> SMS
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> Sapphic Sensei (aka Mika IntroArchaeoTA)
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> [Load 5,832 previous messages?]
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> Today 8:56 PM
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> best news: i went on a run tonight & bit it so fucking hard 🥳🥳🥳
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> like, absolutely ate surface
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> i tripped at the old track, by that pitch where the girls’ footie squads all practice
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> & these three well-fit footie jocks patched me up then walked me home
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> 😳😍😏
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> obv we talked
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> & i think we made that kind of connection you told me about
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> like, we Proper Talked?
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> so i think i made new friends? 😆😆
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> plus you’re going to love this:
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> one of them was that girl i always notice at the jericho
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> the one with really good arms 💪💪😳
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> then… while i was super out of it after my fall… i called her “good arms jock”
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> like, directly to her face
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> that was basically how i introduced myself
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> 💀💀💀
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> 🤦♀️🤦♀️🤦♀️
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> obviously she loved it
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> Today 9:21 PM
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> Haha
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> 😭😭😭☠️☠️☠️🫡🫡🫡
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> BEYBE
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> Sksjfhjskj
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> Babygir
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> Babygirll
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> I showed this to Hrefna
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> & now she’s dead too
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> & now she wants me to start calling her “Nice Tits Nerd”
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> So I’m blaming you in 5 minutes
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> When she refuses to give up on this and I have to break up with her.
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Simkha smiled at her phone. She couldn’t describe Mika’s message as the explicit positive feedback that Simkha had hoped for. But at the same time, Simkha couldn’t expect explicit feedback. Because she’d never asked for explicit feedback. Simkha had never even admitted that Mika was her de-facto socialization mentor. But Simkha supposed that Mika might have assumed the truth. Simkha didn’t have any other definitely-friends at First Oxford, and Mika must have known it. Regardless, Simkha felt like Mika’s message had conveyed a generally positive tone. Simkha was willing to count that as implicit positive feedback.
After Simkha sent her original texts, she’d put her phone down and forcibly distracted herself. She wanted to avoid obsessing over every little faux-pas she’d made talking with her new jock friends today. Simkha let herself play the newest EP by Nxdia on a loop. She tricked herself into believing she couldn’t check her messages until she’d separated and stored the clean and dirty clothes strewn about her bedroom.
As such, Simkha was too distracted to convince herself she was a burden on her new jock friends while she waited for Mika’s response.
And while Simkha didn’t exactly feel socially reassured by Mika’s response, Simkha did enjoy the window onto the banter between Mika and her girlfriend. Simkha could imagine the back-and forth while the couple got dressed up for drinks and dancing.
Simkha blushed to recall the way Hrefna’s sultry outfits typically clashed with underclothes. Simkha internally blamed Mika for sharing that Nice Tits Nerd line. Simkha told herself that she should not allow that particular image to insert itself into her continuous mental slide-show. But in the moment it took Simkha to decide as much, her imagination had already projected a high definition image of Hrefna—peeling herself out of a dress—on the inside of her occipital lobe.
Oh boi.
Simkha wanted a relationship like Mika had with Hrefna. Simkha groaned and buried her face in the nest of pillows on her small double bed. She had re-named Mika “Sapphic Sensei” in her contacts two months ago during a fit of confidence. But Simkha had never actually asked her more worldly friend for dating advice. And any time Mika asked Simkha about crushes, sex, or love, Simkha’s overwhelming anxiety compelled Simkha to change the subject.
Of course, the one topic Mika had agreed to tutor Simkha on was Diplomatic Historiography. The topic that Simkha had failed the exam for earlier today. The exam that Simkha couldn’t even make herself take because of her stupid, broken brain.
Simkha regretted asking Mika for the tutoring help. Sure, Simkha had learned a lot from revising with Mika and Mika’s notes from last year. But Simkha felt so much more shame about failing the exam because she had received Mika’s help. G*d! Simkha had used Mika, and Mika had been so lovely. And Simkha had thrown that hard work in Mika’s face.
Simkha felt that the only decent thing to do was confess everything. She knew Mika would be disappointed in her. She knew Mika ought to give up on being friends with her because she was such a useless sad-sack. But Simkha also knew Mika deserved better than being deceived.
Simkha had no idea how to explain what happened. She was at serious risk of anxiety-ghosting her only friend on campus if she didn’t think of something soo—
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> SMS
>
> Sapphic Sensei (aka Mika IntroArchaeoTA)
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>
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> Today 9:49 PM
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> Sooo how’d the exam go
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> ?
