And that wasn't so much a question as an order, really, to get outside. And she had been outside a few times, yes, mostly when they were collecting rain. She had savored the rain, reveled in the drops as they poured down her skin, washed off days of accumulated dirt and grime. But in the back of her mind had been that worry, that fear about someone invading their sanctuary. That fear that served as a background here in this island, even through the boredom of the past couple of days. And so she only stayed outside long enough for the rain to soak her a bit, and then ran back inside.
And Olivia wanted that, wanted to reclaim some part of herself, wanted to find some cards or watches, but at what cost? Why would she risk her life for a pack of cards?
Then again, why not?
Abby flashed in her mind again. Curled up, lying in red. But, no, instead of that, she was lying in dust.
Something surged in her. The same thing that pushed her from the first room, after her water had spilled. Some shadow of bravado.
So, after a few seconds of hesitation, she slowly nodded. "Sure."
Get Me Away From Here, I'm Dying
[ASK FIRST] [Content Warning: Polite Conversation]
Sure. Not confident, hardly an affirmation. But it was enough.
Jerkily, Georgia Lee nodded. "Okay."
They couldn't just leave it at that, though. There had to be a plan, a contingency in case they ran into trouble, some kind of structure so that they wouldn't find themselves wandering aimlessly and endlessly. She sat back down, searching for an unmarked space on the table's surface.
"First, let's make a list of all the things we'll want to pick up if we find them. More food and water, for one thing, and- and any useful weapons." She spared Olivia a glance which she tried to make friendly and gentle. "If we stumble across a pack of cards, we can take that too. Anything else?"
She took their suggestions, carving them into the table in tiny scrawl, cramped there by their games and the names of the dead and dying. It took longer than she had initially thought, but she was at least somewhat satisfied with the result.
"First thing in the morning, we'll go look around. Better to wait in case we have to vacate the area quickly, and then we won't be tired."
Georgia Lee found that she had difficulty getting to sleep that night; the suggestion of leaving for the first time in days had instilled a restlessness in her, or rekindled that which had already been there but suppressed.
"That is a great responsibility, to be the master of one's own fate."
"Of course. We are the subjects of the heavens, and so are not bound by the laws of the earth. This world is as an egg, and one day you will will hatch from it to your eternal reward, God willing. Until then you are free, absolutely, to do whatever you will, but know you this: if everything you do is your choice and your choice alone, then no one but you can be held accountable for how you act, or what fate befalls you, and know you too that there most assuredly will be an accounting."
When she did sleep, she dreamed of flying.
((Georgia Lee Day continued in Until Then, You Are Free))
Jerkily, Georgia Lee nodded. "Okay."
They couldn't just leave it at that, though. There had to be a plan, a contingency in case they ran into trouble, some kind of structure so that they wouldn't find themselves wandering aimlessly and endlessly. She sat back down, searching for an unmarked space on the table's surface.
"First, let's make a list of all the things we'll want to pick up if we find them. More food and water, for one thing, and- and any useful weapons." She spared Olivia a glance which she tried to make friendly and gentle. "If we stumble across a pack of cards, we can take that too. Anything else?"
She took their suggestions, carving them into the table in tiny scrawl, cramped there by their games and the names of the dead and dying. It took longer than she had initially thought, but she was at least somewhat satisfied with the result.
"First thing in the morning, we'll go look around. Better to wait in case we have to vacate the area quickly, and then we won't be tired."
Georgia Lee found that she had difficulty getting to sleep that night; the suggestion of leaving for the first time in days had instilled a restlessness in her, or rekindled that which had already been there but suppressed.
"That is a great responsibility, to be the master of one's own fate."
"Of course. We are the subjects of the heavens, and so are not bound by the laws of the earth. This world is as an egg, and one day you will will hatch from it to your eternal reward, God willing. Until then you are free, absolutely, to do whatever you will, but know you this: if everything you do is your choice and your choice alone, then no one but you can be held accountable for how you act, or what fate befalls you, and know you too that there most assuredly will be an accounting."
