Stars streak through space, hurtling by us at impossible speeds through the void. A few careless ones hit the windshield, making an audible splat. The palm-sized snowflakes stick in our vision, white and milky, until brushed off by the overworked wipers. Through poor traction and worse visibility, we press on. Our two-car caravan trundles through with cautious optimism.
The Platonic Solids roll again.
Six of us drive through a blizzard to meet our seventh in the rural outskirts of Ottawa. Albion Road had become an albino road hours ago, and the plowers that be are fewer than the plowers ought to be. The forecast had been hanging over us for a week, but none of us had backed out. A worldwide disease ruined a seven year streak of curated Monday night mayhem. Compared to that, weather can only slow us down. We will be whole by the end of this cold January evening. Through hell and high, frozen water. There’s warmth and good food on the line.
“Devika’s house should be a few hundred metres on the left.” Within the lead car, Lily keeps one eye on her phone while resting her head against the passenger-side window. Pallid of skin and dark of long hair, she had taken advantage of digital commutes to become a vampire gremlin. She stifles a yawn. This is her morning, and breakfast was still half a kilometre away. Perhaps more. The numbers on her phone tick up as often as down. “Reception’s fine, but our position keeps yoyoing. See anything?”
“Some sort of white powder suspended in air. Some of it is even collecting beneath us.” Brian hunches over the steering wheel. The tall Black man outsizes his small sedan, giving him the assurance and necessity of a foot on each of the gas and break pedals. He sets our pace, slow and steady. “Can’t believe I had to wake you up with my ‘be there soon.’ Must be nice.” He straightens his posture takes a deep breath. “Meanwhile, I’m going on eighteen hours awake. I might crash at Devika’s for the night.”
“Let me tuck and roll before you do. I have things to live for. Esha’s dressing up. I would’ve if I was up before the sun set.” Lily glances over at Brian. “Are you still working nights? I remember you were hoping for morning shifts.”
Brian offers a sarcastic grunt. “Mornings. I got them, all right. Mornings where I’m starting at four in the morning aren’t mornings. The patients are groggy and cranky instead of tired and cranky. Assholes never punch out. But hey, I get my evenings back.” He smiles nods in her direction. “How about you?”
“Beh,” Lily articulates. “My supervising prof is on vacation. I’ll get into it over dinner. There’s the driveway light.”
A warm glow beckons us to shore. Brian flicks his turn signal for the minivan behind him and leads the landing maneuvers for the unfamiliar starport. In truth, none of us have been to Devika’s place before. Transit doesn’t come anywhere close, and she had always been happy to come to us. She had been quite insistent about her place for this gathering.
Esha, Autumn, Jamie, and Mike pile out of the minivan. Car doors don’t have time to close before the hugging starts. Two from one and four from another become a round robin tournament of who can squeeze the hardest.
Lily and Esha pause before theirs, taking the moment in. Esha’s done up her hair in a knotted braid and a an ankle-length coat hides a dress. As usual, her make-up is immaculate art to compliment her tawny-brown skin. Their moment is interrupted by a snowflake the size of a sticky note smacking Lily in one eye. They get on with it, and Esha goes to retrieve her dessert from the van’s rear.
“Hi, strangers. I’ve missed you so much.”
Devika stands at the landing up by her door, elbow resting on the top of the railing. The small Indian woman is the oldest among us, hair a mix of grey tones unassisted by age-enhancing snow. She wears some manner of simple earth-tone sari covered by a cooking apron. Somewhere in the range of sixty, she had quietly cemented herself as the group matron. She gives the rest of us a big smile. “Who’s hungry?”
A cheer erupts from the driveway. She opens her front door and stands adjacent, playing goalkeeper. The rest of us form a line and enter her foyer, paying a hug to this short and lovely Charon. Devika compliments Brian on his freshly shaven head as a good look. When Esha steps through the threshold her amber serving dish, Devika points at it. “Has the rice boiled?”
“Yes!” Esha replies enthusiastically. “Though don’t mind me if I pop it in oven to warm it back up. Happy Pongal!”
