Page 57 of Tidal Creatures

“So am I,” says Erin. “No matter how many times we’ve gone back over things, we’ve never been able to find a way to save him. Not without losing everything else. Darren stays dead, or the timeline collapses.”

“Which would be bad,” interjects Smita.

“So this Reed fellow, he tried to embody some force so big it makes Order seem small, and he failed?” asks Isabella, and pales when Erin shakes her head and gestures for the others to follow her toward the house.

“No,” she says. “That would be the easy way to have done this. He tried to embody some force that makes Order seem small, and he succeeded. Twice over, since it turns out the Doctrine is so big you can’t stuff it into a single body and have room for that body to know how to be human.”

Isabella doesn’t say anything, and doesn’t pale further, but does stumble as they approach the garden gate, tripping over a little irregularity in the sidewalk.

Erin is polite enough not to comment, just opens the gate and holds it for the rest of them.

“They’re not that bad, really,” says Smita. “The way Reed’s protocol had them grow up means they thought they were normal people for a lot longer than most personifications do, and so they still have a lot of little normal-people habits and quirks that you don’t necessarily see from the ones who grew up in a lab.”

“You know, natural incarnations are more common than the artificial ones,” says Isabella, finally sounding like she feels comfortable contributing to the discussion. Kelpie looks at her. “Summer, Winter, the various faces of the Moon, all of them personify without alchemical intervention.”

“Maybe so, but that hasn’t been my experience,” says Smita. “People tell me natural incarnations are a thing, but they never seem to show up when I’m around. I met a very unpleasant lab-grown potential Winter once, if you can call ‘refusing to let her into the garden while she practically frothed at the mouth’ meeting someone. She went away when Erin came out and was terrifying at her.” She gives the other woman a look of such adoring fondness that it seems hard to believe they’re not together, or that Smita doesn’t want them to be.

“Your experience is a unique one,” says Isabella.

“Really? How many personifications have you met?” Smita sounds genuinely interested, and Kelpie looks to Isabella, eager to hear her answer.

It’s Isabella’s turn to redden faintly, blush appearing high on the arch of her cheekbones. “Before this week, two.”

“I live with five,” says Smita. “So even when we account for the people you’ve met, we’re still leading with the artificial.”

“We’re losing the thread,” says Erin. “Kelpie? Finish my story.”

Kelpie ducks her head. “Reed continued Baker’s work, striving for the Doctrine of Ethos and, by extension, for control of the Impossible City. He was successful in 1986, when twin children were born to one of his incubators—”

“Incubators?” squeaks Isabella, sounding appalled.

“—and verified as potential vessels for the Doctrine. They were separated and placed in the mundane world to mature, one under the care of alchemists Reed had personally selected, one in the custody of a neutral family. As they grew, their connection became apparent and, after a certain point, unbreakable. Attempts were made to separate them, to no avail. They would re-entangle despite all efforts, making it impossible to isolate them, even though they hadn’t physically met since birth.”

Erin gestures for her to stop before digging her house keys out of her pocket and picking up the thread. “In 2008, shortly after the murder of Smita Mehta, the pair fully connected on the alchemical plane, manifesting their full potential in the physical world for the first time. The Berkeley Earthquake was the result, and it scared them back into separation. Eight years later, they would reunite and defeat their creator, finally ascending to their place as the incarnate Doctrine of Ethos. Long may they get on my fucking nerves, forget to buy milk, and generally drive me to distraction.” She unlocks the door and shoves it open, so hard it slams against the opposing wall.

“I want to talk more about that ‘incubators’ comment,” says Isabella, preparing to follow her inside.

“We use the language we’re given,” says Erin, and steps in, Isabella close behind. Smita moves to follow, then looks back at Kelpie, who hasn’t moved. She seems to have become rooted to the porch, staring at the door like she’s afraid it might snap shut and swallow her whole.

“You coming?” asks Smita.

“I should,” says Kelpie. “Isabella says it’s not safe for me to be alone.”

And she doesn’t move.

“Okay, so come on.”

“I … can’t.”

Smita takes a step back, letting the door swing shut, and moves back toward Kelpie. “Why can’t you?”

“I’m … I’m what they were talking about. I’m a fake person. I didn’t know I was a fake person until just a few days ago, and I know how that sounds now that I’m out in the world where lab accidents don’t turn people into monsters, and the shape you have is always basically the shape you were born with, but that was what they told me and I believed them, because I didn’t know any better.”

“That’s all right,” says Smita soothingly. “We don’t use words like ‘real’ or ‘fake’ here—they’re the kind of abstracts we don’t need in this house—but even if we did, you wouldn’t be the only one. Erin was made in a lab. So were Roger and Dodger, and the kids. I’m the only one who lives here who wasn’t.”

“But what if they’re mad because I was helping the alchemists they ran away from try to find them? What if they look at me and go ‘no, you aren’t any tangible concept, the universe doesn’t need to personify you, go away’ and they make me be not? I know what Reed’s cuckoos can do! I’ve seen the research!”

“They really did treat you like you were one of them, didn’t they?” Smita sighs. “We don’t do things the way the alchemists you’re used to do them. We don’t want to. If they look at you and think you’re not supposed to exist, Erin and I will make sure they don’t do anything unpleasant. And who cares if you’re not a tangible concept? What do you embody, if that’s not a rude question? Living with this lot hasn’t really taught me much about dealing with other embodiments, or how they handle things among themselves.”