Actor's Anteroom: Leash

That time, I found myself rolling around in the bed endlessly. Only a few days had passed since taking the special assignment, but since there was no work for me since the morning, it was my first opportunity to really think about the deed.

I found myself trying to walk the edge of reality and dream on purpose, hoping that perhaps it would carry me somewhere else. I would wake up into a better world, where I still had a family, and never had become myself. A world where I would have no wish to make to that star on the devil cat's forehead.

Soon enough, as it goes, I wound up with a headache instead, which not even Eversor physiology has yet found a cure for. Or maybe it was because I got hungry, and thirsty, and my biorhythm was already in high gear. Water was easy enough to obtain when I couldn't take it anymore, but somehow there was absolutely nothing in the fridge, bar a single protein bar, which tasted as horrible as every protein bar does. The oatmeal I've made from leftover dry resources couldn't even fill the bowl whole.

I must have food fairies in my apartment. I am probably one of them. Another fairy would not get to the lunch box in my Inventory, right?

Either way, not in the mood for a book, this called for a stroll to the store in every way.  Once the afternoon sun had blinded my gloomy eyes and made me sneeze while wind blew into my face, perhaps I'd feel more in touch with the world, and the best metaphysical anchor to certify my existence with would have been something heavy in my stomach.

A mistake has been made, there. On the way back, I pulled out the earbuds, and almost got through the first two tracks of Made in Heaven while waiting for a tram, chewing on quark pie, which would obviously be only the surface of my newly procured culinary materials. The mistake, obviously, was bringing a phone for groceries at all. It's a Beautiful Day may have worked wonders to clear my head out, but the inevitable ringtone midway through the namesake song sent the painful ebb right back into my skull.

"You awake, Mira? You got emergency! Are you at home?"

I'm pretty sure I actually mumbled something in the lines of "please shut up" to my superior in all the agony, but she went right on to explain that it was Code Black - a hunter had needed retirement quickly. I'd need to get over there pronto, grocery bag and all.
Unfortunately, while I was four stations away - yes, I could have walked back - I was still the closest other hunter to her location.

Before Freddie could say "When sunny skies break through behind the clouds, I wish it could last forever", the entrance lied bare before my eyes. It was a broken fence into the expansive estate with a colorful garden that I'd pass pretty often going about my business. It would have been unfortunate if somebody chased me out like a robber, because I'd reappear in the garden after the job, but on the other hand, there was the curiosity about how the place looked on the inside to begin with. I am no longer the little girl pulling herself up on fences and walking walls between courtyards of city blocks just to see what it's like on the inside. It would be silly, even if I still realy want to do that sometimes.

The outside being mostly a park, I don't think anyone saw me crawl in. There was, of course, a whole new world past the torn up hole some kid must have made - a ballroom of masquerading Familiars.  My quick attempt to sense the Witch's location using the gem gave just grey noise. A Magical Girl grander than me would probably have played the game prepared in here, trying to find a pattern in the masks and divine the Witch's identity among the courtiers, but being a hunter on your own, you really don't get to have that kind of fun. I just had to keep killing them without subtlety until I killed the right one, or the right one got frustrated and revealed themselves.

The very first few wide slashes, bisecting and throwing the surprised masketta men all around, saw them rally themselves around a particular spot. Oh, they were all boys. That made this really easy, then. I could disregard the masks, even if she was hard to find among all the colorful clothes and faces, the Witch had to be the one wearing an outright dress. Unless it was one of those gender equality Barriers, but assuming complications everywhere is better left to the Vindicare.

After the initial shock, some of them drew little epees, trying to defend their lady's honor and life. I should say here, I was by far the tallest being in the room, so that was a bit comical, but those could leave a nasty wound. You know what they say about rapiers, foils, cords and smallswords: win the duel, bleed out on the way home. Still, their blades were tiny, and their legs short. There was too much of a difference in reach for them to even get a shot at me.

They tried. Where humans would open me a respectful ring of blades, leaving the directions from which the attacks came ambiguous, these knightly masked gentlemen did their best to cover me as a tide, as mercilessly to their own as only nobles could.

