Chocolate 26; Pistachio 8
Author: Marina
Story: Shifts universe (post-Tremors)
Challenge: Chocolate 26 (nostalgia), Pistachio 8 (storytelling)
Toppings: Rainbow Sprinkles (Rand and Isabelle), Butterscotch (the history of magic use, why there are alternate realities, and a smidgen of Isabelle’s personal history)
Word Count: 1,852
Rating: PG
Summary: Rand and Isabelle bond over history.
Notes: I visualize this taking place during a trip Molly, Richard, and Rand took especially so Rand could meet Isabelle and Michael (which I started writing the beginning of before I decided I hated it and scrapped it, but you get this conversation and possibly one other because I want to write them anyway).
“Rand, do you like ice cream?”
He glanced up, closing his book around his finger to mark the place. “Who doesn’t?”
Isabelle smiled genuinely for the first time since he had met her. “For all I know, you could be lactose intolerant.”
“I’m definitely not lactose intolerant.”
“Would you like to take a walk with me to get some, then? My treat.”
“Yeah, sure.” He found a bookmark, tucked it into the book, and laid the book on the end table. “Where are we going?”
“There’s a nice little place I like, two blocks away.”
“Awesome.” Tucking his hands into his pockets, he followed her out the door.
Outside, a brilliant summer day reigned, and Rand made a face. He had spent so much of the past few days indoors that it had almost seemed as though there was no existence outside the four walls of Isabelle’s condo. Yet there it was, continuing as normal. He almost hated it. “How long have you and Michael lived here?”
“We bought this condo when we first married,” Isabelle said, glancing back at it fondly. “That was almost thirty years ago.”
“Really? You kept it all that time?”
She nodded. “These days, we’ve been splitting our time between this place and the mansion. I inherited it when my parents died, as Abraham had the compound by then and it was much too far out of the way to be any use to him.”
“He could have sold it.”
“My parents, and his, wanted it in the hands of someone who would keep it.”
“Why would you keep this house, then?”
“The mansion isn’t close enough to town for Michael’s job, or mine really.”
He shrugged, seeing the sense in it. Clearly, they could afford it, another thing that struck a chord within him. He had known that Isabelle and Michael were well off-Michael’s journalism career and Isabelle’s investments in real estate had both been enormously successful, and his mother had told him all about the financial support they had given that magic organization over the years. It was another thing to hear Isabelle talk about it so casually. Rand could not imagine living like that.
“Your parents tell me that you plan to major in History,” she said, after a few moments of silence.
“With a focus on American, yeah.”
“Where are you planning to get your degree?”
“I don’t know yet. I enrolled at the community college and I’ll transfer somewhere in two years.” It’s not because of money, so don’t ask, he added silently, almost daring her to. She did not, barely batting an eyelash when he glanced at her. “Did you go to college?”
“I went to Princeton,” she said, with a smile.
“How was that?”
“I enjoyed it, and got an excellent education that’s served me well. That’s also where I met Michael, which is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
That had been obvious from the start. Rand had not realized that any couple could be sappier than his own parents were, but Isabelle and Michael had proved him wrong, and how. He almost hoped the man would be late for dinner, to cut down on the time he had to spend watching it.
They reached the little ice cream shop, and Isabelle told him that he could order whatever he liked, so he treated himself to a double-scoop of vanilla in a waffle cone instead of his usual bowl. It turned out that she also liked waffle cones, but preferred fancier flavors, ordering half-a-scoop of mint chocolate chip and the other half cookies’n’cream. Once they had their cones well in hand, she gave the server a generous tip and led him outside to a bench that sat four feet back from the curb.
“Now I know why you like this place,” he said, accepting a napkin. “The ice cream’s delicious, and it’s not busy around here, so you can actually enjoy it.”
“Exactly,” she replied.
Feeling comfortable now, Rand sat back and took his time eating. Isabelle had finished by the time he worked his way down to the cone. She got up to throw her wrapper away, and then returned to the bench, looking more solemn than before but trying to act casual. “If you don’t mind my asking, how are you coping with everything? I don’t want you to feel as though any of us are forcing you into this.”
Right, because that’s not how it is at all, he thought, scowling a little. “I’m okay, I guess. Obviously, I didn’t need to find out that I have the power to travel between dimensions, or to get suckered into playing bodyguard to everyone younger than me in my building, but it could be worse. It’s not like anyone’s expected me to like it.”
She gave him a sympathetic smile. “Blame my genetics for that. They like to do as they please.”
