Sapling

galaxies, stars and space-y stuff

Loren: I can't believe this. I'm already losing my mind.
[Loren has sat down at the kitchen table, intending to give herself a small pep talk. However, as has happened with all the "pep talks" she has given herself this week, she has once more begun to dwell on her faults and her bad choices.
It has been five days since Novica was taken to a childerling-home, and Loren has noticed herself doing all sorts of strange things, which she believes are a sign that living in this empty house without Novica is driving her mad. She came up with these pep talks in order to keep herself sane until she can think of a way to get Novica back, but they seem to have the opposite effect.]
Loren: I haven't even started doing nothing 'bout it yet. What can I do 'cept think? Well, I'm thinking right now and I ain't coming up with nothing. I don't even remember the last time I had a good idea. When your life's a monotony you don't really get ideas. Mm. But Novie often had ideas, 'bout how to make life better, 'bout how to leave Ling, 'bout how to get revenge on the city folk and the Lings. She'd know what to do. But she ain't here.
I feel lost. Stranded. This is stupid. Mr Haughton lives alone, and he ain't mad. Maybe I'm one of them people who needs to socialise. But that's stupid too. I don't never socialise with no one 'cept Novie, or at least... not usually. (Werd...) So that's wrong. Maybe me and Novie are tied in some supernatural way, so we can't really do well without the other. Maybe we're actually two halves of the same person. Oh, I don't know!
Ugh, things used to be so simple. Right and wrong. Good and evil. The Lings are the bad guys, me and Novie are the good guys. Well, ain't that still true? I dunno. Maybe not. No one sees me and Novie as good guys. But we are. We must be. Oh, this kind of thing ain't supposed to happen to good guys-good guys are supposed to win. They ain't supposed to go mad, or get separated. This ain't the way it's meant to be!
I should go... go speak to someone. Mr Haughton. No, damn, I can't talk to him! He must hate me after what I said to him in the foodshop. But he's the only one who'd listen. Who'd help. If he can help. Yes, I gotta. It's what Novie'd want. I can tell him sorry, then tell him 'bout what's happened to Novie, how they really did take her away. And then he'll forgive me and-but what if he don't forgive me? I don't think I'd blame him, to be honest.
There must be something I can do. I can't tell him I love him, even though I might, a teeny weeny bit. But I'm not meant to. I shouldn't, is what I guess I mean. But I can tell him we're friends, and we can always be friends, and he'll have to be content with that cuz we won't never be lovers. Yes, I'll go see him. I'll pick some flowers in the front garden maybe, to say sorry. Or would that seem too romantic?
Me and Werd, cuz neither us had never loved in this way before, we just kinda went with the flow, kissing now, talking now, and, you know, there was no rules to it. I never gave him flowers. But flowers are things you give to someone you love, to say thank you, or sorry, or "I love you". Well, it's a sorry present, it ain't nothing else. I hope he won't take it the wrong way.
I'll go, say, tomorrow? Or maybe today, else I'll postpone it indefinitely. Yes. I'm going. I can't back out now. It might not seem like this, but going to see Mr Haughton is gonna help me come up with a plan to save Novie. Yeah. Straight after lunch, I'll do it.
[Pleased with herself for the first time in five days, Loren leaves the kitchen and goes upstairs to prepare for the meeting with Mr Haughton. She finally feels that she can think clearly now that she has a purpose, and knows with satisfaction that it will ward off whatever madness was coming for her.
She decides she will have a warm bath to ease her thoughts, but she will avoid thinking of Novica. Novica seems to send off sparks in her mind, of anger, of fear, of despair-Loren knows she could do without that right now. While running the bath, she picks out a nice red dress to wear, recalling it belonged to her Mamling, and at the same time knowing well how silly this is.
Then she settles down into the bath and contemplates what she is going to do after lunch.]
