Alex Reynard
The Library
Alex Reynard's Online Books
Chapter 76
And then he was sliding backwards through a cramped, sweltering tunnel, emerging into blinding light while screaming.
Toby flailed blindly in the dirt. Threads of hot mucus embraced him like arachnopus silk. Air flooded into him, blasting open his lungs. His eyes felt like charcoal. He had no idea where he was and his brain registered nothing but panic.
"It's a boy!" L'roon announced.
The construct's booming laughter shook the air. He wiped his gummy mouth off with a napkin and bent to do the same for Toby. Unsurprisingly, the mouse fought back like he was being bushwhacked. "Calmness and relaxation, small sir! You are out now! We are almost at the market! Open your eyes and see!"
"I can't!" the mouse shrieked. "Too bright!"
Toby felt claws scraping at the sides of his head and whooped in terror. Then, when something touched the bridge of his muzzle, he realized L'roon had slipped a pair of sunglasses on him.
"Better?"
Toby reluctantly peeked past his eyelids. The light still scratched his corneas like phoenix talons, but it was slightly more bearable now. "Th-thank you."
L'roon patted him on the head. "I'm pleased to see the experience didn't drive you insane. Isolation can do things to a soul, you know. Rise and shine, Toby! We are here!"
Spindly arms were yanking him to his feet with great enthusiasm. Toby noticed L'roon had never sounded so chipper. "I'm guessing you liked my blood?"
"IMMENSELY!!" L'roon roared. "Taking nourishment from trade is fine, but I'd forgotten the primitive satisfaction of BLOOD! Mmmmm! The salty, coppery, livingness of your red wine, my dear friend! Scrumptious!!"
Toby was lowered back to the ground. He began plucking strings of gut-grease off his clothes and fur. Fur! Toby squeaked in surprise as he looked down at his fuzzy white legs. "Hey! It grew back!" He'd been bald as a bug when they'd left Scarlatina.
"You look better in snow than sunset," L'roon complimented. "Also, there will be showers available just inside the market limits."
"Best news all day." Toby gave up trying to de-gunk himself. He was practically cocooned anyway. The thought of nice warm water and frothy soap made him smile. "I think I'm actually feeling okay now. I mean, aside from being sticky all over and kinda blind. I did a lot of thinking in there. I might have even nailed down some solid ideas on what to do next after we find George."
"Better and better!" L'roon said heartily. He whapped Toby across the chest. "See!? See my skill at arranging deals where both parties benefit?"
Toby gave him a sidelong look. "I've got stomach-slime all over me. I'm not delighted. But... yes, I admit, the time alone with my thoughts helped." He checked his internal workings. The tightness of his anxiety still hadn't left, even though his sleep had been surprisingly restful. He now felt a pulsing need to busy himself. Doubt and fear still bubbled below in the cauldron of his gut. Action would keep him from sinking back into despair.
L'roon handed Toby back his shoes. "Are you sturdy enough to walk yet? Do you need a moment?"
Toby tried taking a step. His legs felt stiff, as he hadn't used them in... "How long was I in you?"
"Three days, as mentioned before. Though actually a little less. I felt very energized."
Toby grimaced. That meant three more days in which George could have been sold to someone else. Three more days of Scaphis gaining power. A tentacle of despair rose up and he mentally kicked it back down. "Let's just head in and get started."
"But of course." L'roon reached out to push some branches aside.
Toby had been disgorged in the midst of a foreboding clump of foliage. To a completely color blind individual, this forest might have looked fairly normal. Anyone else would get seasick. The leaves and bushes and tree trunks were all grotesquely wrong colors. Ugly oranges, yellows, and purples. Lots of black. The colors made Toby think of a Halloween party seen through a drunkard's eyes.
Though just ahead was a solid wall of aurora borealis.
Though his eyes were tender after so long in the dark, he'd also been standing a quarter mile from an unfathomable lightshow. An inverted waterfall, shimmering, climbing all the way up to the sky. The colors were soothing pinks, blues, violets, and greens. Exactly as beautiful as the forest was hideous. It was mind-boggling that the two areas could exist side-by-side.
Toby felt puny in comparison to this heavenly light. It curved, cutting through the forest in an area roughly city-sized. The bars of light shifted in and out like piano keys in slow motion. The rippling colors chased each other with no hurry. His mouth hung open, unable to put words to the awe he was feeling.
"Ingenious, isn't it?" L'roon said fondly. "I don't know if our eyes are seeing the same thing, but I find it quite pretty myself."
"Yes..." Toby whispered. "It's incredible." And very welcome, too. After having lived through so much ugliness, such a dazzling display was like a shower for his soul.
"A fortunate accident, really. An imperfect refraction. You'll soon see its true purpose once we get closer." L'roon led the way, using his arms and sheer bulk to bulldoze the plants. "By the way, keep your senses keen. Now that you are outside of me, other less-friendly constructs might notice you."
Toby hadn't thought about that. He did a quick check of his surroundings. Nothing seemed to be moving, though the trees were so thick it was difficult to tell.
He flashed back to his days in the cave. So paralyzed with fear of beasts that it was nearly a week before he dared to make a run for food. Now here he was in a strange place and the thought of local monstrosities hadn't even crossed his mind. He scolded himself for not paying attention.
But then he reconsidered. 'Maybe I've had enough Phobiopolis experience to not need to care so much.'
He flexed his stumpy fingers. If something did try to pounce out of the leaves at him, it'd get a forehead full of jackhammer.
Squeezing through some frightful puce bushes, Toby snapped to alertness when he saw someone approaching. Then he was abruptly reminded of Aldridge's front yard.
L'roon smiled at himself and tidied his outfit. "Now do you see?"
Toby walked towards the other white mouse. "I see me." He was still bone-skinny, but at least his fur had grown back in properly. No patchy places. The clothes from K&K still looked sharp on him. And suddenly he remembered that he already knew their names. 'Kay and Kaye! That's right!' He felt a little burst of happy energy inside him at the return of another memory tidbit.
"Phobiopolis did not create this," L'roon said as he approached the borealis border. "The market has been here for a long, long time, but their defenses used to be much cruder. This is an elegant solution. They have no more problems repelling nightmares now. Can you guess why that would be?"
Toby was about to shrug, when he saw the answer in his own eyes. "...Because constructs ignore other constructs! They see themselves, get confused, and walk away!"
L'roon nodded. "Well done."
Toby was about to walk towards his reflection, but memories of lost fingertips made him recoil and shudder. He decided to wait for L'roon to go in first. "If it's such a good idea, why don't all the cities do it?"
The peddler shrugged. "It is new. Lalochezia's shopkeepers were inspired by stories of the blue sky atop Ectopia Cordis. Plus, once a system is already in place, people are reluctant to risk a change. Take Coryza, for example."
"Allright. So then-"
L'roon put a hand on his shoulder, then gestured for him to not move quickly.
