15 - Trying the Lock

Helena: "What do you think we can do so soon after the major work we did back home?"

Saras: "If you have no physiological complaints, we can move Dial Two to 100. Also, any minor tweaks that don't involve the bones could be done tonight, now that you've had some time to assess my work."

Helena: "I'm not feeling anything wrong physically; I don't know if there's something in particular you'd like to check. As far as appearance, I think you've got it basically correct. I'm a little... perfect? compared to what I remember. I don't know how noticeable that is to someone who isn't me." I shrug. "There is something else... missing, but I have not been able to put a finger on it. It may only be I am missing the constant small moments of maintenance my body used to do without my conscious participation. But it does feel like something is gone or has been removed that I might need.

Helena: "Maybe that's something we can only really respond to as I get a better handle on it."

Saras: "Well... there was little work necessary to make you perfect, {beloved}, and I'm not sure I'd know how to undo that." He smiles. "Perhaps I could manage a small beauty mark of some kind to distract from that, if you wished."

Gently, his hands comforting on your arms, "As for what's missing... you said yourself that your current state was like being suddenly blind. Perhaps that is what you sense."

Then, a thought, "Did Alma say anything about her experience when you visited?"

Helena: "Ah, yes. Being so busy I forgot." I tell him everything she said, as close to verbatim as possible.

Saras: "Do you feel prepared to look into what she described?"

Helena: "My first appointment tomorrow is at lunchtime. If I will be fit again by then, we can go ahead."

Saras: "I would think so. She spoke of a refuge... that does not sound so traumatic. Take yourself into the room, and we can look. If either of us feel a risk, we can hold off of experimenting." He asks for your Trump, and makes himself comfortable, cross-legged on the bed, inviting you to join him as you would best be comforted.

Helena: I lie down on my back with my head in his lap if that works.

Saras: You both find that quite satisfactory.

He tenderly brushes your hair from your face, and awaits your submerging.

Helena: Using the ways we have worked out together, I head for the "control room."

Saras: A long moment later, there you are. Do you wish to 'look behind' or review what Alma said of the doors?

Helena: In recalling it to Saras, I mention that she said, "…the third door is the key. It looks fearsome, but all one needs is the proper memory to open it. While he searches, you should look behind when next he views your doors."

Saras: "The third door... the locked door. Hmm... key to your shapeshifting, maybe? Did she say how to open it?"

Helena: "She seemed to believe some memory I would have would be the key."

Saras: "Hmm... Well, perhaps I should remove the lock on the second door and let you see what you sense on the third. Maybe it will hint at what memory you need to access."

Helena: "Yes, I think that sounds right."

Saras: "All right." He picks up your Trump. "Whenever you're ready...."

You feel Saras 'arrive' a moment later.

Helena: The boards seem unchanged?

GM: 100, 95, 5, 5... just as before. The lock has shifted again, but still holds.

Helena: I point out to Saras, "It's been doing that persistently... shifting around just a little."

Saras: "I remember. It may not once you lock it. Your body is very resistant to outside influences."

Helena: I look down at the board. "Should I go ahead with bumping number two here up to a hundred, or should we wait until we're done with... whatever we're doing?"

Saras: "Go ahead. It shouldn't be too directly related, and it'll be one less thing to worry about if we end up leaving quickly for whatever reason."

Helena: I nod, and do so.

GM: The switch is made. No perceptible change, but you weren't really expecting one.

Helena: Yes. And so I observe while Saras removes his lock.

GM: You sense some of the intricacies of will that go into creating it, but not the combination. As the lock parts, you feel small bits of knowledge beginning to accumulate about Saras in the back of your mind again.

Helena: annoying, but I avoid worrying about it for now. It's interesting that now I don't even have to be looking through stuff in detail for this to happen.

GM: Perhaps your greater familiarity has forged additional connections. Alma never said how it was supposed to work when she trained for it

Helena: True.

I give him a ghost of a smile. "I guess, let's go."

