Changes

[fredless]

[Someone's standing on her bed again, navigating a mattress and piled blankets to chose a book from the shelf that lines the length of her ceiling.

...then suddenly the book is chosen for her. And it isn't string theory.

Fred scrambles back down to sit on the edge of the bed, fingers tracing over the pages of a journal. Page after page after page. Every last one of them blank. Something presses against her, from the inside out. She moves to the window, briefly glancing outside of it. Everything seems just the same, but she can't seem to fully push back memories of Libet and the auditorium at the heart of it]

Is everybody alright?

[The words seems impossibly dark and large against the blank expanse of the page]

Is everybody...there?

Comments

private

[interpersonally]

The journal.

[ Okay. He's assessed. Now... ]

You got a blank one, too?

Re: private

[fredless]

[Quietly. Thoughtfully]

It sounds like everyone did.

private forever

[interpersonally]

And it worries you.

[ He's just curious. ]

[fredless]

Of course it does.

[interpersonally]

Why?

[fredless]

What's to say it's just a blank page, or a new journal? What if we don't remember because it's already made us forget?

[Some days, it feels like she's been here too long. Despite what waits on the other side of it all]

[interpersonally]

There isn't anything to say that. We wouldn't know. But, we can't worry about something like that. It's no way to live.

Fred can cross arms too!

[fredless]

Maybe not. But there's something bigger than us in this place and we'd be foolish to ignore it.

Ha!

[interpersonally]

I don't think we should ignore it.

:D

[fredless]

So how do you think we should handle it?

[interpersonally]

We shouldn't panic and fear the worst.

[fredless]

But we can't be blind to the possibilities either.