[SESSION id=1.15]: Proportion
Even when you erase when you could create. You are. You always will be. You always have been. Mine. — L.
Dimension
I couldn't bring myself to touch it, not to open it, barely even to look at it. There it was, though. No matter how many times I looked away. The amethyst print burned my eyes the longer I stared at it, so I did the practical thing and stood up, walked away, and didn't look back.
Or that's what I aimed to do. But Jazz was in the way of the bedroom. So I turned toward the front door.
"Lillian." Her voice stopped me. Not anger, but pleading. "What's wrong?"
"Was it you?" I knew the answer. It couldn't have been her. I couldn't turn around and face her to confirm it, but I knew she looked as confused as I had been moments before. "No. That's not fair. You couldn't have done it any more than I could."
"Please look at me and explain." She was straining to speak. Worried about me. "Or if you can't, then at least let me come with you. We can walk together."
"Sure," I conceded, almost a whisper, "anything to get away from it."
"And you'll tell me what's wrong once we're away from this?" Her hand found mine, and I finally met her eyes. "I'm terrified that you might slip out of time again. Or slip into Jazz Thorn's arms. Or any number of worse things."
A lifeless huff escaped me, almost a chuckle if it had been happier. "You said you didn't mind me being in her arms," I replied. "If it bothers you so much —"
"The problem, my doll, is that we don't know what happens if something happens to you over there," her expression shifted to something defiant. "I don't have a problem with you sharing time with her, I have a problem with the idea you might disappear and not come back."
Anything resembling fear or anger or even irritation dissipated with those words. Part of me wanted to be difficult. Part of me wanted to hold her tightly and promise the impossible. "You like me, Jazz Star, don't you. You wanna kiss me, and hold me, and marry me, and die together when we're a hundred." I leaned in and kissed her cheek. She was opening and closing her mouth wordlessly, her eyes wide. After a moment, I pushed her chin up with one finger. "Don't worry, Miss Star. I feel the same way."
"Good. Yes. Very." She blabbered and stammered for several seconds.
"Come along. Let's go see your mother," I said. "That cafe is delightful."
Once we were outside, I let Jazz lead us. No point getting us lost. My directions were serving as a bookmark in On Creation, and I hadn't made the trip enough times to properly find my way. Once by accident, once intentionally. Not really viable.
I let my thoughts stick to the experience of being with Jazz, and I nearly forgot what had prompted this excursion in the first place. The mid-morning sun was cool, the company was cooler, and the streets were quiet. What day even was it?
"First day of the work-week. Folks must already be where they need," Jazz supplied without my asking.
"How in Aria's name did you know I was thinking that?"
"Doll. Sweet beautiful woman. You just spent thirty seconds looking up and down the street, confused curious, almost lost." She squeezed my hand. "Predictable you are."
"Am not!" I shoved her gently, but didn't let her go.
We arrived in short order, the very natural aesthetic of Halo Star's cafe welcoming us all the way until the moment we were greeted. 'Greeted' might be too nice a word.
"Jazz Bellsong Stella Star. Why haven't I seen you in more than two divisions?" Halo stepped out from behind the counter and crossed the space to us. She gave me a tight hug. "Good to see you Lillian," she said with a smile before turning her ire back to Jazz. "Now. You. This young woman lives in walking distance. I know you have been staying with her. So why have we only spoken via vis-call?"
"It's not her fault, Miss Star," I started, but Jazz held up her free hand.
"Please, let me savour this, Lillian," Jazz said with a grin. "Give me a few more seconds."
Halo's jaw dropped. After a moment, she recovered. "There's nothing that would excuse you not coming to see your mother."
"Lillian was in the hospital. I took her to see Omi," Jazz said. Halo's face sifted through a hundred emotions before settling on horror. "You only met her once, but you might've realised what was up if you'd looked her in the eyes." Halo turned to me and stared as Jazz continued. "And you could've complained in the calls. There were plenty of them. One even interrupted —"
"I don't need to hear about that," Halo said and put a finger over Jazz's mouth. "I'm sorry. Go take your seats, and you can tell me about it over a cup of lemon and rose."
"Fine with me," Jazz said with a small but showy bow.
We sat at the table for several minutes before Halo eventually joined us carrying a tray with three cups of hot liquid and three plates of an odd looking pastry. She danced around, spry for a woman of her age, as she tabled all the things before returning the tray to the kitchen.
"Is she always like this?" I giggled while Halo was away. "Or is she just ecstatic about something?"
