The Flower That Bloomed Nowhere

Inner Sanctum Underground | 9:33 AM | ∞ Day

So, once again, I told her everything. About the hourglass and her moment of memory loss after I'd tried to prove its existence, about my plan to speak to one of the Advisors that Nora had spoken about and my subsequent invitation to the Loge, and finally about my meeting with The Lady, along with all the wild shit she'd told me. She listened patiently, though this time her expression was a fair bit more flabbergasted throughout.

"Wow," she said, a few moments after I concluded. "That's, uh... that's quite a story."

"You don't believe me," I surmised instantly.

"N-No, I believe you!" she said, holding up a hand soothingly, though she wasn't able to hide the skepticism in her tone completely. "I just, um. It's a lot to take in, I guess...?"

"I don't blame you," I said, shaking my hand and looking down at my now mostly-empty plate, save for some rice that had gone cold and I'd given up on."In the loop you remember, the stuff about the entropy child probably didn't even come up. So this must all sound even more ridiculous."

"I mean. Only kinda?" She rubbed her cheek thoughtfully. "Like, don't get me wrong, the whole idea of this place being put together by some actual for-real goddess is pretty bonkers. But hearing it all laid out like that, it does kinda check out?" She took another spoonful of rice from the bowl. Her inexhaustible appetite seemed to be another thing about her that hadn't changed over the years. "Like, I told you about how I remember hearin' that voice after everything was over, saying it was gonna fulfill the Order's desire. So obviously there was some kinda, I dunno... thinking being, behind all of it."

I blinked, feeling stupid for not having drawn that connection sooner. "You think this was who it was?"

"Well, it's gotta be, right?" She half-shrugged. "I don't remember them sounding like a woman, but if they were the one who made this place, then it's kinda A=B." She shoveled a forkful into her mouth, continuing to speak as she chewed. "Either way, I've always sorta figured that they were probably still kicking around here somewhere. Like, if I made a whole universe, I wouldn't just dip out, you know? I'd wanna see how things turned out."

"I mean, that's basically what the Ironworkers did..." I pointed out, consumed by my usual urge to play devil's advocate.

"Don't people say they slipped in with the settlers and lived out human lives? Some of them, at least."

"That's just speculation," I stated. "If it'd really happened, you'd think one of them would have made some kind of account about the whole thing. On their deathbed, if nothing else."

"Eh, either way, that's how I've been assuming things," Ptolema continued. "Plus, there's a lot of stuff people believe here that this actually lines up with this really nicely. Like, there's whole religions here that worship something they call 'The Lady'."

"That's right," I said, nodding. "I was going to ask about that. I remember Nora mentioning it."

"It's kind of a big deal, actually," Ptolema said. "Culturally, I mean. Or at least a medium deal? A big-ish­ deal." She slurped some tea to wash the rice down as she settled on this, nodding to herself. "There are these super ancient scripts - the oldest copy is like 40 million years old, but believers claim even that's not one of the originals - that supposedly compile a buncha accounts from people who met or got invited to talk to her. Most people nowadays basically treat them like fiction, but other old records take it all more seriously, and there's still a bunch of traditions tied up in it. Like, did you see the statue, back when you were in Raurica?"

It took me a second to process the question, my mind caught up in how casually she'd referenced written history being passed down on a literally geological timescale. Though, I suppose the unspoken concept of people having to consult records that they themselves might have written and simply forgotten with the passage of countless millennia was even stranger.

"Uh, no, I don't think I saw any statues," I eventually managed to tell her. "It was the middle of the night when I first came in, and I only had a minute to look around when the bag guy brought me out here in the morning."

"It's a local landmark. Like 12 feet tall, and right by the clock tower in the center of town - you can't miss it if you spend any time there," she informed me. "It's supposed to depict her. Apparently the founders weren't even religious, but there's a whole bunch of symbolic meaning tied up in her image for complicated reasons that they thought meshed with their values - simple living, abstinence from surveying, that sorta thing."

"What's 'surveying'?" I asked.

"Oh, sorry. It's another term for using the observation power," she clarified. "That's how people say it in the Keep, so sometimes I slip back into that lingo."

"R-Right," I said, nodding hesitantly.

