Episode 7: Those Under Blue Light
CONTENT WARNING: eneral unease, distorted voices, unreality
Intro
You are interfering in something you shouldn’t. You don’t know the story, the characters, the plot. You are fumbling around in the dark trying to put any kind of black stain on the pages. The orange light no longer sees you.
Nor the blue.
You left your recorder behind.
There is nothing out there.
You can’t escape.
(Walkie-Talkie Turning On)
What have you done?
Story One
(Bad Overhead Speaker) Narrator One
The boy ran, he was risking his experiment. Not able to observe all the effects, all the factors. He was doing the equivalent of leaving the room at a critical moment.
No, it could not have been that long, he could not have let that many years slip past, that couldn't be right, there is no way it has been that long.
His breath hitched and his vision blurred. He slowed down just enough to turn the right dials on his radio to send him to the inverse place.
(Microphone) Narrator One
He took in a deep breath, the silence letting him only feel the air going in, then out. Water started streaming down his face as he began to run again, the cold air stung his eyes.
He hadn't gone there since that night. The last time they talked, the day he made her mad, the day he first discovered he could explore the inverse place. He hadn't even gone there in the here.
His foot caught on a rock, his knees impacting on the white concrete. His momentum left him a hair length away from the edge of the blue light. He strabled back, his breath coming in and out hard and fast. His leg started to shake but he didn't see any red. He let out a shuddering breath, leaning his back against the streetlight.
He looked at his hands. Smooth on top, rough underneath. The skin hard where his left pinky used to be. He wasn’t able to feel the top of it, like a scab. Then he felt his face. It was hard to tell with just touch whether it had changed. He hadn't really paid attention to how he looked in the first place. If his face had changed slightly would he even be able to tell? Did he look older? Had he aged? He didn't feel older. He still felt like a teenager. Just a kid on an adventure.
He felt a bitter taste in his mouth. That's what it had said to him. A kid on an adventure, or to do something important. Whatever was easier. He never thought of any of it as easy, fun yes, but not easy. Never easy.
His breath started to steady and he wiped the remaining water from his eyes. When he did he noticed a faded patch of colour near his feet. It could have almost been mistaken for a dark gray. But the boy knew what it was. It was dried blood. His blood from apparently so long ago. His chest tightened at the thought and closed his eyes.
He was not who he was then. He had learned. He was not the naive boy fumbling around with a radio in a place he knew nothing about. He knew the things that roamed here. He knew the things that thought they were in charge. He knew what the price of change was and how to do it. He should go back to the girl from the bookstore. Should continue what he started.
But he needed to know.
He stood up, turning the dials on the radio to turn the next streetlight blue. Easily, simply. It came naturally now. He started walking towards her street. He remembered the stopping and starting he had to do when he first started doing this. How long it took him just to go down the street. How careful he had to be. How scared he was of accidentally turning the lights off and being plugged in to the mercy of the creatures. Now he could run under the lights. Hold a conversion, even write at the same time. His hands shook on the dials, forcing him to stop at the edge of each light before it turned to blue. His walking pace slowed to that of a sail.
A lot could happen in a decade. It had been a decade. A decade. She would have gotten her first car. Graduated high school. Gone to college or maybe even university. The more roads he when down the more spread out the streetlight started to get. Maybe there wouldn't be enough to get him there. Maybe he wouldn't be able to get to her house. He kept walking, slowly.
She would have graduated collage in that time, or dropped out, or dropped out and gone back. His heart skipped a beat. She might have gotten married. She could even have kids. Kids that could already be in school.
A decade.
The streetlights were getting far enough apart that the lights barely overlapped. He started to move faster, his steps matching his heart beats.
There were so many first that he had missed. So many milestones.
A decade.
And he hadn't done any of them. He had never driven a car, hadn't graduated, hadn’t gone to college, would never get married, would never have kids. He had never thought about a life that wasn’t this. Didn't want a life that wasn't this. In the back of his mind though, he always thought he could. That after he had discovered everything, after it was complete he could go back.
A decade.
