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Nine? Can you hear me? If you can, please be
patient. I promise that I will answer you.
I understand that you might be afraid.
Nine wakes up to the date, the time, and a voice. The message is short, and it is all that they know. Someone asking for their patience. A promise to respond. Acknowledgement of fear. Then, radio silence.
Nine remains frozen for only five seconds before fumbling, clamoring for the correct instruments, writing out the right words. There isn't enough energy to send something long, but they would have been too impatient anyway to get down everything they wanted. The message is sent, six questions in rapid-fire shot.
They wait, tense.
Seconds stretch themselves into minutes.
Yet there's no response.
Hastily, they move to try again. They concentrate, calibrate, calculate, and completely crumple at the numbers.
10 days, 23 hours, 47 minutes, 18 seconds until they have enough of a charge.
Nine falls back with no other action plans available to them and little else to do. Silence resettles around them, and in its wake, Nine struggles against a lack of momentum that has built up in their time asleep. An object at rest... Lethargy settles on them like a layer of dust, like thick blankets, like the pressure deep undersea. They're unaware of their body, but this thought isn't particularly concerning to them, so they let it go.
They've been sleeping for... they can't remember. It feels like ages. The last thing they remember is somewhere in the early 1980's… the fuzziest recollection of someone calling for them, but so distant. The memory blips and fades. The calendar says '43 now. ...Asleep for 63 years…?
But the voice... It feels monumental. They search their memory, withdraw it with a ginger grip, and set it to replay.
Nine? Can you hear me? If you can, please be
patient. I promise that I will answer you.
I understand that you might be afraid.
And again.
Nine? Can you hear me? If you can, please be
patient. I promise that I will answer you.
I understand that you might be afraid.
And again.
Nine? Can you hear me? If you can, please be
patient. I promise that...
It's such a short message. Nine repeats it over and over, clinging to it like a lifeline as they count the seconds.
The days pass in trembling restlessness, and they shoot another message the nanosecond the recharge time is up.
They keep their ears pricked for the specific voice, memorized through repetition. But... there's no response. And the next charge will take the same 11 day timespan. With little else they can do...
Nine? Can you hear me? If you can, please be
patient...
Nine's next message is tentative, apologetic, like maybe if they listen, maybe if they're patient enough, like what was asked of them.... They promise to save the rest of their charge to listen.
Listening is about all they can do, really.
Nine takes the time in between to draft increasingly desperate sounding transmissions in their head, promising that they wouldn't send any of it, and that they're just composing messages to satiate themselves, like popping placebo pills.
...In a moment of weakness, they end up sending it regardless once the charge is ready.
Time passes like this, a slow crawl, dark pitch dripping in zero gravity. Now that Nine is awake, they can't really settle back into sleep. It's like they forgot how to.
Instead, they search through their memories. To their dismay, they find there isn't much. There's some wisps of radio stations and TV broadcasts they must have tuned in on at some point, some lectures on interstellar travel or something like that? But nothing particularly substantial, as they slowly trawl through their memory banks throughout the month.
Sometime towards the latter half of May, they stumble on some kind of memory that feels... weirdly solid. They press onward inquisitively.
Something clicks.
Another day of this, huh?
not even halfway done yet, haha.
Alright, where were we?
this one, the line is pass, ring one, pass, pass, ring, pass-
Well, is this counting the one we just did?
nope, new line.
I thought I said we should use the 1s and 0s method instead of calling them rings and passes. A pass is too complicated.
no it's noooot, you know what pass means, i know what pass means–
Yes, but if I tell you to pass, do I mean pass the needle or pass the ring?
what? aren't those the same thing?
That's what I mean–
Nine pulls out of the conversation, bewildered but... comforted? It feels comforting. Like waking up to distant laughter and chatter from family and knowing you're not alone. It's nice. Nine had followed one line of conversation, but there seemed to be many all at once, a stream of discussion from all around. Instead of chaos and cacophony, it feels more cozy than anything, the way it all seems to blur. Nine slowly dips in again.
Double check me?
...All fine from my angle. Needle?
Ah! Right, here, here. Sorry, I'm just...
Oh, right, how's your husband?
Well, the flu, right? He's finally over it, but now...
