://www.jameswylder.com/10000-dawns1.html

If you need to catch up, you can find the previous episodes HERE.

If you want to listen to these stories, you can find links to our podcast version HERE, though note that it runs a little bit behind the text versions!
​

 "You smell that, Jason?" Lady Aesculapius asks as she steps off her Factory of Crystal, taking a big whiff. "Smells like capitalism!"
"What's capitalism even smell like?" Jason follows her and immediately trips over his own feet, and he scowls at the ground.
"Oh, you know." She waves her hand dismissively. "Greed, tortured souls, millions of voices crying out in terror and suddenly silenced, yadda yadda." Aesc crouches down, peering thoughtfully at the grass they’re standing on. Jason inspects it too. It's kind of parched and sad-looking. He sighs as Aesc suddenly scoops up a big clump of vegetation and dirt and shoves it her mouth, chewing. She's got a look on her face like she's a judge in a cooking competition. "Tastes like it too," she announces, spitting a blade of grass back out.
"Please don't do that," Jason says, pained. "That's how you get tetanus."
"Don't worry." Aesc stands back up. "I saw it in an old TV show once." She then proceeds to spit repeatedly, rubbing at her mouth with a yuck! noise. Jason just turns to survey their surroundings, ignoring the horking sounds coming from behind him. They're standing on top of a big grassy hill, and if he squints he can see a long, flat building off in the distance. There's a faint hum in the air, like the whine of a large insect.
Please don't let us have landed on a planet full of giant mosquitos, Jason thinks, fervently. "Where do you think we are?" He asks this bit out-loud, looking back over at Lady Aesculapius.
"Dunno." Aesc shrugs, tossing her shrunken ship up in the air and catching it easily. She stuffs it in her pocket. "Probably nowhere good, considering how we got yanked off course." Her face darkens. "Takes someone - or something - with a lot of moxie and elbow grease to do that." She points upwards. "See those?"
Jason follows her finger. "I don't see anything - oh, wait." He narrows his eyes, just barely able to make out the glint of something shiny and black high up in the sky. "Cameras?" He offers. "Flying ones? Could be drones."
"Drones in the sky." Aesc taps her chin, looking thoughtful. "Or it could just be a very tall ceiling. Can't rule that out."
"Right," Jason says, and at that moment someone clears their throat loudly behind them.
"Excuse me." A deep, very polite voice says. "But would you mind perhaps going back to your dressing rooms? We're trying to get a good establishing shot, and I'm afraid you're in the way."
Jason whirls around to see a morose-looking man holding a large boom microphone. Behind him he can see a crowd of very beautiful, very irritated looking people. "Oh, pardon us," Lady Aesc says apologetically. "We'll just mosey on over there now." She links her arms through Jason's and starts steering him towards the building he'd spotted earlier. "Have fun filming!" She yells back at the man at the top of her lungs, waving with her free arm excitedly.
"Ow." Jason waits until the ringing in his ear's stopped. "Do we even have dressing rooms?" He whispers to Aesc as they approach the building. It looks even dingier and more depressing up close, and Jason wonders if it's actually a dungeon or a torture chamber or something. God knows he'd been in enough of those to last him a lifetime.
"No idea!" Aesc says cheerfully. "Why don't we find out?" She parks Jason in front of an incredibly large and surly man standing in front of the door to the building. Jason swallows nervously and takes what he hopes is an imperceptible step backwards. "Hello!" She says, beaming at the man. "We're new here, and we'd like to get inside, thanks."
The man's eyes widen as he takes them in. "Yes, of course," he stammers, fumbling with something in his pocket. "I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that we had new main characters arriving today."
"Didn't get the memo?" Aesc supplies helpfully, and the man shakes his head. "Isn't that always the way it goes?" She clicks her tongue. "You delegate things and then something gets lost along the way and then all of your chickens are out of their baskets."
"I don't think that's the right expression," Jason says, and Aesc stands on his foot. She keeps her charming smile trained on the man, who pulls two cards out of his pocket and hands them over before opening the door.
"Oh! A present, how exciting!" Aesc coos as she turns the card over, studying it. Jason looks at his too. It looks like an ID card, made out of something hard and shiny and vaguely holographic. His picture smiles out at him, the words JASON JACKSON: MAIN CHARACTER spelled out beside it. He blinks. Main character for what?
"What's this-" he starts, and Aesc nudges him with a warning look.
"C'mon, Jason. Let's get to our dressing rooms!" She grabs his hand and yanks him inside. "Oh, I bet they have cake, or, or a bowl of M&M'S®-" She stops short suddenly, and Jason bounces off her back.
"How'd you make that noise?", he asks, but Aesc doesn't seem to have heard the question. She's doing a slow 360, hands on her hips, taking in the interior of the building. Jason follows suite.
"Oh, it's bigger on the inside." Aesc claps her hands together. "My favorite."
Jason just nods, mouth hanging open. Sure, he's no stranger to 'it's-bigger-on-the-inside-than-the-outside', but this is in it's own damn ballpark. There's people, everywhere, producers with floppy hats and megaphones and gophers scurrying around with coffee and film equipment sticking every which way into the aisles, countless scenes being acted out over and over, sets and offices and prop storage rooms stacked on top of each other ad infinitum. Jason cranes his neck back as far as it'll go. The pandemonium continues up, up, 'till it blurs away into the twilight of distance. His first thought is it reminds him of the world's biggest game of Jenga®. His second is if there's a fire marshal in this place, they're going to be having a field day.
"This place is a mess," he starts. "I mean, seriously, what the fu-"
"No swearing allowed in the PG Zone," a prim and proper robotic women's voice floats through the air, deafening. The hubbub around them suddenly stops as everyone in the nearby vicinity turns to stare judgmentally at Jason. "Thank you, and have a good day at Station B9."
"Yeah, Jason, no swearing in the PG zone." Lady Aesc crosses her arms and frowns at him, then bursts out in a fit of giggles, nudging him in the ribs with her incredibly pointy elbows. "Your face! You - oh! Your ID card's changing."
Jason glances down at the card still clenched in his hand. His picture doesn't look quite so cheerful, and the text now reads JASON JACKSON: SIDE CHARACTER. "Did I just get demoted?" He asks, dismayed.
Aesc pats his cheek sympathetically. "Yep!" Her smile drops so suddenly it's like someone flipped a switch. "I think I know where we are," she says under her breath, leaning in. Not that she needed to bother, Jason thinks. Everyone's gotten over their 'let's-point-and-laugh-at-the-new-guy' moment, and the din is back to deafening levels. Jason opens his mouth to ask where, and she puts a finger on his lips, shaking her head warningly. "Not here. Too many ears." She dodges a gopher scurrying by, laden down with an impossible number of coffee cups. Jason blinks when he sees it's an actual gopher. Huh.
"Let's go check out those dressing rooms," Aesc practically shouts, reverting back into adventurer mode. She zips off into the hustle and bustle of the studio, and Jason has to book it to keep up with her.
"Aesc, slow down!" He protests, swerving to avoid a group of costumed actors crossing the aisle in front of him, ducking under a camera, and literally leaping over another gopher pushing a tray. Luckily it's, uh, gopher-sized. Haha. God, he's really starting to hate this place. Jason briefly considers swearing, but remembers his public humiliation five minutes ago and reconsiders it, opting to cuss up a storm in the safety of his head. "Sorry," he says to the gopher, which crosses its furry little arms in irritation. He slinks away awkwardly, forced to amble along at a snail's pace by the crush of the crowd.
"Oh, there you are." Aesc pops out of nowhere, munching on a carrot. "Thought I'd lost you for a sec."
Jason blinks. "Where'd you get that?"
"Oh, this?" Lady Aesculapius takes the half-eaten carrot out of her mouth and looks down at it. "Took it off a rabbit who would just not stop asking me how I was." She shrugs and takes a loud crunch. "Anyway, I found those rooms."
Jason's about to ask where they are when Aesc winks and him and holds out her hand, miming turning a doorknob. He's not entirely astonished when a door appears out of thin air, per se, but he is slightly bemused. Aesc ushers him through the door and shuts it behind them. They emerge in a long, long hallway full of closed doors, each with a shiny gold star tacked to the peeling wood. Jason gets the impression that this hallway goes on forever. At least it's quieter in here.
"Hmm, let's see." Aesc mumbles to herself, skipping down the hallway, stopping occasionally to tap a door with her carrot. "Nope! Not that one! Not that one either. Nope. Nada. Nah - oh!" She raps her knuckles against a particularly unimpressive looking door, grinning. "Found it!"
"You sure?" Jason eyes the door, eyebrow raised. "Looks kinda...seedy."
"Well, duh!" Aesc rolls her eyes like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "What else would you expect?" Jason doesn't really have an answer for that. She flings the door open dramatically and drops into a deep bow. "After you."
"Thanks," Jason says dryly, walking through the doorway and immediately bouncing off an invisible barrier. "Ouch!" He staggers back, clutching at his nose.
"Are you okay?" Aesc grabs his face and yanks his head down, which arguably hurts worse, peering worriedly at him.
" 'm fine," Jason mumbles through squished cheeks. Aesc sighs in relief and boops his nose.