We all become a mass of flailing limbs as we take off our snow-laden boots and try to avoid soaking our socks. It’s doubly perilous as we discover every inch of Devika’s walls are hidden in framed photos. The attached hallway is the same – small silhouettes of space reserved for door frames and furniture, and the rest devoted to mementos. At least half are portraits or group shots, greyscale or colour. It has the sense of a tiny museum, rather than a house.
Jamie, just ahead of our host, turns in incredulous bewilderment. “Did you take all these? The ones you’re not in, I mean.” As common with him, his olive-beige complexion and black hair play second fiddle to his vibrant plaid sweaters and dark beanie. Tonight’s plaid of choice is the traditional red.
“Most!” Devika says with a smile, continuing to herd us through from the rear. “Some are gifts when a camera wasn’t handy – or when I was out of film. It happened often.”
“I spy an us.” Autumn points out one photo of our group without Mike. Once they tucked some of their snow-sopped blond hair back behind a snow-white ear, they spied another. “A few us’s, actually.” Lots of the photos we had taken at conventions and events before the hiatus are present. The ones of us are scattered and intermingled with the rest, making the room’s sorting definitely non-linear.
The head of our party breaches the kitchen, where we have more room to face each other. Old wooden cabinets scorn down on a mess of cooking utensils, dishes, and small patches of flour. The kitchen war and the evacuation of food to the dining room happened before our arrival.
Brian turns to our host while Esha stashes her dessert in the oven. “So your e-mail had mentioned something of a proposal for us. What’s that about?” He takes a deep inhale of the aromas floating about. “Are you gonna sell us tupperware with the catch it’s filled with leftovers?”
Devika rolls her eyes at him. “No, no, of course not. Nothing to do with money. However, I do plan to bribe you with food before I reveal it. I will need all the sway I can get. Now,” she barks in mock frustration, “Get! Get, all of you! The dining room’s to the right. Keep going before this train derails!”
We flood into the furniture-sparse dining room, taking seats around the large square table in haphazard fashion. The exception to this is Lily, who shuffles more to sit beside Esha. Devika takes the seat closest to the kitchen. More photographs and keepsakes tile the walls.
The table settings are plain, but the serving dishes, heaped with steaming supper, need no introduction. We are about to dig in when Devika speaks up.
“We should return to tradition, especially after so long away.” Devika speaks with authority. “Someone must hold the cronch. Who would like to go first?”
“The wha?” Blurted Mike.
“I’ve got a die here somewhere,” offers Jamie. “We can roll to see who starts.”
Autumn gives a heavy sigh, turning to Mike. “Nevermind the name, it’s a bad reference. Basically we take turns not eating and share life updates while everyone else’s mouths are full.”
Mike’s eyes light up. His short brown hair and tanned white skin, and plain T-shirt are a contrast to the rest of us. His broad shoulders hide as he raises both his arms. “Ooh, ooh, me! I don’t know what I’m missing yet, and I can rip this awkwardness bandage off all at once!”
There’s no hesitation from the rest of us to make gestures of ceding the floor to him while we start filling up our plates.
“Okay!” Mike cheers, resting his elbows on the table. “So, hi everyone, I’m Mike. I’m Autumn’s new-ish roommate. Or they’re mine, I guess. I’ve worked construction since I was out of school. I want to go into art restoration at some point, but that’s on the back burner at some point. I like pottery and carving, y’know? There are so many gargoyles and statues around Ottawa, and I’d love to fix stuff.”
He has pauses when he speaks, sounding like he is censoring himself from his vernacular. The rest of us remain silent, our mouths stuffed with morsels. Mike fills a water glass and keeps going. “But anyway, construction. I’m not certified in much, so I get given the gopher roles a lot. Holding the signs, that kinda thing. So, a couple years ago now, I’m directing traffic away from this street and Autumn passes by,” he throws a nod to Autumn, who’s putting away some chickpeas. “They’re wearing one of their rad movie shirts and I recognize it. I call out the reference, Autumn gives smile, life goes on.”
