I/Tulpa: the Seven Year Girl

chapter 12

"Where is fancy bred? In the heart or in the head? Shall we roll on?"

Jon pushed the muldra, putting a sphere around him. He lifted off the ground, taking an arc of Earth, a perfect ring of grass. He rose to the height of the building top while traveling towards it, and set the bubble down in the center of the building. Apparently, the man walking the edge hadn't seen him descend. He had taken a seat on the edge and was staring down at the ground, his back to Jon. Jon released the bubble and the circle of grass folded, leaving a mound of earth. Jon approached close enough that he could address the man without yelling.

"May I sit on the ledge with you?" Jon asked.

"It's a free world!" the man yelled. "Whatever you want."

The voice seemed surprisingly familiar, strained, almost comical, but clearly, there was pain in it. He approached, carefully, as not to appear aggressive, sat on the ledge, and swung his legs around so that he was now dangling his feet over the edge of the building. His hands cupped the corner of the building on either side of his knees, mirroring the man on the ledge, and they could both just push and go. Below were several mesquite trees.

"Good choice," Jon said.

"What?!" the man asked.

"I mean, for jumping," Jon said. "Firemen can't set up the air bag. Fifty fifty chance the mesquite breaks your fall. Of course, you might bleed out from all the scratches. Mesquite trees aren't particularly warm and fuzzy."

"Are you trying to be funny?" the man asked.

"Uh, no, no," Jon said. "Crashed a hot air balloon into a mesquite tree once. Took me fucking forever to get the balloon free, and I looked like I had been thrashed by an alley full of cats."

The man didn't say anything. Now that Jon could see his face, he knew the man, by name, by reputation, but he certainly didn't know him well enough to just say his name. They weren't friends. They had never met. Jon felt he hadn't earned the right to use the name. They were quiet.

"It's a good day to die," the man said.

"Yeah," Jon said. "As good as any I suppose."

"You're not just agreeing with me to try and fake some camaraderie and talk me down, are you?" the man said.

"Nope," Jon said. "You're a grown ass adult. If you're going to end you're life, no one's going to stop you. Well, some folks might delay you. But, I take it you're a man of means and, well, it is what it is, right?"

"That's right," he said. He seemed curious. "How did you get up here? I arc welded the door shut."

"Magic," Jon said.

"Umph," the man said. "I wish."

There were people gathering below. A helicopter had arrived. It was loud and annoying, and Jon pushed perspective magic and suddenly it was miles away and he and the man had a nice bubble of quiet.

"You're not going to preach at me and tell me I am going to hell?" the man asked.

"No, I don't believe that shit," Jon said.

The man looked at Jon, studying his profile. Jon stared at the mesquite tree, wondering how far he would pushed through feet first versus prone.

"What do you believe?"

Jon shrugged. "I think what I believe is irrelevant. I am interested in what you're thinking."