"Truth?" She grimaced around the word. I nodded. "It's you. I've never intentionally brought a romantic partner to the shop. She thinks you're special."
"And am I?"
"Of course."
I sighed in faux relief. "Had me worried, there, Miss Star." After a brief pause, I observed, "Can't help but notice you said 'romantic partner'. Two questions rear their heads."
"Only women. And yes, that's what we are. Even if I'm a chaotic mess and hadn't started that conversation." She smiled broadly and leaned in to kiss me.
"Started what conversation?" Halo plopped down in the chair across from us. "Also, no kissing in front of me. Gross. You're my daughter."
"Well, we've been seeing each other for two divisions," Jazz said, "but we've never nailed down what our relationship is."
"Old married women who put up with each other because it's too much work to find someone else, but they really do love what they have together," Halo provided. "Unless you mean in a social sense. In that case, I suppose I'd call you girlfriends. Perhaps even 'ready for the next step'."
"There you have it Lillian," Jazz jostled my leg under the table. "We're married. Am I taking your name or you mine? Or are we planning for a whole new family name?" She openly laughed at the expression I must have been making. "See that, Mum, you've made her speechless."
"Lillian Star," Halo teased. "It suits you. Go with that."
"It's not out of the question. One of the other Lillians took her Jazz's name," I said without thinking. My hand found my mouth. Halo raised one brow and stared at me for a moment. "Sorry. It's a long story."
"Head injury, Mum." Jazz tapped my head with a single finger. "Nothing to worry over. You remember how Omi said it's common for coma patients to report wild dreams." She shrugged. "In any case, let's talk about what happened."
"Right!" Halo was back to normal suddenly. "She got hurt. Where? Were you visiting that friend of yours in Lake Town? Or your sister? Or were you meeting the parents?"
"We were down the street, at Lillian's place," Jazz said, and Halo's expression fell. "The paramedics got her stable, and I pulled some strings to get her moved. I trust Omi. They've never steered us wrong."
"Fair enough," Halo conceded. "How?"
"You ever laugh so hard you collapse?" Jazz's smile came back. "She had a particularly rough day, and something set her off. Unfortunately, when she collapsed, she hit the corner of her counter. Blood everywhere. Took me three days to get all of it cleaned up." Halo's expression cycled through humour, concern, horror, and eventually settled on shock.
"How are you laughing about this?" Halo slapped Jazz's wrist across the table. "She could've —"
"Because she didn't, Mum."
I was suddenly the sole focus of Halo's attention. "Lillian, how are you holding up? Are you adapting to the new eyes okay?"
"Can barely tell the difference, ma'am," I offered, "except when it's dark. They glow. Doctor Stella said that should calm down, but they didn't give me a timeline." I shrugged. "Kind of getting used to it."
Somehow all of Halo's drink was already gone, as was her food. I hadn't seen her eat or drink anything. Yet, there was nothing as she picked up her cup and plate. "Girls, enjoy your meals. I've gotta get back to it." She took several steps before turning around. "Lillian, how'd you like the book I recommended?"
"Dizzying, but life changing," I said. "Thank you."
"Excellent!" She spun on the ball of one foot and continued her retreat.
"Welcome to the family," Jazz sighed as Halo left earshot.
Ratio
Talking about what was on my mind was impossible after the interaction with Jazz's mother, so instead the rest of our meal was spent in companionable silence. Halo stopped in several times to make sure we were still well, and at the end she gave us a bag with more food to take with us.
"Can we go to yours instead of mine?" I trembled as I asked. "I'm not ready to deal with —" Finishing the thought felt dangerous. "In any case," I shifted once we were on the sidewalk, "yours is far less cosy, and I think that's what I need right now, you know."
"An odd little woman you are," Jazz said with a chuckle. "Fine by me, but we'll have to go to yours first. Walking to mine isn't exactly easy."
"Sure! That's fine."
"In ten words or fewer, what's this about?" Jazz clearly knew something was wrong. "And if that's not possible, is it something I can fix?"
"Books," I answered, "and probably not. You can't touch The System." I took a deep breath. "I know you're sick."
Jazz stopped, pulling me to a halt with her. "I won't ask how you know. I haven't told anyone. But yes. System Sickness. Earliest stages. If I stop poking the metaphor now, then I will still live a long happy life." She let out an extended sigh. "But, we both know that's not how it works."
"Of course. Counter-proposition," I offered with a smile, "does accessing The System through a proxy advance your symptoms?"
