(Untitled)

[_secretary_]

Lee had corrected the typos on her resume after Mr Brennan had told her to in the Nexus, in fact she'd done more than that, she'd retyped the whole thing from scratch six times before she got it right with no errors, well only one error but that was deliberate. The word 'abliity' stood out like a sore thumb, but not wanting him to underestimate

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[patchwork_head]

Patch didn't look up from his guitar. He strummed it once, idly, but the positioning of his hands were awkward. It was clear that he didn't really know how to play. On one side of the desk was a long truncheon marked with a series of studs on the hilt. Behind it was a small glass bowl.

The interior of the bowl seemed to radiate a soft light that changed in color with each blink of the eye. There was a single fish within--only no, it wasn't a fish so much as a butterfly, only that wasn't correct either. Its form was changing along with the color, and for a moment it looked like a woman with troubled eyes but a wide and honest smile, and the woman looked from Patch to Lee quizzically before it was an animal again, something alien that had perhaps been discovered in the Western lakes of Patchwork Earth.

On the wall by Patch's head was a series of crudely-drawn pictures on construction paper. Some of them moved in a manner similar to the creature in the bowl, but some of them were familiar crayon images, a family of five and assorted strange animals. In one picture, placed more strategically and clearly Patch's favorite amongst them, the child(ren?) had drawn a comic strip featuring a stick figure with a cigarette in its mouth battling with a nasty-looking princess.

Patch put the guitar aside finally--it didn't balance quite right, as there was something like a lawnmower pull cord engine on its backside--and looked up, bored. "Yes?"

[_secretary_]

Lee tried to mutter a thank you to the young man who exited first, her head turning to follow him as he brushed past her, she stepped aside to allow him room, chewing her fingernail obsessively as she tentatively stepped just inside the threshold, knuckles lightly rapping once more on the door to announce her presence, her gaze still following him down the hall.

Turning her attention to the inside of the room, she felt the flush in her cheeks rise at the awkwardness of waiting patiently for either of the men to even notice her. She sniffed and her eyes fell curiously to the array of peculiarities within, eyes darting from object to object, trying to take in the scene, but there was far too much to make sense of. She found herself staring at the changing form in the bowl, her mouth hanging open in her amazement. Quickly she became aware of her gaping and corrected it, eyes lowering, looking at her own feet instead, hoping it had gone unnoticed.

Lifting her chin, the corners of her lips turned up slightly at the man's smile, the smile quivering in her apprehension and unease. She smoothed at her skirt again with her palms, straightening her appearance one final time.

She swallowed hard when he spoke, taking a moment to find her voice, quietly and evidently unsure of herself she replied "Mr Brennan, Sir, I uh... brought my corrected resume, as you requested" She reached out her arm and leaned forward carefully as she offered it to him.

[patchwork_head]

"Mmhm." He slid his hand palm-down beneath the truncheon, flicked it upward so that it sailed into the air, and caught it. It was a Prod, a stun-weapon used in Patchwork Earth's archaic prison system. Patch had done what he could to reform the process--and had quickly abolished prisons like TrazX that relied upon "folded space" to keep the undesirable element segregated--but there were still a few of these artifacts in circulation.

He'd confiscated it from a student months prior, a snot-nosed teenager with six fingers on each hand who had been using it to torment a girl who'd spurned him. While it was generally used for something like a large beesting, on the higher settings it could disrupt nerve functions entirely, and was thus the perfect weapon to use against a girl who could crumple sheets of tin with her mind. Since then, it had been a fixture in the office, and the object of many jokes amongst the higher staff. Mike Warner had been found tied to the flagpole in the center of campus with a car bumper after remarking it'd make a good butt plug for Ratchet.

Patch found his mind travelling back to days before the nexus. He thought of 'Lex and tried not to. The afternoon out at the batting cages. But that only made him think of Mags, and Michelle, who were not far away at all, his past always lurking outside his bedroom window, or between his sheets. All he'd ever wanted to do for a living was write comic books. The multiverse was said to act on a sort of wish-fulfillment, but he hadn't asked for any of this.

"Right. Well, you're here, and you want to be my secretary." He stood up slowly and turned to look out the window. Blaquesmith was outside on the lawn, teaching some of the elemental kids how to meditate. He was floating upside down in a lotus position, his staff before him, and the kids were trying to restrain the urges to push their classmates, gossip, and otherwise remain unfocused. Everyone here was staring down responsibility and balking.

"What do you know about Patchwork Earth, Miss Holloway?"

[_secretary_]

She flinched as he sent the truncheon flying into the air, gasping slightly in her surprise, and dropping the paperwork onto the near edge of the desk as she stepped backwards a touch. He unnerved her and she instantly felt those delightful twinges of pleasure that always accompanied her apprehension.

He was so unpredictable, that much was evident already, she envisaged working for him would be akin to what she'd grown to appreciate in Edward. Never knowing what to expect next, and always kept on her proverbial toes.

She followed his gaze to the window, unable to comprehend the sight of someone floating upside down. Lee had only just arrived in the multiverse, and everything was new to her, unknown, she'd heard hints of magic, but that was as far as her knowledge stretched.

"I'm afraid I know very little, if anything at all Mr Brennan Sir" she cringed in her response, regretting having done no research now.

[dontcallmeyoda]

The insectoid telepath opened one eye briefly and gazed at Lee up in the window, and then at Patch, but then paid them no mind.

