CADO [DISCONTINUED]

= Ch 13: The Star and The Butterfly =

Jesse marches me down Main Street, his eyes set on an intangible prize.

"You could be an artist! Or a philosopher! Or maybe you could just stab people all day!" He jazzes his hands.

"So it's okay to cause suffering, but not okay to suffer?"

"Exactly! They aren't real people, no harm done."

"Can't we just visit one of the floating islands?" I gripe. "I'm sick of the shadow."

"I've heard they're only for the rich." He shoots me a giddy glare. "Guess you can't go on them until you get rich yourself."

"You little - I'm gonna fight you one of these days, and I swear I won't hold back!"

"Little? If anyone's little, it's you."

"You're barely taller!"

He marches me along, all tall and smug. Around us, the crowds part and bustle.

They're fake. They feel nothing. They aren't real. The crowds around us blur and morph, shadow figures on a greater stage, but people such as The Stranger and Mrs. Rowdan feel as real as anyone else I've ever met.

The shops that we pass have quaint storefronts, but their windows sit dark and empty, and their edges are blurred and murky. Why can't they have more life? I wish I could make each unique. I focus on one to my left. Plain, blue, classic. Its wooden front houses an ornate, wrought-iron-infused door, beneath which two rails twist along the edges of two front steps. As I focus on this store, the others blur and fuzz even further into oblivion, and next I know, my detailed masterpiece has already fallen a good few steps behind me.

Gah. It's useless. Still, I can't give up this easily. I focus on a new blur that's still approaching. Maybe a bike shop? Yes, and its display windows must be full of spinning wheels of all shapes and models! Its owner, a wrinkled old man — and yet again, it had passed. Hm... how can I add more detail in less time?

Aha!

All at once, our surroundings erupt with detail. I feel proud, but empty. It almost feels real, but it isn't.

"Woah," Jesse exclaims. "What'd you do?"

"I started reusing shop fronts I've already imagined. Like... almost copying and pasting stuff."

"You weren't doing that before?"

"Nope. Everything was artisan. Gourmet sights for only the finest of tastes." I give the air a chef's kiss.

Jesse only grumbles. "It's too much detail. Doesn't it take a lot of effort to maintain? You could use that energy elsewhere."

"But the details make this feel real. They're what adds life to things - what if the world was nothing but blurry shapes? That'd be terrible."

"I don't know; ever played the first Tomb Raider?" he asks. "People got pretty turned on over a few polygons."

Through a part in the crowd, the sharp, clear image of a woman appears

"Mom?" A cracking voice calls from down the street. "Mom?! Dammit, pick up the damn phone!"

I hesitate. "Jesse? What are you trying to pull this time?"

"I didn't do that," he replies.

It... it can't be.

I hasten my steps. Jesse scrambles to keep up.

"Woah, what are you — "

"Shh."

In the middle of the street, a girl in jogging gear paces, gripping an iPhone 6 in her shaking hand. Her pristine white tennis shoes grate on the stones as she whirls back and forth. The ghostly crowd ducks about her.