1
	Gegi and Plots discuss being open-minded. "Oh yeah, things 
happen. I often find that I act without thinking in sudden situations, 
but other times I look at it from every angle. My mind has gotten so open 
that it's impossible to shut it now. As I remember a friend of mine 
saying, How far can you open your mind before your brain falls out?" He 
chuckles. "I've found out."
	"The problem is when your mind falls out and something steps in 
to take its place..."
	Plots chuckles. "Nothing would really want to step inside my 
head. It's not very pretty in there."
	She raises her eyebrows. "You're purer than I, friend, from what 
I can tell...and obviously Somebody found my head to be a nice place to 
camp..."
	"Well, no, I haven't dabbled in the occult, if that's what you 
mean. Unless you count using the Oujia board a few times with friends. 
I've read a lot about it, but never tried anything directly."
	"Occultism doesn't have a thing to do with purity... well, unless 
you end up summoning demons, but surely it can't be that common." She 
smiles. "I meant -goodness-... I think you're more -good- than I am." Her 
gaze wanders to Gabby, and she flinches slightly.
	He watches her face carefully. "What happened between you two?"
	"I told you, you wouldn't understand..."
	"Try me." His voice is serious.
	She shakes her head. "It was a long time ago... we were in fourth 
grade, and everyone knows fourth grade is the most miserable time in your 
life. We were friends then." She pauses. "Have you read Lord of the Flies?"
	Plots makes a disatisfied frown, and shakes his head. "No. I have 
had a smattering of it from various sources. So I know some about it, but 
not too many details."
	She nods. "It sounds so silly to everyone else..." and takes a 
step back, to get a good view of her surroundings. This is clearly 
uncomfortable material, but for some reason she wants, just once, to tell 
someone what happened. "I got into some trouble in school that year, 
nothing serious, really, but at the time it was a horrible embarassment. 
I was the first person in our class ever to get a conduct detention, and 
I didn't even -do- anything..." She cuts off. "Anyway, I was horrified. I 
was sure my father would beat me if he found out. So I planned to run 
away from home. Gabby and another girl helped me plan it. There was an 
orphanage in another state that supposedly took in runaways and treated 
them pretty well... she was going to find me a bus schedule... I was 
gathering money and supplies. It might have worked."
	"One day, after school, Gabby and I were cutting the activity we 
were supposed to be attending to discuss the plans. And all of a sudden I 
think it struck her that I was serious about all this, and she got 
nervous. She started trying to convince me not to go. I wouldn't listen, 
of course, I've always been 
melodramatic, I'm sure I was saying that I couldn't live with my parents 
after this, that they'd never forgive me, and so on. She got more and 
more worried. Finally she said that her sister was a psychiatrist and she 
would call her and make her take me and lock me up if I didn't give up 
this idea."
	She takes a quick breath. "You have to understand that being 
crazy is absolutely my worst fear. Nothing else even compares. All my 
life I've been terrified that they were going to lock me up and drug me 
and... Gabby didn't know that. Anyway, I panicked. I started running. She 
chased after me. I was
overwrought anyway, and the adrenalin was kicking in. I was too scared to 
think straight."
	"She chased me. I didn't know where I was running. She got me 
into a corner. I whirled around to face her, and I was so afraid and so 
desperate that I lost all rationality. She froze. I froze. And we just 
stood there. If she'd moved backwards, I would have made a break for it, 
probably knocking her down in
the process. If she'd stepped forward, I would have attacked her. She 
said later that she was quite sure that if she'd moved, I would have 
killed her."
	She takes another deep breath, not looking him in the eye. "I was 
hysterical. In that instant I had lost control. I really don't know what 
would have happened. I was just a kid, an overemotional kid. I don't 
think I could have killed her, but I've always been a lot tougher than I 
look, and fighting by instinct against someone who was much weaker than 
I, I could really have hurt her. I was not sane."
	She shrugs. "At that moment a teacher showed up. And just like 
the ending of Lord of the Flies, where they suddenly became nothing but 
little boys with paint on their faces, all the tension was gone. But I 
-knew-, and she -knew-, what might have happened. It was my first look at 
the dark monster inside 
myself, and she saw it too, and found something similar in her, and we 
could never really look each other in the eyes after that."
	She sighs. "I'm sure you'll think I'm being ridiculous about a 
very minor incident that happened a long time ago. Everyone does. No one 
understands unless they have -felt- that moment when they realized that 
they could kill..."
	He smiles reassuringly. "You lost control. I don't think that's 
ridiculous. I think it happens to the best of us. And remember, it 
*might* have happened, not to say that it *did*. More importantly, do you 
think that the one incident you had with the tension was cause enough for 
her to actually cast you as a major villain in her background?"
	"Not in itself, although it did keep us away from each other for 
a few years. But Gabby was very sick in junior high with some rare 
disease... she was out of school for a year, just coming in every morning 
to pick up schoolwork. And recently, when we've been on speaking terms 
again, she's claimed that I cast
a curse on her right before she fell sick, that I got angry at her for 
something and said to her face that I was casting a spell on her. She 
also said that one of our teachers believed this completely and warned 
Gabby to be nicer to me or bad things would happen to her... but it's 
hard to tell with Gabrielle.
She tells a lot of tall tales. You never know what she really thinks."
	He steps closer to her, and says in a low voice. "And I'll be 
honest with you about something...I'm scared to death of what might 
happen if I ever lose control. All my life, nothing has ever driven me to 
lose control. But I wonder what would happen if..or when, something does 
push me over the limit. That's over
twenty-two years or backlash I have stored up."
	She looks past him. "I've lost control since then... screamed, 
hit people, all sorts of hysterics. It might be genetic... I've seen 
signs of it in my sister... that's why I -have- to be around people, 
people I can rant at and keep things from building up, or if nothing 
else, people I can depend to hold on to me
if I snap..."
	"You also need to start taking control over this, if it really is 
a problem. How long can you depend on others? Like you said before, 
you're worried about losing control in a crictal moment. If you've 
already lost it, then they can't do anything except pick up the pieces. 
You have to be the one to see it coming *and* stop it before it starts."
	Another shrug. "What am I supposed to do? I do my best to keep a 
handle on things, and have managed not to do any serious damage so far... 
but I'm -not- going to let them drug me."
	"You *could* try talking to Gabby some more, just stay out of 
slap range." He looks back over at her. "Honestly, give it a try, and if 
you really want to know, be persistent."
	"You said she got along pretty well with you... maybe you could ask?"
	Plots shrugs. "I suppose. I asked her before why she hated you, 
and she said it was the betrayal of the Dreaming and all of that. What do 
you want me to ask her?"
	She shrugs, obviously worn out from her admission. "I don't know. 
I suppose it doesn't really matter."
	"Are you saddened by how Gabby reacts to you, like a twinge of 
regret at all? It seems like an old wound that hasn't completely healed, 
and maybe that would help."
	"The real Gabrielle and I have gone our own ways. It might be 
better that way. But this one... just makes me sad. I never meant to hurt 
her."
	"Maybe you could tell her you aren't the same Gegi that she 
knows. It's true, after all. And given the nature of the pub, with 
fractured timelines and versions of people who exsist in alternate 
realities, it isn't that hard to believe. Besides," He crosses his arms 
and shrugs. "It might at least make you fell better."
	She sighs. "Maybe later, when she's not quite so actively 
screaming for my death?"

