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Chapter 14

The very need for an animator to express excess memories to stay sane is evidence enough that an imbuing avatar receives more than just a story through the process. We are literally tapping souls, after all.

For all of her eccentricities, Kimoe was a machine. She led Sanya through the Rift like a woman obsessed. They cut through entire buildings and structures blanketed in moss. Across busy thoroughfares and down into the tunnels they went, only to reappear in a completely different section of the Rift. And, through it all, Kimoe found avatars to help. She didn't offer to heal anyone else, but Sanya watched the old woman make lights work, stop leaks, and do whatever little service she could. Also, unlike Nevan, everyone Kimoe helped for the rest of the day gave her something in payment. They gave her small novels, pads of paper of every grade, and some even transferred credits to her account. All of them seemed to expect Kimoe's visit, to the point that Sanya wondered if the woman had standing arrangements for her services.

Despite doing all the work, Kimoe never seemed to tire. Sanya, however, was exhausted. She struggled with each passing hour to keep a hold of her thoughts. Her tired mind wanted to wander into memories that weren't hers. She had trouble remembering what she was supposed to be doing. More than once, Kimoe was forced to backtrack only to find her stumbling down random alleys or standing alone in an empty room with no idea how she got there. With only an hour of daylight left, Kimoe led Sanya into a small building far away from the larger skyrises in the middle of the Rift.

Sanya blinked in confusion as she stepped inside. Cluttered shelves and stacks of crates filled the small space until there was hardly room to walk. It felt like Kimoe's piles in the bridge, but these stacks looked more organized; they were a display rather than merely storage. A skinny male avatar with silver hair and blue eyes shimmied between the stacks to greet them.

"Kimoe, I had not expected to see you today. How can I be of service?" He bowed, hands booked forward, as he spoke.

Kimoe glanced at Sanya. "She needs rest."

The man looked her over. "Yes, she looks tired. There is a padded seat in that corner." He pointed to the far side of the room.

She looked at Kimoe, who nodded.

"Go. Find you when I'm done."

The thought of a soft chair nearly made Sanya's knees buckle, but she forced herself to walk past the man and work her way through the stacks. She heard the man's voice behind her, but she couldn't concentrate on his words while focusing on not knocking over the neat stacks and laden shelves. Once she found the chair, she plopped down and let her arms sag heavily over the sides. Her legs throbbed, and her mind spun. She had never been this tired in the mines, but that had been slow, steady work in one place. Her feet felt as though they had walked every road in the city.

For a while, she stared sightlessly at the stacks in front of her, too tired to even close her eyes. Gradually, the crates blurred into dark pillars that wavered in the air and stretched towards her. Arms grew from their sides and multicolored eyes flashed in their heads. They lunged, and Sanya jerked awake, nearly falling out of the chair. She shook herself, breathing deeply until her heart slowed.

The light in the room was dim, and she looked around, listening for Kimoe's voice. The room was silent. How long had she been asleep? Sanya stood and moved back towards the door, but a row of familiar objects caught her eye. She turned and saw row after row of neatly stacked books on shelves that ran the length of the room. Her mouth fell open at the sheer volume of them just hidden away in a cluttered building. Somehow, she sensed it was ludicrous bordering on hilarious. Even she knew how precious books were.

She walked along the shelves, running her gloved fingers across the many bindings as she scanned the titles. A book with a small red binding caught her eye. The cover featured an avatar, dark ashen skin and hair the color of a nighttime storm cloud, brandishing a wicked curved sword. Sanya pulled it out awkwardly with her gloves then held it under one arm as she pulled the gloves off. She fanned the pages with her thumb, feeling the now familiar tingle at her fingertips. She read the title, "Ashbad the Bondbreaker," then set the novel back in its place.