VOICE: KNIGHT OF CUPS.
CHARACTER: SIX OF WANDS.
you unplug your headset with a sigh, stretching to relieve the vague tension of sitting in a chair all day. it’s been another good day for you. the tech is finally up to snuff, and people are taking notice. you might even get the chance to take a break soon, and that, combined with the security from the money now flowing in, seems excellent. you throw on your coat, wave to your employees as you leave, tell them to take the rest of the afternoon off, you all have earned it.
all of the work you’ve put in, you’ve got reason to be proud. in the last year, you’ve gone from nobody to a threat to the status quo for the pharmacies and all the rest of them. the nanotech works and it hasn’t started to eat the planet. you made sure it won’t.
you stuff your hands into your pockets and push your way out of the building, breath frosting in the cool air, even at the height of the day. you’re still getting used to it. thankfully you did have the foresight to invest in a decent bundle of winter clothes.
so you’ll go back to your cushy apartment and kick back, and just for tonight, be content with the good you’ve done. right?
cackling.
even with the work you’ve done, you’ll still lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling. you’re afraid, i think. maybe it’s not enough. the thought bugs you like a bad dream. what if it’s not enough? you never really were clear on what enough might mean, but the thought persists, your mind a tongue coming back to the same empty spot.
and it is with your mind thus occupied that you feel the point of a knife pressed against your back.
“miss. i ain’t gonna mess around and make more threats or anything. i just need your coat. don’t turn around.”
you freeze where you stand and she prods you to keep walking. almost in disbelief, you do. she’s right behind you, keeping her voice firm, but conversational.
“just give it to me and i’ll walk away.”
instead, you take a gamble. you’re not supposed to give in to blackmail. you steel yourself, and break into a sprint before she can react, flying down the sidewalk. if you can make it to the end of the block you’re safe, you can cross traffic or head into a store for a second to keep safe, call someone to come and pick you up. you cant resist a glance over your shoulder, though, and the impulse stops you dead in your tracks.
it’s you.
you blink in confusion, slowing. she’s haggard and rail-thin, and ashen with cold, but it’s your face, the one you see in the mirror every day, and in that moment you see what what you know you’ve worn through every hurt and every tragedy you’ve pushed through. the mask is stoic, but you can see her hope just wither and die, right there.
you stop. so does she. she doesn’t seem to recognise you. it doesn’t really matter. you walk back, anyway, pulling your coat off. the air bites your skin, you feel the sore spot at the small of your back give a throb. she takes it from you, a flash of disgust showing.
“i use the knife to avoid that look you’re giving me right now, y’know. the fucking pity.”
“…it’s- it’s not pity. look, do you-”
“it’s not pity? yeah, right. obviously. of course it’s pity. you and all the rest of the clowns like you step past me and mine like shit you scraped off the bottom of your shoe, unless you look and think- oh, well, of course she doesn’t belong there, she’s just had a bad break, she could turn her life around and be a good little slave, and in my infinite fucking benev-”
“come back to my house and warm yourself up?”
you’re not sure why you say it, but it just comes out.
“huh?”
“i mean it. you want a place to crash for a couple of nights?”
“…again, with the fucking chari-” you see her bite her lip, considering. the wind doesn’t help her decision- she snatches the coat from your hand and puts it on, abruptly.
“…i never ever would do this normally. i’ve got folks looking after me. but it’s gonna be minus twenty tonight and i- don’t want to freeze.”
she swears under her breath.
“they’ll freeze too?”
“…i dunno. we’ve made it though some other times like this before, but we always lose a couple. mostly the kids who don’t know jack from fuck, they don’t know to come find us.”
oh, this is an awful idea.
“…tell whoever you can get to that they can stay in my house a couple of nights. it’ll be tight, but i can cram maybe ten in there. fifteen if we’re pushing it.”
that other you blinks, dumbfounded.
“go. we’ve got the afternoon left. meet me back here, i’ll figure out a way to get all of you there.”
she turns and breaks into a sprint without another word.