Alone...

Empty.

The air was filled with birdsong, voices of people and animals, and the ubiquitous sounds of the Tower broadcasts. But the man on the bench in an isolated corner of City Park listened within himself, and heard only silence.

As a child he called, and listened in confidence for an answer. He called in curiosity, in frustration, anger and sorrow, a thousand thousand times, but received no reply. He grew up in a constant state of anxious waiting, while his friends chatted, fought, played, loved and learned with their others. The only voices were the overheard murmurs of his parents and siblings, as they attempted to convince themselves of anything other than the truth.

They're there. He's just gotten isolated at the front, that's all. We had the same thing happen to our main front when we were his age. They came round.

Maybe communication's been cut off. Maybe that hernia operation when he was a baby... maybe it damaged something.

In my class, the boy who sits next to me, there's only two of them, and he says the other one only comes out front at summer vacation when they go to the mountains. And the rest of the time that one stays inside, they hardly ever talk to each other. Maybe it's like that.

Anything other than the bare fact. There were no others. There was only Lionel.

Or even less than that; with only a fraction of a soul, just enough to keep him moving and breathing. Maybe he didn't exist at all. The doctors who'd examined him were gentle, but couldn't play down their avid interest. Singlets weren't unheard of, but were so rare that even the kindest professional couldn't resist a bit of research.

["... is permissible as long as there is a rational basis for it, like cost..."]

Oh, shut up. Sometimes he pretended the voices of the Tower broadcasts were the voices of his others, responding to them aloud. For a while he'd made up people. Used characters from books or movies. Clung to the hope that one of these might become real for him, the way they did for others.. he'd even heard of singlets who'd flowered into plurality this way, like a blessing.

Nothing. Blank. Dead.

What about that theory going around that singularity was a response to traumatic childhood events, causing isolation, communication failure or the deaths of all but one system member? This idea was circulating like mad on the airways, especially the broadcasts from the North Tower. It would explain why singlets behaved irrationally. It might even influence judges to impose more lenient sentences on criminals who used a singularity defense.

["Single personality disorder! Does it exist? Can they live normal lives? Next, on Lamar!"]

A magazine article had been published by one of Lionel's therapists, who'd gained a bit of notoriety for even acknowledging that true singularity could exist. It did not, of course, refer to Lionel by name, but he was sure everyone in Veritas who'd read it knew that it was about him.

He was one of the very few out singlets in the city, which didn't make it easy to find work. His current employer(s) professed lack of prejudice, but their concern was understandable, with all the stupid myths. He'd never forget the day he'd been turned down for a teaching position at a local high school, on the grounds that "singlets are often prone to emotional distress, and if you had a breakdown, there'd be no one to take over for you. It'd set a terrible example for the kids. You do understand, Mr. Seaberg...?"

He'd never forget Naomi's reaction, either. Five years older than himself, a forthright girl in a strong young male body, she and her people had been his closest friends and allies through years of shame. She'd raged through the house like a thunderstorm. "Emotional distress! That bastard. Why doesn't he just admit he saw that stupid Emmeline on 23 the other night and it scared the crap out of him? I'll give him emotional distress...." By the time she and her colleague Kyle (himself a teacher) actually spoke with the school superintendent, she was much calmer, but it did no good.

At twenty-three, he still called. His next-to-latest therapist had recommended imagery: he could easily visualise candles, beacons, flags, anything to signal to others that he was there. Nothing worked, but he kept it up, although the current therapist advised him gently that if he were truly a singlet, and functioning well that way, he need not worry; why not simply live single and enjoy it? Singlets were believed to have a natural ability to focus more easily on one thing at a time, so might be more creative or productive than a group in some situations. There were even reports that because of the lack of distraction from others, singlets could process information more quickly and appear to be more intelligent than many plurals. Rosalind Green's preposterous claims aside, there were advantages to being alone.

He'd have given them all up in an instant for the feeling of another mind touching his.