“How long has all this been going on, anyway?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“This whole…magic…thing.” He made convoluted wavy motions with his free hand that lost direction when he spied the ice cream beginning to drip down his cone and shifted to deal with it.
Isabelle considered the question. “Centuries, most likely.”
“Most likely?”
“We really don’t know how far back it goes, Rand. There are barely any official records for our reference because our ancestors did not keep them. Most of us only have family stories passed down through the generations to go on.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“As far as we can tell, it’s because they did not want to be persecuted for something they honestly could not help. That’s still the reason we’re careful about whom we tell.”
“Yeah, I guess I can see that. That’s why your organization does what it does, right?”
“Right. We’re investigating all the aspects of magic use that we don’t know about in order to help future users. For example, Molly and Richard’s work over the past several years has determined that it is definitely genetic, and now they are looking into methods of ‘fixing’ the mutation, based on the theory that a suppression is a temporary fix.”
“Thanks for breaking that down into ‘science moron’ terms,” he said, laughing a little. “They’ve tried to explain it before and it all just goes right over my head.” He demonstrated with a hand motion, making her laugh too.
“Science isn’t a strong subject, I take it.”
“I can memorize theories and stuff just fine. Applying them is harder. I did fine, but I’m more comfortable with books.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that. In fact, if you’d be interested, I might have a job for you doing archiving and other organizational work in a year or so.”
He considered it for a moment, unsure whether this was her attempt to find some common ground or to recruit him for her legions of worker drones dedicated to the eventual destruction of Wellingstone, Inc. and all that it stood for. It would probably be an easy way to get internship credit if he needed it, however. “I’ll have to think about that.”
“Certainly. Take your time and let me know.”
Rand nodded and finished his ice cream. “Would you mind if I asked you a couple more questions?”
“Not at all.”
“Mom and Dad said that there haven’t always been alternate realities. How did that happen?”
“It’s a tragic story.” She shifted to get more comfortable on the bench. “One of the few things we know about our history is that some abilities are rare. One of the most rare is time travel. Have your parents explained how active abilities manifest themselves?”
“They show up pretty early, don’t they?”
“Yes. Between the ages of one and five, with few exceptions. Most of the time, depending on the nature of the ability, it takes time and training to control and use.”
Frowning, he opened his mouth to ask where she was going with that, but then her meaning clicked in his head and he felt a chill spread through his chest. “Some poor kid who could time travel did it without meaning to.”
She nodded. “At least twice before he was old enough to figure out what he was doing, and he was unable to go back because he did not know when or where to go.” Rand stared at her in horrified silence, which she took as permission to continue. “There was one other time traveler, that we know of, who was adopted by a wonderful family and stopped using his ability once he figured out how to control it. The one who caused the reality splits did not accept his fate nearly that easily, however. He became consumed with guilt and spent years of his own personal timeline trying to find his birth family to let them know that he was alive. By doing this, he changed many small things that led to large differences and caused the schisms.”
“That is seriously fu-screwed up,” Rand said, feeling his face go red at the near slip.
Isabelle did not acknowledge it aside from a small smile and slight headshake. “Yes, it is, and it’s had consequences for everyone.”
“The universe isn’t going to, like, suddenly collapse or explode or something because of this, will it?” It was a legitimate fear, but he still felt ashamed of how small he sounded.
“That remains to be seen. So far, we believe it’s fixable and that the problem is, in fact, trying to fix itself. We will just have to see how this plays out.”
She did not sound totally sure, but Rand did not see any reason to belabor the point, so he only nodded and got up to throw the napkins in the bin. Once he had done that, he found himself at a loss as to what to do next. His hands found their way back to his pockets as he stared down at the pavement.
An uncertain hand touched his shoulder, and he glanced back, immediately frowning. Isabelle’s obvious concern startled him. “I’m sorry that I can’t give you a better answer than that,” she said, suddenly the woman who had given birth to him instead of the woman who had ruined his life.
“It’s not your fault,” he said. “It doesn’t sound like there’s much anyone can do about it right now.”
She nodded and let her hand drop. “Shall we head back?”
“Yeah, let’s do it.”
He fell into step with her, and they walked a few paces in silence. Just as his fingers began to itch for the book waiting for him at the house, she spoke again. “You know, I’ve been anxious to hear about your friends.”
Rand let out a half-wild laugh. “You mean the monsters that live in my building?”
“Surely they’re not that bad,” she said, grinning.
“Haven’t my parents told you anything?”
“Molly and Richard have other concerns besides them, and I’m sure you know them all better regardless.”
“Ha, well, they’re just…indescribable, really, but I guess I could try.”
