[“Did shit.” Mmmhm, very specific. Dera saves himself some extra prodding by continuing after that.]
That is pathetic. [Again, no judgment, just like saying smoking is bad. Sky is blue. Aisle is empty. Maybe a smidge flat, if only by the Valerie standard.] There is absolutely nothing in that big wide [real] world of yours that you’d rather be doing?
[Oof. It's true, but it stings all the same. No one actually wants to be told how pathetic they are. If he could smoke ten cigarettes at once, he would.]
There's plenty of shit I'd rather be doing. [He snaps this a bit. It's a mixture of irritation and rapidly building anxiety.]
It's not that simple. I'm not...okay. I don't have the energy, or the money, or the time.
[A voice: almost feminine-sounding, but male nonetheless; young, tinny, taunting, vicious.]
"I like being miserable."
[Dera stumbles back again, but doesn't fall this time; catches himself on one of the empty shelves.]
[Val notices Dera’s steadily-increasing tension, but he’s not trying to hurt himself anymore, so she doesn’t particularly care. She’s about to pry at his answer when a voice… well, it sure is a voice, all right! And Dera apparently recognizes it.]
Huh! [Val looks up and around, as if the voice might have come from somewhere specific. Are there security cameras in here? Hard to tell, as is the job of a security camera. The voice sounded strangely disembodied, though.]
[She cups her hands around her mouth anyway, still scanning the ceiling.] Hello? Who is this? [It’s a blind coinflip of fate that she doesn’t address “Dera’s dead friend” by those exact words. Could be someone else....]
[He cuts himself off, the word choked and desperate. The burnt palm is reaching for her, as if to stay her that way.]
Please. Don't do that. I'll answer anything you want.
[Mercifully - cruelly - the voice does not return. Dera wonders if he hears the echo of a familiar laugh, but...no. That was probably just his imagination.]
[Hm? Val lowers her hands, looking aside at Dera. He really seems to mean that.]
[She pauses a moment, and when the voice indeed does not return, answers:] Oh, I wasn’t going to question them. [Or at least, it wasn’t her first intention.] Just ask them to stop bothering you! It’s terribly rude. [She should know, after all. She’s done similar multiple times!]
I don’t need to read your data to know this person’s quite upsetting to you.
[Huh. Said friend doesn’t look or sound too gone, to Val, but… real people, real standards. Real death, and all the permanence that entails. How depressing.]
[The tears and the helplessness strike her, but in a… detached sort of way, almost more intellectual than anything. Val has some human intuition that oh, this means upset, they need help. But she barely knows the guy, and she’s never been particularly capable of helping much of anything.]
[So, after a pause: an echo.]
That really does suck.
[Maybe it would strike some as odd, but...when it comes to Dera, a simple acknowledgement of grief's inherit suckiness...is actually a good bit more comforting than what most people have to say (which is, usually, either nothing, or...some platitude he's tired of hearing).
[Sniffling a bit, he twists his lips to the side in a half-frown (the other half not being a smile - make no mistake) and gives Val a blue-nailed thumbs up.]
Nope, I'm. Ah.
[He wipes a bit at his eyes again. His cigarette has gone out. Another for the floor. He doesn't light the next one just yet - probably should check and make sure this place has more before he keeps wasting them.]
You said, uh...read my data? Like on my phone or something?
[It is not lost on Val that Dera doesn’t finish that “I’m okay” or “good” or “fine” or what have you. Might as well; they’d both know it a lie. That he’s not flubbing it leaves her less room to poke around.]
[And nothing else to say, for that matter, but thankfully Dera has a question! Honest and doesn’t (seem to) like lingering on sentimental awkwardness. Val can work with this.]
Right, right! Well, back in my… [home? world? game? undefined plane of existence? She waves her hand around vaguely.] …back at the place I’m familiar with, I used to be able to read little files on everyone about their entire lives! Not real, recall.
If you are in fact real [and frankly, Val’s still not sure], then you wouldn’t have data like that. Slip of the tongue! My bad.
