“Are you sure? These realities seem pretty solid to me.”
It is easy to demonstrate. Pick up an object.
Colene stooped to pick up a pretty stone. She had always liked stones, and not just the pretty ones; she knew that each stone was a fragment of something that had once been much larger, and had formed by dint of terrific pressures or an unimaginably long time or both. How was it described in class? Metamorphic, which meant being squished; sedimentary, which meant settling in the bottom of the sea; and igneous, which meant being squeezed out like toothpaste around a volcano. But that was really one of the other two kinds, because it had to have started somewhere else before getting cooked under the mountain. So each one had its history, and every stone was interesting in its own way. She wished she could collect them all. This particular one looked like mica, which was about as appropriate as it could be.
Carry it across realities.
They stepped forward. The scenery barely changed, but the stone vanished.
Startled, Colene looked back. There was the stone on the ground, where she had picked it up. But she knew that what she saw was not the stone she had picked up; it was the one of this reality. She could not see across realities, as she had discovered with the bear that appeared before her. If she stepped back, she would then see the rock she had picked up.
So she stepped back. The rock was on the ground, but not where it had been. It was in the path where she had dropped it. Except that she hadn’t dropped it.
“So I crossed, but it didn’t,” she said, turning back to face Seqiro.
That is correct. We are on the Virtual Mode, and we can transport only substance from our own realities, because the Mode is tied into them. Other realities have only partial effect on us, and we on them.
Colene stared. She was receiving his thoughts, but he was not there! The countryside was empty.
Then she caught on. She stepped toward him, and as she crossed into the next reality he reappeared.
She went to him and hugged him again. “Point made, Seqiro,” she said. “I guess I just hadn’t thought it through. I hadn’t tried to pick up anything, or eat anything—brother! I guess food would vanish the same way, wouldn’t it!”
Yes, it should. My understanding is that it may be possible to retain the substance of intervening realities if it is digested, but that there is danger in doing that.
“Let’s not risk it! Oh, I’m glad I met you! I would have been in trouble pretty soon, just from ignorance.”
It is not shame to be ignorant, when you lack a source of information.
They resumed their walk, angling toward the route she had been following before she detoured to meet the horse. “How is it that you know all this, when you haven’t done this before?”
I learned it from reading the minds of other Virtual Mode travelers.
“But other horses don’t seem to read minds across realities. How can you?”
It is quite limited. I could read your mind because we share this particular Virtual Mode. I can read the minds of other creatures only when we intersect their particular realities. The other horses of my reality can not perceive the Virtual Mode, because only I am its anchor in my reality.
“Just as only I am the anchor in my reality,” she said. “And Darius is the anchor in his reality. Only it’s the place too, isn’t it? Because otherwise when we left our realities, the anchors would fade away.”
Correct. The anchor place becomes inoperative when the anchor person departs; only when the two are together can the connection be invoked or abolished.
“Abolished? You mean it won’t last?”
It will remain until you return and renounce it, just as you accepted it at the start. Or until the Chip that is the source of the full Virtual Mode is changed.
“That would be at Darius’ end.” She considered as they entered a forest and climbed a slope. When the way became difficult, she explored ahead a little to find a better passage for Seqiro’s bulk, because he weighed about a ton, literally, and could not squeeze through places she could, especially with his load making his body wider. “You read the minds of folk on other Virtual Modes before this one, though you were not part of those Modes?”
This seems to be my special ability. I have always sought to explore the unknown, and when I became aware of a trace mental current I could not identify, I sought it avidly. Perhaps others of my kind could do the same, but they have had no interest. In time I was able to fathom enough of the occasional Virtual Modes to understand their nature. I teamed that I could join one, if I wished, if I exerted my will at the time it was being formed. I decided that I would do so, when the time was right—and this was that time.
“I’m glad you did,” she said sincerely.
I’m glad it was you who was on it.
She turned and hugged him again. “I hope you don’t mind all this physical contact, Seqiro. I—I guess I have this need, and you’re so wonderful—”
I have not before been loved by a human girl. I feel your emotion, and I revel in it.
“I revel too,” she said. “I never knew I’d meet you, and I never want to lose you.”
I see no immediate need for us to separate. We shall find Darius, and then I will remain with you if you desire. There is no conflict between me and your human contacts.
“No conflict,” she agreed. “But suppose it is dull for you in Darius’ reality? You want to learn new things, and magic might not be to your taste.”
Then I can embark on another Virtual Mode.
“But then we would have to separate, because I’ll want to stay with Darius forever and ever!” she protested.
Unless he too wished to explore farther on a Virtual Mode.
She hadn’t thought of that. “Well, first we have to get there. From what I’ve seen so far, that’s not necessarily a cinch.”
True. We are entering the region of telepathic carnivores. I can feel their thoughts as we progress.
“Oh! Can they hurt you?”
That depends on their size. I would prefer not to get bitten or scratched.
“And you can’t read their minds until you’re in their reality,” she said. “So a tiger could pounce on you by surprise. But not if I go ahead.”
So it can pounce on you? We had better go together.
“Maybe I can get a weapon to fend off—oops, but I can’t carry it across realities!”
My hoof knife may serve.
She dug out the knife. It was a solid, ugly thing. “I don’t know. Most of my experience with knives has been cutting myself, not others. I don’t know whether I could use it effectively against a tiger or bear.”
With my direction you could.
“You mean you could tell me in my mind? But still I might miss, or drop it, or something. Girls really aren’t much for physical combat.”
Allow me to demonstrate. Pretend that tree is a tiger.
Colene took the knife and stepped to the side, toward the tree, remaining in the same reality. “Okay, it’s a tiger. Suddenly I see it, and it sees me, and it gets ready to spring and I panic and—”
She ducked down, then straightened like an uncoiling spring. Her hand snapped violently forward. The knife plunged into a knot on the trunk of the tree.
Colene fell back, letting go of the knife, shaking her hand, for it had taken a jolt. The knife remained in the tree. She had thrust with more speed and force than she had known she possessed. “What—?”