Chapter 22: Never Grant It

There were no words suitable to describe the surprise that overcame Aster. As her eyes fell on Nancy, the thought occurred that perhaps the entire fabric of the universe was in on a joke at her expense. Her mind, already weary and ruined by that tumultuous past week of trauma was running only on what sparse threads of logic remained, and thus could barely manage to comprehend the sight of her savior now suddenly before her, standing in the doorway.

“Aster?”

Her father turned to her as she failed to do much more than remain in the doorway, awkward and frozen still, mouth agape. Aster was, of course, trying with everything in her to keep from spiraling into a wreck of tears at Nancy's sudden appearance.

“I'm sorry, she's had a tough week,” her father remarked, apologizing.

Nancy waved away his concern with a smile.

“It's not a worry, we all have those days. Now please, come in!” she replied, inviting them in.

The sight that soon followed did little to temper Aster's astonishment— a living room, near as large as the recreation room that Aster so frequently haunted, met them immediately upon passing through the front door. Pieces of ultra-modern furniture— more fitting of an art exhibit than the actual paintings which hung beside them, filled the room. So grand, gilded, and insufferably intense was its air of opulence that even Aster's father could not hide his amazement.

“My God,” he uttered, gazing around the room wide-eyed.

“It becomes a lot less remarkable once you actually have it,” Nancy quipped, taking a seat on one of the curved and serpentine sofas.

“Please!” she added, gesturing for them to sit.

Aster obliged in timid manner, finding a seat in an egg-shaped chair. Her father instead smiled and offered a handshake to Nancy.

"My apologies, Mrs. Allen. I would love to stay and chat, but I have another daughter at home waiting for me. I hope you understand."

This was nothing but the biggest relief to Aster, who, from her first step into the apartment, could barely contain the white hot itch within her that was the teasing allure of reuniting with Peppermint Plains.

“You just leave Aster here to me,” Nancy replied, brushing her father's apology off. “She'll be a guitar whiz in no time.”

Aster's father smiled, and turned to his daughter.

"Have fun Aster. Be home as soon as you're finished, remember that Marienne is visiting tomorrow."

Aster did not appreciate the reminder. Still, she nodded a meek confirmation, and with that, her father made his exit.

The tension which took hold of the room immediately upon his leaving was remarkable. Aster's lip trembled as she searched for the right words with which to begin their conversation— how best to approach the questions which weighed upon her mind that past week, chief amongst those being just how to get her hands on the Eden device again.

“Where the fuck were you?!” Aster chose to shriek as her opening volley.

She had fantasized long and hard the past days about this moment, about what she would say to Nancy if she ever saw her again. She would mull over for hours on end the various accusations and insults that she'd hurl at her— all the grand, over-exuberant, pontificating diatribes she'd espouse— as she ground down Nancy much in the way she felt Nancy had worn at her sanity by leaving her to fend for herself.

But when the moment of opportunity struck— when finally came that time for action— Aster could only scream. Desperate to exorcise the heart-rending woe bubbling up inside her, she unraveled before Nancy in a torrent of incomprehensible blabbering and curse words as she heaved and shuddered before her.

Nancy simply sat and watched as Aster wept.

“It's not so easy to find someone in this tower, is it? You're lucky we were even able to meet again.”

Aster looked up at her, eyes swollen red.

“But how— how did you find me?” Aster sputtered.

“The how doesn't matter. Let's just say that your father was very fortunate to come across the perfect teacher for his ailing daughter.”

“What does that mean?! How did he know about you? I— I went to the Vanguard and even they didn't help me!”

Nancy looked away. The windows of her apartment stretched from the floor to the ceiling, the seam of where Earth met heaven visible from anywhere in the room. She gazed out on the red sunset which bled out from under the horizon, before turning back to face Aster. Her expression was grim.

“Listen to me, do not ever approach the Vanguard again. I don't know how you did it in the first place, but never again, you hear me? You will die.”

Aster turned away, shuddering. Nancy grabbed her face, and made her so that she could see her expression clearly. “The device is not a game, Aster. The Vanguard is not just something you can casually reach out to. Did you not see the news about Czukay? His end will be something more horrific than you could ever even imagine. They will torture him to within an inch of death, but never grant it to him, for they relish in testing the limit of a human's tolerance for pain. It can't even be said for certain if he will actually ever die, because I cannot see them ever wanting to relinquish their ability to bring such misery and horror to him.”

Aster's blood chilled as she listened to Nancy speak— for her meeting with the Vanguard had left her deeply conflicted. She felt the illegality of such an act had debased her to nothing more than a cretin and left her with an even more intense hatred for herself when she thought upon the filth it bathed her in. Most debilitating of all was the stain of paranoia it had sickened her with. She agonized that at any moment the state would arrive to arrest her— that somehow, they already knew.

These ailments combined with her perplexment rendered her physically sick. There were so many questions she had for Nancy that her mind could not sit still and decide on just one to ask. She knew so little about anything that had happened to her in the past week that she knew not where to start.

“Then why— why are you doing this for me?” she replied. Her voice broke with a slight inflection of pain. “What makes me worth the danger?

Nancy turned to her. Her serious gaze softened into a small smile.

“You were about to kill yourself. What else was I going to do? You seemed determined enough to me that just talking wasn't going to shake you out of it. Besides, I'll admit a little selfishness in saying that you reminded me of myself in a way.”

“Of yourself?”