Why would the Lady be a symbol for not using that ability, if she's the one who made a point of granting it in the first place?

No, it was stupid to ask questions like that. The sheer timescale here meant that questions of anthropology could probably have answers so complicated you'd need months even for something straightforward.

"So, does this statue look anything like what I described...?"

She hesitated. "Uh, not so much. It's just kinda some, well, lady. Wearing robes and a crown." She hummed. "The stuff in the scriptures don't really match what you're saying, either... I haven't read them myself, but I don't think they ever talk about her actually creating this world. She's more presented as a sorta guide for humanity. Appearing outta nowhere and tellin' people the right way to do things, counseling them, challenging them to games and trials... you get what I mean." She glanced to the side. "Not really the type who'd mess around and flirt with somebody in the way you're saying she did with you."

I jolted slightly in my seat, my eyes widening a bit. "Flirt? You think she was... flirting?"

"Uh... well, yeah," Ptolema responded awkwardly. "I mean, she was teasin' you about random stuff. And talking about how much she'd missed you. That sounds like flirting."

My face flushed considerably, and I shook my head sharply. "I must just not be getting her attitude across right. She was trying to intimidate me. The whole thing was frightening, creepy, not... like that."

"If you say so."

"Anyway, that could just be the information getting distorted," I speculated, eager to change the subject away from that disturbing concept. "Once something takes on a religious connotation, it's inevitable people will start changing the story to suit their own agenda."

"Yeah," she assented. "That's what I was thinkin' when I brought it up. Even just the name lining up on its own feels like a pretty big hint." She chewed her lip. "Although, if it is the same Lady, I can't think why she'd have dropped off the map for such a long time. The only thing weirder to me than not caring about your creation would be caring and then stopping."

"It is strange," I said, with a small frown. "I tried to ask her about her relationship with Dilmun, but she dodged the question."

Ptolema looked puzzled. "Dilmun?"

"Uh, this world, I meant," I clarified. "The non-Reflection. The Remaining Remaining World."

"You gave it your own name?"

"I-It's just part of how I'm processing the situation," I said. "Naming something on your own terms makes you feel like you have a bit more agency. That's always been how humans have coped with the unknown."

"T-Totally," she said, giving me a funny look.

"So, do you actually believe me? Like, really?" I asked her. "Be honest."

She squinted to herself, briefly looking up at the ceiling and taking another sip. "Hmm. I think I about 70% believe you...? Or I guess I should say 70% believe it happened."

I snorted. "70%, huh?"

"Hey, 70% is good!" She protested. "That's factoring in that maybe somebody tricked you, or you had a really weird nightmare, or even that you might even have been pullin' some weird prank on me since you turned up yesterday." She stuck her fork at me. "I mean, you basically turned up claiming to be in a one-in-a-million situation yesterday, y'know? And now you're claiming to be in a one-in-a-billion situation today."

"N-No, that's true," I said defensively. "I'm not saying it's unreasonable to be a little skeptical."

"There's not a lot of people I'd give 70% to! It's only 'cause we go way back. Some days I don't even give 70% to myself! You should be flattered!"

I wasn't sure if this was just her authentically speaking her mind or an attempt to cheer me up, but either way, I found myself laughing a little, which seemed to please her, her accusatory look giving way to an incredulous smile.

"Honestly," she said as her eyes turned contemplative. "I think I mostly just don't wanna believe it? Not the stuff about us being trapped in a torture dimension for 10,000 years or whatever because the Order couldn't keep themselves from doing creepy experiments on stuff they didn't understand, I mean-- I figured it was something like that already, and it's so far in the past now that I'm kinda glad I don't remember it." She frowned, serving herself the last helping in the bowl. "But, like, my actual present-day memory being messed with, somehow without my say so? Or the whole universe having a stroke and retconning a minute of my life? That's freaky."

"I can imagine, yeah," I said. "Do you recall anything strange, about that moment?"

"I mean, I recall you acting weird," she explained. "You were asking me about the Tertiaries, and then I said, 'what's up, Su? You're acting strange all of a sudden,' and then you just ended up spacing out all wide-eyed. I figured you might just be thinkin' really about something, so I didn't say anything, and then a few seconds later you started walking towards the door, so I figured that was that. But then you suddenly bent down at the stairs, and... well, you know the rest."