Loren: (I can do this. I can do this. Say sorry. It ain't that hard. It's just that... I don't really see what I'm saying sorry for. I do not love him. That's true enough. And, like Novie said, I needed to tell him the truth. Ugh, Novie. I shouldn't be thinking of her.
I'll say sorry anyway, even if I don't need to. Cuz it's the right thing to do. Cuz I got to get him on my side again, someone who might know what to do, and together we'll make a plan, as quickly as we can, cuz I don't know how long Novie'll be able to hang on in that damn childerling-home without me. She'll be managing better than I am anyway.
We'll escape from here, the both of us, me and Novie, cuz I've finally had enough. Once I got her back in my arms again, we'll run away to the wilderness, but we gotta take-no, we can't. No, not possible. Then we'll run away, just the two of us, we'll find a way of surviving. It'll be easier to survive out there than it is here in Ling, I think. And we'll finally realise that nothing don't matter out there. We'll hide from the Lings, and after a while they'll get bored of searching for us. And then we'll be free, and we'll live out our lives there. And we'll be happy. Yes. That, most of all.
But first I gotta rescue Novie. Why does she always creep her way into my mind like this? Thinking of her don't help. Although it was nice, imagining what life'll be like once we're free. Right. I'm gonna clear my mind and think of nothing for a few minutes, then I'll get out the bath and get ready.)
[Loren closes her eyes and clears her mind. She lets herself soak for longer than she would have liked, until wrinkles form on her fingers and toes. She examines them and then lets the water out of the sink, before climbing out and wrapping a towel around herself.]
Loren: (And now I'll put on that nice silky red dress what used to be Mamling's. I'm full-grown now so it fits me. I dunno if it suits me, though. Well, it doesn't really matter. Only Mr Haughton's gonna see me. Sobert. Did I really call him that? Did I really wanna kiss him in the foodshop? I despair of myself sometimes.
That dress. It still smells of Mamling's bluebell perfume. Papling said she used to wear that all the time 'round the house, 'til the whole building smelled of it. And it still does. It lingers in the air, 'specially in her and Papling's bedroom, what me and Novie never go in. We fear... I dunno... that we'll disturb their ghosts, or something equally superstitious. We know it's probably just fancies, but still, better safe than sorry. That's what me and Novie say.) Get dressed. Right.
[Loren goes into her bedroom and puts on the dress. It fits her perfectly. She spends an age in front of the mirror, attempting to fix her tangled hair and put it into a tight bun held in place with what must have been hundreds of hair pins.
Finally satisfied, she looks at herself from every angle, applies some concealer to fix the dark circles under her eyes, and fastens a little jewelled brooch to her chest. Then she nods, and her reflection nods back, and she smiles, and her reflection smiles back, and she leaves to make herself some lunch.]
Loren: "Good morning, Mr Haughton, I trust that you are well? I am very sorry for the episode in the foodshop." No, too formal. "Hi, Sobes! By the way, so sorry for saying I don't love you and stuff. Wanna make up?" No! Way too informal! "Hello, Sobert." Should I call him Sobert? I don't know. "Hello, Sobert. I wanted to say I'm really sorry for the other day. I hope we can still be friends. Oh, and I brought you flowers." Yeah. That's good. Only I'll leave out the bit about the flowers, cuz he'll be able to see them in my hands. Good going, girl!
"Hello, Sobert. I wanted to say I'm really sorry for the other day. I hope we can still be friends." Yep. Perfect. Say that exact thing, word for word, and you can't go wrong-no matter what he says in return.
[In the kitchen, Loren places her sandwich on a plate and sits down contentedly. She had been going through what she will say to Mr Haughton when he opens the door, to make sure that she doesn't slip up and blush, which would be (she believes) extremely embarrassing considering the circumstances. She eats her lunch.]
Loren: See, look. If he says something like, "I forgive you," I can just say, "Thanks, I knew you would," and if he says, "No, don't worry, I think I behaved rather badly as well considering we barely know each other," I'll say, "As long as we both forgive each other, we can be friends and pretend like nothing ever happened," etcetera, etcetera. I can't go wrong. I won't mess up. For Novie's sake.