“Take your time. There’s plenty of it.”
Story: Shifts universe (post-Tremors)
Challenge: Chocolate 26 (nostalgia), Pistachio 8 (storytelling)
Toppings: Rainbow Sprinkles (Rand and Isabelle), Butterscotch (the history of magic use, why there are alternate realities, and a smidgen of Isabelle’s personal history)
Word Count: 1,852
Rating: PG
Summary: Rand and Isabelle bond over history.
Notes: I visualize this taking place during a trip Molly, Richard, and Rand took especially so Rand could meet Isabelle and Michael (which I started writing the beginning of before I decided I hated it and scrapped it, but you get this conversation and possibly one other because I want to write them anyway).
“Rand, do you like ice cream?”
He glanced up, closing his book around his finger to mark the place. “Who doesn’t?”
Isabelle smiled genuinely for the first time since he had met her. “For all I know, you could be lactose intolerant.”
“I’m definitely not lactose intolerant.”
“Would you like to take a walk with me to get some, then? My treat.”
“Yeah, sure.” He found a bookmark, tucked it into the book, and laid the book on the end table. “Where are we going?”
“There’s a nice little place I like, two blocks away.”
“Awesome.” Tucking his hands into his pockets, he followed her out the door.
Outside, a brilliant summer day reigned, and Rand made a face. He had spent so much of the past few days indoors that it had almost seemed as though there was no existence outside the four walls of Isabelle’s condo. Yet there it was, continuing as normal. He almost hated it. “How long have you and Michael lived here?”
“We bought this condo when we first married,” Isabelle said, glancing back at it fondly. “That was almost thirty years ago.”
“Really? You kept it all that time?”
She nodded. “These days, we’ve been splitting our time between this place and the mansion. I inherited it when my parents died, as Abraham had the compound by then and it was much too far out of the way to be any use to him.”
“He could have sold it.”
“My parents, and his, wanted it in the hands of someone who would keep it.”
“Why would you keep this house, then?”
“The mansion isn’t close enough to town for Michael’s job, or mine really.”
He shrugged, seeing the sense in it. Clearly, they could afford it, another thing that struck a chord within him. He had known that Isabelle and Michael were well off-Michael’s journalism career and Isabelle’s investments in real estate had both been enormously successful, and his mother had told him all about the financial support they had given that magic organization over the years. It was another thing to hear Isabelle talk about it so casually. Rand could not imagine living like that.
“Your parents tell me that you plan to major in History,” she said, after a few moments of silence.
“With a focus on American, yeah.”
“Where are you planning to get your degree?”
“I don’t know yet. I enrolled at the community college and I’ll transfer somewhere in two years.” It’s not because of money, so don’t ask, he added silently, almost daring her to. She did not, barely batting an eyelash when he glanced at her. “Did you go to college?”
“I went to Princeton,” she said, with a smile.
“How was that?”
“I enjoyed it, and got an excellent education that’s served me well. That’s also where I met Michael, which is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
That had been obvious from the start. Rand had not realized that any couple could be sappier than his own parents were, but Isabelle and Michael had proved him wrong, and how. He almost hoped the man would be late for dinner, to cut down on the time he had to spend watching it.
They reached the little ice cream shop, and Isabelle told him that he could order whatever he liked, so he treated himself to a double-scoop of vanilla in a waffle cone instead of his usual bowl. It turned out that she also liked waffle cones, but preferred fancier flavors, ordering half-a-scoop of mint chocolate chip and the other half cookies’n’cream. Once they had their cones well in hand, she gave the server a generous tip and led him outside to a bench that sat four feet back from the curb.
“Now I know why you like this place,” he said, accepting a napkin. “The ice cream’s delicious, and it’s not busy around here, so you can actually enjoy it.”
“Exactly,” she replied.
Feeling comfortable now, Rand sat back and took his time eating. Isabelle had finished by the time he worked his way down to the cone. She got up to throw her wrapper away, and then returned to the bench, looking more solemn than before but trying to act casual. “If you don’t mind my asking, how are you coping with everything? I don’t want you to feel as though any of us are forcing you into this.”
Right, because that’s not how it is at all, he thought, scowling a little. “I’m okay, I guess. Obviously, I didn’t need to find out that I have the power to travel between dimensions, or to get suckered into playing bodyguard to everyone younger than me in my building, but it could be worse. It’s not like anyone’s expected me to like it.”
She gave him a sympathetic smile. “Blame my genetics for that. They like to do as they please.”
“How long has all this been going on, anyway?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“This whole…magic…thing.” He made convoluted wavy motions with his free hand that lost direction when he spied the ice cream beginning to drip down his cone and shifted to deal with it.
