Right, let's just get into it I guess :) Sorry about double posting, I suspect it's only just over the word limit in full, but none of it seemed to be easy to cut :(
Mine: The reconnection in Stacey's head was more startling than the loss of connection when the door had closed. How...? she thought, feeling slightly dizzy. No, wait, that wasn't her feeling, that was Ana's. I followed you. I... let's say climbed the wall. I'm not hurt, but I might be having a heart attack. You climbed that wall with those spikes? Stacey couldn't keep the concern, or the belief that that was a deeply foolish thing to do out of her thoughts. Are you ok? Heart attack might be more accurate than I'd like. There was a hint of remorse. I'm going to sit down in this chair, it's by the door and facing it; I don't think you'll see me unless you come over.
Stacey refocused her attention on the Mayor. He'd been telling the truth: the side door lead straight into a very traditional library with wing-backed chairs, a chess-table, an open fire (ash in the fireplace, no logs) and wood-panelled walls. The shelves took up nearly half the room and were free-standing and reached to the ceiling. She and the Mayor were now three rows back, having passed books with names like Progeria and its diagnosis, Gerontology in the sub-continent, Neo-natal rituals in Tibet and Nepal and The New England Journal of Medicine. Here though the books were esoteric in a non-medical way: she was looking as the Mayor browsed past Frasier's Golden Bough, Von Daniken's Chariots of the Gods and Labdaris's Libro di pensieri catenati. There was no sign of Ayn Rand or Thomas Mann. "This one, I think," said the Mayor pleasantly. He pulled on the top of the spine of a book that didn't look much like a book to Stacey, and it tilted out a little before clicking and sliding back into place. At the far end of the shelves the wall swung open, revealing itself to be a door. "I'm not surprised," said Stacey. "I grew up watching Scooby-Doo, you know." The Mayor smiled. "I wouldn't be showing you this if you weren't Stacey MacBride," he said. "But Dr. MacDonald noted you down as one of the successes, and maybe you can help us both." He didn't wait for an answer but headed to the new door, and his hand reached to the left and turned on a light-switch. Beyond the door was a room with two steel tables set lengthwise across it, and a liquor cabinet behind them. On the tables were a cradle, neatly adorned with white linen, and a pair of birthing paddles. "What the...?" said Stacey, half under her breath. She followed him, too intrigued to be scared.
If there's a baby in that crib, we're in trouble. Ana had picked the image of the room straight out of Stacey's thoughts. Are you ok yet? Heart's still racing, and I may have pulled a muscle in my back. It'll be good to be ten years younger, I'm looking forward to that. The cradle was covered at the top by some transparent membrane that looked slightly oily. An iridescent sheen passed first one way, then the other as Stacey tilted her head. Inside it was something that looked like a steel egg. "That," said the Mayor, "is the thing that Dr. MacDonald used to create you and you twin. And all the other twins in Crimson Falls. There's a room in the hospital where it belongs." "There's a doorway in that room that doesn't have a wall around it," said Stacey. She stared at the egg, wondering how it connected to the doorway. "Sort of," said the Mayor. "That's the delivery room, actually. The room where the egg goes is locked and I check it every couple of weeks. You didn't get in there." "So what do you want to do?" "Reopen the hospital," said the Mayor. He smiled at her. "Dr. MacDonald said you were a success, and he left notes. We can follow them. We can have more twins. More people can get life-advice and guidance from someone who's practically part of themselves. Think of how much humanity will improve through this."
"You want to reopen the hospital?" Stacey asked, stunned. "You want to make more of... you think Ana and I were successes?"
"Of course!" The mayor looked bemused. "You and your twin are both successful, well adjusted folks. No abnormalities, physical or emotional. If I didn't know better I'd think you two weren't related at all!"
"You're a lunatic," Stacey said, backing away. In her head Ana was trying to tell her something but she was too overwhelmed to comprehend the message. "You think what And and I are is some sort of... ideal? You have no idea what our lives are like... what my life is like."
"So enlighten me, my dear. The more I know the better our results will be, surely."
"You seem like a man who enjoys his privacy," Stacey said, her voice hardly more than a whisper. Her back met the bookcase behind her and a book fell to the floor with a thump. She paid it no attention. "How would you like it if someone else was always... always in your head with you? Who knew all of your deepest, darkest secrets? Can you imagine what it would be like to never be completely alone?"
"That must be... very difficult for you."
"And that's just my side of the equation! The more... more natural side. Ana grows younger by the day, having to hide her transformation... until one day it becomes unavoidable. Until she is a baby, crawling around, shrinking instead of growing... who will take care of her if I'm no longer around? Who will watch her die?"
"But just think of the possibilities of bringing this process out of the darkness and into the light! No more hiding! Institutionalized support for both twins, at both ends of the birth and death spectrum! We can fill this town with twins and none of you would have to hide your true nature!"
"Our true nature? Like we're some sort of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?"
"That was not my intention at all, my dear. I chose my words poorly, that's all." The mayor took a step toward her.
"Stay away from me," Stacey demanded, sliding her back along the shelf, sending more books clattering to the floor. "You speak of success as though it is guaranteed. As though it were desirable. Do you even know what failure looks like?"
"Better than you could possibly know, my dear." The mayor paused, his eyes suddenly filling with sadness. His gaze dropped to the floor before he repeated himself. "Better than you could possibly know."
Stacey reached the end of the bookshelf and stumbled backward. As she caught her balance and righted herself two enormous, strong hands grabbed her by the shoulders.