"What do you mean, you 'figured that was that'?"

"I dunno. I thought you just didn't wanna talk about whatever it was. That you were gonna wait until we got inside, or I'd put you on the spot and wanted me to drop it." She hesitated. "You can be kinda awkward and indirect like that, you know? Or, uh, at least you could back in the day."

"No, it's true," I said. "I do get lost in my own thoughts a lot." I paused for a moment, considering what she'd just told me. "So to be clear, we're on the same page until after I'd brought up the hourglass? Like, when I asked whether the time Tertiaries have left is represented that way or not?"

"Yeah," she replied, nodding. "I remember that part."

"Then why did you act confused when I brought it up again when I was knelt down on the stairs?"

"Uh, well, you were talking about putting grass on it and stuff, when a second ago it had only been a hypothetical, so I was kinda thrown off."

I lowered my brow slightly.

No, I'm reading too much into this.

I rubbed my eyes, exasperated. "Ugh, this doesn't make sense. I thought that maybe what triggered it was bringing up the hourglass at all, but if you remember that part... actually, even the fact we're having this conversation disproves that idea. It must have just been an arbitrary stretch of time leading up to me doing the experiment, or maybe physically showing you."

She polished off the last of her rice, setting her fork down, and looked up at me discontentedly. "Uh, if this is leading to you wanting to do it again or something to test how it works, I kinda wanna pass? Again, the whole idea of having my perception of reality scrambled is sort of freaking me out."

"No, it's okay," I said. "I wasn't going to suggest it."

I had sort of hoped she'd volunteer, actually, but her reaction seemed a lot more negative than I'd expected.

"I just-- I really can't believe it's even possible. You said she told you we really are, like, independent beings, right? No longer under her power?"

I nodded. "That's what she claimed."

"How can that be true, if she can just fudge reality itself whenever she feels like it? I mean, if I lost that minute-or-so, does that mean everybody did? Or was it local?" She shook her head. "Nah, it's gotta be some kind of-- I dunno, perceptive trick. Like, what one of us saw wasn't real. Maybe she was just tryin' to freak you out."

I felt like Ptolema was making a lot of assumptions here - like it being the intentional work of The Lady to begin with, as opposed to some sort of breakdown in the logic of Dilmun itself, or something - as well as failing to ask some bigger questions, like why it had provoked something spectacular to begin with. Even if she had been behind it, as ways to 'freak me out' went, it seemed somewhat over-the-top.

Plus, that sensation I'd felt... when two things seemed to be true at the same time... I still didn't even know how to describe it.

But ultimately, it was kind of a pointless thing to linger on, since - thanks to the entity's spontaneous decision to have me tossed out like a drunk past closing time before explaining anything - the only conversation to be had was purely speculative. And Ptolema, kind as she was being, probably wasn't the right person for such a thing. I was just grateful she (70%) believed me at all.

"Sorry, I guess it's kinda self-obsessed to fixate on that part of it, and not, well, what you heard it means is gonna happen to you," Ptolema continued apologetically. "Though I dunno if I can believe that part either, to be honest."

"Me dying, you mean?"

"Yeah." She frowned to herself, rubbing her nose. "It doesn't really make sense, right?"

"You mean, because I read as a normal Primary, like you said yesterday?"

"I mean, there's that part," she said, "but also, like, if you really did have some kinda time limit that nobody else in the whole world has, wouldn't it have killed you off while you were dreaming ages ago? Or even before that, when presumably everybody was still settling in a bazillion years ago or whatever?" She squinted skeptically. "I guess it could be the case where it's technically finite but actually lasts for a trillion years or whatever, but that'd mean the information was basically meaningless. Well, unless it was only just on the brink of running out now, but that seems, uh..."

"A little too much of a coincidence?" I suggested.

"Uh-huh," she affirmed.