Isabelle considered the question. “Centuries, most likely.”
“Most likely?”
“We really don’t know how far back it goes, Rand. There are barely any official records for our reference because our ancestors did not keep them. Most of us only have family stories passed down through the generations to go on.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“As far as we can tell, it’s because they did not want to be persecuted for something they honestly could not help. That’s still the reason we’re careful about whom we tell.”
“Yeah, I guess I can see that. That’s why your organization does what it does, right?”
“Right. We’re investigating all the aspects of magic use that we don’t know about in order to help future users. For example, Molly and Richard’s work over the past several years has determined that it is definitely genetic, and now they are looking into methods of ‘fixing’ the mutation, based on the theory that a suppression is a temporary fix.”
“Thanks for breaking that down into ‘science moron’ terms,” he said, laughing a little. “They’ve tried to explain it before and it all just goes right over my head.” He demonstrated with a hand motion, making her laugh too.
“Science isn’t a strong subject, I take it.”
“I can memorize theories and stuff just fine. Applying them is harder. I did fine, but I’m more comfortable with books.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that. In fact, if you’d be interested, I might have a job for you doing archiving and other organizational work in a year or so.”
He considered it for a moment, unsure whether this was her attempt to find some common ground or to recruit him for her legions of worker drones dedicated to the eventual destruction of Wellingstone, Inc. and all that it stood for. It would probably be an easy way to get internship credit if he needed it, however. “I’ll have to think about that.”
“Certainly. Take your time and let me know.”
Rand nodded and finished his ice cream. “Would you mind if I asked you a couple more questions?”
“Not at all.”
“Mom and Dad said that there haven’t always been alternate realities. How did that happen?”
“It’s a tragic story.” She shifted to get more comfortable on the bench. “One of the few things we know about our history is that some abilities are rare. One of the most rare is time travel. Have your parents explained how active abilities manifest themselves?”
“They show up pretty early, don’t they?”
“Yes. Between the ages of one and five, with few exceptions. Most of the time, depending on the nature of the ability, it takes time and training to control and use.”
Frowning, he opened his mouth to ask where she was going with that, but then her meaning clicked in his head and he felt a chill spread through his chest. “Some poor kid who could time travel did it without meaning to.”
She nodded. “At least twice before he was old enough to figure out what he was doing, and he was unable to go back because he did not know when or where to go.” Rand stared at her in horrified silence, which she took as permission to continue. “There was one other time traveler, that we know of, who was adopted by a wonderful family and stopped using his ability once he figured out how to control it. The one who caused the reality splits did not accept his fate nearly that easily, however. He became consumed with guilt and spent years of his own personal timeline trying to find his birth family to let them know that he was alive. By doing this, he changed many small things that led to large differences and caused the schisms.”
“That is seriously fu-screwed up,” Rand said, feeling his face go red at the near slip.
Isabelle did not acknowledge it aside from a small smile and slight headshake. “Yes, it is, and it’s had consequences for everyone.”
“The universe isn’t going to, like, suddenly collapse or explode or something because of this, will it?” It was a legitimate fear, but he still felt ashamed of how small he sounded.
“That remains to be seen. So far, we believe it’s fixable and that the problem is, in fact, trying to fix itself. We will just have to see how this plays out.”
She did not sound totally sure, but Rand did not see any reason to belabor the point, so he only nodded and got up to throw the napkins in the bin. Once he had done that, he found himself at a loss as to what to do next. His hands found their way back to his pockets as he stared down at the pavement.
An uncertain hand touched his shoulder, and he glanced back, immediately frowning. Isabelle’s obvious concern startled him. “I’m sorry that I can’t give you a better answer than that,” she said, suddenly the woman who had given birth to him instead of the woman who had ruined his life.
“It’s not your fault,” he said. “It doesn’t sound like there’s much anyone can do about it right now.”
She nodded and let her hand drop. “Shall we head back?”
“Yeah, let’s do it.”
He fell into step with her, and they walked a few paces in silence. Just as his fingers began to itch for the book waiting for him at the house, she spoke again. “You know, I’ve been anxious to hear about your friends.”
Rand let out a half-wild laugh. “You mean the monsters that live in my building?”
“Surely they’re not that bad,” she said, grinning.
“Haven’t my parents told you anything?”
“Molly and Richard have other concerns besides them, and I’m sure you know them all better regardless.”
“Ha, well, they’re just…indescribable, really, but I guess I could try.”
“Take your time. There’s plenty of it.”