[Dera listens, and...honestly, he's a bit too overwhelmed / half-convinced it's still a dream to get too hung up on the details. Still, if they're both here, and they're talking, and Jeremy isn't, and there's no alcohol-- Yeah, he's gonna light another cigarette.]
I mean, I am...real, or...at least where I'm from, I'm real. [Does that...still count here? Wherever "here" is?]
When you said you weren't, I assumed you just meant you were part of my dream.
[Valerie frowns, hand on her chin.] You know, now that you mention it, [which is not actually the first time at all, but the irst that Val’s considered it better,] it is pretty strange that we haven’t just been zapped back to normal!
It's like...you wake up, but you can't move your body - can't even open your eyes at first.
[He looks a bit uncomfortable as he says this.]
It's actually really...fucking freaky just like that, but...When that happens, I always end up getting my eyes to open, and it's like...the dream just happens right there in my room - always a nightmare, yeah.
Goes away after a few minutes, but it feels like forever.
[Val cannot say she’s familiar with that.]
I… can not say I’m familiar with that! [Quick of being real, perhaps?] Then again, we don’t really need to sleep.
[That Val is the only one of four who regularly, in fact, does not sleep might explain a few things about her.]
Now, closest I’ve experienced is getting stuck in the void. You’re conscious and you can move, there’s just nothing to interact with! [See? This is bonding. They are sharing a common ground, of sorts.] A nightmare almost sounds better than that; something to experience, y’know? But the glitch is always greener.
[The mental image makes Dera grimace. It definitely doesn't sound like a pleasant experience; no, in fact, it sounds absolutely terrifying. Dera would rather never have that happen in a million years, actually. He'll take the dead boy floating above his bed instead.]
Yeah, that sounds, uh...absolutely horrifying in every way, thanks...
[Dera's startled by the clap first, and then the-- What...is going on there, exactly? Backing away from the shelves a bit, he points, golden eyes worrying at Val.]
[She waves her hand in the void’s direction—although, far as it matters in not-quite-three-dimensional space, not quote into it.]
We call that a void! Or at least, a shred of it. Jumping in may or may not lead to that waking nightmare!
I have to say, though, [and Val side-eyes it, as if it might expand at any moment (but graciously, it doesn’t),] they usually don’t just spawn like that.
[Well, heck, who would Val be to judge an obvious echo?]
You follow! [Val paces up and down the aisle a bit, for a better view; true to form, the void heeds not the perspective shift.] “Void” is a bit of a catch-all, I suppose, but this is a bona fide piece of it.
[Musing out loud, and frankly increasingly concerned:] Now, why would it be here…?
[With the clipped jankiness of a stuttering video, it expands further down the aisle.]
[Val’s just gonna… walk away from the liquor aisle.... Although the back walls, not unlike the face of Dera’s friend, flicker with an empty promise. What is happening here?]
There’s only one person who can consistently make anything from the void—and he’s a kid. [She can practically hear Rudy’s squeaky-pubescent protest at that, but alas Rudy is not here.] Uses his imagination. [Glancing back to Dera:] That’s what I was gonna have you do, y’know. Picture something better than smoking and shopping channels.
[If Val sounded “a little” judgmental before (which she did), she definitely does now.] Dera, you misunderstand. That is the exact kind of defeatism that, where I’m from, would land you dead in nowhereland.
[The blue ones. It’s always the blue ones!]
[She stops abruptly at a crossroads, facing Dera fully, and decidedly not wanting to look at all that damn flickering out the corner of her eye.] You cannot possibly imagine nothing better at all. Have you ever given it an honest try?
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[“Did shit.” Mmmhm, very specific. Dera saves himself some extra prodding by continuing after that.]
That is pathetic. [Again, no judgment, just like saying smoking is bad. Sky is blue. Aisle is empty. Maybe a smidge flat, if only by the Valerie standard.] There is absolutely nothing in that big wide [real] world of yours that you’d rather be doing?