Oh, mmn, the kids caught it?
Sigh. Yeah, again. It's annoying, it feels like ping pong. I really don't want it next, but, y'know, I still have to look out for them, they're my kids, for pete's sake.
I understand, it's a difficult balance, isn't it?
You said it.
Nine rouses from the mundane conflicts and casual exchanges, and finds that when they check the calendar, it's no longer May. On a hurried instinct, Nine sends a short transmission, just a repeat of last time, as they resituate themselves with how much time had passed. They really felt… there, for a bit. Within the memory, with the voices. Like they'd stepped back behind a curtain somewhere and just now came back to awareness.
Rather than feeling upset about the time loss, Nine feels strangely at peace. If time wants to pass quicker, then no one would catch them complaining about it unless a transmission came in. And if it did? Well. Whoever was on the other end could wait a little to hear back from them, couldn't they?
...Thinking that makes Nine feel a little too spiteful. They set an automatic timer for their next transmission charge before they fall back into the chatter. Voices speak over them, a wave of reassurance, however false it is. They still don't know what this is. They don't know where this memory is coming from, or if it's a memory at all. But the fragments are warm, and if Nine focuses, they don't feel as alone.
When do you think it'll be ready?
Hopefully in my lifetime, ohoho...
it's gonna take a lot longer if you don't- Scott, next one, not this one. one over. one–
okay, okay, i heard you babe, this one?
yeah. god, what was i saying?
Maybe you'll take longer than us, ohoho~
Nine sets up the alarm for every 11 days, but otherwise rarely rouses themself from the comfort of the voices. Most of the time they blend together, but they have subtle differences sometimes. Nine can occasionally pick them out, but doesn't feel the need to recognize the distinctions. They float in it like a protostar in a molecular cloud, until their alarm alerts them once more.
hm? break for lunch?
Oh, is it that time already?
haha, don't have to tell me twice
what, are you excited?
maybe a little! can you blame me?
All of this feels so tedious…
Well, go on. Don't let us keep you.
They hum to themself as they transcribe the next message. The words are flicked out, a needle sent through a pinhole and awaiting a partner to receive it on the other end. But when there's still no response, Nine can't be sure anyone is catching it.
Why isn't it going through?
Have a little faith, won't you?
it's been a month...
Just wait. It'll be okay.
What if this is all just a big waste of time?
It's hard to waste something when there's so much excess...
Another 11 days, another message, another disappointment, another fall back on the voices. They seem… pricklier than they usually do, calm conversation feeling more volatile.
I'm literally telling you, it's useless!
It's not. It can't be.
did we mess up a line somewhere? what did we do wrong?
We didn't do anything wrong! This isn't even our fault, I won't accept blame for this. This is on them. We don't have time for this.
We have nothing but time-
YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN! We're using our limited energy on this and it's a fucking waste! We can't keep dedicating resources to this. If they want to talk, fine, but I'm done with trying.
When the timer alerts Nine to send a message, they feel a wave of irritation blanketing them, following them out to transcribe. Their message is curt and snappish. Some other feeling distantly urges them to add a "please" in there, but otherwise, they shoot it off with a flare of temper.
After a minute, the feeling lessens somewhat. Nine stares at their transmission timer ticking downwards and distantly reviews the message they just sent. Some part of them feels justified, another feels a little bad about it, but most of it feels a little distant. As if Nine had typed the text through thick gloves, making the motions but at the same time not touching any of it.
Nine doesn't know what to make of it.
It's like an itch when the charge builds up again, towards the end of July, but Nine refrains. They did mean their message; they weren't going to keep wasting energy on this. It wasn't doing anything to help them. Sending enough messages wasn't going to make the person on the other end change their mind.
But... Nine doesn't feel like falling back to the voices this time. They don't know why, it just felt... off. In a way. They were just memories anyway, weren't they? Not like they would mind Nine not listening in for a while...
Nine remains in the quiet for about a day before they feel like they're clawing at the walls of a prison again. Still uneasy about the voice memories, they go back to relistening to the first transmission again.
Nine? Can you hear me? If you can, please be
patient. I promise that I will answer you.
I understand that you might be afraid.