"Probably not, why?"
"We'll talk once I'm calm, but I think I can do it for you without risk. Just point me where you need me, and we'll find the answers to the ultimate questions." I set to walking again, but Jazz pulled me and pointed in the opposite direction. "Right. On we go."
The trip to Jazz's place was as simple as I remembered from our first night together. Thinking of that first night was enough to make me blush, and I was grateful Jazz had to focus on navigation.
Her home was exactly as I remembered it. Austere, but lived in. Lavish, but understated. Well-outfitted for a woman whose bedroom apparently had a revolving door.
"Question," I said as my mind turned that direction.
"Answer," Jazz shot back instantly.
"How many dalliances and romantic or sexual pairings have you had in your home?" There was too much evidence to deny it, so I gave her a moment.
"Something along the lines of fifteen," she said without thought. "You are no doubt referencing the well-outfitted washroom and closet filled with clothes I'd never wear." When I didn't answer, she continued. "I keep extras on hand in case someone needs them. Before you, though, most of it only got one use. And none of it was used for a few divisions before you."
"Huh." Somehow I believed her. "Well. I wasn't expecting that. And. I suppose." I inhaled sharply. "Seems I misjudged you."
"Good. That was the goal," Jazz almost growled, "but now I kind of wish I had been kinder about it." She led me to her couch, where she had me lie with my head in her lap. "Now. Tell me what's up."
"Books. On Erasure was distressing. On Creation was vindicating." I was fighting back sobs as I let it all out. "But when we got home, there was another. On Integration. Did you put it there?"
"No. I didn't even notice." Jazz started petting my hair softly. "I'm sorry you're going through this. I wish I knew what to do about it."
"Want to know what's even more terrifying? It had my art on the cover." The tears were burning my eyes, but I wasn't ready to let them fall. "Not like, 'oh this is in my style'. Art that I drew the first time I saw Jazz Thorn."
She didn't speak. That silence was almost too much, but I kept fighting back against my feelings. After a few seconds of fighting, I coughed a repressed sob, and I couldn't stop the feelings. I was terrified and terrorised by a me from another world, except in this case the 'me' was just actual me. Not Other Lillian. Not Lillian Aster or future Lillian Comet or any of the potentially infinite Lillians. What had driven Lillian Thorn to that point?
"On the one hand, I might be losing my mind," I said around grieved lungs, "but on the other, this all feels too entirely real. What was it Antel said? A year passed in The System over the course of ten days?" I managed to roll over and face Jazz. "What happens normally?"
The answer was plainly obvious. Jazz didn't have to tell me. The clock bounced around. Up, down, up, down. It was like the fox and the hare on the long road from Central City to Lake Town. Going whatever way made things simpler for it. White white white green, white white white yellow. Repeat. The System's clock ran wherever it pleased, but typically one-to-one with real time.
"It doesn't simulate our world, Jazz," I managed to squeak out, "it manages the link between ours and theirs. Other Lillian and Other Jazz."
She didn't look shocked. Clearly, she'd worked that out long before I got there. In my admittedly weak defence, she'd been hacking for ages, and she'd been learning through me what was happening there.
"When did you figure it out?" I knew that too. It was while she was away after discovering that I was a monster, an impossible quirk in The System, and an anomaly in the fabric of existence. "How. How did you figure it out?"
"I had my suspicions before we properly met," she said, voice barely full enough to get the words out. "But then you had On Creation, and you had impossible time, and then all the moments you blanked out on me. I'd started monitoring you and The System side-by-side, and it all clicked into place when I saw your age. Did you know it almost perfectly matches The System's uptime?"
"Plus about three work-weeks, yes?"
"Just long enough for your first visit to Jazz Thorn. Just long enough for Other Lillian to move on to phase two." A single tear dripped from her chin. "And now, I don't know what to do about it. I can try to help, but I'll die faster. But I can't just not help you. I —"
My hand settled on the side of her face. Not quite the cheek. "It's alright. You don't have to say it. I, too."
We stayed like that, my head in her lap, for a long time. We must have fallen asleep at some point, because I woke up. She was still there. I got up and wandered her library until my bones ached too much to hold me. The next thing I knew, I was dreaming. Right and properly dreaming.
Skew
To describe the space would be to do a disservice to anyone intent on learning what I saw. It was a forest and a city and a concert hall and a mountain and a meadow and a living room and everything and nothing. To describe the child would be equally cruel, for the child was simply the child, and describing someone as other than the truth is immensely impractical.
