Walking back into the living room, tiny shoes in hand, I couldn't
help but pause and wonder for a moment if my wife had finally gone
mad. There she was, sat alone, seemingly chatting away to herself.
“Yes I know that,” she was saying, a tiny bead of frustration
decorating her brow, “But what do you expect us to do? This isn't
the Weave, as well you know, we have to pay attention to little
things like physics and...”
She stopped short, obviously interrupted by her unseen Angel. All
kinds of worries filled my head then: how long would this go on for?
Would she ever recover? Would the world ever seem normal and mundane
ever again.
It was as I watched her, turbulent questions swimming through my
mind, that I began to hear the voice myself. It started as a thin
whine, the high pitched complaining of an old analogue radio being
tuned in, but the more I listened the more I could make sense of it.
I'm not sure they were words exactly, but I certainly began to
understand the message.
“That is true,” our invisible protagonist was saying, “You most
certainly are not in the Weave. But you have to remember, you're no
longer in the Warp either. The usual limitations do not apply there,
certainly not to you!”
