[ The girl asks without asking, says without saying, and the wind in the trees and the animals of the swamp and the stars in the sky which aren't stars at all but gnats and fireflies and things alive and dead — all of it echoes in drawn out chorus together and perhaps that echo, a question regiven, is the boy's answer. Nothing is one, save the One who Walked In, not even the Twelve and their Noah blood, not even the legion born of that blood, not even Zero himself. So this world, in its unity, with its single voice made of a chorus of voices, how could it possibly be real?
But what of the girl in it, the girl of it, who made it. The girl who smiles without moving her mouth in a way that maybe, just maybe, is kind?
Every time he steps backwards she moves forward in kind, the motion small and nearing imperceptible and yet she is closer and closer still. ]
[ Todd does trip finally, maybe it was inevitable, but the thing he trips on is a log and so instead of ending up shoulder-deep in swamp muck, he just ends up sitting down on an old, wet hunk of tree. He can feel the damp of it seeping into his pant leg, its rotting, mossy bark coming apart under his fingers. (If it feels this real, it has to be real, don't it?) (But how can it be?) ]
What're you talking about? [ How're you talking? You ain't moving your lips, but girls ain't got Noise. ] What sadness? [ Todd asks, even though he knows (shut up), and he has to scramble to hide it deep below other Noise, stuff that don't matter like how many steps he thinks he took today and what he's gonna do for food when he wakes up and, and...
But it's hard because there ain't a lot Todd can think about right now that don't make him sad somehow and thoughts of Viola and Ben and Cillian seem to well up the more he tries to shove them down. ]
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[ The girl asks without asking, says without saying, and the wind in the trees and the animals of the swamp and the stars in the sky which aren't stars at all but gnats and fireflies and things alive and dead — all of it echoes in drawn out chorus together and perhaps that echo, a question regiven, is the boy's answer. Nothing is one, save the One who Walked In, not even the Twelve and their Noah blood, not even the legion born of that blood, not even Zero himself. So this world, in its unity, with its single voice made of a chorus of voices, how could it possibly be real?
But what of the girl in it, the girl of it, who made it. The girl who smiles without moving her mouth in a way that maybe, just maybe, is kind?
Every time he steps backwards she moves forward in kind, the motion small and nearing imperceptible and yet she is closer and closer still. ]
WHAT IS YOUR SADNESS? HOW IS IT REAL?
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What're you talking about? [ How're you talking? You ain't moving your lips, but girls ain't got Noise. ] What sadness? [ Todd asks, even though he knows (shut up), and he has to scramble to hide it deep below other Noise, stuff that don't matter like how many steps he thinks he took today and what he's gonna do for food when he wakes up and, and...
But it's hard because there ain't a lot Todd can think about right now that don't make him sad somehow and thoughts of Viola and Ben and Cillian seem to well up the more he tries to shove them down. ]