from the OTHER archives: Socks, Part 3, Chapters 11-13

So when we last left off, Algeria had a flashback which conveniently told the readers about her genetic makeup and flat out told everybody about her backstory. Bravo, G. You did an absolutely fantastic job writing that exposition.

When the dream was over, I found myself in the nurse’s office, laying down on a bed. Emma was there.

Of course she was. School admins in stories always pull strings to make sure that the main character and any side characters always get classes together. They have nothing better to be doing since any other students cease to exist once they’re not in the shot.

“Algeria? Wake up! You’ve been delirious for an hour.”
“Huh? What?” I said. “I’m awake now. What is it?” And why am I in a nurse’s office?”

Because you fainted, you retard. Connect the dots. I would seek medical attention if it looked like one of the students in my science class were having a brain embolism.

“She said you were having a migraine and a fever. Besides, you were moaning. But you seem ok now.”

Props to G for giving so little of a fuck during writing that she didn’t even bother to write out the word “okay”.

“What were the fairies?” I asked.
“What fairies?” asked Emma. Then, in a whisper, she said to me, “Other than you, of course.”
“I saw fairies…” I managed to say before I fell asleep.

Algeria confirmed for street drug sniffer.

When I woke up, I was back in the bed at Emma’s house. How I got there, I don’t know.

I love me some deus ex machinas! I have the feeling that we’re going to encounter some more in future chapters. Hell, this entire series is just one deus ex machina-filled power fantasy.

I drifted in and out of sleep for the next half hour or so, never really waking up. Then Emma walked in with a heavy backpack.

“Algeria!” Emma’s eyebrows arched in alarm, quickly abandoning her backpack by the door and rushing to Algeria’s side. “How did you get dismissed home so early? How did my mom let you in my house? Why did you get sent home with me when you have no data in your emergency card or even an emergency card at school at all? What is the meaning of life?”

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” Emma said. “Ready to tell me what was going on at Science class? You were acting really quiet. The teacher asked you a question a lot of times, but you never said anything. Then I had to carry you all the way to the nurse’s office. Thank goodness we were on the same level they were!

I’m pretty sure that a teacher would intervene before there would be such a breakdown of protocol that they would be okay with one student carrying another. I’m sure that would break at least three sexual harassment policies at my current school.

I would have had to roll you down the stairs otherwise. Two flights of stairs!

Okay, that’s definitely in violation of some rule! Where are the hallway patrols? the teachers on prep hour? the police on call? I want answers!

Then after you fell asleep again, I just left you there for the rest of the day.

Because education will lead to more fruitful paths in life than attending to the needs of some fairy-human freak.

You woke up enough to go home, though, but you fell again. So I just left you there, in the bed.”

If only I could one day achieve this level of not giving a damn. Not all the time, though- I’m not an emotionless robot. Just for the times when I need to abandon poisonous people in my life.

“I feel better now,” I responded. “Can I get out now? I don’t feel tired anymore.”

“No.” Emma retrieved some ropes from the closet. “I’m calling the police. Don’t try to escape.”

“Sure. Just make sure to get out through the window. Come back through it, too.”

“Please don’t come back through,” Emma corrected once Algeria had exited the building. “You’re awfully distracting. I mean, seventh grade is tough and all what with my identity crisis that I’m going through, but having to worry about the welfare of two people at all times wrecks me. And not in a sexual way.”

I went outside, but when I did, there was a distinct chatter coming from the neighbor’s house.

“Larry, someone’s invaded my neighborhood again. Now help me do these taxes.”

“Subject 3 now knows that she is the result of an experiment. We have only 2 choices now: eliminate her, or send her back to the Laboratory.”

“How about I grab you a gun instead, Mathilde?”

They were clearly talking about me. But what laboratory were they talking about?

Which one do you think, smart one? Obviously the one who created your Mary Sue rear end, or else they wouldn’t have used the word “back”.

Then some more chatter from the house:

That sentence was unnecessary.

“But how would we get there? This is the real world, and the Laboratory of Soona Bris is in Dreamland.

We would have to find a new supply of permathium to teleport back there. And you know that the Generators used up the last batch in transporting Subject 3 to the real world, which was clearly against orders.”

So there’s a hierarchy to madness?

