Phantom Life Anonymous
“Well met, vislae. Thank you for joining this week’s check-in meeting at the Phantom Life Rehabilitation Center. You are welcome here, whether you are newly returned to the Actuality, or you’ve graduated our program and returned as a sponsor, or you’ve been mandated to attend. We will begin, as always, with a brief introduction of who we are in Indigo and who we were in Shadow. Marweg, why don’t you start us off?”
A fusty middle-aged man, overdressed for the occasion, stood up and looked about awkwardly but with an innocent friendliness. “Well, hello, fellow travelers. My name is Marweg, although in Shadow I went as Adrian Cainsley. I was a research librarian there, you see, but in truth I am a fraternal member of the Order Goetica. It took me some time to figure this out, of course, but I have been comfortably situated in my neighborhood of Arca in Fartown for a few years now.
“I have found occupation in breeding cherubs, helping them fold from their embryonic, purely spherical phase into their present forms. I am fully licensed with the Association for Erotic Progenation for this purpose. My avocation, however, involves the other beings I keep in my menagerie. It’s modest, but I hope to expand it soon, if my troublesome neighbors will permit. I dream one day to present at the Lattice Vitale on the subject of some previously undiscovered species, but alas, I must make do at present with merely attending their public lectures.
“Interacting with the inhabitants of my menagerie has encouraged a hypothesis of mine, which is that all beings and otherwise possess at least a latent capacity for speech. My findings thus far are meager and unreproducible…perhaps with time… But forgive me, let me pass the spotlight to this young lady.”
Marweg sat down, and the athletically built woman to his left stood gracefully. She wore a tan traveler’s cloak and observed the room with a piercing intensity.
“Thanks, Marweg. My name is Rhea, although I was Astrid Mendez in Shadow. Astrid was a dancer, and a great one at that. I don’t really know what to make of that time. I still have a memento from an old lover that somehow remained intact in the crossing to Indigo. I’ve been exploring this sun and have made my way to Satyrine—Ward here has been generous enough to let me crash on his couch for the time being—but I would really love to explore some of the other suns I’ve heard about. I can’t really complain though; Satyrine is pretty fascinating.
“We’re also in Arca, although I think a few streets over. It’s cozy—it feels like the entire block has a coordinated morning routine. Sister Morthag’s Halfway House for Semi-Departed Spirits is just down the hallway from us, but as the occupants are primarily noncorporeal, they are ideal neighbors. I’m still exploring the neighborhood a bit; there’s an abandoned cathedral nearby, with bells that peal at irregular intervals, and a restaurant that I swear is only open for five minutes at a time, but it’s always full.
“Anyway, that’s me, mostly. I’ve been learning a bit about magic myself but it’s mostly improvisational, and I’ve heard you can meet some proper Weavers here, so I’m hoping to connect up with a local cell, at least for a little bit. I’ll pass it over to Ward.”
As Rhea sat down, the group’s focus moved to the nervous scrawny blond beside her. He adjusted his glasses and rolled up his sleeves, revealing a glimpse of a tattoo, before speaking.
“Hi. I’m Ward, and I was told I needed to come here today. I’m a, uh, Maker, but I’m primarily focused on helping the Cathedral of Illuminism host the surplus spirits. I don’t have any with me right now since I’m still in the probationary period, but they got me an apartment and stuff. Like Rhea said, Sister Morthag’s next door. I get along pretty well with Marty, who I don’t think has realized he isn’t actually dead. He talks a lot but I just let him. Zennan, the street a couple blocks over, is less talkative, but we’re on good terms as well. I like to meet up with some of my neighbors over at the local coffee shop to read the headlines in the Obverse Herald and try to guess which ones are correctly predicting the future. Um, I was a medical examiner in Shadow, my name was Thomas back then. It feels like a fuzzy dream, though. Anyway, that’s me.”
Ward sat down, and the slim, auburn-haired woman to his left looked around before shakily standing up. A narrow scar on her right wrist was briefly visible before she covered it with her other hand and spoke.
“Uh, hi. I’m Winstead, although really I’m Greta? I don’t really know what this all is about. I’m a grad student, literature, but I woke up and found a room in a warehouse not too far from here? I was told that this was the Actuality and that this meeting should answer my questions, but I don’t think it really is.*I could swear that this was all a dream, but when I go to sleep here I just dream of the sea, and then I wake back up here.”
She sat down abruptly, frustrated. Rather than reaching out, the facilitator just looked expectantly at the fifth participant, a stocky and short fellow, dressed smartly with well-shined shoes and a tailored jacket.
“Well, then, I hope to end things on a cheerful note. My name is Jeremiah, and I live on the Stamwhence Parade, although I have an income property as well that I rent out as a dance studio. You may have noticed the parade; it charts a course throughout Fartown and occasionally other parts of Satyrine. I’ll be hosting a ball at Minton House that all of you are quite welcome to attend. There’ll be dancing and food and good company; I quite recommend it.”
He gestured to Rhea. “I am a Weaver myself and have been back for over a year. I would be happy to make introductions to some of the local cells; mine is currently at limit, but my fellow Weavers have been most helpful in guiding me when parts of me splinter off on occasion. I’m sure there’s another cell with an opening for you.”
Turning back to the facilitator, Jeremiah added apologetically, “I must, however, be off, as I’ve been asked to participate in a meeting of the stewards.” He clapped Winstead on the shoulder. “Don’t you worry, you’ll get settled in no time.”
With a wave, Jeremiah made his exit. The facilitator saw him out and then outlined the meeting agenda, primarily a crash course in the magic and surreality that was everyday life in the Actuality. Many vislae, given a generalized magical ability by their forebear Visla, had fled Satyrine and other parts of the Actuality during a cataclysm known simply as The War. Most took refuge in ignorance and deceit under the Grey Sun and its Earth. Returning to the broader Actuality and to their previous identities could be a shock, and Phantom Life Anonymous provided a gentle reintroduction and reassurance to newly returned vislae like Winstead. The meeting closed with an informal sharing period and light refreshments, and each gradually made their way out and back home.
* Winstead is a vislae but is not tied to an order; she is an apostate not by leaving a previous order but by never having been associated with one (and, at this point, being unaware of what an order even is). Because of this, the door remains open for her later to choose to join one, should she wish.