Toby turned his head. A few meters back, standing on stilts, was a nightmare that looked like a pineapple split down the middle. Its whole armored torso was a giant eyeless mouth, held up by four antelope legs. Its lips and teeth were enormous. It froze when Toby spotted it: a predator hoping its prey's vision is based on movement.
"Let's go inside," L'roon whispered.
"Fantastic idea," Toby whispered back.
The merchant grabbed a few handfuls of Toby's vest and escorted him through the illusion.
***
...Into a refugee camp.
Toby was stunned by the abrupt change in temperature, humidity, and overall atmosphere. But he was equally unsettled by the enormous amount of huddled people surrounding him. Mostly children, like anywhere in Phobiopolis. Everyone looked weary and barely awake. Many held small bags or backpacks close to them. A few had lean-tos for shade. Many were lying down and staring at the sky like they couldn't find the energy for anything else. It was as if part of Scarlatina's ocean had washed up here.
"Quickly," L'roon barked. Still clutching Toby's vest, he hurried the mouse along through the crowd. The construct's massive abdomen bumped several people out of the way, but he did not pause to apologize.
"Hey!" Toby said. "That's rude!"
"They will be ruder if we let them," L'roon snapped.
All around, heads began turning in the direction of the mouse and merchant. Hungry eyes looked upon them, ringed with sleepless bags. The ragged people began to crawl across the purple dirt towards the newcomers, moving in slow motion. Their faces were lined with misery like the weathered planks of sunken ships.
A raccoon who looked somewhere between eleven and eighty held his hands out to L'roon. "Please..."
"I have no free samples!!" the construct hissed as he rushed past. He kept his head glued forward, never looking back. He didn't even check to see if his cart was running over anyone.
Toby was horrified at L'roon's callousness, but on some level he had to admit, the refugees were scaring him too. The way they stared at him. Like he was their only hope of salvation. Like they might rip the clothes right off his body if they got close enough. "Who are they!?"
"They fled from Papilloma when Scaphis destroyed it. I can't believe so many of them are still here! Inexcusable laziness!" L'roon held tight to the mouse as he plowed through the needy masses. His lips were pulled back in a hateful scowl. Many hands reached out to his cart, trying to slow the wheels, but L'roon pulled harder.
Finally the duo passed some kind of invisible line that the refugees seemed afraid to cross. They relented, still staring at the backs of the construct and mouse. Now with hatred and disappointment.
Toby looked over his shoulder. He had never seen such intense desperation in all his life. He was about to ask L'roon more questions, when the construct let go of his vest, then turned around to inspect his cart.
"I knew it! I should have seen it coming! Those insects stole everything that wasn't nailed down! All of it, vanished!" He turned and shook five fists at the refugees. "PARASITES!!!"
Someone in the crowd leapt up and flashed double middle fingers back.
L'roon snorted in cold laughter. "See!? That one shows initiative! Why can't you all be more like him!?"
Toby tugged at the merchant's arms. "Jesus Christ, L'roon! Aren't you overreacting!? They're suffering, it's obvious. You lost a few knick-knacks! So what!? You've still got plenty!"
L'roon turned and narrowed his eyes at Toby, who remembered just how much larger than him the construct was. "I do not like being stolen from under any circumstances."
"That's understandable, but..." Toby took a step back. "You could have a bit of empathy."
"Empathy, I have. But only to a point. These people were here last time. They've had a month to move on. Instead they lie here, without food, without possessions, without will, hoping that someone will swoop in to mother them. They take no responsibility for their own lives!"
Toby's timid posture changed. He glared back into L'roon's silver eyes. He replied, quietly but firmly, "I was like that a while ago. It takes time to grow out of."
The merchant's long neck pulled back. He considered Toby's words. Then he looked back at the crowd. "I do not believe there is ever a time when your own tribulations justify the theft of others' property."
Toby couldn't stop himself. "Isn't that exactly how you got started?"
L'roon opened his mouth. Closed it. Waited a moment for his temper to pass. Then he calmed, and a begrudging respect entered his smile. He patted Toby's shoulder. "This is why I would have liked to have shared conversation all through our journey. You challenge me."
Toby chuckled in nervous relief, glad that L'roon hadn't bitten his head off. "Sorry if I was a bit of a smartass there, but I thought you were being kinda, well..."
"Uncharitable," L'roon acknowledged. "And, yes. But charity is not my nature. Someone else will eventually come forth to aid these sad people, or they will rise and help themselves. I will remain neutral. They can have my 'knick-knacks'. It was partly my own fault for leaving them unsecured."
Toby figured that was as much conciliation as he was likely to get. "Allright."
"Would you like for me to show you the showers?"
"Yes!" Toby immediately agreed, forgetting all else.
Although, as he followed L'roon away, he couldn't help but look back again at the flood of refugees. Their dusty clothes. The way their gazes drilled into blank space as if their souls had run out of fuel. Toby realized now how horrible their fate was. They'd taken sanctuary in this market town, but of course, everything here was for sale. And they looked like they'd all run from Papilloma with whatever they'd been able to grab on the way out. Now they had nothing. They couldn't starve, but they couldn't do anything else either. Purgatory.
"Scaphis did this to them, didn't she? She took their home, and..." Toby's voice faltered.
L'roon replied, "Papilloma was a small settlement just beside the wall of Phlegmasia, in the place where nightmares do not tread. Though they did not know the name of their destroyer, I have heard it called by others The Plastic Storm. If we extrapolate correctly about its origin, we can assume she has every soul inside the maze engulfed as well."
Toby felt a weight on his heart, imagining so many people caught, entwined, turned into statues. If Scaphis had done this, it was because he'd let her out. He had freed her from the mirror-forest, then brought her within reach of Aldridge's power. Toby knew Scaphis had tricked him as Doll. She'd fooled everyone. So he knew, rationally, he did not need to feel guilt or responsibility for what she had done now that she was unleashed.
He felt it anyway.
***
Toby lost himself in the sensations of the shower. They were public and open. Rows of pipes grew out of the ground like giraffe necks. The cool water was so nice that Toby was able to ignore the multitudes of naked Phobiopolans all around him. Nothing else mattered. For this slim moment, as he lathered up himself and his outfit, he was completely at peace.
He emerged refreshed, and gave Lalochezia an assessment.
In many ways other than the showers, it reminded him of Stoma. The dirt here was the same dark, mulberry color. The buildings were short, but not nearly as ramshackle. Tall trees soared up, encircling the town. Palms. He wondered if they had something to do with the aurora outside. The air here was dry and pleasantly warm. The sky was blue and bright. Toby wondered how much of that was illusion as well.
Countless pushcarts zoomed like racecars. The streets were laid out like a miniature suburbia, and the buildings served a dual purpose. Colorful storefronts drew customers in, while the owners lived modestly in back. A literal market town. Most of the houseshops were tiny, but he did see a few restaurants, grocery stores, and wholesalers that took up bigger plots.
