SEE US AT:
Sally and Pat are in the middle of packing up her belongings, getting ready to move everything to her new room.
"Pat, could you grab that pink suitcase for me? I need to start getting my stuff packed up," Sally says, her tone carrying that familiar edge of authority. Pat moves to get it, but there's something sluggish about the way he's moving—like his mind is somewhere else entirely, and even the simple task of picking up a suitcase and bringing it over to where she's standing by the bed seems to require more mental energy than he can muster. Sally notices right away. "You're really not all there today, are you Pat?"
"Well, yeah, of course I'm not," Pat shoots back, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "And you pretending like everything's fine isn't fooling anyone, especially not me. We're in some seriously deep shit here, Sally, and honestly? I'm not comfortable with any of it. The only reason I haven't bailed on this whole crazy situation already is because... well, I've known you forever, I actually enjoy spending time with you, and for whatever reason, I feel this deep connection to you that I can't really explain." He stops for a moment, like he's gathering courage for something. The words I love you more than anything, Sally are right there, practically screaming in his head, but they just won't come out of his mouth. Instead, he deflates a little and continues, "I'm just starting to think maybe coming here to see you was a mistake. I don't think I'm built to handle all this... or you, for that matter."
"Me?" Sally's eyebrows shoot up. "Oh, so now I'm the problem? I don't get it with you sometimes, Pat. You literally make no sense. It's like you have this whole script in your head of how I'm supposed to act, what I'm supposed to do, who I'm supposed to be—and I'm never going to be that person. It's always been this way, hasn't it? Even back in our old life before all this craziness. I think that's why, despite how close we are and how we practically live in each other's heads through the net, we never actually got together. You build up these expectations, and then when I don't perform according to your predictions, you get all twisted up and emotional and weird on me. That's just not the kind of girl I am—I don't respond well to that kind of pressure. So if I seem cold to you, well, that's just who I am. I'm not going to apologize for it."
Pat stares at her for a long moment, like he's trying to sort through everything in his head before he speaks. "I'm not asking you to apologize. I don't need that from you. It just... it hurts, you know? We've known each other for so long—maybe forever, if what these old ones are telling us is true—and I don't feel any of that history coming back from you. A simple kind word once in a while would be nice. You're always sweet with John, he gets all your warmth. All I seem to get is the cold shoulder." He pauses, hoping maybe this vulnerability will crack her walls just a little. "But never mind. I know that's just how you are. You don't have to change for me—I'll accept you exactly as you are." There's hope in his voice, like maybe offering unconditional acceptance will earn him a little tenderness in return. But Sally, true to form, doesn't give him what he's looking for.
"Good. I'm glad we cleared that up," she says briskly, already moving on. "Now can you please get those clothes I hung up in the closet? I want to get them folded and packed away."
"Didn't work out quite like you planned, did it?" the desk clerk asks with a knowing smirk.
"I'm sorry, what?" Pat looks genuinely confused by the question.
"Oh, I see this all the time around here," the clerk says with the weary wisdom of someone who's witnessed countless relationship dramas play out in his lobby. "Young couple checks in all lovey-dovey and sweet, then a day or two later they're back asking for separate rooms."
"Oh no, it's nothing like that," Pat quickly clarifies. "She's my sister. Her boyfriend is coming in from out of town and they need their privacy, you know?"
"Well, that explains everything then, doesn't it? Here's your key, kids. Enjoy the rest of your stay." Pat takes Sally's luggage and carries it for her as they head to the new room.
"Why did you make up that story?" Sally asks as they walk. "The truth would've worked just fine—we're friends, we didn't come here to hook up or anything. He would've understood that."
"I don't know," Pat shrugs. "I guess it seemed like a more interesting story than the truth. Plus, he doesn't need to know all our business anyway."
"That's actually kind of sweet, Pat. I always wanted a brother growing up," Sally says with a genuine smile, the first real warmth she's shown him all day. "So I guess now you're it." She actually giggles as she starts unpacking her things. After selecting a fresh outfit, she begins running water for a bath. Pat settles by the window, watching the busy street life below—people going about their daily routines in this strange place that's somehow become their temporary home. "Don't go anywhere, okay?" Sally calls from the bathroom. "I want to keep talking when I'm done with my bath." Pat nods without looking away from the window, grateful for this small sign that she values his company.