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> Today 9:53 PM
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> Beyb?
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> Today 9:57 PM
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> I can see you typing/deleting on here
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> Oh no, did the exam go wrong?
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> It’s okay if it did
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> You’re still brilliant 🎓🧠🤓
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> I know how down you must feel if it went poorly
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> I SAW how hard you revised
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> ♥️♥️
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> If you’re not ready to talk about it that’s okaytoo
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> Or maybe you did great?
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> And you’re just waiting for me to stop typing for 5 seconds?
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> Today 9:59 PM
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>
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> no
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> youre right
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> i fucked it up
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> i
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> Today 10:03 PM
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>
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> i fucked up so bad
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> i don’t even know how to explain how bad it went
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> i invented a whole new way to fuck up
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> after you helped me with all that revision too
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> im so sorry
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> you were so lovely and supportive
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> a good friend would have
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> just
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> ugh
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>
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> Today 10:08 PM
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> Beyb
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> Beyyyyb
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> It’s okay
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> You don’t haveto apologize to me
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> We’re all about you tonight
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>
>
> Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
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> Today 10:19 PM
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> nut you did so much
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> *but you did so much
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> & you were so good
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> no reasonable person could have sabotaged all that work
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> but iiiii did
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> Today 10:26 PM
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> Stop
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> Beyb.
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> Shut the fuckup
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> Beybee.
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> It’ll be allright
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> Don’t appologize to me
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> *Apollogize
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> *Apologise
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> *Appletini
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> You get to feel sad for you
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> Idk what happened, but I know You’re still a brilliant youngwoman
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> You just had badluck
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> Your brilliant and sexy
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> I know yuo
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> So I know you tied your best
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> Today 10:39 PM
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> idk i did real bad
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> Today 10:53 PM
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> You don’t owe me anythinganyway
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> I it was fun helping you revise
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> Fuck the outcom
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> Your a cute little nerd and my FRIEND
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> I had funnn
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> Today 11:17 PM
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> ♥️♥️♥️
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> lmao, you drunkie
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> why are you perfect
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> i should stop distracting you while youre out
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> go be a ladykiller & dance with your hot gf
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> Today 11:17 PM
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> HAHAHAHA
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> “Perfect”
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> ☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️
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> Beyb I’ve failed fully 3modules in our course
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> That’s 2more than you
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> Even if you turnout to fail todays’ exam
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> I’ll tell hyou Hwæt.
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> Howabout a sad movienight?
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> Tomorrow!
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> We could do that ‘00s Hamlet film you like
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> With the people in hotpants doing Original Pronunciation
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> Today 11:25 PM
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> u r not helpin ur case for not being the perfect friend
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> & i definitely failed the exam
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> & i love you
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> ♥️♥️♥️
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> but i think i just need a shower & to turn in early tonight
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> that okay?
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>
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> Today 11:41 PM
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> OK
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> But don’t you DARE go fullhermit about this
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> You are REQUIRED to see me at the weekend
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> Because your my PERFECT babynerd
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> Because we are FRIENDS
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> &&&
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> You should see your hot new footie friends too
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> 😏♨️♨️♨️
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> 👁️👄👁️
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> ⚽🙈💪💦
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> Today 11:50 PM
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> haha
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> well
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> i can try
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>
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> Today 11:52 PM
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> BTW Hrefna says soz abt the exam
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> & XOXO
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> & ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️
>
> She wants to know if she should “will [me] to [you]” in the breakup
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> I told her that’s not how it works
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> Now she’s threatening to leave me again if I don’t go dance withher
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> Today 11:57 PM
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> lmao go dance
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> Today 11:59 PM
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> Gn gn
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> 😘
----------------------------------------
Simkha let her body groan as she tossed her phone onto her bed. She hooked fingers into cloth to peel off her disgusting, soggy running clothes, then precariously balanced them atop the dirty laundry rising out of her hamper.
Simkha felt bad. She didn’t want to deal with being herself right now. Luckily, she found dissociation easy here at home, free from the stress of having other people around. Simkha released most of her consciousness to roam the void. But she kept just a corner of her brain in the real world so it could march her body to her shower and turn on the hot water.
The majority of Simkha’s attention went where it always went: disliking herself. Simkha had enjoyed her little glance into Mika and Hrefna’s relationship, but she also felt a quiet despair. She knew she’d never be as attractive a prospect as either of them. Simkha doubted whether any woman would put up with her inability to function in even vaguely date-like circumstances.