Most surprisingly, the place wasn't nearly as crowded as he expected it to be. The town certainly looked festive enough at first glance, almost like a state fair. But the longer Toby looked, the more he saw the word 'closed'. Boarded-over doors and windows. Rolled-up awnings. 'For Sale' signs plagued front lawns like weeds.
There were enough customers milling around to create a bustle, but Toby had a feeling the streets would've normally been packed. A lot of people seemed to just be browsing. Window shopping. Only a few were carrying shopping bags. It reminded him of when he was little and his mother had taken him to a mall that was on the verge of closing. It was so empty he could have rolled a bowling ball from one end to the other and not tripped anyone. Lalochezia was not nearly that bad, but it was on the road there.
Toby sought out L'roon. Thankfully easy to spot, ordering drinks at a nearby bar.
The merchant sipped at something the color of Arizona. When Toby walked up, he placed a paper umbrella behind the mouse's ear. "Finished?"
Toby was about to swat the frilly decoration away, but then thought 'what the heck' and let it stay. He nodded. "That was definitely nice. Oh, and you can have these back." He handed over the sunglasses.
"Thank you. I was about to charge you for them."
Toby didn't know if he was kidding. "Ha ha. Ready to go?"
L'roon nodded, then drained the rest of his drink in a gulp. "Absolutely. The quicker we start, the more time I have for potioncraft. Assuming the deal is still on?"
"Correct," Toby said without hesitation. In a way, getting the potion before getting George was like affirming a foregone conclusion. He had to find George, because otherwise the potion would be pointless, and the potion couldn't be pointless because he was going to use it on George. Cause and effect didn't work that way, but the idea helped to psych him up regardless.
L'roon set his glass down, tossed a nod to the barman, and left without tipping. Toby followed the merchant as he sauntered down the middle of the street, waving at people and letting them know he was back in town. A few rushed over to buy from him, and the construct belatedly remembered to slap a sign on his cart: NOT OPEN YET. There were disappointed reactions, but L'roon was quick to assure everyone he'd be eager to deal tomorrow.
Toby passed boutiques, cafes, junk shops, and greasy spoons. Some of the wares looked resale, others handmade. Others were too new and modern to have been anything but imaginite-created. Lalochezia had a definite 'anything goes' vibe. A citywide garage sale. Some people were ushering in customers while others did yardwork. Toby spotted willwells in a few places and felt relieved. He had nothing to trade with if he saw something interesting, but he thought he could spare a bit of willpower.
Besides the shops and shoppers, Toby noticed something else: the streets were conspicuously clean. No litter anywhere. 'Wait, there's a pile of diapers just lying by the side of-' Toby flinched when a pushcart passed too close to the pile and they all scampered off on tiny legs. 'Diaperats!' Toby remembered them from the mirror-forest. 'Huh. Maybe they eat up the garbage, same as the pigs around Ectopia.' He kept his eye out for more of them. A little girl dropped her taco wrapper and a diaperat lunged out from behind a hedge to cram it in its mouth. 'Hey, I was right!'
A fellow mouse walked by. A pleasantly-pudgy female with warm grey fur. She tipped Toby a playful wink. Thrice, actually. He did a double-take when he realized she had two extra faces at the ends of her feet. He smiled back at her. 'I really must be getting used to Phobiopolis,' he thought.
Toby followed behind L'roon until the construct stopped at a purple-painted shop so pungent Toby could smell it from thirty paces. The name was Jazeizal's Intricacies and the odor was a haze of vinegar, dried flowers, and entrails. Toby was not keen on entering without a gasmask. "You sold George here?"
L'roon turned around, looking puzzled. "No, I... Oh! You thought I was leading you to your horse! My apologies, small sir. I had assumed you'd find him on your own."
Toby gnashed his teeth, steaming. "How am I supposed to find anything in a place I've never been to!?"
A patient roll of the eyes, then L'roon pointed across the street to an automated map kiosk.
"Oh."
The construct spoke reasonably. "This is my ingredients supplier. If you want me to brew you a potion, is it not for the best I begin right away?"
Toby felt his stomach clench at the thought of tackling Lalochezia alone. But the construct had a point. There was no good reason for L'roon to waste time babysitting. 'And dammit, I shouldn't need my hand held anymore.' He gave himself a mental cheek-slap and ordered his worries to silence. "Okay. Where should I start looking? And should I just come back here whenever I find him?"
"To answer in order, your destination is the shop of a junk trader named Madame Tif Tif. Old but crafty. That woman's got a convincing tongue as sharp as my own. Watch your pockets around her, lest you spend more than you intend. And yes: I will be either here, or at the bar & grill across the street."
Toby nodded, writing it all down in his memory. "Got it. How long do you think the potion will take?"
A full-body shrug. "I might be busy all night; I might finish in fifteen minutes."
More uncertainties. Toby didn't like it, but there was nothing to be done about it. He shook hands with L'roon. "I'll see you later then. Good luck."
A nod from the merchant. "To you as well."
They parted ways for the afternoon, and Toby walked over to the map machine to begin puzzling out how it worked.
***
He had not found George, but he did find lunch.
The thought of wandering around this chaotic, run down place all by himself made Toby uptight at first, but with a map it wouldn't be too hard, right? The machine required only a few seconds' focus at its mini-willwell before dispensing one. It unfolded to immense size, listing every vendor in town. Toby located Tif Tif, then scanned the map's quadrants until he found her in G16. Of course she was halfway across town. He growled a little. Best to get started. He fought the map back to a folded state and headed out.
He passed a lot of weird shit. Not quite as much as in Ectopia Cordis, but more than enough to make him stop and stare a few times. Even with the streets so empty and so many shops closed, there were still plenty of dubious wares on display. Bushel baskets of fake-looking jewelry. Scuzzy cheap toys. Incomprehensible electronics. Toby saw an eyeball tree from which fresh, leafy eyefruits were being harvested. He saw several parked, gently hovering carpets on leashes. He saw a washtub full of transparent ghost brains suspended in purple liquid. He saw a dunk tank game where people lined up to throw bricks at a puma's head (who seemed tickled pink by this). He saw stacks of cubes that customers were dipping their faces into, just like the memories from Coryza's museum. Toby was tempted to go over and sample some himself, until he saw one girl jerk her head away like she'd just seen her own funeral inside.
Everywhere, street kids ran around pestering people. They'd hard-sell shoppers on whatever junk they'd scavenged, while their pals pickpocketed the living hell out of the poor saps. When no one was around to scam, they'd retire to the side of the road and play a few rounds of don't-stab-your-fingers. Toby kept his distance and tried to look as broke as he actually was.
There were street performers as well. A block away from where people tossed crumbs of imaginite into a violinist's case, two other musicians dueled on electric guitars. One got so into the music, they began bludgeoning the other with their instrument. Then Toby passed a contortionist, a card shark, and two guys with a banjo and a piano playing a jaunty, wistful tune with the most suicidally depressing lyrics Toby had ever heard. The mouse actually covered his ears as he darted away.