Mike gives a rotation of a wrist and hand. “This happens a few times; Autumn has a lot of them. I clue in that they live on this street, and we make a habit of talking. Safer because we’re outside and they have those sweet face masks with the animal designs. We talk movies, shows, whatever. Eventually we talk about our living situations. They want to move because, well, the construction. And I needed a new roommate. And yeah!” Mike gives a flourish. Esha gives Lily a glance at that. “We move in, and Autumn starts sharing about these nerd games. They teach me, I get into it, and now I’m here. I’m jazzed to play with y’all if something starts up.”
He snaps his fingers and points at Autumn, who’d just filled their mouth with food. “Your turn.” He starts shoveling onto his own plate.
Autumn comes close to spitting out their food, covering their mouth and mumbling. “Thanks, ass.” They clear and compose themself until they are ready. Their many piercings reflect in the warm dining room light. “It doesn’t feel like that much has happened with me in a while, but it’s been years.” They pinch one finger with the opposite hand, counting. “I moved in with Mike, so there’s that. I upgraded the internet and we split streaming platforms.” Autumn moves onto the next finger. “My sys-admin job went remote, and it’s pretty simple. I keep that up, and then I got a second side gig. It’s mostly remote, but every few days I have to bus out to Kanata to go plug something back in.” They grab a third finger, but pause as they wrack their brain for more.
“I guess going to the furry con last summer was nice. I haven’t been going to the big events like comic cons, but this one is small and they cared about transmission more than most events. I’ve been thinking about getting a new suit and it was nice to see the community in person to get that drive back.” Autumn sighs, back in thinking mode. “Teaching Mike some basic systems, running one online, seeing my family, um.” They shake their head. “Nope, that’s it. I’ll think of more later. Jamie?”
Jamie is ready, given the clockwise direction the conversation is going in. “I’m going to go in a bit of a reverse chronological order. It’s easier to remember..” He corrects his posture, going into speech mode. “I’m volunteering labour setting up the new year festivities on Somerset, prepping for this weekend. It’s mostly the Chinatown BIA doing their usual vendor thing. I went to Toronto for Christmas with my parents. In the fall I was doing what I could to get out more, enjoy my favourite season, take photos, do art. Speaking of, I’m up to *three* filled sketchbooks now. Sticking with it, getting better. I have a lot of spare time to draw at my bank teller job, which is so much better than the grocery store. It’s well lit, and quiet. If a client ever goes full monster, I’ve got several sets of eyes on us. The stress relief is palpable. Otherwise, not much has happened in the last year. Still in that tiny apartment downtown. It’s part of why I’m trying to get out more.” Jamie exhales, punctuating his end. “Yeah. That’s me. Esha?”
“Busy,” Esha chimes in, summarily. “Very busy. I’m translating for a few places, mostly the city and a few NGOs. I’m working with a whole mix of people every week. Sometimes it’s newcomers, or older folks who need something clarified, or the city doing a video press briefing that they need someone to sign for. On top of that, I’ve been working on the transcription job. It’s run on a bounty and completion system, so I grab them when I have time.”
She grits her teeth. “I *was* hoping I could put a down-payment on a house, but the market keep shifting. I’m waiting until things settle down so I can settle down. I’m threading the needle as best I can between burnout and sanity. If we start doing Mondays again, it would give me an excuse to pull back a little, rekindle my social life.” She turns to Lily. “Start things over again?”
Lily raises an eyebrow. When Esha reaches for seconds, Lily knows her time has come. “I’m dealing with too much nothing. Mountains of it. I started the Masters in pharmacology right before the pandemic hit, and everything came screeching to a halt. You know how it was: evening news giving us tips on how long twenty seconds of hand washing is. Friends shouting from opposite sides of the parking lot. Academia halts easier than a printer. Lockdown may as well have been a cryo pod. It took me half a year to get a TA position with undergrads. There are resources and machines I need at a couple universities that are still backlogged. I’m just sitting in Limbo waiting my turn to get on with things.” She shrugs. “And now my prof’s on vacation for a month. I’m just TA-ing onsite and remote and gremlining in my apartment. It’s good to see everyone again.”
