A Messenger from Nephelokokkygia

In the Box-Shaped Chariot

Chapter 9: In the Box-Shaped Chariot

In the vestibule, there is a mirror, which faithfully duplicates appearances. Men often infer from this mirror that the Library is not infinite—if it were, what need would there be for that illusory replication?

-- Jorge Luis Borges, "The Library of Babel"

"What does that even mean?" Fox asked, but it did not seem like she genuinely wanted an answer. "Dunno about Grace, but neither of us" she pointed to Diana, then herself, "have twins."

"Do my luminous eyes deceive me?" Schrodinger retorted. "Are you not changelings? Beings that, for one reason or another, have one foot in the physical world, the other in the Astral space Grace Grey and I spoke of last evening. Creating illusions out of the elemental stuff of dreams is one of the most basic abilities available to you. And what form do you know better than yourselves?

"Done well, a cloud clone looks exactly like the one who made it. They seem perfectly alive, even having the appearance of weight should anyone touch them. Granted, they'll wonder why 'your' skin is so moist." Schrodinger shuddered at the last word. "While your proxy is mindless, if you concentrate hard enough, you can see and hear through it. Almost as if you are in two places at once. Clones cannot speak, however, even if you desperately need to convey some bit of information.

"Their movements never exceed the rudimentary, but they're reliable. While they lack the indefinable 'spark of life', this Institute beats that out of people anyway. The place might as well be a regular school, even without the standard lessons. The workers shouldn't know the difference, as long as your clones follow daily routines. They even appear to eat and drink and... other activities that generally follow."

Grace and Fox looked at each other awkwardly. Diana did too, but all her looks were awkward.

"This isn't what I wished for!" Fox started to protest. "I wanted a way out, and you talk about fairytale stuff for babies."

Schrodinger sighed. "When you're young, your mind is completely open. No matter how much information's put in, there's always room for more. It has to be closed by adults. This is normally done by a terrible group of people called 'teachers,' who are actually paid to squeeze passion and creativity out of your brain! Here you are, Tatum Levinson, with the power of a poltergeist, arguing with a talking cat, no less, and you still have room to doubt?"

"Wasn't at school," Fox responded, "but I heard if you keep your mind open, your brain will fall out." Her expression was impassive, but the rain of jagged stones falling around her disclosed her true mental state.

"I think it can work," Grace broke in. "I've seen my friend Bennu hide himself from people around us, like he was invisible. Mr. Aitvaras—a demon we wound up fighting—could disguise himself as a human. Why not these cloud clones?"

Fox pulled up her hood and started trudging towards the door.

Schrodinger did not block her way, but said "This is only part of the boon I offer. Astral is the shortcut we shall take to escape, right enough, but first you should familiarize yourself with what that is. Channeling its power is easy enough. You already spend a third of your life asleep. Simply reach out and touch the stuff of dreams." The cat also nodded in Grace and Diana's directions.

His instructions were less than vague, but Grace stuck out her right hand. Having no idea what a dream would feel like, she closed her eyes, and found herself remembering all the impossible things she had seen, heard, even participated in these last few months. A dewy touch like condensation spread across her palm. She opened her eyes, but found she held absolutely nothing.