But the furson who left the most impression was a bedraggled ocelot who was loudly hum-grunting an intense, haunting melody as if no one around was watching. Toby couldn't help but stare. Just when the feline seemed to be reaching a crescendo, he burst into lyrics:
"I beg the ghosts of space and time,
Prevent me from my greatest crime!
Stop me from revealing I'm-"
And then he vanished.
People stood around in uncomfortable silence for a moment, then a few tossed money into his empty hat and scurried away.
Not twenty feet from this unsettling scene, Toby passed a hot dog cart where wriggling, screeching nightmares were being fed into a grinder and turned into sausage meat.
He passed a barker trumpeting the virtues of a machine that looked for all the world like a bear fucking a lawnmower.
He passed a twenty-foot-tall convorine sculpture made from rusty auto parts.
He passed two scantily-clad women who began slinking up behind him. One said in a sultry voice, "Fuck me for ten-thou? Kill me for twenty?" Toby cringed down to his tailtip. "No thanks!" he squeaked. As he skedaddled, he heard them moan teasingly in disappointment. "Awwww..."
Almost immediately, a shady character sidled up and put a lightning-fast arm around Toby's shoulder. "Hey there, pal!! Wouldn't you like to buy a Ne'er-Do-Well!?"
"Exc-cuse me!?" Toby stammered, flinching away. "What's that?"
The stoat held a thingamabob in front of Toby's nose. "Let's say some shopkeep's fucked you over. Slip this on their willwell and it'll look like it's taking in will but it won't be!" He laughed and slapped his knee. "Now is that perfect payback or what!?"
Toby pried the fellow's arm off. "I wouldn't have any use for one, sorry."
A shrug. "Your loss, buddy-boy!" he cried out, with a pat on the back that sent the mouse stumbling.
A few minutes later, Toby found the 'KICK ME' sign. He rolled his eyes.
A few minutes after that, he found the spot where Madame Tif Tif's boutique was supposed to be. It wasn't. Instead it was a used clothing store. Toby asked inside, but the gum-chewing clerk had never heard the name he was searching for. Toby went back out and started circling the block. He consulted the map five more times, his frustration increasing exponentially.
He realized he was getting too worked up to think clearly. He picked the most normal-looking restaurant nearby and headed in for a bite.
Poubelle & After's had no walls, just a checkered tile floor and an open kitchen. The sign floated above the diner in slow rotation, showing a logo with the two smiling cartoon faces of its proprietors. Customers ate while watching the duo whip up meals. Dinner and a show.
Poubelle was a perpetually-smiling squirrel with a bit of a pot belly. Her fur was a consistent indigo from top to bottom, even her eyes (Even her teeth!). After was a sandy bat in a button-down vest with tall ears and a humongous noseleaf. His eyes were fixed on his work with total focus as he ran in circles between the grill and burners.
Toby seated himself in a cozy little wrought iron chair. Poubelle scooted over within seconds, chipper as a spring afternoon. "What'll it be, sugarpie?" She pressed a menu into his paws.
"Um..." She hadn't given him much time. He scanned the listed items, and while all the pictures looked good, a lot of the names were so heavy with local slang he couldn't decipher them. Clown Pudding for instance, or Babaguuscooties.
She could tell at a glance he was an out-of-towner. "Look over yonder. See that big mound my partner's chippin' away at?"
Toby couldn't help but be stunned at the sight of the single largest slab of imaginite he'd ever laid eyes on.
"That's where we make our ingredients. But the food itself's fresh and homemade. Substitutions are a breeze, donchaworry."
Toby smiled at the idea. "Sounds like the best of both worlds between a thoughtstaurant and a regular 'raunt."
She beamed. "Just the idea!"
He looked over the menu again. "I have absolutely no idea what I want and everything looks good. Any recommendations?"
"Hmm. You look like you could use a full tank. Ever had a monte cristo?" She pointed to a photo of a dauntingly huge sandwich.
Toby was mildly terrified by the fried behemoth, but his salivating mouth decided for him. "Not until today."
Poubelle was delighted at his choice and signed him up for the sandwich, plus a tall glass of mare's milk and a mug of tomato basil soup. She took back the menu and zipped away.
While Toby waited, it was fun watching her and After work. They tended to swap cooking and serving duties every few minutes, tag-team style. One would pick up what the other had been doing as if they shared a single mind. After dashed out of the kitchen to welcome new customers while Poubelle zoomed in to stir pots. Toby remembered the theme of duos at Rippingbean & Woofingbutter's. These two would fit right in at the food court.
When his soup and sandwich arrived, the scent reached off the plate to kiss him on the nose. He thanked Poubelle and dived in. Glorious! He couldn't remember eating anything so rich. The sandwich hit his stomach like a perfect cannonball.
As Toby sipped his soup, he felt himself relax more and more. He spent some time just taking in the passing parade.
Directly across the street was a tentpole market selling fresh vegetables alongside crates of outerspace laser pistols. Beside it, a triceratops sat on a milk crate reading a newspaper. As if the sight of a dinosaur wasn't unusual enough, the trike was showing only minor discomfort as several other furs carved up his back like a chop shop, lifting out steaks that went right to the grill. Other cuts of him hung around the awning of the cart. People were lined up with plates out. The triceratops ignored them, concentrating on his paper, looking no more pained than someone getting a haircut.
Aside from the sellers, there were customers to gawk at too. Not everyone was a weirdo, but there were certainly plenty if you took time to look. A man in a leisure suit with a skinless skull. A girl who looked like she'd tried to reproduce amoeba-style and stopped halfway. A couple so monumentally overweight they rode side-by-side in motorized bathtubs. And a fellow pushing along a wheelbarrow full of snarling caged terrorbunnies.
Over here was a woman whose species seemed to be pickup truck: a grille for a muzzle with four literal headlamps for eyes. Over there was a furson who was as two-tone as an old silent movie, complete with static.
Toby watched them all walk by, and a feeling began creeping up on him of just how alone he really was. Walking around Lalochezia hadn't given him as much a sense of its scale as the sheer number of people milling about. And this was on an off-day! Toby sipped his milk, feeling small. He envisioned a birds-eye view of the city, seeing a microscopic dot somewhere in the middle labeled 'You Are Here'. He hadn't been so completely on his own since those first few nights in the cave.
'I'm in a mess, aren't I? I can't even find George with a map. How am I ever gonna handle Scaphis?'
He chuckled, but then his expression turned to sorrow.
He thought back to the hollow, needy eyes of the refugees from Papilloma.
'She pulled their faces off. I watched her torture all my friends and then she stole their faces.'
There was no warning. Toby shoved away his soup bowl by reflex and suddenly his face was buried in his folded arms. His jaw shuddered. His lips pulled back and his eyes clenched shut. His lungs tightened. His fists balled. The tears were unstoppable.