2
	"A mirror," says Mitch to Gegi.  "But if I am a mirror, it is a 
broken one, all rainbows and
glittering, but in the end something that's broken."
	"A broken mirror shows the truth better, fragments of reality 
making a bigger whole than the sum of the parts. Greetings, I don't 
believe we've met - I am known as Mauritz, sometime Prince of Albuquerque 
and New Mexico." says a pale man wearing fancy clothing and a top hat. He 
bows to her.
	She curtseys. "I'm Gegi. Prince only sometimes? Should we worry?" 
She takes pains not to meet his eyes.
	Mauritz smiles warmly while replying. "Nay, my comment was but a 
reflection upon my status; I am neither truly alive nor dead, but 
suspended in limbo here while the matter is resolved. I died just before 
entering this place, you know..."
	"Tsk. My condolences on your recent demise. I'm hoping to avoid 
dying outside while I'm still in."
	"My thanks for your condolences, but my death was ordained long 
ago - only the manner of it was up to me. Avoiding death is a most 
difficult thing to do." 
	"Prophecy is such a frustrating thing..."
	"Especially when the prophet lives in your head," Mauritz says. 
"How is it that you are here and there as well?"
	"I'm not entirely sure. Best not to point it out to reality, lest 
it fling me forcefully back where I belong."
	"Pain is that which reminds us of life, while pleasure is what 
living is for." Mauritz smiles gently as memories wash over him, almost 
visible from his expressions.
	"Doesn't do us any good to remind us of life if all life is 
ending. Do you know what the Four Last Things are, sir?" asks Gegi.
	"Love, faith, hope, and charity?"
	She shakes her head. "An important four, but not the four I'm 
looking for."
	"How could I not? My brain changed. It changed the *me* that I 
am, my sense of self and my view of the world. I Awoke." says Mitch.
	"As for me; the burning of the Vitae of my Sire, pouring into my 
veins, sundering my thoughts, hopes, dreams one from another, forging new 
minds around them. Tell me, what manner of Awakening was yours?" asks 
Mauritz.
	"You're Kindred. Malkavian?" She pulls a small pin, black with 
silvery highlights, a mirror with a crack running down the center,  out 
of her backpack and attaches it to her shirt.
	"I have the honor to bear the Vitae of Malkav in my veins, yes, 
though some would call it curse... What an interesting bit of jewelry. A 
mirror cracked, yet still whole..." His eyes narrow as he stares into the 
air over her head.
	"Aren't we all a little cracked?"
	"Half-baked cookies in the oven
 	     Half-baked cookies on the bus
	     There's a little bit of fruitcake left
 	     In every one of us." Mauritz says.
	"Never liked fruitcake. Or cheese logs."
	"I beg pardon for asking, but how did you come to know of the 
Kindred, and my clan in particular?"
	"I know many things. It's my job."
	"As it was part of mine, for a Prince without information is no 
Prince indeed. 'Tis difficult to rule those who can fool you; 
fortunately, the only one able to mask himself from my Sight is a good 
friend of mine... well, never mind. Do thy strange abilities then extend 
to plucking information from the aether? 
for I must say, thy aura is strange indeed... Far more robust than that 
of  Kindred, aye, but not so brilliant as a mage... Oh, raise thy eyes, 
child. I have no intention of meddling with thy mind."
	She reluctantly raises her eyes, wordlessly communicating that 
nasty things will happen if he tries. "Dreams, into my mind, teaching me 
things I should not know. Yes, sometimes. Many strange things happen to 
me, and around me."
	"Why, then, you are already more than half Malkavian! Dreams, 
though... dreams can be treacherous. How certain are you that these 
dreams are a good thing, and not an attempt to manipulate your mind? I 
have heard that some arts of the Kindred can twist a dream... and I 
believe the Restless may do so, as well. As for Mages, why, they claim 
they can do anything... and Garou can traverse the spirit-realm, where 
they might bargain with a spirit for such power. And then, the Fae claim 
to be the stuff dreams are made of... or perhaps, they are made of the 
stuff of dreams..."
	"No, no, not dreams in the night... those I shape for myself. 
Dreams in the day. Thoughts that are not my own, that wander through my 
mind."
	Mauritz frowns... and appears to be struggling for words. "This 
is a disturbing thing. My Sire has done such to me, from time to time, 
and I have had many battles trying to discover which were his thoughts 
and which mine own. Perhaps one of the mages in this place could help to 
discover if these 
extraneous thoughts of yours are harmful things, or merely stray impulses 
relayed to you by your abilities..."
	"Inspirations from the Infinite or perceptions of the folk around 
me, it makes little difference, really. We act on what we perceive. 
Everything can be manipulated. We do our best." Her eyes fall on Chloe.