“Simply by flying. Here are the instructions.”
They gave off coordinates, which I easily memorized. And the thing was, they led to the same place I saw in my dream.

How would you know that if the dream was cut off from space and time?

There was only enough time to explain to Emma why I was leaving, but then I had to say goodbye.

“Your autistic bout is ending, Emma. You’re going to return to reality now and realize that you’ve forgotten to do all your math homework from last week. Have fun getting caught up.”

Just as storm clouds were forming in the distance.

I love me some dead herrings!

There were 3 hours between where Emma’s house was and where I was now.

Pray tell how you know since you don’t have a watch.

It was the top of a very tall building. No, I’m not going to tell you which one, partly because you might be one of the freaks in disguise, trying to look for me. And partly because I didn’t know.

It was in the middle of a thunderstorm, and I was standing on the top, which means that I was pretty much the tallest thing around. Theoretically, if any lightning wanted to come down, it would strike me.

Why are you on top of the building, then?

Then there was a flash of lightning, but it didn’t hit me. Instead, it went for an abandoned cart by the entrance of the building, which then trembled a bit as the cart exploded. People around the cart temporarily went into minor chaos as they wondered what would be the next thing to be struck.

A… a wooden cart? Who even uses those anymore? And why is it abandoned?

And the cart was pouring out liquid that must have been stored in it’s underside, because I didn’t see it before.

It’s time. I feel it, I know it. It all came so quickly, but I knew that it was right, and that this was the way I was supposed to go.

Here we go again with the tense changes. Stop trying to be deep, G. You’re not deep.

The liquid was now puddling now, and made what I guessed was a portal. Was this a portal to Dreamland?

“Was Now Puddling Now“: A Masterpiece By G

I jumped, head first, towards what I guessed was a portal back to Dreamland and the Laboratory, which was where I wanted to go now. The sky crackled, and lightning struck all the buildings in the city at the same time.

How tragic it would be if you were wrong. And why do you need to jump head first if you can fly? Or maybe just step into it?

Lightning. Once it has struck the earth, white-hot and bright, there is no going back.

You stole this quote from a book.

Flying over the Field of Bad Things, I was confident. I was about to discover the connection between what the neighbors had said and what had been in the weird dream I had in Science class.

I think we can make that connection already. You were made in a laboratory, escaped, and now they want you back. Simple Plot Generator, away!

Dreamland was different now; it had changed since I was forced to leave. It was now dark and gloomy, and rain poured everywhere.

If I were being hunted down by a group of abusive adults, of course I would be forced to leave. It was for your own safety, whether you like it or not.

The Laboratory was surrounded by the Field of Bad Things, which meant that I was about an hour away from the Laboratory.

Either the Field of Bad Things is really small, or you can fly faster than humans can physically run. Either way, the wind must really be messing with your vision.

The hour passed quickly, and I arrived there, landing on the very steep roof. My wings flapped for balance as I tried to find an entrance on the roof.

And then the security systems went off and the book ended.

There was an air panel, so I opened that and it directly led to one of the more frequently-used labs.

How would you know that if you haven’t been there in a while, Algeria?

Thank goodness it was vacant right now.

Verb Tense Consistency

I dropped below, silently and stealthily. (No, I am not a ninja. Ninjas are ancient Japanese assassins.)

More Verb Tense Consistency

I was inside the Laboratory now, in the room where all of the flashbacks had taken place.

G, Please Just Clean Up Your Goddamn Writing So I Can Stop Linking To Verb Tense Consistency Pages

I spun around and saw things that had been there: the door, the gurney, the hallway where they had stood…

I thought that they stood in a room during the flashback? I don’t know; you barely gave me any details. I was never really good with reading comprehension, anyways.

Suddenly, the seemingly vacant loudspeaker in the corner became active, and the voice that spewed out of it was the voice I had been dreading I would find here.
Tomorrow.

Why would you be expecting Tomorrow here? She was in the flying instruction field with the apple cider! Why would she be here if the experience of living here was a horrific as you make it seem?

“Ah, yes, Algeria! I was thinking that you would show up here. Care to know more about yourself?”

Would you look at that- I think that this series has made me physically ill! My throat has been sore all day, and my ears have been ringing ever since I was dragged to that horrid parade. I hate parades… but I suppose I’ll be better by the time that this post makes its way through the scheduled queue.

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