GM: The door opens, and you see the third door. To your left, the adjoining door (#4?) is closed but not locked. How do you approach this?

Helena: Talking out loud as much for myself as Saras, I say, "Well, the 'boxes' that represent information the being gathered... those are added since this place was created, and so they are not part of the memory I need..."

Saras: "Right."

Helena: I walk the perimeter of the room, looking for any details about how it's made that may trigger anything. Is it just a plain, almost featureless room, or was some imagination put into it? e.g. are there moldings on the doors, doorknobs, what have you that speak to a particular period of architecture or place I've been?

GM: Almost featureless - very low resolution, like an 8-bit videogame or a fly-eye camera.

Helena: hmm... not helpful. I stop my wanderings in front of the locked door and just observe it for a while. Does the lock have a visual representation, or do I just "know" that it's locked?

GM: Visual representation is sort of an old padlock on a simple hasp, keeping the sliding latch from moving.

Helena: I put my hands flat on the door, and then move them down a bit, like checking for heat or feeling for vibration. Finally I hold the lock in my hand and look it over carefully, underneath it, feeling the weight of it, how strong it is.

Saras: The door seems cool and inert; hinting at the kind of permanence that the Pattern represents. The lock feels very solid, built with more will than you think you could ever summon, and it feels both alien and a bit like the Entity.

Helena: I look at Saras. "It built this lock. How could it build a lock that my own memory can unlock?"

Saras: A quaint vulgarism echoes in the background, and then, "Unless it has the necessary memory...."

Helena: "So something it could access readily?"

Saras: "Perhaps. It has had forty years of existance to draw from, though, even if only by proxy."

Helena: "Maybe more likely, then, is some shared memory between my mother and myself, rather than something it could grab from me in the short time it had."

Saras: "What do you think it might have gained in the time it had?"

Helena: "I was trying to help Alma when the switch occurred, so I was focussed on her. Things I know about her might have been to the fore... she was upset that I was stationed in Amber. She pulled all my memories of coming here into herself when we linked.

Saras: *gentle nod-sensation*

Helena: I start reciting through my memories of that time. "I was attacked when I first arrived. I had not thought the main roads to Amber would be... blocked the way they were -- anyway, so there was the attack. Met some of Julian's men, and Julian himself. Met Benedict. He extracted me and gave us the title for this property for a Jesby mission. I met several of the children of the royals, and assisted against a threat to them -- to us all rather. You may have heard? Reported back to Loren, and to the King here. Met more of his brothers and sisters. Started work on the embassy..." I shake my head. "Nothing really seems missing, there."

Saras: "Try those, and see what comes. Even if it's not in that list, its reactions might give us a clue to what is."

Helena: "I will. Maybe if those are dead ends I can try more personal things between Alma and me."

I'm not sure exactly what I'm doing, but I hold the lock in my hands and think back to my approach to Amber on the day Julian's men ambushed me. I try to think of it with full context, the way I would think through something to give a report or assess a military situation. I fill in the setting, the sounds -- which notably did not change in any way to alert me to the attack that was coming. The impact itself, the direction it came from and the sensation of being punched unbelievably hard. The instant action of the toxin, and the wall of fire inside me as my instinct to shift tried to engage around it...

That moment of recognition when I saw the arrowhead, and my own blood.

Saras: Nothing yet.

Helena: Kickstarting my brain to recognize the direction of the attack and move me... engaging Fioral and finally being forced to stop as we were surrounded.

GM: A brief flicker as your mind recalls seeing Julian drawing a second arrow

Helena: Julian at the head of that line, yes. The picture of him and his archers like they'd stepped straight out of the trees...

GM: Feels like a memory of Julian... but not this one.

Helena: And on past Benedict's interruption, and the castle, and meeting Julian's son...

GM: Feels farther from the mark now.

Helena: Farther in time, or farther from the topic?

GM: farther from the topic. It's a bit like sliding a key into a lock, and those 'teeth' are not engaging the 'pins' like the Julian one did.

