Chương 116: Act 2, Chapter 68: The Freethinker and the Tinkerer

19th December (Friday), past three in the morning"You took your time, man," I said as the world settled around us. First thing I did was cut the links. Every single card still left behind in the fortress, one after another, severed clean. Then I called Liora back to me. When the connection settled, I finally took a breath and tried to gauge my own state. My soul felt wrung dry, stretched thin. Whatever I had left was little more than fumes.

"I wanted to make sure everything essential came with me," Victor said, scanning the room like a curious animal. The moment he straightened to full height, his insectoid frame unfurled to near the ceiling. Limbs long and jointed in unnatural ways.

"Where are we?"

"Close to Solitary Twin," I replied.

"I'll need to find you a place to stay, but not sure where yet."

"This place is lived in?"

"Not that I know of. I've used it before, sometimes for hours. No one's come here." He started pacing, testing the furniture, peering through the window, checking the tiny toilet and side room like a tenant appraising a new home.

"A bit small," he muttered, half to himself.

"Maybe the next room is empty as well. I could stretch the space a little. Could be good."

"Stretch the space?" I asked.

"Yes," he said absently, flexing the strange joints of his fingers.

"Space is fairly malleable if you have proper Authority." His tone dimmed as his gaze fell to his hands.

"I forgot. I lost my tools. So much work undone."

"You can use other mages' Authority?" He sighed, long and low.

"Yes, if you have it stored within crystal. With pure shadowlight and the right soulmark, you can do almost anything another mage can, if you understand the structure."

"Pure shadowlight?" I pressed, curiosity cutting through exhaustion. He looked up then, his strange eyes softening in something almost like amusement.

"You're a curious one, for a battle mage."

"I'm not a battle mage."

"No?" His mouth quirked faintly.

"You just extracted me from an Edge's fortress, under Brawn's protection, and lived to tell it. He's a capable battle mage by any standard." Maybe he was. Or maybe I'd just been lucky. Either way, the idea of facing him again made me uneasy.

"A fluke," I said.

"Really?" His gaze narrowed, faintly amused as he lowered himself onto the couch beside the heavy box. His long legs stretched almost the full length of the small room.

"If you say so." He rested one clawed hand on the box, thoughtful again.

"Pure shadowlight," he continued, "is shadowlight stripped of all Authority. It doesn't occur in nature. It has to be made. Refined. It's… potential in its purest state. A void that can become anything." I sank into the opposite chair, watching the faint gleam of light flicker across his semi-chitinous skin.

"I have one of your tools in my possession," I said, thinking of the glove.

"I'm willing to trade, if you can make something for me."

"You took something from me and now want me to build you something to earn it back?" His tone was half amusement, half accusation.

"That's not a trade, that's thievery." I crossed my arms, unbothered. Silence worked better than arguing. He sighed after a minute.

"What do you have?"

"A glove that was linked to optic fibers carrying shadowlight. I found it when I surveyed your workshop." He sprang to his feet, then dropped into a crouch, his face level with mine.

"I need it."

"I thought you might. It looked important."

"It is! It lets me channel Authority properly. With simple gestures and clean precision. What do you want for it?"

"I'm not sure yet. Something that would let me paint quickly, anywhere. Small, portable. With paints that are easy to replace, or better, made out of my shadowlight." He tilted his head.

"What are you using now?"

"Spray paint cans."

"So your paintings carry your Authority. Interesting power."

"Don't get sidetracked. Can you make it or not?"

"I could make something that channels your shadowlight into semi‑permanent traces."

"I'd be able to paint with light?" He nodded.

"It would stay caught in the motion for a few hours, then fade. You could paint wherever you want even in the air."

"What?"

"I built something similar once, to stabilize shadowlight. It wasn't hard, but it was… large. Making it compact will be trickier. Especially without my tools." I shot him a sidelong glance.

"You want the glove now, don't you?" He grinned, showing both teeth and the edge of mandibles hidden in the mouth.

"Take it as a sign of good will," I said.

"The start of proper cooperation. I'll bring it to you, but I want something in return, a way for you to reach me when it's ready."

"Can't you just come here?"

"How do I know you'll stay? Or that the Shattered will let you?"