Nine can't help but respond. After getting used to the voices' conversations, they feel the need to talk back.
I am afraid. I'm afraid you won't come back for me. Why did you speak once and leave me here?
If you can, please be patient. I promise
that I will answer you. I understand-
I feel like you don't understand. I've been out here for years now, and you're the only thing I've ever known to be real.
I understand that you might be afraid.
And the longer you don't answer me, the more I feel like... maybe you're not real. Maybe I'm crazy. Maybe the voice thing should have been a clue. I don't know anymore.
Please be patient.
I am. I'm trying so hard to be patient, but I'm so... alone.
I promise that you won't be alone forever.
Nine startles at the new line. There's no ping of transmission, but–
I-is that you? Is this-
This isn't actually from them, no.
Oh. You're just... this is probably just because I've been listening to your one message for so long. You're... not real.
...However you want to see it. I'm here for you.
Am I really making up new transmissions from you? Just because I'm lonely?
There's no harm, if it helps you feel better.
It just feels like false hope.
I think that any hope is better than none.
I don't even know your name.
Patience for now. It's all I've asked for.
...
I know. I'll send you another message soon.
You can't say that.
I promised you that-
-That you'll answer me, I know. When? When will you finally…?
...
...I'm just... talking to myself. You're just me. You don't know, because you're literally just me.
...
...I understand that... you might be afraid.
Please... stop.
...
...I don't want to call you Patience. Can I call you something else?
...It's August, isn't it? Call me that.
Nine would swallow if they could. The feeling of choking up, a clog somewhere that won't clear. Nine feels like they're praying to a god that doesn't exist, but still...
August... I hope you answer soon.
I will. I promised.
Nine breaks again in September. They had returned to the voices after a week into August – both the month and the new voice's appearance. The memories seemed… relieved? At their return, if they were to ascribe an emotion to them. They've mentioned nothing of roiling anger and spitfire responses; just pleasant chatter about babysitting the kids and what Sunday night's dinner would be and could Juliet pass the needle, please? Nine resettles into the mundane hubbub.
August has been occasionally speaking too. August doesn't need Nine to step back and listen for her to be able to speak. Nine could be alert, thinking something mundane, and August would casually toss in some two cents.
Sometimes they'd have a short conversation, if Nine could put aside the fact that they were just talking to themself. Most times, Nine would stay quiet after a quip from August. They... She – Nine gets the vibe of correction at some point while talking to her – never seemed to take it to heart, and they'd move on. She always responded if there was conversation though. Never leaving Nine hanging for a reply, always offering a last word, as if to make up for her real(?) counterpart.
August speaks soft and warm and a little different from the first transmission, or at least Nine thinks she does. August blends what Nine thought they remembered of the transmission, a memory of a memory of a memory, slowly wearing away the details, and… what if it was just a memory? If Nine could imagine August's voice like this, making new messages from nothing, what if all of it was made up all along? What if the first transmission wasn't real, what if Nine really was alone out here forever, what if-
You need to answer. Please answer.
Calm down. It's okay. You're okay.
It's not it's not it's not it's not it's
You're okay. That was real. The me that's out there is real, I came from that transmission. It was real, you remember it clearly, I know you do.
Nine does remember. It's how they woke up, the message suddenly coming through. They wouldn't have woken up otherwise.
Yes. It's okay. You're not alone. The me out there is real, and she will answer. And... I understand that I make it difficult to believe. If you don't want me to talk anymore, I can... I can stop. But I want to be here for you. I know you don't want to be alone.
Please... stay.
I will. I'm here. I promise.
...Okay. Thank you.
Of course.
Nine shoots off simple messages intermittently through the rest of September and October, and tunes back into the voices in the meantime. Nine's been noticing them seemingly starting to mix foreign memories with Nine's current reality. They still chat a lot about their home lives and lunch breaks, but seem vaguely aware of the situation at hand as well.
End of the year is coming up, huh?
Don't remind us.
oh, but isn't it exciting? holidays with the family?
Did I tell you about that time my husband came home with the biggest turkey I've ever seen? Must have been 20 pounds, haha~
remind me to come over for thanksgiving dinner at your house, grace
Oh, you're invited for sure, but I doubt he'll do it again. Got tired of eating variations of turkey-based meals about 10 pounds into the leftovers.
ha!
