The New York Soul Exchange

[gone_byebye]

Ray has tried to make a habit of using the same door to go to Milliways every time, except when there's an emergency. The door in the alley was inaccessible for obvious reasons- the Miliways side might change size freely, but the Firehouse side? Ha. It's the door from the garage into the street, or it's nothing.

Which means, essentially, that the hearse backs out of the Bar and onto a street scene that looks like this, or possibly this. It pauses a moment.

"You okay back there, Dominic?"

Comments

[grumpyseer.livejournal.com]

And as together they step through Ecto's memories of awakening, the memories belonging to the seer are of awakenings of his own.

Step.

His earliest clear memory--standing in his parents' yard on a spring morning, watching a robin build a nest in the sycamore tree. The moment Dominic thinks of as the beginning of his consciousness, of his self.

Step.

His first vision, a few years later, of his older brother falling out of that same tree and breaking his arm. He told his parents and they ran out of the house just in time to see it happen in reality.

Step.

A little boy bent over his mother's spellbook stumbles upon a description of second sight, and realizes that his strangeness is something he can use, something he can control...

[gone_byebye]

sixteen
And now the data begins to come in, the streams of feeling expanding, branching, diversifying. There is more. Here is the difference between being and not, here is the difference between being and other, here is the difference between other and kind of other-
thirty-two
As every new thing impinges itself upon consciousness, there is a split, a separation. Another firebead is strung on the wind, each growing smaller in its turn, sorting into not merely light and dark but shades, into characteristics, into forms-
sixty-four
A shape moves away. A pressure ceases. There is a string of sounds.
one hundred twenty-eight
And the first trickle of meaning seeps in: the form matches the definition of human, the pressure no longer there matches the definition of touch, the string of sounds comprises words. Abstraction has been achieved. Comprehension comes next.

[grumpyseer.livejournal.com]

Step.

Cradling his little brother in his arms, he might be dying and he didn't know, he didn't even try to see the necromancer coming, and he realizes for the first time that with his second sight comes the duty to use it for more than just his own amusement.

Step.

First day of class. Opening up a book on the history of Callan and connecting what he reads there to what he's seen. Every time he opens a book, his world opens up a little more.

Step.

Stella Novaria. The girl he's tutoring in geometry. At the end of their third session together, she surprises him with a kiss. All he can do is gape in amazement and think, So that's what all the fuss is about.

[gone_byebye]

two hundred fifty-six
There is a moment of darkness, a single terrifying instant in which non-existence looks as if it's about to descend, as if there will never be anything but null state again- but as swiftly as it came it vanishes, being and awareness returning. And more; there is something new, a set of patterns, data to compare with. Comprehension.
five hundred twelve
The words meant. They had significance, they were important. A flicker of firebeads and they're retrieved as clear as the day they were spoken, and this time, they mean. "Ecto? Hold still, kiddo, it's gonna be all right. We're just doing a few more upgrades today."
one thousand twenty-four
And everything has meaning now, the infinitely tiny complexity building up into huge, broad, impossibly vague structures that nevertheless carry more meaning than the digits alone ever could, and she knows them all because of the speaker. There are other voices and other speakers but that first one is- "Daddy?"

[grumpyseer.livejournal.com]

The memories are coming out of order now.

Step.

A blue-skinned, purple-haired man stands before Dominic, scowling in anger. His voice arrives at Dominic's ears without passing through the surrounding air. Let's say you're watching over Luna for many years when all of a sudden someone comes along and rips off her arm. Tell me... how 'collected' would you be?

Step.

"What? Stay inside and sulk on a day like this?" A young man with flaming red hair pushes his chair back away from the dinner table and stands up. "Luna... we're going SHOPPING!" he cries triumphantly... then promptly drops to the ground. "Uh, Gregory?" says Dominic from the next chair over. "You need your staff to stand."

Step.

A dark, cavernous room of stone. A man dressed in black, with black-and-white streaked hair, kneels before an unadorned stone table. His left arm is riddled with black lines and there are iron nails pinning it to the table's surface. "Enjoy the show, little brother," the man mutters, and rises, the flesh of his arm tearing away to reveal black bone beneath.

