Through A Glass, Darkly [3/?]
Title: Chapter Three - Rescuer
Author:
lucentvictrola
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Patrick/Pete
POV: First
Summary: In a technological dystopia, 17-year-old Pete has never known
anything other than the society he lives in. But what happens when he and true
reality crash?
Disclaimer: Never happened, obviously. Title from Ghost in the Shell.
Author's Notes: This chapter is a little longer than the previous ones.
Exciting. :)
1. Norm 2. Psy
Run where you'll be safe
Through the garden gates
To the shelter of magnolias
There's not much time
The blush in the sky begins to fade
- Magnolia, The Hush Sound
So, like, I'm in my room and stuff, except not, cause I'm plugged into a virt
world, one of the ones with plenty of hoverjets and girls and stuff, and it's
pretty good. I'm in a hoverjet and zooming through the sky and I've got a beat
playing real loud on the auds, and there's this girl next me, and she's, like,
the hottest thing since ever. So yeah, I'm kinda putting the moves on her but
then she goes "Time to wake up, Pete" and that's kinda weird, and it's even
weirder when the world gets all staticy and then I'm in my room again, kinda too
dark cause I guess the sun set while I was in the world.
And there's this weird guy outside the port, looking in at me through the glass,
and he looks kinda familiar, but I don't know. He waves his hand and points at
the window and he's mouthing something that I can't figure out. So I go up to
the port and make "what?" faces and shrug a lot, and then he taps the port and
points down and I figure it out and press the thingie to slide the glass down.
"Finally," he says kinda mad but smiling a little when there's no wall
between us. "Norm." And he laughs a little but I don't know what's funny. And
then he grabs my wrist and pulls and goes "Come on," and yeah, this is kinda
creepy, and I ask him what the fuck he thinks he's doing, and he says he's
rescuing me, and then I kind of start to remember.
It's way past time for another pill, I think now, but I don't care, cause wow,
was the world always like this before the pills, brighter and stuff? Well, not
brighter like colors, but my feed's not quite so blaring and it's like there was
smoke in my brain and now it's gone. And I know who this guy is, now, and I find
myself pushing myself up to the port, sticking my legs through, and dropping to
the ground outside, nearly missing the big cloth bag packed full at his feet.
Freedom.
"See, isn't the world good without those neural inhibitors in your system?" the
guy asks, except it's not really a question, I guess. "Believe me, it's even
better without these things." And he taps the metal on his ear, and smiles.
"Let's go."
So we're walking down the street, past all these domestic modules and hoverjets,
and the whole time, he's talking all about how blind "norms" are and trying to
explain something about rats, but I'm just totally confused and he keeps getting
interrupted by my feed telling me about a jet show on Sunday Sunday Sunday. I
just listen to his voice, comforting, like warm soup and soft pillows.
Before I even know it, we've walked... I don't know, but a lot. I'm cold, and my
feet are hurting, and I tell him this, maybe with too much pouting, so he looks
around for somewhere we can sit down and not be out in the open. We decide on an
underpass beneath a jetrail, a rounded tunnel with the top open, perfect for
half-lying half-sitting propped up against the wall.
"In the woods," he says softly as we sit side-by-side, that huge bag propped
under our backs, looking up through the space between the rails, "In the woods,
you can see stars in the sky."
"Stars," I mutter back, and all I can think of are big five-pointed gold shapes
in the sky.
"They're like... oh, I don't know." I shiver, the cold going into my bones,
except, really, for the arm that's touching his. "Cold?" he asks, and he turns
around to unzip the bag and fish out a big blue blanket. "Here," and he puts it
over me. I make him take part of it, too, cause it's plenty big and he shouldn't
have to suffer. I move a little closer, but it's just to make the blanket fit
over us, I'm not trying to cuddle or anything. We talk for I don't know how
long. Hours? Probably. He talks more than me, though, but although he has so
much to say, he doesn't really tell me anything about himself, just the world
and this place called the woods and people who are rats and finally, I ask him
his name. "Patrick."
"Patrick." That's all I seem to be able to do most of the time, repeat things
back. My brain's fuzzy, but not in the pill way, in the sleep way. Before I know
it, I'm waking up to the sun on my face through the rails, and this soft
ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum in my ear. Patrick's heart. He makes a good pillow.
It's all innocent, really. I was cold, and he felt warm, and before I fell
asleep, I guess I rested my head on him. It's as comforting as his voice, lying
against him, and like my stomach is warm and unraveling, and yeah, this is
pretty nice.