"If they want my help, they'll have to make concessions. And I don't plan on running away from you. I might still need that teleportation Authority of yours to finish my work." He leaned back, tapping a finger against the box by his feet.

"Give me whatever you want. But I'll stay here as it's close enough to those glass‑born bastards, but not quite on their turf, from what I can see."

"No," I said, "not on their turf. But I'll have to show them I brought you here."

"Show them, then. I don't care."

"Fine." He looked at me for a long second. I added, "The card I gave you before? Keep it close. Don't lose it, don't destroy it. I'll speak with Joan, and I'll bring your glove when I can."

"The sooner, the better," he replied, but I knew this project would take time regardless.

"How much time do you need for this?"

"Any measure would be a guess—today, tomorrow or maybe even in a month. I need tools, workspace, materials, and a design. I'd rather not lie and deal with the consequences later."

"I thought so, but wanted to be sure. I'll get back to you soon." After having said that—taking Liora with me—I teleported straight into my Domain. The moment we arrived, I used a Usagear send-off and dropped into bed. I needed to sleep off that chaotic fight before doing anything else.

I felt much better after waking. I made a quick stop at the apartment, showered, handled all the bodily necessities, then began rummaging through my room for an old project. I dug through a box stuffed with bent canvases, models of hands, plastic eyes, and stranger things still. At the very bottom—because of course it had to be there—I found what I was looking for: a model of a human brain. I'd made it for a sculpting exam long ago, one that was supposed to represent thought.

It was life-sized, mounted on a fragment of spine fixed into a wooden pedestal. Across the surface of the brain, I'd once sprayed a riot of colorful words. Snippets of inner monologue mapped to different regions: I'm hungry, run, time to bang, and countless others. I lifted it carefully and teleported back to my Domain. Setting it on my desk, I started reworking its look. First, I sprayed the whole thing in gray, blanketing the graffiti beneath.

Then came a dark pink base layer, thick in places, thin in others, letting hints of gray bleed through. Finally, I traced proper curves with light pink and white, blending them to create highlights and a sense of living texture. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. At the base, on the wooden pedestal, I wrote Alexa May in looping, careful letters, so it would know who it belonged to.

When it was finished, I set the paints aside, took a slow breath, laid my hand upon it, and whispered in thought: Be my second brain. It was a strange sensation to wake up feeling both disconnected from my body and deeply tied to it at the same time. Yet here I was, looking at myself through eyes that weren't mine, but my twin's. It was a life-changing experience: feeling another set of thoughts stirring somewhere at the edge of awareness, yet so close to home. My second brain was alive.

It was thinking, its thoughts separate from my own, but not alien. It didn't make me any smarter; I still had only what I already possessed. But it gave me something new—focus. I could split my attention cleanly now, hold two threads at once. I need a task for myself, badly, I thought. Or perhaps we thought. Otherwise, this will get boring pretty fast. I started pondering what the second brain could be used for, ideas bouncing between the two of us like a pair of mirrors facing one another.

Anansi managed my magical senses and abilities; my ordinary self handled the day-to-day. But what I lacked was space, time and clarity to think about all that had happened. The strange encounters, the impossible abilities, the world that kept unfolding in layers of shadow and light. Living constantly on the edge left little room for reflection. And as Nat told me, some mages could twist you through nothing more than a name or a phone call. Which meant others could probably manipulate different aspects.

Like Nature, in the case of Joan. Human nature. Exactly that. The realization felt like an electric current between us. My additional brain would guard me from such influence. If anything or anyone tried to manipulate my thoughts, it would notice the disturbance and alert me. And beyond that, it would quietly sift through my memories, mapping the patterns, weaving plans to deal with the threats I kept stumbling into.

Satisfied, I lifted the model gently and placed it inside my bedroom's trophy case, beside the necklace and the sphere that carried the soulmark of Monument.

Joan once again stood by the window when I arrived at Jason's place. As before, my painted eyes, those marked with a fine crack through their centers, symbol of the Shattered, revealed their true form, the one hidden beneath what the world was allowed to see. I wondered whether those eyes could pierce all illusions, or only the ones cast by the Shattered themselves. I came closer to the window, standing beside Joan to look outside as well.

