Both the young girl’s eyebrows go up. “The space station? Really?” She shakes her head, eyes still wide. “How many cowboys have been riding around in your head, Jason? And for how long?” One of her finger guns clicks, and you remember.
… Lhasa, Tibet. Ramoche Temple. Playing tag.
… Kuala Lumpur, arguing favorite books and hearing her demand you read Snow Crash immediately - the same memory you didn’t recognize a few minutes ago.
… La Paz, Bolivia. Exploring the Mercado de Brujas for an afternoon.
… and more.
All before the space station. Long before, some of them. Even before Amir.
No fighting. No arguments about your fathers.
Just you and her, neither knowing what the other was… but knowing everything about who you were.
We work.
When it’s just us, we work. I picked that face because it’s from before everyone else ruined it.
Another flash, only months before your ‘first’ meeting on the station: catching up to your dad at a park in Taiwan. He squints over your shoulder and scowls, but you see nothing when you look back.
“Did you lose all these to the nanobots?” She asks. "Are you losing your earliest memories first, or offloading the ones you don’t like? Or did someone hide them away? She looks up at you, and her eyes are wide and black. “When he said the nanites would keep you out of trouble, what did he really mean, Jason?”
The other finger gun clicks.
… a tattered The Aleph and Other Stories in the mail on your twelfth birthday.
… a signed copy of Barry Ween, Boy Genius on your thirteenth.
“You have so much trouble being the smartest guy in the room, you offload it and pretend all the thinking is being done by someone else.” She stands up, flickers, and it’s Jason - you - at ten.flicker Nine.flicker Eight.
“You talk into a mirror, and managed to convince yourself you’re the slow one in the conversation.”
S([t]he[y]) walk over to you and reach up to tap you on the forehead. “You really need to put yourself back together, someday.”
Click.
She’s back in Halcyon because the experiment in Pennsylvania didn’t work. Not enough power, wrong frequency, or just the not what she needed. Or she saw it was hurting the people in town? That’s optimistic. Not now, Jason. You’re be -
She’s back because she’s out of ideas, or out of resources, or desperate. Eighty percent chance she’ll cut a deal with Rook inside the next week.
She’s back because the only time she’s gotten anything to the other place was with Mercury, and she’ll grab him and strap him to a nuclear-powered aerotrim if it gets her what she needs.
**But Mercury was just providing energy. She was just providing energy. That opening was an accident; a bad/good roll on the dice - just happened to hit the right -
**
Click.
Frequency. Vibrations. Dimensions. Get the unknowable frequency, and you’ve got the unknowable coordinates - find the right slice in a cosmic loaf of bread.
Easy.
The bots were there when it happened. Everything after that is just -
Math. And power.
Get the equation down on paper. No explanation, but she’ll figure it out; she’s clever.
Note on a jar. Some nanites in the jar. Faster. Easier. Anything else she’d have to steal. Keeps her out of trouble. What part of me did those nanites know? Doesn’t matter.
Portal.
Jason reaches out, touches little Jalycia on the forehead, pushes through, and swirls them away into a cloud, an arc-
A gate. Now -
Power.
The Complex has enough. Reroute. Divert.
Not-dad shouting through a hurricane.
Numina closing her eyes and preparing for a hard shutdown.
_Travelycia’s eyes going wide; finally understanding she never really understood.
_
Open.
Local frequency on this side. Something else for the other. Need an address.
Do the math.
Set.
Go.
“Welcome to the Mail Box Sto-OHMYGOD.”
Jason hands them the jar, filled with what looks like black sand, mostly covered in a label that’s entirely covered in a formula.
“Hi. Could you leave this in box 6022, please.”
The kid gapes. Jason frowns and extends the jar further. “Please?”
“Dude…” his coworker gives the stunned young man a glare, then shakes her head and reaches for the jar. “Sorry, Mr. Quill. We’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks.”
Portal.
Bedroom. Power drops. Nanites drop. Something… gone. A tiny something. Nothing important.
Probably.
Worry about it later.
“Complex: Reset-Restore. Confirm.”
“Confirmed, Jason.” Which voice was that, coming from the speaker?
Doesn’t matter. Worry about it later.
“Are you okay?” Numina, then Travelycia, a half-beat behind.
Interesting question.
“I’ve got one less thing to worry about,” he says.
Which is, technically, true.
author: Doyce T.
url: Community Forums: Masks 17.4 - Jason chats with ... himself [Cutscene] | Roll20: Online virtual tabletop