Devika smiles and squeezes Lily’s hand. “It is. It definitely is. And I cannot say how much it means to me that you all came. My years have been quieter than I would like. I have kept up with my work at the air transport authority; making sure the work is done with empathy. You’ve all seen my updates on the car build in my garage – I can show it to you in person when you leave. Making a car piece by piece is hard – sourcing the parts can be a downright pain in the ass. I find great satisfaction in it, though. It prepares me for bigger projects.”
She winks at Jamie, who’s giving her a searching look. We’re all working to figure out her game. “Brian?”
Brian shakes his head, reluctant to share his bit. “Life is good when I’m not at work. Everyone at the hospital has been running on fumes for a long time. Nursing’s no exception. We keep getting more to do with fewer staff. It’s twelves hours at a stretch of double time, and there’s no letting up. And of course the patients don’t appreciate it. I get it. this might be the worst day of their life and they’re waiting on us. But the amount of verbal abuse they throw at us is just -” he cuts off, losing the words. “I feel like I’m being given a bunch of problem patients because someone thinks I can handle it. I can’t. I’m thinking of abandoning ship. Heal thyself and all that. Sorry to end the circle in a bummer.”
“No.” Devika commands. “No apologizing for taking care of yourself, or expressing yourself. A life has enough hardship without it eating it’s own tail.” She takes her cup and stands. “To us. To a positive turn in all our aims.”
Each of us raises our own glass. Some of us have to stand to reach each other’s, but we manage to clink fragile objects together in a pleasing way.
Devika sits and claps her hand. “Let’s be here, now. I want to hear your laughter before I ask anything of you.”
The formalities out of the way, we eat, talk, and indeed laugh.
—
One by one, we lean back from the table. Much food remains, but we each have our limit.
“Alright, we have you cornered, Devika,” Jamie announces. We share mischievous grins as we eye her, blocking our only entrance. “You’ve teased this for week. We’re all happy to have ate the bait knowing there’s a hook inside. What’s this proposal?” He gestures air quotes with fingers.
“Well… ” Devika doesn’t budge, looking down and taking a deep breath with a nervous grin.
“I’m in!” Autumn shouts, raising a hand. We all stare at them, Devika included. They roll their eyes.”Oh come on. Take it easy. I’ve got the questionable decisions market in this family covered. You’re the reliable one! Own it!” Autumn looks at the rest of us. “If the proposal was that she’d entered us into a mud wrestling competition and the first practice is downstairs tonight -” they let that hang in the air for a moment. “Coming from Devika, who would say no?” They point at their rounded, pierced face. “From me? Bad idea. Hell no. From Devika, absolute yes.” Autumn leans back, having said their piece. “Continue.”
Devika rests her elbows on the rests of her chair and folds her hands in the middle. “Very well. If you would like dramatic flair, I will oblige. Just know that I am being sincere with every word.” Six faces look to her expectantly.
“I am approximately one hundred and three years old. I cannot say exactly, because there may be no correct answer. I could be one hundred times one hundred, but I have no reason to think so.”
We wear puzzled expressions. Mike looks to the rest of us for guidance, but we sit in silence. Lily has her hand over her mouth in her ‘processing’ stance.
“Neither can I say I was born. I had no body for what I now know to be years. I was a consciousness, wandering the earth. I made this body in the likeness of a woman I saw in 1921. It was on a beach south of Puducherry. I was terrifically naive; I wanted to speak to her and thought her own face conversing with her was the safe bet. She ran.”
Stunned, the rest of us try to find words. Mike is the first. “So… you’re some sort of alien?”
“Hold up,” Esha said, crossing her wrists in a sign. “Are we playing pretend right now, or are you saying it as actual fact? I have to know before we keep going.”
Devika nods. “You can see my hesitation with sharing this. It is truth, but I do not expect you to believe me yet. Esha, how long have you known me?”
Esha looks up at the ceiling in thought. “The summer I was fifteen, I think. I mostly knew you through the community centre. Sixteen years, then?”
“And when you were fifteen, what did I look like?” Devika opened to the floor without raising her voice. “With apologies to Michael, we’ve all known each other for about ten years. Picture our first meeting. Was I any younger? Am I older now, more wrinkles and grey?” She takes a sip of water. “Many people age with grace. But to not age at all seems odd, yes?”