Astraea
John Smith, Laurem^Gabriel, Laurem^Andy
Thursday, March 27, 2008 1:19:50 AM
Thursday, April 17, 2008 8:31:45 PM

"Does it make more sense now?"

"Yes," John said thoughtfully, "a lot of things just fell into place all of a sudden. That's why people seem to be talking to themselves, and why the woman at the hotel talked the way she did, and the changing name badges, and the -- why don't you wear one?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You're the first person -- people -- I've seen who don't have one of those flashing badges."

Andy laughed softly. "It isn't as if they were required. We don't live in the city, and we don't see a reason to be after identifying ourselves every blessed minute. That's the short answer."

"What's the long one?" John smiled a little.

"Political, and complicated. If you like I'll explain it later, or I'll get our Jay to. He'll have a fine time explaining the Inner and Outer Wings to you."

"Is he -- "

"What?" The Midwesterner was back, gently disconcerted. "Oh, good Lord, no. Where's my manners? Gabe Ragland." He reached across the table and shook John's hand firmly.

John smiled. "How do you do. So you're... Gabe and Andy. And -- Jay? How many are... how..."

"Thousands," Andy smiled back. Then, seeing John's expression, "But not all at the same time."

Andy and Gabe sat back, sipped at their coffee and regarded John in silence for a time.

Finally Andy spoke. "What puzzles me is how could you not know."

John regarded the dregs of his cup. "I don't know anything. What I mean is, I don't seem to have any memory past this morning. Everything I was, everything I am is -- lost." His hands hugged the cup again. "It's gone. I haven't a clue where I am or even what my name is."

He sighed. "I feel as if I don't belong -- here."

The steady look again -- Gabe. "Where do you belong, then?"

"That's just it -- I don't know. I'd like to find out. The clerk this morning at the hotel said I was on the register as John Smith, but I don't know if that's my real name. She seemed to think it wasn't."

"You stayed at the Claremont? The hotel around the corner here."

"Yes, and that same clerk was here not too long ago -- but she was with someone, and I didn't feel like interrupting her to ask her a lot of..."

"Let's go. You can ask them to go back through the hotel register, find out when you checked in."

John rose from his seat as they did, then wavered a bit. "Oh -- I don't know. It's awfully confusing out there. Maybe it seems normal to you -- to you all --, but I -- all that noise, all those voices all talking at once."

"D'you mean to say you can hear that?" Andy said. "The transmissions?"

"Well -- yes, if that's what all that -- that chaos is out there. Can't you hear it?"

"Oh, dear, no, not unless we're wearing audio plugs," Andy said. "Look. Why don't I tune ours to a null frequency and give them to you for now. That way, you won't hear anything you don't wish to."

Gabe mumbled something as if to himself, but John heard him. "That'd drive me straight up a wall. How in the sam hill can he..."

Andy murmured, "We'll find out in good time. Let's pay up and be off."

Rhymers
Rhymers^Traye, Haies and Matthew
Friday, April 18, 2008 12:02:03 AM

Traye Lawson stretched backward in his seat and cracked his knuckles. It had been one very, very long day. The fact that it was his first day on the job really hadn't helped any. And doing research to see what kind of features on singlets to include in future broadcasts had made his head pound.

His left forefinger was tingling from running across the tactile Braille display for hours, and his mind was stuffed full of terms like "Singular Personality Disorder" and assorted nonsense myths about singlets that he no more believed than he believed that the sky was purple.

Traye chuckled wryly. As far as he knew without using the body's eyes, that could very well be.

God -- he needed coffee.

Coffee? Matthew's voice whispered from somewhere near front. Traye could almost imagine his ears pricking up in expectation.

We can't, Traye answered, clicking the web link for "Smooshed Souls' Sanctuary of Separation". Won't Mr. Johnson& be mad at us?

Our shift is technically over. Matthew reasoned.