"That's the opposite of how the hourglass looks physically, anyway. It seems like the sand has only just started flowing down." I tapped my fingers against the table idly, resting my face against my palm. "I thought about it too, and the only conclusion I could come to is that time spent purely observing must just not count somehow. Since time here passes differently from place-to-place, that means the only way a time limit like this could function in the first place would be on a personal, subjective level. And maybe that subjectivity goes even further, so it's not the time that passes for my body, but for my self. My mind, pneuma, whatever."

Ptolema nodded, though she looked skeptical. "Did you test it?"

"I... tried a little, overnight, but I couldn't get myself in the, uh, observation space in the way Nora showed me," I told her. "I can get back to the Stage, and I feel like I wouldn't have any problems piggybacking off someone else like we did before, but on my own... well, nothing happened even when I willed it really hard."

She nodded a few more times. "It's probably kinda tricky to get a handle on from scratch. You can't just imagine a place and time and be able to see it-- There's just too much stuff in the Reflection for it to be that simple. You have to either navigate to roughly where you wanna go manually, then spend enough time looking at it that you can kinda... make an anchor, so to speak." She stood up, taking her plate with her. "Mind if I start washing up?"

"Go ahead," I said.

She reached out and took mine too, before going back to awkwardly hook her mug on her ring and pinky fingers. "Doing it for the very first time, you'd probably need someone to help you out for a while until you have your own window, then go deeper by yourself. People do that all the time to share 'anchors', so for you it's just a more extreme case."

"I see," I said, and bit my lip pensively. "Would you help me out with that?"

She smiled cheerfully "Well, I'm pretty rusty when it comes to observation myself, but I'm happy to give it a shot!" She turned her back to me, as we walked across the room, then a few moments later I heard a thunk as she dropped it all into the sink. "It seems really strange to me that it'd work that way, though. I mean, even when you're observing really hard, it's not like you stop existing. There's still a little flicker of somethin' there, otherwise you wouldn't have been able to come back at all."

I fell silent for a moment, not knowing how to respond. She was kinda right. It didn't really make sense.

But I couldn't think of any other explanation, and somehow, it just being a lie - however much I wanted to believe that - felt too good to be true.

"If it is really like that, though," she said, her tone stiff, "then I'm really sorry. I dunno what to even say. I guess that's why I keep talkin' around it."

"That's okay," I told her. "I'm not sure what you could."

"I wanna say that, y'know, that I'll do everything I can to make sure you can enjoy the time you get to have here... but you're kinda right. If I was in your shoes, having to live in a place like this at all would probably screw me the heck up." She reached for a sponge, scrubbing down one of the plates. "To say everybody takes what we have here for granted feels like an understatement. People treat the idea of people dying in the same way that people treated, I dunno, the bubonic plague back in Reflection. It's like half curiosity and half punchline. I think if you tried to tell anybody who wasn't at the conclave about this, they wouldn't even be able to take it seriously."

"What about Tertiaries?" I asked. "Don't people have to think about death, when it comes to them?"

"I mean, in theory, yeah. But outside of fringe Domains where they're so shut off from society they don't even know how to visit the Stage - or I guess screwed-up gimmicks where people only loan them prop for five minutes or something - it's actually super easy for even Tertiaries to live as long as they want." She set the plate down and grabbed the pan she'd used to cook the eggs. "It doesn't take much prop to make just a human body at all, so if you're actually for-real runnin' out of time, there's a lot of people who'll volunteer to loan you that much pretty much no questions asked. When people are crappy to them, it's usually more about them being 'greedy' and begging for more past that."

Once again, this topic felt like a hornet's nest I didn't want to touch yet, so I ignored the greater part of the implications to focus on the point. "But they can still die if they choose to, right? So even if it's rare, losing people does still happen." I folded my arms, sliding the chair around a little so it was easier to talk to her. "So you must still have funerals. Grieving people. That sort of thing."

"Well, yeah... but it's sorta different," she said, scouring the pan with surprising ferocity. "Like, since they have to decide to let it happen - a long while in advance, usually - people treat it as more like... a choice, I guess. Sad, but not really somethin' scary or forced on anybody." She let it drop into the water, letting out a small sigh. "Plus, unless they've been around for so long they don't even really have a connection any more, you can always make a new Tertiary from the same source. So in a way, it feels less like they're dead and more like they've just... gone away. The same way you might end up in a different Domain to somebody and not see them until you barely remember who each other are any more."