Streetlights in a line leading to her front door. He slowed down, steadying his hands by gripping the radio dials tighter.
She probably wasn't there. Why would she still be there? She had always dreamed of bigger things. Or at the very least different things. She had wanted to leave this town for as long as he'd know her.
Three streetlights away.
What if she wasn't there? Would he go looking for her? Abandoned his work here just to know what happened to her? He stumbled at his next thought. Could he even leave?
Two streetlights away.
And if she was there what was he going to do? Stand under the light and hope she sees? Yell? Throw stones at her window?. The corners of his mouth twitch up at the idea. Most people couldn't see the blue light or anyone that was under them.
One streetlight away.
What if she did see? What if she ran out and asked where he had been?
He was under the streetlight right outside her house.
What if she didn’t? What if she saw him and she turned away? What if she was still mad?
He put the radio back in his pocket. And held the bones up to the light. The dizziness washed over him.
(Bad Overhead Speaker) Narrator One
There was a soft wind blowing. He blinked his eyes a few times as they adjusted to the dark night. The sun was starting to set early. There was a light on in her bedroom. A flash of long brown hair ran by the window. His breath caught in his throat. He took a step towards the front door. Then another. Stopping just before the edge of the light trying to get a better look inside the window.
She was still here.
She was.
He paused. It wasn’t her. It couldn't be her. The girl perched her head over the window still. Clearly struggling to get her chin over. She eventually gave up and turned and started climbing on top of the bed. Her little arms barely strong enough to pull her self up, legs kicking. Once she got up she started walking up and down the bed arms moving up and down and to the side. Playing out a story that only existed in her head. She looked up suddenly towards the door and plopped down to sit crosslegged on the bed. The door opened just a crake, then all at once. A large figure dove from the door towards the bed and scoped up the little girl and started rolling from side to side. He then threw her in the air and caught her. The little girl had a huge smile plastered on her face. The boy laughed a little despised himself.
The man stayed sitting on the bed as the girl walked around the room. The boy assumed she was telling a story or was showing the man toys that she had on the floor. The man had brown hair like the girls, it was long and tied into a ponytail. He had a muscle shirt on with a skeleton on the front. A band name was printed above it. The boy shocked himself by recognizing the name of the band. Although not the album cover. And definitely not from one of his cassettes.
The man leaned back on his hands and crossed his legs, tilting his head.
The boy’s breath caught in his throat. His friend sitting on her bed, just like that, facing him as he talked from her desk chair. How she would lean back and tilt her head when she was listening. Then the man on the bed smiled. The boy looked away. It was too similar, it felt like looking at an old photo that had been taken, well, years ago.
He started turning the dials on his radio, he needed to leave. The light shifted in the room and he looked back up. A different man had entered the room. Taller than the one sitting on the bed. The taller man lended one hand on the bed and.
And he kissed the man sitting there.
The boy felt his face heating up. He should look away. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t allowed.
He didn’t look away. And he realised then that there was probably so many other things that he had missed, the world could change a lot in a decade.
The little girl climbed back onto the bed and pushed the two men's faces away from each other, sticking out her tongue in a clear yuck expression. The taller man scooped her up and started walking out of the room, turning to blow a kiss to the men on the bed. The man on the bed got up and followed them out, closing the door behind him and turning off the light.
And the boy thought just how much his best friend had turned out to look just like his father, and how much he would hate to hear that.
Slowly and deliberately he sat on the ground. He had walked a long way. For the first time in a very long time he thought about going to sleep. Just laying here and waiting for the sun to come up. Maybe the blue light would turn off, and he would cease to exist. Maybe that would be for the best.
His best friend was still here. He had moved on. He had changed so much. Had a life. The boy thought about how he had smiled. But hadn’t really changed all that much. He was happier now. It had been so long. And he hadn’t looked for him, why hadn’t he looked for him? It's not like the boy had ever seen a missing poster of himself, never an inkling that anyone had ever looked for him. Not his best friend, not his mom, not his school, no one. It was like he disappeared and nobody even cared.