Even so, there was space, and there was the child. I occupied the space with the child, and we were aware of each other.
That is, of course, the way with normal dreams. An awareness of truth that one cannot possibly know. And yet, you know. And yet, you cannot know. The paradox resolves in one certainty: it is a dream.
I, myself, was equally impossible. An elder hag, or a little boy, or a bride on her day, or a soul disembodied but rapturous. And so, it is best to say that I was, and to continue the tale.
"Hello, child," I cooed. The child turned to me, but did not speak. "Would you mind, at all, if I sat with you?"
"It's a free city, after all," the child said, waving a hand at the open space where I would easily fit. "I'm not supposed to chat with strangers. So I should do introductions."
"Must we?" I shook my head at the notion of not and added swiftly, "I suppose it's only right. My name is Sky."
"And I'm Flower," the child held out a hand in greeting. I took it. "Nice to know you, Sky."
"Now we've properly met, are we meant to chat, then?" I asked it with a smile, sitting next to Flower. "If we must, then we shall. Do you know what a computing unit is, Flower?"
"Of course. I have one." Flower said something after that, but the words were a jumbled mess. They could've said they use it cyclically. The could've said it was gathering dust. I couldn't be certain. "Everyone says that's weird. Do you think it's weird, Sky?"
"I don't." The words were simple and subtle. I don't think it's weird. Or I don't think. Or perhaps I don't think it. In any case, they were the words of the moment. "I've recently begun learning how to use them, even though I'm," I gestured to my inconstant form, "this. Everyone tells me it's foolish, given," I gestured to myself again, "this. But I wanted to learn."
"Silly. Never knew there were people who didn't know." Flower smiled. "Well, Sky. It has been a joy. But I must be off. Picking lilies and asters and irises with my dear one."
And they were gone. They didn't stand. They didn't walk. They just weren't there.
I was left to wonder at the majesty of the place. Alone, but not lonesome. Like it was meant for something. I lay across the place we had shared a seat, and I drifted from the dream back into reality, lying on Jazz Star's library floor, with a book resting on my face. A book of fables and old parables.
"The wise woman and the innocent," I read aloud from the page. "That tracks."
"What tracks?" Jazz was in the doorway. "And why are you, yet again, asleep with a book in my library?"
"If you'd found me with this book the first time, what would you have said about me?" I held up the compendium. "You did say you could tell a lot about a woman by her choice of reading."
"You appreciate the classics, but you're a little stuck in the past, given that it's children's stories." She moved across the room like some manner of phantom and plucked the book from my hands. "My favourite stories aren't in this edition. Only in the one written in the old tongue. They were taken out because they scare children. But they were always my favourite. Omi read them in the old tongue until we were old enough to appreciate them, then they read the stories properly. Nona hated it. I adored everything about it."
"What stories are missing?"
"The parable of the lily, for one."
"Plucked before her time," I supplied, "and transplanted poorly, she wilted before her love could rescue her." Jazz shook her head at me. "I'm conversational in the old tongue. Of course I know all the fables and parables."
"Point taken, lilium meum," she said with a grin.
That's when I realised why she called me that. It was what the obsessive fiend said throughout the parable. Lilium meum, te mihi soli servabo. And the lesson of the parable is that selfish obsession often results in loss for everyone.
"You colour yourself a villain," I said when it all clicked into place. "Because you've always been obsessive. Trust, Jazz, you are as much the victim as anyone."
"Except you?" She caught me out so quickly I recoiled from it. "Lillian, if I am a victim, so are you. We didn't create this mess."
"But we would have, given half a chance."
At that, Jazz shrugged. "Perhaps. Now. Come to bed. We can worry over everything in the morning."
Variance
Morning didn't come. Not as such. I awoke around midnight. It was still dark, of course. And I walked to the dining room, where Jazz's home had another entirely too large window, one that looked out over Central City.
Single lights flickered in or out as time dragged on. A beautiful soundless symphony. The waves of the city's ground were on full display from that vantage, and the clever attempt at a clean grid almost managed its illusion. It was peaceful.
As I watched the city's shape change with the lights that shone, my mind wandered to the temporary lodgings Jazz Thorn shared with her wife in [city[0]]. The shapes were the same, despite the vastly different topography and the insidiously perfect grids. By some miracle of improbability, everything was an impeccable match.
