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Out there beyond the slates creaking above his head, the wind rasped through the walls and pummeled at the cracked glass in the windows. It sounded intense, which prompted the child to shut his eyes and dip back into the dark emptiness behind his memories.
The rest was so good, so needed. It stole him from the gnawing stew in his tummy, and soothed the throbbing in his limbs from all the scouting. So important. This was the impossible time for going out and exploring the city for rations; the weather couldn't be argued with and the cold burrowed into everything. Den season had good stints, but a lot of kids didn’t have the strength to survive it. A lot of nesting happened, but the right sort of nesting was hard to do.
During den season, an alone kid might get lucky, and could manage to shelter from the unforgiving weather. It wasn't as simple as hide and rest, since the wind made everything terrible and cold, made kids sleepy and stop. No more go, no more seek, no more for flee. Some kids got stranded and became too weak from resting, and had no more in them for searching out foods. And foods made the warmth. He had gotten through den season with pack and shared the warmth. Having together helped him to learn how to keep going.
Mono made sure the next time he awoke, he pulled himself from the wispy hallucinations and dreams that promised comfort and safety. Lies. All lies. Danger.
Above the floor lay a stifling calm, while slithers of light glittered among the drifting swirls of lint. The glass chattered, but not with the same intensity to when he listened a while back. He blinked at the dust clinging to the lumps of feathers and cloth he burrowed into. The nest was very good, in a good place and filled with wonderful bits of fabric and stuffing. It had been his favorite so far, but he couldn’t stay in one place for too long. Eventually, he wouldn’t be able to get up, let alone move. All good things must come to an end.
The crusty layers of clothing crackled as Mono rolled out of the fluffy clumps. He pushed away the edges and worked on stretching and tugging the stiffness from his joints - a shake of his coat was punctuated with a yawn. Bits of cotton and dust clung to his coat; burrowing into crumbling materials was his favorite, but the usual shirts and socks didn’t protect from the prying chill.
He brushed the more stubborn puffs from his spiked hair and dug around for the hat he lost in the mess. With a sneeze and a last stretch, he untangled from the matted pile and crawled across the uneven planks. Shimmers of light flashed across his hat as he took the familiar route among broken boards, many crossed over or pinned, in some areas the wood caved in and barred his already limited crawlspace. Beneath the floor dusty and shadows thrived, it took a few turns and some backtracking to actually find the open passage. It… had been a while since he left the nest. Probably a very long while.
Which was why den season was dangerous. Most of the time was fasting. It wasn’t like kids didn’t eat on purpose, especially when food stuff was hard enough to find (and steal). But venturing out was a bigger risk, and it was safer to bear with the hunger than running all over the place. Especially when the weather turned more unpredictable, and sucked all the precious warmth from his body.
The slate floor came to a dead end, where the wall barred him from going further. However, a patch of the floor caved in, offering sloping bars of timber for Mono to climb up. The difference compared to the temperature beneath the floor, was very apparent. He shivered at the biting chill and rubbed at his sleeves, as he met the open air of the room.
As it was before, the room was dark and empty with only a single bulb in the corner, atop a drawer. He still held steady a moment and listened, in case some unexpected intruder had invited itself into another room. Only once assured that the groaning was of the typical walls and weight of the world, did Mono risk tugging himself from the narrow opening.
Down the hall and in another room, a window gaped at the scenery overlooking rooftops. This was the easiest way out of this building, though he wasn’t certain where he would be going from here. He stalled on the sill before dropping to the fire escape, and studied the blocky patches of crumbling roofs, among the woven roads. Many of the building sides and roofs glittered with ice, and as he pondered – curled up on his feet to keep them somewhat dry and warm – he decided not to get too carried away. If possible, he wanted to stick to this general area.
Ten roofs forward, and ten roofs across. He might have decided this a while back, but he couldn’t remember for certain. He would try and remember this time.
With a rattle of the creaky fire escape, he plopped down and began searching for his next perch. There was no ladder, but a gutter extended a distance from the last remaining rung. He launched from the step and caught the icy metal pipe easily enough. As his fingers stuck to the metal and he lowered down, Mono flashed his gaze up to another skyrise, one over from the building he had been exploring. This was a good time to go over there, and he could check in.
