Chapter 11: Part 11

“You mean to tell me,” Boddy-One demanded, “That you can build a mental construct?” Oh yes. We can do that and so much more.

I ignored Imaginary Me, distracting myself by checking on the progress of the sleep-creature. It was still moving closer to us, but its advance had slowed. Was it responding to my emotional state? I was certainly going to have some difficulty sleeping now. Would you like me to do something about that? The creature, that is. Could he? The creature was already outside my mind.

“I didn’t know that’s what I was doing…but yeah,” I answered. “Ever since the second time I came to the Lane.” Daniel, don’t worry about where I am or where the creature is. Do you want my help, or not? I didn’t want to do anything else that I would regret.

Maps was silent. Boddy-One looked out at the sleep creature briefly and turned back on me, baring his many teeth. “So that’s not just some sort of wild metaphor, then? It’s brand new? You made it?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t even know it was possible to make them until ten minutes ago! Maybe?” Oh, you certainly did make it. You could make me, too. After all, it takes a thought construct to fight a thought construct. Go ahead. Ask Maps. Or your new friend there, Wanda.

Wanda interrupted us. Momentarily, I forgot what was happening and looked in her direction, then quickly away again. “I think I must have,” I answered, trying to force myself to be calm. “Could I unmake it?”
Wanda answered first, cutting off Maps’s voice. “Well, I’ve never heard of any thought constructor being able to outright destroy one of their creations but I would certainly be interested to find out.” See? That wasn’t exactly conclusive. I turned to Maps, who shook his head.

“Sorry, Mister Daniel. Not possible. There are three ways that creature,” he waved in the direction of the sleep-creature. How was he so calm about it? “Is going to be destroyed. The first is if we simply…destroy it. The natural way. Unfortunately, metaphors, especially first-generation metaphors, are quite tough. You saw how little damage Boddy’s pistol did to it.” You can’t exactly just kill sleep, Daniel. 

“Option two?” I asked, ignoring Illusory Me.

“Well, you could reincorporate the idea. It’s supposed to be an unpleasant sensation, but it could become a part of you again. There would be side effects, especially while you’re here.”

“What kind of side effects?”

“Well, as I understand it, the metaphor and the concept it represents become inseparable, with regards to you.”

“So I’d have that thing in my mind every time I went to sleep?”

“Yes. The sensation of sleep ‘clawing its way out of the ground’, I believe was the metaphor you said birthed it?”

I shuddered. You’re going to like option three, Illusory Me said with unrestrained delight.

“What’s option three?” I asked aloud. Maps opened his mouth, then closed it again, shaking his head.

“Option three isn’t up for discussion, Daniel.”

Boddy-One growled. Actually growled. Like--No similes, Daniel, unless they’re about letting me go.--Right. His ire was directed mostly at the creature for the moment, but I could tell he wasn’t happy with me either.

“What is it, though?” I asked. You already know the answer, taunted Illusory Me.

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“You could create another thought construct!” Wanda interjected. I looked over at her briefly. Her expression was one of such eagerness that for a moment I wondered if she was--not metaphorically--a touch unstable. Then I looked away, before my eyes could wander. “It would be as durable as your ill-planned metaphor there, but you could build it to have a natural advantage over the one you’ve already created.”

“Yes, except that leaves us with the same problem, only stronger,” Boddy-One snarled. “You’d simply be making bigger and bigger monsters until you got destroyed by one of them. At least this monster only wants to make you get some rest.”

I tried to absorb all of this. Oh, take your time, Daniel. We can work through it at the speed of thought, after all. I thought he was just a reflection of my mind, but Illusory Me--Can I have a name now?--was something more. I hadn’t ever meant to create him. Was that something that was normal for thought-constructors? I had the brief sensation of forgetting something important. I supposed that Illusory Me did deserve a name. What was his purpose? Why had I built him? I’m supposed to be the thought police, remember? You asked me to keep an eye out for illusions, and to keep you from releasing any unwanted metaphors. Which he had failed at. Great, now I was being smug at myself on both sides of the equation. Well, I’m still learning the ropes. Okay, his name could be Rookie. Since he was a new cop on the scene.

‘Rookie?!’ Rookie raged. ‘You couldn’t give me an actual name? Something dignified?’

Sorry Rookie. When in Rome, do as the Romans. When on the Lane, do as the hobs. Your name is your profession. You can upgrade to Lestrade when you’ve proved you can handle it.

Rookie went to sulk in a distant corner of my mind. I opened my eyes. I hadn’t remembered closing them. The sleep-creature was halfway back to us. Boddy-One’s grip was tightening over his revolver. Maps was watching my face intently, his own expression inscrutable. I added him to the “no poker” list. Wanda was still scratching something in her notebook, her pack forgotten at her feet. A small stream of water was flowing over her feet. Had that always been there, or was this some of the oddness of the Lane?

‘Naiads’ answered Rookie from his sulking corner. ‘Are Greek river spirits. Symbols of purity. They carry the river with them.’

Oh. Right. That made sense. I should probably do some research on the types of things I might encounter in here.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll…I’ll reincorporate it. How do I do that?”

“I’m not actually sure,” answered Maps, still intently watching me. “Thought construction is a uniquely human trait, and none of the constructors I’ve met explained the process.”

“Ooh, but you should tell me once you figure it out!” Wanda added. “It would be so great to find out.” Wanda clearly worked for the right House.

“Alright. I guess making it happened naturally enough. Maybe I have some instinctive knowledge?”

“Should we be that lucky,” commented Boddy-One. He kept his finger outside the trigger guard but he was slowly flexing and relaxing it, as if ready to fire.

“Well, worst case scenario, I’m asleep, right?” I answered, setting my feet to begin sprinting at the creature. “Seems a safe enough time to learn.” Without waiting for further concerns or comments, I started to run full-tilt at the many-armed creature. Its claws started to thrash the air in anticipation.

The last words I heard were “Comas are sleeping too, Daniel.” I’m not sure which of the them brought it up.

I slammed into the creature. It was less solid than I expected, but still plenty solid enough to hurt. With a grunt of effort, I tried to pull it back into my mind. It wrapped its many claws around me and began to drag me downward. ‘Comas are sleeping too,’ Rookie’s voice…my voice…echoed back at me. ‘You should have let me help you.’

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