[Loren finishes her lunch and stands. She then puts some dark red leather boots on that she never wears, checks herself in the hall mirror, and opens the door. Since Novica acquired a liking for flowers, Loren bought all sorts of seeds that Mrs Hidlump happened to have on the counter at the foodshop. Sweetpea, geraniums, hyacinths, roses, daffodils... whatever they could get their hands on.
The flowers had flourished in the gentle sunlight they had received in the front garden, and Novica insisted on watering them regularly. So all of the flowers had grown tall and elegant, and now Loren picks one of each type. She runs inside to fetch a piece of green ribbon and then she ties them all up together and holds them to her nose. The sweet fragrance banishes all fearful thoughts from her mind.
Loren stands on her porch, inhaling the Spring air, and wishing that Novica were here to enjoy this moment with her. She clutches the flowers tightly, and looks across the road and to the left, where No. 23 is watching her. This is the abode of Sobert Haughton, and it seems to be waiting for her, daring her to cross the road and go in. Loren is not naturally a shy or nervous person, but now she shivers slightly in the cool breeze, and goes over what she is going to say to him one more time.]
Loren: "Hello, Sobert. I wanted to say I'm really sorry for the other day. I hope we can still be friends." Ok. Ok, girl. You can do this. Take a deep breath.
[Loren fills her lungs with air and then exhales, conscious of how her chest falls when she breathes out. She presses the flowers to herself and crosses the road, turning left and walking cautiously until she reaches No. 23. He has quite a large front garden, larger than hers, but it lacks the abundance of beautiful flowers that brighten Loren and Novica's garden.
A few daisies, a few dandelions, and little else. Ivy has climbed over the walls, and the garden is clearly very ill-tended. The door is dark blue, with a golden knocker, and above it is a small window. Loren tries to peer into the hall, but the glass is frosted so she can make out little but darkness. Taking one last deep breath, she raises her hand, grasps the knocker and knocks loudly, one, two, three times, with a confidence she does not feel. She can hear her rehearsed speech playing over and over in her head.
She strokes the petals of the flowers while she waits, trying to work out the best way to hold them. In front of her chest? Her arms outstretched towards him? Behind her back, so that she can surprise him with them? In the end she simply holds them in the way that feels most natural to her, telling herself firmly that this is silly and Mr Haughton will pay no attention to how she is holding the flowers when he opens the door.
Eventually she hears footsteps from somewhere in the depths of No. 23. Loren tries not to fidget, but the suspense is almost unbearable. The footsteps get louder and louder, until Loren knows that they have reached the hall, and seconds later the door opens. Loren smiles warmly. She is not prepared for Mr Haughton's expression when he sees her standing in the doorway: at first he scowls as if he hates the mere sight of her; then he seems to wake up and gives her a nervous smile.
Loren is slightly shaken by such a reception, but she tries not to let it put her off. She holds out the flowers.]
Loren: Hello, er, Sobert. I-I wanted to say I'm really sorry for the, um, the other day. I do hope-that is, I-
[Loren gulps nervously. She hopes she has not messed up. Mr Haughton surveys her carefully as she flounders, unsure of what to do and half-wishing she could turn around and run back to her house. He stops her. "I think you'd better come in," he says with deliberation, taking the flowers. Loren's desperacy turns into gratitude.]
Loren: Yes, I think so too.
[Mr Haughton leads Loren through the hall and into a high-ceilinged sitting room. There is a rather lavish sofa and a couple of friendly armchairs. Loren takes an armchair, knowing that if she sits on the sofa Mr Haughton will sit next to her. It seems this was correct, because she notices that Mr Haughton looks a little put-out as he sits down in the armchair opposite.
By this point Loren has built up enough confidence to finish what she was saying. She faces him, and tries to make sure that her gaze does not falter.]
Loren: I hope we can still be friends.
