A Self-Study Within A Broken Mind

I came back a week or so later. My time was spent writing other things, from Voltra to Anton and Moira . They were stories for a younger generation, each weaving problems of future strife they had to overcome without notice. I stepped into the library in physical form. It was nice to be here where heat was not. My reality was experiencing those last few days of summer heat before the burst into the fall season. Sleep in 100% humidity at 80 degrees Fahrenheit was a struggle, but it was all at an end. Before long, rains would proliferate the sky day and night. The library was empty, as it often was. The space was big, and the people who sometimes occupied it were few. When Rebecca divided herself into ten separate versions of herself, it felt lively in the library. Not to mention that the library was actually a flying vessel back then. I could still put the building into that mode, but I feared creating another world populated with the things I gathered from the ivy. That thinking almos...

I came back to the tablet a few days later, another night arriving too late for any real conversation with Lila. I was afraid of being there longer. She was receiving the raw version of me, and would know my past in what was to come. I arrived at the small room, but she was there again. The library just up the spiral staircase was no doubt empty again. Lila was sprawled out on the couch, playing with lights floating above her. It was something of a juggle. The blue lights fell the fastest, but as she tapped each, they changed color and either slowed their descent or started to rise at varying speeds. The yellow ones were the fastest to rise, bouncing off the ceiling and changing to a color of descending tone. “Hey,” I said, stepping into form beside the couch. Lila sat up, face in various lights moving up and down at contact with her face. A few scattered into the room, hovering slowly to the ground. “I’m sorry that I haven’t been back in a bit. I figured when I come back, we should ge...