Maybe they didn’t.
The thought struck him like a hit in the face.
You were nothing but trouble for your mom. It was probably a relief for her. Your best friend hated you at the end. School? You had to actually go to school for them to notice you were gone. Fine, he decided, if they didn't care about where he had gone, why should he care about them. Who cared about the things you were supposed to do in life. He had done other things, better things, things that no one else had ever done.
And he had been happy doing all of it. What normal person could say they were happy with their life all the time? This had been a distraction. A stupid distraction.
Over a decade.
In any case he had an experiment to run. He got up from the ground and turned the dials of his radio to turn the blue light on in front of him. He walked to the next light and stopped. He grabbed a rock front he ground and weighted it in his hand. It was painted to look like a frog. He threw it at the streetlight in front of his ex-best friend's house.
It shattered into thousands of sparkling shards
Interruption One
Inside Bookstore
The Girl
No, no, not this one.
Footsteps
Oh! Books on books. I guess that's one way to describe a catalog
Pickles a few books off the self, flips through the pages and places them back
Gasp
Footsteps
Story Two
(Microphone) Narrator One
The light beside him flickered. The blackness disappearing, then reappearing, then disappearing, faster and faster.
Then it turned blue.
He almost couldn’t believe it. He could turn other lights blue. He could turn lights blue in this inverse place. He could explore, he could test.
It had worked.
He took a deep breath and almost leaped to the next light. Not giving himself enough time to think about all the things that could be different. He was glad that the blue lights seemed to be stronger then the orange lights in the other place and the black shining lights in this place. The lights overlapped a considerable amount so the leaping was unnecessary. The idea of running out of the light even for a short distance made his pinky ache.
He braced himself for, something. For the colours around him to change, for the light to suddenly turn off completely, for the creatures for some reason be able to enter this light.
Nothing happened.
He looked to the ground. His bones were still there. Of course they were still there. And now they were just out of the light. He would only have to put his hand of for half a second. He looked carefully at the whiteness around him. Nothing moved. If there were any creatures out there they would be very visible against the white sky, houses and roads. He kneeled at the edge of the light. Pain shot through the pinky that was no longer there. He rubbed his hand. Was he really going to make the same mistake twice? Were bones really worth it, even if they were his?
He stuck his hand out, grabbing his bones and quickly putting them into his pocket. Black filled his vision, glitching and stuttering and close. He slid back, looking up at the creature that seemed to have suddenly appeared. He waited for pain, to know what he had lost. The creature just grinned with perfectly white teeth.
His breath came out in a shutter. He had gotten them, and had lost nothing. His legs shook as he stood up. They can’t get me in the blue light, they can’t get me in the blue light. He said to himself over and over. He turned away from the creature. Slowly he repeated what he had done with the first light. Slowly turning the dials until.
The light turned blue.
The boy did it again and again and again. Never looking at the creatures. Everything seemed to be exactly the same as it had been in the place he was from. Every house, every tree, every street sign. He wasn’t about to rule out that there might be small differences. A flower out of place, a window that was slightly too wide, a different type of tree. However he didn't really have a way to check.
This chest tightened. He didn’t know how to get back. He was trapped. This place was dangerous. There could be other things besides the creatures. He kept moving. If he was able to go back would he be able to change things? Pick a daisy for example. Would it still be in the other place? Would it cease to exist? His blood had been viable on both sides. However while one had dried at what he would consider a normal rate. Here it had stayed fresh for days. Had still been stark red when he had seen it. If he could figure out a way back he could test it.
If he didn’t.
He focused on turning the lights on in front of him. Making slow progress down the street. He didn't really have a destination in mind, he just kept going down familiar roads trying to see if he could spot anything different. The bones had been different. That was clearly something that had only been here. If it had been on the other side he would have seen them. Or someone else would have. He started writing in his notebook, how he was changing the lights, his theories about the bones. If he left copies of these notes here would someone else find them? Maybe they could help someone. He was pretty sure he was the first. But it was very likely he wouldn't be the last. He sighed, he didn't have much room left in his notebook. If he found a way out he would have to get more paper if he wanted to leave notes around.