There was no way to fight it for long, so I leapt up, grabbing onto the ornate chandelier with one hand, surveying the familiars from above. Their blades were already raised, ready to receive my fall, and far beyond the wave I've fought, further than I could jump, there was this place's mistress, wearing the mask of some kind of a bug.

Her dress black, yellow and golden, this may have been some sort of a reference to the Austrian empire, but more than anything, it made her look like a wasp. You would think she considered herself a queen bee in this room, but there were no female courtiers to content with, and her form wasn't the fat one of a queen or a bumblebee, and had none of the plain conical efficiency of a drone. The sharp looking edges all over the dress made her definitely a wasp, or a hornet, and Wasp Witch sounded better to me.

Already, those gentlemen were climbing the ballroom's airy curtains, and somehow, I guessed they would try to swing at me from the thick ribbons which tie those together. It is such a courtly thing to do, so I had to be first.

I figured it would be hard to move the chandelier, but in just a few moves, I managed to give it a nice swing. All that remained was to cut the chain, and so I did, wreaking havoc among the assorted courtiers, and stomping over their heads. The high ground let me leap over their blades, and go for the kill.

Of course, it wasn't going to be so easy, but, halfway there. Rather than dodging my blow, as wasps are wont to do before jabbing you back, she blocked it with her bug hands, and one blow wasn't enough. It sent her tumbling down the hall, clearing a path in her servants for me to follow. I wouldn't give her a chance to stand up. In an eye-blink, I landed another hit, and she crashed through the hall's gate, into the garden.

As was scenically fitting, right in the middle of the garden was a fountain, and so she, who went through the middle of it, had to hit it. On the statue of Aquarius which made it's middle, I caught her with my black blade's tip, and this time she could not slip.

...

The world returned to normal, and I realized there had to be her Grief Seed somewhere in the garden. Naturally, it would be near the real fountain, though I had to walk a bit around. There it was, and under it, was an envelope, with a hand-written letter sticking out of it. Under the fountain was a girl's body, completely dead, but I almost didn't care about her at the moment.

What the hell? Without thinking, I took it and read it.What could have been so important that this girl's will let it persist beyond her death? It's said that the local hunters sometimes 'drop' their favorite sword, thus adding to the impression that some of our blades are ancient, and it wasn't the first time I'd seen something other than a Grief Seed, or the occasional intact body of the person, be left after a Barrier breaks down. With curiosity own to the Officio, that you wouldn't really expect of me despite that, my eyes ran along the lines:

"This is my will. I dedicate these words to the hunter who shall retire me. Please visit my apartment, at XXXXXXX, -BEFORE- my belongings are returned to the family. It is of grave importance. Let them have my money, but they cannot claim her. She also needs to be seen to daily, the Officio process takes too long."

I realized I stood on something hard, and lifted my foot to reveal a key chain. The thick double cross one was her locker at the Fencing Hall, which would make the other two her house keys. Very tidy death overall, no loose ends, I thought.

That said, I looked back to the letter, was her little sister staying at her house? Did they have a bad family history of some sort? Could you refuse?

...

Sooner than the called-in girls working for Jackdaw could drag the body from the bushes, I already sat in a tram to where internet told me this girl lived. There was a one hundred percent chance I'd get lost right on the nose of the place, wandering alleyways, checking street numbers from the other side, walking through an underpass to see if some dummy in an office didn't let the street continue past the cutoff by royal decree that had never been abolished - but such is Prague. Or maybe I get lost in thoughts and pass the right one that often.

A bit of the wholly expected wandering eventually led me to the foot of a humble functionalist apartment complex. The time of day meant housewives taking clothes off the dryers and waving them around, making the building seem much more colorful than it really was.

I let my finger wander among the names behind the bells, before realizing how stupid that was, considering I had no idea which of these was the right one. It turned out this girl didn't really think her master plan through all that well.

"Thirty two names... that's fifteen and half wrong guesses. At least I am not knocking."

This was an ordeal for someone so shy, but I could not very well turn back at this point. It occurred to me, as I tried the different locks, how often my own keys appear to not work before they do, and so I prayed I would not have to go all the way up and back again. In the end, the key turned out to be turnable in a lock on the fourth floor. The door had a big glass piece in it, letting me peek in a bit, but it barely looked like someone lived inside. Even my place is less spartan.