[When Mr Haughton makes no reply, Loren improvises an extension to her speech-one which expresses her feelings a little more accurately, and is more heart-felt than the former part of her speech.]
Loren: I'm really sorry, but I did mean what I said in the foodshop. But you shouldn't take it personally. I can't love another man in my whole life-it isn't just you. But I desperately need you to forgive me, and be friends with me again. Because-because I don't got no one else, not anymore.
[Loren feels the tears coming, and wipes her eyes. She proceeds to relate what happened five days ago to Mr Haughton, who sits forward in his armchair and listens attentively.]
Loren: You were right about the law. They came, two men, officials I think-I slapped one of 'em, the one what was trying to be nice. The other made no attempt at all. He wasn't afraid to show what he thought of me.
We spoke a while, without Novica-I sent her up to her room, mostly so she could gather her thoughts cuz of course this was a big shock for her. I tried to tempt the men with various deals, and I think it would've worked if it wasn't for the meaner one. Bryon, they called him. Iron Bryon. And he knew when I was lying, and told the other one, Mirtin, the greedy one who was way more susceptible to my tricks.
So then I tried to scare them by saying the rumours were true, that I really did kill Edwerd Ling, and if they took Novie I'd kill them, too. 'Course, I didn't mean it. But once again, Iron Bryon knew I was lying and told Mirtin and just like that I'd lost. They took Novica. I think it took a little while for the two of us to react, and realise that we were really getting separated. Then we both started screaming, and I promised her I'd rescue her from whatever childerling-home she got taken to, and I told her I loved her.
And then they took her, and ever since then I've been all alone. I think I'm going mad, too.
[Loren didn't mean to disclose this many of her various emotions to Mr Haughton, but it seems it was the right thing to do. He is not looking at her quite as coldly as he was when she first came in. Loren looks at him imploringly, and he knows well that she needs help, and is not sure whether to give it. Eventually he says, "I'm glad you told me." There is an awkward silence. "It is true. I do love you. But I suppose I'm willing to-" He pauses. Loren nods.]
Loren: I know. You're willing to let me go. Cuz I do need your help. I don't got no one else. I'm going to rescue Novie, but I can't do it alone. And also-another thing. I want me and Novie to escape to the wilderness once I've rescued her.
[Mr Haughton blinks. "You're leaving?" he exclaims. This changes everything. He has half a mind to send her away. He won't help her in a scheme that will end with her leaving the city. Of course, he could ask to go with her. But in his heart he knows she will say no. For Sobert Haughton, it is one thing being rejected by a girl, and another never getting to see that girl again. "But I love you," he says stupidly, tears clogging his throat.]
Loren: Yes, and I wish I could do something else. But I've thought it all out, and it's the only way me and Novie are ever going to be happy. Someone like you-you couldn't even imagine what it's like for people to scowl at you everywhere you go, to be shunned and treated like dirt, to be hated, to be feared. You don't even know how I'm constantly on the edge of losing it. You don't know how hard it is to bear.
It's damn horrible. I could never be happy, living like this in this city. I could only be happy in a world with no people but me and Novie, because I can't trust no one else. Not even you. You should've seen the way you looked at me when you opened the door. Like you loathed the very sight of me.
[There is silence as Mr Haughton looks down, ashamed. Desperately, he tries to explain. "Look, it's not that I hate you, I don't and you know that-only, whenever I see you now it reminds me of how we will never be together, and it makes me feel even more wretched to know that there's nothing I can do about it." Now it is Loren's turn to feel ashamed, to wonder if perhaps loving Mr Haughton would not be betraying Werd after all.
But it makes her too upset to think that Werd could be watching her from wherever the dead go, loving her still but knowing that she loves another. Loren feels that the very idea is disrespectful to the memory of her sweetheart, and yet at this very moment Werd and Mr Haughton are having a game of tug-of-war, where she is the rope. She turns away.]
