network | anonymous

[ficcion]

How do you know you're real?

How do you know that someone else didn't write you, paint you, dream you? How do you know you're not just a figment of someone else's imagination? A fictional thing.

And most importantly, would it matter to you? To be as such? Or to know that other is as such? Would it change the way you think of yourself or someone else? Can you truly be more than whatever someone else thought you up to be?

Are we really ever free?

Comments

[ficcion]

Writer, not dreamer.

He was specially keen on reminding me of my fakeness, actually. Nothing but a stand-in for his daughter.

[nightmarist]

in case nobody's ever said this either: that's massively fucked up of him

[ficcion]

His own stand-in had some choice words.

Those were some weird times. One moment I was me, the next I was a mouthpiece.

And then my book ended.

[nightmarist]

is that when you came here?

un-anon, un: sophie | private tho | also voice, what a mess

[ficcion]

[ Sophie's voice is soft, but strong.

Okay, kinda wobbly at moments, just a bit. ]

No, I ended up on his world, which might as well be another book, maybe. Last thing I remember I was going to pay him a visit.

Hi, I'm Sophie.

private

[nightmarist]

[ Ronan takes it a step further and switches to video, broadcasting from someplace that looks like it could be a medieval prison cell but is actually just his bedroom. ]

Hey, Sophie. I'm Ronan.

[ficcion]

[ Sophie is startled by that, but after a bit of fumbling she switches to video as well.

Have one (1) tiny blonde peeking at the screen. ]

Sorry, we didn't have these back home.

Do you come from a book too, Ronan? I'm sorry, I don't know your tale.

...I like your room.

[nightmarist]

Thanks. I made it.

[ Which brings him to the answer to her question... ]

I'm a dreamer. Kind of like your writer, I guess, but without the writing part and hopefully a little less shitty.

[ficcion]

So you... dream things into being? I can't imagine how that looks.

The people that brought me here, they gave me a power. The power to write things into being. I guess they find that amusing.

[ It's a strange reminder of who she is, but still... not unwanted. ]

[nightmarist]

[ No one can imagine how that looks, which is why it breaks their brains a little to witness it. ]

How do you feel about that? Being the one with the power now.

[ficcion]

It's... weird. I made a balloon for a girl that lost their own. I've tried some things, but I haven't tested the limits of it.

I'm a bit scared of it, to be honest.

[ Long exhale through the nose. ]

I don't want to be alone, but it feels weird to just make another post saying "hey I can write whatever I want into reality", or something. Nobody would want to be around someone like that.

[ A second later. ]

Oh, I mean... I'm sure you don't have that problem? Sorry.

[nightmarist]

Don't be sorry. I'm not gonna fucking lie, it freaks a lotta people out. Back home, they kill people like me.

[ That's just The Facts. ]

But every imPort's got some kinda power. You're not really alone here.

[ficcion]

That's horrible.

[ But she can see why would it happen all the same. People don't really change, do they. ]

I guess. I do have this feeling though, to grab my things and go away somewhere. I don't really need anything, after all, since I can make me whatever. Just take a step to the side until I sort myself out. Some philosophers were hermits, right?

[nightmarist]

Is that what you wanna do or is it just what you think you have to do?

[ficcion]

Isolate myself for the sake of others? Maybe.

Maybe I just need a quiet place to put myself together at my own pace, on my own terms.

[nightmarist]

Yeah. I get that.

[ He gestures to his room like obviously. It doesn't look like a place that had been created with anything other than solitude in mind, even though he's no longer alone. ]

If you need - I don't know - a fucking tutor or something, you can come by here sometime. You're sure as shit not gonna freak me out.

[ficcion]

Oh?

[ That one she didn't see coming. ]

Actually... yeah, that would be nice. To not be alone. I would hate to impose though...

[nightmarist]

If it was an imposition, I wouldn't have invited you.

[ficcion]

I see you're a very direct person.

[ She's smiling while saying that, mind you. ]

Um, where are you anyway?

[nightmarist]

[ He sends along the address to a quaint little farm in Virginia, complete with a convenient pin drop. ]

If you see a bunch of barns and a little chapel, you'll know you're in the right place.

[ficcion]

This is my first time in the United States. I guess it's a bit like a field trip.

Did you make that place? As a dream? It feels like a very specific location.

[nightmarist]

It's where my family's home is supposed to be. It didn't exist in this world, so I had to make a new one. But this version's a little bit more... mine.

[ficcion]

I see... I would have to go all the way to Norway to check my house, but I doubt it will be there.

Are you there alone? It looks like a big place.

[nightmarist]

I was for a while. Now I'm not.

[ficcion]

That's good. Maybe I could stay a little while? Help you be even less alone.

[ And she doesn't want to be alone herself, of course. ]

At any rate, I'll try to visit soon.