CADO [DISCONTINUED]

= Ch 12: Terrible Things =

We walk side by side down the bustling streets, kicking dirt.

"So I can't have a harem?"

"I'd prefer not."

"I'm kidding, I swear." He laughs stiffly.

"You'd better be," I mutter.

My attention turns back to the surroundings, giving it the support it needs. Shiny storefronts with cluttered windows and fresh paint line the road. Before them, vendors cluster the street, pitching all odds and ends of goods.

One vendor gives a demonstration of his latest mechanical prosthetic. His subject dances and juggles for a wondrous crowd that oo-s and aa-s at each athletic display. A frantic woman pushes through the crowd to the businessman, carrying a one-armed toddler with her.

Jesse stares. "Woahhh! That's —"

"Shh, I'm focusing. One second."

"Oh," he whispers, "sorry."

Another vendor down the street sells moving toys out of a tall, narrow stand. With a set of beaten-up goggles resting on her forehead, she tinkers with the broken key of one of her wind-up trains, harassed by a sea of kids who pilot exhausted parents.

Jesse looks to me. "This is a lot of detail."

"I know."

"Can I take some of it?"

I pause. "Take?"

"Like, take control. You're still controlling everything. We need to work on splitting control from now on."

Control. Giving him control? What if he doesn't focus well enough? What if...No, no. This is a problem. He held the boat together on his own before.

I force myself to agree. "Ah, right. Could you focus on the street stands while I maintain the shops?"

He nods. My gut cringes in uncertainty, but I still shift my focus off of the street stands. One by one, they fade out. As he steps in, they reappear as gray, blobby shapes. The people working it slowly assemble themselves out of senseless blobs. Within a few moments, all of them look like... actually, they look like normal people.

Jesse grins. "See? No problemo."

On the verge of uncontainable excitement, I realize that all of the vendors look exactly the same. All my work! A piece of the puzzle gone missing - gray people in looping animations, as if we were in a shitty browser RPG. The liveliness in the air runs stale.

Something in my chest deflates, but still, I nod, trying to keep a cheery demeanor. "Good work! You've gotten good at making people."

"Thanks," he hums. "So, what now? We just... enjoy ourselves or something?"

"I guess. But I think we should try to keep a plot going."

"Why?"

"Why'd you come back if you don't want a plot?" I ask.

"Ah, shut up. Don't give me that."

"I'm genuinely curious."

"Blah blah blah — whatever."

"Jesse."

"Blaah."

I set my jaw. "I make plots because they create meaning in a place like this. Do you really want to ditch that?"

"Hey, if you want it that badly, fine. Just don't harp on me about it. What'll it be?"

I blink, surprised at the lack of resistance.