But Matthew -- Traye argued, Just a little more research. Just a few more minutes.

It can wait. Trust me. You NEED coffee.

Okay, okay, grumbled Traye, rising to his feet and stretching again, Are we walking or taking the bus?

Walking, I suppose. Matthew replied.

May I front? asked Haies in Cartaali, appearing alongside Traye.

Sure. I don't like fronting while we're moving. It gives me the heebie jeebies.

Slowly Traye stepped back, leaving the front behind. Haies stepped into his spot smoothly. As he passed the closed glass door of someone's office, Haies took a good long look at himself. It wasn't only his body of course. But it looked most like him. The hair was the same color and length as his. The eyes were a very dark brown as opposed to his which seemed to change colors randomly, and the skin was about five or six shades lighter. Also the body had a more muscular build as opposed to his lithe, graceful one, but other than those differences it could've been his alone.

Haies was so lost in thought that the walk to the coffee-shop seemed like it took only a few seconds as opposed to the ten or twelve minutes it most likely took. Haies opened the door and slid into the Liberty Cafe. Traye, on smelling coffee, instantly slid in beside him.

Mmmmm coffeeee! murmured Traye, Food of the gods.

I have never known a god to drink coffee! replied Haies as he glanced sidelong at Traye.

Where have you met a god?

Traye giggled in spite of himself and Haies's laughter answered him, deep and full and rich. A smile had crept onto the body's face, but neither of the two gentlemen were aware of it. They were also not aware that their walk had changed slightly with Traye's influence. They slowed down just a bit, becoming a little more cautious...Not cautious enough however to avoid almost slamming into someone who was heading out the door.

"Whoa! Steady there. Y'all right?"

The man had a deep voice, with a strong Midwestern twang. Traye glanced out through the body's eyes. He blinked in surprise as he saw the Native American gentleman they'd almost plowed down.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to run into you. If I hadn't been talking to Haies I'd have noticed you. Forgive me."

Friday, April 18, 2008 12:16:20 AM

Amid mutual apologies, Gabe spoke again. "Wait. Don't we know you?"

"Rhymers' House, at your service. I'm Traye and Haies is with me."

Andy jumped in before Gabe could answer. "You'd be the new group that's taken over the East Tower broadcasts, then?"

Traye smiled at that. "We are."

"Andy Temple, House Laurem. I sat up and listened to you last night. I liked it very much. And this is Gabe with me, and this is..." he indicated a confused-looking man just behind him, "John Smith, though he isn't at all sure that's his name." Andy lowered his voice slightly. "You'll be interested, Traye. He's apparently a singlet."

Sat, 19 Apr 2008 02:20:19 -0500

Traye leaned forward, listening intently. Here was a chance for him to find out what features would better suit a singlet. Also, it was also a chance to make new friends. Andy and Gabe seemed like pleasant fellows, the kind of people who would put him at ease.

"Really?" he asked, smiling widely at Mr. Smith, "I'm very pleased to meet you."

"As am I." added Haies in very thickly accented English as he slipped into the direct forward position long enough to bow respectfully to Andy, Gabe and John. The waitress whisked past them, her tag now reading Stevie | Lauren, and Traye ordered a coffee to go.

"How do you do," Mr. Smith said softly. "It's all new to me."

"For us also," Haies said, "we have just this week come to the city from Richfield. We're on our way now to the Claremont," he added, "where we're staying till we can find a permanent place to live."

Monday, April 21, 2008 11:05:37 AM

"That's where we're bound," Gabe said, "John stayed there last night."

"Yeah, everything else seems to have dropped right out," Andy added, "he says he can't remember a thing."

Haies looked at John again. "Amnesia?"

John hunched his shoulders. "I suppose so. If I am one of you, I don't know it -- but I have a feeling that I'm not."

21:32 8/15/2009

They left the Liberty and walked together around the corner to the Claremont. Just before they went inside, Gabe stopped and looked at John with a slight smile.