The sky never changed from its dull white, the black stars never moving. He had been moving for a while at this point. The walk he had done he knew in the other place would have at least taken an hour. And with all the stopping and starting he had to do he had to assume it was much longer than that.
A slow corrupting thought started to enter his mind. One that if true he wasn’t only going to die here, but he would have nothing to show for it. That there was nothing here and the only fate that faced him was starvation or eaten by the creatures.
He kept walking.
Streetlight after streetlight after streetlight. Each one turning blue, flickering and bright. He almost wished one wouldn't turn on, at least that would be something different. Was this a mistake? Had he risked his life for a world with nothing in it? He gripped the radio tighter. No, he had to focus. He could not let his mind wander like that.
He walked.
He started going down streets he didn't normally go down. This meant he had no idea if anything was different. But he couldn’t just go down the same roads over and over and over again could he? Now he could write notes if anything changed in the future.
He was trapped here.
He stopped and took a deep breath in. Then he started walking again.
He was a scientist, he was discovering something big, he was on an adventure, and he was doing something important.
He completely lost track of time and of where he was. In town still, the houses still surrounded him. But he didn't recognise any of the road names. He was completely lost. He felt lighter at the thought. His breath coming in and out easier.
Two white eyes stared at him from the ground. The boy took a few steps back. It was laying right under the streetlight. What would happen if he turned the street light on? Would the creature be trapped in the light? Would it hurt it? Or would it be able to travel to him through it?
It didn’t move.
The boy slowly stepped forward. The creature on the ground didn’t glitch or look like a blurry photograph. It was sharp and
Its bottom half was missing.
The boy took a quick breath in. It was a skeleton, a human skeleton. He turned the dials on the radio trying to turn the streetlight above it to blue. The light would flicker then shut off, over and over.
Then the bones were gone. Like someone had gone to the next slide of a slide show.
He tried the dials again and the light flickered to blue. Easily, like there was never a problem. He didn't step into the next light. He took his pinky bones out of his pocket and held it up to the light above him.
(Bad Overhead Speaker) Narrator One
His stomach dropped and he felt his knees crack on the ground.
Sound returned
Interruption Two
Nights sounds under a blue streetlight
The Boy
Very upset, was just crying
Fine, fine! Fuck it.
Under his breath
I don’t care about you either. I have research to do.
Radio turns on, beginning part of “Everybody Thinks There The One To Get Away” by Blue Jay Walker Play, then radio turns off.
(Mirophone) Narrator One
Spoken lyrics from song But he's your friend and he's mine too,
And he gonna do what he say gonna do,
It's a shame every promise that he made was a fake.
Story Three
(Bad Overhead Speaker) Narrator One
There was a girl who worked at the bookstore. She had been working there five days a week, 8 and a half hours a day ever since she graduated high school.
“Could you imagine a life like that?”
The boy asked the old woman beside him. She looked up and looked towards what the boy was looking at.
“Like what?”
“Haveing a place that you have to be everyday.”
“Like school?”
The old woman said with a slight twist of her lip.
“No, not like school. You're supposed to go to school everyday. You don’t need to.” The boy replied. The old woman rolled her eyes.
“You know, most do have to go to school every day. I seem to recall you would get in trouble if you didn’t go.”
“Okay, yeah, but like. Okay, so school if i didn’t go the consequences would range from nothing, because no one found out, to my mom would yell at me and sometimes I didn't get dinner. But like work seems, well the consequences have to be worse than that. Otherwise why would people go? Like this girl,” He pointed to the girl placing books on the bookshelf. “She looks miserable. Way to miserable for a job that looks, I don’t know, pleasant? I mean it's not like she's picking up garbage or cleaning toilets or something.” The boy kept staring at the girl as if that would give him the answers as to why she was still there. The old women beside him spoke
“The consequences aren't really that different. If you don't show up to work your boss will be mad. Eventually you would get fired. You wouldn't have any money at this point so no dinner either."