"Good." She turns to the doorway with a frown, brows furrowed, hands on her hips. Jason recognizes it as her best 'take-me-to-your-fascist-dictator-so-I-can-browbeat-them-with-a-speech' look. "Excuse me!" She says, very loudly and sternly. "My friend here is a main character, no matter what you all decided to classify him as, so let him in!" Jason swears he hears the door whine. If it had a tail, it'd be between it's metaphorical legs. "That's better." She pats the doorframe and then bounds inside.
Jason follows after much more cautiously. He doesn't run into anything again, so Aesc's Mom Voice must've worked. It’s dark in here, and he blinks, waiting for his eyes to adjust. As far as dressing room's go, it's pretty shabby, Jason thinks. He’s slightly disappointed. There's a single metal folding chair parked next to a table with a bowl on it. Beside him, Aesc lights up and gallops over to it.
"Ooh, Skittles®!" She exclaims delightedly after the registered trademark sound fades away. Aesc hastily shoves the carrot into a pocket of her tweed coat and takes a big handful of the candy, shoving it into her mouth with abandon. "You want some?" She asks Jason, voice muffled.
"There any of the yellow ones?" He leans forward, peering into the bowl. "I like those."
"I'll take a look - hey." She pauses, frowning. "You hear that?"
Jason cocks his head to the side, straining to hear any noise. "No?" He offers tentatively after a few seconds.
"Hm." Aesc pops another piece of candy into her mouth. "Doesn't matter, I guess. It's just plot convenience."
"Plot what?" Jason asks confusedly as Aesc starts pushing him towards the door. He stumbles out into a dingy little room and does a double take. "Wait, where'd-" He takes a step back into the dressing room, pauses, then steps back out. "Wasn't there just a hallway here?" He whispers in Aesc's ear.
"We just did a scene cut," she whispers back to him. "Now shh! You're bruising the fourth wall."
Jason just hums and nods and decides not to question it. He can hear the faint sound of crying, now, and Aesc leans across him to flip on the light. It looks like they're standing in a janitor's closet, small and cramped and full of various cleaning tools. There's a bench tucked into the corner or the room, and there's a woman curled up on top of it, knees drawn to her chest and face pressed against them. She looks up when the light turns on, startled.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" She jumps to her feet, stammering. "I- I didn't see you there. Can I help you with anything?" She plays with the buttons on the front of her coveralls nervously. Jason thinks she's probably around the same age as him. She's got dark skin, just a shade lighter than Lady Aesc's original body, and dark hair, cropped short. She looks miserable.
"How about, what can we do to help you?" Aesc sits down on the bench and scoots over to the woman, tugging her back down. "I’m Lady Aesculapius, Adventurer Extraordinaire, and this is my companion, Jason Jackson.” She gestures at Jason and he waves. “What's your name?"
"Ezra," the woman begins, then claps her hands over her mouth, looking horrified. "I'm sorry! I shouldn't be speaking to you. It's not my place."
Jason and Aesc exchange glances. "That's nonsense!" Aesc exclaims heatedly. "Who told you that?"
Ezra just shakes her head. She picks up a mop and starts fiddling with it.
"Oh, c'mon," Aesc coaxes. She reaches into her coat pockets and starts rummaging around. "Would some carrot cake change your mind?" She asks, pulling out a plated slice and handing it over.
"Is that the same carrot-" Jason starts, and Aesc fixes him with her sternest look. He shuts up.
Ezra hesitantly takes the cake and then even more hesitantly takes the fork Aesc offers a few seconds later. It's covered in lint. "It's studio rules," she whispers, glancing around furtively. "Extras can't talk to main characters like you. And I'm not even an extra. Not anymore."
"Seriously?" Jason exclaims. "That's bull-"
"No swearing allowed in the PG Zone." The robotic woman's voice booms out again, shaking the walls of the closet and making the brooms and mops rattle. "Thank you, and have a good day at Station B9."
Jason glares at the ceiling. "Piss off," he says, or tries to say. It comes out as a series of bells and whistles instead. His hand goes to his throat. "Are they messing with my vocal chords?"
"Most likely," Aesc says, entirely too cheerfully for Jason's liking. "You've probably been demoted too, but I wouldn't check if I were you. You'd just get depressed." She turns back to Ezra. "Is that what happened to you?"
She just shakes her head and burst back into tears.
"Nice going," Jason mutters to a very alarmed looking Lady Aesculapius.
"No," Ezra finally hiccups out after Aesc has pulled about half a dozen blankets out of her pockets and draped them around the distraught woman. "I used to be a recurring character in one of the WC Teen Drama shows, over in the PG-13 Zone. I didn't have a lot of appearances, but I did get fanmail sometimes, which was nice." She sniffs and dabs her eye with the corner of a blanket. "I came here to visit my girlfriend because she's playing the princess in a new movie, and I thought-" Her face crinkles back up. "I know you're not supposed to have a non-heterosexual relationship outside of the R Zones, but it was just a kiss. I didn't think anyone would notice," Ezra wails, burying her face in her hands.
Aesc pats her back comfortingly, eyes flinty. Jason shivers a bit. He knows that look. "So they demoted you? To an extra?"
"Worse." Ezra sniffles a bit. "A janitor."
"Well, there's nothing wrong with that!" Aesc says brightly. "It's a perfectly respectable and highly esteemed position."
"I know, but not here." Ezra sighs and clutches the mop to her chest. "If you don't have entertainment value, you're nothing."
Lady Aesculapius' face hardens. "I see this place hasn't improved since the last time we were here." She turns to Jason. "Hey, remember when you were a rabbit?"
"I'd rather not think about it." He squints at her, puzzled. "What's that got to - oh." He says the word very slowly, drawing the vowel out as sudden realization dawns on him. A lightbulb appears above his head, blindingly bright. Jason just sighs and yanks on the lightbulb's chain, turning it off. "We're in the Dyson Sphere again? I thought we already took care of those guys!"
Aesc taps her chin thoughtfully. "I suspect it's changed hands. Management. Whatever. Whoever's in charge now, they've somehow managed to merge the old thought bubble-dimension with an actual, physical one, which is pretty impressive." She frowns and puts her hands on her hips. "If entirely unethical."
"Tell me about it," Jason says with a shudder. Thinking about the fact that he's back in the place where he'd been form-shifted against his will and repeatedly pulverized, pummeled, squashed and otherwise subjected to the cruelties life dolls out to a cartoon rabbit is making him sick to his stomach, so he's trying not to do that. It's not really working out that well. The memory of every single bone in his body snapping and then instantly being repaired comes rising up, unbidden, and Jason closes his eyes.
There's a gentle hand on his elbow and Aesc tugs him down. "Jason, sweetie. You're looking kinda sweaty." She's got this look in here eyes like she knows exactly what he’s thinking about, and not for the first time Jason wonders if she's a mind-reader. "You don't have to stay, you know," she tells him. "I know it was hard for you, last time we were here. You can hang out on the Factory. It's fine."
He takes a deep breath and straightens back up. "No, it's okay." Jason gives her a crooked grin. "I'm still in my original body this time around. Just plain old Jason Jackson, who's got opposable thumbs." He holds his hands up and wiggles his fingers, and Aesc laughs a bit. "Much more useful than fuzzy little rabbit paws."
"Aw, but not as cute." Her smile fades a bit as she looks at him. "But, seriously, if you change your mind, let me know."
"Aye aye, captain," Jason says, giving her a snappy salute.
She turns back to Ezra, who's looking completely lost. "Ezra, how did you get here?"
"Oh, well," Ezra starts, taking a quick, nervous glance around. "Mr. Barnum owns station B9, you know. And I don't know how, but he invented a device that lets him look into other dimensions."
"Maybe he bought it," Jason suggests.
"Probably he stole it," Aesc snorts. She flaps a hand at Ezra. "Sorry, go on."
"Anyway, if he sees someone he thinks looks interesting, he basically, um? Takes you out of your universe and brings you here," Ezra concludes, sighing heavily. "I used to be a deep-space miner in my original universe."
"So, kidnapping." Aesc states, flatly. "What if you don't want to be here? What if you want to go back home?"
"You have to pay for a ticket." Ezra's mouth twists to the side and she starts plucking at the mop strands. "I was saving up, back before I met Gabriele. She's from a different dimension, and if I left I'd never see her again. I mean, I'd probably see the Gabriele in my dimension, but she wouldn't be the same, you know?" She shrugs and sighs again. "It's complicated."
Aesc discretely wipes a tear from her eye and pulls a pen and pad of paper out of her coat, scribbling something down on it. "Let's add extortion to Barnum's list of crimes," she tells Jason. "Oh, and maybe murder." She writes another word. "I have a feeling an underling is going to come bursting in here any minute and try and drag us to their boss, because this guy is a total despot-"
She cuts off as a door on the other side of the closet creaks open and three very large, very muscular men in black suits and sunglasses enter. Jason points at them. "Was that door there before?"
"Never mind that!" Aesc sounds scandalized. "Where's the class? Where's the pizazz? FBI-agent-lookalikes, really? That's so twenty-first century." She rolls her eyes. "I expected better of someone named Barnum."
"Mr. Barnum would like you to come with us, please," one of the men says in a surprisingly polite and melodic voice.
"Nah, I don't think so. We'll find our own way there." Aesc jumps to her feet and starts patting down her coat pockets, growing increasingly frantic. "My Factory!" She gasps about three minutes of impromptu dance movements later, all watched in complete silence by the rest of the closet's occupants. "It's gone!"
Jason does his best to look at both her and the goons at the same time. It just makes his eyes hurt, so he gives up and focuses on Aesc. "Gone? How? Did you lose it?"
"No." Her face is pinched up in fury. "Someone's been messing with the script." Aesc shakes her fist at the ceiling. "Don't you know it's not polite to rifle through a woman's pockets?" She yells to no one in particular.
"But...you're not a woman?" Jason points out, and she scowls at him.
"It's the principle of the thing, Jason! It's rude!" Aesc whirls around and faces the three men. "Well, thank you very much for the offer, we really appreciate it, but I'm afraid we've gotta jet." She whirls back around. "Run!" Aesc shouts, grabbing Jason and Ezra by their wrists and bodily hauling them out a third door that's just appeared from nowhere.
They emerge in another long, poorly lit corridor, doors running the length of both walls as far as Jason can see. "Is this the same hallway we were in earlier?" He puffs, trying to keep up with Aesc's breakneck speed.
"Oh, I don't know," she says back, a bit crossly. "They all look the same." A junction yawns up out of nowhere, and Aesc takes a sharp left. Jason bounces off the corner and grumbles to himself, a series of high-pitched sliding whistles under his breath. God, he can't wait until he can swear for real again.
"If we start doing a Scooby Doo chase I'm out for real," Jason states grimly, and Aesc snorts back a laugh.
"I'll try to avoid it." She casts a calculating glance over her shoulder. Jason can hear the heavy pounding of footsteps behind him, and he risks a peek himself. Christ, those goons can really run. Jason wonders if there's some sort of speed requirement for underlings.
"Not to worry you, but, uh," he starts nervously, "I think our friends back there are catching up."
"I noticed." Aesc twists around another corner and Ezra lets out a squeak as Jason careens into her. He mumbles an apology, daring another backwards look. The men are rapidly gaining ground, and they do not look happy. "Oh!" Aesc exclaims suddenly, voice delighted. "That door looks promising."
Jason turns around to see a single, very ominous door at the end of the hallway. There's a bare lightbulb set in the ceiling above it, flickering wildly, and caution tape covers most of the surface of the door.
"No!" Ezra shrieks as Aesc rips the door open. "It's under construction! It's bricked up! It's-" She breaks off in confusion when Aesc shoves them through the door and slams it shut behind them. They're standing in a dark, slightly musty smelling tunnel. Jason feels something crawl over his foot and he shudders.
Lady Aesculapius winks at them. "Check this out." She points at the door and Jason watches in horror as the knob starts turning. There's a ungodly squealing sound as the door opens, followed by three heavy thunks as the goons run directly into the brick wall that's appeared out of nowhere.
"How did you...?" Ezra's staring at Aesc in open-mouthed amazement.
"Ezra." Aesc puts a hand on her shoulder. "Ezra." She puts her other hand on her other shoulder. "Ezra." Jason intervenes before she can start getting feet involved in this. "Rule of funny." Aesc says, releasing the young woman and booping her on the end of her nose with another wink. She turns to Jason and slaps him on the shoulder. "We're being pursued by mooks! Isn't that exciting?"
"No," Ezra and Jason say at the same time.
Aesc just frowns at them and sticks her tongue out. "Buzzkills, the lot of you." She nonchalantly leans back against the brick wall and pulls a beat-up pocket watch out of her coat, flipping opening the lid and peering at it in the dim light. Something about it obviously displeases her, and she shakes her head, pursing her lips. Jason watches her go through the same routine five more times with a series of increasingly outlandish timepieces.
"Ah, just as I thought!" Aesc exclaims finally, chucking an hourglass at Jason. He scrabbles for it and misses. "It's time we were going. Aw, Jason!" She looks down at the shattered hourglass and kicks at a pile of sand. "That was my favorite one."
"Well, maybe give me a heads up night time you're about to start throwing breakable objects around!" Jason splutters, indignant.
"Fair point." She shrugs and then puts a hand on both of their backs, gently propelling them down the corridor. "I think we should go and have a chat with Mr. Barnum, don't you?" Ezra shakes her head, looking terrified. "Oh, there's nothing to worry about, Ezra," Aesc says cheerfully. "You'll see. Me and Jason depose tyrants and expose unscrupulous CEOs all the time, don't we, Jace?"
"It is kind of our line of business," Jason agrees. He grimaces as he steps in a puddle, sock getting completely soaked. Oh, that's just the cherry on top of this whole situation. He stops short suddenly and Lady Aesculapius bounces off him. "Hey, did you hear that?"
She cocks her head to the side, listening. "No, I don't- oh, there it is." There's a rumbling further back in the corridor, coming from the direction they came. Aesc, Jason, and Ezra all exchange a look. "That's probably not a good sign."
"Wanna bet?" Jason blinks as a cloud of dust rains down from the ceiling, shaken loose by whatever's heading their way. "Maybe we should pick up the pace." He can feel vibrations going up his legs now, and he gets the feeling if they stay here too long they'll all be shaken to bits.
"I've got a better idea." Aesc points at the section of the corridor behind them, and Jason watches incredulously as the walls slowly begin to slide together. "Let's run!" She yells, whirling back around and booking it. Jason and Ezra follow hot on her heels.
"This is ridiculous!" Jason complains around the stitch in his side, huffing and puffing. "This is such a cliché. I can't even be mad about it." He chances a quick look over his shoulder. The walls are moving even faster now, and he gulps, envisioning being squashed between them like a bug. Okay, maybe he can be a little mad.
They come to a fork in the corridor. "This way!" Jason yells, darting to the left, at the same time Aesc shouts "this way!" and goes right. He pounds down his chosen route, alone, and realizes he's made the wrong choice when a section of the floor disappears underneath him, sending him plunging down into darkness.
"Jason! No!" He hears Lady Aesc wailing distantly. "You split up! You're not supposed to do thaaaaaaat-" Her voice cuts off, and Jason resigns himself to a long, long fall.
It ends much sooner than anticipated. He emerges somewhere brightly lit - a quick, frantic look around tells him he's outside, somehow - and ricochets off a safety net held by a group of people dressed up as firefighters. They give him pleasant, polite waves as he's flung back into the sky. Jason gives them a very hesitant wave back before they twinkle away, out of sight.
He ascends a lot longer than he fell. Jason's pretty sure he's outside the same building they'd entered, but every time he passes a floor another one builds itself rapidly, tiny construction workers moving like they've been fast-forwarded. Is he stuck in some sort of reverse Alice in Wonderland thing? Is he just gonna keep flying up forever?
Well, Jason thinks, looking down at the now very distant ground, at least he's not scared of heights.
He's just about to start contemplating the smartness of taking a snooze mid-air when he comes face to face with a man floating by, holding onto an umbrella. "Uh," Jason starts, completely unprepared for this. "Hello?"
The man with the umbrella scowls at him and sticks his free hand out. "Permit?"
"Pardon?"
"Permit?"
Jason blinks at him. "I haven't got one?"
"No permit?" The man squawks, outraged. "This is restricted airspace! You'll be fined for this, mark my words!”
"Look," Jason snaps, entirely fed-up with this whole pocket dimension or whatever the f@#$ it is. "I don't exactly want to be hanging out mid-air, you know!" And I can't even swear in the privacy of my own head, he thinks savagely.
The man's frown gets even deeper. He folds up the umbrella, and Jason instinctively makes a grab for him, expecting him to plummet to his death. He doesn't. What he does do is rear back and proceed to hit Jason in the side with the umbrella, hard, like he's training to be the next baseball champion of Mars.
Jason goes through every minced oath he can think of as he tumbles head-over-heels towards the building. "I hate this place!" He yells at the umbrella man, directly before he's deposited face-first onto the roof. Jason lies there for a moment, wallowing. Stupid rule of funny.
There's a loud banging noise and Jason cautiously raises his head, spitting out a piece of gravel. The rooftop's artfully landscaped, all carefully manicured trees and prim flower beds. There's a multi-level penthouse in the middle of it, made entirely out of glass that Jason still can't see through. Scrolling letters on the side of the suite helpfully inform him he's not prestigious enough for that.
There's a woman standing in front of the penthouse, beating on the door with the pommel of her comically oversized broadsword. She's wearing a flouncy dress, pale blonde hair that's almost the same color as her skin arranged into an elaborate up-do. "Let me in, Barnum!" The woman yells, punctuating her words with solid thwacks of the sword. "I know you're in there!"
Jason struggles to his feet, gravel crunching beneath him. The woman whirls around, pointing the sword at him. "Let me guess," Jason says dryly, holding his hands up. "You're Gabriele?"
She eyes him warily. "Do I know you?"
"Nah." Jason dusts off his pants. "But I just ran into Ezra so, y'know, I figured it'd be the perfect contrived coincidence if you happened to be the girlfriend she was talking about."
"You know Ezra?" The woman's face lights up. "Oh my God! How is she? I haven't seen her since those men in suits dragged her away from my set." She gestures at the penthouse with the sword. "That's why I'm here, actually."
"You're going to storm the house-slash-office of the CEO-slash-despot of an entire bubble universe all by yourself?" Jason asks, more than a bit dubiously. A sudden thought comes to him. "Why isn't there security up here?"
"Well, there was." Gabriele shrugs. "I took care of them." There's a low groan by Jason's feet, and he looks down to see a hand sticking out from under a bush. "And I'm not by myself." She hefts the sword over her shoulder. "They gave me temporary access to lower-level mind control for the role I'm playing, so if I sing, animals will come flocking to me." Gabriele opens her mouth as if to demonstrate.
"No, I'm good, I get it," Jason cuts in hastily before they can get swarmed by a horde of chipmunks or rats or whatever. "I believe you. So." He puts his hands on his hips and kicks at a rock idly. "What's the plan?"
Gabriele stares at him. "You're going to help me? Really? I don't even know your name."
"It's Jason. Jason Jackson-" he digs his ID card out of his pocket and squints at it with a scowl "-extra." Looks like he got demoted again. "It's not like there's much else for me to do," Jason adds, "so I might as well. Plus, it's kinda my thing. Uh, our thing. My friends and I sort of travel around helping out people, I guess."
Gabriele beams and a chorus of angels starts singing. Jason half-twists around, glancing around the roof, but there's nobody there. Well, she's playing a princess, Jason reasons. Figures she'd have her own in-built sound effects. "Thanks. I've been trying to beat this door down for the past hour, but it's a lot sturdier than it looks." She lightly pokes the door with her finger and it falls off its hinges, inwards, sending up a puff of dust as it lands with a solid thump.
Jason and Gabriele blink at each other.
"Rule of funny?" He offers, lamely.
"I'll take it." Gabriele hikes up her dress and runs into the penthouse shrieking at the top of her lungs, sword held aloft. Jason follows, much less impressively. "Barnum!" She bellows, charging up an incredibly fancy flight of stairs, "I'm coming for you!"
"Hey, what do you wanna bet someone's gonna pull a level and these stairs will turn into a slide?" Jason puffs, jogging after her. He eyes the stairs beneath his feet as he speaks, but they seem to be holding out. For now.
She shoots him a brief glare. "Don't give him any ideas. He already steals enough. Then he copyrights them so nobody else can use them, even though they weren't originally his in the first place."
"Sounds like you got some real issues with this guy." God, he's got a side stitch now. How long does this staircase last?
"You could say that," Gabriele agrees dryly. The stairs level out into a landing, with another staircase on each side. "Darn. Which way?"
"There." Jason points to a lone doorway that's sitting in the middle of the landing, unsupported by anything. It's crisscrossed with caution tape, and there's a large UNDER CONSTRUCTION sign tacked to it. Jason sprints pell-mell at it, ignoring Gabriele's protests. Hey, if it worked for Aesc, it'll work for him, right? He grabs the doorknob, yanks it open, and-
And that's how Jason Jackson finds himself running full-speed into a brick wall, face-first. "Oh, that's not fair," he says woozily as he slides to the ground and loses consciousness.
He wakes back up very, very slowly. There's an aching pound in his head. Jason's more or less used to that from all of his escapades with Lady Aesculapius. He seems to be tied to a chair, which is also something he's used to. What he's not used to is being tied to a chair in the middle of what looks like a giant circus tent. "Uh," Jason says eloquently, rubbernecking.
Lady Aesc is sitting on a chair next to him, similarly trussed up. "Jason!" She exclaims excitedly, her voice sending a spike of pain through his skull. "You're awake! I've been waiting for you to show up for ages now." She wiggles out of the ropes holding her to the chair and pulls a peanut out of her coat pocket. "Here, have a snack."
"No, I'm good-" Jason starts, but Aesc shoves the whole peanut into his mouth anyway, shell and all. He promptly spits it back out.
"Ma'am, please stop doing that." One of the black-suited, sunglassioed mooks from earlier ties her back up. "That's the fourth time so far."
"Sorry." Aesc shrugs, not seeming particularly bothered by the whole situation. "I get bored easily." She leans over to Jason. "I think we're going to be treated to Mr. Barnum's grand entrance pretty soon," she whispers conspiratorially into his ear. Aesc sits back, a content smile on her face. "I do love a good show."
Jason stares at the tent entrance, waiting for a trumpet fanfare or an explosion of confetti or something. He's vaguely disappointed when none of that happens and a man simply walks in. "Impressive," he deadpans.
"Really?" Aesc shouts at him, slipping free of the ropes once more and crossing her arms. The mook guarding her just sighs and reties her. "Your name is Barnum, for heck's sake! Put some effort in!" She points at the surrounding circus tent with her foot. "I mean, why even bring us here if you're not going to follow up on the theme?"
"Sorry about that." The man stops in front of them. He looks, well - bland. Nondescript, average, ordinary, as if the soullessness of crushing capitalism had suddenly gained sentient form, yadda yadda. Even his clothes are boring. "This was the only set not being used at the moment." He reaches out and shakes Aesc's foot. "J.P. Barnum, at your service. No relation," he adds, winking broadly.
"Relation to who?" Jason blinks back at him, confused. He tries his hand at escaping from the chair, but all that gets him is rope burns on his wrists, so he gives up.
"Never mind that." Aesc fixes Barnum with her firmest glare. "Where's Ezra?"
"And Gabriele?" Jason adds, after a quick look around confirms neither of the two women are in the tent.
"Oh, did you meet her?" Aesc grins at him excitedly before switching back to a frown. "If you've hurt them..." She trails off, leaving the threat unspoken and hanging heavily in the air.
"Oh, relax." Barnum waves a dismissive hand. "I don't have time to waste on little people like them. They're fine. Probably bored out of their skulls in Human Resources filling out all that paperwork, but they're unharmed."
Lady Aesc frowns at him. "Paperwork for what?"
"Think about it." Barnum raises his hands, spreading his fingers. "It's called Human Resources for a reason. The props people are always complaining they don't have enough materials."
There's a very long silence. "Oh," Jason squeaks out finally, grateful he doesn't have a lunch to lose.
"You said they'd be fine!" Aesc snaps at him, face darkening.
"I said they are fine. For now. I didn't say anything about the future." Barnum snaps his fingers and points at her. "It's just how it works in the show business, baby."
"Okay, that tears it!" Lady Aesculapius jumps to her feet, ropes fluttering down around her to the floor. Jason notices her assigned mook doesn't even bother to retie her this time. "I've had enough of you and your stupid little phantasmagoric knock-off Disn-" She makes a choking noise and glares at Barnum. "Did you just turn off verbal access to trademarks?" Aesc asks sourly, massaging her throat.
"Yep." Barnum watches as Aesc bears down on him, seemingly unruffled. "You should be a bit more polite, you know," he adds. "You're a guest here."
"Guest, my a-" Lady Aesc snarls, a cuckoo whistle replacing half her words.
"No swearing allowed in the PG Zone," booms the robotic voice. "Thank you, and have a good day at Station B9."
"Oh, stuff it," Aesc says crossly. She folds her arms at narrows her eyes at Barnum, tapping her foot. "You kidnapped us. We're hardly guests."
"I can't deny it." Barnum shrugs again and pulls a small white ball out of his pocket, tossing it up in the air and catching it easily. Jason's eyes widen. The Factory! "I saw you passing by and I just had to have you." He eyes Jason briefly. "You were a freebie. Good thing, because I wouldn't have paid full price for you."
"Gee, thanks," Jason says flatly from where he's still tied to the chair.
"And I had to have this!" Barnum tosses the Factory again. Aesc makes a grab for it and he yanks it back with a tut. "Uh-uh! This is mine."
"You stole it," Aesc points out, sourly. "That doesn't make it yours."
"Listen, I make the rules here. I make the reality." Barnum snaps his fingers and Aesc is suddenly sitting back on her chair, bound hand and foot. "Whatever I say is law." He puts the Factory on the ground and places his foot on top of it, rolling it around a bit. Aesc gasps, scandalized. "I brought you here and let you run around like fools just to see what would happen, and guess what?"
"I'm not really in the mood for playing twenty questions," Jason says plaintively.
Barnum ignores him. "Ratings went up a whole 2.7 percent! How great is that?" He stops rolling the Factory. "And this marvelous little spaceship! The technology I'm using right now to capture stars is just so tedious. But this...what do you call it?"
"Actoryfay ofway Ystalcray," Aesc replies primly.
"Factory of Crystal? Hmm, very interesting."
"Aw, he knows Pig Latin," Aesc says dejectedly. "Darn."
Barnum scoops the Factory back up. "You know, ever since I bought out this bubble universe from Dyson, I've been looking for the next big thing. Dyson had some pretty good ideas, but I knew I could do better."
"Humble," Jason heckles.
"Shut up." Barnum frowns at him and Jason suddenly finds his lips sealed together. "So I obtained some technology from these Kezarian smugglers from the so-called ‘Utopia Dimension’ who'd hopped here from three realities over," he continues, conversationally. "Now I can look into other dimensions, and if I see someone who looks interesting, I bring them here and make them a star."
"What you're doing," Aesc says with exaggerated patience, "is weakening the fabric of reality in those dimensions. They're already under enough strain! You know how many universes have been deleted so far? Everything could implode!"
"I don't care." Barnum says it so simply that Lady Aesc jerks back like she's been stung. "I only care about the ratings, and the money."
Jason tries to say "at least he's honest," but all that comes out is an incomprehensible mumble.
"The Utopia Dimension could come for this universe someday." She stares Barnum down. "Then what?"
"Oh, I don't know." Barnum strokes his chin. "I was thinking I'd just keep moving it around until there's only one reality left, then merge this bubble with the larger dimension."
Lady Aesc throws her head back and laughs uproariously. It goes on for several minutes, and Barnum looks increasingly annoyed. "That's the dumbest idea I've ever heard!" She gasps out eventually, tears streaming down her face. "And I've heard some real corkers! I'm definitely not sticking around to see that blow up in your face."
"You're not leaving. If you won't cooperate willingly..." He pulls a thin metal rod out of his pocket and lays it across the palm of his other hand.
"Oh, no!" Aesc shrieks. "No, not the mind probe! Please, anything but that!" Jason turns around to look at her incredulously. Surely Aesc can't be begging? She just gives him a huge grin and a big saucy wink in return. She's untied herself again and is holding a piece of paper. "What do you think?" She asks Barnum, waving the paper around. "I mean, the script's pretty weak, but really, it's all in the delivery, isn't it?"
"Give me that." Barnum makes to snatch the paper from her hands.
"Uh-uh." Aesc pulls it back, echoing his words from earlier. "Just let me change one thing." She pulls a pen out of her pocket and scribbles something down on the paper. "There we go." She hands it over to Barnum, who takes it with a scowl.
There's a sudden blinding flash of light, and Jason screws his eyes up, looking away. There's a nasty cracking sort of noise, which sounds distinctly like the butt of a laser pistol being smashed into someone's head, and a cry of pain followed by a heavy thump. The light fades away and Jason cautiously opens one eye.
Blanche Combine is in front of them, standing over Barnum's limp form. She has one pistol trained on him and another pointed directly at Aesc. "You!" She spits out, obviously irritated. "I told you not to leave the Factory until I was done running security checks and what do you do? Leave anyway and get yourself into this mess!"
"Sorry?" Aesc stands up and dusts off her hands. "I got bored."
"Where have you been?" Jason asks, relieved to find that he can speak again."
"I got stuck in there." Blanche nudges the Factory, which had rolled out of Barnum's hand, with her foot. "I couldn't activate the doors until a few moments ago."
"That's because I changed the script." Aesc grins from ear to ear. "I gave us a Blanche ex machina! Get it? Like a deus..." She trails off, grin fading as Blanche stares at her with a stony expression. "Thanks for the save." She claps her hand on Blanche's shoulder, ignoring her scowl.
"Yeah, thanks for the rescue and everything" Jason calls, “but can someone please untie me?"
"Oops." Aesc snaps her fingers and the ropes around Jason crumble into dust. "Sorry about that." She turns back to Barnum and inspects his unmoving body with a frown, hands on her hips.
Jason cautiously approaches and peers over her shoulder. "Is he dead?" There's a nasty looking puddle of blood forming under the man's head.
"I didn't hit him hard enough for that," Blanche says in irritation, re-holstering her pistols. "He's just unconscious."
Aesc crouches down and holds her ear to Barnum's face. She cocks her head to side and reaches out, putting two fingers on his neck. "He's got a pulse," she asserts, standing up. "Now, hmm." She taps her chin thoughtfully. "What should we do with him?" She scoops up the Factory and cradles it to her chest lovingly. "There, there," Aesc croons to the ship, "don't worry, Mama's back."
Jason and Blanche exchange a tired look. Aesc notices it and sticks her tongue out at them. She taps a section of the Factory and the ship expands in a flash of light. Jason's relieved to find they're back in the control room, and he makes a beeline for one of the overstuffed armchairs Aesc had picked up in a flea market on some backwater world a while back. It looks awful and smells even worse, but by God if it isn't the most comfortable thing he's ever sat in.
Lady Aesculapius makes a disgusted noise as Barnum continues to bleed all over her polished crystal floors. "No, no, no, no!" She wails, clutching at her face. "I just mopped!"
"If by just you mean two months ago, sure," Jason calls from his position on the arm chair. She just tsk’s at him and turns to Blanche.
"Blanche, could you be a dear and take our 'guest'," the word's dripping with so much sarcasm that Jason's surprised the room doesn't flood, "to the infirmary so he'll stop making a mess? Then you can lock him in the broom closet or something for all I care. Jason and I have work to do."
Blanche sighs and rolls her eyes. "Fine. But you're not leaving without a weapon this time."
"You know I don't do that sort of thing." Aesc frowns at her.
"Too bad. Here," she calls, unstrapping one of her holsters and tossing it, pistol and all, at Jason. "Catch."
Jason fumbles for it, just barely catching the holster by the end of its strap. "You did turn this off before you threw it, right?"
"No, I thought I'd let it blow your head off," Blanche replies dryly. She stoops down and picks up Barnum, flinging across her shoulder in a fireman's carry. "Set it on stun if you want."
Aesc reaches over and closes her hand around the pistol. "Thank you, Blanche, but we don't need it."
"Just take the damn thing!" Blanche scowls at her.
"Woah, can we swear again?" Jason blurts out, completely failing to read the mood. Blanche and Lady Aesculapius both look at him. He shrinks back into the chair, face flushing. "I was just pointing it out." Aesc sighs and pats him on the head.
There's another flash of light, and then they're standing under the circus tent again. Jason looks down to see the blaster's disappeared from his hands. He glances over at Aesc, and she gives him a wink.
She strides over the the group of underlings, busy milling around with confused looks on their faces. "You there!" She booms, pointing at the closet one. "Do you want to quit your job?"
The mook gapes at her. "...yes?" He says after a while, hesitantly. Then he nods his head with more force. "Yes!"
"What about you?" She swings her finger around to point at the rest of the group. They all enthusiastically agree. "Excellent." Aesc holds the Factory up to her face. "Hey, Blanche! We're going to be getting a lot of guests onboard, so please make sure they're all comfortable." Then she lifts the ship and the mooks disappear in a flash of light.
"So," Jason starts, catching on to her plan, "we're gonna go run around sucking up every single person here onto the Factory? Why?"
"Because they don't belong here, Jason." Aesc gives him a stern look. "Also because, according to my calculations," she pulls a large sundial out of her coat and looks at it, "this place is going to start falling apart any minute now." She sidesteps as a pole supporting the tent comes crashing down next to her, shaking the ground. Jason yelps and jumps backwards. Aesc looks at the pole, nonplussed. "Called it." She chucks the sundial over her shoulder.
"What's going on?" Jason eyes the roof of the tent nervously, ready to make a run for it if anything else starts collapsing.
"Barnum's not hooked into the bubble universe anymore. It's controlled by thought, remember?" Aesc puts her hands on her hips and says, in a mocking impersonation of Barnum's voice, "'I make the rules here. I make the reality.' Typical CEO." She stuffs the Factory back into her pocket. "Listen, we've got to grab as many people as we can before this place shrinks back down to its original size." Aesc pauses, pursing her lips. "Which is probably very small."
"Can't we just- woah!" Jason dives to the side as a herd of gaudily garbed zebras come trampling by him, braying frantically. Aesc pulls the Factory back out and points it at them. "Can't we just like, shut the universe down or whatever?" He asks into the resulting silence. "There's gotta be a failsafe or something!"
Her face lights up. "Ooh, great idea!" Aesc slaps him on the back. "Keep an eye out for any levers of big red buttons. I really hope it's a button. I love pushing buttons. Especially if they say 'Do Not Push'-" She shakes her head, breaking out of her rambles, and takes off running out the circus tent.
"Woah, wait up!" Jason blurts, jogging after her.
They emerge into a large room packed full of desks, extending as far as the eye can see. Probably some sort of office, Jason thinks. At one point it must've been full of the sound of typewriters clacking, given that there's one on every desk, but at the moment it's been replaced with the sound of people screaming and running around in panic as the ground shakes underneath them.
"Excuse me!" Aesc says loudly, dodging a man running by her, wearing a truly ludicrous hat. She hops up on a desk and proceeds to jump from one to the next, slipping and sliding on piles of paperwork. Jason just sighs and follows suit. Guess they're playing The Floor Is Lava.
He pauses for a brief moment to inspect one of the typewriters. He's never actually seen one in person before, and it's kinda neat. Jason crouches and pokes at the keys a few times, chuckling to himself.
"Jason!" Aesc admonishes from a good dozen desks ahead. "This is no time to be playing around! It's a matter of life and death!"
"Sorry." Jason straightens up hastily and catches up to her. "So, what're we doing?" He has to raise his voice to be heard amongst all the pandemonium.
"I'm guessing this is HR." Aesc puts her hands on her hips and starts scanning the room. "Keep an eye out for our two lovebirds, will you? I want to make sure they're okay."
"I'm sure it won't be too hard to miss a woman with a giant sword," Jason says dryly. A particularly violent tremor shakes the floor and he yelps, toppling backwards off the desk. He lands with an oof and a groan, winded. He turns his head to the side and finds himself looking into the eyes of a very familiar person hiding under the desk. "Ezra!" Jason exclaims. "Where's Gabriele?"
"We got separated when this place started going haywire." Ezra crawls out from under the desk, face pale and tight. "What's going on?"
"Ezra!" Lady Aesculapius jumps down and grabs her hand, shaking it enthusiastically. "Glad to see all your internal organs are still in one place!" She pauses, then frowns. "You didn't sign any of this paperwork, did you?"
"Uh-uh." She shakes her head. "After you got captured, some of the guards dragged me here and I ended up at the same desk as Gabby. I told the guards we couldn't sign anything until we read all the fine print. I'm a very thorough reader," she adds proudly.
"And that's a great thing to be. Now let's-" Aesc cuts off as someone runs by her, waving their arms frantically. She heaves a sigh. "Just give me a moment." There's another flash of the light and the room is suddenly, deafeningly quiet. It's almost eerie, the three of them being alone in the endless maze of desks. "That's better. Now let's go find your girlfriend and the big red button."
"The what?" Ezra furrows her brows, confused.
Jason cocks his head to the side suddenly, holding up a finger. "Hey, do you hear that?" He slowly lowers his hand, narrowing his eyes. "Sounds like someone...singing?"
Ezra's eyes light up. "Gabby!" She blurts, darting in the direction of the singing. Jason and Aesc just look at each other and shrug before following.
They catch up to her just in time to see Gabriele, surrounded by a veritable horde of mice and birds, drop her sword and dip Ezra into a deep kiss. "Aww!" Aesc coos, pressing her hands to her face. "How sweet!"
"There you are!" Gabriele gasps when she and Ezra come up for air, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend's waist. "I lost you in the crowd and I was so worried! I - Jason!" She interrupts herself, catching sight of him and Aesc. "You're okay! I thought you might've killed yourself running into that wall like that! Then those goons showed up out of nowhere and took you away and carried me here!"
Jason feels his ears start burning as Aesc turns to look at him. "You knocked yourself unconscious by running into a wall?" She sounds like she's barely holding back laughter.
"Yeah, well - it worked for you!" He blusters, crossing his arms with a huff.
Lady Aesculapius pats his cheek. "Oh, sweetie." She turns back to Ezra and Gabriele. "Have either of you seen a big red button by any chance? We're trying to stop this place from collapsing in on itself." Her statement's punctuated by the floor groaning and bucking beneath their feet. They all make a wild grab for each other and the surrounding desks, trying to stay upright.
One of the mice steps forward. "I have," it says when the quake's faded away.
"Jesus Christ on a rocket! You can talk?" Jason blurts out, jumping back. He winces and waits for the robotic lady to admonish him again. Nothing happens, and he lets out a semi-maniacal laugh. Take that, censorship!
" 'course I can talk." The mouse sounds offended. Its voice is surprisingly deep and gruff and it honestly kinda creeps Jason out. "Do I go around askin' if you can talk, ya big hairless monkey?"
Okay, that hurt Jason's feelings a lot. He keeps quiet, though, refusing to acknowledge the fact that he just got smack-talked by a rodent.
"Oh!" Aesc lies flat on her stomach so she's more-or-less eye level with the mouse. "That's promising news! What's your name?"
"Captain Whiskers," the mouse replies, all gravel.
Jason jerks like he's just been stung. "Uh, you wouldn't happen to have any relation to a certain chain-smoking cat, would you?"
"Nah." The mouse shrugs its tiny shoulders. "It's just a common name for us TV-biz critters, ya know?" It turns back to Aesc and offers a tiny paw. Aesc takes it, delicately, and then shakes it, even more delicately. "I'd be pleased ta help ya out if on the condition ya zap all us animals up in that little ball of yours."
"Cross my heart." Aesc makes an X over the right side of her chest. Jason opens his mouth to ask about it but then decides he doesn't really want to know. "No man, woman, nonbinary folk, child, animal, or photoplankton left behind," she declares, very seriously.
There's an uproarious squeaking and twittering. "Thank ya very much," the mouse intones solemnly. "We didn't much like workin' for Barnum neither." It turns around, little pink tail twitching. "The big red button's this a-way."
Aesc gets to her feet and leads the very motley procession after the mouse. "I feel like I'm the Pied Piper!" She exclaims gleefully, skipping. "Again!"
"Who?" Jason asks. She just shakes her head and presses a finger to her lips, giving him a big wink. Another tremor rips through the ground. The ceiling starts to crack, and they all duck as bits of it rain to the ground around them. The mice squeak in alarm and scatter in all directions.
"Here we are," the lead mouse intones. It stops next to a tiny hole set near the bottom of one of the far walls.
Jason eyes it dubiously. "Gee, do you think you could make it any bigger?"
Lady Aesculapius drops to her stomach again and peers through the hole. "I see it!" She gasps, excitedly. "Oh, that is the biggest, reddest button I've ever seen in my entire life! I need to press it so bad!"
"Well, how're you gonna fit?" Jason gestures back and forth between her and the hole. He looks at the mouse. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to do it?"
"Nuh-uh." It shakes its tiny little whiskered head. "I held up my part o'the bargain. Yer on yer own, now." It stares at Aesc expectantly.
"We'll take it from here, don't worry. ¡Muchas gracias!" Aesc activates the Factory and the horde of mice and birds get vworped away. She puts it back in her pocket and turns back to the hole with a frown, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Gabriele," she calls, "could I see that sword for a moment?”
“Ooh!" She exclaims when Gabriele hands it over. "Hefty!" She swings it around a few times and Jason ducks. He's not sure if decapitation would work the same here as in his own universe, but he's not about to take any chances.
"Be careful with that!" Gabriele says, alarmed.
"Sorry, I just get excited. I love a good sword." Aesc brings the sword closer to her face and furrows her brows, clearly concentrating hard. She presses the fingers of her free hand to her temple for good measure. Jason watches as the weapon first shakes wildly and then shrinks. Lady Aesculapius tosses the newly transmogrified key into the air and catches it again. "Easy-peasy," she tells Jason, inserting the key into the mouse hole.
The wall in front of them winks out of existence.
"Huh," Jason says mildly. "Convenient."
Aesc frowns, putting her hands on her hips. "That's not what was supposed to happen. This place is really falling apart at the seams now." The desks around them disappear as she speaks, leaving them standing in a vast, empty room. "Uh-oh. Better get cracking!"
She steps out onto the metal catwalk that spans the chasm that's now yawning up in front of them. Jason can see the Big Red Button in the far distance, surrounded by blinking, winking neon signs and flashing lights. "You ever consider we might be walking into a trap?" He asks, carefully edging his way along the catwalk behind her.
"I never consider that," she replies confidently. Aesc twists around to look at Gabriele and Ezra, still standing in the empty shell of Human Resources and looking very nervous. "You two just stay put!" She yells, directly into Jason's ear, and he winces. "We'll be right back!"
Jason eyes the open space on either side of the catwalk. The darkness of the chasm is so absolute that he can't make out anything, which is probably for the best. Somehow he gets the feeling there's not going to be any handy-dandy firemen hanging around at the bottom in case he takes a tumble. "I don't like this," he starts, slowly inching forward. "What if-"
The catwalk bucks beneath him and he makes a desperate grab for something - anything. His fingers close around only air and Jason pitches headfirst into the inky blackness.
"Jason!" Lady Aesc screams. He feels her hands close around his ankle and he's jerked to a stop, left dangling upside down. "I got you, sweetie!"
His heart's in his throat and it takes him a few tries to find his voice. "Thanks," Jason calls back feebly. The blood's starting to rush to his head. He hears a click and tries to do some sort of mid-air sit-up, trying to see what's going on."
"Jason, I need you to hold still," Aesc tells him crossly, voice floating out of the darkness. "I'm going to drop you if you keep wiggling."
"Sorry."
"It's okay. I like your socks, by the way," she adds. "Are those the ones I got your for your birthday?"
"Yeah."
"Aww. All right, I'm going to pull you up now." She starts hauling him back up onto the catwalk, and Jason has never been more relieved to be on solid ground. Even if 'solid ground' at the moment is nothing more than a thin strip of metal suspended who-knows-how-many feet in the air.
"Thanks," Jason gasps out, crouched on the catwalk. He's got a firm grip on either side of it in case it gets any more ideas about trying to throw him off.
Lady Aesculapius beams at him. Literally. She's got a lighted mining helmet she's pulled from somewhere perched jauntily on her head. Jason points at it. "Where'd you get that?"
"Wardrobe department." She pats him on the cheek. "Now you just stay right here while I go press that Big Red Button, okay?" Aesc jumps up before Jason can respond and proceeds to run in place for several seconds. "Oh, are you kidding me?" She exclaims in exasperation. "Looks like we're going to have to do this the hard way."
Then she jumps off the catwalk.
Jason chokes. "Aesc!" He yells, expecting her to go plunging down.
"What?" She's standing - floating, he corrects himself, in mid-air.
"You - never mind." Jason shakes his head. Of course. "Go do your thing."
She gives him another big wink, shining the helmet's beam directly into his eyes. "Be right back." Aesc says, and then zips off into the darkness.
The catwalk starts shaking again, more violently than before. Jason yelps and clings to it like it's a long-lost lover. He squeezes his eyes shut. "You can handle this," he mutters to himself. "You've flown through worse turbulence than this. This is nothing. Sure, you don't have any life support or escape pods or-" He shuts up. Wow, this is an awful pep talk.
There's a distant shriek and Jason jerks his head up, heart skipping a beat. Is Aesc okay? Then he realizes it'd been more of a shriek of delight than a shriek of fear or pain. The shaking's stopped as well. Jason sits up, cautiously. He's still got a death-grip on the catwalk. Just in case.
Lady Aesculapius comes skipping towards him, grinning from ear to ear. "Well, I can cross that off my bucket list," she exclaims smugly. Aesc mimes writing a check mark. "Come on!" She holds out a hand. Jason takes it and she pulls him to his feet. "Let's go round up the rest of Station B9's workers."


-


Three hours later, Jason's back in his favorite armchair on the Factory, slumped down in exhaustion. There's a gopher nibbling on his toe, but he can't be bothered to chase it off. Blanche is standing next to him, arms crossed and a scowl on her face. Her beat-up black armor's covered in tufts of fur.
"Gophers?" Jason offers.
Blanche shakes her head. "Zebras," she says sourly. "They cheat at cards."
"Oh." Jason doesn't inquire further.
"Well, I think that went very well!" Lady Aesculapius exclaims from where's she's sitting in the middle of the floor, having a tea party with two elephants, a mime, and a man dressed as a vampire. "We got everyone out of the bubble dimension!"
"Yeah, but what're we gonna do with them?" Jason looks over the vast crowd of people. The Factory had erected more facilities than he's ever seen it make before to accommodate all of them. Most of them seemed to have gotten over their panic and are talking quietly amongst themselves.
"Hmmmm." Aesc frowns. "I suppose we'll have to bring them all back to where they belong."
Jason groans loudly. "That'll take forever!"
Aesc knocks back the rest of her tea and stands up. "I can swing by the Firmament, I suppose. I'm sure I can find a few people to foist this off on." She crosses over to them, dodging a clown on a unicycle. "Hey, I just thought of something!" She slaps her first into her palm and turns to Blanche. "Where'd Barnum end up?"
"Trussed up in the broom closet." Blanche jerks a thumb over her shoulder at the closet behind them. Jason can hear muffled thuds and yells emanating from it. "Fixed up that head wound of his, so he'll live. Probably got a nasty headache, though."
"Hmm," Aesc says again, stroking her chin thoughtfully. "Well, I'm definitely foisting him off on someone. Maybe Mars. I'm sure they've got a lovely little jail cell just for him."
"What about the Dyson Sphere?" Jason struggles to sit up, biting back a yawn. His movement disturbs the gopher and it scampers off with a disapproving chitter.
"Oh, don't worry about it." Aesc flaps a dismissive hand. "It's probably destroyed itself by now. That's the problem with those kind of thought universes. Take the thinkee out and there's nothing to power them, so they just wink out of existence. No, what we should be worried about whether someone is trying to make another one."
"Do you really think that'd happen?"
"It's happened twice so far." She shrugs her shoulders. "Never underestimate the power of greed, Jason. Oh, that reminds me of something completely unrelated." Aesc pulls a large megaphone out of her pocket and holds it to her mouth. Jason hastily stuffs his fingers in his ears.
"Don't-" Blanche starts.
"Can Gabriele and Ezra please come to the front!" Lady Aesculapius bellows, voice magnified tenfold by the megaphone. Jason's pretty sure he sees the walls of the Factory shake. The crowd parts as the couple approaches, holding hands. "There you are!" She beams at them. Blanche reaches over and turns the megaphone off. "I want to talk to you guys," Aesc continues, at normal volume.
Ezra and Gabriele exchange a glance. "We're not in trouble, are we?" Ezra asks, nervously.
"Of course not!" Lady Aesc sounds shocked. "After all the help you gave us? No!" She shakes her head. "I just want to ask what you want to do now."
"Well," Gabriele starts slowly, "I would like to go home. I miss my family and my garden, but..." She looks at Ezra and squeezes her hand. "I don't want to leave you," she tells her.
"I don't either." Ezra blinks a bit, eyes shining. "I don't really want to go back to my universe. There's nothing for me there."
Aesc claps her hands loudly. "Well then, you're in luck!" She points a finger at Ezra. "I did some digging, and turns out you don't exist in Gabriele's universe! Isn't that great?" Ezra just blinks in response, looking startled.
"You're going to give the poor girl an existential crisis," Blanche deadpans.
Aesc ignores her. "Everything's all mucked up right now," she continues. "Threads of reality are frayed and all that. So it'd be no biggie to just drop you off there, if you want."
"Yes!" Ezra blurts. "Yes! Thank you so much!" She throws her arms around Aesc and then does the same to Gabriele, kissing her.
"My family's going to love you as much as I do," Gabriele says when they come up for air, smiling warmly at her.
Lady Aesc ushers Jason and Blanche away discreetly before he can hear Ezra's answer. "Ah, young love." She sighs contentedly. "Well, all's well that ends well. Time to relax!"
She powers on the Factory's control screens. There's a video playing, and Jason peers over her shoulder to get a better look at it.
Lady Aesculapius's face beams back at him, all bright neon and twinkling lights. His own face and Blanche’s appear next to her. Then the faces fade, and a string of words starts scrolling across the screen. Jason reads them aloud.

 "Ugh, reruns!" Aesc complains, and shuts the screen off.

Hundreds of years ago, creatures of immense power arrived at a town, and laid waste to it. Later on, people would talk about great battles of epic proportions. 

