Work Text:
A bus stop. Cold winter air.
Modern Liver sits alone. Waiting. Shivering.
Someone else approaches. Someone from somewhere else, someone who has nowhere to be because where he needs to be is nowhere.
“You came.” Liver notes, looking towards the figure. He’s dressed for the weather, bundled up in a fashionable way.
“I had news.” Halifax replies, pulling a box of cigarettes from his jacket.
“Want one?” Halifax asks, knowing the answer already.
“No. Yours always taste bad.” Liver replies.
“More for me.”
Jon Halifax lights a cigarette. A picture of a warmer place.
A bar. Busy, crowded, decorated for a season that this Baltimore will never leave.
“What’s the news?” Liver asks over the din of the bar, patrons belting out songs beside them.
“Change is coming.” Halifax replies, leaning against a wall. On the wall is a picture of the Olde One, and of Baltimore as it was Before. As people want it to be. As it refuses to be.
“Obviously. Elections. Weather. Change is everywhere.” Liver replies, knowing there’s more to be said. Visiting exiles is never a small deal. He has more news to share.
“You’ll be leaving casualty soon enough. Won’t be observable. Dead cat in a box.” Halifax says, looking over his remaining cigarettes.
“But there’s more. The new God. We’re putting even odds on it sticking around or just leaving. Things can exist above these universes, but you know that too.”
“So what new information do you have?” Liver asks, itching at the zipper on their head, the protrusions through the skin they wear. Warming up from the cold.
“Originally, it was assumed that these universes always existed. That we were just looking in. But that’s not really true.” Halifax says, finally deciding on the next cigarette. “They’re getting made, or through observation are made real. Which means they’re making more of her. And more of the others.”
“She’s not doing much, here.” Liver replies. “She was around enough to give my body some help when I was forced into it. An act of repayment, I guess. Outside of that, I don’t think this one’s doing much beyond waiting for the thaw.”
A convenience store. Closed for the holidays. Closed for eternity.
“You’re wrong there.” Halifax says. “They’re all on the same spectrum. If one lives, and another doesn’t, two live in one.”
“So is she going to end the freeze? Is that the news?” Liver asks, frustrated. They examine the freezers. They’re empty. They always run out at the start of the day, medicine for everyone who’s just looking to get through the loop.
“If anything, she’ll keep it going. Infinite time to think. To experiment. But no, that’s not all of it.” Halifax says, helping himself to what remains of the cigarettes, behind the counter. His jacket has few pockets, but they all fit just fine.
“Every time, there’s one more of her. One more of her that can join in with the rest. It’s starting to work backwards now.” he adds. “If enough of her persists, she might get to Root.”
“The Oldest One’s a myth.” Liver replies, “It’s a thing the Board talks about to keep us all afraid. Keep us on edge.”
“Do you trust me?” Halifax asks, one final cigarette. A buzzing vending machine outside of a motel. Music blasting from one of the rooms. Other sounds from another. Company on a cold night.
“I don’t have a choice. You’re the only one who visits me.” Liver says.
“Take these.” Halifax says, handing Modern Liver a drawstring bag and stapled-together phonebook pages.
Liver accepts them. They open the drawstring.
There’s a skull in there. Crystals grow from it. They fill an eye socket.
“What’s this for?” Liver asks. They close the bag.
“Kindling.” Halifax replies. “I can’t come back, once you leave observation.”
“Why the skull?” Liver asks, urgently.
“Show it to the first name on the list. Get it into his hands. He’ll know what it is.” Halifax says. He turns to go. Turns back.
“Wait until Flowchart’s gone, though.”
“So it’s going to be her?”
Silence.
A bus stop. Cold winter air.
Modern Liver sits alone.