As usual, it came through in a place that was unobserved. This had nothing to do with any desire to remain unseen, but a simple matter of feasibility. It was hard enough to come into existence without the existence in question noticing. If there had been something intelligent to observe it, it would have had to overpower that awareness to force the world into thinking it was real. It might have been able to, or maybe not. However, it hadn’t needed to. Instead, it had slipped into a place that wasn’t certain.
Sure, the shadowed patch of dirt behind a billboard advertising the truth of a local deity’s existence and his never-ending love for his children was a place that no one would have questioned the existence of, but there wasn’t a single person who could have said what was or wasn’t on that patch. It was a place so unobserved that it could have held almost anything, even if it really shouldn’t.
If anyone had been observing that patch, and if their observation wouldn’t have changed the outcome, they would have seen a moment where the predominantly empty space was… wrong. For an instant, something that literally couldn’t exist was doing just that. The observer would have seen the world twist and, if they had rather more than mundane senses, felt reality scream in pain as something that was fundamentally incompatible tried to crawl inside it and wear it like a suit, a suit tailored for a creature with completely different natural laws. And then, it snapped into a form that was suddenly perfectly natural, as if it, now she, had always been there.
Morgan rolled her motorcycle out far enough from the billboard’s shadow to get a look at her new surroundings. She could feel the world still trying to resist her presence, but its protests became weaker with every passing moment. She wasn’t an eldritch abomination of inconceivable substance that reality would do all in its power to expunge, she was a fit twenty something woman on a bike that, while she wasn’t exactly sure why, was apparently a perfectly acceptable steed here. As long as she was just that and nothing more, the world would quickly lose interest.
“You’re getting good at that.” It wasn’t a voice. In fact, it was something that nothing purely of creation could have perceived as communication, which wasn’t to say it wouldn’t have affected them. If anything completely of this world had been exposed directly to it, they would have rapidly ceased to be completely of this world, or just ceased. Even she didn’t hear it as a voice, but there wasn’t a better way to describe it, not one that wouldn’t have drawn reality’s attention for just thinking about it. She decided to ignore it.
Turning out onto the highway, she started in a random direction. It wasn’t like the direction mattered until she found a way to learn what each one meant. “Are you ignoring me because you think I will undermine your façade?” She continued to ignore the book that was strapped on behind her seat in a manner totally unsafe for anything made of mundane paper. For better or worse, it most certainly wasn’t.
“You know that isn’t how it works, right? You don’t have to do anything to hear me, so it’s not going to notice or care that you understand.” Morgan sighed into the wind that she hadn’t thought to have a helmet to block. That was probably going to be a problem sooner or later, but she didn’t dare risk creating one for such a minor issue.
“I know.” She said into the wind. It didn’t matter that her words were snatched away even as she uttered them, it would know what she said. Or, more accurately, what she meant.
“I am ignoring you because I’ve found it’s sometimes better for everyone, and by everyone I mean me, to do so.” She didn’t have to look at the book’s cover, which was bound in something that was probably leather, to know the surface was shifting and twitching in what it used for annoyance. She didn’t really know what alien emotions and thought processes lay at the core of its actions, but it seemed at least capable of acting like it had something humanly recognizable as emotions.
“You shouldn’t ignore me, remember what I can give you, what I can always give you?” And then again, for all its seeming personality, it only really wanted one thing. She changed lanes, sliding in between to vehicles to get ahead of both. She was pretty sure that was illegal, not because of any knowledge specific to this reality, but just because it seemed like a horrible idea for anything that could die. Luckily, any accident she could cause here would be a mere inconvenience for her.
That is not dead which can walk off a multi car pileup. She smiled at her own internal misquote, while she crossed three lanes in one go to cut off a pickup truck which promptly honked to the best of its ability. She ignored the indignant driver, paying no mind to the distinctly rude gesture he gave her. This wasn’t because it was too dark out to see it, she could still see the proffered finger just fine despite the late hour, but because she really didn’t care. “You know it’s wrong here?” The book asked, not bothering to clarify what exactly wrong meant or where exactly here was. It didn’t need to, she knew what it meant.