Climbing came natural to all children. Only the kids that had a knack for the skill and got good with scaling walls with chinks, ladders or planks of wood, and especially dangling tethers – the kids that could get far off the floor, went on to run another day. He always liked to be someplace high whenever he could manage, since creatures typically focused on the ground for scurrying shapes.
Though it was a ways to travel, it really made him excited about slipping back into the streets and questing for that new shelter. He would stay there a while, which was why he was picky about the building and its seclusion, and if a Viewer was around. Food was essential, but he couldn’t always reach it.
Working his way through the road was a struggle, the water he sloshed through clawed at his toes with its chill. This was not a far distance to travel, but it felt endless. The only way to get into the building he was making a beeline for, was by climbing onto the tallest pile of broken and quiet televisions. This let him reach a scrap of long carpet, dangling from a crack in the high wall. The fiber of the carpet creaked and tore a bit each time he clawed his way up, and one day it would tear and he could no longer come this way. By then, he probably would have moved on. When that time came, he suppose he wouldn’t remember anything anymore. He barely thought about Her as it was, but she only emerged when the hunger was uncontestable.
Since he never dared enter this building, figuring out his way around took a while. The crack in the wall put him into a room with some furniture and the thickest gloom. A frail shimmer to one side hinted to a corridor beyond a shy doorway, and as he began roaming through rooms and other connected corridors, sometimes a vent or crack in the floor, the invisible trail in his thoughts began to beam. Little landmarks like the way a door hung off its hinge, or a picture decaying into a rumple patch of carpet, made the image of his tour all the clearer. He hurried with a spring in his step, leaping over gaps in the floor with renewed vigor. He forgot about the empty hole in his tummy, his fixation now with reaching that important destination. It was his favorite place to visit.
The last length of his trek was right out a broken window and high above the city streets. It was the only way he knew to get up there – no elevators or stairways went that high, or, he never found them. This sheltered room was where them waited. Them.
The gusty breeze snapped at his coat and the brittle sleet rapped across his hat. He secured the floppy bowl more onto his head before easing forward, then lowering his feet off the windowsill. It took some skill to steady himself before trusting the short drop, the icy metal was greasy under his feet and curved. No disaster came about when he plopped onto the vent, and he began moving, first pushing off the cement wall of the building’s side to spur his momentum.
Below, the mist of a brewing storm swirled across the rooftops of the smaller buildings, sometimes the flash of movement of some Viewer winked among the fog, but those creatures wandered far from reach. Too deeply focused on his stepping, Mono didn’t pay the ambling figures much attention. As well, he was too eager with reaching them, and seeing if they had stayed. It was his favorite stop. Eventually, he wouldn’t be able to make this trek and it would be some while before he could do the find again. Them was always moving, but not so much with den season. Same as Mono.
The mounted vent creaked as he passed over the segments, where the bulky base fixed each length to the wall. Following the catwalk would lead to a broken section of wall, where he could get inside the building. Navigating the interior was impossible, he had tried a few times. There was no point to it.
But outside and across the surface of the skyrise surface, the jutting erosion of cement left grip holds that Mono could scale like an insect. With a hop, he was hefting himself up and as effortless as walking, strafed across and upward. With den season underway, he snatched at clumps of bitter ice and lost scraps of his fingertips. Such irritation was expected, or his fingers might become fastened tight, and he could risk losing more than just a finger. It would be worth it though.
Higher and to his left, flakes of ice struck the ledge embedded with the building wall. Some of the corroded outcropping had worn away, leaving enough space where he could pull himself up through a narrow wedge and reach the remnants of the ridge jutting from the windows base. The flat surface spanned wide enough he could run along without real fear, and he did rush past the sequence of windows before reaching a solid glass pane. He could even peer through the surface and mostly see.
He knelt a bit out of the harsh storm and rubbed the frost accumulating on the glass. It didn’t take much searching, he knew where them was. This was the best room in the dwelling, and the only one with the window. The only place where he could look in and search. He pressed his nose to the glass and became miffed by the fog his breath caused.
