The Endless Mother-Daughter Chain

A month ago, I woke up on the floor of the grimy bathroom of Fat Slice pizza on Telegraph Ave., in Berkeley.

There was a Amoeba records red and yellow plastic bag over my head, so I tore it off before I started to freak out. My breath literally smelled like shit.

I was wearing a black hoodie and purple-grey leggings, and my pockets were filled with a few thousand dollars in scrunched up 20s.

I didn’t realize I was dead just yet, but I was.

Joey and Gabby tried to explain it to me, but I was in such a fog that I just didn’t get it until after they extracted my WOFA data. Until I could see for myself what had happened on the night of July 4, 2011.

I was either throwing up a lot, or wanting to hurl most every morning. Gabby just smiled and gave me lots of supportive hugs – she’s a real guardian angel.

Really. She’s assigned to me while I get back on my feet, projecting in from elsewhere in the Structure. She’s supposed to show me the ropes, and look out just in case something goes wrong.

Joey is more of a busy body than anything else. He’s itching to get back to Emily, and once he saw the recording of the end of my journeys, he just about lost it. “What the fuck is going on?” he said, as he watched a healed Emily fold away at Point One. “How am I supposed to find her now?”

When I first got here, in this in between space made especially for me, he kept on teasing me, saying that all of my emergency binge eating had made me fat. I didn’t see it at first, but after a month it’s really become obvious.

No matter how diligent they tried to be, the Collective was only able to map certain parts of the US in adequate, obsessive detail. Fairview was one of those places, Berkeley another. Right now, I can only really hang out in those two places – the rest are not dense enough to tolerate my heavy spirit.

Sasha calls it my “beautiful burden”, and I’m likely to agree. She’s projected in a few times to check me over, and this morning she spent some extra time with her ear to my belly. “It totally sounds like her already!”

I don’t know about that – I can’t even feel her moving around yet.

Gabby says everything looks perfect from her end. She’s been really encouraging, but I’m afraid she might be a little starstruck, and not know how imperfect I can be.

Phone is much more convincing – he’s visited me the most lately. “You have such the cutest baby bump, I can tell she’s going to be a looker. Maybe not as cute as my girl, but let’s be real here.”

He likes to talk about his daughter a lot – the daughter he didn’t even know he had until after he died on the floor at the Die Database concert. He’s scheming, trying to find a way back to the land of the flesh to look after her, to save her, but the best he can do now is project in, and watch her from afar.

I wish I could leave with him, and Gabby, and Sasha, but they’re just visiting, and I’m like a comatose patient resting in a huge hospital bed. A bed big enough for BART stations and Fat Slice.

No one really knows how it happened. They’re happy with the whole “it’s prophecy” explanation, but I’m not much for scripture, even if it’s something I’m one of the main characters in.

I’m not a virgin, but a man has never touched me, either.

The only sex I’ve ever really had was with Miranda, and Aurora…. it was like making love to the Universe.

“You just have to call her Sarah,” Sasha said as she cuddled against my belly. I thought she was being ironic, but just now, as I compose this into the ether…

According to the stories, no one has ever held a Massive Cloud Burst that full except for me.

SAR.AI said I was “compatible” a few times, but I was just focused on taking care of Emily and Ai. Weren’t one one them supposed to be the big girl on campus?

Sarah was the first to be born alive in the Structure of the spirits…. that’s what Cassandra said.

Three months…. just what the hell did Helena and Cassandra do to me all that time?

What am I going to do with myself, and a daughter brighter than the Sun?

All the signs, and machines, and mantras, point to an on-time delivery in about 5 months, at Point Zero.

I just pray I’ll be dead long enough to see her into all worlds.

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