Hahaha~
Oh, but wouldn't it be such a gift to get a check in on, say, Christmas?
It'd be a fucking miracle, I'd say.
I wouldn't time it for Christmas, no. Logically, there's more reasoning for next year.
oh, sure, ringing in the new year with a new message!
Wouldn't hurt to look forward to.
Christmas passes, and there's no response. Nine curls in on themselves as the first day of the new year passes into the unceremonious second. The calendar is an angry red now. It's fitting when Nine falls back and hears shouting.
Nothing. Nothing! All this and absolutely nothing to show for it.
Well… I don't know then. March maybe? That'd be an actual year since-
No, I don't care! Why do we bother anymore! This is useless.
Don't do anything rash-
I'm not rash, I'm rational! This is entirely fucking justifi–
Shush. Enough. Now.
...
...
...so how were your holidays, Vienna?
The voices don't mention it again, but Nine can sense the tense atmosphere whenever they silently check in, despite the pleasantries exchanged. As if everyone's avoiding the elephant in the room. Whenever Nine emerges, they feel less comforted, and more on edge than ever.
The situation feels hopeless. With just themself for company, they feel more stressed than they can bear.
The tension cuts, with an overstrung Nine holding the shears.
August, what am I doing wrong?
You're not doing anything wrong.
I have to be, you would have answered by now, why aren't you answering-?
I am, I promise, I'm right here-
You're not!
Nine, I'm... I'm sorry.
You can't say that, you can't mean that. Not in any way that matters. You can't speak for her, it's just me offering myself useless platitudes-
Which is it, Nine? Which do you want it to be?
What?
Which do you want me to be? You ask me to answer you as if I'm the genuine transmitter, but you also say I'm just you talking to yourself. Which one do you want me to be?
...I don't...
Neither. You can't be the person I want you to be, and I don't want you to just be me talking to myself. I just... I just don't want you to exist at all.
I...
I hate you. I hate you for making me hold out hope, I don't want you to be anything.
Nine...
Stop. Enough. This... is my final transmission. I'm giving up.
Nine, please be–
Patient? I can't be patient anymore. Every time I promise myself to give up hope, I never truly do and then I feel worse. I can't keep doing this for the rest of my life. I have to set my expectations- I have to let go of expectations entirely. If you're her memory, if you're me hoping, I don't care anymore. I have to give up on you, no matter what you are.
...
Final transmission. I mean it. I'm going to try and go back to sleep forever. Don't talk to me again unless you're real.
Nine hits send on their message and falls back before August has the chance to respond.
They're not sure she even would, if given the chance.
The voices are quiet in their murmurs, all soft tones and hushed whispers. Kids, work, lunch breaks. Nine tries to settle into the lull of it. It doesn't wash over them calmly anymore, but Nine doesn't need it to. They just want to drown.
Pieces of conversation flow over them, like wooden boards bobbing in the aftermath of a shipwreck, offering themselves for Nine to cling to.
-caught a cold. Decided to let them stay home from school today…
-a fight with her sister, but I'm sure it'll sort itself-
-feeling okay? i can barely tell you're-
Nine doesn't reach for any of them. They pass by. Nine drifts.
-we can't just let them-
-none of us can really do-
-if this is their choice, then...
No. No!
Hey, listen to me. It's... it's fucking March. March, can you believe it? And nothing! No response, we've been waiting for nearly a fucking year and- and aren't you mad? Come on, get up, aren't you fucking mad?!
Nine feels a surge of something hot and fierce run through their core. Rage, burning hot, boiling through the sea of apathy. A mix of other feelings: fear, warning, desperation.
Wait, what are y-
SHUT UP! WE'RE FUCKING MAD, AREN'T WE? Get up, we're not going to lie here and die! We're giving her a piece of our mind, come on!
Nine feels themself hauled up from the depths of wherever they were like a fish tangled in a net. Something is thrashing furiously, a heart thundering under floorboards, and Nine wakes with a righteous fire roaring to get the fuck over to the transmitter.
They transpose the message through a haze of resentment, each letter jabbed into place, demanding a fucking answer. It's sent off like a precision strike.