It was just like the book Mono seared into his memory. His favorite was seeing them, since sometimes he came to check and no creature was in the room. So far, they had not leave. That would change eventually. Maybe soon. But not here while Mono was peering in. It was like the pages filled with child and the adult. He did rip out some other pages, but that made it better. The book was confused, but Mono knew how this would work. This was right.
The room was a room, like the dozens that Mono carried through with his search to reach this important place. The space inside held some furniture – a couch and a bookcase – no clothing, aside from blankets piled on the couch. The profile of the Thin Man studied a book, and just over the top of the chair arm, Mono saw the other Mono.
It looked like the other Mono had a book too, but he was using the flat surface to keep a page neat while he scratched down some colors. The real Mono couldn’t figure what the speek was, and it made him a little nervous. He didn’t know why. The blankets sat rumpled under the other Mono, and the kid plucked or pushed them around when they tangled him up whenever he shifted.
With it settled that them was here, Mono crouched down on his feet and tucked his coattail over his legs. He knew he was Mono, and that other kid was Mono. Maybe. He thought so. The boy wore a coat, very much like his most amazing coat. He didn’t look at his shirt or care much for his pants, aside from the protection they offered – the other Mono had the same colored clothing, in the same shape. He looked like an other Mono. A him. He wasn’t sure about the face, but the Thin Man was very confused when he looked at them both. Together.
It perplexed Mono how the Thin Man didn’t know him, but also saw the kid as Mono. The man and his hat called the kid Mono, anyway. Which wasn’t fair! He was sure that Mono was Mono, and not the other kid. The other Mono didn’t wear hats or cover his face. But him and the Thin Man had the same eyes. Didn’t Mono have those eyes too? He wasn’t sure anymore.
Mono leaned back and tried to see his reflection in the sleek pane, but couldn’t glimpse so much as an outline. He surrendered on the impulse in favor of watching.
No hats. Not even a mask. The other Mono did do the speek better, though. He watched the other Mono tilt back from his scratchy picture speek, and he decided the kid was doing noises for the Thin Man. Because the Thin Man lowered his book and directed his gaze to the child on the couch. He can’t hear through the window, except for a low buzzing pricking at the glass. The Thin Man moved his lips. Some speek.
The other Mono raised the picture. The Thin Man smiled. Mono can’t see anything of the picture now, and he really didn’t care. He really wanted to make the other Mono go away, but… he was afraid. If the other Mono disappeared, then would he, too? He doesn’t understand where the other Mono came from.
Mono was the one that found his other. He thought this was an other kid and he could be with them, but... they wound up fighting over food. The Thin Man came into the room to separate them, but turned all flustered when he saw them both. The best thing about Mono was that he didn’t go nutty when the Thin Man held him. The other (or what he thought was an other kid at the time) went ballistic - scratching, biting, kicking. He was smug about the kid being a panicked, terrified mess of child. Up until the Thin Man did the speek.
Mono did speek too. But the other Mono… had more speek. And Mono could see something in the Thin Man’s expression, something like… he found a treasure. Then and there, Mono still didn’t get it. He thought this was an other kid that the Thin Man did speek with. He just thought the Thin Man could do any speek he wanted, with any kid he visited.
For a while, the Thin Man kept him and the other Mono in the storeroom closet. The other Mono didn’t flee, because he and him did the speek while the Thin Man was off being busy. They had a fight about who was Mono. It became confusing and made Mono’s head hurt. But he did like the other kid.
At first.
Like all the kids, the other Mono was growly and angry – even at Mono! Doing the speek helped. Making sounds and doing pictures on the floor, made this other kid less bristly. And he was happy the Thin Man let him have an other child. It still didn’t come through that this was an other Mono, not until the Thin Man came back to check on them (Mono had to explain stuff about the Thin Man). Then the Thin Man and Mono and other Mono got it straightened out. Sort of. None of it told him where this other Mono came from. Even the Thin Man was uneasy, since the other Mono didn’t have a lot about from where he come, either. Nothing but a boat that was a real boat, and not a door. Neat.