They would be lying. Here’s what actually happened.
Two women stood in the middle of a large town square. One was dark-skinned and dressed like a chimney sweep, while holding a big basket of food. The other one was a tall Caucasian woman, with blonde long hair, a black peacock coat with yellow pants, and a haughty and self-satisfied smile on her face.
“Myrrhine,” said the blonde woman. “I’ve had a very good day. Turning that old man into an eel positively improved my mood. I mean, could you have just left this place knowing that he was selling exotic fish on the black market? I couldn’t have.”
Myrrhine nodded. “I agree, Enforcer. He was a really bad guy. But, I think there’s been a problem, Miss Xyli--”
“Please stop calling me miss. Makes me sound stuffy,” said Xylia. “And what’s the problem? Running out of food?”
“I’m a Firmament of Food, I can’t run out, ma’am,” said Myrrhine. Xylia’s eyeroll clued Myrrh that she was joking, and Myrrh smiled uneasily. Xylia was a very important person in Firmament society, but also known to be rather temperamental, and able to hold grudges for a long time. Probably had something to do with being a “Firmament Of Dark Consequences” (Xylia had once explained it as being the personification of “You get what you deserve”.) So she really, really wanted to not mess up her time as an understudy of Xylia—after all, this was one of her tasks as an adherent to the Faceless Ones. But Xylia’s mercurial nature had made this...an interesting adventure.
“So, what’s the issue? Missing your sister?”
Myrrh smiled despite herself at the mention of Aesc. “I am, ma’am, more than you know. But that’s not the problem. Do you hear that rumble?”
Xylia frowned. There was a loud rumble, getting louder. Myrrh pointed out the crowd running into the square, their faces full of anger.
“I think the villagers dislike that you turned their king into an eel,” said Myrrh.
“Should have voted in a better king,” mutterred Xylia.
Myrrh chose not to say that wasn’t how kings worked, and walked forward to meet the crowd. She picked a particularly scrumptious cinnamon biscuit from her basket, and offered it to the man at the front, who had a thick red mustache and a green shirt. “We’re sorry about your king.”
“Turn him back, now!” said Green Shirt.
Myrrh looked back at Xylia, who was inspecting her shoes. Xylia replied “No,” without looking up.
An old woman beside Green Shirt said “He nearly got eaten by a bear! We’ve had to keep him in a tank.”
A boy ran up to Xylia, and said “He’s my father! I want my daddy back!”
“But he can still be your daddy. As an eel, of course, but he still loves you. Assumedly,” said Xylia sweetly. The boy started crying, and Xylia shrugged. “It’s really not my fault your father was taking advantage of his poor subjects’ fisheries. Sorry, kid.”
Myrrh was about to say maybe Xylia should turn the king back, when Green Shirt stuck a crossbow in Myrrh’s face. “Turn the king back, or I’ll...”
Xylia’s face lit up. “Oh, you’re threatening my understudy? Ooooohhhh, are you?”
Green shirt paused. “Yeah, I guess...I am? I’d rather not, but...”
“Oh, Myrrhine! I think it’s time I give these villagers what they deserve!”
Myrrhine’s heart sank. She turned to Green Shirt, and said, “You need to run. She’s about to start...booping.”
“What?” asked Green Shirt.
Xylia waltzed up to the man, and said “Boop!”
Green Shirt laughed, as nothing happened. Then a gnat slammed into his face, and he slapped it away. Then another, and another. He inspected one of the gnats, and realized they were actually mini-crossbows. And then a whole flood of “gnats” rushed toward him. He ran away, screaming.
The rest of the crowd looked at each other, and backed away.
“You’re trying to run?” said Xylia. “That’s cute. Boop!”
She pointed at the old woman. Writing started to appear on her skin. 
“Are these...my tax returns?” asked the woman.
“All the ones you cheated on,” said Xylia. A man was running at her with a sword, and without looking, she extended her hand and booped the man into a laughing clown.
Myrrh could only watch as Xylia kept booping the villagers. She turned one man into a tall wolf-person, another into three short elves, took one young woman and made her old, and transformed one old man into a pimply teenager. Myrrh could only offer food and apologies, as Xylia rampaged through the town.
“Boop, and bibbity-bobbity-boo, and you go a-boop, a bip a bop and we don’t stop—wait,” said Xylia. A young blonde man was bravely shielding three children from her.
“You, I can’t boop you. You’ve already atoned for your sins. Hrmph,” said Xylia. Rolling her eyes, she said “Boop.”
The young man was transformed into a young woman. Looking at herself, the blonde laughed. “How did you know I wanted--”
“I know. Go, you deserved it,” muttered Xylia. “I promise not to hurt the children. Go, before someone sees your physical change.”
“You can’t hurt us anyway!” said a child behind the blonde. “We’re too young to have sins that need atoning.”
“Oh really? Tell me, Ernie, did you steal watermelon from your big sis a few weeks ago?”
“...No,” said the boy unconvincingly.
“A boop on the nose for you!” said Xylia, tapping him softly. Ernie’s skin turned watermelon-red. Xylia looked at the blonde woman and said “Changing skin color doesn't count as 'hurt'".”
“How dare this infernal creature use her witch powers!” cried the town pastor, who had approached Xylia.
“Are you being sexist? Please say yes. I get particularly creative for sexists!” said Xylia, rubbing her hands together. “What else can you cook up?”
The pastor pulled out a modified revolver and shot Xylia in the chest twice with a bolt of electric firepower, killing her instantly.
“You’re using a gun? What sort of a church are you running?” asked Myrhhine.
“Not the pacifist kind,” deadpanned the pastor. He pointed the gun at Myrrhine, but one of the kids stopped him.
“She gave me ice cream. She’s cool,” said a kid.
“I’m very cool, and I have tons of ice cream,” said Myrrh.
“Hmm,” said the pastor. Before he could answer further, a lightning bolt struck him, and he was turned into a small, blue furry mouse-squirrel creature, who Myrrh distantly remembered as the animal mascot of some children’s show, called the Zikacru.
The new body of Xylia flew down from above. This one was still Caucasian, but had harsher, more angular features, with an aquiline nose, and an angry stare instead of the last one’s playful one. Her coat was a dark maroon red, with black pants. She looked down at the Zika-pastor, and said “Boop.”
Then she looked at Myrrh, and grinned. Myrrh felt her blood run cold.
“Let’s leave,” said Xylia. “It’s not really fun anymore.”
“This was your idea of fun?” asked Ernie.
“Okay, where are we going next?” asked Myrrh.
“Someplace not here,” said Xylia.
“Can I get some ice cream first? Vanilla?” asked Ernie.
“Yeah, sure. Let me get my bask--”
“LOL Nope,” said Xylia, who snapped her fingers, and the two Firmament were gone.
That should have been that, except the old body of Xylia was left behind.
“What do we do with that?” asked the tax-return old woman.
“Chuck it in the sea,” said one voice.
“No, let’s bury it,” said another. He sounded authoritative, so they did that.
Had the pastor been in human form, he could have told them that burial might very well lead to a curse. Of course, he was a Zikacru, and no one listened to his zika-zikas.
And so, the body of the Firmament of Dark Consequences spread its influence into the ground of the planet, infecting its water supply and the crops for countless years…
Then, someone dug it up.

* * *

Year: 2017

“Wake up, Aria.”
Ariadne shifted in her bed uncomfortably. She slept hard at the best of times, and the past few days had tuckered her out. Elfyr’s blade was pulsing slowly inside her arm, threatening to irritate her into waking up, and she was not having that. Grabbing the pillow closer, she said groggily, “Let me rest, Dory. Get Percy to fix whatever’s wrong.”
“Aria, Trevor’s number’s gone to 0.”
Aria’s eyes flew open. Elfyr began to alight within her, and she jumped out of the bed, seeing Dory’s scared face looking at her. “Where is he?”
“At his girlfriend’s house. He just texted me,” said Dory.
“I thought I told you all to stay here,” Ariadne replied. She threw on a jacket and sneakers, quickly stuffed the HRT into her jeans pocket, and started looking for her car keys.
Dory jingled them behind her. “Yeah, I tried telling him that. He slipped away from me.”
“Right. To get laid. Typical,” said Ariadne. “What’s your number? If it’s too low, you need to stay here.”
“Seven. Come on, let’s go,” said Dory. She saw their enthusiastic smile, but knew them well enough to know it was a front. They were actually terrified, and Aria nearly told them to stay home.
Instead, she said “You’ll be the one driving. The other three should stay here, and I need to conserve my strength for fighting the Shade.”
 

Whenever the Shade began to get close to its prey, she could smell it. A wave of sadness would wash over her, clinging to her like mud. An iron aftertaste stuck to her mouth, and it only got worse as she got closer to wherever the Shade was. Aria wondered whether the Shade could sense her, too.
Elfyr’s heat was burning underneath her skin now. The blade wasn’t physically under her skin, but it really felt like it. The sword, which had been with her ever since she and her six friends (now 4) had read the verses from the book on Arduvia Drive, was itching for the fight. As Dory drove her to the house, they occasionally looked over at her, clearly worried. Of all the people involved with this horrific situation, Aria felt the worst for them. Dory hadn’t even wanted to go to Arduvia drive—it was Aria who convinced them to get outside, as a way to loosen up. Everything that happened to Dory from here out was on Aria’s conscience. Felicia and others were already there, of course.

By now, it was a quiet night. The town felt desolate even at the best of times, and with only electric lights to fight the darkness now, it was a wasteland. The drive began to feel like a blur, until--
A man in a white suit, in the corner of her eyes, scurried past. He was only there for a blink, but he had been staring at her. She had lots of practice of being stared at—she knew what it looked like. But when she looked back, he was gone.
“We’re here,” said Dory.
Trevor’s girlfriend’s house looked rather nondescript. Perfectly bland white walls, combined with the latest nano-enhancements, like most houses built in the 90s (Something about that troubled Aria, but she couldn’t quite place why). There was no commotion inside, which was both calming and troubling.
The stink of the Shade had disappeared. Maybe they hadn’t been too late this time. Still, Aria allowed Elfyr to materialize, and let out a sigh of relief. The crystal sword appeared in her hand in a flash, as the heat within her body flowed out of her. The pink hilt glinted in the city lights. Gripping the handle, she nodded to Dory. “Let’s go.”
They slowly walked inside. Clothes were strewn around the room, with a lamp looking broken on the floor, glass shattered here and there. The lights were blinking on and off slowly, making an audible click every time. Dory bit their lip, and looked at Aria. Aria figured it was best to be quiet.
A loud thump echoed from the bathroom.
“Hello? Trev?” called out Dory. No response. Dory glanced at Aria, and the two got ready. Aria got in front of Dory, and slowly opened the door.
A redheaded girl ran out. Dory caught her. “Maria? What happened?”
Maria’s eyes were blood-red, and after a moment, she said “Oh god...I called you both freaks two weeks ago behind your backs, and I kissed Josh yesterday ago behind Trev’s back, and I once wore my mother’s dress when she went on vacation, and I--”
“Maria, where’s Trevor?” asked Aria.
“Trevor...he ran. Left me behind, with that big...shadow...creature…I talked about Alice behind her back, and called her stupid, and...”
“The Shade.” Dory looked expectantly at Aria, who shook her head.
“I can’t heal her now. I need to find Trevor,” said Aria.
“So we just leave her catatonic?” said Dory. “Can’t you fix her a little?”
Aria was about to reply, when she heard commotion outside. She told Dory “Stay here,” and ran outside
Three very strangely dressed people were standing in front of her. One was an annoyed man wearing a wreath of pink ribbon. Another was a white-haired woman with bright blue eyes, and wearing what looked like black body armor And the third one was a black woman with a spherical face, lively twinkling eyes, and an even more twinkling smile, with a colorful costume.
“Who are you?” asked Aria.
“I’m Lady Aesc. The woman beside me is my lovely girlfriend, Blanche, and the other human is our travelling mate, Jason Jackson.”
“Hi. I’m Ariadne.”
“Ooh, lovely name. Oh, and lovelier sword. Anyway, why are we here?”
“I don’t know,” said Aria.
“I thought you said we were asked to be here,” said Blanche grumpily to Aesc.
“Well, I thought we were,” Aesc grumpily replied.
“Excuse me,” said Dory, “but how’d you three get here?”
“See, the three of us had found ourselves hanging out with some old ladies who were running a knitting circle/heavy metal combo—which is my jam--when we found out that they were actually secretly dragons who had been turned to humanoid form as an attempt to hide from some dragon hunter guild. So, I’m like, none of us three are dragon hunters, so we’re cool? But then someone, and I’m not naming Jason Jackson’s name because that would be rude, invited their new best friend, who turns out to secretly have dragon hunter as their temp job...and then we realize it’s not a temp job, he’s actually the leader, so then it gets nasty. Hearts are broken, fists are swung, rap battles are fought. But then, in the middle of that adventure, we get a message to come over to some place for some ritual, and then we get teleported over in the middle of the city. And I have no Foce with me - I’m sure it’ll turn up - so we’re stuck here. Though I have my Quantum whisk! And my spyglass!. So, any idea what’s going on?” asked Aesc hopefully.
Aria and Dory stared, and simultaneously said “What?”
“Yeah, we ask that a lot too. It’s part of the Aesc experience,” said Blanche.
“Seriously, what are you talking about?” asked Dory.
Aesc rolled her eyes, and pointed up at the stars, which spelled out:

​

“There, happy now?” said Aesc.
“What are you pointing to?” asked Dory.

All Dory could see was stars. Aria looked like she was almost reading something at first, but then she snapped out of it, and said “I don’t know how to help you, sorry. Dory and I need to get back home and regroup.”

“There’s a McDonalds down the road somewhere,” said Dory. “It’s on the way. You could come with us.”
Dory could see Aria frown but before she could object, Aesc quickly exclaimed “Awesome! And you can tell us all about this place while we’re with you.”

So Dory drove the group . Aria was fast asleep on the passenger's side, while the three newcomers were in the back seat, looking around. Jason was frowning, as if he was confused by the city. Blanche stared outside, as if she had never seen a street before. She eyed the advertisement for the steam train ride with particular confusion, and possibly fear. Dory wanted to ask her what was wrong, but wasn’t sure if that would be rude. Instead, Dory used their tech implant to quickly send a text to one of the Numbered, Eleanor, letting her know they’d be home soon.
“That,” Blanche finally said, pointing to the Millie Adams’ straw house, “is a straw house.”
“Yeah?” replied Dory. That house had been there for centuries--what was so odd about that?
“In between 2 apartment buildings,” Jason added. “One of which has hologram window panes. Looks a bit...wait, which planet is this?”
“Earth 2,” said Dory.
“Earth 2, huh?” Aesc suddenly piped up. “What happened to Earth 1? I hope it wasn’t global warming.”
“There’s never been an Earth 1,” said Dory, trying to keep irritation from their tone. Why were they asking such dumb questions?
“Okay. And you don’t find anything weird about that?” asked Jason.
“Don’t be so judgmental, Jason!” scoffed Aesc. “I’ve been on an Earth 3, and Earth 69 (fun place there, not for the reasons you think), and an Earth 616. Last one nearly had me joining the Av--”
“There’s someone waving at your car from the bushes,” interrupted Blanche.
Stopping the car, Dory could see a familiar face hiding between the bushes of a car in the distance. It was Trevor, the numbered that they had been looking for.
“Trevor, get in the car” Dory called out. Either Trevor couldn’t hear, or didn’t want to move, so they quickly looked back at the three new passengers and said “Stay in the car.”
Dory ran over to where Trevor was hiding, and said “Where have you been?”
“Trying not to get caught by the Shade. Is Ariadne around?” Trevor’s eyes were bloodshot, and his voice sounded fatigued.
“Just in the car,” said Dory, looking back, and saw Aesc, Blanche, and Jason right behind her.
“Sorry, Aesc never stays put,” said Blanche sheepishly.
Before Dory could reply, Trevor grabbed their arm, and tried to press it to his.
“Stop!” said Dory. “Aria said we had to ask each other before we drain off numbers.”
“I don’t have time for that shit. I’m at 0! The big scary shadow freak nearly got me.” said Trevor. “How high is your number?”
“Big scary freak? Sounds interesting. Tell us more,” said Aesc, her eyes growing wide with anticipation.
Dory ignored the weird lady, and checked her wrist number. It was at four. They would need to get some sleep, or eat, soon. The number shouldn’t have gone down so fast. “Why did you let your number get so low?”
“I was busy with Mary. I got too distracted,” said Trevor.
He looked down, like he was guilty of something, but Dory decided not to push it. Checking down at her wrist, she figured that she could spare one number for him. “Hold out your wrist. I’ll give you one, just one, of mine. You’ll have to get the rest from someone else.”
“Yeah, sure,” said Trevor, grabbing their wrist and holding it to his. They closed their eyes, and could feel the energy flowing into him, as their body felt just a little bit more worn down from the exchange.
“Will someone explain to me what the hell is going on?” asked Jason slowly. “What’s up with these numbers? Why are you two holding wrists together? Is this like a...do y’all need a room, or...”
Dory felt her number go down a bit, and said “Trevor, let go.”
He ignored her, and continued draining her. She opened her eyes, and tried to push their wrist away, but he grabbed it closer.
“I can’t let that thing kill me,” he said. Dory felt themselves getting even weaker, their eyesight starting to grow dim, as their knees buckled.
Blanche suddenly pushed him off them, saying “When a lady--person says let go, you let go. Asshole.”
“Thanks,” said Dory, as they quickly checked that their number was back to four. “And lady’s fine, though I prefer ‘they/them’. Just don’t call me ‘he’.”
“Cool. I still don’t know what the fuck is going on, though,” said Jason.
A dark, dank smell crossed Dory’s nose. Their heart leapt in their chest, as they realized what the smell was. Trevor’s face had gone pale, as he too knew what that smell meant. Dory looked around the street, trying to see where the smell was coming from. The streets were blank, with only faint outlines of houses in the distance. But the smell was getting worse.
“Where’s Aria?” repeated Trevor. He scrambled up suddenly. “Give me some of your number. Please.”
“Shut up, Trevor,” said Dory. The miasma was almost choking her, the way it invaded her nostrils and stirred up dark fears. And Trevor wouldn’t stop pleading and whining, like a baby. Dory was disgusted by him, disgusted by his weakness, and the way he was willing to risk the lives of friends just to survive. Why did Aria even let him live? If they left him here...no one would know--
Dory shook their head. That was the miasma messing with their head. “Trevor, let’s get back to the car, now. Aria’ll know what to do,” they said, as turning around to go back. “You three come with.”
“No problem. By the way, there’s mud at your feet,” said Jason.

Something crawled over her pants leg. Looking down, they saw that their feet were covered with mud, and as they walked, the mud followed them. Then, something was pushing out of the mud.
“It’s the Shade! It’s f--” started Trevor, before two bone-white hand pushed out of the mud and reached out for Dory’s legs. Dory kicked their way out of the mud, and started to run, as a large, tall shadow loomed behind her.
“What the fuck is that?” asked Jason, looking at the creature behind her shoulder. Blanche looked faintly disturbed. Aesc’s face lit up in excitement.
“Little bunny,” said the Shade, in the voice of Dory’s mother. “Always questioning, always scared. Run, bunny, run.”
“Oh, fuck no. Fuck this. No, no, you’re gone...the Wolf is gone. Why do you have its voice?,” said Jason, starting to walk backwards. He fell, and kept crawling backward. “The Wolf...you fucking can’t be. Get away. Don’t...”
Dory started running too, but then remembered. She looked back, to see the Shade lumbering toward Trevor, who was backed into a corner. She turned to Jason, and said “Find Aria.”
“No...no...we need to go. Or the Wolf is gonna eat us. Because we’ve been bad. We need to go...” whimpered Jason, rocking back and forth in place.
“Snap out of it!” said Blanche, who immediately launched into a fighting stance and landed a kick on the Shade’s side. The hulking creature barely registered the blow, backhanding Blanche effortlessly.
“The Shade’s just tapping into your fears. Find Aria, or Trevor will die!” shouted Dory to the rest of the team. At the word “die”, Aesc suddenly switched into action, running back to the car. Jason was left catatonic, on the floor. And Blanche slowly was pushing herself off the ground
A quick movement behind Dory’s view made them look backward, to see the Shade’s blank, muck-covered visage staring at her. A sharp blow to the ribs made them fly into a house’s stone walls, and they landed on the floor, the breath taken out of them. Dory coughed, as the Shade watched them on the floor, watching Dory try to get up.
“Let me go. I’ll take her numbers, and you go get her instead. You just follow the number order, right,” said Trevor.
“Trevor, always such a screw-up. Had everything paid for by your parents,” said the Shade, as it slowly smiled at him. “Even your new girlfriend met you because of your parents. Do you really think you can pay off fate?”
“Stop talking in my ex-girlfriend’s voice. Stop messing with my head,” said Trevor.
“If you can get to Dory before I get to you, I’ll let you go. I’ll even give you a 3 second heads-up,” said the Shade.
“It’s lying, Trevor,” said Dory. “Don’t.”
Trevor looked from the Shade to Dory. He gave an apologetic look, and ran straight for them. The Shade walked away from Dory, walking slowly, while humming. Just when Trevor was about to reach them, the Shade turned around and rushed straight to Trevor in the blink of an eye. Its chest opened up to reveal a dark hole within, that seemed endless, and yet something else was in there. It grabbed Trevor, and brought him closer.
“Time’s up, Trevor,” said the Shade. Then it swallowed him up whole, and its chest closed back up, the clothes resewing itself back together. The Shade grew a few inches taller, and its chest got broader, its muscles more defined. Focusing on Dory, it said “You should have tried harder to save him.”
“You can’t get me. My number isn’t 0,” said Dory. A golden 1 shone on their wrist.
The Shade pinned them down with one boot. “So we wait. You’re good at that, waiting.”
“I’m not listening to you,” said Dory.
“You never listen,” said the Shade sharply, in the exact tone her mother used. “You just wait. You let other people decide your career, you let Aria protect you, you let someone else become your friend. When are you gonna actually make a choice? Maybe if you weren’t waiting, maybe you’d actually have a boyfr--”
“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!” said Dory. Their number was getting dimmer.
The Shade’s chest started to ripple, as it grabbed Dory up by the neck, and brought its face close to them. They could smell its breath, and it tasted terribly sweet, like too much perfume. Suddenly, a loud metal banging echoed from its head, as a metal can bounced off the Shade’s head.
“Get off them, Captain Whiskers!” screamed Jason’s voice in the distance.
The Shade turned around, and behind it, was Jason, Lady Aesc, and Blanche, with Eleanor, a fellow Numbered beside them.
And Ariadne was in front of all of them, her crystal sword gleaming colorfully in the moonlight, charging straight at the Shade. The Shade dropped Dory, and dodged the blow, skipping backwards. Aria viciously followed the Shade, slashing at the Shade’s right arm, and hitting flesh. The Shade screamed and punched forward with its left, causing Aria to move out of the way. The Shade caught Aria while she was moving, tripping her feet, and then slammed Aria to the ground, and threw her to the side of a nearby car.
“Aria!” said Dory, but Eleanor, who had ran up to their side, shushed them. Eleanor quickly grabbed Dory’s wrist, and they saw their number increase back to three. Dory wordlessly nodded her thanks.
“Trevor?” whispered Eleanor. Dory only looked away.
“Do you enjoy these fights, Aria?” asked the Shade. “Is this why you protect them? So we can--”
Aria leapt up and spun forward, slicing at the Shade’ chest. In response, the Shade ripped the tire off a car parked in the street, using it first as a shield, then as a battering ram, slamming at her sword until the tire was punctured, and the sword was hitting the rim’s metal. The two combatants stayed locked in a stalemate, crystal against metal, taunting each other as they tried to gain the advantage.
“Are you alright?” Aesc asked Dory. She’d somehow gotten right next to them without being noticed by either them or Eleanor, and looked surprisingly relaxed as the two fighters clashed. “I’m sorry about Trevor.”
“So am I,” said Dory.
“You know, the mark on its back. I’ve seen it before. Can’t remember where,” said Aesc. Thinking, she walked over to the Shade, who had hit Aria in the face and was about to slam her into the ground.
“Hey!” said Lady Aesc to the Shade. The Shade turned around, and raised its eyebrows. “Yes, you. Hello, I’m Lady Aescapulios, Arbiter of Biological Healing, winner of seven pie-eating competitions--”
“I know you who are, Firmament. I am the forgotten dark whisper in the heart, the dying of the--”
“No, no, no. If you cut off my big title listing, you don’t get to finish yours,” said Aesc petulantly. She looked the creature up and down. “So, you just hunt after teen kids, huh? Not to kinkshame, but that’s a weird hobby, Betty. Can I call you Betty? You look like a Betty, and everyone calls you the Shade, but I figure you’d want a better name.”
The Shade stared at her, motionlessly. “You hide your fear behind jokes. I can smell your fear. So could your instructor. “
Aesc scoffed. “Low blow, Betty, low blow. 2 things to know: The jokes aren’t a defense mechanism. I am literally Like This, all the time. Also, why do you have that symbol on your back? Is it just a fashion statement, Betty, or...cause on my planet, that symbol stands for ‘Dark Consequences.’”
The Shade, for the first time Dory had ever seen, looked surprised. Then, it cocked its head, and said “My master wants you to know, Aesc, that you’re going to die--”
Aria slammed her sword into its gut, and the Shade screamed, while burning up into sparks.
“Did you kill it?”
“No, it always comes back,” said Aria. Seeing Aesc’s angry expression, she replied “What? It was gonna say more crap to mess with your mind.”
“Obviously,” said Aesc. “That’s what ‘evil villains’ do. But, it was about to monologue, and monologuing villains give away secrets. For example, who is its ‘master’?”
“No idea. It’s never mentioned a master before,” said Eleanor.
“Hmm,” said Aesc. “You’ve never seen a burnt-up crispy man running around, right? Or a man with a goatee, or a woman wearing a bizarro Mary Poppins outfit--”
Dory and Aria caught each other’s eyes in confusion. Aria shrugged at Dory, with a small grin on her face. 
“...Or a small Asian child, or that one wizard-looking one in charge of war, or the other crispy guy who might be the first crispy guy--”
“Dear, I think they haven’t,” said Blanche. “And I think you’re losing them.”
“Okay,” said Aesc. She sighed. “Time to search for clues.”
“Yeah, about that,” said Jason. “We still didn’t finish searching for the bathroom.”
Dory said “Maybe you guys can go to the safehouse bathroom.”
They looked at Aria who, after a moment, nodded.
“Yeah, you three saved Dory’s life. You can come along,” said Aria.
“Splendid!” said Aesc. She giggled, and said “This feels like the start of an interesting trip. I can always tell!”
“I don’t think it can get any more interesting than it already has,” grumbled Jason.
* * *
“Good to see you chaps!” said a pimply teen boy wearing what looked like some mixture of a Robin-Hood outfit and a knight servant’s clothing. “I had feared that the horrific scary demon monstrosity had taken you all away! Would have filled me with the greatest woe!”
“Oh hell,” said Jason.
Now, considering that he had just had to relive one of his worst memories, a man wearing old-timey clothing and speaking like some sort of...Shakespearian character should barely be a blip on the “Weird Day” scale. But, from his point-of-view, this was just the final stupid pebble in a day of crazy pebbles, that had started with “hey, we’re gonna hang out with old ladies that sing heavy metal”, and just kept getting weirder all day. So, at some point, his mind had to just accept the crazy. Either that, or go crazy, which was feeling more plausible by the moment.
“Ariadne, weaver of the sword, who are these newcomers? Others touched by the Number Curse?” said the man.
“No, Percy,” said Ariadne. “These are guests--
“Lord Percy, please,” he added.
“...Lord Percy, they helped save Dory from the Shade.”
“Yeah, those people saved my ass. Trevor’s...yeah,” said Dory.
Percy shook his head, stroking his beard. “Trevor was never the best lad, but he did not deserve the reaper’s kiss. I will dedicate my next quest to him.”
“Quest?” asked Blanche. He could tell she was as surprised by Percy as he was.

“He means going to get groceries,” said Aria huffily. She was looking around the living room, and then stared at Percy. “Lord Percy, did you use my cellphone to watch Camelot movies? Again?”

Percy gulped audibly. “My dear lady--”

“Don’t ‘my dear lady’ me. Don’t use my phone, Percy,” said Aria, glaring at the man. “Three months ago, you didn’t even know what a phone was! Now you keep using up the charge on mine!”
Percy nodded guiltily, and walked outside, saying “I’ll go tend to my horse, then.”
“Does he actually own a horse?” asked Blanche.
Jason didn’t wait for the answer, instead running to the bathroom, half-wondering if he would find a chamber-pot in there. The walls were rather dirty, with stains here and there, though he noticed the floors were extra-clean. He was reminded of the barracks in his time at Centro
When he came out of the bathroom (no chamberpot, thank god), he heard someone walking up to him, and turned around to see Dory. In the daylight, he could see their face had a small scar running down the side. “Jason, right? Thanks for getting help. You saved my life.”
“No prob. Hey...How did you all get cursed?” he asked.
“Well, Aria and me and like, five other friends all went to this haunted house on Arduvia drive. Well, when I say “haunted”, it was just rumors of ghosts and stuff, and it was Halloween, so...Aria wanted me to get out more, so we all went to the house. It was just quiet, with old busted walls. I remember thinking it was weird there was no dust or cobwebs, though. Anyway, the team went inside, and we told each other scary stories...I remember Felicia. She was really good at spooking us, playing it up with screams...” Dory trailed off. She closed her eyes suddenly, and tears started to come out. Aesc immediately grabbed Dory into a strong group hug, with Jason squirming a bit between Aesc and Dory.
“I...yeah. Gimme a sec,” said Dory. She breathed in and out, and continued “Eventually, we found the basement door. I can’t remember much of what happened then. None of us can, not well. All we remember is a bright white light, and the sound of Aria reading some Latin words out of a book. When we woke up, there were numbers on each of our wrists. And a piece of paper saying “As you all fall into moral decay, the numbers on your wrist shall run to 0. As you breathe, live, and eat, the numbers shall run to 0. And when the number counts down to 0, then your judgment will be at hand. Share your numbers, to delay your fate. Only the Firmament sword can save you. But nothing can save you forever. Thus is the pronouncement of Father Zika.”

“Firmament?” said Jason. He looked at Aesc, who had her arms crossed, and her eyes looking very serious.

“Yeah,” said Dory. “Mean something to you?”

“Oh, that word means a lot of things. Most of them not-so-good.”
“Yeah, we thought it was just dumb stuff. Until Henri’s number went to 0, and the Shade appeared,” said Dory.
“That was the first time I wielded Elfyr,” said Aria. She was wearing a blue shirt and jeans now, her arms skinny and lithe. Jason saw, hanging out of her pocket, a medal of some sort. “When I saw the Shade, I just knew what to do. My sword appeared in my hand. I remember how shiny it looked, being both surprised, and not at all surprised. I just leapt into battling that thing. It didn’t look surprised to see me, either. Like it knew about my sword before I did.”
“May I take a closer look at it?” asked Aesc.
Aria nodded. Closing her eyes, she held out her hand. Blue light rushed out of palm, swirling around until it solidified into a sword. The sword’s hilt was pink-colored, while the blade looked like a crystal thorn. Aesc leaned over, her eyes focusing on a mark on the hilt.
“Was that mark always there?” asked Aesc.
Aria nodded. Jason got closer, and saw some weird loops and shapes. “So this is Firmament stuff?” asked Jason. “Why the hell are they menacing teens?”
“What’s Firmament?” asked Aria. Aesc paced, as Aria vanished the sword in a flash of blinding white light.

“I’m an alien,” said Lady Aesc. “Well, technically, I’m an aspect of the universe given form, but alien is simpler. That sword is tech from my planet. It’s got a Firmament symbol, it’s made out of crystal, and it’s got that twee medieval steampunk feel that my race likes. But, why is it here?”

“...You two are aliens?” asked Dory. They were suddenly grinning from ear-to-ear. “I’ve always wanted to meet an alien. They never visit Earth 2. Um, do you know any alien cybernetic engineers?”
“I know lots. None here, though. Why?” asked Aesc.
“Well...” started Dory. She then disconnected her jaw, and showed it to Jason. Inside, he saw what looked like rusted electric components. From an audio device still in the center of the roof of her mouth, she said, “No one on Earth 2’s been able to fix my mouth. And it’s starting to hurt bad. Zaps me all the time.”

Jason sputtered. “And who made them?”

Dory’s eyes furrowed up. Jason realized that they were frowning. “Can’t remember.”

“Wait. So you’re a cybernetic person, and Percy is from Ye Old Days?” asked Jason. “All in 2017?”
“Yeah. Anyway, can you fix my jaw?”
Jason felt like his own jaw was gonna detach. Aesc just scratched her head. But Aria was nodding. He realized that she saw how weird this place was, too. So why was she the only one?
* * *
Blanche felt like she was being watched. She’d felt like this soon after arriving at this weird town. At first, the assumption was that she had been going through basic nerves. But no, it was something else. Every now and then, she would see someone scurrying out the side of her eyes.  So she was standing outside the small house that Aria’s group were living in, keeping an eye out. So far, all she’d seen were squirrels. Dangerous looking squirrels, but still just squirrels.
Aria walked out of the house. Her hands were in her pockets, and her eyes were straight forward, a steady firm glance. Blanche could recognize the look of someone who was used to danger. Did people see that when they looked in Blanche’s eyes?
Aria noticed Blanche, and waved. “Aesc tells me you’re from space.”