Loren: I don't know-you must see I don't know what I can do to make you feel any better! Werd is-he's still-please help me. Novie's gone, everyone's leaving me at the moment and I just need one person I can rely on, who's on my side. Look at me.
[Mr Haughton reluctantly looks up at Loren, wincing in the fire of her gaze.]
Loren: Will you be that person, or not? Cuz if not, I'd better just go, I think.
["Don't go!" Mr Haughton cries impulsively. "I'll help you. I promise." Loren does not look impressed, so he continues. "I don't know about taking Novica from the childerling-home-that sounds reckless and quite risky, and I don't want you to put yourself in danger. But I think I may have something that will help the two of you escape from Ling-undetected, entirely safe and unharmed."
Loren sits up in her chair, all her frustration replaced with pure curiosity.]
Loren: What is it?
[Mr Haughton pauses, as if wondering whether he is allowed to tell Loren this, and if he is, how he should explain his idea. "My cousling," he begins, his mind made up. "My cousling is an engineer. A talented one too. He went to Ling university, to which only fifty people are admitted every year. After he graduated, he decided he wanted to be self-employed, and he fixes various home appliances for people.
"A talented individual, as I said. Because, in the background-" Loren cuts in impatiently; she has no idea where this is going or how it applies to her.]
Loren: Yes, yes, but I don't see how any of this is going to help me and Novie escape from Ling. What can your cousling do for us, Sobert?
["I was just getting to that," explains Mr Haughton, a glimmer in his eye. "In the background my cousling has been working on his own little project-and it's a secret one, mind. Only his wifeling and myself know of it, and if the Lings found out about it he could get in a lot of trouble indeed.
"Even now he is not sure why he started on this project, but he is committed to it, and it is nearly finished. When he started it he told me he had felt that at some point it would serve some kind of a purpose, not for himself, but for another. I thought it bizarre at the time, but now I think I understand."
He looks curiously at Loren for a moment. "For ten years, my cousling has been building a spaceship." And he watches Loren carefully to see her reaction.]
Loren: Oh, but that's-that's perfect! Yes, perfect! I never imagined-that is, I'd had the idea before of Novie and me leaving not only Ling but the whole entire planet, because space is infinite, right, and that means the Lings would have a very hard time finding us. But I just couldn't see where we'd get a spaceship from, and how we'd get food and water and the like, how we'd survive up there.
But if your cousling's making one and nearly finished it, then maybe-d'you think he'd be willing to give it to us? Cuz if he did... oh, it's like all my dreams come true! Yes, yes, yes!
[She looks at Mr Haughton with such a joyful expression that he cannot help but smile in return, and he feels with a tinge of relief the wall between them break down. This is his Loren, and for the first time he does not care that she does not love him: he is only glad that they have become such good friends, and realises he should always have been content with that. After all, Loren is a recluse and the only people in the city she is on close terms with are himself and Novica. For the first time, this makes him feel very happy indeed.
"Actually," he tells her, "my cousling doesn't know what he's going to do with the spaceship when it's finished, so he'll be all too happy to give it to you. He thinks it's just going to live out it's days in his large shed, never to be flown, so giving it to you and your sisling would give it a life, and that would please him. I don't think he'll mind that he's put ten years of work into it only to give it away-he's not that sort of person. As long as someone gets good use out of it, I'm sure he'll be happy."
Loren surprises him then, by leaping from her chair, running to him and capturing him in a firm embrace, which she holds for a few moments. After he has gotten over the shock of it, he returns the hug, and immediately knows he has done the right thing. Most importantly, he has won back Loren's favour to the extent that she is hugging him. He knows that it is only a friendly hug, but in the moment that does not matter.]
Loren: I want to say I love you-oh, I do love you, if only as a friend. You have made me so happy, and I know Novie'll love you too when she finds out.
[Loren gently pulls out of the hug. Mr Haughton has his eyes closed, as if Loren's embrace has put him into some kind of a trance. She laughs.]
Loren: You liked that, didn't you?
