A Matter Of Trust

To dream about Facebook for one night raised a chuckle. To dream about Facebook the next night is to be perturbed. I kept trying to duck around the dream and go elsewhere, but the screen hemmed me in like a fence.

Well, maybe it’s the subject matter that’s important. On all the screens were possible replies to a mini-rant I had posted. A topic that deeply angered and wounded me at the time, but by the time I went to bed was already emotionally dealt with and almost forgotten.

I wondered if I had residual issues about it. Was I truly done with the trigger? I looked over the screens, each one filled with imaginary conversations with different folk. Some bystanders helping to stir pots, some active participants that were upset that I was upset. I loaded the screen with the initial trigger. It no longer enraged me. I can’t change the poster’s world view. If anything, my rage probably confirmed the stereotype to her. Fuck it. I have other things to worry about than a throwaway comment in a private group in which I have zero emotional investment.

I turned away, but still the screens remained. They multiplied and surrounded me, hemming me in and keeping me from deeper sleep. I did not fight against them, just noted I should start spending more time offline and tried to wait out the night.

The screens demanded to be viewed. Demanded my attention. Demanded a response from me. How dare I let these words go unchallenged! Can’t I see that I’m being tricked and used by these people! They’re laughing at me through their keyboard! Why aren’t I raging! WHY AM I NOT RAGING?!

Oh. Smell that? It resembles Lysol Disinfectant spray. It’s the same scent the “reporter” and the “caretaker” had before. It’s the scent of manipulation. Okay, let’s play the game and see who blinks first.

“Oh. My. How angry I am. Rage. Rage. Rage. Grr. And shit. How dare they say these mean and nasty things about me that are not likely to be true but I’m letting my emotions get the better of me and imaging worse scenarios than what is actually happening.” I spoke out loud in a very droll and dry voice. If my suspicions are correct, my game opponent will take it as legitimate. “I think I’ll hide away from everyone and hide my face because I am sorely wounded and I don’t know who to trust anymore.”

“It’s okay. You can trust me.” Bingo. On hearing the gentle and soothing voice answer mine I almost burst into triumphant laughter. But this fish is merely nibbling at the hook. This time I’m not content with just establishing dominance and chasing the manipulator away. This time, I want to roast the bastard.

“No, I can’t trust anyone. I can’t even trust myself. I don’t know what to do. Everyone is laughing at me.” The screens solidified into a solid fence around me. The colors blending into each other in a dizzying array.

“There, there. Don’t listen to them. You can’t trust them. But you can trust me. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll stay between you and them and they will never hurt you.” How I resisted keeping my rage down at the oversweetened bullshit, I have no idea. I wondered how many other dreamers has this manipulator boxed into neat little worlds.

The manipulator hasn’t stepped within arm’s reach however. Ke has learned from the first two encounters, I suppose. Instead of confronting me directly, ke is using the merged screens to blind me. Very well then, I will allow myself to be “restrained”.

A fake whimper. A fake sigh. A hanging of the head in resignation. The screens wrap around me like a straight-jacket, dulling my senses and retarding my movement. The scene around me changes. No longer in a pocket world, I find I am sitting in the cafe of the City. I am not in my usual booth, however. I’m sitting in a different booth, with a different server, and with a different companion.

I can’t see very far, but I can see enough to recognize who is sitting two booths over watching me and my new companion with interest. The Envoy of the City. He is stirring his coffee absentmindedly as he studies me intensely. There is a shade of concern across his face. If I have him fooled, then surely my new companion is completely deluded.

My new companion has the garb of a nurse. Pale blue scrubs, plain shoes, hair pulled back into a bun. The appearance of a woman, but something about the way ‘her’ body moved was off. Her face had the gentleness of a devoted caretaker. Her eyes were bright with triumph. I looked up at her, masking my predatory glee, and whimpered. I had to make a noise. It was either laughing which would have broken the illusion, or whimpering in character. I made sure it was a mournful sound.

