Event Log - Malnosso World

[lucetimods]

Who: Everybody!
What: A field trip for the entirety of Luceti!
When: October 27th, until the end of November 2nd
Where: The Happiest Place on the Moon, Malnosso World!
Summary: So you remember all those times Luceti was transformed into Luceti Land? Welcome to Malnosso World, Luceti Land's bigger, cooler brother. Be sure to keep all hands inside the rides at all times, and refer to your map if you get lost. Trust me, you'll get lost.
Rating: F for Fun!

Comments

[tearmeanewone]

[Elizabeth looks at the reflection, then at Rosalind--her eyebrows come together in confusion when she confirms that the two have separate reactions to that thought.]

[Before she can point it out, Rosalind is moving to another mirror and Elizabeth is following along. Partially because she didn't know what to make of that last moment and wanted an answer, but mostly because Rosalind, Robert, and Booker were the only people who knew the significance of what she'd just seen.]

[As Elizabeth crosses into the next mirror, the reflection is much more familiar. She had outgrown that dress almost a year ago, as she had the large hairbow. But this younger version looked very carefree, almost wide-eyed and naive.]

...books, I suppose. I guess Robert was very careful about what he allowed me to read?

[quantumgrammar]

To say the least.

[It had been a mercy, that Comstock had been more preoccupied with his city and his flock than he had with the specifics of Elizabeth's enclosure, and that once a book found its way into her quarters its only tell was its cover. It appeared to have been advantageous, as well, that Robert had such faith in the power of stories to both form and inform. In the end, they had left Comstock with anything but a lamb.]

It was always our good fortune that Comstock could be so fantastically blind to well-veiled duplicity.

[tearmeanewone]

Ironic, considering he was nothing but a sham too.

[Elizabeth studies Rosalind's reflection for a moment, then tries to change the subject a little. She had never liked talking about Comstock more than was necessary. Not now that she was free and rid of him for the moment.]

How old are you here? [She nods to the reflection and puts her hands behind her back.]

[quantumgrammar]

. . . eleven.

[Rosalind does not hesitate long - she is after all, by nature, anything but indecisive. But she is not used to speaking about personal matters or reminiscing, and has no reason to think such a thing should actually matter to Elizabeth. She is, after all, no better than a force of nature as far as the girl is concerned. She is a thing that has acted upon her without feeling or conscience, pushed and pulled and shaped her. She's never pretended that the whole impetus to push her toward a good or moral end was anything but Robert's battle. If the girl seeks at all to understand her, she would not be shocked to learn that it was for the purpose of undoing her. Vendettas have been chased far longer, and over far less.]

In the midst of a years-long struggle to avoid being sent to a boarding school, as I recall.

[tearmeanewone]

The kind where they teach you to... mend socks and set tables, right? [Elizabeth shifts her weight and crosses her arms. She doesn't suspect that she would have appreciated something like that either.]

[For a moment, Elizabeth chews on the inside of her cheek, then decides to bring up what she reasoned Rosalind already knew.]

I listened to a lot of your voxophones. The one about the mirror, and seeing a girl who was and was not you. And how your mother thought it was just a bad dream. I figure your mother wanted nothing more than for you to do cross-stitch for the rest of your life.

[quantumgrammar]

[Not quite just mending socks and setting tables, but still well below Rosalind's level of advancement at that age. Elizabeth's summary of it draws a brief look of approval to her face before she looks down at herself, smoothing the illusory smock in a spare, deliberate gesture. When she speaks, her voice is as contemplative as it ever is when discussing theorems or proposing hypotheses, eyes turning toward Elizabeth in earnest rather than simply her counterpart in the mirror.]

She wished for my happiness, ultimately. In all likelihood it was the brightest future she could imagine for me. [She moves on, to a mirror that simply warps her reflection with curves and incline, though for a second between mirrors she imagines she sees her reflection several metres off - pale and laid in still repose, hands folded across her breast over an overflowing bouquet, hollyhocks and hydrangeas spilling out across her suitcoat. She does not linger on it, and stills only before the optical illusion, rocking up onto her toes and watching as the image shifts.] I don't envy her, attempting to raise a child like myself.

[tearmeanewone]

[That was probably reasonable. From what Elizabeth saw of Columbia, not many of the women did much besides plan garden parties and escort their children to various places. Certainly a few became part of Columbia's Finest, however Elizabeth hadn't found any evidence of any female scientists in her tower aside from Rosalind. Perhaps the two of them had been, ultimately, blessed with the notion that there was more to be seen and more to be accomplished than what was laid within their easy reach.]

[Elizabeth follows Rosalind's path, pausing briefly and paling when one of the mirrors beyond--which should show her reflection--shows nothing at all. She hurries ahead to the less-ominious one, which is just giving her a strange wobbly-shape.]

Well, you got a taste of it yourself, in the end. [Elizabeth smiles at Rosalind.] You had to deal with me, any my incessant questions.

[quantumgrammar]

Questioning is one of the finest hobbies one can cultivate, provided one does not also acquire the habit of accepting the first given answer.

[The look she returns is something nearing a returned smile - perhaps as close to it as she comes, in her own dry way.]

As it stands, though, I'm not convinced you're in any danger of falling into that trap.