"Pat, I need help getting this damn thing laced up properly. These period clothes are adorable and all, but they're a complete nightmare to get into." Pat turns from the window to help her figure out the complex system of strings and laces that need to be pulled tight to cinch the waist of her dress. It takes him several tries to get it right—there are so many different ties and they all seem to serve different purposes. Sally already has a naturally tiny waist, so when everything's properly adjusted, the dress shows off her figure in a way that's almost breathtaking. She's found some perfume that Penny packed for her, and the complete picture—the way she looks, the way she smells—is almost more than Pat can handle emotionally. He's desperately, hopelessly in love with her, but he's trapped in a situation where he can't express those feelings the way he desperately wants to.
He keeps hoping that time will be kind to him, that someday the right opportunity will present itself. In a strange way, he's almost grateful they're not on Earth anymore. Back home, emotions were so intense they could be completely overwhelming, and he's pretty sure he would've cracked by now—said something incredibly stupid or done something that would've made him look like a complete fool and ruined everything between them.
Pat's actually quite good-looking himself. The men's clothing they wear here in Powder Junction is loose-fitting and doesn't show off the male figure the way the women's dresses do, but underneath those clothes, he's got the kind of build any guy would envy—lean but muscular, everything in perfect proportion.
The resemblance between Sally and Pat is actually remarkable. Sally's mom used to joke that Pat was just the male version of Sally. If you didn't know their history, you'd automatically assume they were siblings, maybe even twins—if such a thing as opposite-sex identical twins were possible.
"Okay, you're all laced up and ready to go," Pat announces. "Should we head back downstairs?"
Sally's expression shifts to something almost melancholy. "No, not yet. Let's talk some more first. There are some things I want to run by someone my own age before we go back down to deal with all the old folks and their complicated agendas."
"What's weighing on your mind?" Pat asks, settling back into his chair by the window.
"Oh, just the entire fucking universe, I guess," Sally says with a bitter laugh. "Here we are, supposedly these fifth-level ethereal beings living in Michael's private mini-universe, but up until a few days ago we completely believed we were just regular people from some third-level megaverse, from that weird little planet called Earth. I mean, with all the magical shit we've witnessed lately, I'm pretty much convinced this is all real, but at the same time, part of me keeps expecting to wake up in my bed back home thinking 'wow, what a bizarre dream that was.' But we're here now, so I guess we just have to deal with it.
Here's what I really wanted to bounce off you, though: doesn't it strike you as incredibly strange that all these advanced beings—Ben, Michael, and I think John too—who have literally billions of years more knowledge and experience than we do, are looking to us to solve problems that have completely stumped them for thousands of years? I know we have more technological experience since we lived through the 22nd century and were plugged into the net and everything. But still, I feel like we're not the ones they really need for this job.
What is it about us that makes them think we're the right people? I'm terrified we're just going to screw everything up completely. I'm not worried about getting hurt or dying—apparently that's not even possible for us—but I would absolutely die if I disappointed John. I can see how proud he is of me, and I just can't bear the thought of letting him down."
"Don't worry about John," Pat says reassuringly. "His love for you is completely unconditional—he's always got your back no matter what. Trust me, if I so much as hint at any criticism of you, he's on me like white on rice." He pauses, thinking. "The way I see it is this: here we are, faced with this problem, and people are expecting us to fix it somehow.
I'm way past the point of fighting against it anymore. It's like we're actors in some cosmic play, and our job is just to go along with whatever script has already been written for us. We keep turning the page and playing out our parts as they're written. I have no idea what the overall story is, how we got cast in these roles, or how it's all going to end. All I know is that the pages are going to keep turning whether we want them to or not, and we have to keep reading our lines.
So I've decided to just go with the flow. Believe me, if I could wake up in my bed back on Earth and discover this was all just some crazy dream, I'd do it in a heartbeat. But we are here, so let's just do what we need to do."