“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” She didn’t bother to elaborate, she knew it had brought the topic up for a reason and wasn’t going to let it go until that reason had been satisfied.
“I could tell you what is wrong, if you like.” Morgan scoffed, knowing exactly what was coming next. “If you would just ask the Taster of Hidden Threads.” She sighed.
“I am not inviting the Taster of Hidden Threads here.” There was a pause.
“Why not?” It was a genuine question. It was always a genuine question. For all the books innate ability to twist those around it to its will, it never seemed to understand why anyone ever disagreed.
“I don’t want to invite it because, even if I got it to answer that question, it would then go on to reshape this reality into its idea of hospitable.” There was a moment of silence as they both sped passed a seemingly inexhaustible sea of corn.
“Is that a problem?” It wasn’t going to get it if she explained, but there wasn’t really any reason not to.
“It’s idea of a hospitable reality lacks most of the physical laws this one has and has several that I can’t explain while I’m like this. After it was done, only sentient field cascades would fine this a comfortable universe.” There was the usual pause as it tried to figure out what the problem was with her scenario.
“And, you don’t like being a field cascade?” She sighed again.
“It has nothing to do with whether or not I like the taster of hidden threads’ aesthetic sense, it’s the fact that I don’t want to needlessly vandalize someone else’s perfectly good universe.” She gestured expansively out at their surroundings, as if to point out the natural majesty of a world untouched by an outer god with bad decorating sense. There was a moment of silence.
“So… you like corn.” Morgan sighed yet again. “You know you could…” The book started.
“No.” She cut it off before it could say what she knew it would.
“You didn’t even let me finish.” Morgan turned to the indignant tome, paying no mind to the road they were speeding down.
“No, I am not calling forth someone who will turn everything into corn.” She glared at the leather cover that almost managed to match the light patterns that the surrounding cars should have cast on it, almost.
“But…?” She brought her fist down on the cover, causing the bike to bounce up and the metal under the tome to crumple slightly under her rather more than natural strength.
“No, there is absolutely no way I am ever inviting in any idiot who would turn an entire universe into Kansas. That. Is. Final.” She stared at the completely unharmed book until it seemed sufficiently cowed, then turned back to the road just in time to swerve around a truck that had started to merge in front of her. She did this by turning at first one, then two, near right angles to come up next to the truck, ignoring the vehicle that thought it was next to the aforementioned eighteen-wheeler.
After they made several more actions that were most certainly not recommended for anything that would die from being crushed by several tons of high-speed metal, the book finally broke its silence. “He is here, you know?” She ignored it. “I know you can feel it, his taint has permeated the air around us, the ground this device rides upon, even the words that shape this world have is touch woven through them.
Morgan frowned at that. “What do you mean words?” There was an awkward pause.
“Well, this world didn’t form naturally. It was spoken into being.” Her frown deepened at that.
“You can do that?” She was definitely getting a distinctly uncomfortable feeling from behind her seat.
“Well… technically no, I can’t.” She almost turned around again at that one.
“Are you admitting there is something you cannot do?” Yes, it definitely felt like it didn’t want to talk about this.
“I cannot do lots of things, but that’s just because you never want to help with anything.” She smiled at that.
“So, what you are saying is that you can’t do anything of note without someone else doing all the work for you.” There was now a distinct feeling of infinite cold and unending wrath from behind her back. It wasn’t actually unlike the feeling of seeing the sky rip open to reveal the immense unfeeling eye of some alien being of incomprehensible motives and endless hunger, except slightly more petulant.
“I can do more than your feeble mind can comprehend.” She was outride grinning now.
“Really, like what?” The feeling of incomprehensible doom intensified.
“Well, I could tell what was wrong with this world without you helping at all.” She worked very hard not to laugh, instead simply raising a questioning eyebrow.
“Oh, can you really?” The sense of unfeeling, yet somehow malevolent, oblivion shifted towards something a lot closer to self-satisfaction.
“I can. It’s that this world was made by your grandfather.” Morgan nodded.