For a moment he didn't even know why. His sobs were quiet, but wrenched from him so violently that his ribs ached. His shoulders hunched and his nose leaked. Within seconds he was completely blind from crying. The tablecloth was nothing but a bleary cloud.
He had been shoving this feeling away. Burying it under plans and worries, keeping his mind busy with problems, rushing off into the fray without giving his heart time to catch up. He had lost so much in so short a time and his grief was tired of waiting to be heard. It was forcing him to listen, here and now. It didn't matter that he was surrounded by dozens of people. He had passed his breaking point without realizing it.
'She killed them. My friends. Piffle and Zinc and Junella and George. She killed all of them. Heartlessly. She wanted me to watch. She tortured them. She hid her real self all that time. Every word she wrote was a lie. And then she got rid of us without any hesitation. She pulled their faces off!! And I watched and I did NOTHING!!'
His chest felt like a giant fist was collapsing it. His eyes leaked on the tabletop, stinging. At his core there was a painful weight that just kept growing heavier. His own internal black hole.
His mind retraced every detail he remembered from those horrible last minutes in the silver door room. Every moment of his friends squirming, crying, calling out in fear. And Doll's soundless, sadistic taunting. She'd done everything so slow. To savor it. To prolong their pain. Her long black tongue with the green stinger at the tip. She erased them with it. Carved away everything that made them who they were, violated every part of them, robbed them of their very identity. And she'd enjoyed it. The more pain the better. It was fun.
'How could I have ever thought I'd stand a chance against cruelty like that? We loved her. We cared about her and kept her safe the whole time we thought she was Doll. And THIS is what she did to us. My friends... The best people I ever knew. They were so strong and caring. They supported me when I was nothing but a scared little wimp. They helped me and encouraged me. Like brothers and sisters. I'll never see them again. I'm running away from that fact because it hurts too much. I'm doing what characters in fairy tales do and rushing off to be a hero, but I'm not a hero and I never was. They're GONE. And I'm too weak to face it. She took their faces off. Scooped them out like jack-o-lanterns. She made toys out of them. And I'm crazy to think I'll ever have any chance of getting close to them ever again. Crazy! I'm out of my stupid, worthless mind! I ought to be mourning them and instead I'm lying to myself that I can change a goddamn thing. Turn back time. I sat there and I watched. I did nothing to stop them dying. And I hate myself for that and the guilt will kill me if I let myself feel it, so I'm building this elaborate bullshit in my head that I can save them.'
He stared down at the table but his eyes saw nothing. He felt like heavy stones were driving him down into the cold dirt to be buried. 'I can't do this. No one could. Aldridge didn't even try, he knew better. She tore him up like old garbage. Then she did the same to everyone I loved. How could... How could anyone have that much hate inside? To turn on the people who'd stood by you and carried you and tried so hard to heal you!?'
This was Logdorbhok all over again. Faced with the true enormity of what Scaphis was, and what she had taken from him, Toby was finally cracking. His dam had burst. And while he knew these thoughts were possibly irrational and definitely pessimistic, he also felt like he needed to air them. He'd tried to hold back these floodwaters, and that was a mistake. He had grieved for the loss of his new family in Scarlatina, but had not allowed himself to grieve for his old one.
'I loved you. Every one of you. Back before I died, the only furson I ever really had on my side was my dad. And he was thrown away like garbage too. Everyone I love either turns out to be my enemy or vanishes for good. Is this what love is? Betrayal and loss unending? Just one heartbreak over and over? How can people stand it? And here I am in a world where I can't even commit suicide. The pain won't let me escape no matter what I do.'
His breath shuddered. He felt tiny and weak. A broken eggshell. Something delicate that had been stomped flat again and again until barely any trace remained.
'I can't take it. I can't go on. I don't want to. I don't want to live in a world where everyone leaves. Where we're all dreams for some rotten curled-up dead demon to play with. It never ends and there's no way out. Everything good dies. It all gets taken away...'
He saw their faces smiling at him from the past, unreachable.
'Junella... You tried so hard to make me strong. You kicked my ass and chewed me out. I looked up to you. Zinc, too. I was amazed by him. Always facing everything with a smile like it was no big deal. Piffle was the sweetest, most loving, adventurous, exciting, hopeful friend anyone could ever have. And no one in the world has ever been more loyal and devoted as George. I never deserved them. What was I to them but an anchor? Something to drag along behind them. And even when I started pulling myself up, Dysphoria slammed me right back down again. Just when I thought-'
"Hon?"
Toby lifted his head.
Poubelle recoiled at the state his face was in. "Oh, hon!! You are feelin' diggy, aren't you!?"
He had no idea what she meant. His reddened eyes could barely focus. She was just a blue wavy place in the air. He sniffed away his runny nose and asked, "What?"
"Diggy? Y'know?" She mimed standing in a hole and digging herself deeper and deeper.
"Right. Yeah." He laughed miserably at how appropriate the gesture fit his feeling.
A warm blue paw gently rubbed his shoulder. "What's gotcha like this? You look like a wrung sponge. I hope it's not 'cuz of the food!"
Another laugh, then a loud sniff as he wiped his tears away on his napkin. "No, the food was wonderful. Don't worry about that. And don't worry about me either, I just... My emotions caught up to me, that's all."
Toby had felt himself drowning a moment ago. His despair had been overwhelming. As deep and wide as the ocean. It seemed impossible anything else could exist. But now, just a simple bit of comfort from a total stranger had brought him up for air.
Poubelle was looking at him with a sad, gentle smile that reminded him of Piffle. "Whatever it was, I hope you feel better soon. Would some nice dessert help?"
"Yes, th-that sounds perfect." Toby's throat felt raw and tight. "And another milk, please?"
A hearty grin. "You got it!" She noticed After passing nearby and flagged him down.
The bat swept through the crowd of diners with the ease of a skier. Noticing Toby, he cocked his head in sympathy. "He doin' allright, Pooby?"
"I think he'll be there soon, Dessert. Speaking of, y'wanna maybe go fetch him something soothing on the house? Milk too!"
He tapped her a swift salute. "On it."
Toby couldn't believe he'd heard that right. "For free? You don't have to, honestly!"
She snorted in rebuke and patted his paw. "People should leave my restaurant happy. Don't get yerself unscrewed over it."
And, although the restaurant was moderately full, Poubelle stayed by Toby's side, softly massaging his shoulder, until After returned with a dish of orange sherbert.
Toby was touched. "Thank you so much. This is amazingly generous of you both. You don't even know me."
After chuckled. "Well, now we do. Any customer's a friend, so of course we want our friends to feel allright. I might've missed whatever's making you feel like this, but I hope you get past it soon."
Toby nodded slowly. "Maybe I will. Thank you." He turned to Poubelle. "Thank you both. You've done more than you realize."