They began to influence my mood the moment I made my presence known, sifting through the traits that made up my nature, searching for the ones that would make me obedient, compliant to the gravity of their authority. But this time, another stream of thought flowed alongside theirs. Detached and ever aware. Sneaky bastards.

"Nice to see you, Alexa," Joan said, turning slightly.

"We were wondering if you'd show up tonight." I decided to let my affected brain make the decisions for now, unless things turned sharply against me. If they did, my second thoughts-strand would intervene and take the driving seat. For the moment, I wanted Joan to feel in control again.

"I wanted to deal with this task as soon as possible," I replied, voice even, "within the time I've allocated for my Ideworld life."

"You have a time slot for that?"

"Yes. I had to reorganize my life better, to keep everything in check." I turned slightly, meeting their curious eyes.

"It's not your concern, though. I got Victor out and set EoT's operation in the area back. By how much—hard to tell." Joan's expression sharpened.

"What did you do?"

"I burned their little fort to the ground, stole their chief engineer, as far as I can tell. And probably humiliated one of their leaders. Not sure about that last part."

"We didn't ask for any of that, beside the engineer of course," they said, though there was a faint smile at the corner of their mouth.

"Having Victor alive is good news. Unreflected reached his workshop already thrashed; it was difficult to salvage any clue about where they took him. How did you find out?" I felt their will brushing against my nature again, rearranging it like fingers through sand. My thoughts tilted toward the reflections, the eyes, the brilliance of my own design. They wanted me to boast. They fed the spark of narcissism, of pride. But my other mind interfered, offered a calmer, duller path.

"I thought that I told you already," I said.

"I met some Shadows near Victor's house. They pointed me toward the park. I could smell the blood trail from Bohr's workshop leading there. No idea how they got him through the Shadows that dwell in that forest, though. The ghosts of the native tribes were… problematic."

"Maybe they just moved him during the day," Joan suggested.

"Most aggressive monsters avoid sunlight." My shoulders sagged slightly. Of course. That simple. Shadow Sophie had mentioned something similar. That Ideworld was not nearly as dangerous during the day as people from Earth believed.

"I let Victor stay near the Solitary Twin for now. Do you want to meet with him, just to confirm he's well?"

"Instruct him to meet with Edward at the entrance," Joan replied.

"Let them talk about what happened. I'll reward you when I'm back home, after my task here is done."

"Can't you order anyone else to play Jason?" I asked.

"We don't want to share his memories with more people than necessary," they said, but something in their tone told me that wasn't the reason.

"How long will he stay in this… transformation period?" I asked carefully, weighing every word. Again, I was notified of their touch. Soft, almost tender but all the same, pressing into the folds of my nature. They nudged me toward greed, toward curiosity, toward anticipation of the reward, away from the question itself.

"Not long," Joan said, their voice steady.

"Patience, Alexa. There's nothing I can do to make it quicker." I decided to play along. With a twist.

"Okay, okay," I said lightly.

"You know me. Always curious. I just wonder what you've prepared for me. Maybe a shadowed version of some famous art piece?" I faked a laugh.

"Oh, wait," I added, pretending sudden realization, "speaking of shadows… what happens to Jason's? He's not a mage, not a reclaimer. Will his shadow stay in Ideworld after you change him?" A ripple of irritation. Their shoulders shifted—a movement too sharp, too human—and they tried to cover it up, smoothing it over with another wave of influence, dulling my curiosity again. Got you.

"Jason's shadow will disappear soon after the transformation is complete. An unfortunate side effect of the process." Joan lied to me. They cared too much about the image they wove for themselves. The benevolent guide, the composed ascetic. I wondered how much of what I was meant to learn about Ideworld would come pre-curated, polished before it ever reached me.

"You ever wonder what your own shadow was like?" I asked.

"If it was whole in the places you weren't?" A gentle strike veiled as idle curiosity and it landed. They almost grimaced, both Jason's and Joan's faces twitching in a ripple of shared micro-expressions.

"Sometimes," they said after a pause.

"Purely academic, though. We'll never know."

"Me neither." I sighed.

"Some people live their whole lives never knowing their other side. At least we know there was someone else."

"Yes. You may have a fresher perspective on that than I do."