“I see. So, what you are saying is that not only can you not really do anything without help, but you also already knew the information that you were trying to get me to summon the taster of hidden threads for five minutes ago. Do I have that right?” There was a pause.
“I don’t think I said that.” The feeling of unspeakable doom had given way to something distinctly less impressive.
“I’m pretty sure you did.” Sullen silence was the only response for the next few minutes.
“You know, considering that this universe was designed by your grandfather, and your father clearly has a major presence here…” It finally started.
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“No.” Came the same response as usual.
“But, your father could stop most anyone you invited.” Rather than responding, Morgan turned into an exit ramp.
“Why are we stopping?” The book asked, clearly miffed that it had been ignored again.
“We need gas.” There was a pause.
“No, we don’t. This device hasn’t ever had any fuel.” Morgan nodded sagely.
“Yes, which is why we need it so badly.” The pure irrationality of that response seemed to shut the tome up for the time being.
They exited the interstate into what was likely technically a town, from a purely legal standpoint. From a practical standpoint, it was a road incrusted with as many chains as could feasibly, and likely infeasibly, fit. If there was anything like citizens anywhere around, they were only there to staff the fast food and had been long ago relegated to housing far beyond the sight of paying customers. “Do you have money, because we could…” The book started.
“Yes.” Morgan cut it off.
“Why do you have money? Did you actually remember to create it this time?” They pulled into an off-brand truck stop, and she stopped the bike next to a pump.
“Of course I have money. Who would travel cross country without pocket change?” She pulled out a realistically worn leather wallet and flipped it open to reveal a driver’s license and set of miscellaneous cards, several of which could be used to transfer funds to any account she wished, though where exactly they were being transferred from would be rather difficult to say. There was a pause.
“Morgan Phillips?” The book asked in a not voice that somehow managed to be deadpan without actually being a voice at all. Morgan winced slightly.
“Well, it’s not like anyone will think it’s odd. Phillips is a perfectly reasonable name here.” The book made a non-sound that non-sounded an awful lot like a sigh.
“Well, at least it wasn’t Lovecraft again.” Morgan was starting to feel a little defensive.
“Hey, they didn’t even have a Lovecraft there. It was a perfectly acceptable name.” She started the process of pumping, feeling a distinctly judgmental presence watching her. Hey, it wasn’t her fault she was fond of the classics. She finished filling the tank without her not so legitimate card being rejected, not that she thought it would be. She had gotten very good at creating just the right combination of technology, quantum mechanics and otherworldly impossibilities to make it so neither the credit card companies or the laws of the local cosmos would notice anything wrong. There was always a possibility she had miscalculated one of the variations between universes, or more likely credit card companies, but she doubted it.
She proceeded to pull away from the pump and into one of the parking spots in front of the store itself. The book made no comment, likely in a vain hope that she would leave it alone while she went inside. There was absolutely no way she was going to do that, even if it was unlikely it could get someone to successfully steal it. That wasn’t because it would have trouble getting someone to steal it, but because they probably wouldn’t survive doing so. The book itself wouldn’t kill them. The book would eventually do a lot worse to anyone remotely mortal than kill them, but that would take time. No, the bike itself would deal with the majority of larcenists.
She got off and undid the straps holding the unnatural text. It still had thick cords of something that looked like thread, until you looked closely, crossed over its cover, holding it closed. She attached it to her jacket via one of the several carabiners hanging off her clothing. If there was one thing her indeterminably long existence had taught her, it was that you could always use more carabiners. She was pretty sure any problem could be solved with enough carabiners. They were one of the fundamentals of creation, a tool of infinite possibilities.
She ignored the cloud of disappointment hanging at her side and walked into the truck-stop. The twenty something man who had clearly failed to achieve anything resembling adulthood ignored her as she searched for the supplies she would need to establish herself. After finding a case of sharpies, a road map and a commemorative Kansas spoon, she approached the underdeveloped cashier and waited for him to notice her. After a moment, he looked up from his phone and did just that.