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There's plenty of shit I'd rather be doing. [He snaps this a bit. It's a mixture of irritation and rapidly building anxiety.]
It's not that simple. I'm not...okay. I don't have the energy, or the money, or the time.
[A voice: almost feminine-sounding, but male nonetheless; young, tinny, taunting, vicious.]
"I like being miserable."
[Dera stumbles back again, but doesn't fall this time; catches himself on one of the empty shelves.]
Jesus Fuck-- no, I can't do this.
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[Val notices Dera’s steadily-increasing tension, but he’s not trying to hurt himself anymore, so she doesn’t particularly care. She’s about to pry at his answer when a voice… well, it sure is a voice, all right! And Dera apparently recognizes it.]
Huh! [Val looks up and around, as if the voice might have come from somewhere specific. Are there security cameras in here? Hard to tell, as is the job of a security camera. The voice sounded strangely disembodied, though.]
[She cups her hands around her mouth anyway, still scanning the ceiling.] Hello? Who is this? [It’s a blind coinflip of fate that she doesn’t address “Dera’s dead friend” by those exact words. Could be someone else....]
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[He cuts himself off, the word choked and desperate. The burnt palm is reaching for her, as if to stay her that way.]
Please. Don't do that. I'll answer anything you want.
[Mercifully - cruelly - the voice does not return. Dera wonders if he hears the echo of a familiar laugh, but...no. That was probably just his imagination.]
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[Hm? Val lowers her hands, looking aside at Dera. He really seems to mean that.]
[She pauses a moment, and when the voice indeed does not return, answers:] Oh, I wasn’t going to question them. [Or at least, it wasn’t her first intention.] Just ask them to stop bothering you! It’s terribly rude. [She should know, after all. She’s done similar multiple times!]
I don’t need to read your data to know this person’s quite upsetting to you.
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Well. Yeah. He was my best friend.
[More than that. A million times more.]
He’s gone forever and it sucks. It sucks.
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[Huh. Said friend doesn’t look or sound too gone, to Val, but… real people, real standards. Real death, and all the permanence that entails. How depressing.]
[The tears and the helplessness strike her, but in a… detached sort of way, almost more intellectual than anything. Val has some human intuition that oh, this means upset, they need help. But she barely knows the guy, and she’s never been particularly capable of helping much of anything.]
[So, after a pause: an echo.]
That really does suck.
Want a tissue?
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[Sniffling a bit, he twists his lips to the side in a half-frown (the other half not being a smile - make no mistake) and gives Val a blue-nailed thumbs up.]
Nope, I'm. Ah.
[He wipes a bit at his eyes again. His cigarette has gone out. Another for the floor. He doesn't light the next one just yet - probably should check and make sure this place has more before he keeps wasting them.]
You said, uh...read my data? Like on my phone or something?
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[It is not lost on Val that Dera doesn’t finish that “I’m okay” or “good” or “fine” or what have you. Might as well; they’d both know it a lie. That he’s not flubbing it leaves her less room to poke around.]
[And nothing else to say, for that matter, but thankfully Dera has a question! Honest and doesn’t (seem to) like lingering on sentimental awkwardness. Val can work with this.]
Right, right! Well, back in my… [home? world? game? undefined plane of existence? She waves her hand around vaguely.] …back at the place I’m familiar with, I used to be able to read little files on everyone about their entire lives! Not real, recall.
If you are in fact real [and frankly, Val’s still not sure], then you wouldn’t have data like that. Slip of the tongue! My bad.
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I mean, I am...real, or...at least where I'm from, I'm real. [Does that...still count here? Wherever "here" is?]
When you said you weren't, I assumed you just meant you were part of my dream.
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[Valerie frowns, hand on her chin.] You know, now that you mention it, [which is not actually the first time at all, but the irst that Val’s considered it better,] it is pretty strange that we haven’t just been zapped back to normal!
[She pokes Dera in the arm. Twice.]
Your dreams aren’t usually like this, huh?
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No, not at all, like...
I don't usually really dream, like, I just sort of-- Do you know what sleep paralysis is?