“Yeeeep,” said Blanche. “From lots of different kinds of space. I’ve done a lot of travelling. I used to be a soldier.”
“Had a brother who was in Afghanistan. I think. Funny thing, I can’t quite remember what he looked like,” said Aria. (Blanche didn’t know what ‘Afghanistan’ was, but nodded appreciatively.) She lowered her tone. “No one here remembers their history too well.”

There was a long, cylindrical spire in the distance. The architecture reminded Blanche of a building she had seen years ago. But that mission was not in the 21st century. Everyone here was mismatched, slapped together. It added to Blanche’s nerves. Magic curses, ancient knights, with 21st century people, and 31st century building designs. 
“You see it too. This place feels wrong,” said Aria.
“Yeah,” said Blanche. (From the corner of her vision, she noticed movement. She pretended not to see it.)
“I’ve known it, ever since this curse started. Started noticing people that shouldn’t belong, places that don’t fit. The history books don’t make sense. Dory’s got advanced tech in her jaw, but no one else does. Percy talks like old-fashioned, but he’s the only one. Trevor didn’t even know what Facebook or Twitter was for the longest. And me...I had a medal for running in a marathon, and remember winning...but the medal’s from 2020. ”
“May I see it?” asked Blanche. Aria nodded, and passed it on. The medal looked utterly normal. “You’re sure it’s not from the past?”
(That movement was getting closer.)
“The track team hasn’t let me run. Said I might have an unfair advantage. I’ve been trying to argue with them about it...”
The movement was suddenly behind Blanche. Blanche looped around, and kicked down the mysterious assailant, who was...an old lady.

“Ahhh!!! I wanted to offer you cookies pleasedon’thurtme!” screamed the old lady. She had short hair, and a yellow blouse.
“Blanche, we have a new mission—why is your foot on an old lady’s neck?” asked Aesc.
“Errr,” said Blanche. “I thought the old lady was attacking us.”
“Only wanted to give cookies,” said the old lady. Blanche helped the woman up, who smiled sweetly. “My, my, you’re jumpy. I do hope you’re having an alright night.”

“We are,” said Aesc. “Thank you for the cookies. Blanche, we need to get going—we’re going to Arduvia Drive. To see a house. Well, I am. You should work on Dory’s electronics.”

“Arduvia Drive? That old haunted house?” asked the old lady. She adjusted her glasses. “I used to live rather close to there. It’s not as bad as people say. Name, Valerie, by the way.”

“Actually, it really is,” said Percy. Right beside him was Eleanor, an albino woman dressed in a...flapper dress, Aesc would have called it? Percy eyed the old lady suspiciously. “How’d you find us?”
“I saw your three new friends on the way to this place, and decided to bring some food.”
“Good. Wonderful. Now, who’s gonna drive me to Arduvia?” asked Aesc. Blanche had to smile at Aesc’s enthusiasm—meeting a demon curse had barely scared her off at all. Aesc noticed her watching, and winked.
“You can’t take away the car. We need it,” said Aria. “Especially not to that place.”
“In order to fix this, I need clues. In order to find clues, I need to get to the house where it started. And I still don’t have my Foce, so I need a ride. And apparently this world has no Uber. So, can I use the car?”
“No,” said Aria. “The Shade could come at any point. I’m not gonna have us be unprepared.”
“And we just lost Trevor. And I’m sorry, dear, but we don’t know you,” said Eleanor.
Aesc looked disappointed, for a moment. Then she brightened up, and said “I’ll walk, then. Jason, coming with?”
“Actually,” said Valerie. “I could take you. I know the way. Wouldn’t mind seeing my old house, and you look nice. However, I only have enough space in my little car for one person.”
Those nerves of Blanche’s were acting up again. The old lady looked sweet, reminding Blanche of some stereotypical grandma from a ‘50s sitcom. But she too was out of place. Her smile felt too sweet.
“Thank you, Valerie. I’d love a ride. Blanche, help Dory’s jaw. If you need anything, ask Jason to help,” said Aesc.
“I think I’ll go instead,” said Blanche suddenly.

“Err, I mean, I guess,” said Aesc. She looked surprised. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I’m better at investigation—I was trained for it after all,” said Blanche. “If anything goes wrong, I’ll call you.”
Aesc looked unsure. It took a second for Blanche to realize that Aesc was actually worried for her. She tried to think of a good “placate a worried girlfriend” move, and settled for grabbing her and giving her a quick, but hard kiss. “I’ll be fine. Stay here and talk to Jason. I’m worried about him.”
And with that, Blanche and Valerie drove off.
Blanche looked around in the car. It was tiny, with cramped space, so Blanche practically had to bend over into a ball to fit in. The inside was covered with a mishmash of devices—random wooden fans that stuck out of the dashboard, a ceiling spring that Valerie kept moving up and down for some reason, and a radio operated by touch-screen. It looked like utter chaos to Blanche, but Valerie was comfortable.

“You seem close with that Aesc lady,” said Valerie. She reached into her purse, and Blanche tensed. The old lady rolled her eyes, and took out a muffin. “Want a treat?”

“No thank you. You said that you found our group suddenly? Rather convenient.”

Valerie suddenly lurched the car to the right, and Blanche slammed into the side door. With her head ringing, she glared at the lady, who shrugged apologetically.

“Well, you have to admit that you three seem odd. Dressed in those odd clothes. And Aesc...she looks really out of place. All flamboyance and crazy ways,” said Valerie. A smile played on her lips. “But I suppose it’s nice to have a change of pace here.”

“Does it get boring here?” asked Blanche.
“It’s a bit controlled. Very hum-drum,” said Valerie. “When you get to my age, it’s hard to be surprised.”
“Everyday’s a surprise with Aesc,” said Blanche.
Valerie eyed her for a while. Then, she said “I baked a whole set of cookies for you, and you won’t eat just one? I’m beginning to think you don’t trust me.”

Her sad face dug into Blanche’s heartstrings, but all her instincts told her to be careful. Jason would have said she was being cynical, and she was, but...“I’m very full.” Blanche added an apologetic smile of her own.
Valerie sighed loudly, and then nodded. Clicking one of the springs on the passenger side, she said, “Well then, dear, at least try to sit back. Here, let me adjust the seat.”
Blanche sat back, trying to get comfortable. The seats felt surprisingly soft. “How much farther--”

Pinpricks hit her neck. Blanche jumped up, but immediately, vertigo kicked in, and she fell back down, her muscles paralyzed. 
“Believe it or not, the drug I just injected you with was for Aesc. It’s made to counteract her healing properties. I spent hours getting the drug cocktail just right, so it’s a pity I’m wasting it on you. Are you a Firmament?” asked Valerie calmly.
Vision was getting hazy, and a weird tinny sound rang. Blanche tried to speak, and only sputtering came out.
“Based on your reaction, I’m guessing no. To be fair, I did try to give you the lower dose with the muffin,” said Valerie. She bit her lip, and then picked up the rotary phone in the car, and said “Send in Father Zika. It’s time to end this.”
Blanche tried to get back up, but her limbs just wouldn’t move. Valerie shook her head, and said “There’s a chance you might die, actually. Which would be sad—you seem like a nice girl, though having an interspecies relationship with a Firmament...anyway, don’t die. I have so many questions for you.”

All Blanche could do is swear in her own head, as she was driven to the house on Arduvia Drive. 
* * *

“Come on, Jason,” said Lady Aesc to her sleeping human companion. She poked him with her finger. “Adventure time. Let’s go after my girlfriend.”

Jason opened an eye. “She can take care of herself. She’s good at beating stuff up.”

“She’s good in other ways too. Lots of other ways,” said Aesc, wiggling her eyebrows. Jason rolled his eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that! Well, yes, I did, but not completely. Seriously, I’m concerned.”
“Let me sleeeep,” moaned Jason, covering his head with a pillow.
Aesc stuck her tongue out at him, but walked back into the living room. Dory was sleeping on the couch in the far wall, their jaw now safely reattached. Their faces looked so peaceful, and Aesc wondered if they were dreaming. Aesc had tried to fix up Dory’s cybernetic components, but it wasn’t a lot she could do. Her Foce probably had better tools, but her Foce wasn’t here. Tough luck. Of course, the Firmament of Cyber-Healing could have fixed Dory in a jiffy...not that she’d seen that Firmament since the time she’d accidentally lost track of him. Last she heard that he’d ended up causing a “right-to-self-repair robot” riot on the planet Mars. Sometimes she thought maybe she should go and check on him, well, her now, but life was always too busy.

Thinking of that Firmament made her think of home, and that made her think of that symbol on Aria’s sword. At first, she had assumed that this was just another of Professor Meistras’ plots, but now she wasn’t so sure. Mystical curses and evil boogeymen were definitely her ex-prof’s style, but usually more direct violence was used. This felt too convoluted, too complex. Too many moving pieces.

Not that she minded. She loved puzzles, all sorts of puzzles, including magical murdery ones. Those were some of her favorites, actually. Except for the murder part. Especially when her girlfriend Blanche was out there. Ugh. Why wouldn’t Jason just get up? She closed her eyes. Her senses told her that his stress hormone levels were rather high, far more than normal. She needed to have a “what’s wrong, friend” chat soon—hopefully with Blanche there as a mediator, to help bridge any cultural gaps.
Aesc was so deep in thought that she barely noticed that she had almost crashed straight into Ariadne. “Sorry. Was thinking.”

“Yeah, no problem,” said Aria. “How’s Dory?”

“Fine. I fixed up her jaw,” said Aesc.

Aria nodded. “I worry about them. I worry about all of them.”

“Figures. You’re the one with the sword,” said Aeac. “I once used a sword. Back when I was on a mission with my gf Nemesis—that’s her name, not that she was a nemesis girlfriend, though I have one of those too—I went on a mission to find the old sword of Athena in some Grecian graveyard. Ended up tangling with some girl called Frey, who announced herself as a war queen. We became best buds later, and I heard she joined a pacifist group—am I boring you?”

“No,” said Aria, laughing. “I mean, you’re different than what I’m used to, but no. Go on...You told me that my sword was Firmament tech?”

“Yes. Firmament. We’re...every concept in the conceptual verse has an embodiment, in this set of universes at least. Each Firmament is an embodiment of that aspect of the universe, stuffed in a body and prancing around in sentience. I’m the embodiment of Biological Healing,” said Lady Aesc. She grabbed a cup from the drawer, and poured herself some milk, as Aria looked on. “Every time you get hurt, and your body scars up and knits back together, a part of me feels it. I feel it, whenever it happens, to any person.”
“Wow,” said Aria.
“Wow indeed. I felt it ever since my first body, though usually it’s in the back of my mind--”
“First body?”
“Yeah, Firmament’s change bodies when we die. When I was a young Firmament, I started out as a young girl, later became a young redheaded man, was a man again a few bodies later, blah blah blah. Now I’m out of there, with utterly fabulous bodies that suit me. Like thus,” said Aesc, gesturing to her current body.
“So,” started Aria, “you can just change gender, instantly...Can anyone become a Firmament?”
“No. Not sure we’d let them do it if they could try.”
“Mhhmm,” said Aria. She seemed disappointed somehow, though Aesc couldn’t guess why. Aria stared down, thinking deeply. Then she leaned over and said “I have dreams, sometimes. Where I see a crystal city.”
“So do I. I had a dream where I met a chocolate werewolf--”
“Yeah, but in my dreams, I’ve heard the words Firmament,” said Aria quietly. “In my dreams, I am a Firmament, except I look different, feel different. I have a different name, that I can’t quite remember, and I feel...so merciless, like I could tear the world apart. I can sense every wrong thing that anyone’s guilty about, and know how to punish them. To make them feel the consequences of what they’ve done.”

Aesc suddenly wished that Jason or Blanche was here. “Do you hurt people in those dreams?”

“Sometimes. But only when people deserve it. Funny thing is, I’ve seen you in those dreams. Or rather, your sister, Myrrhine,” said Ariadne. Her voice sounded different now, with almost a different accent. “She… serves food.”

“Oh, she serves a wonderful pound cake.”

“I’ve...eaten them before. In my dreams. Even before the curse happened, I saw the Shade in my nightmares. I saw the sword. It scared the hell out of me, especially since my parents didn’t understand why their little boy was screaming in the middle of the night about being a Firmament,” said Ariadne.
“I’m sorry,” said Aesc. “That must have been terrible.”
“Wasn’t all bad. When I realized how comfortable I felt as a woman in my dreams, it helped me…later on,” said Aria. “And having dreams where I was a badass immortal avenger sort of made the shittier days more bearable. But when I saw the book from my nightmares, I just felt, like a feeling of dread. But also kinda hopef--”
“GUYS!” screamed Jason from the living room. “There’s a blue walking animal mascot in the house!”
Jason was cringing on the back end of a wall, pointing at a waist-high blue ...mouse-squirrel looking creature, with a jagged tail. Its beady eyes were dark black, and its small mouth was shaped into a smile. It reminded Aesc of…

Aesc yelped out “Holy fuck, are you a Pika--”

“No, sinners!!!” screamed out the strange quokka-looking thing. “I am Father Zika! The bringer of your judgment.”
“It speaks!” screamed out Jason.
Dory lowered theirself to its eye level. “Looks kinda cute, too. Hello, Father Zika.”
“I am not ‘cute’, scum,” said Father Zika in a very cute, chirpy voice. “I was once a poor priest, with so much to live for, until you heathens came to my land.”
“Who’s a heathen?” asked Percy, who had just walked in, with Eleanor by his side. Both their  eyes grew wide at the appearance of Father Zika. Looking at Aesc, he said “One of yours?”
“NO!” screamed Father Zika. Aesc noticed sparks coming out of its cheeks. “I am not one of the accursed Firmament. Indeed, one of your kind brought me into this accursed body. From then on, I have been roaming the lands, forced to be a Zikacru.”
“Damn,” said Aesc. 
“That’s cool, dude. Now, could you get to the point of why you’re here,” said Jason, who appeared to be relaxing a bit.
“Idiots. I said already. For your doom,” said Zikacru.
Aria shook her head. “What did we do to deserve doom?”
“You are all part-witch. Especially the sword-wielder,” said Zika.

“Hold on, witches? And how do you know she’s a sword-wielder?” asked Aesc. “Who’s the demon?”
Zika chuckled. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Will you stop speaking in riddles, you furry squirrel?” asked Jason.
“I. AM. Not. A SQUIRREL!” screamed Father Zikacru. Blue flashes of light sparked from his cheeks, and the lights started to flicker. “ZIKA! ZIKA!”
“Oh my god, he’s doing an electric-type attack--” started Aesc in gleeful recognition, before several volts of electricity rammed into her system, and arced into the others. Ariadne and Eleanor were jerked into the ground, while Percy’s frizzy hair spiraled up. Dory screamed, and then stopped speaking. Aesc gritted her teeth, and focused her abilities on healing the microtears on the muscles of the other humans. And for the first time, she sensed that Ariadne wasn’t quite human.

“What the fuck?” said Ariadne, but the only reply was Father Zika ramming into her stomach. Ariadne doubled back, wheezing.
“Oh god, it’s super effective!” Lady Aesc gasped in horror.
“Now, after centuries, I’m ready to have my vengeance!” cried Zika.
Aesc leapt over to grab him, but she slipped as the little animal-man zoomed out of her grasp. “Can we talk about this? I really don’t want to hurt someone who has had to be a blue furball. So tell me—who turned you? You said it’s one of my race—which one?” asked Aesc.
“Who cares. You’re all the same,” said Zikacru. She could tell that he was holding something back, though. 
“Xylia?” asked Ariadne. A mixture of confusion and anger was on her face. “Was the creature named Xylia?”
Father Zikawas taken off-guard. Then he smiled, and said “You’ve seen her in your dreams, haven’t you?”
“What do you know about my dreams?” asked Ariadne. “Tell me what you know.”
Aesc felt someone turn her around, and saw Dory silently tugging at her wrist. Dory’s jaw was limp, and she realized the cybernetics had been affected by the electric attack. Aesc looked at Dory’s wrist, and it said 2.
Ariadne looked at Dory, and said “Everyone, check your wrists--”
“ZIKA ZIKA!” screamed Zikacru again. Aesc grabbed the metal whisk in her pocket, holding it in front of her like a lightning rod, forcing the shock to all go into her. For about a minute, she was completely blacked-out. It was refreshing.
When she awakened, Ariadne had her sword to Zika’s throat. Dory was unconscious, and Jason was angrily holding an umbrella, waving it at Zika.
“I swore to only use this blade on a Shade. Don’t make me a liar,” said Ariadne. 
“Mhhmmm,” said Zika. “Playing at the hero. But you’re just a scared little girl.”
Ariadne suddenly looked up, and Percy’s eyes went wide. Aesc ran to Dory’s wrist, and saw 0.
“It’s here!” said Percy. “I can smell it. It’s here.”
Eleanor looked at her wrist, and was about to speak, when a dark shape from the floor leapt up and grabbed her, swallowing her inside itself.
“I’ve been playing at making a sermon,” said Father Zika, as darkness crept from the outside, and slowly filled Aesc’s vision. A dark muck started to fall from a stain in the ceiling, marking the floor in a muddy heap. “But I’m really a distraction. Compliments of House Arduvia.”
“Everyone, get out now!” said Lady Aesc. To Zika, she asked “Who is House Arduvia?”
Zika smiled. And, from the muck, the Shade rose up.
“Hello, Ariadne,” said the Shade, in Professor Meistras’ voice.
* * *

Blanche opened up her eyes, tied to a chair, and immediately surveyed the area. The large room had a crystal ceiling, with artificial yellow light coming in through the windows. Several glass cases were scattered in the room, each containing a different device, like a big golden funnel, a set of giant scissors, and a red amulet that whispered when Blanche looked at it. So Blanche didn’t look at it.
She was wondering whether she could drag her chair to the shears, when a hologram Valerie appeared in front of her. 
“Hello, Blanche? That is your name, right? Am I pronouncing it wrong?” asked Valerie.
“Not at all. Why do you have me tied up?”
“I figured that you might be a bit jumpy after you woke. Question: do you have combat experience, dear?”
“A bit,” said Blanche, scanning the walls for a camera. It scared her how easy she slipped into her interrogation training. “Do you want a live demonstration?”

“Later. First off, what is your relationship with Aesc? It is romantic, correct?”
“A lady never tells. Why do you care?”
“Well...” started Valerie, and then shrugged. “I’ll tell you. You’ve been so polite. I care, because I want to kill Lady Aesc.”
Blanche smiled. “You’re not the first person to try.”
“Oh, yes, and I wouldn’t even be the first person to succeed. Firmament are slippery fellas. They don’t stay dead. We call them weeds around here—oh, when I say ‘we’, I mean House Arduvia. My company.”
“Arduvia...that was the name of the street where those kids got cursed. Your company did that?”
“Cursed?” laughed Valerie. “They think it’s a curse… ya know, when House Arduvia first came here, this was supposed to be a short-term project. Simply investigate the alien body poisoning the planet’s biosphere, and then leave with the data. But we ended up stationed here for decades. Lucky accident, though.”
“There’s an alien poisoning the planet?”
“Mmmhmm. See, when Firmament come back in new bodies, they leave their old bodies behind. This particular body took a long time to decompose, and its essence leached into the soil. Making everyone there a bit Firmament-y. So, naturally, we took advantage. We studied the effects. The timeline of the planet itself has gone wonky, causing people from all corners of time and space to end up here. It’s rather fascinating.”
Blanche’s wrists were getting irritated from her struggles with the rope. “So, why do you want to kill Firmaments?”

“Oh, you don’t want our origin story, dear. Suffice to say, millenia ago, an angry Firmament came in and wiped out a whole town. The survivors decided ‘Never again.’ And so my company was born. By the way, I see you’re having issues with the straps. ”

The straps slipped themselves off. Blanche got up from the chair, and stretched. “Thank you. Okay, so you’re mad at the Firmament, whatever. But what’s up with--”

Valerie sighed. “Unfortunately, this experiment is nearly reaching its end. Your Aesc is coming in to wreck my narrative, and that won’t do. And our weapon against the Firmament is nearly at hand.”

Valerie disappeared. Suddenly, the glass cases disappeared, and a door opened up on the far side. A laser blast zipped past Blanche, singeing her white mane of hair.
“Now, dear, about that combat experience...” said Valerie from speakers in the walls. “My employers specialize in making weaponry to arm humanity against the Firmament. We’ve been able to scrounge up various Firmament artifacts, but we so rarely test them. I was hoping to use Aesc, but I got you instead. Still, this’ll do.”

Several robots with buzzing saws and axes marched in, glowering at Blanche with red eyes (why do the angry robot soldiers always have red eyes, Blanche wondered). Blanche grabbed an ax from one of the display cases, and immediately felt a sharp ear pain.

“An ax from the Firmament of Hearing Loss. Pretty effective, though if used too long, bye-bye to listening to those, uhm, podcast thingies. See, each object is from a different Firmament, but they all have side-effects. Your job is to defend yourself using these objects. Be forewarned: pick wrongly, and you might die.”

“What the hell?” asked Blanche. The pain was getting higher, and she threw the ax away and grabbed a spear instead. Her hands instantly felt like they were frozen. “This is barely science!”

“Funding cuts means we have to make do with what we have.”

As the robots surrounded her, Blanche said “I hope none of you are sentient.” 

“Of course they’re not sentient. What do you think I am, a monster?” said Valerie. “Speaking of-- wonder how the Shade is doing.”
* * *
When they first encountered the Shade, it had been a small, waist-high creature. T had thought it was a small monkey, but even then, Aria had sensed something was off. Its beady eyes had felt intensely wrong, yet familiar. And then, it attacked Felicia, swallowing her whole. The next time they saw it, it had grown taller, with stronger muscles, and sharper teeth. Each victim it took made it stronger.

Aria got stronger too. Not as strong as the Shade, she felt healthier. She hadn’t noticed at first, and by the time she did, she’d decided to tell no one. Not even Dory. She was determined to use that strength to stop it, no matter what.

As of now, she was doing a bad job of that. Dory was hiding behind her, as the Shade slowly marched forward, leaving decayed grass underfoot. It was huge now, taller than her, a lumbering hulk underneath reams of dirt. Her sword felt warm in her palm, ready to strike. In the distance, she could hear Aesc and Jason fighting with Father Zikacru, but her eyes were focused on the Shade.

“Aria. You should just give up. It’s not worth all the effort to save Dory,” it whispered, in Aria’s own voice. “I know how much it tires you, defending these people.”

“Dory,” muttered Aria. “Take the car keys, and get out of here.”

The Shade charged at Aria, and slammed into her body. It felt like a brick wall had punched her. Aria swung her blade forward, slicing at the Shade’s chest. The Shade dodged, and swung again. If it wasn’t for the fact that her reflexes had also gotten quicker, she would have been laid out flat. Instead, she cut straight into its elbow, and the Shade winced, screeching at the floor.

Aria took a look behind herself, and saw Dory hesitating. “Go!”

“Yes, go,” said the Shade. “Go, Dory, and let other people handle the work.”

Dory’s face looked scared, but they kept going. Aria felt her feet give way as the Shade dragged her to the floor suddenly, leaving her dazed for a moment. The Shade threw her into the distance and her back hit a tree. Then the creature moved to Dory. Suddenly, she saw Father Zikacru flying high in the sky, as Aesc marched forward with satisfaction.

“That’s for being a ripoff of a children’s...oh, who cares,” sighed Aesc. She looked at Aria, and said “Oh, hello!”

“The Shade’s after Dory! Stop being silly, and get them!”

Aesc immediately ran after the two. Aria gave herself two seconds to breathe, and then started running herself. When she got to the car, she saw Aesc in between Dory and the Shade. She heard footsteps, and saw Jason and Percy coming up behind her.
“Percy, give Dory some of your number now!” said Aria.
“I only have 2 left,” said Percy.
“I don’t care!” said Aria suddenly. Why did people make life so hard. If only people would just listen, maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to protect them. And she couldn’t have Dory dying, not now.
“Hey, Betty!” said Aesc. “ Listen, something I’ve been meaning to ask you: you know an Arbiter of Dark Consequences called Xylia? Cause she keeps coming up in this whole curse thing. “
The Shade ignored her, but Aesc kept blabbering.
“Cause, see, I’ve met actual fantastic demonic creatures, and magical beasts. Straight up Harry Potter stuff, yo. I know when I’m meeting a creature of ultimate evil,” said Aesc. “So I know you’re not it, really. Oh, you’re big and bad, but you’re not magic. So, what are you?”
Aria slowly turned to Percy, and said “Share your number with Dory.”
Percy hesitated for a moment. Then he ran straight for Dory’s car, as they were about to drive away.
“Your species’ reckoning,” replied the Shade, and it grabbed Percy mid-run, and threw him into Aesc’s direction. It threw itself into the car, breaking the back window. All Aria heard was the glass shattering, and Dory’s half-finished scream. Then the Shade emerged from the car, smiling, its stomach tentacles rippling as Dory’s form was being sucked in.
Aria could barely speak. The Shade said something, but she didn’t hear it. It was like her body wasn’t even hers anymore, as she ran at the creature, slashing wildly. She felt someone drag her away, and looked back to see Jason.
“Let me go!” screamed Aria.
Aesc jammed her spyglass inside the Shade’s closing hole, causing it to flare back up. Pain shot up within Aria’s own stomach, and she doubled over to the floor.
Aesc didn’t say a word. There was no smile on her face now. Her gaze was focused, as she pushed the spyglass further in, increasing the gaping hole’s size.
“G-going to kill me, Aesc? Your professor would be proud,” said the Shade.
Aesc coldly responded “Another thing, Betty. That hole in your chest? Seems really, really deep. But it’s not endless, is it?”
“Aesc, what are you--?” 
“I’ve been thinking, it’s not even that deep a hole. So...” snarled Aesc, “where are you taking all these kids you’ve been terrorizing?”
She looked back at Jason and Aria, and winked. Then she leapt forward.
“YEET!” yelled Aesc, as she jumped into the giant hole in the monster’s chest, and disappeared as it closed back up.
The Shade stared down at its chest, and shrugged. Looking at Percy, it winked. “Be seeing you around.”
And then it disappeared.
* * *
Jason looked around. Percy slumped on the ground, though he couldn’t blame the guy. And Aria...Aria had an expression that Jason could only describe as utterly broken. She didn’t even seem to notice that Jason was staring at her.
“You hesitated,” said Aria suddenly. She turned to Percy, and stared at him with dagger-eyes. “You hesitated when I asked you to save her.”
“I did not have the time to save the poor girl,” said Percy.
Aria slapped him, hard. “I saw you hesitate. I saw you let her die.”
“Aria, calm down,” said Jason, who realized that was absolutely not the thing to say.
“All this time I’ve spent saving you. All of you. Slaving away, day in and day out. All the times Dory shared their counter with you, even when it was a risk. And you actually hesitated.” 
“Listen, I’m sorry,” said Percy. “I was terrified and I--”
“You think I care? You think I care about how scared you were, when Dory’s dead?” said Aria. Was her skin actually getting paler? “You didn’t deserve your life. You were always a privileged twit. But Dory--”
“Aria,” interrupted Jason. He pointed at Father Zika, who was trying to crawl away. Upon being spotted, it ran, but got cut off by Jason.
“Where’d the Shade take her?” asked Jason.
Zika rolled his eyes. “Should I know, heathens?”
A sharp crystal blade hit the furry mascot’s neck, and nearly drew blood. “If you don’t know, it’ll be your head,” said Aria.
“Try Arduvia Drive,” said Zika. “That seems to where it all started.”
“You’re taking us there,” commanded Aria. Her skin was definitely paler now, and her voice sounded different too.
“And if you try to ZIKA-ZIKA, we’ll drop you off to live in a zoo,” said Jason trying to sound convincing. To be fair, threatening an evil mascot did feel kinda good.
But Aria seemed to be enjoying it even more. A wide smile covered her face, almost too joyful. “Yes...that would be an appropriate consequence. Just desserts, even.”
“...Yeah. Okay, let’s go in the car,” said Jason. “Come on, Perc--
“Percy, you stay here. So I’ll know where you are, if the Shade attacks.”
“And if it gets me before you get to me?”
“I won’t let that happen,” said Aria. “But it’d be what you deserve.”
Was it just Jason, or did Aria’s voice sound like...Captain Whiskers now?
* * *
Blanche clapped two cymbals together, and the two remaining robots in front of her started to dance. She kept tap-dancing, as that was the only way to move while using these things. From her guess, these devices were from the Arbiter of Dance or whatever. Being forced to dance was a rather light side effect of using them, as opposed to the

- Being chased by screaming water ghouls

- slowly turning into a pile of hair

- being forced to hear high-volume crappy pop songs every time she breathed

and other wonderful side-effects she’d dealt with while battling through Valerie’s “tests.” With these last assailants dealt with, Blanche ran down the hall. She’d been getting deeper and deeper into the facilities, occasionally seeing some workers. Besides the death machines, the whole place looked like a normal office. There were a bunch of computers with monitors around, showing images of the town, and at least twenty other cities on Earth 2.
These people were watching the whole planet.
Bursting into yet another room, she came face-to-face with the Shade. But it wasn’t moving, its eyes were closed, and its arm hung limply at its side. Connected to it were wires, labeled “Charging cables”, and on the other side was a computer screen saying “Update 85% complete.”
Blanche spotted some papers. They all seemed to be about toxic thought-patterns, creating psychic feedback loops, animating metal meshes realistically…. Blanche moved on, and saw several bodies under sheets on operating tables. Each body had a label over them, like “Felicia” or ”Eleanor”. Noticing one labeled “Trevor”, Blanche lifted the cover, and recognized the face. Trevor had small tubes sticking out of him, draining his blood.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” said a voice behind her. A man with a white coat on, wheeling in another body, was staring at her.
“Who is that?”
“This one’s... labeled Dory,” said the scientist.
“Are these kids dead?” said Blanche.
“No, we need their biomatter for the big scary-scary over there,” he said, nodding toward the Shade. “That Aria girl’s biomatter was a big help in making it, but we’ve had to scrounge with this kids’ blood since then. They’re alive—wait, who are you again?”
“Who knows?” said Blanche, laying a kick to his head. “You know, people like you make my promise to my girlfriend to not be cruel very difficult.”
She moved the sheet, and was surprised when Aesc jumped out and gave her a kiss.
“Blanche! Guess where the Shade teleported me to! I took a leap of faith, and ended up here!” said Aesc. “Dory, you can come out now!”
Dory came from around the corner. Their face was slightly bruised, but looked fine besides. “Hey.”
Aesc nodded. “Hey indeed. So, weird scientist man, why are you...like, everything you’ve done. Just...why?”

“Humanity, robotkind, everything in the universe needs weapons against the Firmament,” said Valerie suddenly. Her hologram appeared again, standing in front of Aesc. Her usual smile was gone now, replaced with a grim expression. “And this, all this, is what House Arduvia is made for. To defend the people.”

“Bullshit. The Firmament are literally the underpinnings of the universe. Why the hell do you want to kill us?”

Valerie crossed her arms. “It’s funny. This is my first time meeting one of you, and you’re just as arrogant as the records show. Your kind constantly shows up in history, prancing about like jesters, while causing massive damage.”

“Hold on. Aesc doesn’t cause damage. Not intentionally,” said Blanche.

