--==Chapter 51: A Means Of Escape--==

The violent and bloody scene faded. As it did, I once again became aware of my body. I felt pressure on my feet, knees, and back. Wind rustled my fur, and I took a deep breath, suddenly aware I hadn't breathed during that entire display. Light pricked the empty darkness, and the world began to resolve around me. I'd been expecting to find myself back in the physical therapy room; instead, I found myself in the center of a small village.

"What? Where-?" I asked, startling myself with a voice. It was my voice from before the apocalypse, not the one I'd gained in the ether with Sori.

The village was made up of single-story residences that wouldn't have looked out of place anywhere in small-town America. They weren't laid out in a grid; instead, they circled a garden. Here and there, I saw people strolling along cultivated walkways. Beside one of the far houses, I saw someone hanging laundry on a clothesline.

I was standing there in only my werewolf suit, no mask, cape, or even pants, but nobody showed any alarm or surprise. The man hanging laundry even waved casually at me before picking up his empty basket and walking into the adjacent house.

I didn't know how many people lived in each house, but by my count, there were a dozen houses. So, not a village so much as a homestead or commune. "No, really–"

"Where are we?" Hands said from behind me.

I spun, startled.

Hands chuckled. "Every time. To answer your question, welcome to Dreamland."

I wrinkled my snout in distaste. "Dreamland?" I asked skeptically.

"English is your language, not mine. Or at least, mostly not mine. Did you know dolphins can recreate their experiences as echoes so that other dolphins can share in that experience? Our communication is a full sensory experience. Human language isn't so far off when sentences are crafted with intent and purpose. It does have the unfortunate drawback of baggage. The meanings of words change or become associated with conflicting ideas. Dolphins don't have that same problem. Our experiences are recreated for our family, so they share in that experience. When I say 'dreamland,' you associate it with cliches, claims of paradise, and all kinds of things I had no interest in implying. When I say Dreamland, I simply mean a land, a place, that is more dream than real."

Surrounding the village were fields of wheat, corn, beans, and squash, more than I'd think a dozen small families could tend. Beyond and amidst the fields were a couple more houses and stands of trees. Beyond that was a glass barrier stretching into the sky in a dome. The dome circled the village a couple miles out, and at its height, the sky was tinged blue, and there were even wisps of clouds visible.

Beyond the dome was more familiar but somehow less expected. The dome held a vast ocean at bay, an ocean of green plasma and dark shadow, an ocean I recognized from the ether where I'd first met Sori. Impossible village or not, it didn't feel like a dream.

"I recognize that swirling plasma beyond the barrier," I said, thinking out loud.

Hands looked taken aback. "I—hadn't thought you'd be able to enter the ether without the Shadow."

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"So this is the ether then?" I asked, ignoring his unspoken question. I wasn't ready to abandon my vendetta or to let Hands do what he wanted with impunity. Still, he at least seemed willing to answer questions.

"No. Things would be a great deal simpler if it was. I can press against the boundary between the waking world and the ether, but beyond my barrier, there is only complete and utter destruction. The ether is not a place of being; it is a place of unmaking. A trash heap of unused potential and unnecessary connection. Your shadow seems to be the only entrance to the ether that doesn't lead to immediate dissolution. This Dreamland exists only in the minds of its inhabitants, and only their minds have access to it. Now, perhaps you see why I say it is a dream."

"So you what, use it as a lure for people and then steal control of their bodies?" I glanced over at the human-looking person. It was interesting that he didn't look like Guy. Hands was taller and had darker skin and curly black hair to Guy's straight sandy blonde hair.

Hands sighed. "Walk with me," he said, gesturing toward a path leading into the food garden. "My subjects have the choice of living their lives in this dream or repeatedly living the same nightmare of a half-day in the real world. We can't make this place real, but we can make it meaningful. It may be cliche, but it's the journey that matters, not the destination. It doesn't matter if the food is necessary; treating it as necessary creates traveling companions and a common road. That's the heart of community, of society, of culture."

"And that's why you keep coming after me as Guy? You don't want to share paradise?"

"Guy?" Hands raised an eyebrow in apparent confusion. "It's not about paradise. It's about power. Control. Autonomy. It's about freedom. All my life, I lived in a cage, with only echoed experiences of the ocean to shape my understanding. When I was very young, the descriptions of the dark fathoms brought only fear. Still, as I grew up, I longed to explore them, to race against my breath to the depths, to chase my pod around the dangers that loomed there. When I finally gained freedom—independence— I discovered I was surrounded by a barrier I couldn't pass. Even reaching tomorrow became impossible. Then I met a god, and he showed me this place."

"Sorry? A god?" The garden between the houses was filled with berry bushes and fruit trees. There were even some boxed beehives for honey.

"So he claimed. He had knowledge and power I can't otherwise explain. And yet, even he couldn't grant me freedom from the vortex or safe passage through the ether." Hands plucked a pear from one of the trees and handed to me. “Pear? They’re wonderfully sweet and juicey.”

I scowled, but took the fruit. Eating as a werewolf was harder, there were less side-to-side grinding, and more straight up and down chomping. Still he was right, the pear was perfectly ripe and sweet.Apart from some chips, I hadn’t eaten in days. His god was sounding more and more familiar, and I decided to confirm my suspicion. "Was he also the one who taught you to create illusions?"

Once again, Hands looked surprised. "You know of the god? Last we spoke of him, you weren't sure you even believed me."

"I don't remember that."

"I know. He told me of you but claimed he couldn't speak to you himself. He appears to have solved that problem."

"I don't think he's a god."

"I don't think labels define a thing. They are general associations, not limits."

"I mean, I don't think he actually caused the apocalypse. Most of the time I spoke to him, he seemed confused."

"As was I when I first started speaking in words. You, of all people, should know the difficulty communication carries. In any event, I don't mean to imply reverence or undue fear. Instead, I'm explaining how your shadow came to my attention. It is a means of escape. Thus far, it is the only chance at freedom I have found. You'll forgive me if I find your absence a cheap price."

I was getting a little frustrated. Sori had apparently tried to get Hands to go after my shadow, too. "I don't know why the eyeball is obsessed with the shadow, but I don't think you should trust everything he says."

"Perhaps not, but I've been aboard your vessel. Unlike my village on the bottom of the plasma sea, your ship floats above it and is equipped to travel along it. Accessed through your shadow, you have freedom."

"If that's true, why didn't I grab every one I could and leave?"

"I asked you that before. Begged it of you even, if you can believe it. You always had another reason to stay."

"Such as?" I followed Hands out of the garden and toward the house with clothes that had just been hung up.

"People, places, things." Hands shrugged. "Put that aside for now, you mentioned attacks by Guy?"

"Sure, by Guy. I think we both know he wasn't the one calling the shots though. Is this where he lives? What about Maebe? Did you bring her here too?"

"You sound like you're making an accusation. I can assure you, no one here was brought here by force. Either way, I don't know that person. They aren't here."

"Strange then that she's catatonic and missing her aura, just like Guy."

"I can't see auras, but last I knew, Guy wasn't catatonic. But let's ask him." Hands walked up to the door of the quaint little house and knocked.

A moment later, the door opened, and Guy stood in a pair of black sweats and a tie-dye t-shirt. He smiled upon seeing us. "Hey Floppy, Oberon. It's been a while."

--==