Chapter Nineteen - The Pursuit of Reason

Pam looked at the two pamphlets on the table. On the left was one of the pamphlets she existed to give out. It had the cafe’s logo on it, and the address. It was printed at the sign shop by the nice old mortal who named Pam Pam.

On the right was another pamphlet. This one was one of those that she had made. It was called the Not Today pamphlet, and she had made several hundred of them. Each one was a little different, a little... better.

Not always. Sometimes she did something wrong, sometimes, in her pursuit of a better pamphlet, she didn’t quite get it all right. The mistakes were lessons though, lessons on how to place the words, where to put the images, how to crease and fold the pamphlet.

There was a lot more to it then she had ever considered.

It was, she judged, a good goal to have in life: to learn how to make the perfect pamphlet.

Hers weren’t.

Her pamphlet was still a little uneven, and her handwriting a bit scratchy. The crayons she used weren’t as precise as the stamped ink on the old man’s pamphlets, and hers lacked a certain uniformity to them. When she stacked hers, they didn’t all feel the same.

That was okay.

Pam felt happy that she was getting better, and when she shared her pamphlets, the ones she made, it made her feel... special. Nervous, but special.

The old mister made pamphlets for a living. He had said so himself. Maybe she could make pamphlets to keep on living too?

She had made a lot of Not Today pamphlets, enough to last her a while. A good, proper (if crooked) stack of them. Now she was considering making another sort of pamphlet.

“Hey, you.”

Pam looked up and found that Dreamer was staring at her. “Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” Dreamer said. “I should probably get rid of you, because we don’t need you anymore.”

“Oh,” Pam said.

That made sense. She was here to hand out pamphlets, but now that the cafe had a steady stream of customers--in part (she hoped) because of her efforts--they really didn’t need her there anymore.

She could accept it. It would be the right thing to do. Dreamer would yoink her back into the big body, and Pam would be nommed away.

Maybe if she was lucky some small part of her would remain, become one with the bigger whole that was Dreamer.

She doubted it.

Her speck, her existence, was a tiny thing.

“I don’t want to,” Pam said.

Dreamer blinked. “Yeah well, that doesn’t matter.”

“I can still help,” Pam said.

Dreamer frowned. “But we don’t need you anymore.”

Pam opened and closed her mouth. Reality was warping, and she knew that she was about to end. “I can make things that you can’t,” she said.

Dreamer paused. “What?”

“I can make things that you can’t,” Pam said. She grabbed a Not Today pamphlet and gave it to Dreamer. There was that familiar jolt of happy as Dreamer took the pamphlet, but it was a small, distant thing. “That’s something I made. I can make others.”

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“This is weird,” Dreamer said.

“I... I know,” Pam said. Her pamphlets were weird. They weren’t as good as other pamphlets. And despite how happy she was to see someone taking something she made, it still made tentacles wiggle in her stomach to have someone see something she made.

Pam hesitated, then she lied, lied to herself and to Dreamer.

“It’s a very good pamphlet. It has good information and, ah, visual design. And it’s very nice. I think that people would be very impressed seeing it.”

“Yeah, okay?” Dreamer asked.

Dreamer... didn’t get it. She wasn’t Pam. Pam had been Dreamer once, she knew how Dreamer thought, and Dreamer didn’t care about pamphlets. It was why Pam was made.

It felt like... like she was a pamphlet in the hands of someone who didn’t care, and now she was being torn apart, ripped into little shreds.

She was made because people didn’t care about the thing she was made to do. No one would ever understand her purpose.

But, that wasn’t true. There was the old man.

There was Pam.

“I can make new kinds of pamphlets,” Pam said. “All sorts. I can make them about anything.”

“Yeah, but I don’t need them,” Dreamer said. She was confused.

Maybe that was good. Pam was often confused too. “I... I can make pamphlets about good things. About food, and about hugs and pats and Abigail. I can make them so good that when people read them, they’ll learn about how good those things are.”

Dreamer hesitated. “That would be good.”

“Yes!” Pam cheered. “Yes, I can make them so good that everyone that reads them will know how good the things are.”

Dreamer looked at Pam’s Not Today pamphlet, the one she’d been given. It was the latest one, with her best ideas, her greatest efforts.

“Okay,” Dreamer said.

“Okay,” Pam said. She smiled.

A new purpose. Sort of. She was still Pam the pamphlet clone, but she would continue to be, and she would make the best pamphlet that ever was.

And in doing so... maybe she’d find a purpose behind her purpose. Maybe that would be enough for her to be happy, even if she might be nommed one day.

Pam gathered her pamphlets with a big smile on and rushed to the door and then outside. She had to visit the old man again. He told her how he made his pamphlets, but maybe she could learn more.

At the entrance she almost bumped into Charlotte, who was just walking in.

“Oh, hey, it’s you,” Charlotte said. She smiled, then frowned. “Why are you crying?”

Pam tried to speak, then had to sniff in hard to clear her nose. Talking was so much worse than just giving people a pamphlet, she found. “I... I was almost gone, but I’m here instead. I have a purpose.”

“That’s wonderful.” Charlotte said. She squatted down so that her eyes were level with Pam’s. “Are you feeling okay?”

Pam considered it. “I think so.”

“Good, good,” Charlotte said. She raised her arms. “Come on, just a quick hug to make sure.”

Pam discovered something else. She really enjoyed hugs.

It was a very strange day.