The pair smiled to him, and then each other. One more hearty shoulder pat from the squirrel. "Good to hear. I'll be up at the register when you're done, dumplin'."
After gave Toby a snappy nod. "Still a lot more friends in here to keep happy." He winked.
Toby watched them return to work, awed by their simple, unasked kindness. The sherbert seemed to melt his heartbreak as it melted on his tongue.
He sighed deeply. His chest muscles and cheeks hurt from crying so hard. The corners of his eyes were raw. He could still feel sticky tears matting down his fur. But the worst was over. As emotions sometimes do, his grief had blown in with all the fury of a thunderstorm, then dissipated just as fast. Even though he felt achy, drained, and self-conscious now, he didn't regret what had happened. Getting it out felt better than trying to ignore it. And he didn't really think it was a lie to believe his friends could be recovered. 'After all, I'm still here. I got myself back. I'm sure they've got the will to as well.' The road ahead would be rough terrain, but not impassable. And maybe he needed this feeling of being sore and soaked from crying. It would be something to remember in the days ahead to keep him motivated. He needed to feel the full extent of what Scaphis had taken from him, to remind him of how important it was to get it back. His plans were no longer a distraction from his pain. They were serious. From this moment on, he wasn't running away from grief anymore, he was running towards his reunion.
For the first time, Toby fully understood what he had committed himself to. And he was allright with that.
Little spoonfuls of sherbert swirled around his mouth and drizzled down his strained throat. The coldness made him shiver pleasantly.
He tried to remember all the painful things he'd been saying to himself a moment ago. Some of it was B.S. Just wallowing in as much negativity as possible. But some of it was true. In particular, how much he loved and missed his friends. Not for the selfish reason of needing them to guide his way, but because they had made his life worthwhile. Of course everything felt hollow without them.
But not hopeless. That had been his self-pity talking. Even with the Allfilth lurking beneath his feet right now, there was ample evidence Phobiopolis was not completely doomed to suffering and ugliness. His friends were Exhibit A.
In fact...
That had been something he'd thought of right at the end, just before Poubelle intervened. It was something he recognized only now in hindsight. 'I was making progress, wasn't I? Not just cowering and squeaking at everything like when I first showed up. I was helpful plenty of times. I knocked in a heckuva lot of heads with my hammer. And after I accepted the truth about Mom in Dysania, I was feeling more confident than ever.' He sighed. 'Then we went into Dysphoria and it all went backwards.'
That had been over a month ago. By now he'd had time to distance himself from the situation, to look at it dispassionately. And the pattern was painfully obvious. 'All my life, I was that struggling little baby in the bathtub with Mommy scrubbing me too hard. She was like this giant hand that could descend upon me at any time and hurt me. I got so used to living like that, I couldn't even see it anymore. Then once I was finally away from her, and with real friends who cared enough to not lie to me, the truth broke through all my stubbornness.' He remembered kneeling in the desert, pounding away at the soap with all his strength and rage. 'I found my confidence. Because that big looming hand was finally gone from my life. I wasn't a helpless little kid. She wasn't there to keep me under her thumb anymore. And right as I accepted that, what happens next? I end up in a place that did everything it could to put me right back there! Every dirty trick to mess with my mind and make me feel powerless and miserable. But I beat it. I still can't believe I did. After all those copies of my bedroom, I just kept on going until it broke the pattern. And that must've pissed it off. I saw through it. So it stopped playing games. It shoved me up face-to-face with the real thing. That's why none of the others saw it. Because it wanted to teach me a special lesson. 'You're a tiny helpless baby and I'm a big evil hand that can pick you up and torture you whenever I want.' The exact opposite of what I'd just got done freeing myself from. No wonder I broke down! No wonder I was so numb and depressed! And I lied to all my friends that I was fine. And I jumped at the chance to see the magic door that could end it all. I was so full of shit about that! Lying to myself and everyone else. I knew in an instant I wanted to walk through. It was only the thought of my hammer that stopped me.'
That made him pause.
He took a moment to reflect on that, wondering why. He looked down at the slit in his palm, and opened it just enough to let a flash of silver peek through.
Why had that stopped him? Why, when even the pleas of his friends (and a punch in the face from Zinc) hadn't? Why had it seemed so alarming that the loss of his fingers meant he couldn't hold his hammer anymore?
He shrugged. 'I guess... because it's a symbol? Picking it up was one of the first times I took control of my life. I wasn't hiding behind anyone else at that moment. I saw it, picked it up, and swung it. Then later I stood up to what Junella and Zinc wanted for me and I kept it. I defended myself with it in Ectopia. I cracked that biteranodon's skull like an egg. I killed craploads of nightmares with it in Gilla-Gilla's yard.' He ran his left paw along his right arm, feeling the steel weight inside. 'This is my strength. Not just because it's a hammer, but because it's mine.'
And that was a perfectly good explanation. Except it wasn't good enough and his brain knew it. There was something else here. He felt a tension creeping up inside of him, but a good one. He was close to something important, some revelation that would snap a whole lot of things into focus. He could feel the edges of it struggling to squirm out from beneath his subconscious.
Toby tried to clear his mind. Free up the runway. 'Okay. Think about something else. Think about... This sherbert is really nice. Creamy and melty. When was the last time I had this stuff? I'm still amazed Poubelle just let me have it for free. I guess not everyone who owns a business is like L'roon, needing to account for every tiny thing. Being nice in the moment can lead to bigger profits later on. In fact, if I ever get the chance, I am definitely gonna recommend her and After to Mr. Rippingbean and Mr. Woofingbutter. They really would fit in perfectly at that place. Maybe they'd have to make their menu a little more hoity-toity, or maybe they could...' He snapped his fingers. 'Yeah! The garage down at ground level! That'd be a great place to grab some food and watch all the cool cars get worked on!' Thinking about that made him remember the mice and reindeer who had thanked him for stopping Gyre 2. The trio's gratitude had filled him with a warm, happy confidence, and the memory did so again. Toby looked across the restaurant to see Poubelle boppin' to the radio as she pressed hamburgers, while After piled on the charm with the customers.
Toby noticed all the smiles in the diner. He looked around to the rest of the market and saw plenty there too. Surprising, considering that this place was seeing hard times. The fear of the Plastic Storm that had taken down Papilloma (and who knows how many other small settlements) was probably keeping plenty of people from coming here to shop. But some came nonetheless. And plenty of them looked like they weren't letting the bad news bother them.
Toby trembled. He was right on the edge of it.
'Aldridge talked about this. I'm not entirely sure when, since I was so frickin' mopey in his living room, but he said something about how Logdorbhok wasn't the whole story...' His eyes widened. 'That's right!! Phobiopolis used to be part of some star-being who got killed. And then a chunk of it flew off and Ol' Shitface poisoned it. But that star-being was all about knowledge and goodness and saving people after they died so they could be happy. That's why- THAT'S WHY!!!' Toby nearly leapt out of his seat.