Now, normally a young man faced with an above averagely attractive woman of his own age would focus on her. Even if he wasn’t interested sexually, some scrap of professional competence should have led him to at least pay attention to her. But, his gaze only managed to stay on her for a moment before it slid down to the book hanging at her side. He stared at it in a way for too intent for typical decorum to allow. It was hard to tell, since his expression had looked rather vacant before she ever arrived, but his gaze seemed to lose all awareness of his surroundings as the book became his entire world.
Morgan brought the side of her fist down on the tome in question with enough force to crumple a bank vault door. Luckily, due to the only thing on the other side of the book being her own leg, it wasn’t particularly obvious just how much force she had used. Normally physics would have caused the force to, at the least, travel through her body and cause a number of effects to her surroundings, but she had decided to ignore that for now. “Stop that or I’ll douse you in gasoline and set you on fire.” She whispered at a volume far too quiet for human ears.
The abrupt action had snapped the cashier out of his trance, leaving him looking distinctly confused. Morgan tapped the counter next to her would be purchases, drawing his attention back to his actual job. “Oh, is… is that everything?” He asked, his brain clearly in autopilot as it tried to recover from what was almost certainly its first otherworldly hijacking. She gave him her best it’s okay, we’ve all been there smile.
“Yes, I think this is it.” She responded, distinctly hoping he would shut up and check her out.
He quickly scanned all three of her purchases, a task made slightly harder by how much his hands were shaking. “Did you find everything okay?” He added, as if he couldn’t stand to not say something to distract himself. This time her smile was a little more strained.
“Yes, that would be part of this being…” She stopped as her peripheral vision drew her attention to the sight of someone in disheveled clothes in the process of trying to rummage through her bike saddle bag. The lighting was bad enough outside that she probably shouldn’t have been able to see the attempted theft, but her night vision was rather better than average.
She wasn’t worried about the figure stealing anything, and not just because she didn’t know of anything of note in there. In fact, she didn’t even know what was in there, but that didn’t really matter. It wasn’t like they would survive to get away with anything. “Actually!” She said, with a sudden manic intensity that caused him to jump at the abrupt shift. “Do you carry co-co crabs?” She blurted out, desperate to keep him focused on her.
“Um, what?” She sensed the book at her side do its version of a snicker.
“Smooth. Real smooth.” She ignored it.
“Yeah, it’s a candy bar.” He looked at her as if she was crazy, and she had an overwhelming urge to facepalm.
“I don’t think we carry… that. What do they look like?” The book was outright laughing at her at this point. Although, what it used for laughter was something that could cause most species who could mostly perceive it to die from their nervous systems shorting out.
“Well, they are like these little cookies shaped like crabs and covered in chocolate.” She explained.
“I am pretty sure that doesn’t exist anywhere.” The book commented at her side.
If he had a response to her description, it was cut off by a scream that itself was quickly cut off. His head whipped towards the window, despite the fact he probably couldn’t clearly see what was happening. Thanks to the shockingly abysmal lighting that would have shamed any self-respecting gas station, all that he could likely see was the vague outline of a thrashing mass of… something. Whatever it was, it didn’t look much like any vehicle he, or most anyone on earth, had ever seen. If he had had to guess at that moment, he would have said some giant deformed deep-sea creature had parked itself out front, something that had never had to worry about appearance or reason in its evolutionary process. He turned back to the woman who had been asking him about co-co crabs, only to see something… horrible.
The cashier crumpled to the floor as his brain gave up out of self-preservation. There were certain things that would cause so much damage to process that switching off and risking getting eaten was honestly a better evolutionary strategy. Morgan snapped back to her human façade. She had only revealed her true form for an instant, but it had almost forced her out of this existence. Even after becoming human again, she could feel the world around her pressing in, trying to force out that which couldn’t be. She forced back, insisting that she was real, she was part of it. In a few moments, the effort required to exist lessened and she regained a firm hold on creation.
That had been too close. The bike going wild on her had been enough of a strain, it was part of her after all, but assuming a form that had no way to exist in this world’s natural laws had brought her to the edge of being pushed out entirely. She needed to get anchors into this reality fast. This couldn’t be allowed to happen again. Luckily, she could do something about it. She broke open the sharpies, uncapping one and starting to draw on the counter. She couldn’t risk changing things herself, but there were less direct methods.
