Fiction Alliance

1: Coming Out (Of the Pages)

She couldn't believe her ears.  She wasn't fictional!  She was real.  So very real.  Who was this Whovian to tell her otherwise?!

Swearing like a stereotypical truck driver, only in Russian, Anya shoved through the crowd.  She was going to give this girl a piece of her mind!

"I know this is a lot to take in, but how many of you remember your lives?  Besides those of you who have amnesia or have had mind games played on you for so long that you don't know what's real anymore, can you recall what you ate yesterday?  What about this morning?  Do you remember what you did?  And how did you get to this convention?"  The girl let it sink in.  "My name is Althea Cassidy, I don't remember even getting on this podium."

The outraged girl stopped and thought for a moment.  Could it be true?

"You!  Human unicorn!"

Anya looked around for said hybrid.

"The one looking around in circles with pigtails.  The albino.  Come up here for a moment."

Anya panicked and tried to get away, but the crowd carried her over their heads up to Althea.

"What's your name?" Althea shoved the microphone in front of the pissed and confused girl's mouth.

"Anya Pimenova, beyotch!" Anya tried to get away but the other girl's grip was iron.  Literally.  "What the hell do you want?"

"What do you remember?"

For any non-fictional person, the response would be a long, drawn out narrative starting out with their earliest memory to their most current ones.  For anyone listening, popcorn, coffee, and a pillow would be needed.  But for Anya?  Her memory was fuzzy. 

"Like my life is a book and someone has ripped out pages and scribbled over paragraphs."

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

"Wait, is everyone like this?" Anya was shocked.  She thought it was just her.  That stung a little.  She thought that was uniquely her, and it made her somewhat P.O.'d that she wasn't.  "Who else has this problem?  Gimme a show of hands.  Those of you who don't have hands, raise your stump."

Everyone was quick on the draw, except for one.  The blond noticed and her hand shot into the air.

Anya pointed at the blond.  "You!  Come up, Sunglasses."

Fiddling with her shirt collar, the girl strutted up to the stage.

"What's your name?" Althea asked with narrowed eyes.

"Nita."

A brown haired girl about Anya's age appeared on the stage.  "My name is Nita.  What's your last name?"

"Pan."

The three girls glared at 'Sunglasses.'

Althea said, "That's suspicious."

Sunglasses nodded.  "If we really are fictional, the I must have been named after you." she said to the other Nita.  "Just a guess, though."

Anya waved her off.  "You're free to go.  For now."

The girl flew off the stage and Anya turned to Althea.  "I have had dreams where I'm watching a faceless person write me on her cell phone."

The Whovian nodded.  "Same, only the person writes me in a journal and a laptop."  She turns to the second Nita.  "What about you?"

"Tons of people actually.  I have a feeling that if I'm fictional, I'm in not only in an actual book, but fan fictions as well."

Anya agreed.  "The more I think of it, the more it makes sense.  It's like I'm in multiple time streams at once.  I'm fighting aliens in Massachusetts, on the run with my family, and fighting zombies all at once, yet not."

As the girls filed off the podium and others shared their stories, Anya had accepted it.  She was fictional, and so was everyone else there.

But what were they going to do about it?