Valence 1-3

Like a snowball rolling down a hill...

Valence TOC

Read 1-2

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The street is oddly devoid of cars and people. I catch my reflection in dark shop windows as I pass - a white blur with angry eyes and a black streak of hair.

"He hasn't populated this area yet, so maybe he's not sure where I am."

As soon as I form that thought, my perception of gravity shifts for a fraction of a second. Time stands still as a great iridescent bubble roughly the size of a ferris wheel hovers over the center of the street to my left.

It shivers, the iridescense dancing over the surface, and pops, releasing its hold on me. All at once, cars appear moving down the street, turning at corners, slowing to a stop. Humanoid shapes fill the sidewalks, storefronts, and eateries.

Being in a figment during a loading state is new for me. The experience has left me feeling like I've been tossed against a wall, peeled off, wrung out, and tossed back again. My stomach lurches from the impact. The air feels too thick to breathe and I have to stop and attempt to take in what mouthfuls of it I can.

Buzz, buzz.

Trying my best not to listen to my own nervous thoughts, I continue running, building up from a slow, heavy trot, to a jog, and back to a sprint again.

I know this is useless: Paul could be anywhere and as soon as I find him, he could slip away again. I tried to tell that to them, but they know so little about what we've discovered that they just don't care. I have no choice.

"My way," I remind myself.

My mind probes along the limits of my "self" as it is represented here. I creep along the edges until I find the place where the wind cleaved my head in two. It is invisible to the eye, but remains as a tear in the barrier between myself and Paul's creation. It is healing slowly, but I can still use it, and maybe cause less disruption. I wedge my awareness into it, like a foot in a door jamb, and hold on tight. All I can do is hope that our bond will inevitably bring us together.

Trusting this small opening and my instincts, I start to form my energy into a small sphere. I imagine the sphere as a perfect, smooth snowball that I can roll down a hill as I run, gaining momentum and mass.

Coming up on my right is a small shop with a closed front door. The snowball feels impossibly cold and hot all at once, and I know it's time to let it go. Running as fast as I can, I throw both myself and this mental snowball at the door at once, aiming in my mind's eye for that split in the figment.

Right before would-be impact, the door wiggles gelatinously and disappears, leaving an opening into another scene for me to plunge into. A shimmering curtain of pins and needles passes over me with a loud crack. The usual blast of wind in my ears registers as only a brief but strong puff of air. My grip holds fast to the rip in the figment, despite it closing slightly around me.

My feet scrape the pavement as I emerge on the other side of the street. I stop and whirl about, making sure I'm not mistaken. I'm not. From where I stand, I can see the exact door, now returned to its original form, that I just jumped through.

Exhaling slowly, I work on calming myself before I start running again, visualizing the same snowball. I half expected this nonsense from Paul. Again, I hurl myself and the snowball of energy at a door.

CRACK

My hands and knees hit the rough asphalt of the street. I bounce back up and run from the crosswalk in the street toward another door. And another. And another. Every crack and whip of the wind leaves me in some other part of this small downtown scene, falling flat on my face onto the sidewalk or tumbling into the bushes by the lamppost, always nearly missing a car or one of the humanoids milling about. The last doorway partially closed on me, crushing me for one suffocating second before allowing me to slip through. I won't be able to keep the figment from healing itself. I'm going to lose my foothold.

Presently, I can see myself in this ridiculous white dress reflected in every shop window up and down this street, which seems to never end. Spinning around, the white blob in the glass spins with me.

Anger and a searing shame of defeat rise up from my stomach as a gush of bile that I have to choke down. Tears well up in my eyes uncontrollably at the thought of all the people who are watching me fail. As if on cue, the insidious buzzing rattles my head. I can't take this anymore.

Flying down the street, arms pumping at my sides, knees drawn up high with every step, a primal scream rends my throat.

"Paul! I'm going to find you! Stop fucking around!"

CRACK