“So, you think you broke him?” The book asked near the end if her precise artwork.
“No, he will be fine. His brain won’t hold it. Give him a week and he won’t even have nightmares.” She could feel its non-existent eyebrow raising.
“Or, the image gets shoved down and his subconscious slowly erodes until he descends into complete insanity.” Morgan shrugged awkwardly.
“Well, I guess that is a possibility, but he would have been way more screwed if he had tried to do something about the bike.” There was a pause, punctuated only by Morgan’s intent scribing.
“You could have just broken his neck, or pulled his head off.” She finished the last line before responding.
“Yes, but I try to travel under a take only memories, leave minimal bodies philosophy.” She started drawing a new symbol on her own palm with even more care than before.
“You are the most boring great old one ever. You do realize that, right?” The book finally commented.
“I prefer to think of myself as ecofriendly. Respect your environment and all that.” The book made another of its not actually scoffs.
“It’s not your environment.” She finished the last of the tiny detail work on her palm before responding.
“I prefer to think of everything as mine. You wouldn’t expect me to vandalize my own property, now would you?” The book didn’t respond, likely because it didn’t have any objection to that philosophical stance.
She hopped over the counter and lifted up the still unconscious cashier with one hand. She slipped her other hand under his shirt and laid it flat against his rather unimpressive chest. She focused on the ring of markings around the central one and forced a tiny splinter of will into them. If she had done this with her will alone, it would have strained her already tenuous grasp on existence. However, she didn’t have to. The skin under the central symbol underwent a relatively minor change as the ink forming the central symbol was replicated just under the skin of his chest, creating an instant mirror image of the symbol.
She felt the ever so slight strengthening of her material tether as her true name tattooed itself into his skin. That tether would strengthen farther when he actually saw her name, and even farther yet when others saw it. That would take time, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t speed that process up. She pulled his shirt the rest of the way off, before looking through his pockets. “Are you going to tentacle rape him?” She ignored the books comment and pulled out his phone. One very minor use of will power to unlock it without the passcode later, and she had a picture of the strange unearthly symbol that constituted her existence. She proceeded to post it on everything she could identify as a social media app.
The symbol, while technically inanimate, seemed to change as you followed the lines with your eyes. People who looked at it would consciously know that it didn’t actually change, but would have the unnerving, yet fascinating, sense that it wasn’t the same as they remembered it. If she got really lucky, the pattern would catch on and end up on more people. Even if it was just seen by numerous native sentiences, that would go a long way towards anchoring her in the reality.
She vaulted over the counter again, leaving her hand on the first set of marking she had drawn. After glancing through the cashier’s phone to check that everything had sent, she forced a splinter of will into the counter. There was a virtually undetectable wave of force, and every light in the building went out. Unless she had seriously screwed up, all the electronics in the building, including the cameras, had been rendered useless hunks of junk. “Well, that was dramatic.” The book somehow managed to sound incredibly sarcastic without actually using sound to do so.
Rather than stopping to respond, Morgan simply scooped up her things and headed for the door, paying no mind to the distorted and cracked floor where she had revealed her real face. She was reaching for the door when she paused, turned on her heel, and started back towards one of the now rather dark isles. Around a minute later she left the lightless truck-stop with her original purchases and several dozen brand new carabiners. The book sighed. “Really?” She ignored it.
Her bike was still sitting there, absolutely no sign of any larcenist anywhere to be seen. She dumped her loot into the saddle bag and swung a leg over the seat. The engine started without any apparent action on her part. If anyone had been looking, they would have seen the headlights become pools of infinite blackness, windows into a dark oblivion in which things that had no recognizable existence did something that wasn’t really swimming and wasn’t really anything else.
Luckily, there wasn’t, and a moment later mundane yellow white light shone out. They sped out onto the road, heading towards the highway and the world beyond. There were things to discover, unworldly gods to avoid and a world to claim.