“Really? We have records of your dear girlfriend causing a wave to flood the city of Panos VII. She never even looked back, and she left them all destitute and homeless.”

“Yeah, but the city was filled by people funded by anti-robot bigots, so I didn’t feel too bad,” said Aesc.
“Or when you set a dragon to burn down the Queen of Death’s castle. Guards died!”
“...I’m not sure I remember that.”
“It happened.”
“Yeah, but I don’t think they like died, maybe got crispy-browned, also they were trying to kill me—hold on, wasn’t that like, several adventures ago? You expect people to actually remember continuity? Our readers don’t have time for that!”
“Listen—who cares! None of that justifies terrorizing us!” said Dory.

Valerie sighed, and added “It’s not just the lives ruined, or the communities destroyed. Aesc’s kind come in, and change the narratives by just existing. They count on it. For example, Aesc here, in the back of her head, hopes that I’ll see the errors of my ways, or realize that bigotry against Firmament is bad,or some other happy, healing dosh of an ending. But that’s Not. Gonna. Happen.”
“Wow, that’s rude. Happy endings are lit,” said Aesc. “So, you’re making weapons? The Shade over there seems pretty boring.”
“The Shade isn’t the weapon, dear,” said Valerie. “OPERATION XYLIA, activate!”
The Shade suddenly vanished into thin air.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jason and Aria walked into the house on Arduvia street. The walls looked old, but smelled like pine sol. The wooden floors creaked loudly as they walked in. Father Zika was in front, looking awfully smug. That was one thing that really worried Jason. The other thing was Aria. Her skin was deathly white, and her hair, usually bright yellow, looked black.
“I’ve...failed,” moaned Aria.
“No you haven’t. Percy’s still alive,” said Jason. “And you’ve done your best.”
Aria leaned on the walls. “I need to rest...Dory, they...you know, the only reason that they got involved was because...I talked to them at first because I thought their brother was cute, and thought getting to know the sibling might help—I mean, later, I got to caring about them. Dory, they are so sweet—were….”
Father Zika just watched, smiling. 
Aria’s eyes were drooping closed. Jason tapped her on the shoulder, and her eyes opened, now blood-red. She coughed, and said “I brought Dory to this place. I should have just stayed home. The brother never even noticed...Felicia, Dory, they’re all dead. I knew this place was bad somehow, and I let Dory go ...I failed at being the hero...I deserve...”
“Yes,” said the Shade. It was standing in the shadows of the hallway. “What do you deserve?”
Father Zika giggled loudly.
“Aria, what’s going on?” said Jason. “You don’t deserve anything bad. Don’t listen to them!
The Shade suddenly moved to Aria, smothering her, and then covering her skin. Red light glowed from the union.
“Oh fuck fuck---oh FUCK,” Jason repeated.
“I...see now. I’ve been protecting everyone. Even people who didn’t deserve it...You deserve. You all deserve to be punished,” screeched Aria, black shadows covering her body, as dark tentacles emerged. Two crystal swords appeared in her arms.
A man with a clipboard walked into the room. He looked from Jason to the mass of writhing shadows that was now Aria. “Hi, I’m Jeff, the HR manager of Arduvia. Uh, are you the new hires?”
Aria glided to him, wrapping him with her tentacles. “Ahh, you’ve got sins a-plenty. Boop!”
Jeff’s skin turned green and scaly, as he shrunk, until he was a snake.
Father Zika clapped. “Behold, the first Firmament-human fusion! The first weapon against the demons!”
The Shade-Aria grinned at Jason. “That was fun. Let’s do it to some more people!”
* * *

“You see!” said Valerie. She gestured at the monitor showing the outdoors, where Aria was flying over the town. Everywhere she pointed, houses would burn, or people would transform. “Aria is the product of years of the Firmament of Dark Consequence’s corpse infecting the populace, making them all part Xylia. She is the first hybrid, the first real attempt for the non-Firmament to defend themselves. With her, we will have our first weapon against your kind, Aesculapius!”

“You did this to my friend, to all my friends, just so you could transform Aria into that!” yelled Dory. “You’re sick!”

“That’s, uh...fair. To be honest, we didn’t expect Aria to befriend you all. In past versions of this project, the hybrid usually--by the way, the Numbers didn’t actually mean anything deep, it just let our programmers keep track of who next to send the Shade after—anyway, the hybrid usually ended up leaving the “Numbered” to be picked off by the Shade by at least the third ‘death’. We were surprised when Ariadne actually tried to protect you all. Usually, the hybrid dies either in the middle, or doesn’t reach the final stage. But Aria’s a special lady.”
Suddenly, several more armed robots ran into the room. “That, dears, is my security force. Can’t have you all mucking in here.”
Blanche got into a fighting stance with her cymbals. Aesc, however, looked at the ceiling. Cupping her ears, she nodded.
“What are you doing?” asked Valerie.
“My Foce was light-years away when I first came here. So, it’s been moving as fast as possible, any faster and it would have broken the universe. But, I’ve been patient,” said Aesc.
“What do you mean… Wait, no--” started Valerie.
A large crystal sphere rammed into the wall, crushing the robots in one swoop. Aesc did a little jig, and said “Okay, anyone have a phone?”

Dory nodded, and Aesc took it from them, reaching into her pocket, and then slapped her forehead. “Oof! JJ’s still with Aria. I do hope that he’s ok.
* * *
Just keep following Aria, just keep following Aria. That’s all Jason focused on, as he kept track of the destruction that Aria was causing. She was now in front of a group of screaming girls.

“Ahh, you called me a loser back in high school! Boop you!” said Aria to the girls, who all suddenly started saying “LOSERS! LOSERS!” simultaneously. One of the girls tried to run away, and Aria nonchalantly whispered “Boop” and that girl grew spotty fur and cat ears.

“Aria, you need to stop this!” said Jason. “This isn’t you!”

“I’m tired of not having fun. Of cleaning other people’s messes,” yelled Aria, flying back up into the air. “Now I’m having more fun than I ever had before!”
“Yes, but you sound like a super-villain. A really corny one!” called out Jason. “Listen, I know what it feels like to think you’re a failure. I know what it feels like to just screw up utterly, or to get traumatized and to just run away. Like, I’ve been there. But you’re better than this, Aria. You don’t have to be some evil punisher of justice. Be what Dory would want you to be.”
Aria frowned. For a moment, her tentacles relaxed and retracted, and Jason could see her blue eyes again, as the shadows diminished. Tears started to form on her eyes.
Then a book walloped into Jason’s face, sending him to the floor.
“Silence, sinner!” said Father Zika, as he slapped Jason again with the book. “Retribution is at hand! Do not stop the reckon--”
A familiar white-haired face appeared behind Father Zika, and Zika suddenly felt himself being picked up, and lowered into a box. Blanche held the ceramic container, and said “I always preferred the digital orange dino anyway.”
“Blanche! Hey!” said Jason.
“Jason, hey,” said Blanche. “Hope you’re doing okay. I presume the flying, cackling person in the air is Aria?”
“I tried to talk her down, but Blue McFurry got in my way.”
Blanche grabbed Jason, and then ran down the street, turning the corner to reveal the Foce. Jason scrambled onto the sphere, and saw Dory and Trevor, as well as several other people he didn’t recognize.
“Jason!” said Dory. “Where’s Aria?”
“Up there!” said Blanche. “Foce, to Aria!”
The sphere increased in size, and slowly floated up into the sky, where Aria was booping away.
“Aria!” screamed out Dory. “What are you doing?”
“Who dares interrupt—Dory?”

Aria hung in mid-air, her face in complete shock. “Dory? You’re dead...I saw you die. And Trevor, and Felicia...”

“No, we’re all alive. We were captured by the Shade, and used for an experiment to turn you into some sort of weapon against the Firman...”

“Firmament. This whole thing was meant to turn you into a way to fight them off!” said Blanche. “You were being used the whole time. The Shade was just a way to change you into this!”

Aria floated down to the ground, her hair now completely back to its yellow. Color returned to her cheeks, and the two swords in her hands returned to just one, with her tentacles wrapping into a black dress. “So...you’re all okay?”
She took a deep breath, and then nodded her head, to herself, it seemed. Then she ran up to Dory, and hugged them tightly. It was the happiest Jason had seen her. As Aria talked to her friends, Jason leaned over to Blanche and whispered “Where’s Aesc?”
* * *
Aesc stepped in Valerie’s path.
“You know, how much did you get paid to ruin Aria’s life? Was it worth it?” asked Aesc.
“80,000 in American dollars a year, plus healthcare and measly bonuses,” replied Valerie, with a sad smile. “I didn’t do it for the money, but to defend humanity.”

“I don’t actually think your motive is wrong. Like, I can check my privilege—the Firmament run around the 10,000 Dawns, and we do cause trouble. So, I get it. If I was human, I’d like someone to back up my corner. But you hurt those kids. That wasn’t fair.”

“Dear, I’m 75. At my age, fairness is far down the list,” said Valerie.

In a flash of light, a woman appeared right beside Aesc. Her face had harsh, angular features, with an aquiline nose, and an angry stare. Her coat was a dark maroon red, with white pants. She tut-tutted, and said “So this is the woman who has been using my corpse.”

“You—you’re Xylia?” said Valerie, looking horrified.

“Yep. Aesc here bribed me to come fix this mess in return for her sister Myrhh’s pies. I L-O-V-E those pies,” said Xylia. “And I’m sort of in the middle of sending angry wasps to attack an evil spider-humanoid, so I gotta be quick. So, how do you wanna be punished?”
“I brought you here to fix the town back up, not punish anyo--”
“Then, Aesc, you could have called up the Firmament of “Let’s Be Merciful” or whatever. I’m Dark Consequences, so I gotta stay on-brand. So, let’s see, Val, you’ve endangered children, traumatized people, littered in the streets, tried to kill Aesc...oohh, I know what to do!”
“No killing or painful stuff,” warned Aesc.
Xylia sighed. “Fine, but I want five separate pies of Myrrh. With extra sprinkles.”
“Agreed.”
“What if I want to repent my ways?” asked Valerie.
“Too late,” said Xylia. “Boop!”
Valerie flew into the sky, and then disappeared into a flash of light.

Xylia chuckled. “Don’t worry. I just sent her to a planet filled with clowns. All very friendly clowns, and she’ll be well-taken care of...but she has a clown phobia.”
“That was...okay, I guess that fits,” grumbled Aesc. “Now will you fix the town? You sort of caused this by being lazy and leaving your corpse around.”
Xylia floated in the sky, pulled out a big crystal funnel-shaped horn, and then yelled out a giant “BOOP!” that reverberated through the town.
All the people that Aria had transformed reverted back to normal. The cheetah-girl’s fur fell off, and the “LOSERS” girls stopped yelping. Houses started to rebuild themselves, and the fires evaporated.
Aesc saw the Foce, and noticed Father Zika’s body burst from the ceramic box as he finally turned back to human form.
“It is a holy miracle!” cried out Zika. “You finally freed me!”
“Who are you again?” asked Xylia.
“Aesc!” said Aria, who floated down to the ground. She landed softly on her toes. “You’re okay.”
“Never better.”
“The numbers are gone from everyone’s wrists. I think the curse is over,” said Dory.
Xylia turned to Zika, who was whooping and hollering, and said “Boop!”
Father Zika was now a small purple gargoyle.
“That’s for cursing those kids,” said Xylia. While Zika angrily flew away, she said, “Alright, this was nice. Need to go.”
“Wait!” said Aria. “I’m...I got my sword from you, right? All my powers, and this weird black tentacle dress...it’s from being part-you.”
“Yeah. You probably all used to have normal lives, but my corpse made time go freaky, and you were born part-me. You probably all have a bit of my soul in you, whoops. You most of all, Aria. You’re almost my kid. Ugh, I feel old,” said Xylia.
“So, what do I do now?”
“Dunno. Use my powers for good. Or naughtiness, I don’t care. Though if you’re bad,” said Xylia, and she grinned widely, “There’ll be consequences. Dark consequences.”
Xylia laughed heartily, and flew off.
The whole group just stood there. No one spoke for a moment.
“Okay, so that was weird,” said Dory. “Can we agree that was really, really weird?”
* * *
Dory bit into a scrumptious chocolate chip cookie, as Aria lounged on the couch to the right. Aria had declared to the whole of the ex-numbered that they were going on a vacation. It had been a busy set of days, with Dory catching the other ex-numbered up with what had happened.

Aria had went back to investigate House Arduvia, but all traces of the company were gone. Aesc had promised Dory that she would keep an eye out for them, but she guessed that Arduvia would steer clear of Earth 2 for a while. Blanche and Jason had worked together to fix up Dory’s cybernetic jaw, and Aesc had upgraded it with “self-healing nanites”, so they wouldn’t need constant maintenance.

Aria had spent most of the next few days resting and sleeping. All the stress of dealing with the Shade had finally taken its toll. Her black tentacles still occasionally flared up, apparently a permanent addition.

“Aria, Listen, thanks for everything you did,” said Dory.

“Thank Aesc and the gang. I nearly destroyed everything,” said Aria.

“I mean, for protecting us and all. Seriously, I don’t know if I could have done it, all those months.”

Aria cocked her head to the side, and smiled. “Yeah, you could have. Thank goodness it’s over.”

“Do you still have the sword?” asked Dory.

Aria closed her eyes, and the sword pulsed out. It looked longer, and shinier, than before. “I can still feel it burning inside me. Like it’s still waiting for a fight. Not sure for who, though.”
Percy called out. “Ladies, something’s going on with Aesc outside!”

Three men in armor were pointing golden-tipped blue spears at Aesc, Jason, and Blanche.

“Jason Jackson!” said the blonde one in the center. “You betrayed me for the dragons! You tried to escape, but we placed a tracker on you all, and now we’ve found you!”

“Seriously, dude, you travelled across the universe because I didn’t join your guild?” said Jason. “That’s either impressive or stalkery.”

The blonde guy sputtered “I-it’s not stalkery! This is justice! A punishment you deserve!”

Aria lifted her sword up. “I’m really tired of people talking about punishment.”

Aesc shook her head. “Let us handle this. You’ve done enough. Just chill. These are the sort of problems my team deal with.”

Blanche groaned. “And by handle, she means--”

The three adventurers disappeared, and Aria’s group lived normal lives.

Well, until the Hycorax Bandits came looking for Xylia’s remains….

But that’s Aria and Dory’s stories. That’s for another time.


​

​ “Miss Combine! Miss Combine! Come quick, Nellie is hurting Susan!” Pratima yelled, tripping over her own feet as she ran. Blanche caught the girl, and steadied her while moving towards the situation. Be Centro Scout Leader they’d said. It’ll be rewarding they said. What they didn’t tell her was that, after she’d disclosed she had military training, they’d given her the problem kids, all lumped together by the other adults on the moon so their children could avoid them. It wasn’t quite the relaxing experience she’d imagined.
Nellie was slight and blonde, and her parents were damn poor. Even as she held poor Susan in a headlock, who was stockier with light brown hair, Nellie’s sleeves pulled up to show some new scars from home. Blanche didn’t change her facial expression, or her pace, but simply walked up and pulled Nellie off of Susan in one swift tug.
“Let me go!” the girl yelled
“You know the rules about bullying here. This is not okay, and it’s your third strike,” Blanche monotoned.
Nellie thrashed around, and Blanche looked over at Susan, “Are you alright?”
Susan nodded, “She should be kicked out, she tried to take my pendant. Go back home you garbage picker!”
Blanche narrowed her eyes at Susan, “What did I just remind Nellie here about bullying?”
The rest of the girls grew quiet, and Nellie got tired of thrashing and just panted, glaring at Blanche, “I’m going to have a word with Nellie. Start back to camp, we’ll be making smores and you’ll all enjoy them, or else. Then I’ll get you back home for the evening. And you’re all terrible liars so you can bet I’ll know if there was any funny business.”
They started back, and Blanche set Nellie down, who just stared off, arms crossed.
“This can’t continue like this.”
“I’ll do whatever I want as long as they keep calling me that stuff!”
“You tried to take Susan’s necklace. That was wrong. Them calling you that was also wrong. But you can’t hurt your fellow scouts.”
“Yeah, so?”
Blanche rubbed her nose, “Hit me.”
Nellie stared, her bottom lip hanging a little.
“Didn’t you hear me? I won’t even hit back. Come on, do it.”
Nellie hesitated, and then gave a half hearted punch.
“Harder.”
It was harder.
“Keep going.”
She wailed away at Blanche, who stood there and took it, waiting patiently, till Nellie had her hands on her knees, panting.
“There. Now you won’t admit it, but this isn’t about anyone here. This is about your home. Your mom and dad.”
“My mommy and daddy are the best!”
Blanche leaned down to eye level, “Then why are you angry?”
Nellie wound her fist back quick, and tried to get a sucker punch in at Blanche’s face, but this time Blanche caught the blow. “Now, I’m not going to ask you to apologize to Susan, because we both know that forced apologies adults make you do are bullshit,” Nellie’s eyes widened at the curse word, “but what I do want you to do is to think about who you’re lashing out at. Cause I wasted a lot of time, and a lot of friendships, hurting the wrong people when I was angry. And I’m not even going to tell you to not be angry. You have the right to be mad as hell. But who are you taking it out on? Susan? Because she can’t do the full hikes with us yet without stopping for long breaks?”
Now Nellie did look a little embarrassed.
“Those girls at camp can be your friends, or you can keep hurting them. But they’re not the people you’re really angry at, and hurting them won’t make the things you feel go away.”
“You don’t know what it’s--”
Blanche rolled her long sleeve up, and showed the scars, the burns.
Nellie was silent.
“Scout rules say you should be kicked out now. But I don’t think either of us want that. Am I right?”
Nellie nodded.
“I’m giving you another shot Nellie. If you want to be here in the Centro Scouts, and go camping and get away from the bad things, you can. Do you want to have friends here?”
Nellie nodded.
“Then let’s make some smores.”




The girls had all gathered around the firepit (full headcount!) and were eagerly holding their marshmallows on metal sticks. Blanche lit the fire, and got to her own seat where she had her guitar. She gave It a quick strum, “Alright girls, it’s that time of the evening. So, any requests?”
“Baby shark!” Pratima yelled.
“Your parents threw a fit because I used the real lyrics so we can’t actually sing that one--”
In response, the girls broke out in unison:




“Shark attack doo doo do doo doo doo!
Shark attack doo doo do doo doo doo!
Shark attack!
Lost an arm doo doo do doo doo doo!
Lost an arm doo doo do doo doo doo!
Lost an arm!”




“Yeaaahhh,” Blanche said, “anyways I did not tell you to sing that so...any other requests!”
Nellie, with more hesitancy than you’d expect, raised a hand. Blanche pointed to her.
“Princess Pat?”
“Arigabamboo! That’s a good one. Now it’s a call and response so I’ll sing one part, and you sing the line back to me, and don’t forget the hand motions we all practiced, let’s go...”




“The Princess Pat” - “The Princess Pat”
“Lived in a tree” - “Lived in a tree”
“She sailed across” - “She sailed across”
“The seven seas” - “The seven seas”
“She sailed across” - “She sailed across”
“The channel, too” - “The channel, too”
“And brought with her” - “And brought with her”
“Arigabamboo” - “Arigabamboo”




“Daisy, try doing the hand motions, you can just watch Pratima if you need to.”




“Arigabamboo” - “Arigabamboo”
“Now what is that?” - “Now what is that?”
“It's something made” - “It's something made”
“By the Princess Pat” - “By the Princess Pat”
“Its red and gold” - “Its red and gold”
“And purple too” - “And purple too”
“That's why it's called” - “That's why it's called”
“Arigabamboo” - “Arigabamboo”




“Gillian put her smore down please--Sarah-Jane that’s a worm don’t eat that either.”




“Now Captain Jack” - “Now Captain Jack”
“Had a mighty fine crew” - “Had a mighty fine crew”
“He sailed across” - “He sailed across”
“The channel, too” - “The channel, too”
“But his ship sank” - “But his ship sank”
“And yours will too” - “And yours will too”
“If you forget” - “If you forget”
“Arigabamboo” - “Arigabamboo”




A bright light burst from the sky, and descended down towards the campfire like a falling star, the girls scrambled away as the glowing orb rocketed down at them and then stopped a few feet above the fire. A woman dropped out of it, directly into the fire. She made an “eeeeP!!!!” sound, and leapt out of the fire, rolling along the ground to put it out, and then turning that roll into a somersault to her feet, calling the orb to her hand as it shrunk down, away from the fire, and then popped it right into her pocket.
“Oh, Blanche you didn’t tell me you had ten children!” the woman said.
“This is my Centro Scout Troop, Lady Aesc, and you’re interrupting our singalong.”
“Oh, sorry.”
She sat down crosslegged, eyes shining and ready to sing. Blanche coughed, and continued.




“Arigabamboo” - “Arigabamboo”
“Now what is that?” - “Now what is that?”
“It's something made” - “It's something made”
“By the Princess Pat” - “By the Princess Pat”
“Its red and gold” - “Its red and gold”
“And purple too” - “And purple too”
“That's why it's called” - “That's why it's called”
“Arigabamboo” - “Arigabamboo”




Lady Aesc began clapping, then slowly trailed off as no one else did.
“Who is she, Miss Blanche?” Susan asked.
“She’s my girlfriend, we used to travel all sorts of places together before I moved here, sorry she just popped in like this. It’s almost time to get you to the pick up spot for your parents--”
There were a lot of, “NOO!!”s.
“But we have time for one more song.”
“BABY SHARK!” they yelled.
“...Alright, but only if you don’t tell your parents.”


Lady Aesc and Blanche waved as the last car drove off. Not all the parents actually showed up to get their kids, many just sent autocars, so Blanche checked each car to make sure they were really going back to the right home, and spotted two girls from the corner of her eyes.
Nellie was looking at her feet, and wiping away some tears, while saying something to Susan.
The two girls hugged.
Blanch clenched her fist in victory.
“So, you’re a little early for date night,” Blanche said.
“It’s a surprise vacation! We’re going to the beach, you, me, and Jason Jackson! You remember him right, from back when I died? Rest in Peace, me.”
Blanche nodded, “I thought you didn’t like third wheels.”
Aesc ran her arm under Blanche’s elbow, “Oh c’mon, it’ll be fun!”
“Aesc, please,” Blanche sighed, “you’re the opposite of a master manipulator. What’s this really about?”
Aesc pursed her lips hard, and looked at her feet for a moment like Nellie had done, “He uh...well...something happened to him, the last place we went to. I thought he’d be okay, I really did. But he’s not doing well, Blanche. I think it really affected him.”
Blanche nodded, “Why do you think I can help? I came here because I’m not helpful.”
Aesc’s brow’s furrowed, “Of course you can help. Blanche, you’re more qualified to help than me here. There’s something about you that I don’t have, and I need that.”
Blanche felt her heart start to melt, “Yeah? What...what do I have?” Her breath caught in her throat. She could feel the color rush into her cheeks.
“You’re a human!” Aesc said. “You understand all those humany things and stuff!”
“Oh,” Blanche said, her heart solidifying, the color running from her face, and her voice uncatching from her throat. “Fine,” she sighed, “sure I’ll go to the beach I guess.”
As Lady Aesc pumped her fist in triumph, the Foce flew out of her pocket in front of the pair of them, and as they fell into it words appeared, as they do:

  Across the surface of Lady Aesculapius’ Factory of Crystal (Foce for short), that majestic moon-sized ship that took her and her friends through alternate realities, time, and across the universe, the light from beneath the crystal ground was growing stronger, signaling its artificial morning. Jason Jackson moaned at the light, and covered his eyes with a pillow.
“Phil, eight-hundred more minutes.”
The ship, who was indeed named Phil, replied, “I’m sorry Jason, but Lady Aesculapius is back with a guest.”
He didn’t exactly shoot up out of bed, but he did force himself to sit up, and make his way to the shower, where he stripped off his pajamas, and turned the water on, leaning against the wall as it ran over him. He dried himself, put on his underwear (even in private he liked a little modesty) and walked to the sink to brush his teeth. He hadn’t brushed his teeth in days, which was gross, and if there was a guest he didn’t want to give off the wrong impression.
He raised the brush to his lips, but he wasn’t starting back at himself. There was a bunny, a bunny like a man. Its nose twitched. He looked down at his hand, which was a hand, but in the mirror it was fur. Jason dropped to the floor, covering his eyes.
This isn’t real. This isn’t real.
He pushed his nails into his palm, and he could feel that. He took deep breaths.
I’m here. I’m not on the Dyson Sphere.
Slowly, he got himself up, and finished getting dressed. He brushed his teeth blind, and walked out to greet the guest.
“Hello, sorry I’m--” he stopped talking.
Lady Aesc was standing with that girlfriend of hers he’d met at the funeral, Blanche. Blanche was wearing a one-piece bathing suit with an open zip-up hoodie over it, and Aesc was wearing a women’s bathing suit that appeared to be from the 1890’s, complete with embroidered collar and period beach ball under her arm. “Surprise!” Aesc yelled, throwing the beach ball at Jason, who did not catch it. “We’re going to the beach! Yay! Fun for humans!”
He stared. Blanche held up a hand, with a face that said she had long since passed her “Aesc is acting like this” threshold.
“I’ll uh, get changed then.”


* * *


The Foce zoomed down to the city, then through an air vent, and dropped the three of them unceremoniously into a dark dank closet.
“Fantastic landing as always, Aesc,” Blanche moaned.
“I think we’re in a closet, that’s what the narration said at least.”
“Narration?” Jason said.
Blanche sighed, “She does that. You’ll get used to it.”
“But once we come out of the closet, we’ll all have a lot more fun I’m sure! It’s beach adventure time, so let’s go! Jason, I think you’re in front of the door so if you could stand up and—ow--do the honors?
Jason opened the closet door, grinning in anticipation, and a bullet ripped through his sun hat.
“Aesc! This isn’t Navy Pier! They’re shooting, and there isn’t even a Ferris Wheel.”
Lady Aesculapius shrugged as she pushed past him, “I told you Chicago was disappointing.” As she stuck her head out, her face dropped, “This isn’t Navy Pier.”
Blanche called from behind them, “Amazing insight. If only he’d said that fifteen seconds ago.”
Aesc looked out at the horizon of broken skyscrapers and fallen attractions. “But it was.”
The sound of gunfire stopped, and Lady Aesculapius leaned out further. A group of teenagers in stylish but makeshift armor crept out from behind a barricade of tables. Across from them were the sprawled remains of their foes. She walked out between them.
The teenagers pointed their guns again, but one raised her hand, “Hold your fire, she’s not a Topper!”
Lady Aesculapius walked over to the corpses, and stopped. They’d had the tops of their heads cut off, right above the nose. A matte black laptop had been installed, replacing the rest of the head. She turned back to the group.
“I’m Lady Aesculapius, this is my assistant, Jason.”
Jason waved awkwardly from behind the closet door.
“And introducing my old assistant, back from retirement,” she drummed on her thighs, “the one, the only, Blanche Combine!”
Blanche leaned past Jason, sighed, and put up a peace sign.
“We’re here on a mercy mission from the moon, do any of you need medical attention?”
The girl who’d stopped the firing stepped forward, “We’re the Chicago Order of Liberation. Call us C.O.O.L..”
“Okay cee-oh-oh-el, what’s going on, you’re children?”
The leader raised her chin, “We’re trying to fight Centro Systems, who have enslaved the people of Chicago since-”
“-and turned the dissidents into Toppers. I get it that.”
The leader cleared her throat, “I’m Alice, the chosen one and leader of the C.O.O.L Revolution. This is Jack, Yi, Trevon, Shona, Chantelle, and Doug.”
“Doug’s my favourite,” Lady Aesculapius said. “You’re the leader here?”
She nodded.
“We thought she took a bullet through the heart and fell off a cliff, but there she came staggering into our hideout a week later. It was a miracle,” Doug added.
“Well, I am the chosen one,” she winked back.
“Who chose you?” Lady Aesculapius said, pointing her Quantum Whisk at her and waving it up and down.
“The prophecy! And, could you stop that?”
She rolled her eyes, “of course, there’s always a prophecy.” She put the whisk away into her beach bag. “Next you’ll tell me there’s a love triangle.”
Doug, Jack, and Shona all blushed.
Lady Aesculapius eyebrowed.
Blanche slugged her in the arm, “Ah come on Aesc! It’s sweet, it’s like the novels the kids I volunteer with love.”
“They think putting a dog tongue on their selfies is art.”
“Sorry, one big question though,” Alice asked. “Why are you all in swimsuits?”
“Missed our vacation spot by a bit I’m afraid. Where are you off to now?”
Alice pointed at the building the Toppers had been guarding. “Laboratory, where they build the Toppers. We’re shutting it down.”
Lady Aesculapius held an arm out for them to go ahead, and followed behind Jason as they made their way through the doors.
The freedom fighters rushed in, a few stopping to capture the staff in the entryway, and Blanche placed a hand on Aesc’s shoulder till she stopped to listen, “We should go. You wanted a vacation for Jason, not this sort of thing.”
“I can hear you, and we’re not leaving,” Jason said, “These people might need our help, there’s messed-up stuff going on here, Blanche.”
She crossed her arms, her bare legs taking a wide stance. “It’s not our responsibility to fix everyone’s problems. You have to take care of yourself.”
Jason’s eye twitched, and Aesc frowned a little. He looked...angry? Jason never looked angry! Well, sometimes. Usually when they were playing Mario Kart.
“You haven’t even been here!” he threw his arms out.
“Sorry,” Alice called back, “but uh, we’re going to keep moving, while you have your...fight or whatever.”
“Fine!” Blanche and Jason yelled back at the same time, and then looked very cross that they’d mirrored each other.
Lady Aesc tried to step between them, looking back and forth between the pair, “Hey now, we’re on vacation! This is no way to talk!”
“It’s a warzone, Aesc,” Blanche said.
“So we’re not leaving,” Jason affirmed, “we can’t let anything bad happen to anyone.”
“We could make things worse.”
“Maybe you could.”
Aesc looked back and forth quicker and quicker, this was not going correctly.
“Look, if we’re staying we should probably get changed. But, you know, put your clothes on over your bathing suits! We’ll have a party after we overthrow the dystopia’s dictator! A pool party! With...pizza! And...teacup pigs!”
“Sounds good. I’ll make sure I’m armed then,” Blanche noted.
“You’re not going to...” Jason shook his head, “sorry, you’re not planning to kill people are you?”
Blanche stared at him, “Is that what I do then?”
“There has to be a...a clever way to do things without that! Aesc has gotten us out of tons of scrapes by just being clever.”
The door opened, it was Dave, “Hello! Sorry, Alice is wondering if one of you might be able to help? We found a sealed area we can’t get into.”
Aesc raised her hand and bounced up and down on her toes, “I can do that!” She turned back to her friends, “You two get dressed, I’ll get working on the door.”