Nine comes to awareness numbly, reprocessing the sheer fact of existence after being out drifting for so long. The thrumming fury in their core has slowly transformed into a trembling sort of feeling.
...Okay. Good.
The voice is small, but Nine hears it, soft and indignant and scared, but above all, relieved.
The feeling flees. Nine follows it.
The state of the memory voices are in utter disarray upon their return.
Stop, why would you do that again?!
I don't care! Do you see the fucking state of things? She's not answering anyway, who gives a fuck?
we should still try to be nice... she was nice in her first message...
She left us after the first message. Plus, it wasn't even that bad. God forbid I add a few swears to our normal pathetic begging...
It doesn't matter, even if it was the most polite message anyone's ever sent, it doesn't matter, it's supposed to be their decision.
They were letting themself die! This is the only trick I knew I could pull off, it worked when I did it before!
You shouldn't have done it the first time either!
They agreed with me then! I just helped them say it!
You influenced them! I can't imagine how uncomfortable they must have felt about it!
they left the first time you did it...
W-well, they're here now. You feel them, don't you?
they must hate us...
Nine hesitates, then gathers their energy in this sleepy, distant state, just enough to speak.
I don't hate you.
The voices go silent all at once. Nine's never heard them all get so quiet like this before. There's always one conversation happening, and more often than not, a steady stream of multiple conversations at once. It feels unnatural, like freezing the Earth mid-rotation, like everyone holding their breath simultaneously.
Fortunately, the quiet doesn't last long.
...Hello.
Hello.
hello...!
hel-
That's enough.
it really isn't, hi! it's nice to hear from you.
You've never talked to us before. We always only just sense you there.
Sorry. I... guess I never tried speaking here. Being here makes me feel... foggy.
it's always been foggy here.
And also... I guess I thought you were all memories?
Yes.
We are.
if you say so!
Are we still?
probably not but i have a job so i don't really care about that right now...
can simple memories take control like… like that?
I can't say I know. But one of you definitely did.
Which one of you... did that?
...
...
...I did.
...Why?
What- Why? Because- because you were just... letting yourself fade away. Why would you do that?
I was... tired. Of being disappointed.
Yeah, who fucking isn't? But you don't just give up, you don't just lay down and...
I was mad. And you were mad too, once. I know you were, whenever you felt mad, I also felt it. I still do! It's fucking... it's unfair, it's all such bullshit, being left like this. I don't want you to be left like this, Nine!
Nine feels something catch as they hear their name. None of the voices have ever referred to them by name, at least... not including August.
The voices murmur softly.
At the end of the day... We all love you, Nine. Our lives right now are all centered around you. We just... don't know how to fix what's happening right now.
It's okay. I don't think anyone in here can fix what's happening. But... thank you for being here in the meantime.
Nine stays there with them, recovering. It feels fully comforting again, even moreso now that things have stabilized. They talk sometimes, commenting on the various discussions. The voices are always happy to hear from them, even if they accidentally interrupt or if it's an obvious question. They love to make conversation, and they'll continue to talk to each other even when Nine trails off, like water parting around a rock and continuing to flow, carrying its sediment. Nine's own babbling brook.
Sometimes the voices speak to them directly, asking for opinions, reminders, thoughts. They're pleased, even when Nine doesn't know how to answer certain questions. Nine has a feeling they're mostly using it as an excuse to check in on them anyway. It keeps them afloat. Nine passively treads water, mostly not to worry them. It's nice to be cared for enough to be checked in on, though.
Speaking of checking in...
Nine hears the automatic alert go off, a solitary beep to notify that the transmission time has charged enough for Nine to send off another message since their last one. They hesitate, on the cusp between waking up fully and staying back. The voices pick up on it immediately.
It's okay if you don't want to. It's a little disheartening.
you can stay here with us!
As long as you don't… y'know. I'm not going to force your hand if it's not an emergency.
Thanks.
D-don't thank me for that…
haha~
Nine silently frets to themself as the other voices tease each other. They have so much personality, as blurred as they all are. Nine thinks of August, alone and lost, and of their last conversation with them, their last demand of them. If Nine accepts these voices, then...
They're speaking before they can even think about it.