["Very much," he says quietly. Then he opens his eyes. "Loren, you've got to promise me something."]
Loren: Yes?
[Mr Haughton puts his hand on Loren's shoulder. "That when you're up there, surrounded by-you know, galaxies, stars and space-y stuff you'll-you'll remember me. I know I'll never forget you. But I know that, compared to the world, compared to you, even, I am nothing. I am very small. You'll see things I could only dream of. And you might forget about every other bit of this planet because really, your life's only just started. But don't forget me. I'll be thinking of you."]
Loren: There are some things I know I'll never forget, and you're one of them. Maybe I'll even wish I stayed in Ling and married you, cuz damn, I don't think I'm gonna find a better man than you where I'm going. Might meet a few aliens, I suppose, but that's not the point. My aim in life is not to love; I abandoned that idea long ago, and now all of my love is reserved for Novie.
But I would like to remember people, good people, like you, cuz there ain't many good people in Ling. I'm gonna remember you for the rest of my life, Sobert, after what you've done for me.
[Loren pulls away from him then, and looks with sudden intensity out of the window. Mr Haughton was planning to express to her how happy he felt knowing that she would think of him, even when infinitely far from him. But he is shaken by her sudden movement, and the only thing he can think of to say is, "What's the matter?" Loren does not look at him, and instead keeps staring at the window. Eventually she speaks.]
Loren: I'm sorry. I thought I saw someone moving out there, and suddenly thought someone could very easily spy on us. We're very conspicuous here.
["If you're worried by my reputation, that's not important to me," says Mr Haughton. "I don't mind anyone seeing me with you. That's not a problem. It would only be if someone was eavesdropping-if the Lings get wind of your plan to escape with Novica, that's where we'd be in trouble."]
Loren: I hope it wasn't. They'd probably kill all of us for it-me, you, Novica and your cousling. But it was probably nothing. I think I'm just paranoid. What's your cousling's name, by the way?
[Another piece of information Mr Haughton is somewhat reluctant to give up to Loren. But he does so nevertheless. "He's called Henree. I'll contact him after you've left, tell him the particulars of your situation, and I'm sure he'll give you the spaceship once it's finished." Loren finally stops looking at the window and sits back down in her armchair.]
Loren: It's very kind of you. And Henree. I was just wondering; does he know of me and Novie already? Cuz if he does, he might not want to give up his spaceship to a rumoured murderer.
[Mr Haughton thinks about this for a moment, but decides that he can trust Henree with the true story of the death of Edwerd Ling. "Oh, we've had one or two conversations about Loren Seen," he recalls to Loren, hoping to assure her of his cousling's honesty, "and I think we agreed that you were probably just misunderstood. Like myself, Henree only half-believed the rumours, but enough to say he'd steer clear of you if he happened to pass you in the street.
"And remember, this is nothing against you, Loren. Most city folk think much worse things of you than Henree does. If you let me tell him what really happened to Edwerd Ling, I'm sure he'll swallow the story up easily, and after he's met you once or twice I'm sure he'll trust you completely. And no, once he knows you're not a murderer, he won't refuse to give you his spaceship."]
Loren: Thank you, that's reassuring.
[Loren seems subdued for a reason he cannot place his finger on, and now she stands up and puts out her hand, which he shakes readily. She looks out of the window again, but this time her expression shows no hint of alarm.]
Loren: I really should be going now. It's getting late. But thank you for this-it's good knowing I've got someone I can talk to again. And as for the spaceship offer, well, I feel more lucky than I have ever before in my life. So thank you again. And also, remember I'll never forget you.
[Very gently, in a way she hopes cannot be seen as romantic, Loren stands up and walks over to Mr Haughton, where she presses her lips against his cheek and gives him a tender kiss. Mr Haughton admits to himself afterwards that it was the best afternoon he'd had in a long time. Now, he looks into her eyes, and sees beautiful spheres which twinkle like stars, and are showing him all the love he could ever hope to receive from her now, and he smiles. "I'll remember," he whispers.
