That brought another concern. “How will we know if it’s too far? I mean, if it is, we should turn back, so at least we don’t die of hunger or exposure. But if we turn back, when we could have made it across—”
If we reach what we deem to be half our ability to travel without new supplies, and I still can not detect life ahead, then we should turn back.
“You can detect life behind us?” she asked. “I mean, you’re not just thinking that to reassure me?”
It is fading, but I can feel that life behind.
“Okay. If you get so you can’t feel it behind, and you still can’t feel it ahead, we’d better turn back. That’s not the same as giving up; it just means we’ll have to find a better way.”
Agreed.
Yet privately she wondered what better way there could be. They would not be able to go around the barrens the way she had around the hostile bear, because these were entire realities, each one a universe in itself. If there were a million of them, they just had to be crossed, because there didn’t seem to be any way to skip over parts of the Virtual Mode.
Well, if they had to retreat, maybe Darius would be able to find a way from the other side. She was sure that he was looking for her too; he wouldn’t have set up the Virtual Mode and then just twiddled his thumbs. They could meet in the middle. So maybe he was coming to the other side of this now, and was thinking about how to cross, and all she had to do was go back and wait.
But she was more independent than that. She wanted to make it on her own. So she hoped they made it across.
I echo your sentiment.
“Oh, was I thinking too close to the surface? I didn’t mean to bother you with this!”
I am becoming increasingly attuned to your mind, so can read more deeply with less effort. I did not mean to intrude. “Oh, no, that’s all right, Seqiro! You understand me, the way Maresy did. I don’t mind you in my mind. I just didn’t want to burden you with my worries.”
You are concerned about survival now, rather than death.
She laughed, somewhat self-consciously. “For sure, I’m not being suicidal, now that I’m up against possible death! I’m reacting in a disgustingly normal way. I guess that’s an improvement.”
You have reason to live now.
“Yes. Because of Darius—and you, Seqiro.”
But if you lacked these folk, your self-destructiveness would return.
“I guess it would. I’m no bargain, emotionally.”
If you had not had those bad experiences, you would not have become self-destructive.
“Well, I don’t know about that. Those experiences weren’t necessarily bad, just different or shocking. I hadn’t known how the people lived in Panama; plenty of other people do know, and they aren’t suicidal. I did a lot of good at that hospital, and the doctors and nurses aren’t suicidal. The rape scene—that I could have done without. But I didn’t get beaten up or anything, and I was so drunk I may even have thought it was fun at the time. It sure taught me to be wary of liquor and of men! That camp episode really worked out okay, and word never got back to my folks what had really happened. It taught me not to trust anyone, not with my true secrets, and that was a good lesson.” But you trust me.
“Now, why did I know you were going to come up with that? I guess I am breaking my rule. But I also guess I meant not to trust anyone human. I trusted Maresy, because she’s a horse, and horses can be trusted. You’re a horse. Trust just sort of comes with your territory.”
I like Maresy. But there are many horses in my reality who can not be trusted. You are as foolish to trust an animal blindly as to trust a human being blindly.
Colene sighed. “I guess I am. Okay, I won’t trust any other animals either. But is it okay to trust you, Seqiro?”
Me alone, he agreed. Yet do you not also trust Darius, who is human?
That set her back. “I don’t think I do trust him, exactly. I love him, but that’s another matter. When he told me of his wonderful magic land, I didn’t believe it. I wish I had! So I guess there is danger in not trusting people too. I hope he forgives me!”
He must have forgiven you, because he set up the Virtual Mode, so that he could rejoin you.
“Yes, he did that.” Then she paused in her descent of a slope. “Seqiro! Is it possible that it wasn’t Darius who set it up? But someone else? I mean, how would I know, for sure?”
If it was Darius, you will know when you meet him.
“Unless it’s someone just pretending to be him, because he wanted an innocent girl or something. Lots of men want young sex-slaves. I really don’t know Darius that well.”
I will be with you. I will know his mind.
“Yes! You will know his mind, Seqiro! You must let me know whether it’s really him, and how he truly feels about me. I’m not going to marry him, I know that, but I’m willing to be his mistress and helper if I just know he loves me.”
I will inform you of his feeling for you, if you don’t object to my intrusion into your private matters. Understand that I will be partial to his sexual sentiment as well as his emotion.
“I understand! I want him to want me, every which way from Sunday! Just so long as he loves me!”
It shall be known.
They continued into the waterless ocean, which seemed even more barren than the continent, because of what should have been there. A continent could be a natural desert, but an ocean could only be an unnatural desert.
That brought another horrible realization. “Seqiro! Suppose we reach the next living reality—and we’re at the bottom of the sea? We could drown!”
She felt a wash of panic, and knew that her thought had struck through to his natural mind. It was a horse’s nature to spook and run from danger. So it seems. But your intellect suggests that we might simply retreat through the boundary between realities and be dry again.
“Well, at least we wouldn’t be thirsty!” she exclaimed too cheerily. The notion of being suddenly under a mile or so of water terrified her. She realized increasingly that though she had been suicidal, she was quite choosy about the way she might die. Water would be too suffocating, and she didn’t like that.
It would also be crushing. Suppose they were crushed to death before they could retreat? “I think we had better be pretty careful how we cross boundaries,” she said, shaken. I will detect the ocean life, which will give us warning. “Not if it’s a sterile sea!” For now she realized that the presence of water was no guarantee of life.
I will flick my tail across them, Seqiro suggested. “But you would have to travel backwards! No, let me take something of ours—here, this kerchief of mine will do—and I’ll flick it ahead of me, and when it gets wet, we’ll know.”
Agreed.
They moved on, with Colene ahead, constantly flicking her kerchief as she approached each boundary. It became automatic: one, two, three steps, flick, step, flick and step across, and start over. It was about five of her steps between boundaries, about two feet per step, but she wanted no accident. It would have looked strange to an outsider, but it was a sensible precaution.
Now she was not sure whether she did or did not want to encounter such an ocean. If they found no water, they might have to walk thousands of miles through this dread desert, and would die of dehydration; already their water supply was diminishing at an alarming rate. But if they did find it, how would they get through?