I swallowed the air. I understood what she meant, but there was something economical about putting it in those terms that I couldn't help but find disturbing.

"But you... unless your privacy protection in the Reflection went away too... even that might not be an option." She reached down a little deeper into the sink, probably cleaning the cutlery. "I gotta admit, even I really can't wrap my head around it. Thinkin' about the idea of a person just disappearing forever. In a way you can never talk to 'em again. It's... I dunno. It's spooky." I heard a small, uncomfortable laugh. "Sorry, now I'm just talking about my own feelings."

"You don't have to keep apologizing, Ptolema," I told her.

"See, it always used to be us saying that to you, back in the day!" she said, finally craning her head to glance back at me for a moment. She was wearing a complicated expression; a tense smile, and a brow that she seemed to be trying to force higher than it wanted to go. "I'm being a lousy friend."

"I don't think that's true," I said, shaking my head. Well, it is kind of true, but... "And even if it were, from your perspective, this is the first time we've spoken in a billion years or whatever. Dumping all this on you on top of that, I can't exactly blame you for not knowing how to handle it."

"Ugh, you're so considerate, too! It feels bad!" she whined, turning back and doing a final rinse of the plates before stacking them to dry. "Like I'm screwin' up!"

"You're not screwing up," I told her. "If anything, I've been kind of surprised by how much more mature and insightful you've gotten compared to when we were kids."

I didn't note how she held up against how the other Ptolema had come across, both because I hadn't known her well enough to judge, and also because it didn't really seem like a fair comparison.

"Pah," Ptolema replied, shaking her head. "My grandma used to say that maturity ain't how fancy you are with words, it's how much grit you've got." She slammed her mug, the final item, down on the rack. "I've got no grit left. Other than those first twenty-four years of my life, the biggest tragedies that I can't remember is gettin' into spats with old friends."

I blinked. "W-Wait, you were only twenty-four, back when we were in class? I thought you were the same age as me."

She blinked herself, obviously thrown off by the sudden shift in topic. "Uh, you mean 'cause of when we first met back in Oreskios University? Nah, I was like 17 then. I just always looked sorta old for my age, I guess." She shook her head. "But yeah-- Like I was saying, even if I can remember it, I can't even really bring to mind the pain I felt, back when my mom died. t just feels academic. Like a phantom limb. Or a, uh, phantom not-having-a-limb, I guess."

How the hell did Ptolema get into the class when she was almost 10 years younger than me? This is bullshit.

"Anyway," she digressed. "I guess I'm tryin' to say that I don't really know what I can do to help, or even how to react at all, at least right now. This all feels kinda beyond me." She looked back to me, her smile now more ordinary and unambiguous. "But, if there's anything I can, I'm here for you, right? If you wanna stay here, or look for a Domain that might be a better fit... whatever."

"Y-Yeah," I said, only half having absorbed what she was saying. "Thanks."

"Of course," she said, with a sincere look. She leaned against the kitchen counter. "Gods, though, it really is screwed up. Even if you really did agree to it on paper, making you the only one here who has to worry about all this is-- Well, it's downright sadistic. I'd probably have tried to lose myself dreaming, too." She made a disgusted grunt, shaking her head. "Knowin' that something that'd do that could be watching my every move right now... seeing everything that happens here, that's ever happened..." She laughed stiffly. "No offense, but I really do hope you just got fooled somehow."

I couldn't disagree there. It certainly made it harder to view Dilmun on its own terms; as a paradise that just is, with the outside world being nothing but a distant dream.

Anyway, Ptolema was obviously trying her best, but I couldn't help but not feel particularly comforted by her attitude. I didn't want to be pitied; I wanted to look for a solution. This had put me back in the same place I'd been in before venturing to the Empyrean Bastion, and even if the nature of the problem had changed, my attitude hadn't. I couldn't accept it. I couldn't.

There had to be more to the situation than the entity had been letting on. Why else would she have thrown me out like that, obviously eager to explain my dilemma but for no clear reason, and with an invitation to return should I discover anything interesting?