Helena: Okay. I move forward to my other memory of Julian, his arrival in my office.

GM: That's equally close to the first memory, but not enough to 'turn the key.' It's definitely a memory of Julian.

Helena: I don't think Helena engaged him on the battlefield - at least not to actually see him.

"Could it be a memory my mother has, that she just... told me about?"

Saras: "I don't know. Maybe. But a told memory wouldn't be enough to turn such a lock."

Helena: I frown. "I didn't think so."

Saras: "Transferred, yes, but not just a story."

Helena: "But there are a few things shared that way -- transferred as you say.

"I'll try."

Saras: He observes, but not too closely, in case the memory is particularly private.

Helena: Again I prepare my mind as I would to give a detailed report, a report to a superior who may find something important in what I observed that I don't recognize as important.

I look back to the brief flashes of memory Alma retained of her capture. The physical torture. The rapes. Her picture of him over her.

GM: That is so very close... but not quite.

Helena: The moment of conflict between Julian and Benedict, when he took her from Julian's control...

GM: Slightly farther from the mark

Helena: So I wrack my brain for any other thing she may have shared with me, any other sighting of him or interaction with him... or any interaction of mine with him that I've forgotten about.

GM: Nothing else seems so close as Julian hovering over Alma....

Helena: I go back there, awful as it is. She transferred that to me, perhaps there is a moment there that she could not consciously recall, but that came with.

I go back to the beginning of what she gave me, and redo it all...

GM: None of the violence works, nothing else lines up quite right... but you know it is Julian and Alma in close quarters.

Helena: I will push the dark spots she sensibly tried to forget. I will push prior to her capture, in case her initial seduction of him or their ... lovemaking beforehand is a memory she might have clung to during her torture.

GM: That either didn't come over, or wasn't there to give.

Helena: I am definitely willing to work through this, but I am guessing I will soon exhaust all the material we've got to work with. Was there a conversation between the two of them, or some other kind of interaction around, say, when he forced her to abort? There was something she said about him searching out the fertilized eggs in her... I don't know how that could be done, except by a shift surgeon. Some kind of extraordinary mental contact?

GM: Sorcery and Torture, in equal measures, even though the former was far more necessary.

The things he said to her are all garbled, perhaps due to head injuries already suffered by that point

He beat the Hell out of her, healed her, and beat her some more.

Helena: I can almost feel my tears, but this must be seen, must be reported. I know, I know.

GM: Slaughtering your unborn sisters does not lead to the key. Saras has pulled back so far you can barely feel him now.

Helena: What else do I have to do for this, I feel like asking it.

I try once more, easy now, careful to keep myself in control, capable: was there any point, any moment at all that she struck back at him? And the second question, much more awful, was there a point that it became hopeless and she gave in?

GM: Alma never fought back, but she never gave in. There was a daemon running on her stage, keeping her 'in character' that truly believed she was what her cover story stated, and nearly went to the grave pleading for him to believe it.

Eventually she had to stop pleading because she lacked the means to form coherent sentences, but she never surrendered

Helena: What was the story?

GM: That she really was just a camp follower, a lover of Benedict's that he had grown bored with. The specifics didn't come over, but perhaps that was how Benedict realized she wasn't who she claimed.

Julian was none the wiser until Benedict pointed her up. That was a part of his fury

Helena: And that's why the demon suppressed her shapeshifting; so she wouldn't give it away by healing herself of shifting unconsciously.

GM: Yup.

Helena: Aw, fuck.

"It's not here." My mental voice carries a weight that would be hoarseness in my own throat. "There is a memory of her with Julian that I don't have."

Saras: Saras strengthens the link enough to whisper, "I am sorry."

Helena: "I'm sorry..." I just let that trail off.

Saras: You are just barely aware of some light pressure on your face. "Do you want to stop? There was something else, but I will not ask you to endure that again."

Helena: "I am not asking any more of Alma. So if you saw something else in it, something else we could try, let's do it."