"Better, ain't it?"

"It's amazing! I don't hear a thing -- except ordinary street sounds. How do these ear things work?"

"I'm not sure. But they come from our world. We've had them there for about forty years. Along about twelve years ago the same Aurean technician who had invented them started fronting here in this world -- her name's Jouaiea something -- and now there is no place that does not have them. Revolutionized communication technology. Again. We need a shakeup like that ever so often," he concluded, more to himself than to John, as they opened the door and entered the Claremont.

The lobby still smelled of furniture polish, clean leather and the fresh flowers in the vases on the tables. A young, neatly dressed black man was in charge, the video screen was turned off and lively swing music was playing from a little clock radio. John was not too surprised to see that the clerk's badge read "Jennifer".

Haies -- it had to be, from the voice and manner -- stepped up to the desk and said "Good afternoon. May we have our mail, please? Room 206."

Jennifer handed him a few letters and a small parcel, then turned to John and smiled. "Welcome to the Claremont. What can I do for you?"

Andy and Gabriel simply looked at John, clearly expecting him to take the lead. He cleared his throat. "I, uh -- stayed here last night. At least, I woke up in --"

Jennifer smiled understandingly. "It's happened to lots of people. Do you remember the name you were registered under?"

"John Smith. She said group of... and something about a party that came with me."

Jennifer was flipping through the registry. "Guess everyone gave you a pretty wild night, hm?"

"That's -- just what she said! But ... I'm starting to understand things now. You -- everyone here -- you don't have just one mind, one consciousness, but many, you coexist with many others all in the same brain, the same body. But I don't. There's no one sharing my body. There's no one here but me."

Jennifer was listening intently. "Are you saying you're like that woman on TV? Like Emmeline?"

From nearby, Andy spoke up, sounding a bit more heavily Irish than usual. "He doesn't know who Emmeline is, and that movie's a lot of hash."

"Oh, surely. But she did live her life as just one person."

John looked at Andy. "Emmeline."

"Is it something?"

"I -- think I knew her."

Rhymers, 22:44 8/15/2009

And suddenly, as the Rhymers' front was wont to do, it snagged Traye and Haies. And suddenly it was Exe and Jack in their places.

"Oh god," muttered Exe, "Do you think that Emmeline tripe is really true? I mean, I don't doubt that she lived...But that movie's so played up it's ridiculous. And the book's worse. Kept going into such vivid detail about her horrible abuse. Grrr."

"I agree," confessed Jennifer, leaning over the desk, "It's terrible. I -- um -- personally believe singlets have as much rights as everyone else does. They're not freakish. Just people..."

It was Jack who suddenly caught what John had said. He turned and looked at the singlet, forcing down his shyness.

"Excuse me," he said very very politely, "But did you just say you believe you knew Emmeline?" He said it very very very softly, so neither Jennifer nor anyone else in the lobby would hear him.

Astraea, Saturday, August 15, 2009 11:11 pm

John, eyes closed, barely breathing, tried to catch the fleeting bit of memory. "I think so... she... She was a teacher. She wrote several books. She had to use another name."

Jennifer looked up from the registry. "Ah. Found you. John Smith, you were registered as the John Smith group, room 606, two days ago. Paid in advance by unit card... in the name of Dr. Beth Darren."

John looked up. "That doesn't ring any bells at all."

"Darren," Andy muttered, too softly for anyone but Gabe to hear. "That's it."

John looked at the registry. It was his handwriting, all right, but that was all he could recognize. "Have you rented out the room yet?"

"No, it's open. Want to take a look?"

"Yes. I was sure I didn't leave anything behind that belonged to me, but..."

Jennifer tapped a bell next to her on the counter. A middle-aged Puerto Rican lady in a neat black and white uniform soon appeared; her badge read "Casa de Joyas/???"

"Joyas, would you all take these folks up to room 606, please, and let them look around?"

