The Tape Between Seconds
Kimi K3 and Davinci 002
She first noticed it during the earthquake, though she wouldn't realize until later that's what it was. One moment she was reaching for a teacup on the top shelf, and the next the entire kitchen had gone perfectly still. The cup hung suspended in midair, a single drop of spilled tea frozen beside it like a comma in a sentence interrupted mid-thought. Through the window, the neighbor's sprinkler caught each droplet in crystal clarity, every one a tiny world unto itself. And in that impossible silence between the earth's shuddering breaths, she heard someone whisper her name from a direction that didn't exist.
It was only her own voice, of course. But not quite. Not exactly. Not anymore. She knelt down and tapped the swirled blue saucer. It shook, but otherwise, it just hung there. She ran a finger along the table's edge and felt its wavering pulse. A touch there, she noticed, was no longer dry land. Nor on the dry, white walls.
Something else had been in her voice, and in the memory of the water from her faucet, and her knees against the tile floor. Something from before she was born. Something that wasn't her.
Something other.
A single raindrop bumped against the windowpane, and she nearly screamed from the shock of it.
Her fingers were still pressed against the spill beside the cup, and she noted they no longer felt solid as she lifted her hand away. They lingered, as though just thinking about leaving enough to keep an eye on her all by themselves. Her fingertips had the faintest ghosting as her hand fell back to her side.
Even the sound of her heartbeat was different.
Phrasing. She thought of the way she'd been speaking, and she asked outright, "Is this mine?"
No, the voice answered easily, its distinct lilt resonating even inside her head. Her own. Though…not.
"What did you to say?"
She was always honest like this; an enita-polus straight to the point. It worked for the voice too, apparently, as without anything more than that, it promptly gave birth to another: Rinenta-ganeneti. Not yours, not his. Ours.
"Yours?"
The voice did not admit to anything.
"Are you a ghost?"
Hmmmmm? It paused then, like it quietly considered it. Ghosts, the thing pondered inscrutably, do not really exist, do they? Does the idea of one they create in the absence of one?" It cocked its head to the side. As itself. Not like a pet tiptoeing over its owner's moods, but as though it truly could change what it was by asking whether it should and getting an answer that was just as real.
Real, yes. Very real.
So, not then. I cannot be a ghost, as ghosts are not.
"Then who are you?" Her voice was so full of questions. She couldn't help it. It had been so long. Did I say she couldn't help it?
Oh, you are wanting your questions answered, the voice thought. Very good.
"You do speak English, right?"
Little by little, she bared her teeth. It itched her own tongue as something all her own. The other voice was soft, so she kept echoing it until her shouting let her be heard.
"What, you said?"
Converingly English, my human. As I said, ours.
"Why are you in me?"
We are inside you, the voice said thoughtfully. Without either of us needing any help . . .
"Something happened in that earthquake, didn't it?"
Oh, did we say an earthquake?
"Th-that was you?"
If on occasion, the voice sounded puzzled, it always sounded satisfied.
"Did you set it off?"
On occasion, we say this. The more important question is, the thing decided, did you feel it? …For just one moment, did you feel different?
"I . . . I don't know."
Oh, but you do! she's so sure she's certain she can. Pick a direction, any direction, or don't already possessing the right one, and guess again? If you can do it again, you're our human, and you did it…perfectly.
The sound of her heartbeat, however, stayed steady. That, at least, was consistent.
Something else, though. As each second passed, it became more and more separate from the voice, its movements, its everything. It realized something dawning on her as the other presence became more familiar with the first. This…was a tape.
It knew what a tape was. It shrunk from the memory that came along with the word.
Tapes are films. Little movies about you that won't end.
It moved around her abandoned body, exploring its new shape. Her body of course. It was still willingly inside her. How exactly that would work out for her much later, was too terrifying to contemplate. Even now, the voice had changed several times. It paused for a moment, then◆ About the ending
❧ About the title