What I heard from inside was not the warmth of human voice welcoming their sister home, but something rather unexpected instead: A dog barking against the foul and alien-smelling intruder. He, or she, spared no time getting right in my face. It took a bit of staring - alright, about ten minutes of making gestures at the dog to calm down - before I could enter.

With the canine native still growling, I took a look around. There were some shoes in the locker, but none seemed like everyday ones. Going further, there was a large double bed, a sink full of bloody bandages that the apparent Eversor was too lazy to throw out, a shelf with four harlequin novels on it, and very little else. Hell, the fridge was almost empty. Maybe she went out for groceries too, before she met misfortune, or maybe she was on some other kind of a road to improve her living conditions.

Anyway, I had to face the reality of the situation: Her request in the letter concerned nothing else but her dog. Naturally, she couldn't take it on the hunt. Just as naturally, she would not want it to starve in her apartment in the event that she had died. Things all fell in the place, and the person left behind, me, would ponder, leaning on her kitchen table, how to proceed.

For some reason, though, there was a small notebook and a plastic ruler here, under my hand. It's white top page blended into the bland room, so it must have escaped my notice. Seeing some inks on the sides of the pages, I opened it thoughtlessly, revealing quite the messed up account.

Records of distances. Smallish ones, in millimeters, rarely more than ten. I studied math, so I could somewhat make sense of this, and see the pattern. At first, she'd record '0,1' even five days in a row before going to '0,2'. Slowly, the progression of numbers quickened, and eventually, the huge underline that separated each set of numbers would not appear once per page, but three or four times.

My very own soul slipped into my hand. I stared at it absentmindedly, suddenly worried, checking if I even spent any of my power on the battle at all. The sludgy, gassy mass at the center of it was tiny, but I could see the thin tendrils of corruption spread themselves from the center. They say it's terminal if you can actually see them, but I already knew that. If there's anything I can compare it to, it's like watching my drunkard uncle's teeth rot away in quick motion. Not a pretty sight, it filled my guts with disgust.

An urge suddenly came to me to throw it away - a bit like the urge to fall when you stare down from a roof. But, with the chain around the neck, that motion would be too much of a bother.

Such grim thoughts went through my head, when I fastened the easy-to-find leash on the dog. It wiggled, as if trying to break out, but its previous spirit was just not there. It could be that being taken on a leash represented something particular for the dog. Good, or bad. It knew I was taking it out, and it wanted to be taken out, but it also knew that this is not right, it has never smelled me before and other humans aren't supposed to be able to get in like that, and since I was so calm about it, maybe something very special was going on.

On the other hand, it was probably really sick of living in this apartment. We're not so different, you and I.

...

"I, uh, am not sure how to treat that." The Callidus at the gate eyed the dog suspiciously. "Is that a breach of security?"

"It is a dog." I handled the four words sentence.

"Yeah. It's super scared being so deep down. You can tell. Where are you taking it?" She stared at it in disbelief.

"To the Librarium. Make sure to check it's not..." it took me a moment to find what I thought would fit the situation the most "...a magic dog."

The Callidus looked at it carefully, no doubt putting every bit of her magic in so as to make the correct judgement.

"It's a dog." She concluded. "Wait here, alright? Step away from the gate, like, go all the way over there. And turn off your phone. And anything electric you have turned on." The Callidus disappeared in the booth, rummaging through a locker inside, searching for a certain odd box.

"If you have like an electric heart, this is your last chance." she reemerged with a ridiculous notion. "Magic won't save you. Stop grinning like that, prosthetics are a big hit these days."

Seeing the phone in my hand, turned off, she nodded, walked up to the dog, who backed away, probably confused about the whole thing as anyone would be. With a flick of a switch, the device emitted an EMP pulse so strong it basically lit up the cave. Needless to say, the dog didn't like that at all, barking back at the Callidus, but it didn't actually hurt him. I hope.

"Not a robot dog." She sighed. "You can take it in, but don't hold me responsible for people making up no dog rules."

