Abandon Power, All Ye Who Enter Here!
(This Means YOU!)
"Heh, this looks intriguing," said Dibbler. "Bet this is the original version where everyone thinks they're actors on break, the one ol' Deja Voodoo tried to rationalize as the Backstage Hotel. Of course, the sign doesn't really mean me, I'm an Author, I can do anything..."
Taking the precaution of making himself invisible first, Dibbler went through the door and down a long corridor, emerging into a room...
...where a bunch of familiar characters were standing around chatting, behaving as if they were actors on break. He decided to listen in, particularly once he observed part of the conversation seemed to be about the Backstage he knew...
It was Demonica, a tall, red-skinned, horned woman who had just shown up with a villainous-looking imp. "Took a wrong turn on the way here," she was saying. "There are some other areas that are kinda-sorta backstage,but not really... I got involved in something called a heavy-hitters fight,and I still had my powers,which I wouldn't if I was really backstage. Jim, there's a guy in those areas who said he's your uncle,named Sid Russell... do you know him?"
The version of Jim she was addressing went and rummaged through a pile of ID cards in his locker. "Anderson, Harper, Harrigan, McNutt..."
"Oh, never mind," said Demonica, impatiently. "The real creepy thing about those `backstage' areas is that Authors hang out there. Or at least their avatars."
Dibbler allowed himself a private chuckle, here...
"God,that's embarrassing," said a Sharon. "I remember reading that when Colonel Ruppert owned the Yankees he dropped by the locker room once, but the manager asked him please not to do that, the place should be for the manager and players. I think backstage should be, well, for us."
"Their power does stretch back here, you know," another girl reminded her gently.
"But still! Thinking you're off-duty and running into one of the very people whose fantasies you are shaped by all the time..."
Another listener looked distinctly nervous at this. Wondering why, Dibbler decided to spy on her thoughts. The girl, whose name was Candace, was thinking I hope she doesn't start in on their fantasies being sick or something. That can easily provoke one into a you-think-that's-perverted, I'll-show-you-perverted mood... She paused. Uh oh,I'll bet they can read my mind. She bit her lip.
Dibbler smiled nastily, feeling provoked. Hmm, what evil things shall I do to this creature, he mused, before being distracted by the conversation again.
"We can all hope," another said (Prismetta, he perceived, in a quick thought-scan), "that by releasing their imaginations here they can be more respectful to others in their everyday lives."
Oh come on, where's the fun in that? Dibbler thought, momentarily losing track of the conversation.
Now a Marjorie was saying "Demonica, I think I took the same wrong turn you did, do you know a guy named JigSaw?"
Demonica looked thoughtful as Candace cut in and took the discussion off on a tangent Dibbler wasn't interested in. Circulating through the crowd, he sampled thoughts from this person or that, trying to find an idea for something nasty to do to them. Then a Robin Foster brought the topic back to the earlier one, clearing her throat so that others would look at her. Generally conceived of as a high school senior who loved manipulating boys, she radiated confidence even seminude.
"Girls," she said, addressing the mainly female gathering. "I think you're a little uptight worrying about the authors. I mean, think about it, here's an Author. Someone who from our perspective can declare the end of the world just as easily as we can talk about it, turn us into anything... and here he is focussing his attention, his sexual fantasies, on you. Doesn't it give you a feeling of power, that someone of such godlike power to whom you're just a collectively imagined set of words stored on computer disks is eating out of your hand? He may not have a girl half as pretty as any of us willing to give him the time of day... but he may well masturbate himself to sleep thinking of you every night!" She laughed, winking seductively out of the monitor at the person reading this. "I mean, if writing about you is what he wants to do, it's almost like he wants you to bear his children..."
Ah, Dabbler thought, now I have it! Robin's boasting coupled with Candace's earlier worries inspired him with a truly nasty notion. To think was to act. Poor Robin...
... saw herself grow visibly pregnant, and realized in shock that an Author who had no doubt been spying on their conversation must be the father. A portal appeared and sucked her in, and suddenly she was no longer in the Backstage she knew, but in the middle of...
Go back - Go to the parent episode.
Wed Apr 25 08:23:40 2001
Linking Enabled