* * *




Jason found the process of getting dressed strangely slow, so by the time he’d popped out of the Foce, Blanche was already out adjusting the straps on a set of black armor, which contrasted with her white hair quite spectacularly. Jason had put on a long sleeve t-shirt with striped sleeves that had the four aces from a deck of cards, each with a different Centro pilot as the card image. Blanche gave him a curt nod, he walked past her to Aesc, who was fiddling with the door.
“How’s it going?”
“No luck yet...I even tried the whisk!”
He looked at the purple whisk. He was not surprised.
Looking back at Alice, he asked, “So, what do you think is behind this?”
“Don’t know. Something secret though. Something that’ll let us take down the company.
“Aha! I gots it!” Aesc shouted, after pouring a cup of heavy cream onto some circuitry. The lock clicked open. Alice looked at her friends, and gave a signal with her hand. The rebels lined up, guns ready, Alice taking point.
“Alright,” she said, “open it up.”
The doors slid open.
Alice charged into the laboratory. She stopped, the color draining from her face. Jason caught up, his eyes adjusting to the darkness.
“Alice, what’s the matter?” he asked, putting her hand on her shoulder, and then he saw it.
There was another Alice, hanging in a vat of fluid, a bullet hole through her chest.
Jack raised his gun halfway at her, “Alice..what is this.”
She shook her head, “I...I don’t know.”
There was the crackle of an intercom, “What this is, Subject 23, is a successful completion of your mission,” a woman’s voice said. As the rebels began to edge back towards the exit, the doors shut behind them all, and from the ceiling a hissing sound began.
“Gas!” Blanche yelled, but by the time she had there was a second problem as Toppers wearing gas masks burst out of hiding places throughout the room.
Jason looked towards Lady Aesc, who was reaching for her Foce before she dropped to the floor. Suddenly, things went black, and he fell too.


* * *


Jason had a dream. He was in Newcastle, they were at the pool. He was looking into it, he could see his feet and his reflection in the water. He was so small. Maybe this wasn't a dream. A memory?
"Jason, still scared to go in?" he heard Mickey shout at him. The snickers Mickey’s mates gave him were almost straight out of a bad movie, but they'd been real.
"I dunno how to swim," he said, "Dad said he'll teach me tho-"
He didn't finish, Mickey shoved him in, and leapt after. Jason scrambled, waving his arms, trying so hard to get to the surface, but Mickey was there, shoving his head down, he could feel the fingers in his hair. Bubbles seeped out of his mouth. He sucked in water--he could feel it going in the wrong pipes, he thrashed harder.


JASON


The voice was muffled, but he could see her, a woman wearing...a jumper? Her white hair floated in the water, she was looking at him, screaming his name. This wasn't part of the memory? She reached out, and through his panic he reached out too, and their fingers touched.


With a splash, he dropped onto the ground, panting and soaked. He staggered up, looking down to see himself grown again wearing the clothes he’d always imagined himself wearing--the Ace Pilot shirt, jeans...and he was dry now. So not normal.


He had been a rabbit not too long ago, so all things considered this was not actually that weird. It took him a moment to take in his surroundings. There was a person, a bag over their head, arms and legs tied. Someone was standing next to them, a group behind them. A young woman, late teens maybe, with white hair.
"Are you hesitating?" a menacing voice of a cloaked figure shouted.
"I...I don't know who they are," Blanche replied.
"Which doesn't matter, nothing matters. And to be in Dusk you need to accept that. You need to kill on command. You cannot question."
"Yes, Leader," Blanche said, and pulled a pistol out, pointing it at the captive. She hesitated.
The Leader shook their head, "discipline her, then let her try again. Keep repeating till she makes the kill or dies. I don't care which." The Leader turned and walked away, as the group grabbed Blanche, throwing her to the ground and kicking her, slamming batons down on her back as she tried to scramble away from their attacks.
Jason shook away his shock, and ran for her, "Get away from her!" She looked up at him, confused, not recognising him, the group taking no notice of him at all.
As she cried out to a particularly hard kick, he reached his hand out, and she reached hers, and their fingers touched.


Jason and Blanche dropped to the floor, the bright lights disorienting them. They were in a...cafeteria? Jason was wearing his same outfit, Blanche was wearing a grey hooded jumper with track pants. Not what he'd ever pictured her wearing, if he was honest. The jumper said "Good Omens" on it.
"What's happening?" she asked. She was shaking.
"I don't know, was that a...memory of yours?"
She nodded, "And the pool? Yours?"
"Yeah. So we're visiting each other's memories?"
Blanche pointed, "Not just ours," seated at the cafeteria tables were...Alices. They were all eating meals out of trays, dressed in numbered blue jumpsuits. But one seemed more...in focus. Number 23. Guards walked around them, and a woman in a lab coat tapped on a tablet as she addressed them.
"Now, clone units, you survived the physical and mental trials, but now comes the most difficult portion...we'll be attempting the memory transfer from the host body. There's really nothing you can do to prepare for it, I'm afraid, but we have a very small window of time before her friends will start to have doubts about her survival."
The clones all smiled back at her. They'd been smiling like that the whole time.
"Yes, right. Well, follow me. Lunch is over early."
They all got up in an orderly fashion, lined up by number, and followed her. Jason and Blanche gave each other a look, and scrambled up to follow. They were taken through a maze of hallways to a room labeled in large capital letters: MEMORY POOL. The scientist tapped a key fob to a sensor on the door, and it slid open to reveal a large room with a calm pool of dark water in it. Faintly in the darkness, one could make out a body at the bottom.
"Alright, no reason to wait. Unit 1?"
Unit 1, smiling, began to walk in, but as soon as her bare foot sunk into the fluid she turned her head, as if confused.
"Quickly now, you all need to submerge yourselves as fast as possible! Jump in!"
Unit 1 did. And didn't come up. They waited.
Jason tried to bolt for the water, but Blanche grabbed him, "It's a memory. We can't change it."
They kept jumping in, one by one. The scientist looked increasingly frustrated as the project looked increasingly dire.
"Twenty-Three?"
She jumped in, red hair sinking below the surface...and then nothing.
"Rats, Twenty-Four?"
And then a hand came up. Then a face gasping for air and thrashing limbs. Guards ran to pull her out of the water.
"What's going on? How did I get here?" Alice asked, "You may have captured me, but you'll never stop the revolution!"
The scientist clapped, "Oh thank goodness! We have one! Restrain her, and block this memory out. We'll go through the rest, just in case, but we have our little traitor now."
"I'm no traitor!" Alice yelled out, "You'll never get me to..." she finally took in all of her surroundings, and saw the remaining clones standing by the liquid, "What...what's happening?"
"Blanche, when I touched you, when you touched me...it moved us on to the next memory," Jason said.
"What if only one of us can move on?" Blanche asked.
He paused, "We'll reach for Alice together."
She nodded, and they moved towards her as the guards dragged her away. She squinted at them as their arms reached for her. Jason had almost touched her, when Blanche's hand pulled back.
"Blanche, what-"
And she shoved him forward, "Aesc needs you, Jason."


He was falling, sinking. It was like he was in dark water, bubbles coming from below, and if he could only reach those bubbles he could breathe. It felt...calm...comforting.


The light of the Foce woke Jason up, and he stretched. Another cozy morning. He enjoyed the feeling of the warm blankets, until he felt the strong urge for breakfast.
"Jason!" Aesc yelled, "I'm making chocolate croissants! Or maybe they're Chocolatines? No, wait, totally different recipe, they might be Pains Au Chocolat. Well, whatever they are they have chocolate in them so they can't be the worst!"
"Sounds fantastic, I'll be down!" he dressed and met Aesc in the Foce's extensive Kitchen and dining area, where she was pulling a big tray of chocolatey bready things from the oven. He licked his lips, and then furrowed his brow a little as he looked at the bowl, "Aesc, why don't you ever use the Quantum Whisk to cook? It's just a whisk isn't it?"
"It has quantum in the name Jason, so it has to be important! I mean, I assume. Maybe." She carefully placed two treats on two plates, next to two steaming cups of tea, and picked her pair up to go sit down in the dining hall that could seat several thousand, but usually just served two.
Jason followed, and they munched and sipped, and it was quite a delightful breakfast.
"So that's when Blanche comes up to me and is all like, 'Aesc, you can't actually teach an elephant to tapdance, and you know how I am with a challenge..."
Blanche. Aesc.
A faint recollection creeped in. A memory pool. If Alice had gotten her memories from it...then...
"Aesc, sorry to interrupt but I don't think we're really eating breakfast."
Aesc looked down at the tiny bit left of her chocolatey thing, "Did we sleep in that badly? Is it already brunch? I should have made mimosas. I'm so sorry, that's inexcusable."
He shook his head, "No I mean, this isn't real. Right now. We're being used somehow. And I don't know the way out."
Aesc reached out, and touched his arm, "If you're right, go down the rabbit hole."


He burrowed. Whiskers twitching, and fell from the dirt ceiling to the dirt floor of his den.
"Honey, I'm home!" Jason yelled out. A chorus of laughter played from somewhere. "Oh, that's right, I'm not married." A sensible chuckle. His hands were fur he...he shut his bunny eyes. It's a memory. It's not real. He opened them, looking for Aesc, or Blanche, or Alice, or anyone. But the only person who came in was Mr. Wolf, licking his lips.
"Why, hello there Jason McRabbit, I thought I'd...serve you a welcome to the neighborhood!" The wolf winked at the camera. Light laughter followed by one loud, "HAH!"
"Why Mr. Wolf, I don't have anything for dinner!"
"Oh I think you'll be surprised what I can find!"
Laughter.
He was saying his lines. Just like he was supposed to, just like... "You're going to eat me. Jesus fuck, you're going to eat me. And they'll laugh. They'll laugh at it as you rip me to shreds I..."
The wolf looked behind him confused, as his co-star was clearly going off-script.
"Why would anyone do this? Hell why would anyone watch this? I was helpless. And Aesc didn't mean to put me in this situation, hell I volunteered, but I never thought when I signed up I'd be dealing with this. I never thought this would happen."
"Maybe you're just getting...hunger pangs?" the wolf said, eyebrowing.
"Oh shut up! Shut up!" he yelled with a human mouth, "I'm not your plaything! I'm not. You think you can just...kick me around? You think I don't matter?"
"Do you?"


The doors hissed open again and Captain Jessica Zhane entered the room. There was a drop in idle chatter and everyone sat-up straight over their terminals, looking busy, as Zhane took her place in the captain’s chair. “Ms Santos,” she said over her shoulder to Mia. “Have final checks been completed?”
“Yes captain, we’re good to go.”
“Mr Jackson, all engines functioning?”
“Yes captain,” said Jason. “All four engines primed.”
The captain smiled. “Prepare to engage.”
The tension built as switches were flipped, buttons were pressed, and lights flashed. As everyone in the room completed their individual processes, they slowly turned their attention to the large lever sitting in front of Nagi.
Captain Zhane nodded. “Punch it.”
Nagi pulled the lever.
Nothing.
A clank.
Jason looked really closely at the field of stars in front of him. If he focused on just one of them, he could tell that, yes, the ship WAS moving forward.
“Woo hoo!” Captain Zhane laughed. “Well, that was all very Star Trek. I hope someone does invent a warp drive one day. Can I interest anyone in a coffee?”
Jason slumped down in his chair a little as he was hit by a wave of second-hand embarrassment for the ship. Grand space adventure, here he comes.
“I’ll have an espresso,” said Nagi.
“Ooh, good choice. Mia?”
“A latte, please.”
“Cassie?”
“Decaf.”
“Chuck?”
“A flat white.”
“Kevin?”
“A caramel macchiato.”
“Jason?”
“On it.” Jason got up to get the coffee. And it suddenly struck him that...he'd accepted this. It didn't make the way he'd been treated okay, it shouldn't be his job to make everyone not terrible but...he'd never been angry about it. He'd never pushed back. Good ol' Jason.
Good reliable Jason.
Jason can do it, don't worry.
Jason could you do this for me?
Jason, we want to go to the park, could you watch our bikes?
Jason Jason Jason Jason JasonJasonJASONJASONJASONJASON
"NO!" he shouted, "Someone else can get the damn coffee! I get the coffee every time, I even made a chart for whose turn it was with stickers, and you all just still expect me to do it! I'm not doing it!" He felt angry. He let himself feel angry. He let himself feel like he deserved to be angry.
"I'm not your fucking bunny, or your coffee boy! I matter! I..." he looked down at his hands, stumbling to the side as the bridge crew watched him. "I need to save my friends."
The captain gave a polite cough, "You just said you were tired of doing things for other--"
"Shut up! The point is I get to choose. It's my life. My name is Jason Jackson. I'm an Ace Pilot, and an ace pilot too. I have a friend who showed me wonders, and...I honestly don't like Blanche. I didn’t like that Aesc picked her up again, I don't even know what Aesc sees in her. But I'll save her too. And Alice. And you can't stop me!"
"They're already at the bottom," the bridge crew said.
His head held under the water. His arms flailing.
"Then I'll finally learn how to swim."


Alice was looking out at the city through her binoculars. After all these years, she'd make the company pay for what they'd done to her family, the people of this land, and especially her band of attractive freedom fighters who were all single and in their late teens. Despite living in the wasteland for the last several months eating only the mutant wildlife, their hair had all managed to stay perfectly groomed, and any dirt on them seemed to be only for cosmetic effect. But Alice didn't think too hard about that, she was more worried about the man who had dropped out of the sky.
"Hello, sir! Are you alright?"
Jason rubbed his head, "Alice?"
She stopped, and crossed her arms, "How do you know me?"
"You're the famous revolutionary, right? The chosen one?"
She frowned, "No one's ever called me the chosen one before..."
"Alice!" a voice called out, she looked to see her friend Jack, "There's a mysterious child coming over the hill!"
Jason and Alice turned to see a child dressed in a massively oversized robe, clearly made for an adult. The sleeves dangled over their hands, and they tripped over the dragging hem of the robe repeatedly as they walked all while making woooo-oooo sounds.
"That is indeed a mysterious child, I better investigate."
"Better yet, I'll come with you."
She shrugged, and they met the child's path.
"Woooo!!!" the child said.
"Hello mysterious child," Alice said, "I'm with the Cool Revolution."
"WOOOO!!!!" the child continued, "Alice McLeod!!!! I am the Prophet Hamlet!"
Jason sighed, "Really? Hamlet?"
"Woo," the child said with some disappointment, "look I'm a prophet, and I have a prophecy alright? Do you want it or not, I'm a busy kid."
"Of course I want the prophecy!" Alice said, "What news do you have?"
The child pointed one completely covered arm at Alice, "You are the Chosen One! The one foretold in the ancient...word documents."
Jason's mouth was hanging open, Alice agreed this was indeed incredible.
"The Chosen One? But...how could that be?"
"You are the one who will take down the company, defeat the CEO, and bring freedom back to the land. Only you and your friends can achieve this!" the child held their arms up in the air, as though they were going to say something else and were trying to hold everyone's attention while they tried to bring it to mind, but instead just went "WOOO!" again.
"But...who will believe me?"
"Oh, right, yeah. I'll go tell all your friends. BRB, and whatnot," the child began making their way back over to Alice's friends, and tripped again falling flat on their face. Jason sighed.
"Amazing," Alice said.
Jason coughed politely, "Yes, so...Alice. Aly?"
"No just Alice please.”
"Cool cool. Um, this is a weird question but...what was your first memory?"
She raised an eyebrow, "That is a weird question."
"Indulge me."
"I don't know, probably...my mother singing to me. A song. I think it was...La Baracadas."
"Think harder."
"What are you getting at?"
"Alice, think harder. Do you remember," he bit his lip, "maybe a tank of fluid?"
--The woman in the white coat tapped on the glass.
"No," Alice, clutched her hair, "no, what am I remembering?"
Jason reached to comfort her, but knew he couldn't touch her yet, "Alice, don't shy away from it. What happened? What do you remember?"
--She slid out of the tank, gasping in a puddle of fluid onto the floor. She looked up, and saw dozens of herself doing the same thing.
"Oh gods," she clutched her chest, "I'm a fake."
Jason grabbed her arm, and they collapsed onto a cold floor. It was dark, and they were surrounded by tanks full of fluid. Alice was shaking, "No, no no no no...I'm me. I remember my friends? I grew up with Jack, we used to play together. I'd go with my father to the White Rabbit and...and I'd sing. I'd sing songs."
"What songs Alice?"
"I...I don't know. I can only think of one right now and I don't know it."
Jason frowned, "What do you mean?"
"I mean that...I feel like it's seeping into me, from someone else...someone else's memory...none of these memories are mine, so why not get someone else's too I suppose?"
"What's the song?"
Alice closed her eyes, "Arigabamboo."
"Arigabamboo?"
"Now what is that?"
"I don't know."
"It's something made."
"Okay."
"By the Princess Pat."
"I've never heard of her."
The sound of damp footsteps caused them to turn their heads to see an unfamiliar wet woman wrapped in a blanket, "I'm sorry, I just heard you singing, I thought I might get to join in," a hand carefully shot out of the blanket, "I'm a Pundit of Biology."
Jason shot up, "Lady Aesculapius! I have no idea where we are but I'm so glad to see you!"
She pulled her hand back and laughed, "I don't know how you know my name, but I'm not a lady yet! I'm still in school!"
Alice looked extremely confused, so Jason leaned over, "My friend Aesc is an alien, sorry, long story. I think...we're on her home planet."
"She was born from a tank? Like...like I was?"
"Everyone is born from tanks? That's the normal way?" young Aesc said. "I suppose some species do uh, give birth in rather more difficult ways, but tanks are very nice!"
Alice curled up, "So I'm like an alien."
"No!" Jason said, "Don't think like that. You're still...you. You still have the same memories as Alice. Those memories are real."
Aesc nodded, "I get my memories ported to a new body all the time. My teacher, Professor Meistras, keeps thinking if he kills me enough I'll eventually get a body that will make me behave."
"What the fuck," said Alice.
"That's incredibly messed up," Jason said.
"Yeah, it's pretty awful...but look, Alice, is it? My point is that everybody gets their memories put in a new body when they die. It's a totally normal part of life! It doesn't mean you're not you anymore."
Alice gave a slow nod, "I'm...not entirely sure what exactly is happening, but I sort of feel better."
"Great!" Aesc said, "Do you know where they moved the clothes dispenser to by the way?"
Jason looked at Alice, and held a hand out. She waiverd a moment, but took his hand, and he reached out for Aesc's. "Yeah, we can lead you there."
Lady Aesc looked down at herself, "Oh, I was in a weird memory prison thing. How odd. Glad to see I'm back to my old self again!"
Jason and Alice stared at her, slackjawed.
"What?"
"I mean, I know we're all appearing as we think of ourselves but..."
Lady Aesc put both hands, covered in sequins and obscured by the dangling threads of beads attached to the sleeves on her hips, and took one step forward with her foot tall platform boots. The entire silver dress was complemented by the massive rainbow spread of peacock feathers attached to her back, and the three foot tall golden crown. "It's called fashion, Jason. I thought I'd taught you better."
Jason and Alice shrugged, and finally got abreast of their surroundings--it was a forest, and not too far away was a campfire, where they could hear singing. As they started heading for it, Lady Aesc wobbled in her costume, and cursed under her breath as she nearly toppled over stepping on some roots. With a large sigh, the costume disappeared and Aesc followed behind them in her normal outfit, hands in her pockets, trying to not act like she was moping.
"Arigabamboo!" Blanche called out, and the girl scouts responded, "Arigabamboo!"
"Oh, it's a call and response song. I remember those," Jason said.
They listened to the song play through, until the Foce came careening down into the campfire, dropped the memory of Aesc into the fire, and things proceeded from there.
"This is Blanche's memory," Jason said, "and you're there too."
"Oh, uh, maybe we should leave this one alone."
Jason ignored her and moved towards the camp.
“Aesc, please,” the memory Blanche sighed, “you’re the opposite of a master manipulator. What’s this really about?”
The memory Aesc pursed her lips hard, and looked at her feet for a moment, “He uh...well...something happened to him, the last place we went to. I thought he’d be okay, I really did. But he’s not doing well, Blanche. I think it really affected him.”
"Ah," Jason said.
"Ehhhh," Aesc said.
"Huh," Alice said.
"Who's there?" Blanche asked.
"Oh, hello, sorry!" Aesc said, "We were hiding in the bushes."
"Is that you, me?" memory Aesc asked.
"Yes, sorry, we're in Blanche's memories right now actually, sorry about the confusion!"
Blanche held her hands up, "What are you talking about? In my memories?"
One of the scouts stood up, "Don't bring that up!"
Jason squinted. He could swear he recognized that scout.
"None of you are allowed in my memories, I don't know what is going on here, but you need to get out!"
Aesc looked at Blanche with soft eyes, "Sweetheart, it's not like that, we're trying to figure out a way out."
"Blanche, remember the memory pool?"
She sunk, her hair fanning out in the dark fluid.
"I...I'm..." she placed her hand on her head, "I'm drowning."
Aesc nodded, "And we can get you out. Just take my hand."
Blanche blinked, "I remember now." She gave Aesc a small smile. "It's probably better this way." She stepped back.
She sunk further.
"Grab that one," a voice said from outside of the memories.
"Wait," Aesc said, as she began to melt, "oh dear, that is troubling, looks like I might be leaving after all."
Alice, Jason, and Blanche all reached for her, but their hands went through her like water.
"No, no no no, you can't leave Aesc. You can't."
"Jason," Aesc said, "you need to get Blanche out. I'm trusting you to--"
And then she splashed onto the ground.
Blanche took a step backwards, then another, clutching her head, "I'm drowning. I don't deserve to be here."
Alice stepped toward her, "I don't know you well Blanche, but of course you deserve to be here. You deserve to live. And I know your friends care about you."
Blanche laughed, "I've never had a friend."
And the world disappeared.


Jason and Alice found themselves on a black watery nothingness, no forest, no memories, with only one of the scouts remaining, her hat low over her face.
Alice cautiously approached the girl, "You're no ordinary little girl."
She smiled, "Thank you. But you need to hurry out of here quick, Chosen One. Lady Aesc is in danger, in reality. You need to find a way out, now."
Jason bit his lip, and shook his head, "We're not leaving without Blanche."
"Blanche is lost. She's sunk into her own trauma, you can't get her out of there."
Alice gave an angry shout, "Well we'll sure as hell try! I don't know who I am but...but I know I'd never leave a comrade behind!"
"Me neither," Jason agreed. "I know what it's like to become something you don't want to be. We're getting her out."
The girl sighed, "Good luck I guess." She began to melt, "You need to find a way to follow her then." She splattered too.
It was just Jason and Alice now, alone in the dark and wet.
"Well, I certainly felt heroic for a moment, but I honestly don't know what we're supposed to do," Alice said, sitting down and cradling her head.
Jason began to pace, he thought and thought, but nothing came together, until Alice began softly singing. "What's that?"
"That? Oh just a song my mother taught me, it's about the Spanish Civil War. It's actually kind of depressing, the fascists won that one you know."
"I mean, singing. We can sing for Blanche. Call and response."
Alice gave half a smile, "It could work. The campfire song?"
"Yeah. Together?"
They rose up, held hands, and shouted into the darkness.
"ARIGABAMBOO!"
There was silence for a long moment, and then in a whisper they could barely hear, "...arigabamboo."
They gave each other a grin, and ran in that direction, "NOW WHAT IS THAT?"
"...now what is that?"
"IT'S SOMETHING MADE!"
"...it's something made..."
"BY THE PRINCESS PAT!"
"...by the princess...pat."
In the darkness was a bedroom where a young girl sat crying on her bed, her white hair in a ponytail. Her legs were pressed up to her chest, arms around them.
"Blanche Combine, you useless child!" a voice rang from beyond a door with a poster of Dianne Fossey on it, it was in Russian but...somehow they both understood it perfectly, "You're a failure, and you know it. 99% in your science course? You know that's unacceptable. If you don't open the door right now, it'll only be worse, little wild rabbit..." The girl wept into her knees.
"Is...this her childhood?" Alice whispered.
Jason nodded, "Hello there, can you hear us?" he stepped closer through the dark water.
The girl looked up, wiping her eyes, the skin around them red and puffy, "Who's there? I can't see anyone."
"Hold on, I think we have to make it out of the water," Alice called.
The girl, understandably, looked quite confused, and even more so when the pair stepped over the threshold of where a wall should be, onto her carpet. She tightened her hug of herself, "Who are you?"
Jason knelt down, "I'm Jason Jackson, this is-"
"Alice McLeod," she gave a warm smile, "we're friends of yours."
Blanche shook her head, and said with a raspy voice, "I'm not allowed to have any friends."
Alice and Jason exchanged a look.
"Every kid needs some pals," Jason said, trying to sound chipper.
Blanche shook her head, "No, I'm a bad child. Mother says I'm poison."
Alice's face flushed red, "How could anyone say that to a child? How could...how dare she!"
Blanche gave a shrug, "I don't deserve friends. I should be alone."
Sinking, deep enough the light began to fade.
"Blanche, is..." Jason took a breath and let it out, "is this why you left Lady Aesc?"
Her eyes went wide.
"There are only a few rules on my Factory of Crystal, first of all I get to cook breakfast?"
Blanche, grown, in her combat armor, looked absolutely incredulous, "...Okay."
"No ifs ands or buts! If you think I'll enjoy a surprise breakfast in bed then--oh that actually would be quite nice, strike rule one."
Blanche rolled her eyes.
"Rule two. Er, one I guess," Aesc pointed a finger at her, "now, thanks to some hard work from my friends none of your crimes actually happened. So you have a clean slate. So you're keeping it that way, and you're going to avoid the habits you learned in your assassin terrorist cult...thing. So no killing."
Blanche screwed her face up.
"I'm serious. No killing. Anyone. Or you will never travel with me, and you're about to find out," Aesc winked, "that's a big perk!"
Blanche sighed, "This is the worst. I can't fricking stand her."


Sinking...arms thrash...then they stop fighting...




Aesc pulled away from Blanche's kiss, "And you're sure you want to leave?"
Blanche nodded, "Look at me, I'm reformed. You did your job. I'm...not who I was when you found me."
Aesc hugged her tighter, "But, come on, travelling around with my girlfriend just sounds fab. Stick around a little while longer?"
Blanche shook her head, "I just need some peace and quiet. I need to be by myself for a bit."
Aesc booped her on the nose, "Alright, but I'll be popping by for date nights."
As Aesc walked out of the door Blanche sat down on her bed, only to have Alice and Jason sit down next to her.
"Sorry, excuse me, but--"
"You left the Foce cause you thought you didn't deserve to be loved, didn't you?" Jason asked.
"But what you didn't realize was people wouldn't give up on you."
Blanch shot up off the bed, "No, no I deserve this. Jason...Jason Aesc needs you...you're good. I can never be enough, I..."
"Blanche, you've never needed to be anything other than what you are," Jason replied.
"Take our hands Blanche," Alice reached out to her.
"You don't have to be alone."
She moved her arm, just a little.
"We're sinking with you, into the darkness," Alice said.


The little girl cried on her bed, arms curled up around herself.
"But we can't pull you up."
Holding the gun to the captive's head, her hand shaking.
"Only you can do that."
Sinking.
"All we can do is tell you that you've always deserved to be loved, and you're not alone."
They reached out. Nervously, slowly, she unwrapped her arms from around herself on the bed. She lifted her armored hands in the Foce. And she took their hands
"Okay then, maybe I'll give this one more shot."


* * *


Coughing, Jason hacked up an incredible amount of dark...stuff onto the floor next to the pool. Blanche and Alice were doing the same, so at least it was a party.
"Everyone alive?" Alice asked.
"Mostly," Jason answered.
Blanche waggled a hand in the air.
Jason and Blanche were wearing just their swimsuits, Blanche's armor and Jason's clothes conveniently folded by the door. Alice had just been dropped in in her clothes, which was unfortunate. Jason staggered up, and looked down into the memory pool they’d just escaped from, “It looks like there’s something moving on the bottom of the pool… What on Earth is this stuff anyway? And why would they want our memories?”
Alice clenched a fist, “I guess to…make fakes like me.”
“Oh stop that you’re real, you’re my friend, and if you’re fake then--”
Jason probably would have continued his life affirming speech, except that a brain, dangling tentacles of nervous system under it, leapt up out of the water and onto Jason’s face. He flailed, trying to pull it off, as Blache and Alice grabbed at the pulsing brain, tearing it off Jason’s face and chucking it back into the water.
“That was a brain!” Jason said, obviously.
“Let’s step away from the side of the pool, yeah?” Alice advised.


As they helped Jason clean his face off, their surprises weren’t done.
"You made it out of the dark," the little girl said, stepping out of the shadows.
Alice and Blanche startled, Jason sighed.
"You're the prophecy child!" Alice said.
"Who was in my scout troop," Blanche continued.
"You guys really don't know who she is?" Jason asked. "She's Ofelia, you know, Professor Meistras' assistant?"
"Actually I'm her adopted daughter now,” Ofelia, who was wearing her normal outfit of a long grey smock that went down to her ankles, replied
"Oh, congratulations. I didn't know."
"Thank you, I'm really enjoying having a home life again." Ofelia walked up to the pool, and peered down into it, a brain shot up out of the water at her, and she caught it in mid air with a cool indifference. “I see they’ve been studying Firmament technology here.”
“Firmament?” Alice asked.
“Oh, Lady Aesculapius is an alien, her species is the Firmament,” Jason explained.
Alice nodded very slowly, “After everything I’ve seen today...sure. I’ll roll with that. Aliens are real, I’m a clone, brains attack people, people make trippy memory pools...sure.”
“To save you the shock, we’re all also from alternate realities from this one,” Blanche noted.
Alice just stared at Blanche unblinking. “Okay. Cool. Totally normal. Sure. But…if Lady Aesc is an alien...Why does she look human, then?”
Ofelia looked back at them as the brain wiggled in her hands, “You’re asking the right sort of questions, Alice McLeod.” She dropped the brain back in the pool, and it began to swim back to it’s flock. “This explains what the CEO here has been doing with all the brains from the Toppers. This pool has to have the collective memory of thousands of people. A veritable…” Ofelia gave a little laugh that actually made her sound like the child she was, “Think tank!”
Blanche moaned, “Well, you and Meistras have to be involved in this, then.”
“Meistras?” Alice asked, trying to keep up.
“A rogue Firmament who is always causing us trouble,” Jason answered.
Alice pursed her lips, furrowed her brow, and nodded even slower at the news that there were now more aliens.
“She is, but I’m certainly not. Which is why I’m here trying to help you.”
"Excuse me if I don’t trust you Ofelia, but you're still the daughter of my best friend's ultimate nemesis, her childhood teacher who has an obsession with killing her, and is on the run from her own people!"
Ofelia, sighed. "Yeah, look we may have some disagreements Jason..."
"Like about murder? That's a biggie."
"But we can both agree that this whole...blowing up all the universes so there can be only one Utopia Dimension thing is a fairly obtuse plan?"
"Sorry," Alice cut in, "I am absolutely lost again. Utopia Dimension?"
Ofelia turned to her, "They believe they can create a perfect universe. One utopia. Unfortunately they seem to believe it comes at the expense of all the others. And you know how it is, your dad watches some videos online, and then turns into your mom because he died, and then all of a sudden is going on about the dangers of the outer universes when she lives in them!" She threw her hands up, "It's exasperating."
Blanche, meanwhile, had been rummaging around for some towels, and threw a few at Jason and Alice.
"Alright," Alice said, "so why are you here specifically? What does the war between the Cool Revolution and the Company have to do with all that cosmic mumbo-jumbo?"
"Meistras started the war here, propped up someone as the CEO, and helped them develop the technology they've used to take over the planet. They used the memory pool to learn the secrets they needed to overthrow the world’s governments, and that sort of thing. Throw a person in, or lob their brain out, and you don’t need to interrogate them. You can just pop a toe in and live their experiences. By destabilizing it, he prevented something being built here that could stop the Utopia Dimension!"
The three all stared at Ofelia.
"...What...were they building?" Jason asked.
"Oh I don't know, it never existed anymore. But look, the main point here is I'm on your side right now, and Lady Aesculapius and Alice's friends are in danger. Aesculapius stands the best chance of stopping this mess, so I'd like her around. So if you follow me, I'll take you to the CEO and you can get this all cleaned up."
Blanche, who was toweling her hair off, stood up, "If she's in danger then we should get moving now." She threw the big bits of her armor on, and started adjusting the small ones, "I'll finish as we move."