It's pretty reasonable she'd be concerned about wires and recorders, but even I thought going that far was insulting. Wouldn't cats be popular with Vanus, for example? You would do that once, and get a faceful of claw, a busted cat container, and a cat eternally wandering Prague's underground, living on the bountiful pests in there, not to starve, but never to see light again. What is she going to do when a delegation from the Sixth comes that will need to be let in, tell them you have to make sure they have no bugs?

...

The Incubator answered to my genuflecting form without delay: "Euthanize it."

I'll admit I largely did this to find out whether the dog would take a liking to Mr. Woland, or maybe chase him around like a cat. Maybe he would even wave his tail, and it would turn out that the sour mancat is in fact a big fan of animals, even if dogs still eat dog food.

No result there. The dog didn't seem to notice his presence at all. You know, just like normal humans do. Figures, it was the dog of a Magical Girl, it wasn't what I suppose you would call a Canis Magi.

"While human tolerance for potential predators as tribe mates is admirable, as clear from the many other vertebrae they have managed to submit, exploit, and coexist with sans our help," Juunibey went on, "and even looking at our own cooperation at the present juncture, even so, you should be able to recognize an alliance that has lost its meaning." His own tail wagged in annoyance. Apparently cats and dogs get into a lot of misunderstandings because cats wag tails when nervous or angry, while dogs wag tails when excited and happy, so maybe it's good that dog couldn't see him.

I knelt before the Incubator, trying to plead for its life, but stuttered, as always when it matters.

He interrupted me. "This is not Incubator business. She cannot use him anymore, and neither can you. I am frankly amazed this is somehow up to discussion. Get rid of it. Ideally lethally, but finding a new owner is fine. I never want to be called up over a dog again."

With that, I left his office, and closed the door after myself. Letting my thoughts be my own again, it dawned on me that he did, in fact, leave me with a very, very slight loophole that allowed me a way to get back on him. In my mind began brewing a cunning plan.

...

Aneta Xavier, honored and accomplished Librarian of Twelfth, woke up to the sound of barking. and realized that there is a dog running all around the Silent Room. I can only imagine what her subsequent stream of consciousness was like, but she did not comment on the dog. It wasn't eating any papers, so it was probably okay, and Francesca was already handling my report, letting her continue pretending I wasn't a person that actually existed and remained in her employ. It helped that she was already grouchy from that time the other day, when a Portuguese copy of Tome of the Shieldmaiden fell on her from a top shelf.

Franesca, meanwhile, was taking care of the papers. She seemed all in for the idea, which was surprising, considering how incredibly illegal it was.

I do not have much to lose, to put it bluntly. For her, though, this would be a sacrifice. We were violating a direct order, after all. Even if we were pretty confident the Incubator would not attempt to waste his magical apparatus on figuring out the truth behind something so petty, even if Francesca could hide behind plausible deniability and I'd shield all the blame, this was probably the most selfish act I'd ever seen her do.

Now, wait a minute, a thought creeped into my mind. She could not possibly, actually, be doing this for me. It's only natural that everyone likes dogs. I know our Vanus, and she was one hundred percent one of them. The only thing you would get for free from them is a fine, and the things they are obligated to provide you with tend to be hard enough to wrestle out of the Administratum already.

She aced the final signature, and handed me the papers.

"It's not like I am doing this just because... or anything. Don't get the wrong idea."

Just because I am going to die soon. It only made me feel crappier that she did not say it. Not much for these hot'n'colds.

"What about..." I tried to put my feelings into the correct words, and failed as usual. "...What about me?"

"Excuse me?" She tilted her head.

"What about me as a person?"

That wasn't enough to make it make sense to the Vanus, but to her merit, she tried to. "Is this all, uh, actually personal for you somehow?"

Should I have spoken my mind freely, I really prayed that the Librarian coughing on her cold tea on the other  sofa over would not understand or hear it all.

"I don't want.... to be taken pity on." My eyes narrowed, as the matter past them searched for the correct words. "I am doing this because... because of how I am." Franesca seemed to understand then, watching me sadly. There were so many things she knew she could not say. So many words we had to leave unspoken between us.

