2024-06-15 - Northwest

Periodically, Patchwork tried to reach back to the other minds Mother sometimes reached to even after the first failed attempt. For the longest time those minds remained distant and indistinct, something Patchwork only knew of through Mother's mind. For Patchwork those minds seemed to stay distant and muted before something within Patchwork changed, bringing the presences outside of Patchwork and Mother into sharp focus.

“...Hello?” Patchwork called out, excited and pensive all at once. “Hello? I'm here. Can you hear me?”

It was after a period of quiet that Butterfly Wings found something was different. The distant glitter of the other minds, the minds that were not self and not Mother, was no longer ephemeral and impossible to reach, but clear and bright. They had only to reach out and touch them, but another reached out first.

"I can hear you," Butterfly Wings answered, still a little foggy from resting, "who are you?"

Miles is still sulking after the epiphany that it isn't Everything when one of the distant flower petal thoughts solidifies into words.

That was new.

And new things were good! Immediately the petulance melted away into curiosity, and the little dragon reaches out grasping at the other minds

"You are new, will you entertain me?"

IT - it was Portoro and Portoro was it. it had cried to SHE often and it had cried to SHE loudly. So loud, so loving, so frantic and needy, so yearning to be with SHE again, so yearning to be like SHE, that it had not noticed that the whispers, flutters and sparks around it had grown and shifted and begun to take on new, brillianr clarity.

It would have leaped in its shell at Patchwork's call had it not mearly been able to manage a delicate flutter. The call was so sharp and sudden and delightful, and so Portoro opened its mind and let it all in.

"I HEAR YOU!" It shouted with glee. "HELLO!"

The shout had torn through its surroundings, whipping over one groggy mind and another curious one as eager little comets of thought and excitement; Portoro started, and then began again, quieter. These sparks were not SHE - these were clear and bright and small and strong. "...hello."

Yes! Others! Any doubt Patchwork held fell away immediately at the first reply. They were there! They were there and they were real! Patchwork radiated out its own delight and eagerness to socialize, trying to invite the other not-Mother minds into that space.

“Hi!” It called back to Butterfly, “I'm me! I'm me and you're you and we aren't the same! Did you know we wouldn't be?”

Then it turned to Miles, but what was it that Miles wanted? Entertainment?
“I can try!” Patchwork said, almost uncertain. “But what is it? I don't know … tell me what to do and I'll do it!”

And then the last close-by mind answered Patchwork too. It shouted, something Patchwork itself had never experienced before and for the first time Patchwork recoiled back into itself, away from that much louder mind. It stayed back for a moment, reeling and trying to collect itself before it reached back. “Hi? How did you make your words so big? I didn't know you could do that. Can I do that?”

Butterfly Wings felt their sleepiness evaporate when one of the clearest, nearest, glittering not-self minds answered. Even if Mother couldn't hear them, these others could and it was thrilling. They could hear the others too! For a while, Butterfly Wings had been afraid that they would never be able to communicate with any of the not-selves.

"Hello," they called to Patchwork, "We are different! I hoped that we would be not the same! Does Mother not hear you too? I don't like that Mother doesn't hear me."

Another near not-self reached out, looking for... entertainment? What did they mean? Were Mother's flying dreams entertainment? Butterfly Wings certainly liked the flying dreams.

"Do you like the flying dreams?" they asked Miles. "I like the flying dreams; I want to fly too."

Before Butterfly Wings could ask the others more questions, another nearby mind answered very loudly. In fact, that last nearby mind shouted. Butterfly Wings drew back at the noise, trying to recover their balance. That was much too loud for Butterfly Wings to like.

"That was very loud."

"I love the flying dreams!" Miles responds eagerly. "They are my favorite break in the boredom!" He calls out his mind voice as loud as possible. Apparently loud was important to being heard.
"Flying dreams are best entertainment, at least until now. The dreams don't respond, You do!"

"I LIKE BIG WORDS. I...want things as hard as I can, and that makes them big. BIG." It's voice receded somewhat after that - not uncertainly but by way of explanation. "I try big words with Gwyllanth, with Mother, the SHE...and the others. I do not think they hear me." The pervasive sense of being let-down, of heartbreak and crush and confusion tugged and dragged on it's last sentence.

More minds shouted and Portoro could not help but giggle - not unkindly, of course! It was a burbling, effervescent joy, the thrill of seeing and being seen.

"I am happy you hear me. I am happy you are here, all of you! You are all so different...it is beautiful. You have been here the whole time? Are there more?!

"It is better than any dream." The last part was a quieter coo.