“No, it’s okay. Look! I have your favorite drink. Here, take a sip.” She pushed a mug of warm brown liquid into my hands. The scent of Lysol steamed from it. I picked it up slowly, and considered if to spring my trap now or to let out more fishing line. The Envoy suddenly made a clatter of noise. My nurse companion jumped at the sound, allowing me the cover of ‘dropping’ the mug in surprise myself. Taking advantage of the sudden nervousness of the nurse companion, I ‘wailed’ in sorrow at dropping the mug.

“There, there. It’s okay.” The nurse looked behind her with concern. My eyesight still limited by the blinding, I could see the Envoy’s body position was directed away from us, but not if he was watching us. “Come on, let’s go some place more… quiet. We can play games there! Wouldn’t that be fun! There will be no one there to hurt you. It will be just you and me.” As the nurse stood up to collect her bag, I could see the Envoy turning his head left and right in a deliberately large gesture. The meaning was clear. Don’t leave with her.

The nurse took my arm to pull me to my feet. But I hunkered down as if still scared. “Come on, now. It’s okay. I’m with you.” I whimper in ‘fear’ and curl myself inward. Come on, bitch. Commit to physically engaging me. She adjusts her bag over her back and pulls on my arm with both hands. “We have to go. Now. Let’s go.” At her change in tone, I ‘whimper’ more and slide deeper into the booth.

“Dammit.” She looks over her shoulder at the Envoy again. “Listen, girl. We have to go and we have to go right now. You trust me, don’t you?” I nod my head. “Then, let’s go!” I shake my head. The nurse drops her bag and leans into the booth to yank me out. Curling into a ball and tucking my head into my chest, I wait until she has physically committed to the action.

“You little bitch, come O-AHHHHH!” I call my feather cloak to myself and explode over her. I shred the bindings around me like so much wet toilet paper and leap with a snarl forward. I push her out of the booth and onto the ground. She lands harshly on her back with my knee in her stomach. One hand holds one of her hands, my other hand holds her neck. But my cloak has become winglike, with hands of their own. One feathered ‘hand’ pins her free hand to the ground, while my free leg entangles one of hers. My other wing-hand hovers over us, shielding us from interference by bystanders.

Our movement comes to a stop. I smile and simply say, “Hi.”. She stares at me in shock and disbelief. “You know, this is the third time you have tried to fuck me over. I know I’ve become quite sex-positive in the past year and open about what I’m willing to try, but I still require consent before the games begin. And you, haven’t even so much as asked me if I wanted to play. I don’t like that.” I allow my face to contort into a very toothy grin. “I don’t like that at all.”

“No… you… you don’t understand. I’m trying to help you. I’m trying to protect you! There are people here that will hurt y-ACK!” I tighten my grip on her throat.

“Bitch. Please. I know I’m naive, but I’m not stupid. The first time you tried to trap me, you used my fear against me. The second time you tried to trap me, you tried to push me into madness. And now, you’re trying to use my social anxiety to force me into hiding. You’re doing the very opposite of what the people I trust are doing to help me. They are helping me free myself, you are trying to throw me under the prison. With you as my jailor.”

I loosen my grip enough to allow her to speak. “Who wants me chained so badly that they send you three times against me? What do you gain from being my jailor?” The nurse’s appearance blinks into a faceless humanoid for a split moment before returning. I realize I’m not going to get any answers out of her. She is imprisoned herself, and probably doesn’t realize it. “Fuck it. I’m going to let you go.” Her eyes widen as she nods vigorously. “But, I have a message for you to take back to your masters.” She nods and whispers that she’ll do so.

“Excellent!” The small crowd around me steps back at the sudden brightness to my tone. Still smiling, I stab my free wing-hand into her chest. I grab and wrench free a chunk of her body. Skin, bone, fat, and piece of lung dangle bloodily from my wing-hand. The stench of Lysol is everywhere. “Tell them, this is my last kindness towards their pets. I have broken demon and angel. I have no fear of deity or Power. Tell them to stop fucking with me, or I will begin their Unmaking.” Her eyes, widened from pain, are focused on the pound of flesh I’m holding. She nods in understanding, though.