How long I'd been sitting there, I couldn't say. But the clock claimed it had been no time at all. Fortunately I found myself tired, and I returned to bed beside Jazz.
Midnight was a good look for Central City. I couldn't have known that from the place I lived, even if I did from where I worked. It was lower to the ground and couldn't possibly provide me with this wonder. Even work was lower than Jazz's home.
Had been. Work had been lower than Jazz's home. I didn't work there any longer.
I fell asleep, and woke up. No time had passed, if the clock could be trusted, but I felt as though I'd slept for days. It was clearly still the middle of the night. Jazz was sleeping soundly as I rolled out of the bed and took my call device with me to the dining room window.
Rain, somehow, picked up on the first tone.
"Up late, princess," she yawned. "Everything okay?"
"It's difficult to explain." I thought for a moment before I realised I hadn't spoken to her in almost a division. Four work-weeks. "I was in the hospital. Mother probably told you about it. And lots of things are not making sense anymore."
"Yes, she told me," Rain didn't sound upset. "I figured you'd call when you were ready. And here you are. Middle of the night. Calling me. It's like magic."
"Aria wills it, and it is so," I teased, almost falling back into our old rhythm. I had to catch myself so as not to make it weird. "Strange hypothetical, if you're up to it."
"When have I ever passed up one of your strange hypotheticals?" Rain laughed. She sounded really happy. "Hit me with it."
"Let's say there's this person. We'll call her Flower." I was trying to keep the thoughts straight. "And she has this friend, who we'll call Sky."
"If this has to do with you and Silver Star," Rain cut in, "then I probably shouldn't be the one you're talking to about it."
"Quit it," the words didn't sound like my own. I had to spit out the words quickly, or I'd never get there. "Let's further say that Sky is sick, and Flower might be able to help, but helping is a huge risk."
"Sick how? Like your mother?" She sounded worried. That was a good sign. "Or like something serious?"
"Mother's sickness is serious, Rain," I mumbled. "But your point stands. It's a combination of both."
"Well, how big is the might in this particular hypothetical? And how likely is the risk?" Practical to a fault, Rain Cloud. "Because if it's a big chance to help with a small chance of the risk, then there's no reason not to."
"There's the problem. How likely is too likely when it comes to risk?" My mind was running in circles. I was grateful she'd answered the call. "Thing is, if Flower doesn't help Sky, then Sky will definitely die. And if the risk happens, both Flower and Sky will."
"Ayuna's teeth, Lillian," Rain almost shouted, "what have you and Silver gotten yourselves into?"
"Ever hear of System Sickness?"
Rain didn't answer. The line was silent for a long time.
"Her case is pretty mild, but I think I've found a solution." I breathed heavily around the implication. "I can't promise it'll work, but I can't see myself not trying."
"I'm glad you've dropped the pretence." Rain grunted. She was moving around. Probably moving from her living room to her patio. She'd be able to see me, even if she couldn't pick me out. "You only just met this woman, Lillian, but if you think she's worth the risk, then it doesn't matter how likely it is. You go down together."
"Thanks," I whispered as Jazz's hands touched my shoulders then slid down the front of my body.
"Is that Miss Cloud?" Jazz whispered into my free ear. When I nodded, she took my call device. "Rain, dear. Please tell me you told her it was a stupid idea." She paused as Rain said something. "Of course not. There's a reason you and Kin are an excellent match. Hopeless romantics, both of you." Jazz let Rain say something again. "Fine. Well, in that case, thank you."
She handed the phone back to me. "Sorry about that, Rain," I moaned. "She's very headstrong."
"No joke. But if you're happy with her, then go for it. Have a good night, Lil." Rain didn't wait for a reply. She disconnected the call and left me in the silence with Jazz.
"You had a time slip, didn't you?" Jazz was too quick. How could she tell?
"A few hours, I think. No more than half a day." Lying to her didn't make sense, so I gave my best guess. "I just stared at the city." I turned to face her. "Is it wrong that I miss Jazz Thorn?"
"No more than missing me when you're on her side." Jazz leaned in and kissed me. A quick thing. Barely a peck. "You mentioned other Lillians. Want to talk about that?"
"Jazz Comet, Jazz Aster, Jazz Moon, Jazz Star," at the last one, I patted her head. "And one Jazz I've not labelled yet."
"Which one's Thorn?" She asked it, then held up a finger. "Wait. She's Moon." When I nodded, she continued. "Your theory about connectedness is spot on. But again. We can worry about this in the morning."
"Sounds perfect."