facility with constructs—not a common skill. I don’t understand them very well myself, though Eli does. He knows a lot about many things. At least she was just trying to get me out of the way, not do away with me altogether, although stranding me somewhere like this might add up to the same thing.
The only thing I knew for sure about constructs was that Lou is a master at slipping in and out of such places. Left to my own devices, I might never find my way home, but he could, and I could follow.
“Home?” I said. “Can you get us home?”
Lou darted over into a nearby mini park, did a circle around the perimeter, and came back up to me, tail wagging. He looked at me and yawned, his saying, Of course , again. He never lacks for confidence, although I could have reminded him about several previous incidents where that confidence turned out to be misplaced.
He jumped to his feet and started down the street, with me a few steps behind. The physical aspects of the singularity were almost perfect—the buildings, the uneven paving of Valencia Street, the trash swirling in little eddies at the corners. Where it broke down was in the depiction of people. Which made sense—after all, people are more complex than streets and buildings.
As we walked along the sidewalk, passersby moved quickly around us, eyes flicking incuriously over us. It made me wonder; just as they weren’t exactly real to me, perhaps we weren’t entirely real to them.
I stopped and motioned Lou over to the middle of the sidewalk.
“Do your sit pretty,” I told him, that cute begging position that always melts hearts and elicits aws. He looked at me with something close to contempt. What—I thought he was a dog, eager to do stupid tricks on demand?
“No, I’m serious. It’s an experiment.”
He sighed and sat up, holding his front paws in the air. If it’s possible to beg grudgingly, that was what he was doing. I got out of the way and leaned up against the side of a nearby building so that he would seem to be on his own.
Two men passed by without a second glance. Then, two young women, walking side by side, split when they reached him and passed him on either side. Not a flicker of interest. That settled it. On a normal day, they’d have been cooing over him, ready to adopt him off the street.
It wasn’t like they couldn’t see him; they’d walked around Lou to avoid stepping right on him. But he didn’t quite register with them, as if he were something totally outside their experience. But could they even interact? What would happen if I actively confronted one of these individuals?
A young man about my own size and build, six feet or so, approached. I stepped out from where I’d been lounging and stood directly in his path. Without pausing, he veered off to one side, but I stepped over and blocked his path again. He stopped, confused, as if it were something completely outside his realm of experience. He tried to pass on the other side of me, but I blocked him again, and just for good measure grabbed him by the arm.
He stopped, looking confused. Or maybe not confused, exactly, but disturbed, like a bird trying to process an unfamiliar situation. He tried to continue on, but I wouldn’t let go of his arm.
Finally he stopped trying to move and looked at me, really looked for the first time. The expression on his face didn’t change, but he unexpectedly opened his mouth wide, letting out with a harsh, quavering ululation, like a mullah at daybreak calling the faithful to prayer.
I let go of his arm and stepped back. The moment he gave the call, every person on Valencia, for as far as I could see, stopped moving. A second later, in perfect unison, a hundred heads swiveled toward me, and the same harsh noise erupted from a hundred throats. Grabbing this guy might have been a slight mistake.
Lou didn’t wait around to see what I would do next. He flattened his ears and took off down the street at a good clip. Ever the faithful
The only thing I knew for sure about constructs was that Lou is a master at slipping in and out of such places. Left to my own devices, I might never find my way home, but he could, and I could follow.
“Home?” I said. “Can you get us home?”
Lou darted over into a nearby mini park, did a circle around the perimeter, and came back up to me, tail wagging. He looked at me and yawned, his saying, Of course , again. He never lacks for confidence, although I could have reminded him about several previous incidents where that confidence turned out to be misplaced.
He jumped to his feet and started down the street, with me a few steps behind. The physical aspects of the singularity were almost perfect—the buildings, the uneven paving of Valencia Street, the trash swirling in little eddies at the corners. Where it broke down was in the depiction of people. Which made sense—after all, people are more complex than streets and buildings.
As we walked along the sidewalk, passersby moved quickly around us, eyes flicking incuriously over us. It made me wonder; just as they weren’t exactly real to me, perhaps we weren’t entirely real to them.
I stopped and motioned Lou over to the middle of the sidewalk.
“Do your sit pretty,” I told him, that cute begging position that always melts hearts and elicits aws. He looked at me with something close to contempt. What—I thought he was a dog, eager to do stupid tricks on demand?
“No, I’m serious. It’s an experiment.”
He sighed and sat up, holding his front paws in the air. If it’s possible to beg grudgingly, that was what he was doing. I got out of the way and leaned up against the side of a nearby building so that he would seem to be on his own.
Two men passed by without a second glance. Then, two young women, walking side by side, split when they reached him and passed him on either side. Not a flicker of interest. That settled it. On a normal day, they’d have been cooing over him, ready to adopt him off the street.
It wasn’t like they couldn’t see him; they’d walked around Lou to avoid stepping right on him. But he didn’t quite register with them, as if he were something totally outside their experience. But could they even interact? What would happen if I actively confronted one of these individuals?
A young man about my own size and build, six feet or so, approached. I stepped out from where I’d been lounging and stood directly in his path. Without pausing, he veered off to one side, but I stepped over and blocked his path again. He stopped, confused, as if it were something completely outside his realm of experience. He tried to pass on the other side of me, but I blocked him again, and just for good measure grabbed him by the arm.
He stopped, looking confused. Or maybe not confused, exactly, but disturbed, like a bird trying to process an unfamiliar situation. He tried to continue on, but I wouldn’t let go of his arm.
Finally he stopped trying to move and looked at me, really looked for the first time. The expression on his face didn’t change, but he unexpectedly opened his mouth wide, letting out with a harsh, quavering ululation, like a mullah at daybreak calling the faithful to prayer.
I let go of his arm and stepped back. The moment he gave the call, every person on Valencia, for as far as I could see, stopped moving. A second later, in perfect unison, a hundred heads swiveled toward me, and the same harsh noise erupted from a hundred throats. Grabbing this guy might have been a slight mistake.
Lou didn’t wait around to see what I would do next. He flattened his ears and took off down the street at a good clip. Ever the faithful
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