I stand up, releasing her from my grip. She loses the humanoid form at once and shrieks out into the street as a tattered phantasm. I shake off the last of the bindings and note the cloak is still appearing as a feathered set of working arms. If there was ever any doubt whose cloak this is, that doubt is settled. It has become an extension of myself.

The cafe servers are quick to place the overturned table and chairs back in order. Jill comes to me, strangely nervous, with a waterproof bag. She offers to take away the chunk of flesh that I am still holding. I find it interesting that the flesh did not sublimate away when the ‘nurse’ retreated. I place the flesh into the bag, and wipe my wing-hands with the towel she offered. But the bag went into my traveling satchel, much to her surprise.

“You’re… keeping it?” I nodded. She swallowed hard and blanched slightly.

“Jill. Are you okay? What’s wrong?” She shook her head quickly and muttered she was just shaken by the excitement. But her eyes quickly darted towards the still sitting Envoy before she turned and left me.

Have I ever mentioned how much I hate politics?

This City is a city of humans. Jill is not human. She appears as such because of her magic bracelet that changes her form. I had fixed it earlier for her and kept her confidence about it. However, when I fixed it, it was in front of Roger.

The same Roger that had tried to keep me on a short leash of his own.

The City is not fond of non-humans, and the Envoy is THE representative OF the City.

God damn politics.

“I’m sorry, Weaver, but your regular booth won’t be accessible for a while. The… fun you had kinda broke some things.” Jill was looking better, and was apologetic for my discomfort.

“So, what do I owe the cafe in damages and how can I help fix it?” Jill looked at me in surprise that I would ask. She started to stutter the word, “Nothing.”, but the Envoy interrupted her.

“Things work a little different here than they do in the Waking, Weaver. Because the cafe owner does not hold you responsible for the damages, there is nothing to owe. Because nothing of power was broken, the cafe will heal itself before your dream has ended.” He claps softly and obviously. “Bravo, by the way. That was a wonderful display of restraint. And of power. Come! Sit with me. I promise your next cup of coffee will not be tainted.” I noticed Jill blanching again as he spoke.

I guess I might as well. Perhaps I’ll get some answers this time. I sit down before him. Jill is quick to bring me a mocha. Despite the Envoy’s assurances, I still check the mug. Thankfully, Jill is not offended. I thought it odd that I would worry more about her than the Envoy.

“You played along so well, I thought I would have to intervene. But you are quite the actress, Weaver.”

I sipped my coffee and relaxed a bit. “What gave it away that I was faking being subdued? Because there was a binding on me, after all.”

“The binding was only as strong as you were willing to allow it to be. She did not understand that and thought it was all or nothing. And what gave it away? You paused when she handed you the coffee. That is something completely out of character for you. The only thing that would make you pause before coffee, is if you didn’t trust it. The only reason you would not trust it, is because you was aware of the situation.” He sipped his own drink. “Well done, Weaver. You had me fooled and well.”

“I hope I did not cause trouble for you.” I was sincere. Even though I don’t trust him a gnat’s weight, he has enough on his hands being the Envoy.

“No. But you did provide quite the entertainment!” He signaled to Jill and placed an order for a fresh cup and for her to erect a privacy screen at the booth. He said nothing further until both requests were filled.

“It has only been a few months. But you have made quite a few advancements for yourself, Weaver. You said you are naive. And you are. But nothing like the bright-eyed ingenue that I first saw at… what name do you call him? ‘Roger’, correct? Yes. I first saw you at Roger’s awakening.” He sips his coffee with smug assurance.

My blood ran cold. The mocha in the cup nearly froze from it. I took me a moment to regain the ability to speak. “When? It took five nights to awaken him. And even then, there were many people involved.”

