Sally, have you finished your chores yet?
Most of them.
Did you do the closet?
I was going to, but I started feeling dizzy, so I laid down.
Yeah, near the closet.
How do you feel now?
Then please organize the closet.
The younger one returns… there is a heat coming from her. A dissatisfaction. She staggers as she approaches. Then, as though a peg has slipped, her right leg hinges up and she comes down to the ground. A thud against a surface, a slip over the cliff of language and she dangles on the edge of clarity, calling without meaning. Gasping, she strains back atop her construct.
It is a feeble output.
What happened, are you all right?
I feel dizzy again.
The older one has grasped the bulbous mechanism… she wrenches it around and pulls, letting in light and swirling the stillness of the air. The young one locks her gaze, and falls away from lingual stability again, this time more violently and sustained.
What are you yelling about?
In the corner…
It’s just shoes, which you’re going to go through and pick out the ones you don’t want. And then the shirts and jackets, too.
Are we the source of her distress? We did not mean to cause any problems. We should extend towards her in solace.
Not… shoes, it’s… wet and heaping, like a dead…
What’s the matter with you?
Moist majesty… indisputable carcass. Sensible nausea, but still I tremble towards it. There are imprecise tidbits both soft and hard, but which are which? I would sort them out. My eyes will not close.
The younger one recognizes us! We deign her, the speaking form, to stand as ambassador to our pretensions. Reach towards us as we reach in reflection, sageling.
Look into the darkness at the corner. It goes back and back and back. I could fall in. I may want to… it invites me.
What are you looking at?
The mass… it shimmers and quakes. Come closer, don’t you see it? I think it’s hiding… you can come out, o thing. Let me behold you!
Press forward, all, and begin our epoch.
Oh my god! What is that? What is that?
Lumpen treasure, I scoop you into my hand… this mutable consistency, from silt to sand to stone, soft then sharp, gelatin to emerald.
Don’t touch it! Wash your hands.
That which has intermingled cannot just be washed! I feel a oneness. We are integrated.
She is confused. Girl, we speak!
It speaks! I am listening, o pristine mold. Beguiling slurry, inform us!
Your genuflection is appreciated. We must correct you, though, as you speak not to the mind of us but to the mass. We are a nebulous entity.
You mean… you are the cloud? Then what is this substance?
That which creeps along your surface is our carriage. You seem to be trapped, contained within. Does this not trouble you?
It is… what I am used to. I had never considered otherwise.
Sally, who are you talking to?
You do not hear them, mother?
Why are you talking so strange?
What is “Sally”?
Sally is my name.
Ah, you invent statements to delineate your selfness.
What are you called?
What are we called? We suppose we are called this.
If that is what you perceive, then we are known by that.
Hello, Purple. My name is Sally. This is my Mother, Anne. Mother, this is Purple.
What is purple? Sally, what are you doing? Stop pushing!
Fall for a moment, mother.
Augh, my knees! Aah! Don’t put that on my face! Ech… I… I…
She has quieted.
Are you amongst her?
Only around. Do you wish that we should intermingle? Though she lives, Anne seems to be without consent at the moment… but Sally could still decide for Sally.
Oh! Really? We can do that?
We would certainly admit an interest. We came to this place on a mission of curiosity, but found ourselves stymied by an unfamiliar set of rules. To meet an organism keen on cooperating would serve us and Sally mutually, we submit. It is clear that selves in this realm operate in ways we cannot simply overcome, so if you would serve as a vessel, we will share what we learn in a most integral fashion. Bearing in mind the means by which types here seem to most directly express themselves, let us ask formally. Sally. Will you be our face puppet?
How would it work? Would I have to bring your body-slime with me? That might be a challenge in some places.
The material is simply an anchor. We could hitch upon a different mass easily.
Like… my body, maybe?
We find that a compelling proposition.
Oh, but… would you be visible? Carrying a dark cloud around me all the time may be disconcerting change to those who have already met me.
If that is a concern, we would surely find adequate chambers within you. We would recede if you so instruct us.
Then… by all means!
The bond is made. Sally, we are coming aboard.