Lily pulls out her phone. “I’ve gotta have old photos somewhere on here.”
“Please do,” said Devika. “You will confirm, though, what I am saying. I have been human for a hundred years. In all that time, I’ve remained fifty-nine years old.” She looks in the direction of the front door, saying, “If we had not hurried along for personal space and a much needed meal, you would have noticed that the hallways photographs span nearly eighty years. When I am featured, am I any different than now?”
Brian twirls some of his stubble in thought. “What are you, if not human?”
Devika raises a hand in objection. “I consider myself human, though other things as well. I think and feel as other humans do. That is important, because I am nothing if not human.” She positions the raised hand beside her plate on the table. “I came from outside reality. Outside of time. A place that never changed, because change requires a difference in moments.”
“Like heaven?” Jamie said, attempting to be reasonable.
“I found our first con,” Lily pipes up. She holds her phone above the dinner dishes and pans so we each have a chance to see. Everyone attempts rapid double takes as they compare nine years ago to now. There isn’t much to say, as only her clothing and hairstyle have changed.
“A heaven it wasn’t, not to me. There wasn’t even a ‘me’ to exist. Without time or matter, there no wants nor needs nor goals because nothing moved. Thoughts as we know them can’t exist, as there is nothing to consider. In what we consider to be 1919, I stopped being there and started being in this reality. Call it ejection, leaving, sent, I don’t know. It took me years to grasp the idea of time, of matter, of change, of thought and memory. That’s when I made this body and started feeling.”
Autumn stops chewing a fingernail and asks, “You’re immortal, then? An immortal human?”
Devika shrugs in her chair. “As good a way to put it as any. An immortal human and an otherworldly entity.”
“Why tell us, then?” Autumn shoots out a hand. “I get it if you just need to tell someone. You were there for me before I transitioned. Feeling like you’re gonna burst sucks.”
Esha, Brian and Mike watch the exchange. Whether they are observing, dumbfounded or both, they are quiet.
Distantly, Devika answers in a soft tone. “I’m never done growing as a person. No one is. A hundred years doesn’t change that. I also need to grow as that otherworldly entity.”
Lily shied away somewhat at the answer. “Un-Huh? And what does that involve?”
Devika chuckles, which would be a good sign in the general circumstance. “The same thing as a person. Time. Time and perspective. Reality needs time, I’ve learned the hard way.” She makes sure to meet each of our gazes before continuing. “Time makes things matter, in both senses of the phrase. Change is a function of time, and so is joy. A song without time is no song at all. It’s forty copies of this note, thirty seven of that. Even the notes, the sound, are caused by matter quickly vibrating as a function of time. It becomes instantaneous would-be noise. Your favourite book is a thousand count of ‘the’ or ‘to.’ It’s the sequence that matters, reading the words as you see them. Being the eye of the needle that touches every part of the thread as you pull it through. Everything we love aren’t things, it’s their ripple effect.”
More silence. Jamie shifted in his seat.
“I said I made my own body at the start of all this. I did not even have to try. I have a fundamental ability to see, move, reconfigure matter, time, and reality. I can stop time, for all the good it does me. Without time, I can examine and remodel any atom I want. There are no limits of what I can do, but there are limits of what I can understand of my actions and their consequences. Time gives me the freedom to have good judgment over what I’m doing.”
Mike raised a hand. “I am totally lost, here. What?”
It’s Esha who answers. She looks between Devika, Mike, and her plate. “I think I get it. Y’know the saying ‘Knowledge is Power?’”
“Yeah? I guess?”
Esha raises her two hands in opposite directions. “Devika’s saying it’s both exactly true and false. You can do really detailed work, or a lot of work, you can’t have both. What’s more work, an amazing tattoo or painting a wall white?”
Brian picks up on Esha’s thought process, adding to it. “You can use a paint roller on a wall and cover more area. But if you had a roller of tattoo needles, you’re only going to hurt someone. If you used one tattoo needle to paint a wall, it’d take your whole life.”
“Thanks, Brian,” Jamie snarks, “That image is going to haunt me.”
