[SESSION id=0.17]: Nonlinear Interference
"Wake up, ꙄꙀꙂꙈꙊꙌꙎꙔ," whose voice was that?
"Get out of bed. You will be late." Familiar, but distant.
"If you don't get out of bed, now, I will call ahead and tell them you're not coming." Who? Where was I meant to be going? Why did it matter if I was late?
"Lillian, my love, wake up." Jazz's arm was wrapped around my shoulder. She was pulling me close, holding too tightly. "You're having a bad dream, love."
As I realised where I was, the dream began to fade. We were almost to [city[3]]. I was Lillian Thorn. She was Jazz soon-to-be-Thorn. We loved each other. She was J.N. Flowers. I was L.A. Thorn. We were together, just like we wanted. It was still dark in the room.
"Do you need to talk about it?" She tugged, trying to get me to roll over. "I can't make you, but you've been whimpering and sobbing." When I didn't answer, she got out of the bed and moved around so she could look me in the eye. "Are you alright?"
"Is it okay if the answer is no?"
"Well, obviously. It's okay to be not okay, Lillian." She pulled my forehead to hers. "You don't seem feverish, so that's something." Jazz stood and started walking toward the kitchenette in our room. "I'm getting you some water and a salty snack. I'm going to encourage you to drink and eat, respectively."
She returned with a glass half-filled and a small plate of crackers with bits of cheese.
"There was a voice. Soft, gentle, distant," I began, trying desperately to remember any of it. "I knew the voice. They were someone I trusted. But that's it." I couldn't even place the voice anymore.
"You did good. Now nourish my sweet flower, and then we can either start our cycle or we try to sleep some." She sat next to me. "And if you can't, that's okay too."
I placed one of the crackers in my mouth, letting the salt sap some of the moisture from my tongue as the sharpness of the cheese bit at me. A single sip of water turned into drinking the whole glass. Jazz refilled it and brought it back.
"Let's head out once we get dressed." Not definitive, but it made me feel in control for a few cycle ticks. "We can get to the second corridor, get settled, and try to sort ourselves from there."
"Hey," that voice again, "are you coming? We have places to be, people to woo."
"It's fine, ˌoʊliˈeɪsi.iː," they sounded disappointed. In me? In someone else? This voice was different. Was it mine?
"We'll be okay. You'll be okay. Just hold on a bit longer." That one was my voice.
Jazz's voice was soft as I woke up next to her. She was humming or singing. I couldn't say for sure. Her hand was on my arm, gently squeezing. The dream was already fading. I was already melting back into the moment with her.
We were in her conveyance. The skyline of [city[3]] hadn't changed in fifteen supercycles. Cold. Sterile. Silver. It was rapidly rising higher and higher in front of us.
It was true that [city[0]] was the proper central city among the hundreds of cities in [world]. But [city[3]] was a polylith of progress. New engineering. New cleverness. Existentially different approaches to everything. Rather than being laid out in grid-squares, it was a labyrinth of carefully curated efficiency.
Cold. Brutal. And with the exception of the first five corridors, it was the primary reason I never truly learned how to navigate. After the fifth corridor was built with its perfect grid-squares, the city began to melt and mould itself into something entirely new.
Jazz didn't bother with a map. She navigated the streets like it was her home and not mine.
"We're stopping by TERRA Three for a moment, love," she sighed. "Did you have another dream?"
"I think so."
"Don't worry. We'll be done soon, and we'll take care of you."
"Thanks."
"What does that mean? Those words. They don't make sense." My voice again. "All of this. All of my life. Because of something absurd."
"It's true. Absurd doesn't inherently mean false."
"I can't stay here. I have to leave." Was I crying?
"Lillian, love. We're there." She was right. The second corridor residence domiciles were right outside the conveyance. They looked just as dusty as always.
I desperately avoided looking anywhere else.
"Good. Can we —"
"Yes. I've already checked us in and had our things taken up to the domicile." When had she managed that? How was she standing next to my open door? When was it opened?
"Right. Thank you." I climbed out, nearly falling into Jazz's arms. "I can't explain it. But I'm not feeling well, Jazz."
"I know. But we'll get you to the other side of this."
She put an arm around my waist and threw my arm over her shoulder to help me walk. The conveyance door closed almost soundlessly, and Jazz pulled me toward the residential domiciles.
"Just a few steps, Lillian. Can you —"
My feet had stopped responding to my will. They pulled me out of Jazz's embrace. I couldn't stop myself.
Was it still there?
Of course.
It still looked just the same. I was sure. I didn't need to see it. Why would I?
And yet.
My steps pulled me toward it as my eyes avoided the sight.
But it was there.
It was the same.
It hadn't changed.
Had I?
"Jazz, I think I need —"