3 comments:
Right, let's just get into it I guess :) Sorry about double posting, I suspect it's only just over the word limit in full, but none of it seemed to be easy to cut :(
Mine:
The reconnection in Stacey's head was more startling than the loss of connection when the door had closed.
How...? she thought, feeling slightly dizzy. No, wait, that wasn't her feeling, that was Ana's.
I followed you. I... let's say climbed the wall. I'm not hurt, but I might be having a heart attack.
You climbed that wall with those spikes? Stacey couldn't keep the concern, or the belief that that was a deeply foolish thing to do out of her thoughts. Are you ok?
Heart attack might be more accurate than I'd like. There was a hint of remorse. I'm going to sit down in this chair, it's by the door and facing it; I don't think you'll see me unless you come over.
Stacey refocused her attention on the Mayor. He'd been telling the truth: the side door lead straight into a very traditional library with wing-backed chairs, a chess-table, an open fire (ash in the fireplace, no logs) and wood-panelled walls. The shelves took up nearly half the room and were free-standing and reached to the ceiling. She and the Mayor were now three rows back, having passed books with names like Progeria and its diagnosis, Gerontology in the sub-continent, Neo-natal rituals in Tibet and Nepal and The New England Journal of Medicine. Here though the books were esoteric in a non-medical way: she was looking as the Mayor browsed past Frasier's Golden Bough, Von Daniken's Chariots of the Gods and Labdaris's Libro di pensieri catenati. There was no sign of Ayn Rand or Thomas Mann.
"This one, I think," said the Mayor pleasantly. He pulled on the top of the spine of a book that didn't look much like a book to Stacey, and it tilted out a little before clicking and sliding back into place. At the far end of the shelves the wall swung open, revealing itself to be a door.
"I'm not surprised," said Stacey. "I grew up watching Scooby-Doo, you know."
The Mayor smiled. "I wouldn't be showing you this if you weren't Stacey MacBride," he said. "But Dr. MacDonald noted you down as one of the successes, and maybe you can help us both." He didn't wait for an answer but headed to the new door, and his hand reached to the left and turned on a light-switch. Beyond the door was a room with two steel tables set lengthwise across it, and a liquor cabinet behind them. On the tables were a cradle, neatly adorned with white linen, and a pair of birthing paddles.
"What the...?" said Stacey, half under her breath. She followed him, too intrigued to be scared.
If there's a baby in that crib, we're in trouble. Ana had picked the image of the room straight out of Stacey's thoughts.
Are you ok yet?
Heart's still racing, and I may have pulled a muscle in my back. It'll be good to be ten years younger, I'm looking forward to that.
The cradle was covered at the top by some transparent membrane that looked slightly oily. An iridescent sheen passed first one way, then the other as Stacey tilted her head. Inside it was something that looked like a steel egg.
"That," said the Mayor, "is the thing that Dr. MacDonald used to create you and you twin. And all the other twins in Crimson Falls. There's a room in the hospital where it belongs."
"There's a doorway in that room that doesn't have a wall around it," said Stacey. She stared at the egg, wondering how it connected to the doorway.
"Sort of," said the Mayor. "That's the delivery room, actually. The room where the egg goes is locked and I check it every couple of weeks. You didn't get in there."
"So what do you want to do?"
"Reopen the hospital," said the Mayor. He smiled at her. "Dr. MacDonald said you were a success, and he left notes. We can follow them. We can have more twins. More people can get life-advice and guidance from someone who's practically part of themselves. Think of how much humanity will improve through this."
"You want to reopen the hospital?" Stacey asked, stunned. "You want to make more of... you think Ana and I were successes?"
"Of course!" The mayor looked bemused. "You and your twin are both successful, well adjusted folks. No abnormalities, physical or emotional. If I didn't know better I'd think you two weren't related at all!"
"You're a lunatic," Stacey said, backing away. In her head Ana was trying to tell her something but she was too overwhelmed to comprehend the message. "You think what And and I are is some sort of... ideal? You have no idea what our lives are like... what my life is like."
"So enlighten me, my dear. The more I know the better our results will be, surely."
"You seem like a man who enjoys his privacy," Stacey said, her voice hardly more than a whisper. Her back met the bookcase behind her and a book fell to the floor with a thump. She paid it no attention. "How would you like it if someone else was always... always in your head with you? Who knew all of your deepest, darkest secrets? Can you imagine what it would be like to never be completely alone?"
"That must be... very difficult for you."
"And that's just my side of the equation! The more... more natural side. Ana grows younger by the day, having to hide her transformation... until one day it becomes unavoidable. Until she is a baby, crawling around, shrinking instead of growing... who will take care of her if I'm no longer around? Who will watch her die?"
"But just think of the possibilities of bringing this process out of the darkness and into the light! No more hiding! Institutionalized support for both twins, at both ends of the birth and death spectrum! We can fill this town with twins and none of you would have to hide your true nature!"
"Our true nature? Like we're some sort of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?"
"That was not my intention at all, my dear. I chose my words poorly, that's all." The mayor took a step toward her.
"Stay away from me," Stacey demanded, sliding her back along the shelf, sending more books clattering to the floor. "You speak of success as though it is guaranteed. As though it were desirable. Do you even know what failure looks like?"
"Better than you could possibly know, my dear." The mayor paused, his eyes suddenly filling with sadness. His gaze dropped to the floor before he repeated himself. "Better than you could possibly know."
Stacey reached the end of the bookshelf and stumbled backward. As she caught her balance and righted herself two enormous, strong hands grabbed her by the shoulders.
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