Well. Call me selfish and foolish and dumb, but I had thoughts from this.
Thoughts on the nature of this space, on the consequences of this space, on the result that created and ran with it and so on...
I am curious. And hungry. And as is my want, I wrote about it.
In which There is a Hole
Normally it's easy to find where pieces fall.
You pick a piece up, you drop it, and there it is. You pick a path, weave that option in, and it is clearly attached. You grab the threads, shake them a bit, pick what one is laying on top, and it naturally is there.
Everything functions like that. Everything has functioned like that. All things that are are things that were, are, and have been.
You are... well, that's not really important at this juncture. Everyone has the same question, even if not the same focus.
Where did she go?
You can see her, obviously.
In the grand tapestry of the moment, it's very clear and very obvious. There to the left is the past. The grand illuminated strands of everything that has been, both real and imagined. All layered in on top of itself in a beautiful dimensioned portrait. Words as much as images as much as ideas flowing together to create a beautiful world that you could spin your hand, and visit any point that has been. Even with the cuts. The patches. And even now, a vast majority of it is swathed in darkness and uncertainty.
To the right, the unknowable options that might be. Every thread that could be presented as tools, as options. Every path those might take and lead, how they connect to innumerable threads both past and future, and where they all hinge. All the threads, all the words, all the potentialities that are, knowable and unknowable, are displayed there. An endless array of cobwebs of what might be. Normally it's difficult if not impossible to pluck one of those threads out before it arrives. But as of now...
Right in front of you, is the present. The exact moment every one of those potential paths become known histories. And there, she is. As always.
But she isn't.
There is a hole.
A hole she is in.
There had been discussion of what it would be beforehand. Whether it would be a trial, or an adventure, or a journey, or an impossible task. Dozens and dozens of possibilities that were what it could have been. One or two even guessed something like this. But a hole...
The threads continued on. Feeding, funneling on into the hole the same as before. Choices were argued over, calls made. Words had and decried the paths picked, mourning for the options that were left astray. And it all funneled back in. What needed be done was the same as it ever had been. But why...
But where is she? Where did she go?
It was a simple enough question to answer. There, obviously. But that's not what was asked.
She had flown to a place more distant than tomorrow's horizons. But she wasn't in the future. You'd be able to see that, it would be obvious. There would be a break from the past to the present, there would be speckling in the threads that were to become the future. There would be signs if this were the case.
In the same way, this wasn't simply another history. It wasn't a layer of backing on the canvas of the past, nor a pressing space that bubbled up in the shown thread that was the visible past. It didn't fit that way, and there were too many things that it wasn't and didn't to make that true. Not the least of which being, who helped bring her there.
So where did she go? What is this place?
The obvious answer... was a hole.
A space cut away to touch upon the fundamental backing that was true. But it wasn't just that. It was...
Murky. It was distorted. It was things that were true no matter how you looked at it, yes, but it wasn't... just that. It was full of things that weren't true, no matter how you looked at it.
A hole through the present. One that wasn't truth, nor was it wrong. And it wasn't attached, but was made of things that had been attatched.
Maybe.
The obvious question came to mind. Did that matter though? Did it matter where, or when, or what it was?
Of course! But... did it really?
Maybe. Too many unknowns flitted around it. But maybe it did. Maybe... it was real. Maybe it was something that was true. Maybe.
In the end, however, it did matter. Not because knowing the truth of it mattered... but because how people would react to the truth.
The simplest question was why it mattered.
Do the actions here have consequences?
Here? In the Hole? Of course! Directly.
Outside? That... was a bit tricky. And that's what people wanted to know. The question that was fought about... even if that wasn't what was fought about. The truth behind words unsaid.
If things here changed the world outside.
If it did, there was weight. There was consequence. There was chances to do the impossible outside that were possible here. It excited people. Thrilled them. Terrified some. And frustrated others.
If it didn't, then what was the consequence? Take what need be, claim what was wanted, take what was needed, grasp what power could be and run.
If it mattered, it mattered. If it didn't, it didn't. But no one knew which was true.
But maybe.
Just maybe.
That's... not quite how it works.
Things here don't reflect, that much is obvious. There is space that is real, and space that isn't. Space filled with ideas and space filled with things.
And that's where the idea started. Where the question grew.
What if it wasn't a hole? Or maybe it wasn't always a hole.
There were threads in the hole. Words that seemed to echo, parts of the world that echoed in different ways. In different words. The world there... it had space that was real. Space that reflected things that were true through a murky lens. But... But the lens wasn't murky? Or maybe it was murky, but that is not why the rest of it was what it was. Because there... the world was two made of two things.
Real things. And Context.
Context didn't exist. It wasn't real. It was made of the stuff of dreams and nightmares and was nothing more than-
A Hole.
It was a hole. It was a hole full of holes. But the holes didn't matter. The holes just proved that something burrowed through them. Something made this not space. That this was
KNOCK
... an idea.
What if this place hadn't existed once? True of all places yes, but in the context of this... time. This history. This potential histories. In the lot of it.
What if this hole... was a hole?
A space. An idea that had been so burnt. So cut away. So embodied by
KNOCK
that the ideas of it still corroded? That the reflection that it was was still reflecting truth because Reflections show Truth. And when it tried to reflect upon the holes it had to reflect back truth, but you can't see a hole. All you can see is Context.
But Mirrors had to reflect. They had to be true. But there were holes.
And on a mirror, that's fog. That's cloudy. That's murky. Inside, that's
KNOCK
which was already true! And the things inside that she was looking for were-! They would be able to do that. They would be-! So of course actions would have consequence! Of course it would reflect back, because it was the reflections which was being touched!
But how? How to prove this wasn't simply an idea, and might be true? How to look for the evidence that said it might be? What could be...
A reflection. True. Undeniable. And one that was absent.
So you formed a question. Asked a damnation. One that would lead to the right questions. Form the right ideas. Align the right notions.
"I wonder if Spike is dead here too."
I also love the tidbit about her we did get, and I'm sorry we (narratively) chickened out of spending more time with her. I'll be tempted to pick the Twilight option again even if it may not be optimal gameplay-wise, although trying to make the QM's non-canon omake happen would be funny too.