But there didn't seem to be anything. The room was just as he had left it, except that things had been cleaned and straightened. If there had been anything in the wastebasket, it was gone now.

"Don't mean there's nothing here to find," Gabe said, sitting in one of the two lounge chairs. "Sometime's stuff's where you least expect."

John agreed. "What about phone calls? Room service? Did I have any visitors?"

There was no record of any of that, but Jennifer was encouraging. "I've seen lots of people lose track. No idea who they are or where they're from. Right now Joyas are going through that. Whoever's running that body knows the job, but doesn't have a clue who they are. I've never met a single person before, but it must be the same for you. You're not that different. Just nobody with you to help you keep track of things. We don't have to handle things like that on our own. But neither do you. You don't have anybody inside, but there's plenty of people outside. You've got good friends there."

Rhymers, Sunday, August 16, 2009 8:11 PM

Exe peered shyly out of the body's eyes and actually smiled at John. Inwardly he was a little worried that his smile wouldn't seem genuine enough but then shoved that thought down. Just because his first dealings with humanity in general had been bad ones didn't mean that all his dealings with humanity had to be.

"We'd be glad to be your friends," he told John, "You seem like a nice person. And believe me, there're people here who have had no idea how they got here. You're not crazy, as much as you feel like you might be right now."

Jack peered over Exe's shoulder, taking in the lobby and everything else around him. Thoughts were percolating rapidly in his head. John had had no room service, no visitors, no phone calls. Didn't most people have that sort of thing in hotels? Now it was Jack's turn to scratch the body's head, rather puzzled. He'd heard the name Beth Darren somewhere but he just couldn't put a finger on it and searching common brought up only a vague fuzzy memory, with no essence attached, of watching an episode of Lamar which had had a title something like "Help! My Child Is Singlet!" and there seemed to have been a Beth Darren as the expert on the subject. But of course Jack didn't say anything. He could be wrong and he wanted to think on it just a bit more.

Laurem, Sunday, August 16, 2009 8:12 PM:

"Beth Darren," Andy muttered again, straight-arming the door and stalking out. "That's what this is about. Bloody do-gooder gloryhound."

John was right behind him. "What? Is that why I don't remember her? Is this tied in with my being just one person?"

Rhymers, Monday, August 17, 2009 11:23 pm

"Wait!" called Jack, as he and Exe darted after Andy and Gabe, "Where're you going?"

Laurem, Monday, August 17, 2009 11:24 pm

Once back out on the sidewalk, Andy slowed down and took a deep breath. The next voice they heard was Gabe's.

"He's going some place where he can sit down and relax and breathe and think this over before he blows a gasket. And we're going to tell John who Dr. Darren is, since he's having trouble remembering." He moved back toward the corner, where the intersection led to the park.

John kept pace with Gabe, shaking his head. "There are things beginning to come back to me. I'm remembering -- but nothing about her, and nothing about anything recent."

Jack and Exe caught up. Jack said, "I'm sure I've heard of Beth Darren. I don't know too much about her, but I believe she's supposed to be some kind of expert on singlets and is researching ways to help them."

"Help them be something they're not, you mean," Andy muttered, followed by a soothing "shhh" from Gabe.

"All right, but you have to admit some of her proposed methods are questionable to say the very least."

John was beginning to see how things worked for them; Andy was a bit hot-tempered and impulsive, Gabe was calm-natured and did things slowly. When they ran in tandem, they could balance each other out. He noted that they even walked differently from one another.

They crossed the street -- at least the signal lights were familiar -- and headed into the park, away from the traffic noise. Near a small fountain were a couple of wide, cushioned benches. They sat in silence for a while, listening to the water.

"That's better," Jack said.

"Us too," Gabe sighed. "How about you, John?"

"It's fine. I'm sure I've never been here before." He looked around, then back at Gabe. "I'm beginning to think that a lot of what is unfamiliar to me isn't just that my memory's gone. It's that I've never been in this city."

