Page 151 of Velveteen vs. The Consequences of Her Actions

“You mean when they abducted us so they could stop the legislation that would have turned me and Tag both into useful tools for the American government, rather than people with actual rights and stuff?” asked Velveteen. “Yeah, I remember.”

“They asked me if I wanted to come back.”

“And you said no, and everything’s good now,” said Velveteen. Polychrome looked away. Velveteen stared at her. “And you said no,” she repeated.

“I did,” said Polychrome. “But I think…I think maybe I spoke too soon. I think maybe I need to go back, just for a while, just to be absolutely sure they’re not hurting kids anymore. I need the closure we never got. And I wouldn’t be going alone. Torrey says she’ll go with me, if this is something I really want to do.”

“I got you out,” said Velveteen. “You got yourself out. We both worked so hard to be together, and now you just…you just want to leave me again?”

“No!” said Polychrome. “No, I never want to leave you. But if I have the opportunity to be sure, I have to take it. For both of us. For all of us. But most of all, for me. I need to know we did some lasting good in this world.”

“You’re an adult. I can’t stop you.”

“No, but you can hate me, and I can’t stand you hating me again. I’m not sure I would survive it.”

Velveteen laughed, deep in her throat. “That’s the problem, Lena. I never hated you. Even when I thought I did, I loved you too much for that. If you need this, then go. I guess this is what Uncertainty meant when he said we needed the opportunity to decide for ourselves. I guess we need to start having faith that we can love each other without being in the same room.”

“This is the new normal,” said Polychrome.

“Normal sucks,” said Velveteen. “But I guess normal is also a good thing, because normal means we’re getting better. We’re growing as people. And Tag and I can handle Portland on our own, especially with Jackie and the Princess on speed dial. Go and get your answers. We’ll be here when you’re ready to come home.”

“I love you,” said Polychrome.

“I love you too,” said Velveteen, and stood, crying without shame, as she watched her best friend step off the edge of the roof and fly away. They were building a better future. For everyone. Sometimes, that had to hurt.

VELVETEEN vs. A Potential Happy Ending

In the infinite black-and-white nothing of the universe outside the universe, the place where time had no meaning and causality was a negotiation in endless process, two people sat at a table made of glass that had been twisted and stretched into an explosion of spires and ribbons, like the center of some sort of impossible tropical plant. A flat, clear disk sat upon the central burst of shapes and angles, providing them with a surface on which to set their drinks.

The woman, tall, dark-haired, and olive-skinned, dressed in a long flowing garment that resembled a chiton almost exactly as much as it resembled a sari, or a shroud, had a fluted ivory glass of golden liquid that smelled of honey and warm spices. The man, equally tall if broader of shoulder, with hair the color of pomegranate seeds, had a sturdy glass tumbler filled with ice and a yellowish liquid, crowned with a slice of sugared lemon. Both of them were staring at the center of the table like it might reveal all the mysteries of the cosmos.

“I didn’t think she was going to make it this far,” said the man, bewildered.

“Why?” asked his companion. “Because she’s a woman? Because she’s an animus?”

“Because she’s incapable of seeing something broken without deciding she should run toward it as fast as she possibly can, waving her arms in the air and shouting about how delicious she would be if she were to be devoured.”

“That’s most of the heroes, Chronos,” scolded the woman lightly. “You know that. Something about giving them powers creates heroes and villains, and they all seem to want to follow their natures more than almost anything else in the world. More than sex and drugs and—I don’t know, whatever it is humans are into these decades. Cheeseburgers? The heroes want to do heroism more than they want cheeseburgers.”

“Some of them are vegetarians, or lactose-intolerant, or Jewish, so I certainly hope they want heroism more than they want cheeseburgers,” said Chronos. “A life defined by wanting what you’re not allowed to have is no fun at all, and gets us into creation myth territory, which even I would rather avoid when possible.”

“Be that as it may, why did you think this specific one wasn’t going to make it this far?”

“Because she asked for superpowers.”

The woman paused, blinking, as her brows drew together and formed a wrinkle at the center of her forehead. Chronos looked at it and wished, as he always did, that he could kiss it away; but sadly, he knew better. They were the two most powerful superbeings in existence, humans who had ascended barely shy of godhood. Where they lived was as far outside the normal flow of time as the Seasonal Lands, while being far less anchored to anything resembling causality. Casual affection was no longer in the cards for them, hadn’t been since before the fall of Rome, and likely never would be again. When the slightest touch could erase dynasties, self-control became key to survival.

“I don’t follow,” said the woman, finally.

“Ananke, how long have we been doing this?” asked Chronos.

“Long enough,” she said, and smiled. “The exact year has faded, but I remember the look in Gilgamesh’s eye as he asked us to take this burden away from his people for another generation.”

“Gilgamesh was millennia ago,” said Chronos. “Thousands of years since we realized what we were becoming, what we would inevitably become. Thousands of years here beyond the world, alone except for every fifty years, when a hero—or villain—from the world of men would find their way here to us, and ask us to set their burden aside. Hundreds of superhumans asking us to change the world for them. I don’t know about you, but I thought that was how things were going to be forever. Every fifty years or so, humanity would re-earn superpowers, and a few decades after that, one of them would come to us and ask that it should not be so.”

“Until Velveteen.”

“Until Velveteen,” he agreed. “She’s broken—they all are—but for her, the cracks somehow formed a shape she could live with, and now the world gets to keep what it earned. Will they even need to come to us any longer?”