Saras: "The 'look behind' she mentioned. What do you think that leads to?"

Helena: "I didn't understand that. I thought she meant for me to look from behind you towards what you were doing. But I guess it could mean looking into the other room, away from the door, while you... stimulate the lock somehow, work on it."

Saras: "Shall we try? I will focus on the lock once the mental residue cools."

Helena: I nod, and let go of it suddenly, rubbing my hands on my thighs.

GM: There are aches in you that can only be from the memories you subjected yourself to... but eventually you feel even and calm again.

Helena: (heh, you think so? but relatively even and calm, I suppose)

I turn away and walk towards the door to the stage.

GM: (the 'room' gives you distance. You'll probably still be a weepy mess when you return to yourself)

The 4th door opens to your touch, seemingly connecting to nothing of import.

The stage is now in view, empty, but 'wishing' to be occupied

Helena: I stand in the doorway, glad of looking at nothing for the moment.

Then I step towards it a half step.

GM: Nothing seems to have changed. The door to the control room is closed but unlocked to your right.

You sense that the boxes 'wish' to be assembled, as if there is a vacuum here that your nature somehow abhorrs

Helena: I listen to my senses a while, between the desire to fill the stage, and the desire to figure out the boxes.

"My mother met you as a patient, she said."

Saras: "Yes," Saras whispers. "I had Chaos Cancer. Lost 2/3 of my body mass to it before they cured me."

Helena: "Do they know how you contracted it?"

Saras: Gently, quietly, flatly, "I pushed myself beyond my limits to save a patient."

Helena: I go towards the boxes, and start putting the stuff back in, ordering them properly, undoing the damage I did before.

"I know that is the sort of thing you would do." It is a statement of fact.

"Did you save your patient?"

Saras: "No." After what seems a long pause, "It may have been for the best. His mind was likely gone."

Helena: I nod. "That is hard. I would have trouble making such a choice."

GM: Ordering things eases the light pressure, but you still feel a vacuum at the stage

Helena: Once I have collected up all the stuff I left out, I will take all the boxes from the first case down and sort everything in them, and set them to the side. Then the next case (Saras's). Then the last. I will look on the shelves and under them for anything that might have fallen out or been hidden.

Finally I put them all back correctly, and go back to the doorway to the stage.

GM: There does not appear to be a fourth possibility, and there were none lost in your earlier 'unsorting'. They fall into their places, and the boxes' wish is quieted. As additional boxes appear for Saras, they sort themselves neatly, neither adding nor reducing pressure.

Now the stage. It doesn't want you, so much as a script, a director, a companion, it seems.

Helena: Does it have records of what has come before?

GM: None that you sense... but it might never have been properly occupied during the Entity's tenure

Helena: "You're working on the lock, now?" I ask of Saras, over my shoulder.

Saras: "Yes, as much as I can. It does not want my intrusion, and I am not eager to thrust my brain too deeply into a Pattern construct."

Helena: I raise my eyebrows to myself. no shit...

I walk forward into the room. I close the door behind me.

GM: Soft click, still not locked, though

Saras: Saras gently assures you that he's still at work

Helena: I pace it out, trying to get a feel for it.

GM: You feel a bit more free to move than previous, but your 'feet' seem on rails a bit still. There is a sense that perhaps you could build something without using the boxes, if you had the patience.

Saras: "Perhaps this is not the room that has a 'behind'," Saras whispers, "since you could see all four walls of it before."

Helena: I shrug mentally. "Perhaps not."

Saras: "If you are on to something, though, do continue."

Helena: "I... don't think so."

Saras: "That's okay."

Helena: But I do, in fact, finish what circuit the limited function of this place allows, and then go out. "I can try the control room, while you continue to work."

Saras: "Okay." You might be able to think of something more when you are not so spent.

GM: You are able to face into the control room for the first time, and you see a small gemstone set into the back wall... and then another, darker.

Helena: I hold my... breath, for lack of a better word.