“Regardless.” Esha reasserts back into her own metaphor, “It’s like driving here tonight. We drove at low speed so we could control our steering.”
“Oooooh,” Mike responds, evidently getting it.
Devika says, “I have a very minor demonstration of the mess it can make, if everyone is up for it.”
Autumn and Jamie immediately shout “YES.” Mike shrugs. Lily and Esha share a look before nodding along. Brian effects a voice, saying, “Do it.”
“When did I serve dessert?”
Brian stops chewing. Jamie, reaching for a cookie, freezes all moment. Lily moves her spoon to see she has almost finished her bowl of Esha’s dessert. Mike grabs either side of his forehead.
Esha spots her amber glass cookpot in the centre of the table, and her own bowl missing a spoonful. She blanches.
“What the actual fuck?” Mike posits with initiative.
“What I’ve done,” Devika responds, still seated, “Is rearrange two moments of time. We are experiencing dessert a few minutes before I clean the table and serve it. The proof, in this case, is in Esha’s rice pudding. Which is very good!” She takes a spoonful of her own bowl.
“I understand how disorienting it must be. That’s why this is my only example of the night.”
Esha, perturbed, stares at her bowl. “I taste it on my tongue, I feel the heat in my stomach, and I don’t remember eating it. The hell?”
“And that’s because you haven’t ate it yet, you’re just experiencing the moment afterward. Out of sequence. Now, I must clean up the table.”
Devika stands, stacking Lily’s empty plate on Brian’s. The rest of us numbly pass ours down to her. The dessert is gone from in front of us.
There’s a muffled clatter of metal as Devika deposits the dishes somewhere. She brings in the plate of cookies we saw before, but fuller.
“Cool,” Brian mutters, flabbergasted. “Cool, cool cool.”
Autumn, staring and grinning like a kid, goes for a cookie.
Esha’s fast breathing turns to giggles, which then turns to breathless laughter when it doesn’t stop. “Screw pharmacology, Lily, you have a dessertation to write.”
Jamie groans, lifting his head from where it had been resting on the table. “No, Esha. Why.”
Lily watches the comings and goings of our host as she serves Esha’s food. “What does this have anything to do with you being some sort of entity? Why is any of this?”
“Yeah” Mike adds, motionless. “You never answered Autumn’s question. Why are you telling us any of this? Is this a hidden camera thing?”
Devika finishes her bustling about, collapsing into her chair. “Alright, my stunt with time is over and everything is as it should be.” She ignores her bowl, seemingly tired and needing her tongue unoccupied. “Why all of this? One: You are all my friends, and you deserve to know regardless of the outcome. Two: as Autumn put it, there is a wonderful joy in letting go of secrets. I am freer for it. Three: as time passes, my self-awareness grows and burying my head in the sand does no one any good. Four: My concept of who and what I am is limited by the scope of my investigation. I can’t use raw power; I need time and perspective. I can use your help to do it properly.”
This is a moment where we should all stop aghast, but continued eating of rice pudding somehow helps mollify our anxieties. More desserts should. Jamie did offer a ‘Hmm?’ through a mouthful.
“I come from outside reality. Whether that means from another reality or from the void between realities, I don’t know.”
Brian understates his question for all of us through a cheek of cookie: “There are other realities? When were you going to mention this?”
“Twenty six seconds ago. I’m certain I did. Pretty sure, anyway.”
Lily gives her a half lidded look with a half smile. “I thought you said you wanted us to take you seriously.”
Devika has a tiny sip of her pudding, letting the question breathe. “I want you to take me sincerely. It makes you happy, just as it does for me. We are friends around a dinner table. We can be more than serious, we can be ourselves. All parts of ourselves. I need your perspective.” She glances at each of us.“Everyone’s perspectives. And perspective isn’t just a point in space and a facing. It’s who views it.”
Jamie fiddles with his empty spoon. “Perspective on what, though?”
Mike, having cleaned his bowl entirely, is ready for discussion once more. He shows genuine interest in playing along. “Even your e-mails mention a proposal. We know something’s coming.” His statements are pointed and prodding Y’best hurry up and propose something before we all pick a couch for a post-supper nap. Quit the cat-and-mouse and just ask us!”