Yes, I knew, she was only doing this because she thought it may well be my last wish. Yes, she knew, this wasn't the way I ever wished for people to see me. I should have realized that sooner. Yes, I knew, if I refused this mercy out of misplaced pride, then I would get nothing.

If I ever live again, I thought as I drank my own cup to the bottom, I want to have more friends.

I guess that's what they call poetry. Life as a composition, life as a theorem, life as a riddle. It's a petty last wish, to save a dog. Maybe if my first wish was this petty, then the last one would not have had to be.

...

I sat on the train to Pilsen, and watched the dog, ticket stuck in its collar. It would be too much of a bother to get one of those leather maw cages for it, so hopefully I wasn't breaking any rules. It wasn't aggressive at least, instead observing the humans in the coupé, mostly old people, picking up their old people smells, and trying to beg out a treat.

A man with a cart pushed it by the door, offering horribly overpriced coffee, which I could just about use then, and various similarly expensive pastries. At the bottom of the cart, I saw some jerky, so I bought that from him. Right as the man left, and I offered my companion the first strip of dried meat, this elderly lady sitting across me, who gave him a piece of sausage just moments ago, looked me square in the eyes.

"That is not your dog, is it?"

My cover was blown, so after my prolonged shocked "eeeeh!?", I asked her how she knew. To that, she insisted, it's very simple.

"Everyone who has a pet knows not to spoil it. It's a lot like having a child. You can't give him the meat and not eat most of it herself. You can't give him the first one, either." She sounded a bit angry for some reason, even though I just told her I wasn't it's master.

She went on. "You see young mothers letting their children take the only place on the bus, and then they stand next to them. That is so wrong."

This was pretty new to me, and a bit depressing to be completely honest, so I asked, dumbly, whether they're supposed to let the kid stand.

"That's wrong too." the kind gentleman, who was probably her husband, told me. "You are supposed to sit first, and then seat the kid on your lap."

Upon a bit of pondering, that was surprisingly deep. I ended up thinking about it all the rest of the way. It seemed like I just found the key to happiness, once I thought about it long enough.

A parent or a master has the responsibility to have their child, pet, or servant, live a happy life. This inevitably means providing contrast, or they become spoiled, and when everything is fun, nothing is. At the same time, they should make them feel cared for. I suppose this means making the dog's life bland, so that it could be happy to be taken out.

That was still a bit of a worm in my head, while leaving the train, dog happily going out first before it remembered the leash. Not the fun things not being fun part, but the purpose of it all. I knew many girls in my life who seemed happy and their families were loving and rich. Those weren't my Magical Girl friends, of course. Rather, though, the meaning would be, what mentality does it instill in the kid and the dog? It's still pretty harsh and hard to justify then.

Before I knew it, I found the building, and the present Squad Leader in charge of the cell in question had accepted the leash as well as Francesca's paper with a completely baffled expression. It was her third take at trying to read the paper, and by then I could see the gears turn in her head as she wondered whether she really wants to call her Incubator, and open the call with "I want to confirm that you really sent us a doggo."

I did not let the door hit me on my way out, and thus concluded the tale of my rare act of rapscallionery. But as for the old woman's riddle, I figured it out in the end. Here I write down the wisdom I came to at the brink of my life.

That is, blandness, suffering, and love all exist to encourage us to seek happiness. If you want your child, or anyone you are in charge of, to leave the nest soon, and carve out their own destiny, the greatest honor they could give you, the best you can do is be just harsh enough. A life worth living is just harsh enough.

It's still difficult not to think of my life as too harsh, but when you look at it from this angle, becoming a Magical Girl wasn't too bad. It was an expression of this desire. I wouldn't have done it if I wasn't bored, I wouldn't have done it if I didn't have pain to get away from... and I also would not have done it if I hadn't been loved just a little bit. It's puzzling, but true.

Just like the old lady who fed the dog a sausage, the greatest parts of my life were outside factors. Just like the dog, I wouldn't get the sausage if I didn't ask for it.

I hope the dog will remember me as something that was fun. And everyone else, too. I really, really hope so.