Simkha well and truly didn’t know how to talk to girls. She had arrived in the queerest town in the Charlemagne League, eager for Uni and chock-full of queer aspirations. She’d found her way to her first lesbian bar. She’d been approached by a very cute girl who asked her name… and she couldn’t remember it. She'd quickly ran back home to her flat.
Simkha despaired for her hopes of expanding her friend circle. After all, she had tried to send Mika a funny story about being a clutz and meeting cool new friends. But almost right away, Simkha had ruined the mood with her sadgirl doom-and-gloom. Then she foolishly refused to lighten up. Simkha was not a fun friend to be around. She was especially un-fun in comparison to somebody like Mika, who was so lovely and supportive. Simkha was certain her new jock friends would figure that out by the time she had a chance to see them again.
Hmm. Simkha wondered how someone as competent as Mika would fare in her circumstances if Simkha weren’t running the show. What would Mika have done if she had ended up stuck outside the exam room, unable to walk inside and take the test? Mika would have… she would have remembered her cell phone, called the professor, and explained the situation. Mika might or might not have solved the issue that way, but Mika definitely would have identified the problem and sought a solution to it. Simkha felt so stupid for standing outside the room for an hour, hoping that just trying harder would make her brain and legs start working again.
When the shower was warm enough, Simkha told her body to get in. She proceeded in a mode of detached, self-critical despair rather than paying attention to the warm, relaxing jet of water. Simkha might as well have been viewing a particularly boring documentary about the shower habits of some girl she disliked. She wondered why this girl started cleaning herself in the weird order that she did. She felt exasperated that this girl had never developed a reasonable skincare routine. She scoffed at this girl’s laziness.
But eventually, Simkha noticed how relaxed the girl in the shower looked. She thought the shower girl must feel great under that warm, inviting water. She eventually remembered that she was the girl in the shower, and she was in charge of her own shower habits.
Simkha closed her eyes and tried to fight the dissociation. She tried to ground herself using a sensory inventory.
The sounds of drumming water. Hissing Pipes. Windows creaking in the wind. The tub, slightly warping when she—no, when I—rock back and forth.
The texture of the water jet, pelting tight back muscles. Mist, billowing up onto legs. Rivulets running down thighs. Conditioner, slick and seeping down a taut neck.
Simkha couldn’t make the inventory work. She could tell that all those phenomena were happening, but she couldn’t actually connect to her senses and feel them. She could feel the edges of sensation. She could tell there was something just out of reach.
Oh. Oh no. Was this the same thing that happened earlier today? Simkha had been stuck, unable to move outside her exam room for an hour. How long would she be stuck here? Was this disconnection itself a hallucination? Was her helplessness nothing more than a delusion?
No. Simkha did not need this. Simkha rallied. She reached out with her sense of self and latched on to every quantum of sensation she could find. She pulled them all to herself and tried to force them onto her body. She would wriggle her way into the metaphysical tight pants of mental health.
Simkha had almost fully pulled herself out of her dissociative state and into her body when she collided with something and bounced off.
Simkha literally bounced off. Bounced off of something warm and soft and slippery. And now she was literally falling—falling in her combo shower-tub, falling out of her combo shower-tub, crashing through her shower curtain onto her bathroom floor.
Simkha landed in a hard, cold, wet splat that hammered her bones and stung her bruises. She heard the curtain-rod fall and felt it bounce off her head, pulling the curtain over her face. She felt the shower spray mist out across the room, still warm as it landed on her legs.
“Fuuuck,” Simkha groaned to herself.
What had Simkha collided with? She only wondered about that for a moment. Because almost immediately, a wet warm body collided with Simkha along her entire length. Simkha shrieked bloody murder. The body squashed her into the floor then schlooped her out to the side. The more Simkha wriggled away, the more the body followed her. It squished her away further and further into the tangled shower curtain and across the wet floor.
From somewhere, a klaxon began to wail, joining Simkha’s screams. The klaxon shook Simkha’s bones. An incomprehensible announcement played over it: “ɮOU ꞭEI S'HNIEY HLEIMD HRRIEG. S'HNIEY LOU TSOULD ꞭEI HNUO. HNA ꞭEI BZIELG GZŊAAƦ.”
Simkha twisted around and saw her assailant. She saw herself. She was being followed, assaulted, and squashed by her own self from just a moment in the past, also shrieking in terror, also trying to move into the area she now occupied. Simkha’s mind considered this observation, and rejected it.
That’s odd, thought Simkha, I’ve never rejected a delusion before.