The Thin Man really liked the other Mono, even if that Mono didn’t like the Thin Man (and wanted the real Mono to pack with him). There was no reason for the other Mono to be an idiot, but he didn’t say that. He put up with the other Mono, fought with him sometimes, too. The other Mono only followed the Thin Man for Mono, but they had more fighting, and whenever the Thin Man separated them, Mono could be smug while the other Mono hissed and thrashed.
Whenever they found a room that was safe for shelter, the Thin Man hovered wherever he and the other Mono made nests. That, also, annoyed the Thin Man, which made Mono more smug. Him and the kid fought a lot, but they agreed warm was important. More important than who was who.
Then the Thin Man prowled around when him and his Mono explored rooms and search. The man in the hat didn’t do much but make speek for the other Mono. A lot of it the other Mono didn’t get, but it wasn’t the big speek the Thin Man liked. It made the other Mono less skittish, and he returned the speek. The other Mono and the Thin Man shared speek more and more. That was something Mono… didn’t like.
Through the window, Mono watched as the Thin Man lifted an arm, and the other Mono hopped over the blankets and sprang onto his lap. The other Mono raised the picture up, and the Thin Man took it by the edge. It was turned enough Mono could take in some colors and ambiguous shapes, but he couldn’t grasp the meaning of the figures. The Thin Man smiled and set the picture aside, where Mono could never see it. The other Mono nestled against the suit of the man in the hat, as a long arm draped over the other child - hiding him from Mono's view as well. The Thin Man’s lips moved, and he raised the book and pointed to a spot between the pages. The book didn’t have pictures, but the Thin Man still moved his lips and the dull hum thudded against the glass, like the specks of ice swirling through the clouds.
Something happened when the other Mono stopped hissing and shying from the man in the hat. For a while it was okay, because Mono had him and they nested, and they would do speek. A lot of the sounds Mono had forgotten, but he and the other Mono also did picture speek between their rasping. He wanted stories about the other Mono’s boat and if he saw Her the other kids, or what dangers he tricked. In their shared pictures, Mono didn't find hint of the color or of together. Figuring this other Mono puzzled the real Mono, and it made him question where the kid came from. And why same? Prying anything from the other Mono was a struggle, and it was made harder with how the other Mono didn’t like the Thin Man. But Mono was sure this time, he could take care of this important kid. He would do better.
When they had the chance for stop, the other Mono would help him collect up the speek he forgot – it brought back some bad thoughts, but it was okay. This new Mono was so much same. They were all same. Him, the Thin Man, and the other Mono. All of them. It was great.
At the same time, the Thin Man stayed close to the other Mono, always watching. The man in the hat did speek when Mono went off to sulk or explore around. It started to happen, that the other Mono stopped following Mono so much. Then when Mono was focused on eating, he realized both the static rustle of the Thin Man and his other Mono was not there.
In a panic, Mono searched the building, and then the roads, and he scoured everywhere he could reach. His mind swirled with confusion and terror. What happened? Gone! Stole? Where go? Help them!
To his relief, he did find his Thin Man and the other Mono. The other Mono was ecstatic, they wrestled, they shared speek, and food. Have and keep. YouYouYou. The Thin Man was happy too, in his own way. Mono was so frightened he would be lost and never see his favorite pack anymore. This was his pack. Even if the Thin Man didn’t see it, that was what they shared. A pack.
Mono got lost a few more times, before he realized this might be a new game the Thin Man wanted to play. Each time took a toll on Mono, it was harder and harder whenever he had to stop everything and do the seek. The other Mono was always elated when he reappeared, but the Thin Man… had this hardening, dark expression that was very frightening. Mono had not been afraid of the Thin Man in so long. But with the other Mono, he began to recognize the contrast in his expressions. The Thin Man showed him a face that changed his world.
This might be a game Mono shouldn’t win.
Sometimes the Thin Man found a place and he kept the other Mono there. He didn’t go to visit the other different children so much, because den season was hard and staying in shelter was important. Except Mono. He didn’t like to stay put for too long. Not safe.