3
	Gegi and Chloe discuss love. "Weren't you in love, then?" Gegi asks.
	"I suppose I was.."
	"You're not sure?"
	"He died in a boating accident last spring."
	"I'm sorry..."
	"I always thought before that I was completely in love with him.  
But, once he... its such a horrid thing to think.. don't mistake me, I 
mourn terribly still.. once he died, I think I.. I think I mourned the 
loss of being in love more than I did him. It's hard to explain and I 
know it sounds just awful. It is just awful,
but.." she sighs, "there's just always so much to mourn, it was nice to 
be in love."
	Gegi sighs. "I wish I were in love, or knew that I were, if only 
to be sure that I can. Love, that is. I have a lot of feelings for a lot 
of people, and it's all so confusing... and it seems that no one else has 
it figured out either. 'How do you know when it's love?'" She looks at 
the wall. "I feel -something- for him... but it all depends on whether or 
not you believe in love at first sight..."
	"I think I've concluded that its love when the person dies and 
you feel a lot more than I felt," she looks ashamed.  "And love at first 
sight, of course, I believe in that.  As long as one admits that a wife 
is little more than a trinket to the man.  The prettier the trinket, the 
more it shall be adored; the more it is adored, the more it loves its 
possessor," she speaks plainly, without any feminist ranting or cynicism 
in her voice.
	Gegi raises an eyebrow, but chooses to assume that Chloe is 
joking. "The less a woman has in her head, the lighter she is for 
carrying. And the numbers of people who still think that way are a factor 
into my dislike of the idea of marriage."
	"Things are so different then between men and women in a 
century?  I didn't mean to sound cynical, you see, I'm sure.. I know, 
there are men who probably certainly don't feel that way.  I don't think 
Quentin did.. and father sort of didn't... sort of.  Michael, the.. in 
the... well, him, he... I don't know.  He talked to me like I was his 
equal often, but it's often not a feeling manifested in one-on-one 
interaction, you know?  More like when you are with the families and the 
friends, all those awful thoughts about girls and their silliness start 
to come out."
	"Things have changed and are still changing. Laws and opinions 
both. There are still people who think that women are good for nothing 
but keeping house, or... reproducing, but these people are generally 
laughed at and considered to be a bit stupid. Women can be scientists, 
run businesses.. and we don't 
have to get married."
	Chloe smiles.  "Politicians, too?  Amazing.  I guess its to be 
expected, though.  Where I come from, well more when I come from, you can 
hear the beginnings of women.  Sure they just wear pantalettes and show 
up at town meetings.. but its a beginning, I suppose."
	"Pantalettes," Gegi says, and giggles, laying a hand on her own 
black jeans.
	Chloe smiles, embarrassed.  "Ok, ok, so it's not the most 
progressive of things to brag about... and it surely looks like clothing 
for women has gotten a bit more comfortable.  Is that.. what you're 
wearing.. not formal wear, is it?"
	"Not formal. But not likely to get thrown out of theatres, 
either. Clothing's gone lots of ways. As long as you cover certain parts, 
a lot of people won't care -what- you wear... tight black leather, ratty 
flannels, business suits, short skirts or long, whatever."
	"Of course, we still wear some fairly ridiculous things for 
formal events... and my school, at least, won't let you into the prom if 
you're not "appropriately attired"... but Maggie wore a tux once, and 
they thought that was fine. They probably wouldn't have let her date wear 
a dress, though... which is sexist in its own way, no?" She giggles. "Nor 
would they let a girl bring another girl as a date, even when they -knew- 
she wasn't serious... But I don't know, I never went."
	 She raises an eyebrow, "Why would a girl wear a man's attire.. 
or why would her date want to wear a dress?  And why wouldn't the girl 
want to bring a man with her?"  She furrows her brow.
	"Just for fun," Gegi smiles.
	They talk of culture. Gegi nods. "I've never been to an opera. 
Musicals, yes, and I suppose they're
similar, even if the cultural niche is different. And ballet - only the 
obligatory Nutcracker performances. And watching my sister's dance troupe 
perform. She was just about to get her first toe shoes when I... left."
	"When was that?"
	At this point Garret strides back into the pub. He stops just 
inside the door, smiles, and says in a loud voice, "Hello, everyone!  I 
hope you had a great Christmas and New Years, because I know I did."  
	"It was Christmas?" says Gegi, confusedly. "Darn time travel..."
	"Gegi!  You look a lot better.  How are you feeling?" he calls.
	"Hi, Garret! Much better, a little confused about a lot of 
things, and with a million questions for you... sorry about any damage I 
might have caused. Oh, and don't let the other mages convince you to go 
along with them..." 
	She looks back to Chloe. "Well, October 1996, to me... it still 
-should- be, as far as I know, but Garret was just out for Christmas. 
This time thing is very confusing."
	They talk about Vampire. "This game is really so popular?" Chloe asks.
	"Fairly so. Among we the geeks."
	Her eyes widen.  "You eat the heads off chickens?"
	"Huh? Whatever gave you -that- idea?"
	She looks confused.  "You said 'we the geeks'.  I assumed you 
meant those awful men in the circus who bite the heads of chickens and 
make children think they swallow them, no?"
	"Oh. Ick. I forgot about those. No, 'geek' nowadays means someone 
a little strange.... often someone who is more interested in intellectual 
pursuits than 'normal' social things... like a person who would prefer to 
read books and play games rather than go to parties and mingle with 
society. And because
we don't spend much time with the 'normal' people, we often dress a bit  
different, and so they poke fun... does that make sense?"
	She nods, smiling.  "Like the girls who'd prefer to get a package 
of books from home than a new sterling silver mirror and brush set?  I 
think I understand.  And, with this sort of game, I'm sure they think 
you're dangerous.. people like to belittle what they don't understand 
sometimes.."
	"Usually they just think we're crazy and stupid, not dangerous... 
but sometimes they blame us for all sorts of silly things that weren't 
our fault. Accusing us of being Satanists, and such." She remembers, and 
winces. "Not every vampire ends up in a coven like mine, really."
	"What is it they blame you for?"
	"Nutcases. Those few twisted sick humans who act like they really 
-were- Sabbat. Kill people. Or lesser things... some people might say 
that gaming taints your soul, or makes you kill yourself, or makes you do 
drugs, or not do your homework, or have bad breath, or whatever."

4
	Garret enters. He stops just inside the door, smiles, and says in 
a loud voice, "Hello, everyone!  I hope you had a great Christmas and New 
Years, because I know I did."  
	"It was Christmas?" says Gegi, confusedly. "Darn time travel..."
	Garret's grin flickers, and a small look of alarm surfaces on his 
face. "Time travel?"
	"That's right, you were gone before I left and came back... my 
group, on the other side. We're time travelers. Among other things. That 
and the flow in here has me a bit confused about what day it's supposed 
to be..." 
	Garret takes an involuntary step back upon hearing the term, 
"Time travel".  His face smooths into a calm, clear mask, but his voice 
is taut with fear.  "I see." His free hand, the one not
holding his bag steady, is trembling. 
	She blinks. "Are you all right?"
	He half-smiles.  "Did you ever see the Twilight Zone episode 
where a man finds a watch that can stop time, then breaks it while time 
is frozen and spends the rest of his life in a timeless hell?"
	"Haven't seen much of the Twilight Zone, really." She pauses for 
a moment. "Messing with time flow doesn't bother me much... not like 
distance does... but that's more because I'm incredibly insensitive to 
it. Or something. Speed up, slow down, skip tracks, start somewhere else, 
I won't even notice. Linear
time doesn't seem to sink in very well to my head. Distance and movement, 
though. I can get dizzy just standing still. The world is spinning too 
fast." She drifts off, having apparently forgotten where this
train of thought started, then snaps back into focus.
	"You look a lot better.  How are you feeling?"
	"Much better, a little confused about a lot of things, and with a 
million questions for you... sorry about any damage I might have caused. 
Oh, and don't let the other mages convince you to go along with them..." 
	"Shoot, no problem, and what other mages?"
	She sweeps her hand in the direction of the Techno-raid 
congregation. (Let's see, that's Paul, Nyneve, Myung, tabula, Dancer... 
and just about everyone else nearby plotting or trying to dissuade... ) 
"Them."
	He looks over at the other table.  "That's a lot of mages.  Where 
are they going that you don't want me to go?"
	"They're planning to attack Autocthonia... But anyway, we got the 
demon out, although it seems that I've got a permanent taint on my soul 
now, and magick still fascinates me... Oh, and the world is coming to an 
end. My world, that is. I'm looking for ancient prophecies that might tie 
in... as Euthanatos, I thought maybe you'd know?"
	Garret blinks in confusion.  "Hold up, one thing at a time.  
They're planning to attack *where*?  And the demon left a permanent 
taint?  Have you asked someone to try a cleansing ritual?  And what 
prophecies are you interested in, people have been doomsaying the end of 
the world in every culture since the world began."
	"They're going up against the Technocracy... it's all -his- 
idea." She points to Paul. "I get lost in some of the details."
	He looks over at Paul.  "Why am I not surprised.  You said 
Autocthonia? As in, *the* Autocthonia?"
	"I assume there's only one," she says.
	He shakes his head.  "I was hoping I'd misheard.  FYI, 
Autocthonia is a serious technomancer stronghold."
	"I gathered. Iteration X, right? Seems that they've kidnapped and 
cyborged half of them" waves at the mages again "at some point... I 
didn't know it was such a common background."
	"I think a raggle-taggle band of uncoordinated tradmages have 
about as much chance of putting a dent in it as a camel does of passing 
through the eye of a needle."
	"They're going to get killed, most likely. And some of them don't 
seem to care."