“Your passion for music, yes. I can't tell you how long it's been since I've come across anyone who seems to have even the slightest inclination of ambition. Nowadays everyone just trudges from week to week, year to year. Nobody really seems to know how to live anymore.”

She paused, and looked Aster deep in the eyes. Aster thought Nancy's were remarkably clear and sharp for her old age.

“Even though you didn't want to be alive at the moment— it was only because your desire to live was so incessant that it brought you that much pain, right?”

Aster turned away from Nancy.

“I thought my therapy session was tomorrow,” she remarked.

“Such a wonderful wit,” Nancy chuckled, smiling. “Suffice to say however, you will need to keep using the device.”

Aster turned back to face her, confused. “I need to?”

“Did you have a good week without it?”

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“No, but that doesn't mean I need it—”

“You need it. There are a lot of things you must understand about this device, Aster. Unfortunately far too many things for me to tell you right at this moment— time is wasting and I cannot keep you here forever. So let me start with the basics, you have probably tried to exit the device, correct?”

“Yes!” Aster cried out. “It doesn't work, I can't get any menus to pop up. Am I doing something wrong?”

“You are not.”

“Then why can't I leave by myself?!”

“Because it's not possible. The Eden device is a one-way trip to a controlled hallucination that is not meant to be left unless under extraordinary circumstances. Benzodiazepines are what are used to wake you out of it— I injected you with them when security came.”

It was at this moment that Nancy reached into a bag before her, pulling out a syringe as demonstration. Aster recoiled in horror. She grabbed at her left arm, now aware of the reason for the subtle muscle ache that had plagued her for several days after their meeting.

“What the fuck is that?! I can't leave by myself?”

“No. The intention is partly to make it as terrifying a prospect as possible, and partly because it's necessary.”

“Necessary?”

Nancy's expression shifted to a curious shade of melancholy.

“The Eden device is not Eden in name only, or named as a cliché. It exists to show the user their most intimate desire, to allow them to interact lucidly with it. The goal, once you have entered the device, is to achieve that wish. Now tell me Aster, what did it show you, and how shall you achieve that dream?”

 

—

 

The next half-hour consisted of Aster reciting everything she could remember about Peppermint Plains and its inhabitants to Nancy. So great was her excitement to finally confide in somebody about this world that she barely afforded herself a moment to breathe as she painted maniacal and exciting portraits of Floyd's insanity, of how much she loved Sylvia, and of how Cecil and Marion's seriousness secretly made her bubble over with laughter even more so than it usually would have angered her.

Most notable of all however, was the shine in her eyes as she recalled their escapades playing their first concerts— their awkward attempts at practicing, how Floyd bought them all new instruments.

Nancy took note of how for the first time in their short acquaintance, this bitter and broken girl was showing a warmth within her. Her tears dried as an expression almost resembling a promise of happiness and hope arrived in her eyes and across her face. In equal measure, the anger she showed describing how Johnny Vallerie had betrayed them showed a pure, healthy sense of complete passion.

“You really do love music, don't you?” Nancy finally remarked at the end of it. She appeared to Aster to be lost in her own wistful recollection for a moment.

“What are the chances it would've made you a musician in the sixties? It honestly gives me goosebumps— to think all their pontification about singularity might not be bullshit. How else do you explain this?”

“Wait, who—”

“Tell me Aster, what is it you desire in 'Peppermint Plains'?”

“To become world famous, of course.”

Nancy smirked. “An understandable aim, and one you are very lucky that I can help out in.”

Aster looked around the room for a moment, drinking in the scenes of success and accolades past.

“How? How do I succeed?”

“Well, that 'Floyd' as you describe him doesn't seem to know his head from his ass. You're better off finding a proper manager.”

Aster felt a surprising twinge in her chest at this.

“He doesn't, but I don't think I can drop him like that. He isn't a bad person. He gave me a place to stay, he bought me a new bass—”

“A good person isn't always a good manager. I agree that he doesn't sound like a bad individual, but success is not built on kindness, Aster. Unfortunately, it very rarely ever makes room for it.”

Aster did not say a word in response, but merely shook her head, making eye contact with the ground. Nancy turned to look at her, catching a glance of the pained look across her face.

“If you want to keep Floyd, then I guess I can act as your manager outside of Peppermint Plains.”

Aster, completely startled, turned to her in excitement.

“Seriously? You'll help me?”

“Did I not just say I would? Now, the first thing I want you to do when you return is find a way to record your shop's phone. That 'Johnny Vallerie' will call you— I know this for he sounds like a prick I have known a thousand times. He will call you and give you one hell of a piece of his mind for what you did to him at the festival. Record it however you can and use that as leverage.”

“Leverage?” Aster was now perched half-off the odd, egg-shaped chair, captive audience for Nancy.

“Yes, blackmail. You're a smart girl.”

With this, Nancy rose, and disappeared into another room a moment, before returning with a silver satchel.

“You will be going under for three hours— about two weeks time in Peppermint Plains. Try to make good progress.”

She reached into the satchel, pulling out the tiny, obsidian black device.

Aster's heart burst within her chest at the sight of it— the figurative reason for living manifest right before her. A warm, anxious, anticipating shudder course down her body as Nancy approached, holding the device before her.

“Learn to live, Aster.”

Aster took the shining jewel into her shaking palms and affixed it right to her temple underneath her thick locks, then drifted soundly to sleep.

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