“You were sleeping when I entered the lobby. Understandably so, after what I had heard you had done on his behalf. I was surprised to see the keys had been passed on, and to who. He had claimed a right to be allowed into the City, seeing there were… things… binding him to you. Or is that binding you to him? Semantics. A little change in word order can mean so much.” He chuckled. “Roger did not have a true form to him just yet, you see. Where he would be allowed to leave the building into, would determine what he would become. I saw no reason to deny his request. It was safer for both of you that he enter a human world.”

He finished his coffee. “And since you had your own set of keys, who better to release him into the City than you, yourself.” He placed the empty mug on the saucer without sound. “I underestimated you, Weaver. I thought you ignorant to these realms. Without knowledge, and without connections of your own. You are still quite naive to this City, but you are not helpless. Some say, you are a power in your own right.”

Nerve. He has hit it.

“Please don’t flatter me, Envoy. I haven’t the finesse to deflect it properly without sounding like an utter ass. I don’t know how to play the diplomatic game, and I don’t want to make a mistake that others will have to atone for. I am no power. I am merely ‘Weaver’.”

He laughs deeply with table shaking bass. “No, Weaver. You’re still asleep. How did the Matron describe you? ‘The right kind of randomness.’” All humor fled his face. “Little wonder why so many strive to keep you from waking. If this is what you accomplish from mere serendipity, what will you do when you move from purpose?”

His face resumes a bright composure and he quickly changes the subject. “You have a place of lodging here in the City, you know. The same keys that open the Building, opens the door to it. Yet you choose to settle elsewhere in the realms. Why not take advantage of what is yours. Cease this wandering among those that think you another toy. The City would embrace you, Weaver, if you embrace the City.” He leans towards me. “Think of it. You can have any life you want here. Any. Life.” He sits back in his chair and says quietly, “Even a normal one. A mundane life without these… complications.”.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to rage. I wanted to flip the table and ask him what the fuck gives him the right to mock me. Then I look over, past the privacy screen, and see the mundane folk of the City doing as mundane folk do. Dreamers, each and every one of them. Living a mundane life. Whatever their Waking world situation is, it doesn’t touch them here. Not apparently, at least. I understand what the Envoy is offering me.

I suddenly understand what Unmaking is.

And I shudder.

“I can’t have a normal life, Envoy. A normal life will cripple me because I’m not normal, not here, and not in the Waking. I have to be true to myself. I’ll poke around at the lodging the City offers, but it is not my home. There are many things about myself I do not know, but what I do know, I treasure. I am not normal, Envoy. And I’m okay with that.”

He shrugs.

We talked a bit more about the Building, and about others connected to me. But of this part of the conversation, I am not at leave to publicly record. Time to go. “I hope to continue this discussion further. I saw you have a souvenir of the one that would capture you. What are you going to do with it?”

I patted my satchel contentedly and smiled. “Play fetch with some friends.” His face maintained diplomatic friendliness, but the glint in his eyes and the barely seen twitch of his hands expressed a sense of dissatisfaction with my answer. I waited for him to begin pontificating on the matter but he chose to remain silent.

He stands, signifying my impromptu meeting with him was over. “Choose your friends, carefully, Weaver. Very carefully.” He bids me adieu with full formality and offers to walk with me out of the cafe. I decline, telling him I have other matters to attend to before waking. He leaves the cafe.

I search for Jill.

“What the hell was that about, Jill?” She shakes her head. “Don’t bullshit me. You’re shaking like a leaf, and I doubt it was from my little performance. The Envoy?” She looks like she’s about to burst into tears anew.

“He knows.” She nodded. “Is this going to be a problem?”

“I don’t know. He just kept… staring at me. It’s like I didn’t even have it on and he could see me as I am!”

I sigh. “He probably could. Seeing who and what he is. I don’t know if I can help your situation any, but don’t be afraid of the Envoy. If you weren’t to be in the City, you would have been expelled by now, I think.” She relaxes a bit and thanks me for caring enough to ask.

“I have to be nice to you, Jill! You make my coffee!” She laughs with me. We say our farewells and I wake up soon after.

None of this is helping my paranoia. Not one bit.

Make of that, what you may.