I walk forward slowly. As I pass the controls I look at them to make sure they are where I remembered they should be.

GM: 100-100-5-5

Helena: I look at the back wall again.

I approach it.

GM: Two stones, one light, one dark. The light seems comforting, the dark a little less so, but both almost seem like doors to somewhere away from all this... mechanism

Helena: just set into the wall?

GM: Yup. In sockets. At close range, you can just make out a third socket that is empty.

You think you could touch them without going through, but it wouldn't take much of a push to make them.. do whatever they do

Helena: I reach out to feel what they are like to touch. First the dark stone, then the light. one.

GM: The dark stone feels like living marble. The light one reminds you of petting Boss by the lake; soft, furry, quiet but alive

Helena: "I'm going to... change something, I think."

Saras: "What?" Saras whispers, and acknowledging him pulls at your view a bit, trying to steer you back to the controls

Helena: "I see two... stones. They feel like doors to me. I don't know what will change."

Saras: "I don't either. I'm not sure how long it would take to get back," he reminds, "since we don't know where you're going."

Helena: "Makkus is good at his job." I press the darker stone.

GM: Everything goes black.

You find yourself back on your bed, your head in Saras' lap, and a conjured cool compress over your eyes. You feel Saras break the Trump contact, and then whispers, "Oh shit...." At first, you feel frozen - not paralyzed but immobile.
Helena: I will not panic. I wait for him to tell me more.

Saras: He removes the compress, and you see the room is lit with a pale blue glow... radiating from your body.

Helena: I breathe quietly, steadily, waiting without judging.

Saras: Slowly, as the glow diminishes, you feel your mobility returning. Finally, as the last of the light is gone, you might be able to sit up. Saras whispers, "I hope you know the way back from here." He points toward the mirror on your dresser so you can see for yourself.

Helena: I look at my hands first.

Saras: Beautiful marble, like your demon-form, but marked with fading blue lines that echo the layout of the Pattern.

Helena: I breathe, in and out.

I look up at the mirror image.

Saras: The perceived weight on your chest is confirmed as you look. It is your marble flesh, streaked with fading blue, layered over the Entity's form.

Helena: I rock my head back and clench my jaw.

Saras: Saras gives you room for your motion, saying nothing.

Helena: "I don't know. Perhaps I can go back in."

Saras: "Perhaps." He pauses. "Let the blue fade first, though," and he moves his hands aside to show light smoke rising from his skin.

Helena: I master my desire to reach for him in concern, and instead slowly nod.

Saras: He shifts to demon-form, shedding some dead skin as he does so. Meanwhile, your blue-on-ivory slowly becomes ivory and cream.

Helena: I wait it out.

GM: You are now warm again, and the blue is gone. Saras seems to be considering whether human-form or demon-form would serve best for the next round.

Helena: "When you are ready," I say quietly. "Before we go, do you wish to see what I saw? Trying to pay attention to you while I am in there pulls me away so that I cannot see it."

Saras: "I could. Some of it I was able to sense peripherally, but perhaps the specifics would help."

Helena: I describe it while I make the memory available to him by Trump or whatever means he wishes.

Saras: Trump seems to be his most comfortable means, and use it he does. After, "Well... there is little to be garnered, but I have what you have, at least."

Helena: "I can only think to try the other. It seems... unlikely that you could help me as long as I am in this form."

Saras: He nods.

Helena: I lie down again, apart from him this time, and try to bring the control room back into focus.

Saras: It takes a lot longer to return than before... a sense of falling at the end... and then there is a sudden flash of pain that snaps you back to your body.

Helena: ?! I blink. Look around.

Saras: You are in human-form, only slightly shifted toward her.

Saras: Saras also looks stunned, and his hair is smoking slightly.

Helena: "Did you observe anything?"

Saras: He actually dips forward a bit before recovering. "A blue flash," he mutters, exhaling as if he had drawn from a cigar. He rises stiffly from the bed, heading for the bathroom.

Helena: I measure my frustration and my anger and put it aside, leaving the soldier to the fore while I wait for Saras's return.