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[Hmm, is that one of the countless ‘baseline real-world knowledge’ factoids Val spawned with?]
Waking nightmares? [Maybe.]
[There’s not a voided wall in sight....]
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It's like...you wake up, but you can't move your body - can't even open your eyes at first.
[He looks a bit uncomfortable as he says this.]
It's actually really...fucking freaky just like that, but...When that happens, I always end up getting my eyes to open, and it's like...the dream just happens right there in my room - always a nightmare, yeah.
Goes away after a few minutes, but it feels like forever.
[Is it any wonder that he doesn't sleep?]
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[ . . . Huh!]
[Val cannot say she’s familiar with that.]
I… can not say I’m familiar with that! [Quick of being real, perhaps?] Then again, we don’t really need to sleep.
[That Val is the only one of four who regularly, in fact, does not sleep might explain a few things about her.]
Now, closest I’ve experienced is getting stuck in the void. You’re conscious and you can move, there’s just nothing to interact with! [See? This is bonding. They are sharing a common ground, of sorts.] A nightmare almost sounds better than that; something to experience, y’know? But the glitch is always greener.
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Yeah, that sounds, uh...absolutely horrifying in every way, thanks...
How...do you get out of something like that...?
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[Oh, so the void doesn’t sound better than sleep paralysis? Dang. For Dera’s sake, then, this better not be Val’s part intruding on his dreams.]
You don’t!
At least not voluntarily, usually. Sometimes it feels like falling forever, and sometimes— [Clap!] —you’re back just like that.
[With the clap, the gaps in the empty shelves do indeed become void, as if gnawed into by dead pixels.]
Hm. That’s unfortunate.
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Is that normal? What is that?
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What, this?
[She waves her hand in the void’s direction—although, far as it matters in not-quite-three-dimensional space, not quote into it.]
We call that a void! Or at least, a shred of it. Jumping in may or may not lead to that waking nightmare!
I have to say, though, [and Val side-eyes it, as if it might expand at any moment (but graciously, it doesn’t),] they usually don’t just spawn like that.
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[Dera says it both like it's obvious, and like he's explaining it to someone who doesn't understand that it's obvious.]
Like. What you described a few minutes ago is terrifying. And there is a void - similar, I'm guessing - right here.
Am I following?
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[Well, heck, who would Val be to judge an obvious echo?]
You follow! [Val paces up and down the aisle a bit, for a better view; true to form, the void heeds not the perspective shift.] “Void” is a bit of a catch-all, I suppose, but this is a bona fide piece of it.
[Musing out loud, and frankly increasingly concerned:] Now, why would it be here…?
[With the clipped jankiness of a stuttering video, it expands further down the aisle.]
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Is this one of the swallow-you-up-falling-forever type of voids, or...?
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Could be! They all do, if you’re not careful.
[Val’s just gonna… walk away from the liquor aisle.... Although the back walls, not unlike the face of Dera’s friend, flicker with an empty promise. What is happening here?]
There’s only one person who can consistently make anything from the void—and he’s a kid. [She can practically hear Rudy’s squeaky-pubescent protest at that, but alas Rudy is not here.] Uses his imagination. [Glancing back to Dera:] That’s what I was gonna have you do, y’know. Picture something better than smoking and shopping channels.
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It wouldn't work if I did it. I mean, I can't do that kind of thing.
[It could still be a dream, maybe, but...he's starting to feel like that's just wishful thinking.
[He does follow her out of the (empty) liquor aisle, by the way - sticking close.]
You're sounding a little judgmental, you know.
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[If Val sounded “a little” judgmental before (which she did), she definitely does now.] Dera, you misunderstand. That is the exact kind of defeatism that, where I’m from, would land you dead in nowhereland.
[The blue ones. It’s always the blue ones!]
[She stops abruptly at a crossroads, facing Dera fully, and decidedly not wanting to look at all that damn flickering out the corner of her eye.] You cannot possibly imagine nothing better at all. Have you ever given it an honest try?
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