	She returns to the earlier question. "I haven't had anyone work 
on the taint yet, but on my side Elfboy said there were only two ways to 
do it, one of which was kill me, and the other only I could do and he 
can't tell me about it... and anything done in here doesn't count over 
there, you see, so even if I could be cleansed, it wouldn't help."
	"I don't -know- which prophecies are important... we were just at 
the Oracle at Delphi, you see, and what the Pythia said sounded a lot 
like what little I know of the Christian ones, but I never paid much 
attention to end-of-the-world stuff. But the Oracle listed off all the 
sevens... seven seals, seven trumpets, seven mortals, so on... there are 
seven of us, you know... and then the four endings. The world shall end 
four times, the first in the flood, the second in the rebirth after the 
flood, the third the opposite of the first, and the fourth the opposite 
of the second. And mankind may or may not survive the third, which is the 
one we're about to run into. And I remembered a vague reference I saw in 
some old art texts to the Four
Last Things, but they never explained what it meant, because it seemed 
obvious to them, and no one seems to know... "
	She looks over at Chloe and adds mentally, <*Oh, yes, that's 
something else that happened while you were out... I got ghouled. By 
accident.*>
	<*By who? And are you familiar with the concept of blood-bonding?*>
	<* Yes, I know about blood-bonds... Chloe's adoptive Ventrue 
parent. She has a vial of his blood dyed blue - she didn't know what it 
was.  I fainted, she fed me some. *>

5
	Gegi discusses her problems with Plots. "Panic overdrive. I don't 
know, it -is- more violent than some of the manic descriptions... not 
that I don't have my euphoric moments, but hysteria is more likely."
	He nods. "Yeah, hysteria, or some form of it might be more 
feasible. I had a friend who was very protective of her personal space, 
but I never knew about it until we were wrestling, and she freaked. I 
managed to get out of range in time, but I felt like a heel for being the 
cause. She apoloigized after a minute of calming down, and explained what 
had happened. If that's what you have, it's not actually a mental 
disorder, just a bad reaction to certain stimuli."
	She nods. "The problem is, what -exactly- are those stimuli? I'll 
freak if I'm held down and tickled, but I think that's not so unusual... 
otherwise, anything can set me off. Really silly things. Immense 
overreaction. Tiny controllable emotion multiplying into something 
crippling."
	"Maybe that's a place to start. If the only thing in common with 
your freaking episodes is some trivial thing..."
	"No, that's what I'm saying. I don't see any common threads."
	"...then maybe that's it. Maybe they remind you of something the 
happened in your past that 
started as a really simple thing, but escalated into something really 
major. So now, your mind decides to jump the gun, and reacts as if it's 
already overblown. It doesn't think it's overreacting, because it
thinks it's reacting to what the situation will become, even though 
everyone else sees it as a simple problem."
	She smiles. "Me and dogs. -That- phobia has never triggered a 
full breakdown, though... just got me jittery enough to accidentally 
drive nails in."
	"You had a fear of dogs? Of this I was not aware."
	"I thought I told you that. Scared silly. Mother says I'm mildly 
allergic and I got locked in a car with a big dog once when I was really 
little and had a bad reaction and that's where my phobia came from. All I 
know is that they make me terribly nervous."
	He backs up. "But that's what *I'm* saying: The lack of common 
threads may *be* the thread."
	She looks very puzzled, then, "If so, that'd be a bit difficult 
to therapy out of me, no?"
	"You have a lot of pain buried there..."
	She shrugs, obviously uncomfortable.
	Plots looks at her softly. "Is there a reason for being so ill at 
ease discussing this? We've talked about demonic possession and the end 
of the world, and you haven't found them nearly as unnerving. Is this 
that much more personal? I thought you had said it was old news..." He 
looks concerned.
	She smiles a little. "Yes, well, all that stuff's -recent-. This 
is delving into my -past-. My childhood. The end of the world can't begin 
to compare."
	"Also, your childhood is a bit more personal than the end of the 
world, I would guess."
	"Insanity really is my deepest, most crippling fear. So much so 
that it makes me a little crazy. Self-fulfilling." Another shrug. "What 
am I supposed to do? I do my best to keep a handle on things, and have 
managed not to do any serious damage so far... but I'm -not- going to let 
them drug me."
	"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about changing your 
attitude about it. You obvisously don't like the knowledge of this, and 
you don't like the idea of losing control--snapping. But at the same 
time, you seem incrediblily content with it. For all the time I've talked 
with you about it, you express that you hate it, but haven't shown any 
real desire to combat it. All I'm suggesting is that you start with the 
basics: Believing that the power to overcome this is in *you*, and 
actually sticking to that ideal. Like
Elfboy said," he smiles, "Stop being a rock."
	Her eyes narrow. "I am -not- being a rock. I am -trying-."
	"Then try to solve things with Gabby. Maybe you could tell her 
you aren't the same Gegi that she knows."
	She sighs. "Maybe later, when she's not quite so actively 
screaming for my death?"
	"Well, I haven't heard her even asking for your death in the past 
few time frames. Got another excuse?" He smiles again, innocently.
	She ponders, then brightens. "That's it!" She turns to him. "She 
said I was an enemy of the Dreaming, right? Dauntain? Tell her to check 
my Banality. I -can't- be more than a five or six or so... unless," she 
looks worried, "the demon contact poisons that, but no, the Unseelie are 
still fae, being
evil doesn't make you Banal... Tell her to look!"

6
	"I never really understood the antagonism towards mimes... except 
the typical human condescension for anyone else's world, especially if 
they can't see it..." Gegi says to Mitch.
	"It may be that the mimes parodies our own actions. I certainly 
know of a place where mimes end up in a very nasty position."
	"Impaled?"
	"Suspended above a scorpion pit and a sign that reads 'Learn The Words'."
	"Heh. As I said. Arrogant condescension for someone with 
different priorities and opinions on what is beautiful. And they wonder 
why I don't care for normals."
	"There is never any life. Just illusions - dreams of existence, 
if you will. But then, what is dreaming? I do not know."
	"No, dreaming is easier... I have more control over the flow, and 
no one pressures me for definite explanations of what it all means... 
here we are mostly in a group dream, all tugging at different threads, 
moving it into a tangled knot."
	"What? Life? Or merely the shadows of a semblance of something 
not too distant from a life?
	"If this isn't life, what is? We do what we think we have to."
	"We are all victims of circuses...erm, circumstances."
	"Give them their bread and circuses and they'll be happy..."
	"But the thing is, no-one wants bread and circuses for their neighbours."
	"I think there's a bit more to it all than bread and circuses, 
but I want my neighbors to be happy... then again, I'm not considered 
normal."
	"Well, that's the principle, anyway. All people want is to be 
happier than their neighbors - most people, that is."
	"I'm an empath. It rather forces me to want other people to feel 
happy... except when I'm being evil. Then I just need them to feel."
	"It's all a matter of perspectives. If you want them to feel, 
stick a number of needles into their hands, or arms, or face. That'll 
make them feel soon enough."
	"True, but it also might prompt them to seek revenge, or lock me 
up, and I wouldn't like that. Generally I only stick needles in myself."
	"Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord. I have been locked up, I got 
out. It's mostly a matter of will."
	"I'd rather not have to put my will up against the world just 
yet. I'm not ready."
	"Theirs not to reason why..."
	"Theirs but to do and die.
	     Into the valley of Death
	     Rode the six hundred."
	"The light Brigade charges. Tip the world on its side and they're 
all falling down..."
	"They all fell down anyway..."
	"But the little lights are prettier if they keep falling than if 
they get snuffed in the dust."
	"Everything gets snuffed in the dust anyway, maybe not literally, 
but metaphorically speaking."
	"Everything, nothing, but you can draw it out. Streaks of light. 
Like rain.I like rain."
	"Rain of blood, seasons in the Abyss..."
	"No, not raining blood... you lose too much of it that way. And 
I've never  been to the Abyss."
	"And as for we who try to see, we end up tied to a pole with 
kindling at our feet, waiting for the last painful melting..."
	"But will it *be* painful? It all depends on who you are, and 
what you are, I suppose."
	"It certainly feels painful to me. Someone else has written my 
script, and I don't care for it..."
	Mitch begins to draw strange symbols with his blood. The blood 
seems to darken and steam somewhat, but remains still.
	"What's happening?" Gegi asks.