Um, I... I think I should check in with her.
oh sure!
If you really want to.
go for it~
We'll be here if you need us.
lunch break for Nine!
Yeah, lunch break for me.
The voices cheer delightedly. Nine feels a little lighter as they leave for wakefulness, and they try to keep a hold on it as they call out.
August?
August, are you there?
...
...N...ine... Can y...ou hear... me....?
August. I'm here.
I...If you can... I ca...n't answer you... I'm not...
It's okay.
I'm... sorry...
It's okay, you don't... I'm sorry. August...
I... didn't really understand you, the last time we talked. I was scared, and I got mad at you because I thought you were her, and I thought you were just me, and I tried to think both of those were true at the same time, but I don't think I... I don't think that's fair.
I still don't know what you are. If you're a memory, if you're just my wishful thinking. But also... I don't think I get to decide that. So if you want to be something... I want you to exist however you want to be.
...I don't...
I'm not... really her, even though I feel like her. The outside me, the one who first contacted you. I can't be... I'm supposed to be something makeshift. A self-made substitution to keep you company.
But I'm not exactly you either. I feel different than you, even though I exist with you and your thoughts. So... maybe I'm some sort of third thing. I don't know.
But... I know that I want to be here. And I want to be real.
Then you're real. You're real and you're you.
August stays quiet for a long time. Nine waits with her. Her voice comes back, soft and warbly.
...Please... don't give up on me.
I... I won't. I'm here. I promise.
...Okay. Thank you.
Of course.
The weeks continue. Nine sends out some simple transmissions, though it's more about routinely waking up and checking on August. Like taking a weekly walk around the block to stretch their legs, to prove that they're not going dormant again.
Once they figure out that they can tag along, Nine occasionally brings the other voices up with them. It's hard for them to stick fully. They're a blurry mess of fragments, pieces of identities that stabilize better when not up in awareness, but they seem content with this somehow. Some of them can accompany Nine better when performing specific roles, or while talking about specific things, or when feeling specific emotions. They spend most of spring figuring out the intricacies of it.
Even though there isn't much to do but wait and talk to August, the voices seem to like it when they get to float around Nine up in full awareness. The running joke continues to be referring to it as "taking a lunch break" which Nine finds amusing. They happily include August while conversing.
Patience – she's had Nine and the voices test out both her names and has found joy in having both interchangeably – is settling into existence. During the month Nine had buried themselves, she had also made herself scarce, trying to fade away but not succeeding. Nine is grateful she survived the loneliness. She says the same to them.
After a while, Nine just visits without the alarm sounding. Voices get better at joining them, and they all flit around and keep each other company. They stop sending out transmissions in April, but Nine doesn't give up on her. She promised. They promised.
They're prepared for an uneventful rollover into June. Nine is relaxing back with the voices when the message cuts through.
Nine. I am so sorry. I can only transmit short messages. I need to preserve power and so do you. Listen very carefully. It takes 217 days for my message to reach you, and it takes another 217 for your response to reach me. Call me Ten in your messages so I know you're responding to me. More will follow. I love you so much.
Things fall to a shocked standstill before abruptly ramping up to a hundred.
holy shit
Is this real?
That wasn't Patience.
Anyone who wants to, come with me.
Holy shit.
Me! Coming!
Me too.
Lunch break for everyone, then.
Holy shit!
Patience is calling when Nine arrives, voices in tow. Her voice is notably different from the transmission's now that Nine's hearing it again, similar but also so distinctly hers. Nine feels just as happy to hear her speak as they are about the outer transmission.
Nine! Nine, I'm here. It's here, I promised.
I know!
Nine, I love you so much. There's a response, I promised-
we know! we know!!!!
happy happy happy!
Answer!
go go go!
Nine composes the message with the cacophony of the voices chattering, of August's reassurance, of the awaited transmission. It all overlaps like a blanket, weight comforting against the nerves of communication. There's an immense feeling of relief above all. An explanation, a time to expect, a promise finally, finally kept. And in the meantime, Nine has company to fall back on.
You said to call you Ten.
Who are you?
Why does it take so long?
I don't understand what is going on.
I don't know who I am or where I am.
Who are you?
I love you too.