It was such a small detail but it made an incalculable difference. After Dysphoria, Toby had been infected with the Allfilth, and naturally thought everything was repulsive and worthless and pointless and doomed. But it wasn't. Because the rottenness was only half the equation. Buried underneath was the original core of Phobiopolis: the star-being. A being of love and learning. This world was originally something good, but was tarnished by evil. Like a beautiful painting that someone had spilled outhouse water all over. But the painting still remained somewhere underneath. 'It doesn't matter that the star-being's dead! Because Logdorbhok is too and he's still dreaming. And so is the star-being!!'
Toby's head shot up and he looked all around in every direction. Looking at all the people living their lives and going about their business. None of them knew. None of them had any idea what was going on just beneath their feet. Lots of them probably thought this world was just a steamy sack of dog poop. And there was ample evidence everywhere. The nightmare constructs, the shifting landscape, places like Amaurosis Fugax and Marasmus and Dysphoria. But none of them realized that they themselves were proof things weren't all bad. If Logdorbhok had been reigning supreme all this time, there wouldn't be a single spot in all of Phobiopolis that was habitable or enjoyable. There'd be nothing but coast-to-coast suffering. Instead, there were places where people came together to stand side-by-side and fight back the darkness. They'd found stability enough to build whole cities on. Happiness was possible here. Love was possible. Those things couldn't have existed in a world ruled solely by the Allfilth. Toby knew from firsthand experience. Even without ever touching that abomination, he'd felt its hideous soul from a distance, sucking up everything decent and hopeful and churning it into despair. A black hole from which no optimism escaped. But another force opposed it. Something as positive as the Allfilth was negative. Something that, even if it didn't directly watch over its inhabitants, at least it gave them some small comfort to cling to. Scarlatina proved it. Given only a thin strip of beach and some old car parts, those furs had built as much of a paradise as Phobiopolis would allow.
'And really, every town I've been to is like that. They're all little sanctuaries carved out of desolation. They're all sidewalk dandelions. Scarlatina, and this place, and Coryza, and EC. Even Stoma and Gilla-Gilla's house. Papilloma too! I can't imagine living so close to those horrible maze noises, but they did somehow! Because they had each other to hold on to! And the star-being gave them that chance!'
Something else about Scarlatina suddenly popped into mind. Toby snapped his fingers. 'The caves!! They live in caves! Maybe that's why they're even more peaceful and happy than anywhere else! Even though people seem to treat each other pretty decent in all the cities I've been to, Scarlatina's even more welcoming and friendly. Because they live in the rocks! If the star-being is what all of Phobiopolis is physically made of, then maybe living nestled right in there close to it rubs off after a-'
"GEORGE!" he shouted.
Several heads turned and Toby slapped his paws over his mouth, casting apologetic looks around.
It made so much sense. Perfect sense. Toby remembered the other bonecuddy on Gilla-Gilla's porch: a mindless, murderous nightmare, in function as well as form. The contrast between it and his steadfast, helpful, gentle friend was enormous. So what was the difference? George had spent a century or so buried in the soil. Not only had he been restricted from acting on his instincts, he'd also been engulfed by the calming presence of the star-being!
Toby tried to remember exactly what he'd been told about parasomnic constructs. Best as he could figure, they were born out of the same material as Phobiopolis itself, animated by Logdorbhok's destructive will, then shaped by the fears of the living souls who dwelt here. The clay, the spirit, the form. Three different parents, all contributing to build the snarling, carnivorous horrors that prowled this world and preyed upon its residents. But what conclusions could he draw here? Again, he felt that tug of being on the cusp of something major.
'Okay. George is an ascended construct. Let's start there. They're rare as hell, but it can happen. I've met a few others by now. And the change doesn't always have to be by burial. L'roon might not be the most altruistic guy in the world, but he's got a conscience. He basically developed it all on his own. From decades of boredom. ...Just like Red! Both of them for different reasons! They exceeded their instincts. Their programming. One got too smart for the old tricks to satisfy, and one got too big for anything else to pose a challenge.' The word 'big' sparked another memory, and Toby realized he might have already met a fourth ascended. 'The praying mantis! The great big huge one in the wasteland with the red people-tears! That must've been a construct too. But it didn't attack us! So maybe it fell into a trance and stopped caring, like Red!'
He tried to think of any other constructs he'd seen that displayed un-construct-like behavior. 'Well, the octospider talked. He wasn't very nice though. But he also wasn't as brutal as, like, the hypenas or that ball of cat heads. And the convorines! They were vicious as hell towards us, but actually kinda-sorta showed some care for one another.' It seemed he was on the right track here. This was starting to fit together. If constructs were just specks of the star-being's flesh like everything else, then they had to retain some hidden measure of goodness way down deep inside them, even though Logdorbhok's will was controlling them. Toby imagined a clean white sponge soaking up dirty black ink. But it seemed like, with sufficient time, or intelligence, or immersion in the star-being itself, the ink could be wrung out. The sponge could get pretty close to clean again.
Toby was practically vibrating from excitement. He had no idea what the implications of his theory were, or if it was even in any way useful, but he was nevertheless astounded to have figured it out.
That is, until cynicism stepped in. The mouse's posture slumped and his excited expression turned flat. 'No, no, no. C'mon. Sure this big idea seems obvious now, but if it were true, wouldn't someone else have figured it out by now? How likely is it that I've dug up something no one else in the entire history of Phobiopolis has? Some newbie mouse drops in just a few months ago and riddles out the secret meaning of the entire world!? How arrogant can you get!'
The weight of probability did seem stacked against him. But another part of him had a counterargument. 'Maybe not. Just because it's unlikely doesn't mean it's impossible. The facts do seem to fit and...' A bit of energy surged in him again. 'A furson can only come to the right conclusion if they have all the evidence!! Before I got here, George was still underground! And L'roon had never told anyone what he is. And Piffle's the only one who got close enough to Red to realize he wasn't a monster!" The adrenaline was back! "Holy crap!! I'm not just spinning crazy theories because I think I know better, I actually do know better! Because I'm one of the first people to ever see all the pieces! How many people here have ever gone up the mountain? How many of them have ever met a friendly construct, or seen the Allfilth's ugly face, or had Aldridge teach them about the nature of the world? Most people here probably stay in one city their whole lives. So it's like there's kazillions of puzzle pieces spread out aaalllll across the world, and I'm one of the few people lucky enough to see enough of them to get an idea of what the puzzle's actually supposed to be!'
It still seemed too good to be true though. The naysayer voice tried again to burst his bubble. 'Your theory only works if all the puzzle pieces fit. You're forgetting something. Constructs that can talk are ascended, right? Or close to it? What about Dr. Dacryphilia?'