When she did sleep, she dreamed of flying.
((Georgia Lee Day continued in Until Then, You Are Free))
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
But Olivia never slept.
She did dream, however.
While she kept watch, walked countless numbers of circles around the room, she dreamed of all the things she wanted, of a watch in her wrist and a deck of cards in her hand, of her family, of Cochise, of Irene and Hannah. She thought of them, dreamed of them being with her, and then, once the thought came into her head that she might never get some of those things back again, that she might never get some of the things she wanted, she tried to forget about them. But no, to forget would be to murder. No, she tried to not think about them. If she couldn't go to sleep, then maybe she could put some of those dreams to sleep instead. Yes, sleep, that was the word.
But then, something occurred to her, because in the act of trying to not think about Irene, Irene in particular, she'd thought about her. She'd thought about their travel to the asylum, and she remembered something, something that had escaped her mind from Irene's death up until now. They were walking, and Olivia had forgotten her sweater. And it was cold, and freezing, and without her watch and now her sweater, she felt naked, and so, and so
She rushed across the room on tip-toes, trying not to wake Georgia Lee up. She rushed towards her bag, and almost immediately, she felt it, she felt the sweater that Irene had loaned her. It was hers. It was a piece of Irene. And aside from Irene's rotting corpse lying who-knew-where, this was all that would be left of her, and now Olivia had a piece of Irene that wasn't her name, that was concrete, that she could feel and hug and now she was hugging it and pretending that Irene was hugging her because this could be felt, it had sleeves that could be felt and she could be put these sleeves, these lanky, massless arms around her and pretend it was Irene, but in the end, it was just pretend, and Irene would still never be back, and so, Olivia sunk into the table and cried again, cried for the nth time, but at least this time, Georgia Lee wasn't awake to see her, judge her, fear her, only the cameras and everyone watching her, and now it wasn't that she didn't mind the cameras, it's just that they didn't feel as important to her as Irene's sweater.
((Olivia Fischer continues in Until Then, You Are Free))
She did dream, however.
While she kept watch, walked countless numbers of circles around the room, she dreamed of all the things she wanted, of a watch in her wrist and a deck of cards in her hand, of her family, of Cochise, of Irene and Hannah. She thought of them, dreamed of them being with her, and then, once the thought came into her head that she might never get some of those things back again, that she might never get some of the things she wanted, she tried to forget about them. But no, to forget would be to murder. No, she tried to not think about them. If she couldn't go to sleep, then maybe she could put some of those dreams to sleep instead. Yes, sleep, that was the word.
But then, something occurred to her, because in the act of trying to not think about Irene, Irene in particular, she'd thought about her. She'd thought about their travel to the asylum, and she remembered something, something that had escaped her mind from Irene's death up until now. They were walking, and Olivia had forgotten her sweater. And it was cold, and freezing, and without her watch and now her sweater, she felt naked, and so, and so
She rushed across the room on tip-toes, trying not to wake Georgia Lee up. She rushed towards her bag, and almost immediately, she felt it, she felt the sweater that Irene had loaned her. It was hers. It was a piece of Irene. And aside from Irene's rotting corpse lying who-knew-where, this was all that would be left of her, and now Olivia had a piece of Irene that wasn't her name, that was concrete, that she could feel and hug and now she was hugging it and pretending that Irene was hugging her because this could be felt, it had sleeves that could be felt and she could be put these sleeves, these lanky, massless arms around her and pretend it was Irene, but in the end, it was just pretend, and Irene would still never be back, and so, Olivia sunk into the table and cried again, cried for the nth time, but at least this time, Georgia Lee wasn't awake to see her, judge her, fear her, only the cameras and everyone watching her, and now it wasn't that she didn't mind the cameras, it's just that they didn't feel as important to her as Irene's sweater.
((Olivia Fischer continues in Until Then, You Are Free))