7
	You're sure there was no one there a minute ago... but now, she is.
	A woman is standing in front of the door. Her skin is a beautiful 
brown, her hair black and flowing to her waist. She is wearing a formal 
black dress, and a dazzling diamond and sapphire necklace. Her eyes are 
closed and her arms held to her sides. Without opening her eyes, she 
begins walking unerringly towards the table of plotting mages.
	Across the pub, Rhiannon flinches.

8
	"Tell her to look!" Gegi says to Plots.
	Throughly bewildered (the result of hearing "Gamespeak") Plots 
gives up trying to understand exactly what she's saying and just nods. He 
makes his way over to Gabby. "Hey Gabby?" He asks,
	"Hm?" Gabby looks back from her contemplation of Rowan. The 
adrenalin of the
last two life-threatening encounters seems to have finally faded... she 
looks like hell, and blinks at him wearily.
	"Um...somebody suggested that you check the...uh what was it? 
The..Banality? I think that's what it was...Check the banality of Gegi."
	She sighs. "Fine, whatever." And stares at Gegi. A confused look 
crosses her face. "That can't be right..." she starts to say, before her 
eyes suddenly roll back into her head. She promptly collapses.
	"Shit!"  The beautiful silver-haired woman is instantly there, 
and catches Gabby before she hits the  ground.  "Plots, wha' in th' hell 
was tha' about?"  
	"I - I don't, know, should we get her some water?" Plots grabs 
the jacket that Gegi had slept on and puts it under Gabby's head.
	Rowan gently lays Gabby down, and ducks behind the bar, looking 
frantically for something.  Mutterings in Garou and gaelic came barely be 
heard.  A little later, Rowan appears, looking triumphant.  She's 
carrying a small shot glass.  She hurries to Gabby, and gently props her 
against Rowan's knee.  Rowan slowly gives the contents of the shot glass 
to Gabby.  Then she waits to see what happens.
	Gegi rushes over. "Gabby? What happened?" She kneels beside her, 
and touches her hand.
	Gabby's eyes flicker open and settle curiously on Gegi, not quite 
in focus yet. "Synthea?" she asks softly.
	Gegi shakes her head. "I'm not the Synthea you think I am. I'm 
not the Georgina you think I am, either. Give me a chance." and then adds 
"Are you all right?"
	"Yeah... just fainted." She looks up at the people hovering over 
her. "I'm okay, really. Although staying down here might not be such a 
bad idea."
	Plots sits back, taking his jacket back and puts it back on. "So 
tell me..." He asks outloud to no-one in particular, "Does this happen 
whenever someone's banality is checked?"
	Gabby smiles. "Not usually." She looks back at Gegi. "You're not 
fae. And you're not ex-fae, either. Alternate reality?" 
	Gegi looks surprised that she suggested it so quickly. "That's 
right. And I don't know what she did to you... the Georgina you know... 
but it wasn't me." She pauses. "Can you tell me about it? What happened?"
	"Er, how about what just happened, first?" Plots asks tenitively. 
"Not that I wouldn't to know the other thing, but my curosity is still 
piqued from the first event."
	Gabby shrugs as best she can while lying down. "I was tired. I've 
been on edge since the trouble with Christine started. I finally just 
burned out. No big deal."
	"She collaspes and says it's no big deal..." Plots mutters and 
shakes his head.
	"It happens."
	"Often?" asks Gegi.
	"Sometimes."
	"How are you, healthwise, overall?" Gegi asks, concerned. "I know 
my Gabrielle had some problems..."
	Gabby's eyes flash angrily for a moment, then she carefully calms 
herself. "My health is not what it used to be. But I'd really rather not 
talk about it right now."
	"Fair enough." Plots nods. "Now knowing that, do you feel 
comfortable answering Gegi's question? I can vouch that it's been 
bothering her more than a little."
	"The one is related to the other..." Gabby starts, and then 
starts. (As in, a startled jump. Sorry. Couldn't resist.) "That backpack..."
	"Looks like Synthea's? Yes, except for - " she gestures to some 
symbols on a front pouch that look very much like all the other symbols, 
but Gabby nods, seeming to understand. "And the Penn tag, and this part - 
" she brushes a hand across some embroidered-like designs, "I painted 
over the colors myself. And
there's no dimensional portal inside it. Just a lot of my junk."

9
	Her eyes narrow. "I am -not- being a rock. I am -trying-."
	Plots' smile turns into a grin. "Okay then, prove it. *How* are 
you trying? You were just telling me not too long ago that you stuck in 
this rut, and that you never thought you would get out of it. So what's 
your plan?"
	The air around her picks up a mild prickly feel. Plots doesn't 
seem to notice, his grin settling into an innocent smile.
	She speaks slowly and clearly. "I go on with my life, doing the 
best I can, handling each problem as it arises. What -else- am I supposed 
to do?"
	"Start taking control of things. Become the director of events, 
instead of the victum. You adjust to each situation as it comes up, which 
is good. But do you act to direct any of these events, or do you prefer 
to just let them happen and take what comes?"
	"I do what I can, when I can."A half-full glass that someone has 
carelessly left sitting on the edge of a  nearby table topples, 
shattering and puddling brandy on the floor. Nothing comes near either 
Gegi or Plots, and the noise over the rest of the Pub is not 
considerable. Plots doesn't react. "How am I supposed to answer that? 
List every minute of my life and how active I'm being in it?" she asks 
angrily.
	"I'm not asking that. I'm asking how many times you've made an 
active strive towards one thing or another as opposed to going to 
wherever the flow leads. I like drifting along as much as the next guy, 
but if I didn't start to take some control over my life, I would have 
wound up dead long ago. Like you said,
handle each problem that arises. But *also* taking steps to avoid the 
problem entirely in the first place."
His voice remains conversant and nonchalant throughout.
	She seems to relax a little. "As I can see it, there are only two 
real ways to prevent the problem from coming up. Stay in complete 
isolation, where there can't be any emotional stimuli, and thus no 
over-reaction, or stay with people I'm -connected- to. Stuff comes 
through that's too much for my head to hold,
but if I'm linked in with other people, it can just... flow. Move 
through, move on, spread out, balance. -Balance.- If I'm hooked into 
other people, I can hold on to them, and stay... stable." She looks 
frustrated. "There aren't good words, they're not common concepts."
	Plots' voice is gentle as he answers. "No, they're not common 
concepts. But they're not *uncommon*, either. Remember that you're not 
alone. That's the first step. That you always have people to talk to."
	"'Always'?" she asks with a bitter half-smile. "It's just that 
I've been cut off a lot in the past year, and especially since getting to 
college. No one close by to hang on to. And sometimes words on a
screen aren't enough."
	"Are you an introvert, or an extrovert?" He asks her quietly, not 
wanting to pry.
	"Both. Seriously. We took the tests in my comparative religion 
class - don't ask - and I came out INFP, but absolute extreme on the last 
three, and just barely over the middle on the introvert/extrovert. I'm 
shy, quiet, withdrawn, total introvert... when it comes to -strangers-, 
especially groups of them. But around people I trust, or in situations 
where I feel comfortable being weird - on stage, at cons, whatever - I'm 
weird, wild, telling jokes, being silly, and generally friendly and more 
than willing to greet newbies. It's not such an unusual personality 
composition. It just gives me a nasty transition period."
	"Oh, I believe it. I never took one of those tests, but I know 
I'm almost the same way. My outgoing-ness shifts constantly, so one 
minute I'm talking non-stop, and the next I blend into the wallpaper." He 
smiles. "I had a hunch that's how you were, but wanted to make sure."
	She smiles. "Any other hunches about me?" The residual tension 
about her has faded.
	He grins. "Let's start at the beginning. Tell me about your mother."
	She makes a face. "Just as long as you don't get into cigar 
jokes. My mother. My mother married my father. Big mistake. Never should 
have broken up with Bill. Of course, Bill died just this year... I never 
met him, but he always sounded like a really nice guy, even if she wasn't 
head-over-heels for him." She laughs. "Mom and Dad's first date was to a 
wife-swapping party, by accident. Perhaps she should have seen a sign there?"
	Plots blinks. "Oh, well...that certainly is an interesting start. 
Okay, let's see...did you, or do you still, harbor any ill feelings 
towards your parents?"
	"What, you didn't notice just a slight bit of ill-will towards at 
least one half of my genetic background in there?"
	Plots grins. "I'm trying to shoot for vague here. Work with me."
	"Mother's fine now that I don't have to live with her. Father I 
could gladly live without hearing from again." She smiles wickedly.
	"Did you ever think that you were never in control of your life?"
	She shrugs. "I've never been directly in control of my life... 
but I'm a manipulative little thing."
	"Okay. So now we ask the musical question: Why have you never 
been in direct control of your life?"
	"Because I'm passive-aggressive and choose to sit back and pull 
strings and not -look- like it's my fault. That's not news to me."