Saras: There is the soft sound of vomiting, and then the water starts running. He is gone some minutes.

He returns, his shirt tossed aside. "How are you?" he croaks.

Helena: "Numb. Better than you, it looks like." There is nothing in my voice but facts.

"Do you think I have to go in alone now?"

Saras: "Perhaps it would be better to conclude tonight, and perhaps adjust your 'losses' in the morning."

"I would not decide whether you must be alone or not right now...."

Helena: I shake my head. "You'll be in no condition to help me tomorrow."

Saras: "I have been worse," he lies gently.

Helena: "I feel I need to continue. We have already done too much, and I will be unable to make my appointments tomorrow. So I should press on."

Saras: "Then I will take a few more minutes, and monitor you through Trump as I have." It does not sound like he will be moved.

Helena: I nod. "If you must. Probably I can't continue unless someone is... nudging the lock at the same time anyway."

Saras: "I will take better precautions this time, now that I know what is coming."

He sits heavily on the edge of the bed, looking sunburned.

Helena: "Should I go first?"

Saras: "Please do not begin without me, but yes, I can meet you within."

Helena: I nod. and with nothing further to say, I go.

GM: You are within. After a moment, you realize that you can turn if you wish, and see the sockets. The dark stone is slightly brighter now, almost inviting.

Helena: I don't have any recollection of the series of changes that occurred after I touched the stone the last time?

GM: By the time he arrives, the dark gem has evolved into an ivory pearl, lighter than even the bright stone.

You recall nothing... wait, perhaps a transition, like departing the center of the Pattern; an instant of Power.

Helena: but no sense of control or understanding.

GM: None. Just a flash, a sharp transition. Nothing like shape-shifting as you understand it

Helena: "It has changed," I say. "The dark stone that brought on the transition before, it is light in color now as though empowered."

Saras: Saras 'nods.' "Has your turn eased? I have not engaged the door, but I sense that you see what you wish there."

He nods once more, clearer now. "I see it. Perhaps it has been enlivened by your passage."

Helena: "I do see, even without you there."

Saras: "I will remain, even so, in case you need me, or my observations."

Helena: "I don't know... I don't know whether going again to the same place will help me pass out of here, or whether I should simply explore the other 'place' to get as much information as possible.

"I don't know what information I got already."

Saras: "It does seem a strange thing to be called a 'refuge' by Alma."

Helena: "She may have meant refuge from her own personal prison."

Saras: "Perhaps." He girds himself mentally. "If you pass through the other, I will not be so burnt, I promise.

"Odd that it resembled your prison so closely, though."

Helena: "I don't see how it is a prison to me. It is like... the place the entity set up for itself. I don't even understand why there is a locked place. Before the moment we struggled with it, my shapeshifting seemed unaffected."

Saras: "I can't imagine it having time to create such a lock on the fly in the time I left it, but, sufficiently prepared... even then, it would be remarkable."

Helena: "You see why I don't understand."

Saras: "I do not know, {Beloved}. Yes, I do see."

Helena: "I will... try the other stone, now."

Saras: "I am ready," he whispers, and you feel him withdraw slightly.

Helena: I try to slow things down, sense, move.

GM: You dig in a bit, manage to feel... it flashes by very quickly, but it feels like you're chasing - playing with? - a unicorn in Arden. Then, suddenly, you are splayed out on the bed, completely discombobulated. Your vision is black-and-white, and you feel bombarded with new smells; every workman that has passed through here; smells of food and people and exotic things passing by outside. You catch a whiff of Saras's burnt flesh, and a low whine emerges from your throat unbidden.

Helena: I drag myself up to sitting position. I have been close to animal before enough to recognize it.

Am I properly articulated, at least?

GM: You are a beautiful wolfhound, suitably articulated, but out of practice as a quadruped.

Helena: I look to Saras.

Saras: Saras is not smoking this time, and he manages a smile. "Boss will be thrilled... or terrified."