Toby didn't even realize the importance of a forgotten name coming back to him on its own like that. He was too busy trying to figure out where the mad possum fit into all this. Because yeah, that guy was either a genuine construct or a furson so nightmare-like that it made next to no difference. If he was just a guy in a big wooden mask, then that would explain everything. But that was too easy. Dacryphilia had felt like a nightmare. He had his whole evil domain and an army of waiterthings and that horrible machine with the teacups and-
Toby slammed his palms down on the table hard enough to make the dishes rattle. His lips were pulled back in an impossible grin. His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.
Because Dacryphilia fit the pattern too.
What had he tried to do to him and Piffle? Mind control them into a nightmarish drudgery that would transcend pain into bliss. He was trying to make them happy by making them eternally, inescapably unhappy. In his own sick way, he was trying to be helpful.
Toby held his hand to his chest to manually slow his breathing. 'Holy hot fuck, it fits... All of it...' There existed a sliding scale of construct redemption, with the arachnopus and the convorines at the bottom, then Dr. Dacryphilia who was trying to be good but failing, then the mantis who was totally non-involved, then L'roon who could be kind up to a point, then Red who was basically a big sweet gigantic puppy...
Then George. Who was a better furson than most real people Toby had ever met.
The tears came again, this time as Toby realized just how much he missed his beloved dark protector. His friend. They were so close now, yet still separated. 'But he's here. And somebody here knows where this Tif Tif lady is. Wherever she is, he is. Or at least she knows where he went. And I'll find him if I have to walk all the way to the Blackdamp and back.'
Toby sprang to his feet, bursting with energy and determination.
...Then sat right back down again. Because he suddenly realized he wasn't done realizing.
Breathing carefully, lest his fluttering heart burst through his ribcage and go flying off, Toby looked back down again at his right arm. With a small blare of bright energy, he eased his hammer out to look at it. Keeping it safely held in his left, he was able to wrap his thumb and stumps around the hilt. The spotless metal gleamed.
He had started this train of thought by asking about his hammer and what it truly meant to him. Now, with the rest of the puzzle in place, his mind was just about to reveal the truth.
Toby tried once again to blank himself and let the last piece slide in easy. He went back over his other conclusions.
'One: The fundamental nature of this world is good.'
He looked out across the restaurant, seeing the smiles of people making the best they could out of a world that gave them so little. They did it by helping one another. And something buried deep below held back the darkness enough to allow them that chance.
'Two: Constructs are brainwashed.'
He couldn't quite bring himself to call them victims, as most of them weren't really much more than puppets. Robots. Most of them simply did as they were programmed, and their operator was the god of all cruelty. Removed from the Allfilth's influence, they could be rebooted with something else. Anything else. Madness. Boredom. Greed. Zen. Loyalty. Because they were born from Phobiopolis' soil. Which was malleable. Unstable. Some of it so much so that people could direct their will at chunks of it and turn it into whatever they wanted. Food or weapons or clothing. But not everything in this world came from imaginite. Some of it was dreamed up directly by the Allfilth.
Or by the star-being.
Toby felt a chill crawl up and down his arms, raising goosebumps.
What had Dorster said about his hammer? That it was genuine nightmare steel. Stronger than imaginite. Because it had been spontaneously created by Phobiopolis itself.
It was true to say that anything made of imaginite was made of the star-being's body. But the hammer had come from its dreams as well.
Toby stared in shivering reverence as he realized he was holding a chunk of the star-being right there in his hand. Infused with its will.
And on the heels of that thought, another. The final piece.
Events had taught him that, for all intents and purposes, Phobiopolis now regarded this hammer as a part of Toby's body. Toby himself knew it. Which meant it was possible for his will and the star being's to merge.
He reached out trembling fingers to trace the curves of the hammer's striking head.
'Can you hear me in there?' he asked.
There was no response.
But maybe, in time...
Toby deLeon sat alone in the small cafe on the far side of Phobiopolis, aware of only two things in all the world: his hand and his hammer. This was more than a personal weapon. It was a talisman. A magic wand. This was a chunk of Phobiopolis' true soul. His arm wielded the will of the world itself.
And even better, Scaphis would never see it coming. Because if he'd almost missed the importance of Aldridge's words due to sheer gloominess, he knew damn well she'd only been thinking about vengeance. Plus, how likely was it that even if she'd heard, she'd understand? She probably saw the world like Toby had after Logdorbhok: a stinking, hopeless hellhole. She'd never grasp the significance of the star-being. She'd probably written the whole story off as mere trivia. But Toby understood. He had completed the path that she'd gotten stuck halfway through.
He had gone from the naivety of his former childhood, to the nihilism of Dysphoria, to the overwhelming hope of this moment right now.
A crazy smile was on his face. He wiped his tears off on his arm and stood up again. His meditation was finally over. Now he could leave and continue, armed not just with his hammer, but with understanding. Toby nodded to all the other diners who were casting sideways looks at him and wondering what the hell was going on in the overemotional little weirdo's head. Toby tidied up his table, tucked away his hammer, and headed towards the cash registers.
Poubelle noticed his approach. The mouse's stride looked like he was about to wade through an army. "Well look at you! My, what a difference! That must've been some sherbert, huh?"
He beamed at her. "It was exactly what I needed. You have no idea. Seriously, I'm this close to leaning across the counter and kissing you right now."
She blushed violet. "Be careful or you'll make After jealous. But if you insist..." She fluttered her eyelashes and turned her cheek towards him.
Without hesitation, Toby gave her a smooch.
She giggled like a toy piano. "Looks like kindness pays rewards!"
"It does," Toby said sincerely.
Her tail bounced to and fro. She wiggled like she was just about to float up to the moon. "With thanks like that, I almost feel bad about ringing you up," she said with a wink. "Still have to 'tho."
"No problem at all," Toby assured. He pointed to the willwell beside her. "Right here?"
"Yup. Just gimme a minnie to tally everything..." She punched the cost of the meal into the register, then the indicator jumped to a certain point on the willwell's dial.
Toby took a deep breath, remembering all the times he'd struggled to shove one of those little red lines. And yet, right now, with the way he was feeling, he didn't think he'd have too much of a problem.
He gave a good hard shove, and was amazed at what happened.
It took far less effort than he could have imagined. Nowhere close to Piffle's prowess, but certainly near Junella's. Maybe surpassing it. Toby could not believe how fast the red line swung around to zero and 'ding'ed. And, since the dial was circular, it could keep on going past if he wanted it to.
'Why not?'
Poubelle smiled. "That's a pretty nice tip."
Toby hardly heard her. He was suddenly very interested in this new experiment. Pushing the little red line felt just like reaching out and nudging it with his finger. All around the clock in a big circle.
Poubelle gulped. "Really! Hon, you don't have to!"
"But I want to," Toby said absently, still staring with laser-like focus at the willwell dial. "Is it possible for me to break this thing?"
Clearly flustered, she watched the dial alongside him. A few patrons were starting to look too. "I d-don't think so."
"Then I'm going to try."
-***-