The old women knew that it was a lot more complicated than that. That there were tons of reasons people stayed at jobs they didn't like. However when talking to the boy it was easier to reinforce what he believed rather than explaining. That is if she wanted to get back to her book. He was smart but he had to come to the conclusion himself. He was still a teenager and his first instinct was to oppose, refuse and question. Her statement bought her enough time to read a couple more pages.
“Do you think I would have ended up like that?”
He said it softly, she didn't think he meant for her to hear. She could just keep reading.
“If you want me to be honest? Yes, worst even. It would have been a choice between this or on the streets.”
He looked at her then. “I’m on the streets now, and I’m always happy.” He of course didn't understand. The thousands of kids like him that ended up on the street. She saw how lots found community and acceptance. Found purpose in fighting. But she also had seen many die in the face of something that couldn't be fought. Not by them. And those that could fight it thought that those dying deserved it. Few survived, and their lives weren’t necessarily better for it. The boy was better having a life like this, even incomplete as it was.
“Many wouldn’t like living a life like yours.” The old woman said.
Most would find it at the very least stressful, the old women thought. Dangerous with a purpose that is completely self fulfilled. It wasn't like the boy could share his finding with anyone that mattered. The most he could hope for is that someone found his notebook and believed that what was written in it was true and not the rambling of a crazy person.
“Do you think there are some people that would? Like living like I do?” The old woman looked at the boy's face. The boy was still staring at the window as he talked. If she didn't know better she would have thought that he might have gone ill placed feeling for her. The old woman sighed. It was becoming clear it was much simpler than that.
The boy was lonely.
The old woman looked back at her book before the boy noticed.
“No I don’t” The old woman hoped this would be the end of the conversation.
“What if I could prove that people could?” The boy said. A lightness entering his voice. The old woman gripped her book tighter.
“Like if I could get someone to see the blue light and join me. Or more people even.” The boy started to speak faster. “Maybe even a whole team of people. We could bounce ideas off eachothers. Explore time sensitive things, be able to observe things from both sides.”
The more he talked the more his eyes lit up. Hands gesturing in front of him. The old woman's lips curled down. This boy was gleeful talking about putting people in the line of sight of it.
“I don't think you should.” The old woman said sharply. The boy's eyebrows rose.
“What? You don't think I can? If that thing can pick and choose people, then why can't I ?”
The old woman shook her head. The boy never listened to her words. “And I would be doing it for a better reason. The people I chose would be happy! They wouldn't be like-”
“Me?” The old woman interrupted. The boy paused, then stood up.
“Yeah, exactly.” The boy turned the dials on his radio disappearing like he had walked behind a wall. The old woman didn't move, couldn't move.
She was made of stone.
Interruption Three
Busy coffee shop
The Girl
You know about the blue lights?
Narrator One
Yes, you’ve seen them?
The Girl
Yes, yes! And there's this boy, his name was-
Interrupting Narrator One
A boy? Did he carry around a radio?
The Girl
Pause you know him too
Narrator One
Yeah I do, but not as much as you seemed to. You've been looking into him haven't you? What are you looking to find?
The Girl
Who are you?
Narrator one
Low buzz
The Author
Story Four
(Mirophone) Narrator One
He was still where he was in the blackness, the void. Only he could still see, his hands at least the radio, his feet, the bones. All still illuminated by a steady, dim orange glow.
It was the only way.
He ran.
His slapping feet thunder in his ears. He spent so much of his time in complete silence that even this was setting his ears ringing. The orange light was definitely getting closer. It was getting bigger at least. But it didn't seem to be getting any brighter. He had assumed the light was close. He could look right at it as he ran and there was no pain. But the further he went the more he realized how far away it actually was. Was the light able to reach so far because of how complete the darkness was? Or was there less stuff in the air to obstruct it?
Slowly the light seemed to, changed. The boy didn't know how else to describe it. It went from being this shining dot in the distance, like a light from a window, to a light that beamed. Like a spotlight, a spotlight that shone only on him.