10
	Gabby collapses in a faint. Chloe looks back and forth between 
Gabby and Gegi once again. "I don't suppose I should be giving her any of 
this?" she askes Gegi, holding up the vial.
	"To a -changeling-? Are you..." she suddenly remembers her 
manners and clamps off what she was about to say. "No. Not a good idea." 
and rushes over to Gabby.
	"Oh.. um.  Ok, I don't really know the rules about giving the 
stuff out anyway.. but I was just trying to be helpful, she looks a 
little.. pale."
	As Gegi runs off, not listening to Chloe, the dark-haired woman 
who just appeared blurs, and fractures into another timeline. This one 
approaches Chloe, keeping her eyes closed. She does nothing threatening 
as she nears, but then lifts her right hand, keeping her fingers curled 
over her palm, and reaches under to raise up Chloe's chin so that the 
shorter girl is looking directly into her face. Her eyes are closed, her 
expression is blank.
	Chloe goes _very_ still.  Her baby blue eyes widen considerably 
and she swallows hard.
"I--I was -just," she stammers, but stops.
	The woman's eyes fly open. They are completely black, no whites 
at all.
	Chloe shudders, still looking directly at the woman.  "M-- miss," 
her voice trembles a bit.  "D-Do I know know you?"
	She stares at Chloe. A moment passes. Then her eyes snap closed 
again. Chloe blinks a few times. "My poor child," she says with a smile. 
Her voice is a beautiful alto. "My little one, we thought we'd lost 
you... and so brave, this must all have been so hard on you..." The dark 
woman leans forward and kisses Chloe gently on the forehead. At the same 
time, she slips a quartz crystal into Chloe's hand.
	A voice whispers into Chloe's mind... <* I can't take you from 
here, little one. Too many eyes watching. But I will come for you. And if 
you ever need my help, just use the crystal to call me. And be careful! 
This place is filled with monsters who will destroy you if they get the 
chance... *>
	She lets go of her and steps back with a smile.
	A blond stranger wearing a cross suddenly steps between them. The 
cross he wears begins to flicker with a blue light.  "Get away from her, 
now!"  His voice is commanding, like a crack of thunder.
	The dark woman steps back, then vanishes with a twist of 
Correspondence. Chloe's eyes fix at a point above the floor. She gasps, 
hand flying to her mouth, then makes a muffled squeak of a scream. "You 
didn't have to hit her!"
	The stranger looks at her warily. "I did not."
	"But you did!" She takes a handkerchief from her pocket and wipes 
it across the clean floor, then waves it in his face. "Tell me that this 
isn't her blood, then!"
	He looks at her solemnly. "I think there is some understanding, 
miss." He offers her his hand.
	Even frightened and angry, Chloe remembers her manners, and 
starts to give him her hand, then suddenly squeaks again and snatches it 
back.

11
	"I'm just a touchy-feely type," Gegi laughs to Plots. "I need people."
	Plots grins. "My mother always tells me that was biggest problem 
as a kid, was that I was always touching everything. My report cards from 
elementary always listed that as a major problem." He shrugs. "I 
eventually managed to clamp down on it, but only to the point where I 
couldn't touch anyone at all. Nowadays, I consider it an honor when my 
friends, particually those who are female, hit me."
	She raises her eyebrows.
	He blushes. "What's even more weird is that they seem to like it 
even more than me. Not that I'm into S&M or anything, I mean. That is, 
I've never tried--or wanted to, or..." His face gets redder. She laughs 
out loud.  "Oh, forget it. It's weird, but I consider them a true friend 
when they hit me, and we'll leave it at that."
	She daringly reaches up and pats him on the head. "Yes, dear. 
Whatever you say."
	Plots tries to clear his throat, and waits a moment for the blush 
to recede, trying to regain his thoughtful expression.
	<tabula rasa> begins describing the plot to take down Autocthonia 
to Plots. "The local paradigm might be actively hostile to mages, but if 
we could slip you in as a sleeper they might not notice you right away, 
and you could take the virus in with you..."
	"Yeah well if that DEI doesn't clear, whatever it is, I'll be a 
real DOA. You make it sound rather simple..." His voice is trying to 
sound convicing, but his eyes signal that he's seriously considering it. 
"Are you sure that there are any Sleepers there at all? I mean, would I 
stick out because I'm not an ItXer?"
	"NO." Gegi says, turning on him. Plots blinks in surprise. 
"You're not going, don't even think about it." She lifts her nice 
metal-snake-headed cane meaningfully. "I'll knock you out myself first."
	He chuckles a bit. "I never I was going to go, just asking about 
what the chances of them noticing a Sleeper would be." He starts to look 
a bit defensive. "Besides, assuming he's correct, I could actually be of 
use for a change. Do something. Maybe get some revenge on those who 
screwed my life up so bad in the first place." The look in his eyes is 
getting more determined with each word.
	"You're talking about wandering into the stronghold, -the- 
stronghold, of an entire sect of mages who are -not- friendly, and are 
pretty damn powerful. They'll lay hold of you the second you touch down 
and have you inside, on the operating table, and -gone- before you even 
know what hit you. Kamikaze
mentality ain't healthy, specially if you don't even know how big a boom 
you can make, and when they'll be able to make a weapon out of what's 
left of you. You're -not- going. Find another way." She's got that 
death-before-surrender look in her eyes.
	"Thank you for the concern, but I *have* been inside of Techocrat 
HQ's before, you know, and escaped." He fails to mention that it was 
because he was captured, and he only escaped due to a breakout from a 
Mage, who may have died in the process. "Moreover, here's an instance 
where the one thing I have, my mudaneness, can actually be of use. You 
know, I may not have the fighting abilities of a Garou, or the 
manipulation powers of a Vampire, or the reality-altering powers of a 
Mage, or even a trace of psi powers, but that doesn't mean I can't try to 
make this world a better place. Just because I'm a Sleeper shouldn't mean 
that I need to be coddled and protected and placed in a kennel when 
others shape the same world *I* live on without any say in the matter 
from me." His expression states clearly that if decides to go, he *will*.
	"I'm not saying this because you're a Sleeper. You'll notice I 
gave Garrett a similar warning when he walked in, and he's far from 
powerless... I'd stop -them- if I could. It's just that there are more of 
them than me and they can fairly easily get past me. And they have no 
reason to listen to me." 
	"And I--" he starts, but cuts off. "Fine, give me a warning. But 
you made a demand, not a warning, to me."
	"I... I was just trying to make a joke out of it... But don't you 
see that this is just like when I got into the cult? Do you want to come 
out with a demon in your head? If they go through with this, they're all 
going to -die-, or -worse-. Excuse me if I'd rather not have my friends 
in that party." And her expressionshifts from stubbornness to fear.
	Plots shifts his stance. "Okay, I can see your point. And I'm not 
arguing that it's not dangerous. What am I saying is that, first off, I 
haven't made any promises to anyone about this. Second, you're
welcome to voice your concerns, but utimately *I* have to decide." 
	"I..."
	He sighs and looks at her. "Here's another way to look at it: 
When you go off to save the world, probably by facing demons and fire and 
other non-friendly substances, could I convince *you* not to go because 
it's dangerous?"
	"I'm not going to get ki-"
	Suddenly a man's voice echoes through the Pub. "She says we 
should have killed her when we had the chance." The sound seems to come 
from the direction of the mysterious dark woman. 
	Plots looks around, trying to find the source of the sound. 
"Elfboy?" he calls cheerily. "Here at last?"
	"Jay..." Gegi goes very pale and steps away from Plots. "Oh, 
shit," she whispers.
	His voice trails off at seeing her expression. "What's wrong?"
	"I'm dead," she says, eerie calm overriding panic. "Dead, or 
damned. Or both. There's no way out." She stares blankly past him. "Maybe 
in your world I could have been saved, but someone on my side has 
different ideas..."

