Rachel
Long sigh. I don’t really know why I bother with this any more. I think I’m more ghost than human at this point. Pause, she is looking through her hand onto the porch below. I can still interact with the world, but no one really seems to notice me. Jade seemed happy the second she saw me last weekend. They said something aboutbeing glad I’m feeling better, but then... stopped. I think Blue found the note. I’m 95% sure they lied about nothing being real. Asshole.
They’re still coming around. Bring up letters to the house when I don’t feel like doing it myself. I usually don’t feel like doing it myself. No threats recently though. They’ve been staring a lot more when they swing by, it’s like they’re looking right through-- well, everyone looks right through me. It’s more like they’re looking into me, searching for something. I don’t know what it is but I doubt it’s there. They’ve been calling me Rachel more too, instead of R or whatever the number is or Georgia-with-a-sneer. I could almost consider that progress.
Doesn’t fix the house though. Whatever reading the letters does, Blue can do it too, it’s like some kind of… particle shuffle or door opening. Gideon actually called them that- Door Makers or something. I think. I only had the one chance to read the letter before it vanished. The couch is stable enough to use again, although if I fall asleep on it I’ll get sick, but the basement now opens up into a void. It’s beautiful- ocean teal and starry and pitch black all at the same time like I’m looking through three different kaleidoscopes simultaneously. I’m sure the county house inspector would have an aneurism if he saw it.
I’ve taken to throwing the trash into it. Mostly spite with a chance of genuine need. It’s the only reliable way to dispose of it as the dump truck doesn’t stop at my driveway anymore. You’d think that whatever is restocking my fridge would bring compostable or some kind of other environmentally friendly stuff. But nope, cheap-o grocery store fare. Basics, at least. I can go into town these days by bike but it’s exhausting and usually little more than an exercise in having existential crisis’. I am a ghost living in my own life and wearing a mask of someone else’s face.
I have a few more letters today, one from Quinn. I’m sure it’s not tied to Blue’s mess at all, but I still kinda don’t want to open it up. Seems like nothing but a waste of time. Just another person… thing… whatever, telling me I’m going to die and that Georgia was a 100% certified bitch.
Paper rustling. Oh man. Sigh. It’s in elvish. Sandarin, I think. Give me a minute. Recorder clicks off and then on. Suilad and something about… Spain… I think? Is all I can make out. Andy would love this. I know he’s been teaching Liam a little bit for fun. We all used to be able to write it in college, would leave notes around when we didn’t want Grandma Ethel to read something of Jessica’s. Andy learned what he could speaking though. I might… since I technically can’t read this. I am going to copy it onto a scrap of paper to try and send through the mail for him to translate for me.
I…. I should probably stop hating him. Looking back, we were still mostly kids….
That can happen later.
The next one here is a box actually, just a sec… Sounds of recorder being set down, frustrated package and tape tearing.
Here we go, plastic wrap coming out, something heavy falls. Oh, it’s just a … one of those metal and string puzzles. Umm… No note or anything. Hmm. In the spirit of having read too many Clive Barker books I’m just going to leave this… grunts, the smack of something hitting a wooden beam. Over there. If it shows up again it goes in the trash portal and whoever is on the other side can deal with it.
Last non-Quinn letter is a postcard from Athens, and…. It looks like it’s just a recipe for--- looks like some kind of pressure cooker bean dish. It’s scrawled in a thin pen… BEANS. 1 cup of beans, ½ onion parentheses small in pieces, 2 - 3 carrots and some celery, ½ cup of olive oil (I think that’s how you really know something is authentic Greek…) salt, pepper, tomato paste- no amount. Ummm, I’m just going to paraphrase- soak the beans for 12 hours, drain, then bring to a boil for 5 to 10 minutes. Then you put the carrots, onion, celery, salt and pepper into a pressure cooker. Boil for 15 - 20 minutes, then open and add the olive oil, tomato sauce and “perhaps some more salt. Beans are ready when they’re reddish, and they have got plenty of oil. Have a nice appetite.
Yum. Is this like the puzzle toy, if I make it will I unleash… unleash another hell hole?
Does it even matter at this point? I’m not sure I… well, wait, hold on. Stuff being set on the porch. Would ya look at that. I definitely can’t read the addresses through my arm anymore. That’s a … good sign I guess. Do I need to make the beans then? Definitely don’t think I’ve been able to make enough vitamin D the last couple of weeks.
If Blue shows up I’ll ask them. They’ve been more civil lately, but I’ve kept my mouth shut and haven’t been wandering off any more. Rosa’s house is still deserted. I haven’t seen any movement from her garage or garden. Even if she wasn’t real, she was a damn nice spot of company.