Either way, this wasn't the Remaining World. This wasn't some physical problem that could only hope to be solved by a medical miracle. No, it was more like a curse out a fairy story.

And those could be broken.

Of everything she'd said, I could only think of one tangible hint in regard for what she might have wanted me to investigate.

"Ptolema," I said, after taking a breath. "I wanted to ask... One of the things she mentioned towards the end was that there are still remnants of the commands that created the loop left in this world that she's just tried to 'sweep under the rug', but that I'd probably learn about if I spent enough time here." I looked up at her. "Do you have any idea what she might be talking about?"

I could see Ptolema's mood shift quickly through three states in response to this question; first confusion, then alarm, finally landing on awkward reticence, her eyes breaking contact with mine. "I... might have some idea, yeah." She looked towards the ground. "It's another thing that everybody who was at the conclave has probably suspected for a long time already. And also part of why I wasn't surprised, I guess."

I blinked. "What is it?" I asked, not expecting things to have been that simple.

She hesitated a little. "You... remember the Manse, right? That place you first showed up in?"

I nodded. "The building Nora said shows up in every single Domain, and that the Waywatch guards." I paused a beat. "...and that I should stay away from. Because it's a 'joke whoever made this world played on us'."

"Haha, yeah. Kinda on the nose that she put it like that now, huh." She coughed into her first uncomfortably. "It's-- Well, without sayin' too much, there's kinda a connection it's easy to figure, between it and what happened to us. Or at least it seems that way."

"'Without saying too much'?" I raised an eyebrow. "Can't you just say it?"

"Uh." Her expression grew evasive, her gaze wandering even further. "W-Well, it's tough to explain, but it's kind of a... touchy subject, to people around here. Lately, you can get yourself in trouble even talkin' about it."

I narrowed my eyes. "You... think someone might be spying on us, you mean? Like, from whatever the government here is?"

"No, nothin' so dramatic!" she refuted, holding up a hand. "Just, like. You only just got here, y'know, and you're in kind of a bad spot... so I guess I'm sorta worried that if I say too much, you might do something rash where people might notice. Or even just cause a misunderstanding." She scratched behind her ear. "Folks in the Waywatch have a really itchy trigger finger with it lately. There was an incident the other year that got people worked up."

"I mean, they almost kicked me out just for turning up outside of it, so I sort of assumed," I said. "But if you won't even give me basic information about it, I won't even have enough context to be discreet."

Ptolema's whole face wrinkled up for a moment, like I'd presented her with some manner of rhetorical Gordian Knot. Then she let out a long sigh through her nose. "The Manse is a... well, I guess it's a building, sort of, but also a kind of puzzle... that's also sorta like its own Domain, uh, kind of. And when you go in there, there's like. A bunch of books."

"Books."

"Yeah," she said, nodding. "And like... you can sorta draw a connection between 'em and the stuff that happened at the conclave."

"How... so?"

"Well," she said, "they might be about it?"

Mm, this feels a lot more like the Ptolema I remember.

"They're about it? About the conclave?"

"Yeah," she said, nodding. "Well... maybe. It might also be more complicated. Ran had this theory once-- Wait, no. I shouldn't say that."

My whole head perked. "Ran had a theory about it? What did she say?"

"N-No, I don't wanna give you the wrong idea," she said, biting her lip. "And it's not really my place."

"Ptolema, you're being kind of difficult about this," I said sternly.

"I'm sorry!" she protested. "It's complicated! There's a lot of different stuff to worry about it, I don't wanna get in any trouble!"

"Just a minute ago, you said you'd do anything you could to help," I said, trying to come across like I was only saying it in a tongue-in-cheek way, but still feeling like an asshole regardless. "I'm just trying to get the basic facts about whatever it is."

"C-C'mon, Su, don't play that card." Her face flushed. "Look, I don't know much about the Manse anyway, okay? I can barely even remember the last time I actually went inside, so all I have is hearsay. I mean-- A lot of hearsay, but still. I feel like I'm gonna screw it somehow if I just pass it on like we're schoolkids playin' Diakosi whispers." She folded her arms. "And I've got a lot of reasons to not wanna get kicked out of the Crossroads. I'm holding on to this place for Ophelia, for one thing, and I've got a bunch of... obligations to other people, too."

