[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?
[He's a little stunned by her lecture, although...it really doesn't feel much like a lecture at all. Almost more like she's trying to motivate him or something...?
[In some ways, Dera is a cynical person; he's become that way, anyway. Playing pretend can't change anything, or else it would have by now. But has he ever given it an honest try? Of course not. It wouldn't make sense. There's no way something like that could work.
[Not...in the real world anyway.]
Not really, no.
I mean...no. Just no. [He frowns, he shrugs. He looks self-conscious.]
Things don't really work that way where I'm from, so...?
[Don't they though? Imagining a better life for yourself and making it happen? Chuck's really into ~ manifestation ~ lately. He takes a deep breath.]
I don't really...want anything other than...what I know I can't have.
[Lecture? Motivation? Another line Val does not care for. She can sympathize, to that detached extent, with Dera’s hesitance; of course the idea that one suddenly can just imagine anything into existence is a jarring one. There’s a reason she’s made no move to attempt the same herself.
[However, if the void of her existence has followed her here, then surely its rules do, too. (And if they don’t—well, something else for her and Dera to figure out! …Not an exciting prospect, that.) Val simply hears out his doubts; and then, oblivious to what he’s thinking of, says:]
You could have it here. [More than a little insistent.] Picture that.
[The void swallows the nearest wall entirely. If they can see far enough, it’s consuming every reflective door of the knockoff-Slurpee freezer section.]
[Val is not looking away from Dera, however.]
Now’s probably a terrible time to mention death doesn’t last where I’m from, huh? [Flat by regular expressiveness standards, that.] Still— all you want is a person? I can empathize, do not get me wrong—
[Val can barely sputter a warning before Dera takes her hand—
[Flesh. Warm. A pulse.]
[The glitching in the walls stills. It’s Val’s eyes, instead, that flicker, like a faulty bulb about to blow. She blinks, a couple times, and it stops, and she registers, belatedly, what Dera said.]
There’s probably more void outside, y’know…? [Quiet. Her hand’s gone limp, and it’s not involuntary—
[—but Dera’s right. They can at least leave this specific place. Val shakes her head quickly, hand flinching in a way that doesn’t quite take Dera’s back; it might break his grip, it might not.] Still. Can’t get any worse than in here!
[Abruptly she turns and attempts to drag him, by the wrist, to the nearest exit.]
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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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[In some ways, Dera is a cynical person; he's become that way, anyway. Playing pretend can't change anything, or else it would have by now. But has he ever given it an honest try? Of course not. It wouldn't make sense. There's no way something like that could work.
[Not...in the real world anyway.]
Not really, no.
I mean...no. Just no. [He frowns, he shrugs. He looks self-conscious.]
Things don't really work that way where I'm from, so...?
[Don't they though? Imagining a better life for yourself and making it happen? Chuck's really into ~ manifestation ~ lately. He takes a deep breath.]
I don't really...want anything other than...what I know I can't have.
[Him. Always him.]
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[Lecture? Motivation? Another line Val does not care for. She can sympathize, to that detached extent, with Dera’s hesitance; of course the idea that one suddenly can just imagine anything into existence is a jarring one. There’s a reason she’s made no move to attempt the same herself.
[However, if the void of her existence has followed her here, then surely its rules do, too. (And if they don’t—well, something else for her and Dera to figure out! …Not an exciting prospect, that.) Val simply hears out his doubts; and then, oblivious to what he’s thinking of, says:]
You could have it here. [More than a little insistent.] Picture that.
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No, I...
That's...not a good idea.
[He's read [insert required US high school short story about how bringing people back from the dead can only end in heartbreak and terror].]
It's...him, you know. My friend. I mentioned.
He can't come back.
[Dera doesn't mention that, for as much as he wants to see him - desperately wants to see him - he also...really...doesn't want to see him at all...
[He's still so angry.]
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[Ahh, that kind of “can’t have.”]
[The void swallows the nearest wall entirely. If they can see far enough, it’s consuming every reflective door of the knockoff-Slurpee freezer section.]
[Val is not looking away from Dera, however.]
Now’s probably a terrible time to mention death doesn’t last where I’m from, huh? [Flat by regular expressiveness standards, that.] Still— all you want is a person? I can empathize, do not get me wrong—
But there’s more to a real life than that.
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Not that I don't get what you're trying to say, but I really think we should go now.
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[Val can barely sputter a warning before Dera takes her hand—
[Flesh. Warm. A pulse.]
[The glitching in the walls stills. It’s Val’s eyes, instead, that flicker, like a faulty bulb about to blow. She blinks, a couple times, and it stops, and she registers, belatedly, what Dera said.]
There’s probably more void outside, y’know…? [Quiet. Her hand’s gone limp, and it’s not involuntary—
[—but Dera’s right. They can at least leave this specific place. Val shakes her head quickly, hand flinching in a way that doesn’t quite take Dera’s back; it might break his grip, it might not.] Still. Can’t get any worse than in here!
[Abruptly she turns and attempts to drag him, by the wrist, to the nearest exit.]
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