12
	"Mother's fine now that I don't have to live with her. Father I 
could gladly live without hearing from again." She smiles wickedly.
	"Absence makes the heart grow fonder." He nods. "If you don't 
mind me asking, is the father you refer to your actual dad, or a stepdad? 
I thought you said something along the lines that you didn't know your 
original dad."
	"Oh. No. Real father. Bill was my mother's first fiance. She left 
him for my father... I don't know why. They married, I was born on their 
first anniversary, they managed about thirteen years together..." She 
pauses. "You know, I'm not even sure anymore exactly when he left. Oh well."
	"Well, if your Mom hadn't married your dad, then you wouldn't be 
around in the first place. Kinda ironic, huh?"
	She rolls her eyes. "And if anything had happened differently in 
my life, -I- wouldn't be around, just someone who was a lot like me. Not 
the point."
	"True, but I like to consider all angles. One more question: Did 
you ever face up to your parents, or was the extent of your defience why 
you tried to run away."
	"Run away?" She looks confused. "Oh. That was avoidance, not 
defiance... or something. That was long ago. As for facing up to them - " 
she grimaces. "I had this really irritating tendency to start crying... 
the kind that distorts your speech... whenever I wanted to calmly explain 
a point to an adult. Neatly counterpunching my own argument. It's hard to 
take someone seriously who's crying too hard to see straight. So mostly I 
just ignore them."
	"Okay. Then maybe we've actually narrowed the field down, as to 
why you tend to break under what most consider "light" stimuli. It's 
possible that deep inside, you're tired of using ignoring and 
manipulating as ways of controling your life, so it tells you to resort 
to much more blunt methods,
like spazing."
	She sighs. "That's what I'm afraid of. That it really is me doing 
it, and not any mental imbalance. Too many people in my head. The one 
that goes crazy when the breakdown hits, the one that guides that one to 
a safe place so she won't get hurt too badly, and possibly the one who 
pushed the first off the cliff in
the first place. And I don't know how to handle that." Then she laughs. 
"What, having a mental collapse in public isn't manipulative?"
	"Okay. So now we ask the musical question: Why have you never 
been in direct control of your life?"
	"Because I'm passive-aggressive and choose to sit back and pull 
strings and not -look- like it's my fault. That's not news to me."
	Plots frowns. "But then you're contradicting yourself. Pulling 
strings is a form of direct control over your life, which you say you 
don't have."
	"No, it's indirect control. Ties in to me not having a job, or 
transportation, and things like that... have to twist other people's arms 
to get things, and have other people to blame when things go wrong." Her 
tone is casual, but her body language shows mild discomfort.
	Plots shakes his head. "It's direct control. What else it is, is 
a defensive system, allowing you to gather the benefits of being in 
obvious control, while affording the luxury of claiming innocence when 
responsibilities crop up. Unfortunately, it doesn't work. If you're 
actually pulling strings to get people to do things for you, like drive 
you somewhere or pick up the tab, then you're doing direct control. Trust 
me, I've freeloaded enough in my younger years, and still do occassionally."
	"Younger years? How old are you?"
	"Twenty-two. I used to borrow everything from my friends, to the 
point that I sometimes was only friends with them because of the neat 
stuff they'd loan me. I've almost gotten over it completely, except for 
computers, but I'm working on that."
	She finally manages to raise only one eyebrow. "Well, I never had 
-that- problem. I may have borrowed a few things from friends, and known 
who I could depend on to drive me or buy me food, but they were friends 
first... hey, friends are hard to come by. For me, certainly."
	"Anyway, my point is that in considerable experience of 
freeloading, I always was pulling strings and trying to manipulate 
people, and I know that the only way that it *wouldn't* be direct control 
over my life, is if it was on a complete stranger. Otherwise, I'd plan on 
how my "friend" would react, and take it into account. Only when I didn't 
know how to plan for that could it be considered indirect control."
	"I do it subconsciously so much that it's hard to say what I'm 
planning... too many me's in here."
	"Which then begs the question: Do you accept the responsiblities 
of your manipulations?"
	"How do you mean? Recognize that it's all my fault?" She laughs.

13
	The strange dark woman leaves Chloe and walks over to Gegi. She 
briefly drops to one knee before her. Gegi gasps. "We are all depending 
on you," the woman says. 
	Garret, who has been watching them, looks alarmed. He takes a 
step forward, then stops. Her eyes still closed, she rises and moves to 
stand before Garrett. He steps back again. "We know our own," she says, 
and raises her left hand, uncurling her fingers and presenting her 
scarred palm to him. A symbol of the Nephandi is burned into her left 
hand. 
	Garret flinches as though she's hit him. His face registers a 
momentary flash of panic. "No...
	"Take care of my children," she says, and vanishes.
	He stands quite still, looking at the space she occupied.  "I am 
*not* Fallen," he whispers, "I had a *choice*..."
	Quietly, not moving, Gegi asks, "Who was that?"
	He doesn't answer right away.  When he does lift his eyes from 
the spot where the Black Lady departed, he locks them onto Gegi's.  It's 
painfully obvious that he's both afraid and angry, and trying to cover up 
both. "You tell me." he says quietly.
	Gegi pales a bit more, her hands trembling. "I've never seen her 
before, I don't know who she is... or who sent her..." She opens her 
mouth as if about to ask a question, then hurriedly closes it,
the fear in her eyes growing.
	Garret narrows his eyes at her, and reaches into his pocket, 
pulling out a sliver of bone.
	"You swear to me, " he says, his voice deathly calm," That you 
don't know who or what she is, or why she's here?"
	"I don't know who or what she is, I don't know why she was here. 
I don't know what she did."
	He continues to burn holes in her with his eye for a minute 
longer, then slips the bone back into his pocket.
	Then we need to find out."
	She relaxes a bit as he doesn't seem to be angry with her... "How?"
	Chloe walks slowly to Garret, her eyes not straying from him.  
She wraps her arms tightly around one of his.  Looking up at him with 
pleading, very hard to resist baby blue eyes, she whispers, "I want to
stay here with you.. please, sir.."
	His look is the black of an endless pit.  "I know.  But now my 
strand is tied, and none of us may have any choice.  I don't have the 
power to change what is, not now.  We need help I'm not qualified to 
give." He puts the heel of his hand against his forehead.  "I'm starting 
to remember things...things that I'd rather not remember.  I don't know 
how much time we have."
	Gegi looks at her. "Chloe? Are you all right? What was that all about?"
	Chloe smiles serenely at Gegi.  "What was what all about?  My 
eyes were stinging for a moment, but, well I think I'm all right, for now.."
	"That woman. Who was she? What did she say to you?"
	Garret shakes his head.  "I feel like I'm dancing in a pitch-dark 
room full of bottomless pits...and the strange thing is, I know I've been 
there before..."
	"It does seem a bit darker in here.." Chloe looks around, 
worried.  "Are they after you, as well?"
	"Who's after you?" asks Gegi.
	"All of them, don't you see how they look at me?  She said they 
were going to kill me, she did.."
	"We're not going to let anyone hurt you," Gegi says firmly, 
catching Garret's eye. "Now what -exactly- did she do and say to you?"