While Simkha unwillingly wrestled her past self and struggled to process her situation, her bathroom door swung open. From the corner of her eye, Simkha sensed a woman stride in, make an impossible turn, reach into the past, and open the door a few moments earlier. Oh. Simkha couldn’t handle this. She rejected this delusion too. But the delusion refused to go away. Simkha felt a tremendous internal distance stretch out between herself and the impossible scene. She dissociated.
“Hello.” Simkha spoke with a flat affect. “If you are real, would you please call emergency services for me? I’m having a psychotic episode. I just hallucinated you breaking into my flat with time-travel. Which means this room probably isn’t my flat, so sorry about being naked… wherever I am. I have no fucking clue what’s happening.”
Past Simkha landed on present Simkha, sending her sprawling across the floor again. Simkha sensed the new woman kneel down, murmuring gently in a foreign language. Then Simkha sensed heavy metal bands slipped around her own wrists and ankles. Detached from what was happening to her, Simkha thought about what the fuck was going on. She was definitely hallucinating. Perhaps these heavy metal bands were handcuffs, placed on her by EPOs who found her wandering naked around town. Perhaps the bands were some other kind of restraint, and she was about to be abducted and murdered. But EPOs were well-trained, so she would hardly make her situation worse by struggling and screaming bloody murder.
Simkha yanked away with her arms and legs and drew in a deep breath.
“H-huh?” Simkha stuttered. “W-what the fuck?”
The bands did not restrain Simkha at all. They were more-or-less just heavy bracelets. Then a necklace on a wire dropped around her throat.
Ahhh, that makes sense. I’m about to be strangled. That’s unfortunate. I should have screamed when I had the chance.
But the strange woman dropped the necklace, letting it fall loose. She stepped away from Simkha, then turned and stepped out of the bathroom. The woman faced away and pulled down one sleeve of her chunky sweater. She wore a metal band around her wrist, identical to the bands she had slipped onto Simkha. She held the band up to her mouth like an old Dick-Tracy watch and jabbered in the same bizarre language that accompanied the klaxon.
“Tɬeirrd! Tɬeirrd uozd! Dŋaawnb ɬei za! Hla ɬei smleiʁ!”
The announcement changed its call: “ʁWOUM ꞭEI HNUO. TSNYOURR ꞭEI GVRRAŊ.”
Simkha made her body stand up. She felt numb. She didn’t know what she was seeing, except that it had to be part of a delusion. She sensed her body stumble, so she braced it against her past self. She watched her past self shove her present self forward.
Then the metal bands and necklace on Simkha locked in place. They locked in place with respect to the room, holding absolutely still in midair.
With that, Simkha no longer felt detached from her body. She felt her past self push and then crush her into the frozen bonds. She panicked.
Simkha screamed. Simkha felt a snap as her past self pushed through some physical limit, then visceral flesh and bones entered her body all over. She felt them slip and slither through her, forcing two copies of her body into a single body’s space. Disgust mounted, until at last everything seemed to snap into place. Oh thank G*d. That feeling was gone. Just one Simkha stood in her bathroom, naked, nauseated, and leaning exhausted against the metal bands and necklace that had held her in place.
“Fuuu-uuuck!” gasped Simkha. The metal bands unlocked in space. Simkha collapsed on the floor. “Fuck,” she whimpered. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
Water from the shower jet still misted across the bathroom. It hadn’t even gone cold yet. It coated most of the room.
Simkha quivered and quaked and let herself cry.
After a few moments, Simkha sensed the strange woman pass by. Simkha heard the water jet from the shower cut off. She felt a big, fluffy, towel draped over her body. Simkha turned her head to look at the stranger.
The woman knelt next to Simkha. She was short and lithe. She wore a tan cable-knit sweater. Her hair was a familiar tone of red. She gently put a hand on Simkha’s back and began to rub small, comforting circles. She spoke in a foreign language.
“Cheers aat. Thours aat pourft. Gwaar ous tou. Griinz ee tou. Uun cherff. Gwaayt ous dees ous tou.”
Simkha whimpered and tried not to think. She blinked up at the strange woman who was comforting her. After a moment, Simkha’s eyes widened and she started giggling. Giggling turned to laughing.
“G*d,” Simkha sniffled. “This hallucination has been a fucking rollercoaster ride. A minute ago, it was the worst thing that ever happened to me. Now, you’re back. I missed you. I’m glad you’re back. Especially since I’m about to lose all my real friends.”
“Parl rouys meez rouys lee laang Ses′sonzz, nou?”
“I have no idea what you’re saying.”
The woman smiled at Simkha as though she were looking at something precious.
“Sluu.”
“Yeah. Hi.”