Oh well. Quinn.
Here, it’s… a folded up Ceasar’s Pizza receipt in an envelope. Ummm… On the printed side is just written “Raphael” and the back is… absolute gibberish. Sounds defeated, even more than usual. It’s just strings of letters, no real words, no spaces. Some kind of code? Groans.
This has been so. Utterly. Useless. Diane, I’m going to take a nap, then maybe revisit this or burn the house down, I’ll decide when I get up again. Recorder turns off.
BLUE
That was… the stupidest way to have such a revelation, Georgia. I don’t know how you got the idea that going for an Ether swim was a good move but lucky you I was around… babysitting.
It appears some of your memories have returned, although your juice is still watered down. Didn’t expect you were ever capable of picking at the seams of reality though, time… origami for lack of a better term- was more up your alley. Although I suppose for you it’s been more than a few decades, maybe having them suppressed all this time warped something.
I am on your roof right now. You can’t see me. It’s probably for the best, has your roof always been coated in velvet, or is that new? Either way, it’s quite lovely and I can’t seem to stop petting it.
You’ve been staring at the clouds for hours. They aren’t that interesting. Human’s are good at finding worlds where there are none.
A sliver of me feels bad, pulling the rug out from under you like that. Maybe that’s why I’m telling this to your non-friend here. You should probably put some sunscreen on, your nose is looking a bit red.
Is this empathy? Brendan always joked that someday I’d be a real person.
Oh good, you’re moving into the shade. The effects won’t last forever, I promise, a few days at most. With how much you’ve managed to sink into the In Between I couldn’t tell you with certainty how long they’ll last, you really gave me no other option. You only need a cool down period, we can discuss this when you’re back to normal.
Memory work is always tricky. I’ve taken the liberty of stashing some of your belongings to let the shift back be more gradual. Those awful drawings on the fridge for example. I’ve been adding little lines to them, but don’t think you’ve noticed. I get bored here too, you know. Cut off from home. Well, not Home, home, you know? None of us can go back there.
I want to though, so badly. Do you know what it’s like, being reduced to a measly parasite?
No, I suppose not. And it’s not like it matters any more. For either of us. Recorder clicks off.
Recorder flicks on. There is low level background static. Blue is in their bubble of Limbo.
This has been… a week. Or is it two? I’m sorry. There’s been no sign of progress. I might have messed up. Can’t stand watching you sit and stare. Lining up the trinkets in your house and just… looking right through them.
Rachel… I think that really is your name. I should apologize for not listening. You don’t have the stabbing-fierce rage pit of a heart Georgia does. You do look exactly the same though, sound the same, but I suspect that was part of Brendan’s plan, wasn’t it. Swap your places. Sigh. Live a quiet life with a Quiet daughter. I found the letter you decoded from Quinn yesterday, tucked away in your sock drawer. You should wear the silly ones more, you know. They are very fun. Tacos on footwear is genius. If I had actual feet I would wear them. They seem very comfortable and different and expressive… and I am rambling.
I had heard whispers of a faction of ours looking to wreak havoc on human technology. No other planet we have hitched a ride on has been so perceptive, so responsive. We are, you see, somewhat of a hive being. Drops in your metaphorical ocean, separated however briefly, filling out the spaces anchored in the realities of certain planets. We hide there until we can’t, and then we run. I get it, I really do. We are all so tired of running. It would make sense to take over, keep you humans living and breathing and powering us. Your choices and actions are so energizing, with your perception.
But some of you can see us, can sense our presence, and even, like your father and Quinn and Georgia, tap into it. There are institutes devoted to studying us. Treated like conspiracy theorists, but still, they are out there and this is such a precious ledge we are all dancing on.
I get why you thought flinging yourself into the Ether would work. There’s only a small chance it won’t devour you, it should really be zero chance but it seems Brendan was wrong about all of you.
He was so tired, by the end. So desperate.
I’m going to go back, see if you’re still mumbling about rocks in window sills. Recorder clicks off.
Sabrina
Welcome back lovely listeners, this is Sabrina your writer and reader. Thank you for tuning in for this next bit of Letters to Georgia- and just a reminder that this next batch will be released every third Sunday instead of every other for my sanity. If you are enjoying this audio drama, or want to follow along be sure to leave us some reviews and share on the social media of your choice so more folks can find us. You can also drop a couple of bucks on the ko-fi at www dot ko-fi dot com forward slash sabrinalucille if that’s more your style, anything and everything helps. As always scripts are eventually available on the website which is sabrinalucille.com and this link can be found in the show notes. Rachel Bardin and Blue were voiced by Sabrina Green, and music by SAGITTA.
See you on the 4th. Toodles.