14
	Gegi is tossing rhymes around with Mauritz.
	"Especially when the prophet lives in your head"
	"And drags you down the path you fear to tread."
	"His blazing eyes like stars aflame"
	"Stare at me and sense my shame."
	"A hidden fear that festers deep"
	"A secret that I die to keep."
	"A friendship from mist-shrouded times"
	"That now has fled to gentler climes."
	"And leaves behind a sharp regret"
	"For I can never pay my debt."
	They discuss religion and immortality. "But what is it, then? The 
soul, if such a thing exists, must perforce be immaterial, if it is to 
withstand the ravages of time... all material things wither or wear, 
non?" he asks.
	"Oui. Immaterial, outside the material. Beyond. Where there is no 
time nor space. No dimension."
	"Such would be true eternal existence, and yet... with no time to 
reference, it would be a most dull existence indeed."
	"Which is why entropy is, and this plane is. To play."
	Mauritz grins, and produces a pen and a small notepad. On the 
paper he draws nine dots, like so...

   *    *    * 
   *    *    *  
   *    *    *

	... and hands the pen to Gegi. "Can you draw four straight lines 
that connect all of the dots - without lifting the pen from the paper?"
	She laughs and quickly does so.
	"Very good... you know when to step outside the boundaries. Why 
can you not apply that talent to your current dilemma?"
	She pauses. There is a tiny prickle in the air around her. At 
this point, the Dark Lady enters the Pub. Gegi says nothing, and stares 
distractedly.
	Mauritz smiles wryly (or perhaps ryely, given his next words): 
"The Cosmic Baker made us all, but unfortunately some little bits of 
previous attempts remained to gum up the works. And some were taken from 
the oven too soon..."
	"Everything is as it is."
	"But not as it should be."
	"But it couldn't be, or we wouldn't be."
	"It could be. But then, true, we wouldn't be. And being is half 
the battle."
	"Don't use spray paint in a closed garage."
	They speak of her dreaming. "Inspirations from the Infinite or 
perceptions of the folk around me, it makes little difference, really. We 
act on what we perceive. Everything can be manipulated. We do our best." 
Her eyes fall on Chloe.
	"It makes a great deal of difference, child. As you said, we act 
upon what we perceive; does that not show that we should strive to be as 
clear in our perceptions as possible? If you state 'It does not matter 
that my perceptions are manipulated', then you would not object to 
stepping off a cliff masked by illusion. No, one must seek to eliminate 
that which befuddles the senses - unless done recreationally, of course." 
And his eyes come to rest on Ophelia, before moving to follow Gegi's gaze.
	"Reality is befuddlement, and we are always walking off cliffs."
	He murmurs an aside. "Is the French lass in some sort of trouble?"
	"Who?"
	"Mademoiselle Chloe... is there some problem? There is a cloud 
hovering above her head..."
	"Chloe? I don't know. She was running from something, or someone..."
	And here the Dark Lady moves to her encounter with the 
aforementioned Chloe.	
	Mauritz looks intently at Gegi, as if he were considering going 
back on his word not to meddle with her mind. 
	The dark woman crosses, kneels before Gegi, and tells her that 
all are counting on her.
	But finally he decides against that course of action, settling 
for conversation. "What was that about? Is there some connection between 
this mysterious woman and you?"
	Gegi's eyes are wide, and nervousness very evident in her 
posture... but not so much in her aura. "I don't know..."

15
	"I'm dead," she says, eerie calm overriding panic. "Dead, or 
damned. Or both. There's no way out." She stares blankly past him. "Maybe 
in your world I could have been saved, but someone on my side has 
different ideas..."
	"Oh really?" Plots openly frowns. "And where did this sudden 
insight come from?"
	She doesn't seem to hear him, and the panic is picking up again. 
"They keep coming after me, and they won't -stop-, no matter what I do, I 
can't make them go away... and he won't -let- me try to protect myself 
from them, he -wants- them to find me... and either the man knew 
everything and I'm doomed and there's no way to change the fates, or it's 
all a lie, everything is a lie, everything Enedel ever said was a lie, 
and he's a demon himself... he tried to get me to sell my soul, or kill 
the others, said it was the only way for me to find power, and I can't, 
can't, can't go back... I'm on the list..." 
	"What list?" Plots steps back to her. "Gegi, calm down. You're 
not making too much sense here." His expression is clearly worried. 
"Didn't we cover this already? You're not going to kill anyone!"
	"I can't even kill -myself-! I can't do -anything-! They're going 
to take me and the only choice is whether or not I go willingly and 
whatever I do it's what he wants me to, whether I fight them and get 
eaten by them or whether I join them and die by the spear, it's what -he- 
wants, what he controls, everything I've been... I'm on the list, and my 
death will be part of what it takes to save the world, so I should be 
happy about it, right? Right?" 
	She shakes her head, and then her whole body twitches. "It's not 
that I will, it's that I -have-! I -am-! The demons are everywhere and 
I'm one of them... it's not my choice that matters, no one gives a shit 
to what I choose, I'm being used, I've been set up... he's taken my whole 
life and twisted it and built me into what I am... unwitting opener of 
forbidden doors, I'm on the list and I can't get away... and it doesn't 
matter whether he feeds me to them or whether I join them, I lose either 
way, I have to kill them before they kill me, and I'm dead or I'm 
damned... and it doesn't even -matter-!" 
	Plots takes a deep breath. "Gegi, you're not -"
	She begins coughing, then, a rather nasty cough with lots of 
rattling phlegm and spasms that leave her gasping for air, finally 
sinking into a nearby chair, rocking back and forth, her eyes crazed.
	Plots steps to her, grasping her by the shoulders. His grip is 
solid, but not hurting. "Calm down..." He speaks very softly, kneeing 
down to look her in the eyes. "Relax, Gegi. You're safe here. No one's 
going to harm you or hurt you or anything. Calm down. Relax." His voice 
is soothing, and confident.
	She looks at him... and starts laughing, covering a wide range of 
maniacal  sounds... finally running out of air to make noise, but her 
body continues to shake. Her eyes go wide and her back arches. It's 
apparent that she cannot breathe...