When he managed to find them, Mono kept away. If the Thin Man knew Mono was still visiting, he didn’t show it. He might not care anymore, as long as he didn’t have to bother with him. The man and his hat had the other Mono. A different Mono. The best Mono.
He sat on the rough pavement and tucked his knees up behind his knees, where he could warm his toes. It was fun to sit and watch them. A warm, fuzzy rustling filled his chest, regardless how the frost sprouted across the back of his coat. He wanted so much to be in there and sitting with his Mono and his Thin Man. He could only try and remember being close with his pack, and wonder why he couldn’t feel what the other Mono felt, if they were both a Mono. Watching wasn’t quite the same as being, but it was something close to what he once had. The Togetherness. It looked amazing. Wasn’t this love?
The television told him that love was the biggest power. It was greater than moving buildings, or fighting monsters, making tricks, or dispelling dangers. The only drawback was that love had to ache, or it couldn’t be held. It was something else, something great and terrible altogether. It sounded awful, but seeing the Thin Man smile in that important way, and how he brushed his fingers over the other Mono’s head… it made Mono remember wonderful things. Good sensations, like the static rustling and the warmth of being held tightly. Of staring at the most tol creature and listening, and having someone that was his world.
For a moment.
Maybe….
Maybe he didn’t really exist. If the Thin Man did keep Mono, then who was he? Or, what was he? He couldn’t be a glitching child, he was… almost certain. They didn’t do anything or go anywhere. The glitch children didn’t have friends, they couldn’t speek, and none stole food. Was he really Mono? It didn’t make a difference what the Thin Man decided, because Mono… was Mono. And he was important. The other Mono would agree with him. He had always been Mono. Nothing changed. Everything else did. Not Mono. He was too important.
The ice crackled as Mono shifted back from the windowpane. He tugged at the lapels of his coat, detaching the last crystalline sheets molded over his shoulders and ribs. For a little longer, he rubbed the chill from his knuckles and worked the knots out of his knees. Once his coat was fluffed and his limbs loosened, he gave a wave to the window and his pack safely nestled inside. He made a silent promise he would find them again, since that meant a lot to Mono.
The unforgiving gale relented by a margin while he was huddled down resting, and the ice was crusty on the ledge he padded along. It was tricky snapping his feet off the frigid surface, but he had some tacky traction. In some ways, den season was good. Less monsters roamed – Snatchers, anyway. The Viewers always wandered about at all stages of weather, harsh or not. But den season did slow the creatures lumbering out in the streets, and a thick bank of frost could conceal a kid and make for a getaway.
Around the side of the building and a ways along the ledge, he reached the ruptured section of wall where he could climb down into a demolished room. The ripping wind slipped away from his coat as he climbed down a sideways section of floor, a scatter of hard pellets pinged against the wood floor, only making the cavern room seem more expansive. He dropped to a mattress, partially speared by spike of wood.
It was clear he didn’t exist to the Thin Man anymore. But he was still Mono and he would always be Mono. MonoMono. The thing that confused him most, was that the Thin Man stopped doing speek with him. The man and his hat wasn’t angry at him, but he was unsettled when the other Mono wanted to be with him. So he decided the Thin Man didn’t see him anymore.
None of that made sense. Neither did an other Mono. And it was too much to get involved with.
Mono took the route he always did through the building, slinking through the rooms and sticking to the interior walls when he could. It was warmer than being out in the open, and he didn’t risk stumbling over the Thin Man. Whether existing or not, he didn’t want to risk spoiling anything.
A mixture of sleet and ice was falling, by the time he navigated from a crack in the buildings base and returned to the street. His feet sank into a foot of grainy ice with an underlayer of slurry. The hat barred much of the wind sheer and his coat blotted a fraction of the piercing chill, but he still shook. With the patches of frost building on the typically gray cement walls and piling onto garbage mounds, it became impossible to discern his direction. But he could navigate impossible terrains easily, this would be how he returned later to check on them. First, he had to find a place to den down and wait out the harshness of the weather.