Then he remembers himself and says, "Would you like me to escort you to the door?"]
Loren: If it's convenient.
["All too convenient. I don't have anything else to do." Mr Haughton stands and hand in hand they leave the sitting room and enter the hall where Loren puts on her dark red leather boots. Mr Haughton realises something he should have said to Loren when he first saw her standing in his doorway. "You look beautiful today," he says, taking in the red silky dress, the jewelled brooch, Loren's tight bun. He wonders if she did this specially because she was going to see him.]
Loren: Thank you!
[Loren wants to tell him that she never looks beautiful, but then she thinks that sometimes a compliment should be left alone, and for a second she really believes that what he has said is true. Then Mr Haughton opens the front door with a flourish, and Loren steps out under the late afternoon sun.
"You can come and see me again if you need anything," Mr Haughton calls, as she opens the gate. "I won't forget this. Bye, Loren."]
Loren: Bye, Sobert.
[Loren closes the gate behind her, and steps out across the road, thinking how nice it will be to be in a familiar house again. As she walks into her front garden she hears a door quietly close from across the road. As she fumbles for her keys she laughs to herself.]
Loren: (He must've been watching me this whole time! It makes me really sad actually. He loves me in the romantic way, and I can only love him in the way a friend loves a friend. Sometimes I hate myself for it. It would be so damn easy to just love him back, maybe even marry him. He's in his early twenties, I think, so no big age gap. But no. I can't. For Werd. Oh, Werd.)
[Finding her keys, Loren unlocks her front door and steps into her house, locking the door behind her. She sinks down onto the floor and lets out a breath she did not realise she had been holding. All of a sudden she feels overwhelmingly tired, and has an intense desire to wrap herself in her duvet and go to sleep.
So she kicks off her boots and climbs the stairs. When she reaches her bedroom she collapses on her bed, but finds she cannot sleep. There are too many noisy thoughts in her head, she decides. So instead she gets into bed, pulls her duvet around herself and thinks over these thoughts until they go away. They mostly concern Sobert Haughton and the spaceship, and are not of much interest. But even once those smaller thoughts are all gone, there are still two larger, nagging thoughts that will not go away. Loren realises she needs to say them out loud.]
Loren: Surrounded by galaxies, stars and space-y stuff. What'll it be like? Thrilling? Terrifying? Surrounded by infinity. It's a damn weird thought. Cut off from everyone 'cept Novie, speeding past planets and asteroids and comets and whatever else you get out there. Galaxies, stars and space-y stuff. Galaxies, stars and space-y stuff. Where nothing don't matter.
[Satisfied that she has dealt with that thought, she turns to the scarier, more pressing thought which promises to keep her up all night. There is no way of banishing it from her head like there was with the other thoughts. But Loren hopes that maybe she can tame this wild thought, make it quieter, and she does this by whispering gentle words to it-tuneless lullabies.]
Loren: Shh. It's ok. You're ok. Nothing don't matter where you come from. Nothing don't matter. There's nothing to worry about. You can just close you eyes and relax. Let yourself be quiet. Silent even. Just open yourself up, and then close up again, open, close. Breathe evenly. Deep breaths. Deep breaths.
[Loren is not even sure if she is talking to the thought anymore, or herself. This continues for a few minutes before she realises with a sinking feeling that the thought is shouting just as loudly as it was before. That is when she gives in.]
Loren: Oh, Novie. Oh, Novie. Are you alive right now? Where are you? Are you safe? Do you miss me? Cuz I sure miss you. Oh, Novie. Are they doing very bad things to you? I'll kill them if they are. I love you Novie I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you... what are you thinking? Are you thinking that you love me?
You're my angel. My anchor. And they took you from me, those monsters, those devils from Hell. I'm gonna bring you back to me, Novie. I'm gonna find you and get you. I'll do it, Novie. Cuz I love you. I love you. Novie!