The light started to rise as he came closer. Higher and higher until he had to crane his neck to see it. Eventually he had to keep his eyes in front of him. The only indication of the light is that it still shone and followed him. He had to trust that it wouldn’t just disappear as he ran into the complete void.
A shape started to form out of the darkness. Tall and solid. The boy finally slowed down his run to a walk. So much running in such a short time was starting to catch up with him. His lungs burned and his throat ached. He was tempted to take off his coat, just to get a little breeze in this still place.
He kept the coat on.
The shape in front of him was massive. His already over taxed heart attempted to beat faster as he studied it. He got to the base of it. It was made of concrete, round and cylinder. The bottom of it as big as two cars laying end to end. As tall as a building. For the first time he noticed that he could see colour other than the black, white and orange. White and red stripes ran all the way up the struckcher.
A lighthouse.
It was a lighthouse. The radiating light came from a lighthouse. He walked around the base of it trying to find a door in. There didn't seem to be any. No windows either. Just the rotating orange light at the top. Was the light always turning? Or did it stop and stare when it saw something? He shuddered and leaned his shoulder on the lighthouse. The concrete was cold against his sweaty skin.
He had no idea what he expected to be at the end of the light. An exit obviously. Although it didn't really matter if he was exploring this place or the inverse place really. Except he knew how to leave the inverse place. Everytime he thought he knew what was going on he got thrown another curve ball. He felt the same spark he had when he had first discovered the inverse place. It really was just so exciting.
He went to look out at the void that surrounded him and saw.
Everything.
The whole city spread out before him like he was on a plane. But also he could see every detail of every building and road and flower and window and streetlight.
And people, all the people all at once. What they were doing, feeling, more and more details started to fill in. Their memories, goals, ambitions, regrets, disappointments, fears. All of it burned into his eyes, ears, and mouth, lighting every single one of his nerves on fire. More and more and more.
There was a little girl. Multiple small braids swing from her head. Back and forth, back and forth. He heard the creaking of metal. A little girl swinging on a swing set in a world of just blue light. Then the boy was facing the lighthouse again. Something was squashing his arm. Then all he could see was a face. Close enough that only its eyes were in focus.
“What are you? What are you doing here?” The voice was low and breathy. The boy couldn't help thinking that something was missing from it. Like someone you usually talked to on the phone suddenly being right beside you. The boy pulled back, he didn't like how much of a habit getting grabbed was becoming.
The face asked again. “What are you?” Its voice quivered a bit. The boy stuttered, but introduced himself. The face shook its head.
“No, no, no, no, no,” The face’s gripe became tighter. The boy cried out as it dug its nails in. “What are you? What!”
The boy was pulling against the grip now trying to put any space between him and the thing that gripped him.
Thing.
The boy looked at the face again. Studying it.
“A human.” The boy finally said “I'm a person.”
The thing's shoulder fell and it titled its head back, then it grinned. The boy's eyes widened. He knew this thing. Had seen it just a few moments ago. But it didn't seem to recognize him.
(Echo Source)
“Just a person?”
(Mirophone)
The voice had a hint of what it the boy thought was missing. A vibration like a plucked string.
“Just a person.” The boy wanted to add more. Saying ‘just a person’ sounded dismissive. He was a person, yes, but there was so many other ways he would describe himself.
Smart, curious. A scientist.
He was a scientist.
The thing loosened its grip on his arm. The boy stepped back out of it reached. Now that he could look at the figure in full he tried to memorize every part. Its face, hair, clothes, mannerisms. Why did it not remember him? Why was it so clear now, voice and look? Why was it so concerned with confirming he was a human?
“Oh this will be fine then.” The figure straightened its back and lifted its head. All sense of fear completely gone from its face. “I hadn’t been planing of adding any characters so soon, and I can't have you coming back here.” The figure put its finger on its chin and taped it. “I’ll let her take care of you. Or at the very least she’ll keep you from interfering.”
The boy felt the dizziness and braced himself to finding himself in the other place.
(Echo Source)
“Don’t look for the lighthouse again.”