"That sounds like Betsy Wetsy's work, too," Andy said, sneering a little.

"What?" John laughed, and the Rhymers joined in.

"I shouldn't call her that, I know she means well, but she really does think she's on a mission from God to bring light to the poor benighted heathen singlets."

"Just don't call her that on any broadcasts," Gabe muttered. "I sure would like to get her in for an interview. John, what does seem familiar?"

John looked around again, thought back. "Well, a lot of -- little things. I recognized the music in the cafe. I heard musicians I'm familiar with, although a lot of the songs were new to me. And while I was sitting in there having coffee, I thought about being in college, when I tried LSD with some friends. I remembered how I enjoyed it, but I got tired of tripping after a while. I was feeling the same way this morning."

Rhymers, Tuesday, August 25, 2009 8:13 AM:

Slowly, Exe drew back a bit from the conversation, focusing his mind a little more inward. Jack had left front, he noticed with a small shock, either left or been kicked out. Knowing their front though it was most likely the latter. This left Exe alone with John, Gabe and Andy. He didn't really mind. After all, they were nice enough fellows. But he just wished he had more knowledge of what they were discussing. He wished he had paid more attention to what Traye was researching earlier. Where was Traye anyhow?

Traye? he called. But there was no answer. Traye was either sleeping, which was unlikely, out of communications range which was possible or more than likely blocked from communications by their front. Sighing, Exe mentally wrapped his wings around himself and wracked his brain for any knowledge he had on singlets. He found almost nothing except the knowledge Traye'd left in common. But it wasn't nearly enough to make sense of this Beth Darren person.

There was a presence beside him suddenly, a faint tang in his thoughts that wasn't his, a familiar enough feeling really. And he recognized that essence trace.

Jiang?

There was the mental equivalent of a nod before he found their hand moving deep into their pocket, searching out a notebook and pen. And Exe relaxed. Communications were definitely going a little screwy, probably due to nerves, stress and a number of other factors. Besides, nothing in their system was ever really that certain.

The body's hand moved across the page at lightning speed, leaving Jiang's small cramped handwriting behind. She was leaving him a note.

Exe, If you need me to take front, I will. I know a bit about what they are discussing as I was watching Traye's research this afternoon. You can step back and watch if you want, I mean if you want me to take front at all.

He smiled, half relieved. He was actually more comfortable with a co-present listening a lot of the time -- especially around other-bodied people who were new to him.

And slowly, very slowly, the beautiful Asian woman flowed past him. For a moment the lines between the two of them blurred uncomfortably and then she was there.

Jiang Tsau shook the hair back off her shoulders and listened closely to the discussion at hand. Beth Darren. Hadn't Traye ran across something about Beth Darren? She combed through common memory, like Exe finding nothing. The memories hadn't quite gotten there yet. So she handed off her knowledge to the nearest midfronter to be put in.

Midfronters were an interesting bunch of people. They were people who were perfectly capable of fronting and were aware of the front, but for whatever reason did not do so. They did, however, help the front staff out by making sure that messages got relayed in bad communication times, by making sure that memories made it into common memory, and by sometimes just being there for moral support.

Could you please find Traye? asked Jiang respectfully, And remind him he didn't put his research into common memory?

The midfronter simply nodded and walked off to do as sa had been asked. Finding Traye wouldn't be that hard. He was probably in Shater's Coffee-shop back on the homeworld, sucking down the house special from a mug the size of a soup bowl.

"I think I might know a bit about Beth Darren," Jiang ventured aloud to her bench companions, "I was watching Traye do research this afternoon. There were a good many references to a Beth Darren. If I am not entirely mistaken, and the rumours are correct, she and her system have been hanging around the online singulicity community. Confidentially, I don't understand how either the singlets or her own system stand her. Um my name is Jiang Tsau by the way."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," smiled John as Jiang shook hands all around.

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