"You wanted to know yourself?"

"Of course. We still do. But my shadow was only a fragment, a projection."

"Are they really just that? I've watched them. They feel like more."

"That's an illusion the gods let you see," Joan said.

"They show you what you need to see. Don't put too much faith in them. It's all a farce."

"You don't think that about your own god, though."

"Ours is the true one," they replied evenly.

"The one who wants us whole, when we are not. That's the ultimate sin of the world—it was made fractured." What a zealot, I thought. Every other god false but theirs.

"Can you tell me about the Solitary Twin? How can a building be a god? It wasn't even there twenty years ago."

"We like talking with you, Alexa," Joan said.

"Your perspective is... refreshing. But that topic is not one we're at liberty to discuss."

"Secrets of the gods?"

"Yes."

"Alright. I won't pry." I leaned slightly forward.

"Just one more question about Jason's shadow." They minded, I could feel it, taut and cold under their skin, but they nodded anyway.

"Do you think I could meet his shadow? Find it? Talk to him before it disappears?" A quiet tension passed between us. They tried to dull my interest, to make the subject fade from relevance. I noticed my primary mind start to drift, ready to step back into my Domain but my other one stayed alert, watching, waiting for their answer.

"We think that's not possible to do in such a short time frame. It would be a waste of your time." I had a choice to make now. I could, and maybe should, let it go. Disappear as they wanted me to. But the urge to stir the ant nest itched under my skin. I wanted to tell them that I had a way of finding shadows, of seeing exactly where they were hiding. Would that gain me anything? Or only strip away what little advantage I had left?

"I see," I said at last.

"Let me know when you're ready with my reward or another task. I'll lead Victor to your son so they can have their chat. I guess I'll see you later at movie night?"

"We actually can't wait for that," they replied, and I left. Back in Victor's new place, the air hit me with a smell of dust and open wind. Every window was thrown wide, and he stood in the middle of it all, tossing the last of the furniture out one by one. What had been an apartment now looked like a worksite stripped bare. He'd left only a few pieces: a table, a desk dragged in from another room, a computer, and a couch that looked too small for him.

"I see you're a fan of the minimalist approach to living," I said.

"I don't wear many clothes," he answered dryly.

"No kidding, man. Listen—we're supposed to head out. Front door, World Trade, meet with Edward."

"Sure. I'll need a few things from him anyway." Anansi, I thought. Tell Lio to grab the glove now.

"That's between you two. Man, I've got a question that's been bothering me and no one seems to have an answer."

"Spill it," he said, shutting the last of the windows with a sharp click.

"Do you know anything about the gods here? How can the Solitary Twin, a building, be a god to creatures that have lived for centuries, when it's only existed for a few decades?"

"The building isn't the god," Victor said, brushing dust from his hands.

"It's the god's skin in this world. But it can choose another avatar if it wants to. This one just fits what it represents. It lets it stay here, unbothered."

"So it needs something that mirrors its values? Otherwise it can't stay in this world?"

"That's how I understand it."

"Could it exist in more than one place at a time?"

"Some gods can," he said.

"But I don't think this one would even want that. Despite all the Unreflected, fractured nonsense they talk about, this god takes those broken pieces because it wants to make them whole."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes. Eddy's my friend. One of the few real ones I've got. He wouldn't lie. A god like that wouldn't fracture itself. That'd go against its very core."

"It's all about division," I said softly.

"Being unwholly, uneven, unreflected. It implies there should always be more, like the Twin Towers becoming one. It's missing something." But it chose to become the one, solitary building, my second brain whispered. It could have chosen two. It makes the Unreflected because they are so whole, they cast no reflection. It takes the uneven, and forces them into symmetry. And I was probably right.

"Too philosophical for me," Victor muttered. [Liora is ready.] Anansi's voice brushed the inside of my mind, and I reached into the fold of space, pulling my cloud-snake through. Lio emerged, coils rippling in the air, Bohr's magical glove clasped delicately in his clawed paws. I took it from him, and he drifted behind me, resting his head on my shoulder. I extended the glove toward the tinkerer in front of me.

"Need a hand?" I asked. Victor turned, blinked once and then laughed, deep and warm, like the first roll of thunder before rain.