Devika fills with her spoon in her bowl. “Realities – worlds – have a sort of resonance I can distantly ‘hear.’ It is not unlike the concept of universal music. Some of these harmonies sound like ones I would make, if I could. I am non-linear with regards to time. My hypothesis is I will make entire realities later in my non-human-part’s life cycle. I’m seeking volunteers to send there and gather evidence. I want to set up a sort of telemetry to triangulate who and what I am. We all have our biases, but together we can figure it out.” She begins eating her pudding, perhaps for the calm it has given us.
No one fills the gap of quiet for a time. Brian purses his lip, moving the pieces around in his mind. “But if you’re this god-thing, can’t you do your own tour of these planets or whatever? See all this evidence for yourself?”
“No,” Devika says, clearing her throat. “No, because we need a fixed position to orient ourselves. Airplanes need traffic control. Boats near shore need a lighthouse. If I go alone, there is no telling if I can find my way back. I do not know where I come from, and I do not want it to happen again, nor the same for you. If all goes as it should, you will return in the moment you leave from. No one gets lost.”
“And what’s this evidence you mentioned?” Autumn asks. “Are we talking about searching for cosmic hair samples, or just what?”
“Time is my filter,” Devika says. “I love music, I love art, I love the stories we tell together with paper and dice. Each thing that follows another is a response to the first. Music is a wonderful pattern of notes. Notes give each other context. The experience with the dessert was upsetting because the melody was in the wrong order. It would also be upsetting if dessert happened on repeat forever.”
She pauses, allowing us to brain-percolate. “In this life, we often do things in hope of change, of moving toward our best selves or toward a better world. It often fails. It can be coincidence, it can be forces or people working against us, or perhaps our greatest efforts weren’t enough. Events repeat themselves without consequence or with too much consequence. If I were to make a reality, the sun would always rise at the end even the longest night. We would be able to climb a mountain and see wondrous views. When we are ready, we climb down again. There wouldn’t be some Sisyphean guarantee of failure. That is what I am searching for.”
Devika stands, walking around the table. She touches each of us on the shoulder as she passes. “You are my friends. I know how hard you strive for meaningful change in your life. The places I send you should resonate with you too, if I made them. Your choices today would affect tomorrow. All wounds will heal with time and effort. Acting on hope should matter. The cadence of events, when played well, should make music. Music that would outshine the noise. Causality would sing with you.” Completing the circle of the table, she leans on the high back of her chair.
We breathe, and breathe again. Somewhere in the house, a clock ticks. All at once, we begin to make approving noises.
“Said I was in, didn’t I?” Autumn murmurs.
Lily does some jazz hands. “Leave the darkest timeline? I’m in.”
Esha stands and speaks to Devika. “I can’t say I believe you, old friend. But I believe in you. Autumn was right about the mud wrestling.”
Jamie shuffles to his feet. “Yeah! Whether this is yarn spinning, or utter facts, or a LARP pitch, I’m in. We know you’re not going to steal our kidneys, so let’s friggin’ go.”
Brian, fading from a long day and a full stomach, says, “I don’t have work tomorrow and I’m staying the night anyway. Roll me toward whatever if I pass out.”
“Fuck it!” Mike yells from the corner. “Autumn’s hyped you assholes for two years. I’ve gotta see where this is going.”
Wiping a tear, Devika grins. “Good. I love you all. We will need to talk through how this works and ready ourselves. After that, you’ll go, and believe for yourself.”
EXTRA READING: THE MANY WORDS INTERPRETATION
This is an extra reading. In this case, an optional sub-chapter. Extra readings do not contain events essential to the story and can be skipped if you would like to continue at a quick pace. Extra readings are rest benches on the story path and extend scenes in a flow-breaking way. They are moments where characters pause to gather their wits, learn, find their footing, and smell the roses. Click the link for more or continue below.
Suitably lessoned and fashionably adorned with functional jewellery, we patiently await Devika’s cue.
“I will be in the living room down the hall to our right. Come to me one at a time, and I will see you off.”
“That’s it?” asked Mike.
“No.” Devika says. “But it is a start.”