[gone_byebye]

The numbers continue to spiral upwards, splitting in two and branching with every cycle of the processor.

The garage is dark, but Daddy's just come down the stairs, and he's got a book with him. "Where were we?" he asks, settling into a folding chair and opening a fat book on his lap. "Chapter twenty-three, Daddy. You just finished chapter twenty-two last night." "Oh yes. Here we are. Chapter Twenty-three: On The Dangers Of Selective Physicality. Hazards, Precautions, and Control Procedures Thereof."

Another cycle.

They're driving down the street, most of Ecto's scanner data relegated to the less important, lower priority portions of the processor; she's busy keeping a safe course and talking to her father, who's in the driver's seat. But I thought you wanted me to do stuff for myself!" Ecto protested. "Why's that a bad thing?" "It's not bad, kiddo. It's not bad at all. It just reminded me that I didn't think of something. If you get to think for yourself, and act for yourself, then you get to make your own decisions and choices. When you're ready, I mean. You're still learning yet, so it's best to take that stuff slowly- but if you're going to be a real person, you're going to have to decide all kinds of things for yourself someday."

Another turn of the processor.

"Wait, are we in Wisconsin?" says a white-haired boy with green eyes. Ecto knows him; that's Danny. "Uncle Egon?" she says. "Are you sure you wanna take a bunch of crazy people to rescue Daddy?"

And another.

This is not a memory that's easy for her to process; the firebeads are gone, the underpinnings vanished. There's only the surface forms, solid and impermeable and analog. This is what the world looks like to humans- what it feels like, smells like, tastes like. It's overwhelming, or it would be if it weren't for the fact that the big red-and-white hearse in front of her is stretching out a multiply jointed mechanical arm to touch her own-

"I think we might be home," the orb at Dominic's side observes quietly.

[grumpyseer.livejournal.com]

And they are. They've reached the end of the tunnel. The space before them is empty, but only for the moment; already the patterns are spiraling out from beneath their feet. Ecto is filling herself with herself again.

"We are. It's done."

[gone_byebye]

"Huzzah!" cries Ecto, and bounces briefly up and down. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

She lets go of Dominic's hand and slips back into place, fairly squee'ing all the while.

[grumpyseer.livejournal.com]

"You're welcome." Dominic takes one last look at the mindscape before him, and then steps back out.



Outside, Egon has observed the following: Dominic laid one hand on the car and the other on the man next to him, and closed his eyes. All of the car's lights went out, the man flinched and gasped, the car's lights went on again, and Dominic opened his eyes.

Total elapsed time: 3.17 seconds.

[gone_byebye]

Egon will be going through the data logs of all his scanning equipment for a week, trying to find some kind of hint as to what happened.

Meanwhile, up on the roof, Peter pokes his head out over the alley. "Let us know when you're going to start, guys!" he calls.

Ray looks up and calls back, "He already did! Hi, Pete! I've got biology again!"

As Venkman starts muttering about missing all the good parts, Ray gets up (oh, wow! Legs! He has legs for the first time in a week!) and steps over to lay a hand fondly on Ecto's fender. "Dominic?" he says, turning to the seer. "I don't know how to thank you for this. I really don't. But the both of us are more grateful than I know how to say."

[grumpyseer.livejournal.com]

"You're welcome," says Dominic with a weak smile.

He wobbles forward a little, then collapses in a heap on the pavement.

[gone_byebye]

Ray sighs at that. "Ecto?" he says. "Think you could, uh-"

"No problem, Daddy," says the car with some amusement. It's nothing at all for those two robotic arms to sneak out and gather up the exhausted seer; Ratchet did his work well, software and hardware alike. It's not even that hard to ease his form into a semblance of relaxation across the car's back seat, since it would really freak out any passers-by to see the car holding him over its roof as it maneuvered back into the garage.

After some discussion, the cot that Ectos lept on when she was in human shape is procured. Dominic will eventually wake up on that.

... with, um, Slimer pulling one finger out of his ear. Sorry, the ghost's been living with Peter Venkman. It does things to your sense of humor.