[patchwork_head]

Patch sighed softly. It was one thing to play games with this girl, which was an incredibly... appetizing prospect, but it was entirely another to let her wander PE and wind up endangering herself for the sake of his authoritarian image. He slowly turned and eased back into the seat, and watching her carefully, placed the Prod back down on the desk, gently and to one side. Then he let his voice soften. "What kind of books do you like to read, Lee?"

[_secretary_]

Her feet hadn't moved from the spot before his desk, hands hanging loosely infront of her, unconsciously twiddling her fingers, interlocking them, running her nails underneath the opposite hand's, rubbing the cuticles, picking nervously at the skin just above. Lee's eyes never once leaving him as he sat back down, except to watch his hand carefully place the Prod down.

"Books Mr Brennan? Oh, I umm read allsorts, from romance to classics." Her gaze darted to the window and the world outside, and then to the odd collection of objects within his office. "I'm not much of a fantasy or science fiction fan though"

[patchwork_head]

"Right." Patch closed his eyes. "Well, you're through the looking glass now, and for better or worse it's the ones who anticipated the unreal that are best equpped to thrive."

He gestured out the window towards the strange-looking teacher. "Lee, imagine that what they say in science might be true, is. Every single decision we make, good or bad, right or wrong, minor or major, both possibilities are equally true until they're observed. Quantum physics. The idea that every decision causes a split, because somewhere the truth we didn't cause was caused, somewhere our every regret never occurred, and neither did our triumphs."

He started walking to his left, past the window to a few small framed images on one wall. There was a small square one that didn't seem to fit amongst the rest. "Alternate realities, Miss Holloway. Science fiction and fantasy. These are things that scientists have always believed, yes? So to find out it's true, it's not really that startling."

He took the frame from the wall. There was what appeared to be a paper napkin behind the glass, with something crude and loose sketched out across it. A rectangle and a sphere intersecting, with vectors passing through in arcs and angles. His fingertips slid across the glass slowly, and Patch got a far away look.

"If all of those parallel universes, parallel times and choices and possibilities were train tracks, Miss Holloway, the nexus where you arrived... the funny little bar with everyone talking at once about homosexuality and pastries... that's the train station where you get a free transfer. Grand Central Station, even, a big wide open arena where everyone from different trains are milling about to stretch their legs, or switch trains. Trying to pick a better world, which is all we ever want."

Patch turned and looked at her. "This world... Patchwork Earth... this is the part of the line where all the trains derail and crash into each other."

He placed the napkin back in the wall, and took a quiet moment to assure it was straight and level. He could hear 'Lex's voice. "My heart will break before I cry," she was saying, and he cleared his throat weakly.

"This place... this world... I made it. I didn't mean to, I didn't want to, but I made it. And now I'm responsible. I'm a father, Miss Holloway. I have an infinite number of children, plus two. And I have to take care of them all, even the ones whose names I can't remember. Because they're here because of me." On a nearby shelf was a bottle of scotch, and he picked it up. "It's a lot of work, and sometimes... I need help." His hand was shaking as he poured into a glass.

There was a cigarette in his mouth, then, though it'd be impossible to tell where exactly it came from. "Nano Blue," it said in tiny laser-like etching around the hilt of the filter. When his glass was poured, he replaced the stopper on the bottle and lit the cigarette, orange light tracing the long scar that cut a diagonal across his face.

And then the orange light was suddenly so much brighter, and it was all around them. He turned, and the drink and the cigarette fell simultaneously as outside the window, all of Patchwork Earth seemed to erupt in flame.

"Oh, no..." It was a hoarse whisper, not even surprised, really, but still thunderstruck. He stumbled back a step, and leaned quietly against a heavy bureau, breathing heavily. There was a large manuscript encased on the shelf by his head reading "Tears of the Phoenix."

[_secretary_]

She follows his explanation with a great deal of care, not wanting to miss anything or forget. She nods and smiles, Quantam Physics she has a basic understanding of, the whole cat in the box thing springs to mind when he mentions it, and parallel universes based on decisions makes complete sense to her even if she never thought it to be true.

What he was explaining was the actual reality of many mens' theory, and THAT was where she was for want of a better word 'gobsmacked'.

The simile he used for the nexus and trains made perfect sense, but Patchwork Earth was where they collided? And he was responsible? She blushed a little at her own inadequacies infront of this man that knew so much, was in a position of importance and not just that but the weight on his shoulders must be immense. She had already been in awe of him, now she knew why.

Her shock at the flames was more than apparent, she gasped, looking between the world outside in flames and Patch, she was in a semi state of panic, she floundered, her words coming out in a stutter.

"I...I...Mr Brennan...what?" The words turned to silent mouth gestures, she looked to him expectantly and worry written all over face.

[patchwork_head]

After the initial flare had passed, it was much clearer that the flames were torches and bonfires, controlled--though they were everywhere. Off to one corner near the horizon, however, it looked as though an entire forest was burning. And indeed it was, as the DRYAD system mourned the loss of its kindred spirit, and erupted in sympathy pain. All in all, however, the initial shock gave way to despair--it was fairly clear, after a moment, what was happening. It was like a candlelight vigil and a funeral pyre, but across an entire world.

"My friend... she..." He lit a new cigarette. "My friend 'Nix has passed away."

[_secretary_]

She just stood there, unsure what to say or do, she watched him silently for a few moments.

"I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?" She knew her offer was useless, but it felt polite, and she was concerned.

((so sorry this took so long, been without internet))