Helena: I lean my forehead against his chest. Does my throat feel suitable for speaking?

GM: You aren't sure if you can speak. Do you want to try mental contact instead?

Helena: I pull back, and touch the trump with my paw to indicate it.

Saras: He picks it up. "Speak," he quips, and you feel him in your mind. Your vision swims slightly, and color begins to leak back into your perceptions.

Helena: Mentally weary, I say, "Does it seem to you that my choices now are to go between these two forms?"

Saras: "Your humanity is available as well, but otherwise, yes, so it would seem." He thinks. "I wonder if the empty socket represents your full ability, or some other form. Was this your avatar-form before?" He scratches between your ears, comforting as much as teasing.

Helena: I smile wearily, unconcerned how that will come across on hound's features. "It was not. I know nothing of it.

"You think you see a return to my human form among the options?"

Saras: "Perhaps your original Avatar belongs there, then... awaiting some key." He thinks. "The control room seems to represent your human-form, or hers."

Helena: "You think it will... return that somehow?"

Saras: "Just visiting the control room made you human. I'm not sure if your human-form is behind that door, or something else. The shift before seemed to 'heal' her, but at least not quickly. I presume that restoring you again may undo more Work, but we won't know for sure until you do change."

Helena: I put my head against his chest again. "We shall have to see. If this is the case, at least my Trumps are here."

Saras: "Agreed," he whispers. Then he looks into your eyes. "Have you any voice at all?"

Helena: I try with his name.

GM: It sounds very gravelly, but with practice, you think you could be intelligible.

Helena: And so, I nod.

Saras: "Okay, so this trap is not such a limit, at least." Then, "If it does not let go so easily, I mean. Will you remain so to see what it might tell you, or are you concluding tonight's experiments?"

Helena: "What what might tell me?"

Saras: "This form does not burn, so I can investigate you further; see what means you used to change. The shift was unlike anything I've seen, Helena."

Helena: "You mean you could look at that now?"

Saras: "I can look at the details of your form, see what Chaos level it posseses, perhaps look for the mechanism that led you to it."

Saras: "I can't promise results, but any knowledge may be an asset at this point."

Helena: "Right. Right. Okay."

Saras: "We can wait if you wish an end." With your Trump still open, you can feel his mind flasing over all you've already been through.

Helena: "No, I wish to get what we need to put a final end to this. If a little time now will help, and you are up to that, then please..."

Saras: He nods, setting his legs apart and inviting you into his lap. Taking your head in his hands, her stares into your eyes, your Trump still tucked in one palm. Time passes, with Saras stroking you idly from time to time, and then, "I've never seen the like, Helena... but maybe... maybe it makes sense against everything else. Thank you for continuing this far." He pets your head lovingly. "Come back to me, {Beloved}. I think we've done all we can."

Helena: I let myself lay down on the bed, and go away to that place. I want to stay there a minute if it will let me....

GM: How hard are you willing to fight? It doesn't seem to want to hold you, entering from this 'direction.'

Helena: I will concentrate as best I can. I'm not sure what I have left in me to do this.

GM: Using all you have left, you manage to fall into the control room. Your low-rez vision is even blurrier than usual, and you aren't sure how long you'll be able to remain. What do you do?

Helena: 1) check the controls

GM: 100-100-5-5

Helena: 2) go through the door to the stage.

GM: you see the stage... feel the door trying to close behind you.

Helena: (you mean to close me in here, or to push me out?)

GM: (close you in)

Helena: I say out loud, "What I need right now is to be Helena. This will all start again if I can't

GM: You sense that there may be pieces she could use at hand....

Helena: What kind of pieces?

GM: Boxes from the storeroom; if you can manage the proper combination, and perhaps provide more power than usual. However, you aren't sure if you can stay long enough to assemble them.

Helena: I back into the control room again, stand a moment, and let the vision fade.

GM: A sense, like a sigh, then a gasp as you breathe into your own lungs again, in some semblance of your own shape.