* * *


"Stop, duck behind the counter here," Ofelia leapt over a counter, followed by Alice and Jason, and then Blanche who walked around the side. Toppers passed them, marching carrying their rifles, their computer heads scanning in front of them, "The CEO has control over them, the big flaw in the Company, they're gene-locked to her commands. You can get a way to mess with that, you can turn off the whole army."
Jason nodded, "Just like in the classic film 'Star Wars: Episode I: The Phantom Menace'!"
Ofelia nodded, "Precisely. And if I might say so, yousa guys bombad."
"No, actually, probably don't say that," Blanche noted.
"Yeah, for the best," Jason agreed.
Ofelia pouted.
They kept moving, dodging a few more patrols, before reaching a pair of stencilled oak doors, inlaid with gold.
"Well that certainly looks like the door of a CEO," Alice noted.
"Alright, here you go, it's all you now," Ofelia said. "Good luck, try not to die."
"You're not helping?" Jason fumed.
Ofelia rolled her eyes, reached into her pocket, and threw crystal dust into the air in a circle, forming a glowing portal she hopped through, which shut just as quickly.
Blanche looked at the others, "Just us then. I'll take point, go in with my helmet up in case there's live fire. You two follow, and cover me. Sound good?"
They nodded. And Blanche bounced up and down on her heels, shaking her shoulders out, muttering under her breath that she could do this.
Then, BOOM. She barreled through the door.


Into a room with a desk at the center, with a woman sitting in it, and two wings of Toppers with guns leveled pointing at her. She broke to a halt, but not because of the guns. Jason and Alice followed, and also stopped. For them, partially cause of the guns yeah, but also for the reason Blanche had stopped.
At the desk sat a woman with white hair, wearing a matching skirt and blazer, a sly smirk on her face. They'd seen that face before, after all it was also Blanche's. When travelling between alternate realities, one is almost certain to run into themselves. This can be very educational, it can teach you things about your own life. Show you paths you could have taken, and give you pause to reconsider your future. Unfortunately in this case, Blanche seeing that in this universe she had grown up to be the head of an evil company running a dystopia did none of those things. It just made her feel like absolute shit.


"I'm glad you finally made it. Welcome, it's good I can finally put the last bits of this rebellion to rest once and for all...and with the added bonus of the rest of you."
"Where's Lady Aesculapius?" Blanche yelled.
"Your friend?"
"My girlfriend!"
"You are aware that she's an alien?"
"Of course I'm aware of that."
She shrugged, "No matter. Once we've dissected her, we'll understand a lot more about her than you do. Oh don't give me that look, we're not going to kill her. We can't keep studying her if she's dead! But you're not the real star here, whoever you are. Alice, or should I say Subject 23, would you step forward?"
Alice grimaced, and moved ahead of Blanche, "So you're the CEO. I've wanted to kill you for years."
"Years? You're not even one year old yet," she picked a tablet up off her desk, and walked in front of it, leaning back on the front edge, "what do you think you did, bringing your friends here? You really thought you fought your way through an army that can subjugate a planet to see me?"
Alice's face flushed red.
"Of course you didn't. You led the most important rebels to me, and we'll torture the details out of them on where to find and kill the rest," there was a twinkle in her eye as she leaned her head forward to say the next bit, "and they'll make excellent Toppers after that."
Alice raised her gun to unload on the CEO, when that other Blanche tapped her tablet, and Alice lowered the gun and froze in place.
"Oh goody. It works. Look at this!" She twirled her finger in a circle, and Alice rotated around.
"Stop it, please, stop moving me...I'm not your puppet...I'm..."
"The chosen one? Yes, that was a funny little story Professor Meistras' daughter thought up. It certainly did the job though! You thought you were an easy answer to it all, one person can take down the whole system if they're special and brave. Just like we wanted you to think."
"Your whole system is evil," Alice said through clenched teeth.
"Please, let her go!" Jason yelled.
"I won't let her go. This is what she's made for. The system isn't the problem. Subject 23, don't you understand? The system killed Alice McLeod because it cared. And the system made you, to destroy her dreams and allow me to cut out people's brains, replace them with computers, and kill anyone in my way! It's not broken! It's a system built of love. I'm making the world a better place. Once I slaughter everyone who opposes me, there will be no war. And I can get the Company back to what I originally dreamed it would do: deliver packages on time to the consumer. And also rule the world, but the package delivery time is important to me personally."
Jason and Blanche looked at each other, and Jason moved to raise his gun, but Alice turned, pointing her gun at his head, "I'm sorry, I can't control it Jason," she stammered.
"I know it's not you, Alice. Keep fighting it."
The CEO laughed, "You think it's just her? All three of you were in my memory pool. It soaked into you. Watch this."
She hit a key, and Alice and Jason struck a disco pose, with Blanche following suit half a second after. The CEO laughed, and hit more things on the tablet. They moved forward, backward. Hopped three times. Laid down and licked the floor. She laughed and laughed.
"Jason," Blanche whispered, "I need you to promise me something," they were all doing an invisible hula now.
"Sure," he strained.
"You're a good person Jason. I mean that. You can save people with kindness, your heart can grow. I'm only good for one thing and...After today, Aesc will never let me travel with her again."
"What are you--"
"Shh. She won't. So promise me you'll be there for her."
"Blanche what are you planning on doing?"
"Promise."
"...I promise."
"Good."
Jason wished he could have read her face.
Wiping a tear of laughter away, the CEO smiled,"Oh good good good. But while we do get to have some fun, I'm afraid that it's the end of the line for you Alice. Thank you for your service."
Alice raised her own gun to her head, and several things happened very quickly.
Blanche Combine bolted, and her hand was on the gun in Alice's hand before the finger could move on the trigger, and then it was in Blanche's hand, and she was running, and the Toppers were turning towards her, and the CEO Blanche was tapping frantically at the tablet, when Blanche pulled her helmet off to reveal her face, and the CEO went white.
"Shit," the CEO said, and Blanche raised the gun to the CEO's forehead, then blew her own brains out across the desk as she grabbed the tablet from the CEO with her other hand. Dropping the gun, tearing the straps off her left gauntlet with her teeth, she dropped it to the floor and placed her hand on the tablet. It lit up with a genetic match, and Blach simply tapped the command to put every Topper on Earth to sleep.


She was panting, and Jason and Alice were staring at her in shock.
"You should be able to move now, I turned that off too," Blanche noted, setting the tablet down on a part of the desk free from brains and blood. She ran the bare hand through her hair, and let out a deep breath, her eyes were watering.
"Blanche..." Jason said.
"I know," she replied, "it's over for me. I couldn't think of any other way to save both of you. I'm sorry."
"...Thank you," Alice said, "you did save us. You saved the planet."
Blanche just turned, chin down, "Let's go find my girlfriend before they cut her up."


When they found Aesc, she was sitting up on a surgical table wearing a paper gown, taking selfies with a group of surgeons and scientists.
"I like the filter with the dog tongue, don't tell anyone though, it's a bit of a secret. Say cheese!" They snapped a selfie, and Aesc shook the scientist's hand, "I'm so excited for you to cut me up, I've never been a specimen before--oh! Blanche! Jason! Alice! You all made it. Guess what, I'm going to help science."
Blanche sighed, and then called to everyone in the room, "The procedure is cancelled. CEO's orders. Get this lady her clothes back.” The room followed her orders, and Aesc looked a little disappointed as Blanche and Alice helped her off the table.
"I was going to do a science!"
"Aesc, I love you, but you can be absolutely ridiculous sometimes."
"Did you save the planet while they were experimenting on me then?"
Blanche didn't answer, just stared forward.
"She did," Alice answered, "Blanche did it single-handedly when Jason and I couldn't. She's a hero."
"I fucked it up," Blanche growled.
Aesc poked her in the side, "What are you being a grumpy face for?"
She shut her eyes, "Aesc...look. I made some promises to you when we met each other. Ones I took seriously. I followed them. But I broke them today. I killed the CEO. I shot her in the head because...I couldn't think of another way to stop everything before Alice died. I wasn't good enough. And I broke your trust."
Aesc shook her head, her mouth open a little, her face going pale. She reached a hand out to touch Blanche's face, "No, don't you dare think that. You were in a corner Blanche. Those rules were just so you'd stop doing terrorist assassin death cult things. You saved my friend Jason, you saved our new friend Alice. You saved me. You're part of our family our...Factory Family! Can that be a thing I like that?"
"I'm going back to the moon, you'll be better off without me."
"Will we?" Jason asked. "Don't you want to come with us Blanche? We'd love to have you. After all, it's a big ship for just the two of us."
Blanche looked between them, "Are...are you sure?"
"Of course we're sure! Alice can come too if she likes."
Alice shook her head, "I need to fix the planet. And we still need to find my friends now."
Aesc stroked her chin, "If only there was a way to control all the Toppers so they could completely dismantle the evil Company, bring Alice's friends into the room, and also get us all a nice cup of tea."
Jason and Alice looked at Blanche, "Oh. Right. Yes, I'll get right on that."


Blanche, Alice, Aesc, Jason, and all of Alice's friends sat in the meeting room they'd found with the most comfortable chairs, and watched as the Toppers went about destroying the Company, and also carefully laying a foundation for it to become a workers collective.
"My faceless gods," Aesc said, "I think Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace was a documentary."
"Pretty Bombad," Jason agreed.
Aesc turned, cookie half in her mouth, and gave him a double thumbs up.
Alice was busy at the far end of the table going over paperwork, trying to write out a new constitution, messaging the leaders of other parts of the rebellion across the world, and generally doing a good job of being a leader.
"It seems like they're taking the whole 'secret clone mole' thing pretty well," Jason whispered.
"Oh that," Aesc said, "I told everyone the whole clone thing was a feint, that's the real Alice."
Jason frowned, "Are you sure that's the right call?"
"Imagine living your whole life knowing that despite doing everything you could right, people would still look down on you," Aesc said.
He moved his lips to the side and nodded, "I don't really think I have to."
"I don't even think I lied," Aesc said, "everything that was the old Alice is inside her. They just ported the software over. But we should let them get to fixing things up. Blanche transferred control of the Toppers to the whole group of them, so they can finish everything up. It's time to head out."
She pulled the Foce from her pocket, a glistening blue and white marble.
"Blanche, are you ready? I assume you'll need to grab some stuff from your cabin?"
"I do yeah, but I was wondering if you could do me one little favor?"


* * *


Nellie looked out at the perfect beach, "It's wonderful!"
Blanche grinned, "Alright girls, we have the beach house here for the full week, and Lady Aesculapius and Jason have been kind enough to chaperone you with me-"
"And fly us through SPACE!" Pratima added.
"And that! So make sure you're within sight of one of the three of us." The scouts ran off into the water, the crab people clicking at them in welcome, and began splashing around. Predictably, they began singing Baby Shark again.
"I really do hope the Beach House is adequate compensation for nearly frying you--" a crab man said, sidling up to Aesc.
"Oh more than enough, I'm very pleased with it.”
Jason coughed, and Blanche looked over at him, "What's up?"
"Looks like the scouts are really happy?”
Blanche smiled, "Yeah, I'm glad we can do this for them," she looked him in the eyes, "You're not actually fine with me being on board are you?"
He leaned over to see if Aesc was listening. She had joined the scouts in the water and was teaching them the macarena. "...No. I'm not. I'm very thankful you saved us but...you kind of freak me out a little bit."
She nodded, "That's fair. And you're rather annoying, despite saving my life in the pool... But Aesc likes you."
"Aesc loves you."
"So we'll make this work? For her sake?"
Jason held out a hand, "For her sake.”
They shook on it.
"But...there's one more thing Blanche, I've kind of been wondering, have you ever gotten checked out to see if you could use antidepressants?"
She scoffed, "No, I'm fine."
"Are you?"
She screwed her lips up, "Fine, Aesc is a perfect Doctor, so I'll ask her to check. But I doubt they'll help. I'm managing."


















7 days later.
"Oh my god, I can't believe I didn't think I needed these, I feel so much better than I ever have before in my life!" Blanche said, shaking the pill bottle.
"Science is amazing isn't it?" Aesc said, then sighed, "And I almost got to be a part of it."
"Come on then, it's our last night here, the girls are waiting for their sing along."
Around the campfire at the beach, Centro Scout Troop 1187 roasted smores, talking and giggling in groups as Blanche tuned her guitar. Jason and Aesc were attempting to see if they could make a new kind of smore with new ingredients added, like shrimp, all of the attempts resulting in them spitting the results out into the fire.
"Alright everyone, it's been a big week here, and I hope you've all enjoyed the sun, the sand, the ocean dragons, and our crab people hosts. So let's tell them all about a thing we all need, why don't we?"
There was some more giggling, and Blanche played a chord. “Aesc, are you ready?”
“Sand didn’t work on the smore!”
“I would imagine so. Now, here we go…” She sung, and they all called back to her as the fire lit up their eyes.


“The Princess Pat” - “The Princess Pat”
“Lived in a tree” - “Lived in a tree”
“She sailed across” - “She sailed across”
“The seven seas” - “The seven seas”
“She sailed across” - “She sailed across”
“The channel, too” - “The channel, too”
“And brought with her” - “And brought with her”
“Arigabamboo” - “Arigabamboo”


And as they sung on, their notes fading into the night, Blanche Combine began to believe that maybe, she could learn to be happy again.

NEXT TIME ON LADY AESCULAPIUS...

Episode 9: We Were Summoned
By Charles Whitt


“Whenever the Shade began to get close to its prey, she could smell it. A wave of sadness would wash over her, clinging to her like mud.”


On Earth-2, there is a town. A town stalked by a Shade.
It haunts the guilty, making them confess their sins. It hunts the Numbered, draining their life away.
As Aesc and her friends walk the darkened streets and meet with a young woman and her sentient sword, they realize they’re going to have to face an impossible monsters ...










Lady Aesculapius Series 1 is part of 10,000 Dawns, and is a publication of Arcbeatle Press.
Lady Aesculapius was created by James Wylder.
All original elements to this story are the property of the author.
All rights Reserved, Arcbeatle Press 2019.
Our cover art is by Anne-Laure Tuduri.

Any resemblance between persons living or dead, fictional characters, and real or fictional events is either co-incidental or has been done within the bounds of parody and/or satire.

You can learn more about 10,000 Dawns at http://www.jameswylder.com/10000-dawns1.html

 Star Wars has dealt a lot with its space wars, but at its core there has always been a sense that all its conflict starts from past transgressions. From the opening of the 1977 film, where we see the immediate aftermath of a (then) unseen battle, to the wastes filled with the wreckage of endless war on Jakku in “The Force Awakens”, all the way to “Episode I: The Phantom Menace”, which instead of starting from the beginning truly, is already layered in unforgiven history. Darth Maul perhaps sums up the way Star Wars reaches into the cultural histories of its characters with the line:

“At last we shall reveal ourselves to the Jedi, and last we will have revenge.”


And so it starts, and so it continues. But we have a new take on this onscreen now, a new way of looking at the effects of war in Star War. In the new series the Mandalorian, our titular hero is a man who is struggling to reclaim his cultural history. He is constantly driven by the loss of his own heritage, and doing all he can to reclaim it for himself, and his people. He lives in exile, far from the cultural home of his people, the Mandalorians.

But it’s the way this is framed that really is interesting, because we have seen reclamation stories before in Star Wars: indeed much of Star Wars following the prequel trilogy is about characters trying to regain their religious Jedi heritage. But this is different, because the Mandalorian culture wasn’t just lost:

It was stolen.

* * *


Throughout our own modern (not in that Galaxy Far Far Away) history, empires have stolen the culture of people they have subjugated. This theft of culture is often defended by the people who stole it in hindsight: the things stolen are safer and protected in our cities and museums—it’s too backwards or unstable there where we took it from! An argument that ignores the fact that the instability is often completely caused by their own incursions into that culture. Marching in, stealing resources, stealing the wealth of a place, and then taking it’s culture along with it. And ages after, when their descendants are forced to deal with the fact that their ancestors might have done some bad things, they close ranks. They make excuses. The theft has to be justified, in the name of civilization, or the ideals that your society is based around might be pulled back to be less golden than you thought.

I say they, because it is so many cultures who have done this, but I could also say “we”. After all, it’s not like I still don’t see racist caricatures of First Nations people used in public, not like I don’t still hear people try to argue that slavery wasn’t so bad. It’s not like those things didn’t happen. It’s not like it didn’t happen here.

And it happens in the Mandalorian. In what is a rather clever move, Jon Favreau has tied the theft of wealth and culture together into one item: Beskar. A metal that has cultural relevance to the Mandalorians, being used for their ritual armor, it’s also extremely durable and highly valuable. Which makes the way it’s integrated into the plot practically perverse.

Because Beskar is held as a reward for the Mandalorian to retrieve a bounty by an Imperial Official who has survived the fall of the Empire in hiding. He doles out a taste of the Mandalorian’s cultural heritage to him, one piece of Beskar, which has been melted into an ingot that is desecrated with an Imperial Icon stamped into it. There’s more, if he can deliver. And wouldn’t it be nice if it all went back to his people?
It’s a grotesque move: the return of stolen culture as payment, but practically as blackmail. Failing to get the bounty for the Imperial doesn’t only mean he won’t get paid, it means he will forever lose part of his own heritage.

And that heritage haunts this story: when the Mandalorian fails to master riding a beast, he is motivated into trying again by being told how his ancestors used to ride far mightier creatures. People tell stories about his people, they laugh at cultural stereotypes about him, true or not. The Mandalorian is a character, he is an individual (thankfully) not totally defined by the other characters from his culture we’ve seen before (notably Boba and Jango Fett), instead he is defined by the same culture those other character were in, creating a much richer tapestry to play from. We get a taste of that culture here, as our hero returns to a forge-master who holds a place of power in their cultural hierarchy, when he returns that piece of Beskar, she forges him a new piece of his armor in ritual as a reward. She hopes that the Beskar will help Mandalorian foundlings, who we can make a fair assumption are orphans. A culture, far from their homeland, struggling to reclaim small pieces of their legacy. I’d ask you to think of a comparison, but you have many to choose from.

Our hero is also an orphan, losing his parents in the Clone Wars to an invading army of droids, and giving him a deep seated prejudice against them.

Which of course builds to our finale. We have followed our hero to get his bounty, and reclaim his culture, and he gets there only to find that it is a child. A stolen child.

Taken from their people, their culture, their legacy. One that, despite being an alien, has so much in common with the Mandalorian.

Now, we can only wait to see where the show goes from here, but I’m very intrigued that this show is taking on these topics, and I look forward to seeing where the Mandalorian’s search for his own legacy goes.

We've got something special for you this week, something exciting. If the first five episodes were one running story arc, and our sixth was a deep breath, this week we're running again. And harder than ever. You're really in for a treat, so get ready.

Oh and hey, if you enjoy this story, why not leave a tip for the writer on their Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/samuelmaleski96 ? 

​If you need to catch up, you can find the previous episodes HERE.

If you want to listen to these stories, you can find links to our podcast version HERE, though note that it runs a little bit behind the text versions!

 “How are you doing that?” Alexander queried as her face popped in through the room’s technological arsenal, and went through, in the space of a few seconds, at least a dozen crude but colourful filters.

 “Listen, I have other meetings after you, so can you just turn the synth music down a bit?”

 “I’m being serious here! Stop … Chortling!”

 “Walldammit, couldn’t you have picked a better name? Sounds like someone sneezing. Okay? Is that
good? Nothing more? Can I start? Thank you.”
He coughed, putting his thoughts back in order after the impromptu semi-canonical interruption. “As I was saying – I’m here to talk to you about your new job.”
“I like the old one just fine, thank you very much. Unemployed, but with gusto. That’s me.” That was all very distressing. Not so much the kidnapping part, you get used to those in this line of work, after the first couple of centuries at least. Although, they certainly must have been ingenious to snatch her away from her Factory in an instant like that: crude, but creative. No, it was rather the cheery corporatism of it all, those words that felt like a stale whiff of clean carpets and mint chewing-gum hitting her straight in the soul. It was like sinking slowly in a mire made of melted watercoolers.
“Well, I’m afraid you don’t get much say in this. See, the Dyson Corporation now owns you.” No evil glee, just a statement of fact.
Aesc did a double-take, and then squared it. “Oh no. Please tell me you’re not one of these slavers people? I mean, that’s morally disgusting, but above all, it’s just so terribly dull. Paperwork and whips and weak-willed men all around.”
Her welcome committee looked deeply offended. “Of course not! We don’t trade in bodies, that’s illegal. We deal with ideas. Intellectual and ontological property. In short, we have acquired your brand, ma’am. And we are going to launch a merger process in order to turn you from Lady Aesculapius to Lady Aesculapius™.”
“Okay, that’s impressive. How do you do that?”
Alexander looked puzzled. “Do what?”
“That ™ sound. I can’t do it. Oh wait, I just did it. This is amazing, I think at least two philologists somewhere in the space-time continuum just came, did you re-arrange the basics of language around this place?”
He didn’t seem especially interested by the question, his voice trailing off, going through the motions of some pamphlets he had no doubt ingurgitated in preparation for eventual inquiries. “Oh, we did. We own about 45% of the entire galactic lexicon at this point. Brand names were a useful precedent – once you’ve copyrighted your unique Chunky Chocolate, it’s only one small, conceptual step before you own the words Chocolate™ and Chunky™. The ideas and meaning, yours to tweak, sell, and promote in an all new, four-dimensional market space. We’re looking to move onto articles and pronouns, soon. Very lucrative market, that. Imagine selling gender-neutral pronouns as an optional downloadable content pack, and sticking fines on those that circumvent these new rules. Billions to be made.”
The time-traveller’s headache had slowly receded, and now she felt the weight of the situation with awful clarity, details clear like shiny pixels on a flatscreen. “And how exactly did you get hold of … me? The idea of me?”
“Well, of course the Firmament is normally off-limits, but we made a quick arrangement, everything very formal. After all, this is nothing but a business venture, and they can’t really stop those, can they? No matter if we employ certain techniques traditionalists would deem … unorthodox, or risqué.”
“Yes, you’re sooo risqué. Nothing more provocative and cutting-edge than trading stock options with your co-workers at lunchbreak like if they were Pokémon made of paperclips.”
“We do actually own all Pokémon, by the way. They’re a few floors down, had to build a whole park. But to get back on track – we assured your superiors that they would be excluded, and made them sign some forms to this effect. They do love forms. And I’m sure they sent a copy to you, except … Well, you didn’t sign it, did you?”
Lady Aesculapius had seen galaxies burn and timelines curl onto themselves in improbable spasms, she’d seen the flights of dragons and the flesh-fortresses of the Kuiper Belt, but she had never witnessed, through all her countless lives, something as outrageous as a man implying she would be, for one second, interested in checking the mail sent by her (in-name-only) bosses. The “NO” she served in response had the general consistency and warmth of liquid azote.
“Well, you’ve got your answer then.”
“I didn’t agree to any of this!”
“You didn’t say no. That’s consent. Too late now, ain’t it? Plus, don’t worry, it’s not all bad. I’ve been integrated about ten years ago, and my life has been fantastic ever since!” A pause. A smile, three seconds of flashing white teeth, one, two, three, and then back to the patter, like a typewriter’s mechanism snapping back into place. “You probably wonder what that entails, concretely, don’t you?”
“Well, yes. A bit. A big bit.”
“It’s nothing too fancy really – the bonding process with our computers here at Dyson’s Dawn will essentially make your being, your thoughts, receptive to the fluctuations of the stock market and the input of our shareholders, creative teams and some select members of the paying public! It’s a fantastic opportunity for most folks, really. So many of them feel lost, abandoned, like they are worth less than nothing. But we prove them wrong! We can show them that they have value – everyone has value, and that value can be estimated and sold! We are a people’s business, through and through. Making each transaction a human story. More than that – an adventure!”
Aesc was now staring at him with the same half-appalled, half-endeared expression you usually save for unruly puppies that have eaten a bar of soap in one bite and for your Libertarian uncle after he’s had a few too many whiskey-colas.
She was hesitating between five different witty retorts and about twenty-nine very elaborate and colourful epithets for the man in front of her when the white room suddenly turned dark and red, the monitors flashing crimson warnings. A siren probably would have been blaring had the local authorities not thought some vintage, passionate Mozart would be more elegant. And that Mozart piece would probably have been pleasant to listen to, had the local authorities then realised it didn’t convey well enough the urgency an alarm is supposed to evoke in the listener, therefore deciding to set it to a throbbing dubstep beat that sounded like sweat and headaches. The overall effect was, to say the least, disconcerting.
“Oh.” Alexander stated, deadpan. “That’s the Murder Alarm. It means someone has been murdered.”
“How perspicacious.”
“God. Janice has taken her yearly one-week break. That means…I should get that, shouldn’t I…Unless…Aren’t you some kind of spacefaring mystery-solving lady-shaped alien?”
“That’s certainly a way to put it.”
“Well, then, just stick with me and help out! And we’ll sign the paperwork afterwards. Shame. I love signing paperwork. I made a “GOOD JOB!” sticker just for you, the glue is going to be dry …”
“Oh no…”
“I know! Well. Doesn’t matter. Follow me!”
He was halfway through the door when he realised she hadn’t moved a muscle. Slowly and deliberately, she batted her eyelashes and cooed - “Annnnnnnd if I don’t want to help out the people that want me to literally sell my soul to the stock market?”
“Well, I don’t like your tone, for starters – yes, we legally kidnapped you, but does that suddenly give you the right to be all rude about it?! And, well, as for the answer – did I mention we also have your companion here?”




* * *


And now,
THE WHIMSICAL ADVENTURES OF JOLLY JASON AND HIS FUZZY FRIENDS!™




Jason had never been a rabbit before!
It was strange, feeling human consciousness crammed into an unfamiliar shape, eyes shifting to see the world not as tangible objects, but a collection of pastel drawings animated at twenty-four images per second, bodies dissolving into lines, biological functions being replaced by the constant low bass of the invisible pen drawing his contours, giving him life! But also, kind of awesome! Because this is a no-sadness zone! All the fuzzy animals in the house were so happy seeing him pop into reality! Cheeky the Musical Hamster tap danced all the way up and down the shelf they had all elected as a den, while Gary the Gecko stuck his tongue out in approval!
Jason was very confused at first! It was a strange transition, waking up here after falling asleep in Aesc’ ship! He had a strange dream, where odd accountants were talking about his copyright being up for grabs, and part of a very attractive bundle! But that all seemed silly now! He could feel the pull of the house around him, all colours and cheer! It beckoned to him, ordered his body to merge with the ebb and flow of the unstable world around him, to merge with the influx of narrative commands overloading his brain, whispered voices of wizened shareholders and naïve children, shouting instructions at the top of their lungs, clawing at his brain, ordering him what to do, ordering him what to become!


something was wrong


how had his body changed that way anyway


he was pretty sure he wasn’t a rabbit before


oh god did he get drunk and lose himself in a gathering of the Furry Church


again


no


there was still pain echoing in his joints


where his legs had been twisted into paws, into springy springy little rabbit hands!


he could feel something else – his body connected. globalized. so much input. so many careful springs and triggers and switches ready to be pulled and activated every time money trickled down pipes unseen. a human kickstarter, each stretch goal stretching his body, his mind on a bionarrative rack, aching under the hammer blows of one consciousness, one brand. repeatedly bearing down his brain, two letters.


™. ™. ™. ™. ™. ™.


Jason Jackson™. the Jason Cinematic Universe. he could feel spin-offs growing inside him like cancer, supplementary organs, glands sweating a golden pus. his memories had been spread out and flattened, streamed to the world for a reasonable fee nine dollars ninety-nine the first month fourteen dollars twenty-five for every subsequent one he kept remembering things in the wrong order. or was it the right order now, the trickling of coins giving the finger to time, emotions, his very identity


he wanted to


GET AWAY


GET


Silly rabbit!


OUT


but he couldn’t, because every time his thoughts wandered to the heretical belief that there might be something out there, something that wasn’t Dyson’s Dawn, something that wasn’t Producing Content, he felt the jaws of the pastel house snap around his body, tasting blood, revelling in it, drawing on his marrow and lymph to make the button eyes of the animals more shiny, more eco-friendly, and by the way have you purchased the new Jolly Jason Rabbit Plushie only seven dollars thirty-five order one [HERE]


he struggled, but couldn’t help embracing the fun of it all! All the animals were cheering on their new friend! But suddenly, something came over the happiness of the festivities! The mice had spotted the dreaded Captain Whiskers, the evil cat!
“Oh no!” said Gary the Gecko!
“Oh yes!” said Captain Whiskers, who had jumped on top of the shelf! Thankfully, the wise gecko had planned for such an occasion, and out of nowhere pulled a hammer that he bore down on the feline’s o so boopable snout! His nose was so red now, ha ha ha!
That gave time for the other members of the animal congregation to scamper off, the little rapscallions! But Jason, still unused to his cute little rabbit paws, didn’t know where to go, and stumbled from the shelf, and down to the floor! A book that he had dislodged had landed on top of him, and so, he was comically flattened into a white fuzzy square with two rabbit ears sticking out! Ha ha ha!


he was pretty sure he had broken every bone in his body but then again his body didn’t really have bones anymore, just the idea of those. it hurt but did not hurt. his body bent and broken but already healing as the regenerative plot was flowing through his veins, like a strong medicinal alcohol, the kiss of the company, regenerative and healing narrative principles for all the family.


so many feelings emotions sensations


too much


The last thing he thought before he passed out was “dammit, why couldn’t I have ended up in one of those high school comedies instead”.