Author:
lucentvictrola Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Patrick/Pete
POV: First
Summary: In a technological dystopia, 17-year-old Pete has never known
anything other than the society he lives in. But what happens when he and true
reality crash?
Disclaimer: Never happened, obviously. Title from Ghost in the Shell.
Author's Notes: This chapter is a little longer than the previous ones.
Exciting. :)
1. Norm 2. Psy
Run where you'll be safe
Through the garden gates
To the shelter of magnolias
There's not much time
The blush in the sky begins to fade
- Magnolia, The Hush Sound
So, like, I'm in my room and stuff, except not, cause I'm plugged into a virt
world, one of the ones with plenty of hoverjets and girls and stuff, and it's
pretty good. I'm in a hoverjet and zooming through the sky and I've got a beat
playing real loud on the auds, and there's this girl next me, and she's, like,
the hottest thing since ever. So yeah, I'm kinda putting the moves on her but
then she goes "Time to wake up, Pete" and that's kinda weird, and it's even
weirder when the world gets all staticy and then I'm in my room again, kinda too
dark cause I guess the sun set while I was in the world.
And there's this weird guy outside the port, looking in at me through the glass,
and he looks kinda familiar, but I don't know. He waves his hand and points at
the window and he's mouthing something that I can't figure out. So I go up to
the port and make "what?" faces and shrug a lot, and then he taps the port and
points down and I figure it out and press the thingie to slide the glass down.
"Finally," he says kinda mad but smiling a little when there's no wall
between us. "Norm." And he laughs a little but I don't know what's funny. And
then he grabs my wrist and pulls and goes "Come on," and yeah, this is kinda
creepy, and I ask him what the fuck he thinks he's doing, and he says he's
rescuing me, and then I kind of start to remember.
It's way past time for another pill, I think now, but I don't care, cause wow,
was the world always like this before the pills, brighter and stuff? Well, not
brighter like colors, but my feed's not quite so blaring and it's like there was
smoke in my brain and now it's gone. And I know who this guy is, now, and I find
myself pushing myself up to the port, sticking my legs through, and dropping to
the ground outside, nearly missing the big cloth bag packed full at his feet.
Freedom.
"See, isn't the world good without those neural inhibitors in your system?" the
guy asks, except it's not really a question, I guess. "Believe me, it's even
better without these things." And he taps the metal on his ear, and smiles.
"Let's go."
So we're walking down the street, past all these domestic modules and hoverjets,
and the whole time, he's talking all about how blind "norms" are and trying to
explain something about rats, but I'm just totally confused and he keeps getting
interrupted by my feed telling me about a jet show on Sunday Sunday Sunday. I
just listen to his voice, comforting, like warm soup and soft pillows.
Before I even know it, we've walked... I don't know, but a lot. I'm cold, and my
feet are hurting, and I tell him this, maybe with too much pouting, so he looks
around for somewhere we can sit down and not be out in the open. We decide on an
underpass beneath a jetrail, a rounded tunnel with the top open, perfect for
half-lying half-sitting propped up against the wall.
"In the woods," he says softly as we sit side-by-side, that huge bag propped
under our backs, looking up through the space between the rails, "In the woods,
you can see stars in the sky."
"Stars," I mutter back, and all I can think of are big five-pointed gold shapes
in the sky.
"They're like... oh, I don't know." I shiver, the cold going into my bones,
except, really, for the arm that's touching his. "Cold?" he asks, and he turns
around to unzip the bag and fish out a big blue blanket. "Here," and he puts it
over me. I make him take part of it, too, cause it's plenty big and he shouldn't
have to suffer. I move a little closer, but it's just to make the blanket fit
over us, I'm not trying to cuddle or anything. We talk for I don't know how
long. Hours? Probably. He talks more than me, though, but although he has so
much to say, he doesn't really tell me anything about himself, just the world
and this place called the woods and people who are rats and finally, I ask him
his name. "Patrick."
"Patrick." That's all I seem to be able to do most of the time, repeat things
back. My brain's fuzzy, but not in the pill way, in the sleep way. Before I know
it, I'm waking up to the sun on my face through the rails, and this soft
ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum in my ear. Patrick's heart. He makes a good pillow.
It's all innocent, really. I was cold, and he felt warm, and before I fell
asleep, I guess I rested my head on him. It's as comforting as his voice, lying
against him, and like my stomach is warm and unraveling, and yeah, this is
pretty nice.