Outro
(Bad Overhead Speaker) Narrator One
I pace in front of the swing set. The squeaking in pace with my footsteps.
"It's not working as intended." I say.
The girl continues to swing, not offend, I have never seen her express an emotion as complicated as that. It was also not a question and she was not allowed to wonder what I mean. So she continues to swing.
"It’s just, it's like an inside joke right? If you don't get it you won’t laugh at the same time as everyone else and it’s not funny if you explain. All of humanity is like that. A huge inside joke. How would you explain why humans do what they do to something that's never experienced it? And then you tell it to observe, to watch and remember? An audience like that would be like a camera, perfectly accurate and understanding nothing."
There's a long silence where the only sound was the squeaking of the swing.
"Thats what you asked for."
Shes right, in technically, that is what I asked for. That's the problem, it's exactly what I asked for, nothing more, nothing less. She made something like her.
"I don't think there's a way for me to explain this to you. It's just wrong."
"I can only do what you ask, it can't be uncertain."
I take a deep breath. I couldn't wonder here. I try and think of a better way to explain. Uncertainty made this place unstable.
"It needs to be a human, or someone that used to be human."
She stopped swinging. Abruptly, like the swing had been grabbed and forced to stop. Her feet didn't reach the ground.
"Are you volunteering?"
No uncertainty, no fear, she is bound by the same rules as you.
"No, of course not, that would defeat the purpose. It needs to be a human."
No uncertainty.
"This human could report only to you?"
"It can’t ever see or know anything about you."
"Why?"
That question caught me off guard. It was a little to close to wondering, uncertainty, to making assumptions and guesses. Things that could not exist here. Things she could not do.
"Because," I hesitated, trying to come up with a reason without wondering. "It would mess with the purpose, make it unusable."
Lies.
Lies were allowed here, easier even.
She started to swing again.
She couldn't wonder if what I'm saying is true.
No uncertainty.
"What should the lights look for?"
Thinking was so hard here.
"It should be from a time where there are less social bias towards others. Were it socially considered bad to hate others based on things they can't control. A time where there is no extreme political strife, things that are easy to ignore. Or war. At the very least none that would affect the human. It should also not be on the receiving end of too much bias, although one needs to experience a little as to not be completely ignorant of its existence. Young, so as not to have hatred to those younger. But old enough to have experienced life, and not jaded enough to hate those that are older." I pause. "Is that possible?"
"No."
That answer should not have surprised me as much as it did. But of course. No human would ever be like that. A human born in a world without bias, no political entanglement in a time with no war? It was impossible. If it was then the audience wouldn't need to be made in the first place.
"I need to leave." I say. I need room to think. I don't say.
"I will see you later."
I start to walk towards the bush that is the barrier between this world and mine. She had started saying that only recently. 'I will see you later'. She used to say 'goodbye.' The first time she had said it, it had felt like someone had dumbed cold water down my back. For her to say that she had to be a hundred percent sure that we would see each other again.
No uncertainty.
We would see each other again.
I could leave if I wanted, never go back. Live like I never walked through some bush into a world of a God. But she was certain I would come back. It felt like I had to. That if I didn't she would make it happen. She would haunt me for the rest of my life. The idea of her watching me with that blank expiration on her face, made me want to tear her entire world apart.
Outro Music
Credits
Blue Flickering Street light is written, edited and performed by Karma Night and is produced by Lanterns Aura
Intro and Outro music is by Aleksander Kordov
Logo is by Racc00n_with_a_Sp00n
The Boy Under Blue Light is voiced by Dod
The Girl At The Bookstore is voiced by PawsitivelyAnna
“Everybody Thinks They're The One To Get Away” is used with permission by Blue Jay Walker
All other sounds are either recorded by Karma Night or are from Freesound.org under creative commons
For updates follow us on Instagram, Bluesky or Youtube under Lanterns Aura
Tumblr under Blue flickering Streetlight
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Or visit our website LanturanAura.com, this is also were you’ll find transcripts of episodes
All Links in show notes
Thank you so much for listening!
After Credits
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