"Maybe I should just go there and see for myself," I said. "You wouldn't have to get involved that way, and I could cut out the middleman and draw my own conclusions."

"No, don't do that!" she objected, alarmed. "The Waywatch will catch you for sure!"

"I'll just go to a different Domain," I said dismissively. "If there's an entrance in all of them, it shouldn't be a problem, should it?"

"They'll still catch you!" she insisted. "There's rules to how it all works, and unless you really know what you're doin', they'll have a way to figure it out!" She rubbed her brow. "And the last thing somebody in your situation needs is to be thrown out of the biggest Domain. That'd make even more problems."

"What do you expect me to do, then?" I asked her. "Just not worry about it until I die?"

Her face gave the impression that she thought maybe that was the correct response, so I countered with a deep, unhappy frown. Her brow knotted, and she made a hesitant, uncomfortable noise.

"L-Look," she said, "maybe there's somebody else you can talk to about it. Somebody who's a bit more of an expert, and who isn't so worried about gettin' the boot if something goes south."

I bit my lip, not sure what I thought about the idea. "That could make things kind of difficult," I said, still hoping I could apply enough pressure to get her to spill the beans. "You said yourself that I wouldn't be able to tell someone outside of our class about my situation and have them take me seriously. So there's a lot of more contextual questions I wouldn't be able to ask."

She hesitated for several moments, obviously running mental calculations as to if what she was about to say would be something she'd end up regretting. She mumbled something to herself nervously, then sighed.

"Well..." then she eventually spoke cautiously. "...what if that wouldn't be a problem?"

𒀭

It turned out, in the end, to be a lot more of a hassle to track down his apartment then Ptolema had suggested. Finding the book club had been easy - it hadn't even been that far from the part of the City we'd explored the day previous, based in a surprisingly prominent location in an adjacent tower to the one we'd purchased my resonator. (Ptolema's favorite restaurant, incidentally, turned out to serve exotic barbecue.) However, finding someone actually around on an off-day who knew where he lived was a much greater task. The venue, a classy place with an esoteric and minimalist variant of Mekhian architecture, apparently hosted different clubs and events every day of the week, and it'd taken speaking to the manager before I could even be pointed in the direction of somebody in the proper group.

That'd been its own ordeal; running up to a stranger coming out of an art class and awkwardly namedropping Ptolema and some other details to convince them I wasn't some busybody would have been out of my comfort zone at the best of times, let alone in an entirely new society I hadn't visited until a day ago. It was a small wonder I didn't give myself a stroke, though I suppose here that wouldn't have been that big a deal.

Still, she'd been surprisingly accommodating once I'd got over my nerves, and about fifteen minutes of poor navigation later, I was standing at the door. It turned out the central white-gold superstructure of the city was hollow, and while I didn't end up going all the way inside, the building was built into one of the liminal corridors between the two spaces, and seemingly not a particularly busy one. As a result, it felt about as 'off the grid' as one could get in an environment like this, the tightness of the space almost evoking the Empyrean Bastion, albeit with much greater grandeur. Everything here was tall, triumphant and glistening, even the shadowed alleyways.

The building itself, like Nora's shop, extended out of the greater structure of the city seamlessly, though here it was laid in so deep it almost evoked some ancient mountain hold out of a fantasy setting. I had to walk a solid ten steps down a dark corridor on the 2nd floor just to get to the door; a simple thing of wood and brass.

Still, it wasn't that much of a surprise. If I could think of anyone who would go out of their way to live in a place this humble in what was essentially a giant flying palace, it would be him.

I rattled the knocker, really hoping he'd be in. Not just because I didn't want to sit around in Ptolema's front room fermenting in existential despair any longer, but because - though I hadn't fully realized it up until this moment - I was kind of desperate to talk to a familiar face about all this that, well, wasn't Ptolema. Not that she hadn't been incredibly sweet and done a great job talking me through my situation initially, and even surprised me several times, but... there were types of conversation that just weren't a feature of her personality, I'll put it like that.

It took a while for a response to come, to the point that I'd started to worry. But finally, I heard footsteps, and the door cracked open.

And then I saw something I hadn't expected.