Mono tucked his head down and swept through the pummeling beads of ice and heavy flurries. Except for the gale cutting among the skyscraper thicket, it was silent. The occasional television mumbled beneath drifts of ice, sometimes the glaring strobes pulsed colors through a spectrum of refractions beneath the frost. He cut through the hailstorm effortlessly, like a discarded newspaper whipping towards its destiny.
Navigating the streets the way they were without a destination, did give Mono trouble. It was a danger to wander buried in the ice, but he was searching for a doorway or gap left uncovered where he could hunker down and take shelter. Such a point emerged at king last, as the broken front in a window to some storefront. He climbed onto a frozen body buried under slush and picked his way through a gap in the cracked glass.
It didn’t seem like a shop that had food stuffs. Many of the shelves had been toppled, the floor catered to a scatter of random boxes with nameless objects torn free – a lot of junk, and nothing edible. He did explore through the aisles and climbed through broke gaps in the shelving slates, always examining this or that. Nothing smelled like food.
Further in the back of the store, he found a few racks standing proud. The shelves held a couple of televisions but all sat splint and the glass scattered across the floor.
All but one.
When Mono turned fully to the display, the screen popped to life and static blotches painted the walls, and the rubbish stacked behind Mono. He slapped his hands over his ears and took a step back. A dull pulsing dripped from the screen, beneath the layers of scratching racket. Mono took a step closer, only wincing when another grating wave barked forth. Then another step and pause, as static particles flaked off his shoulders and melted the frost embedded with his coat fibers.
He was right beside the screen when he sat down, crossing his legs. He kept his hands plastered to his ears, while the murmuring rasp faded to something more tolerable. Only then did he lower his hands. He brushed his nose, wiping the blood.
The static hissed, while the distorted image behind the screen lurched.
“Where come?” Mono whispered. He leaned a little closer and tilted his hat forward, to keep the glare from burning through his eyes. Shutting his eyes never helped.
“Am Mono,” he affirmed. “S’other? Where come?” The televisions might know. They might also like secrets more.
Images glimmered within the screen in a blurred strobe, glancing over abstract objects and a pair of children, and other markers Mono thought he recognized.
“Mm-hmm. Happy,” he uttered, as if confessing a grand secret. “S’too. For t’gether. Hmm?”
The television kept its meetings with him short, but they gave a lot. He didn’t know who the television was, but he knew better than to trust them.
They way the static growled and bickered, it seemed like a lot of things. A messy pool of fussing, but it was one of the few creatures that did the speek.
“Am scout.” He scrubbed at the blood caked under his nose. It got itchy when it dried. “No. For safe. Y’not get. Shh.”
The television pulsed, the snaps of images bled through quickly, barely giving him a chance to pick out any specifics aside from one.
“Fick’aal? Was mean?” Mono tucked his legs up to his chest and rubbed his toes. He tried to pay better attention to the monochrome feed, though the pictures meant nothing. Not like the static murmuring at his ears. “Mm. No. His happy. T’en I keep.” He didn’t mention the other Mono, even if the television knew. It saw everything, but it was a dummy too.
“No.” He wasn’t cold. “For rest.” The Thin Man was resting. The television was stupid and wanted him to mention the other Mono. It liked to tell him how terrible the Thin Man was, and how Mono was best and should find… friends.
It always sounded too nice, purring through his thoughts. He dwelled on the other Mono, and if the television made him. That didn’t make sense, not with how the Thin Man kept the other Mono. The Thin Man knew everything. And even how would the television make an other child? This wasn’t like traveling through a television, or breaking buildings.
A lot of stuff perplexed Mono. He still knew better than to trust the television voices.
Yet he liked to sit with the telly vision and listen to the soft burble of static. Across the checkered tile dashed with bits of glass, sparkling like stars he forgot existed, the glow of the screen felt warm against his coat. A puddle formed under his curled shape, and in the glossy light cast by the buzzing screen, he was startled to see the other Mono staring back at him from the reflection he forged. He sat mystified by the color of his coat and the way his eyes glistened beneath the bill of his cap, while the television continued to croon at him with a twittering sing lost in transmission.