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“So.”
Tak! went the cue ball, as Harbor struck it with his cue stick.
“What’s it like, to be in Astral Form?”
It was late afternoon in the VALORANT HQ. Due to its construction, very few rooms were built with windows—the rec room was no exception. But the large wall-screen on the back wall depicted a living camera feed of the sunset off the coast of the remote island that HQ was built upon. It was, as always, a beautiful sunset, bright vermilion and sinking below the sea upon the horizon, casting the whole room—and thus, billiards table—in shades of red and gold. And it was in this gentle dimming light that Astra watched the cue ball smack its intended target, before rolling on, and on, and on, until it ever-so-gently tipped right into the pocket.
“अपशब्द,” said Harbor, dejected. “Could have sworn I had that one on lock.”
Astra laughed, walking over to the pocket. “That’s why we don’t swear on higher beings, noh? No gods, no masters, only us, chale.”
“Oh, I’ll drink to that one,” said Harbor, smiling in his charming, lopsided way. “But seriously. What’s it like?
Astra reached inside with her golden arm, scooping the cue ball out of the pocket. As she took it up, she reflexively shifted around the individual plates on her arm, raising and lowering them in a motion not unlike fidgeting to her. She glanced down her shoulder, considering the effect: it seemed like a wave, rippling up and down her arm, revealing hints of the glowing purple aether underneath. It appeared to interest Harbor, whose eyes were drawn to the magic show.
“Little hard to answer that one.” she said. “It'd be easiest to show you, but I can’t exactly bring you in there myself, can I? But very well. Walk with me here.”
Astra surveyed the table. She wasn’t in a good position at the moment—she’d been playing pretty well for most of the game, but Harbor was ahead of her now. Three of his striped balls were still on the table, which was one less than her four solid balls, not including the 8 ball. She had to keep talking. Buy herself some time to analyze the board, think of a way to win.
“Okay, so this cue ball, yeah?” She held it up, the artificial sunset light giving it a faint golden glow on the edges. “On the inside of the cueball, it’s made of… uh, plastic? Resin? I’m not sure. But on the outside of the cue ball, it’s not made of cue ball. The outside of it is made of air, and my hands holding the cue ball, and sometimes the table. But the inside is the inside, and the outside is the outside, and the outside can’t change the inside without a whole lot of force. This is how it works in the normal world.”
Astra glanced back at Harbor, briefly—he had his lips pursed together in thought. “You still with me, chale?” she asked.
“Of course, of course!” He chuckled. “You just reminded me of my old coworkers. They used to talk a lot about stuff like this.”
She smiled at the thought of herself in company with the academics of REALM, cable-knit sweaters and cargo pants lined up against her bright purple fabrics and ostentatious golden arm. Not a chance.
“In the Astral,” she said, “everything is made of the same stuff. No insides, no outsides. The stuff I am made of is the same stuff that the cue ball is made of, is the same stuff the table is made of, is the same stuff the air is made of. It’s all the same. There’s no inside or outside, no changes in materials, no nothing. All the same cloudy sort of stuff, trying to stick together.”
As she spoke, she stared at the table, lining up angles and shots in her mind. Briefly, she hoped Harbor wasn't looking down at the board too—she couldn't have him catching on to her plans.
“So I can’t really touch anything in Astral Form with most of my body, because then my body will forget which of the stuff is me and which of the stuff is the walls, or the floor, the doors, or whatever. But the gauntlet can. It's the thing I use to make stars, which is like, sort of pointing at a spot and gathering all the Astral in that spot to poke a hole into the real world, and then make it do fun stuff in reality.”
“Oh, and those are the smokes and the sucks and the smacks?” asked Harbor, eagerly.
“Pff!” Astra placed down the cue ball. “Waterboy, those crude words gonna make me blush.”
“Hehe,” said Harbor. Was he blushing too?
She shook her head, and aimed the cue stick. Focus. Get your head back in the game.
“But I digress. The stars may be flashy, but you know what's the most powerful thing the Astral lets me do?”
She'd need pitch-perfect precision for this part. Fortunately, she was pretty good at perfection.
Tak!
The 4-ball sank like a stone. Astra took aim again.
“The ability to look at things from a bird’s eye view—”
Tak!
“—and to make plans—”
Tak!
“—no one could have even imagined while at ground level.”
Tak!
It wasn’t just the balls that were sinking, one by one. Harbor’s jaw had dropped as he stared openmouthed at her shots—at the way they not only sank the balls, but lined the cue ball up in the exact position necessary to take the next shot.
“No fucking way.” he said.
“Yes fucking way,” she answered, taking aim at the 8-ball.
Tak!
And the room was silent once more, as the 8-ball rolled, on, and on, and on, until it ever-so-gently tipped right into the pocket she had aimed at, winning her the game.
Astra glanced up to Harbor, her face lit up in a grin. “So. That enough of an explanation for you, chale?"