* * *


“So, let me get this straight.”
“Mmm-mm.”
“You have managed to create a whole bubble-dimension made of thought.”
“Yep. Well, not so much thought as media, I suppose. Bio-memetic tech. The Noth are ready to sell their secrets, for the right price. And Dyson Wall knew how to make a price very right indeed.”
“Yeah, yeah. And you’ve named it after your founder, and are now stirring this invasive dimension from one reality to another.”
“We prefer the term ‘friendly takeover’”.
“No, but like. It’s a giant bubble. Named after a guy called Dyson.”
“Oh no.”
“And you didn’t even think …”
“Don’t go there.”
“To call it a Dyson Sphere?!!!”
Alexander just let out a deep condescending sigh in response.
It was impressive, though, Lady Aesculapius couldn’t deny it. Evil, of course, but in that flamboyantly customer-friendly way. As the lift was taking them down from the administrative areas to the main bridge, she could behold the sheer scale of the main chamber, a round space of metal and LEDs, several kilometres in diameter, each wall holding, between programs being broadcast and the latest news report from the stock exchange, vast, contained fictional spaces, flickering in and out of existence. A space of perpetual entertainment, removed from time, fashion, or even quality. Indefinitely prolonged copyright, suspended in the space between the seconds, erected into a monument to the glory of one billionaire’s monopoly.
And down below, on the vast silver promenade that bisected the sphere as in the middle of a desperate search for pi, among the little green shrubberies and the purple neon glow of the soda vending machines, completing the chromatic arrangement in a most distasteful manner, a body was lying in a gingeolin pool. Lying ™, might not be the right verb, though, and not just because it costs fifty cents per use these days. “Strewn about” would be more appropriate, or “scattered”, or any of those terms that imply a passage from the biological to the geographical, as human features get disseminated into an array of abstract pieces that merge with their surroundings, bits of grey and pink and red that you can only reconcile with the fearful symmetry of the homo sapiens sapiens through tough thorough detective work.
Aesc could discern more and more details as the golden disc of the elevator was sliding down a transparent tube. Not much in the way of actual body parts, though. As far as butcherings go, that was an impressively thorough one. His dismembered members had been dismembered a second time, the body ending up like a jigsaw for ants. Also, she could see that the Crime Scene™ was surrounded by a bunch of people in oversized animal costumes – not unlike those you could spot at these sporting events Jason asked to see once, but of course, in the fizzy drink-ridden atmosphere of a stadium, they had appeared far less threatening than they did here. It might have been the pink kalashnikovs, though, she noted. Probably necessary to keep the public at bay – there was quite a crowd, in patterned t-shirts and shorts, a lot of them with younger kids, wandering about the esplanade, waiting on small hovercars that were taking them to and fro to the different diegeses contained within the platinum-laced entrails of the sphere.
“You’ve got tourists?” she asked.
“Oh yes. It’s quite a popular destination,” Alexander stated. Some actual emotion, this time. Bit of a shiver in the voice. He was worried about this disturbance in the calm – to the mind of a trader, nothing more eldritch than an unexplained spike in the zigs and zags of the stock; their dreams are haunted by crash-shaped avatars of the weird, trading yellow rags for a piebald pattern of unregulated or deregulated zeroes and ones. The fear was making him a bit more likeable, the precision of his patter struck by shakes and stutters. “We … We’ve evolved organically from the streaming systems of the past. Biological capitalism, Mr. Wall called it – we need the law of the jungle ‘cause that is how Darwin works his magic. Why just have a place you can navigate using the galactic web? Make what you own into a location, and turn every informatics device, every computer, into a magic portal to this land of possibilities. Those people, and their children, they can visit all the licenses that have defined their imagination, and they don’t need to pay more than a very reasonable fee – no need to worry about accommodation, about transport… We’ve streamlined the whole thing: no boring practicality, just our brand, undiluted, for everyone to enjoy and share.”
“Well. You still have workers.” Aesc pointed at the rows of mascots down below. “Unless those are robots?”
“Oh no, no, no. Quite human.”
“They don’t look the part.”
“Well … Sometimes, we make a few adjustments. People come to us all the time wanting to upload their minds in here on a more permanent basis: sometimes it’s because jobs are rare, sometimes it’s because they are concerned about the death of their mortal bodies – yes, yes, we can make a copy of the brain patterns and keep it alive for a very long time, it’s a taste of eternity, if not the real thing. Or sometimes they just like our content and want to be part of it! We hold a raffle among the Dawn-goers, with little golden tickets and all, it’s so much fun. You should see how the last winner is thriving: in the real world, he was scrapping metal on the Rat Maze with his husband, and now he and his wife have saved the world ten times over in their own little bubble … Anyway, yes – not everyone comes in with the same level of prestige, of course. Paying customers get a better place, we can’t allow ourselves to become a charity, although we always try to be a humane, compassionate business. So the ones that beg to come in, well, there’s a use for them. Every business needs hands.”
“Fuzzy animatronic hands.”
“Oh, not at all, the suits are them. We replace their skin by synthetic plastic fur, grafted directly on the muscles, their eyes by little plastic bubbles with some enhanced camera implants … It’s all very neat, very efficient – those actually are permanent, not connected directly to the network, although we generally upload them when they’ve served their contract, couple of millennia is the standard. They’re very happy to be embodying the company, honestly: we’ve come a long way from the time people like us were trading in pins and t-shirts.”
Aesc glared at him. “Don’t you dare sully the name of lapel pins, you rube.”
He glared back. His glaring abilities were severely lacking in comparison to hers. It was like a disgruntled kitten trying to cast the evil eye on an oncoming stream train. “You’re not really showcasing a positive attitude, you know. The shareholders don’t like that. Be careful, that’s how you end up a woman in the refrigerator.”
“I’m only a woman from a very technical standpoint, my dear, and if you threaten me one more time, I’ll squash your timeline like an overripe orange. Anyway! Look! A corpse! Whose company is, I’m sure, going to be a lot more interesting than you oh-so-lovely piece of plain white toast vaguely shaped like a human being you!”
She had almost jumped out of the elevator, which, she realised, was actually not the smartest of moves, given that blood, mixed with an inordinate amount of cleaning products, had made the metallic floor incredibly slippery. She almost tumbled down, and, in the five seconds it took her to find her balance again, considered how bruising her backside would affect her real body, somewhere in the Factory, and established a few equations regarding psychosomatic translation in regard of those hypotheses. Then, was overwhelmed by the strange odour of detergent mixed with human entrails, a peculiar brew, mixing the characteristic coppery twinge of haemoglobin with the chemical soup spewed by cleaning droids, in a curious bit of chemical chaos. Finally, turned back and smiled a big happy smile at Alexander, who didn’t know if he ought to look smug, amused, or impassable, and therefore presented to the time traveller an awkward mixture of all three.
“So, cap’tain.” She beamed at him. “What are we doing? What can I, humbled registered trademark in your arsenal can do for the benefit of the all-powerful company?”
“Oh, that’s good.” He approached her slowly, careful not to sully his impeccable dark leather shoe on a rogue bit of earlobe that had lodged itself in a crevice between two metallic plates. “Do keep up that kind of comedy, it’s been focus-grouped, the company always looks better when it allows its employees and products to quip at its expense. Anyway …” He looked around. “I should, huh, investigate. That’s what I’m supposed to do. I mean, in theory. This is a bit new to me. We never have had a proper honest-to-Wall murder here. I mean, some diegetic ones, of course, and there’s the occasional employee termination, but those are just part of the process …”
“The joy of the monopoly of legitimate violence, eh? Literal monopoly, in that case.”
“… Uh, yes, probably, but, yes, this is quite, uh, quite, new.”
Oh good. Now he was properly nervous. She was not one to enjoy murder most foul, but it did have its perks, in how it was clearly unsettling the man, putting him on edge. People on the edge are lovely, they’re always grateful for whatever stick you hand them so they can yank – or “yeet”, Jason would say – themselves out of the chasm below.
“So you mean you haven’t figured out who did it …?”
Baffled stare, jaw dropping, quiff hanging in the artificial wind, oh yeah, that was the good stuff.
“Well … No.”
“Surprising. A man of such perspicacity …”
“Have … Have you?”
She winked. “My sweet boy, my sweet corporate boy, I knew exactly what happened as soon as I saw the body doing its best crushed strawberry impression from the vantage point of that elevator.”
“Did you?!”
She smiled, and turned triumphantly, putting her foot in a stray, squishy bit of gall bladder. Taking a step forwards, she proclaimed - “There’s only one thing that could have done this. Logical, really. And now, watch out, I’m going to do a manoeuvre that surely is in your playbook, the ‘Dramatic Whisper in Someone’s Ear™’.”
She dramatically whispered something in Alexander’s ear.
He turned a whiter shade of white, less untoasted brioche and more virginal snow.
“So. Take me to the thingie, now, would you?”
“I … I’m not sure I can do that.”
“Oh, you can.” She leaned forwards. “Because given the situation, there’s going to be a lot more murders around here, very soon. I’d say the next one should be in around...Five minutes? Maybe ten? Bit hard to determine, really, with how much you’ve screwed up time around here.”
Alexander nodded, and took an oddly-shaped key out of his pocket. “We’ll… We’ll have to go into the sub-basement…take the directorial elevator …”
“Lead on, you stud. By the way, can I get that animatronic bear’s bowtie? Love the pattern. Oh, and fetch me a soda. Love a soda. Diet one though. Always watch the sugar, it’s evil and conscious and wants your death. Oh, and there he goes, without even asking questions. What a good boy.”
She rubbed her hands together.
“Who controls the narrative now, you bunch of rapacious barbaric robber barons, mmm?” She paused. “Wait. Can I get a TO BE CONTINUED™ right here, for added grandiose? Oh wow, it does work. Guess this place does have its good sides …”


[You should now close this computer tab, or lay down your book, to fully enjoy the process of contributing to this collaborative diegesis: Dyson’s Dawn and Lady Aesc™ will love you for it!]


* * *


And now,
THE WHIMSICAL ADVENTURES OF JOLLY JASON AND HIS FUZZY FRIENDS!™


Jason’s™ day had not been easy.
He had been flattened, had swallowed a lightbulb, had fallen into boiling hot water, and had stepped into at least a couple mousetraps (one of which changed into a banana peel for a bit, and you don’t know what the uncanny is before you’ve had a banana biting at your hind legs with teeth made of vegetal fibre). And that was only the first hour.
Thankfully, the buzzing of his prefrontal cashflow had considerably diminished as soon as night had fallen, with all the animals stopping their crazy chases and settling down for some rest. Captain Whiskers had even gone up to him and offered a heartfelt apology, spoken in the deep gravelly voice of someone who liked cigarettes way too much, for munching on him a bit earlier. “It’s just the job, man, I don’t like it much either, but hey, gotta do what you gotta do to keep the viewers happy, huh?”
He had nodded, but in his heart of hearts, he just really wanted to travel back in time to bust the kneecaps of the four Warner Brothers with a titanium baseball bat. In alphabetical order: Albert, Harry, Jack and then Sam.
Anyway, things had quietened down, and he was not eating the marshmallows, roasted over a campfire by Cheeky the Musical Hamster, who had traded tap dancing for some old goth rock tunes. Not a bad singer at all, actually – Jason wondered if he could try and launch a hamster death metal band. Now that, that would be a gimmick.
They had started to open up, through the combined powers of song and sugar. Talking about what their lives once were, before they had been thrust upon the stage. The stories were often the same: ordinary lives, fatal in their banality. A repeated cycle of work, processed food, dreamless sleep; a dull tune played at an unchangeable tempo, becoming inevitable, becoming the only mode of reality they ever could experience. Dyson’s Dawn had been a refuge, then. It opened its gates, just a bit, and through the crack, you could see rose-coloured light showering down on you. It was glamour, love and adventure; the smell of candy and perfume; holographic adrenaline shooting down your veins, letting you make out, in the shadows of your living room, the sharp edge of an enchanted sword, or the outline of a pair of plump lips dying to kiss yours. Your daily dose of magic, for a very reasonable fee, each broadcast a book shaped like alcohol.
And well, when those people so graciously offer you a chance to re-enchant your life that does tend to make you positively predisposed towards them. Bluebell the Mouse’s kids wanted her to take them to the Dawn, and she did, and then they wanted it more, and she couldn’t say no, she couldn’t choose to skimp on joy, especially with the divorce, so again and again they wandered the promenades and watched superheroes chase bandits in neverending circles of right and wrong. Until one day she was offered a job that’d make paying for those things so, so much easier. Others had had even less of a choice. Jobless actors taking the one chance they could after their studios collapsed; people whose intellectual copyright had been sold by their family, or employer, in exchange for some compensation. Gotta send little Timmy to college, and the fees weren’t getting any more manageable. They all had been flushed down the production pipeline.
Keeping their sanity should have been hard. For some, it had been – Cheeky was the first to shipwreck into this plot, and he could remember days merging into weeks, the sun and moon nothing but pastel stains. No sleep, no rest, no peace: his existence was a job now, and every minute of life work. But, as more joined him, they had come to, if not strictly enjoy the lifestyle, at least tolerate it well enough. It was all in the tempo, really, flux and reflux – you were part of the narrative, it was written in your biology, ink mixed with your bloodcells, and thus did not have a choice. Choice had been the worst part of their previous lives: faced with an immense world, filled with perils and bankruptcy and condescending step-parents, you always had this nagging feeling that you ought to do more, give more time, do more work, help more people, help yourself more. But the Plot freed them from freedom. The three-act pattern was like a ballet they had to perform, their nerves made into strings held by unseen choreographs-cum-puppeteers. Paws tapping the floor in cadence, having shed the remnants of public domain humanity. Act one, two, three, and twiiiiiiiiiiiiiirl. Pay-off followed set-up. Twists followed foreshadowing. And when it was all wrapped-up, neatly, with a little rhinestone-encrusted bow on top, they could feel the symphony rise through their lungs and fur, the twin heartbeat of Dyson’s Dawn: ™! ™! ™! ™! ™! ™! ™!
“And so, you didn’t try to…get out? Escape?” Jason™ asked.
“Well, it’s not that we don’t want to.” That was Cheeky, taking an authoritative tone as he was launching himself into a convulsive bout of Backstory. “I mean. I’ve done worse jobs. Loved acting, loved singing, but not much of a future in those so I spent a lot of my time flipping burgers, and believe me, there’s nothing worse for your mental health than finding yourself serving food at a chain restaurant on your thirty-second birthday when you thought it’d just be a temporary arrangement, time for you to get back on track …” He sighed, and dramatically ruffled his pouch. “At least I can put my skills to use here, and there’s not really a boss to yell at me. But it’s…”
“Just…wrong.” That was Armelle the Sad Ladybug, who was sad, and also a ladybug.
“Yeah, that. I mean, I’m not talking about the body. Y’know, getting Whiskers there mauling on you a bit, eh, big deal, not so different than a good ten accumulated years of oil burns.”
Armelle shook her wings enthusiastically, the wind passing through Jason’s synthetic fur, sending cold shivers down his arched back as it sent cold waves down to the raw tangle of flesh and muscles beneath. His attention didn’t waver though, trying to find some normality in extraordinary circumstances, a way to make all of that make sense, fit into the principles Aesc had taught him, as she continued - “But we used to be able to…escape, y’know? I mean, I don’t believe in that godly stuff…”
“Don’t let Whiskers hear that, man loves his bible.” Bluebell scoffed sarcastically.
“…But there was a soul, y’know? To us. To our lives. Oh sure, jobs could wreck your body and make your mind feel like a fucking forest fire, but there was still a dignity. Be it only in having the possibility to say ‘no’, strangle your boss with the telephone cable, and then throw yourself from the fortieth floor to protest the latest ‘human social reduction’ plan.”
The rest of the gang looked at each other. “Well, that went to some dark places.”
“A bit, yeah. I’m Sad™. It’s my brand. What the fuck did you expect?! But you get my point, yeah? Here it’s just … That’s what we get. It’s more exciting, and it feels better, for a time at least, but there’s never anything more. It’s just … heading forwards, without changing, and you can’t think beyond it. No hope. No weird little moments of solidarity with you co-workers. It just moves on, and everyone smiles.”
“But yeah, that’s all academic”, Cheeky interjected. “We can’t leave, we just can’t. Maybe there’s something we’ve forgotten, this place … It does weird things to your brain. But as far as we’re able to see? There’s nowhere to go! Whatever exists here is only what the writers, well, I say writers, pretty sure it’s just a bunch of algorithms, have put there, and I’m pretty damn sure they didn’t put a big ‘DESTROY THE SYSTEM’ button.
Jason™ looked dejected. He did love a big red button. But that bit about forgetting the past? That had given him an idea. A Wonderful, Awful Idea™.
He climbed on top of the tomato soup can he had elected as a chair substitute, raising his paws to draw all eyes on him, and cleared his throat.
“Fellows! I want to talk to you about a thing…something called …”
Dramatic pause™.
“Unions.”
Wait.
He can do that?
Surely that’s –
Ah dammit dammit dammit, quick, quick, shift the narration back to the old cow – yes, you, the writer, move your fat ass, do it quick before he starts going Rosa Luxemburg in this shit! Do it n-


* * *


“Nice corridor you have there. Bit damp.”
“In the memos, we have been told it’s better to call them Circulatory Spaces Aimed At Improving the Flow of Relational Functions™.”
“Oooooof course you have. Also, that’s another corpse right here. We’re on the right track.”
“Oh my –“
Several corpses, actually, Aesc corrected herself. But it was a bit hard to tell – they hadn’t been human in a while, with all the implanting and fictionalisation, just furry drones (not the sexy kind) haunting the underbelly of the sphere. She wondered how their bodies, away from the ideascape, would have coped. Pessimistically, which is just how you say realistically when you want to keep that hopepunk chic to your general aesthetic, they would have died. The trauma of being ground up into fine red mist would cause so much psychosomatic damage, the brain could never recuperate. And that was assuming the bodies were still alive. She had no clue how large the noösphere of Dyson’s Dawn was, temporally speaking – maybe their influence was felt throughout centuries, and in that case, well, they had no reason to relinquish the souls they had captured. With some luck, the empty shells would have been fed some protein soup for a bit and then left to die as humanly as possible in the circumstances, which is to say not at all. At worst, they’d have been thrown in the streets, rotted there, and maybe then recycled, because corporations are faithful disciples of Lavoisier: nothing gets lost, nothing gets added, everything transforms.
She would need to sort things out.
Alexander was lagging behind her. The assurance and composure he had displayed during their first meeting, oh so characteristic from the people who are “just doing their job”, had melted like snow in summertime, and she was left with a confused, bumbling twentysomething who just realized that he’s in way, way over his head. Her favourite kind of person.
She didn’t even need him for directions – she could feel the killer’s mind pulling her in, among those vast, darkened halls. Those were a repository of the corporation’s leftovers: things they had acquired but not displayed, or properly identified. A museum of forgotten songs and thoughts not thought, decommissioned lives waiting for a reboot.
“Loads of clutter, huh?” she observed casually while stepping over a pile of raunchy memories. “You’re spreading faster than you can control. Across multiple realities. Too big to fail already, so you get bigger, and bigger …”
“Well yes, we expand! It’s …”
“Yes, yes, I’ve heard the stuff about your weird boardroom version of the evolution theory. The universe doesn’t work that way. I mean, you’ve tried, and I could even admire it if it weren’t, you know, a disgusting violation of everything good in the universe, but turns out, there are good reasons why one does not map the entire meaning of the universe into a concrete system.” She paused, passing a volley of locked doors. “I mean, don’t you think the Firmament would have tried it by now? But no, we just keep a bunch of assessors in tune with the universe rather than ruling it. Thought is too powerful. Too dangerous. Cast a wide enough net, and you’ll find things so terrible you wish you hadn’t been born to see them. Speaking of, we’ve arrived.”
Another door. Banal. Nothing separating it from the thousands that littered the infinitely expanding web of corridors that ran along the sphere’s edge, save from a distinct aura of dread.
“And behind door number one …” Her hand caressed the handle.
“No! Don’t do that!” Alexander’s reaction had been brutal, sheer reflex, animal instinct sensing something was wrong. He had put his hand on top of hers, preventing her from turning the latch.
“Why? What’s in there? What have the feelers of your company grabbed onto in the depths, mmm?”
“I. I don’t know. It’s just some old stuff that was up for grabs. That’s all.”
“Ah. Old concepts. Well. Nothing to fear, then. Let’s go in, then, shall we?”
“I … I guess …”
The room that unfolded in front of their eyes, the door flattening itself as it was opened and blossoming into walls and screens, wasn’t exactly eye-catching. A few meters of grey polished concrete ending in a vast, dark chasm, metallic railing standing guard to prevent any thinker-by to encounter a deadly tumble down.
But there was something in that darkness. A presence, a whisper – you couldn’t hear it, or feel it, it was existing beyond any sensory process. But it was, impossibly.
Alexander stepped in, slowly, gazing at the darkness. Lady Aesc just casually strode in, leaning on the barrier, stretching herself to get a good look at whatever was there. She invited him to join her.
“Look.”
He complied.
And between the dark, the physical weight of that inky sea, he saw –


a sea of obsidian monoliths rising from the sea, millions slaughtered to turn the waters red in worshipful veneration


the great orange unblinking eye standing in the middle of the world, of the valleys and the mountains and all the oceans of all worlds


the comets dying and wheezing as the flesh of a planet that had no name peeled off, revealing a mess of wiry worms and purpurine-like ichor


He staggered in shock.
“Alexander, meet the Old One™. The Old One™, meet Alexander.”
No sound came out of his mouth – it’s like an alien mind had ripped off his tongue with pincers made of words.
“You idiots did it. You really, actually tried to copyright an elder god. Lovecraft would be so proud, if he weren’t too busy choking on his tongue every time he sees a black guy.” She paused. “You know, at some point I think stupidity can become a quantum force. You’re so thick the mass of your heavy labouring brain redefined reality. Congratulations on setting a new record.”
The young man blurted out, by reflex – “But his lawyers didn’t say anythi-“
“BECAUSE HIS CULT TRADITIONALLY RIP OUT THEIR TONGUE AND EYES IN SACRIFICE TO THEIR DARK MASTER, YOU…YOU…MONKEY!”
Aesc quickly regained her composure through her tried and tested Stress Relief Process1 that involved ritual mantras she’d learned from a seventh-century Buddhist monk, thinking about the relaxing aroma of red mint blossoming in the asteroid fields, and imagining slapping the man on a loop.
“You think this giant piece of meaty calamari even understands what capitalism is? It doesn’t care. You have no power over him, because your ideas don’t structure his world. He’s an older, better…well, not better, quite nasty in fact – but an older story. An older tale. Which you’ve plugged into a system that gives him a direct connection to a billion billion minds. Great job. What do you think he’s going to do with that, mmm? Community theatre, where we all boogie with the fish people while singing Kumbaya? Maybe a picnic? I’ll be sure to bring the potato salad. Of course, it’ll probably seasoned with my soul, but, y’know how these guys are.”
“I…We …”
“Truth be told”, Aesc continued, winking at a few red eyeballs that had materialized out of the pit for a split second, “you never even should have been able to build all that. Reality, and the frontiers between the different, alternate timelines, have been, weeeeeeell, shall we say a bit porous, lately? Kind of my fault, it’s my job to keep that in check. Well, I say job, more like hobby, but I do it with so much class. Anyway, some people have been poking holes through the skin of the universe, and you’ve been fishing into these searching for gold, and instead got a giant fish. With a taste for human minds. Who’s currently busy turning all your staff into protein shakes. Congratulations. I’ll get you a Christmas card or something, but they don’t really do ‘Happy birthday to your beautiful baby boy Shub-Niggurath, the Goat with a Thousand Young’, y’know? You might want to get on that. Much better business idea.”
“I… But… But…”
“We’ve got to stop him now, yes, I agree. Do you agree …?”
“I… Huh…”
“Of course you do. I’ve thought about that. I knew all about your little scheme, by the way – who do you think put my rights, and Jason’s, up for grabs, mmm? I needed a way in, ‘cause I was sure you were going to pull something like that, and I needed to be there to prevent the collapse of the universe, business as usual. Also, blowing up corporations is so, so fun. You ought to try it, best feeling in the universe, it’s like those really chunky cookies with three different kinds of chocolate, only with more proletarian uprising. ‘Proletarian uprising’, mmmm, should be an ice cream flavour, yummy. So anyway, exposition done, back to saving the day. Thankfully, the Firmament is aware of these kinds of nasty beasties, and we’ve got some measures… At one point we just used repellent spray, but like, given the size, you’d probably need a bottle the size of a small moon. So I think using one of the ancient spells that can call or banish the beast seems like the best choice. Turns out, I know the words already, met the big guy once, somewhere in New Mexico where he was doing unsavoury things to the Mothman (don’t ask). So I could just do that.”
“Then… Then do it!” Alexander’s brain had been scrambled enough that he was mostly down with the whole thing. Plus, as Lady Aesc had expected, the bionarrative implants in his cortex just couldn’t resist the opportunity of a big climax – capitalism is so boring even its programming yearns for pageantry.
“Well I can’t.”
“Why?”
A tentacle shot from the darkness with enough strength that it would have decapitated the Firmament agent, had she not gracefully dodged out of the way through some elaborate capoeira manoeuvre. Alexander yelped in a very undignified way at the spectacle.
“I need to say the words. The exact words,” she retorted, brushing off some dust from her shoulder.
“ …And…?!”
“Accurate down to every sound. Which I can’t do. Not when the meaningfield around this place adds random ™s everywhere.
“Oh.”
“Oh indeed.”
“So basically, you’re going to need to shut down Dyson’s Dawn. Or everyone dies.”
“But… Even if I did… I can’t, the system has a failsafe …”
“Oh, the system won’t be a problem. It’s kind of busy right now. I’ve got my best man on it.”








* * *


And now,
THE POSTMODERN NEOMARXIST ADVENTURES OF JOLLY JASON AND HIS COMRADES!™


The cute little animals were all in line! But the story couldn’t begin! Captain Whiskers did not budge! This was all very annoying! Someone ought to be punished for that! What about the children! Would you deprive them of their entertainment, you monster? Let people enjoy things!
But no, they didn’t do anything! They just stood there, and, on cue, Cheeky the Musical Hamster started an aria!
“Arise, ye prisoners of starvation! Arise, ye wretched of the earth!”
This was not a very nice song! The house was shaking apart, ready to fall on the ungrateful little animals!
“For justice thunders condemnation: a better world's in birth!”
Naughty! All of them! Naughty!
“No more tradition's chains shall bind us; arise, ye slaves, no more in thrall!
The earth shall rise on new foundations: we have been nought, we shall be all!”
They were making this innocent show political! Oh, the audacity!
“'Tis the final struggle; let each stand in his place …”
ALERT. ALERT. CRITICAL DIEGESIS FAILURE DETECTED.
“The Internationaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaale …”
COLLAPSE. COLLAPSE. COMPENSATE.
“Shall be the human race!”
COLLAPSE ENGAGED.
Well! That’s not very nice! Those animals should go fu-


* * *


“See? It’s too busy trying to wrap its processes around the idea workers might strike. Should give it a good mechanical aneurysm, got us covered for what, two minutes or so? Time to get going on that computer, you beautiful pre-packaged boy, and turn off the whole thing.
“I… It’s my job…” Alexander already had a hand on the keyboard, but was clearly not thrilled about the idea of the company that had come to define his every moment suddenly vanishing.
“Well, you’ll find another. ‘Employee’ is not a species, it’s not who you are. Write your own damn life! Sure, it’s a bit more complicated than dumping it on someone else, but it’ll be better, in the end. Or at the very least, the faults will be your own.” Ah, yes, the inspirational talk moment. She was good at those.
“But… It’s giving people jobs! Something to strive for… Money…” Fingers closer to entering the right series of commands, now, she was getting to him.
“Hey. You know what’s also a really great way to get money? Suing the company that ripped you from reality. Pretty sure that’s illegal. I’ll get all of you in touch with some transdimensional lawyers, you have a fair chance at ending up millionaires, the whole pack of you. Or you’ll end up in court, it’s basically 50/50, but hey, beats certain death, right?”
That did it. As a whisper rose from the depths, he pushed a few buttons, sliding his keycard into the proper slot, and …
Everything shifted. The dimensions of the room collapsed into nothing, Alexander and Aesc standing on a pinprick of matter barrelling towards annihilation; language bubbled and burst like melting wax; ideas went supernova, birthing in their fiery deaths millions of conceptual periodic tables.
And Aesc cast a spell.
The words were old, impossibly old – so old in fact you couldn’t hear them after a point: they were charged with enough meaning that the human brain and ears couldn’t even process them, leaving only a sort of vague static, like the sound of thunderous waves pouring out the immortal’s mouth.
The vast, evil consciousness of the Old One, all claws and teeth and all-seeing all-knowing eyes, shrieked –
And everything went white.


Dyson’s Dawn, in the real world, was not all that large. One vast room hanging in space – the body of the founder was resting in a chair at the centre of the circular space, his body and brain extended and stretched by a network of cables to meld with the walls and electronic, quite literally embodying the company.
Around him, a good hundred people, resting on slabs, their heads in contact with the tactile interface of the ideascape. The permanent management team. They were awake now, wondering what exactly had happened, remembering the parts of their lives that hadn’t been on-brand enough.
Alexander Smythe, former deputy happiness department deputy head, was baffled at how things had turned out, and slightly horrified – that things had been done to them, that they had done things to people. But somehow, they felt like they ought to smile.
Pageantry. Always works. Aesc smirked, watching the scene from the control screens of the Factory. That had been a good job. Especially on Jason’s part. He had been shaken, the poor dear. She had been hesitant to let him put his life on the line like that – but knowing what Dyson’s Dawn had done infuriated him so much… She had objected, arguing that he was just an ordinary human being, susceptible to all sorts of nasty things.
He had answered that an ordinary human being, an everyman, is sometimes just what the universe needs.
She hadn’t appreciated how true that was until now.
She turned her back on the scene. The Firmament, the police, and an armada of lawyers had been warned. They had helped win the battle, now for the ritual assignment of the blame. That was dull. She’d rather comfort her friend. He’d been lying on a couch, doing his best, warmest smile, in an appreciable but doomed attempt not to worry her.
She would bring him some snacks. And they’d talk. Maybe watch a movie. A public domain one. And then grab some friends and have a getaway somewhere hot and quiet and friendly.
Yeah, that’d be nice.
And, under the crystal archways, they’d dream their own dreams, in the wildlands of thought.​

NEXT TIME ON LADY AESCULAPIUS...

Episode 8: Another Chosen One
by James Wylder


“Of course, there’s always a prophecy. Next you’ll tell me there’s a love triangle.”


Jason has been through a lot - and he isn’t well. Which is obviously intolerable for Aesc, who decided to stage a large-scale “cheer the guy up” operation. One which would be going perfectly.


If it hadn’t involved inviting her former flame Blanche aboard the Factory of Crystal …


If Jason and Blanche were actually able to stand each other …


If they hadn’t all landed in a warzone …


And if they hadn’t interfered with a prophecy about to be realized …


Nailed it.






























Lady Aesculapius Series 1 is part of 10,000 Dawns, and is a publication of Arcbeatle Press.
Lady Aesculapius was created by James Wylder.
All original elements to this story are the property of the author.
All rights Reserved, Arcbeatle Press 2019.
Our cover art is by Anne-Laure Tuduri.

Any resemblance between persons living or dead, fictional characters, and real or fictional events is either co-incidental or has been done within the bounds of parody and/or satire.

You can learn more about 10,000 Dawns at http://www.jameswylder.com/10000-dawns1.html