Quoted By:
>BIG ONE
>Success!
...It's impossible.
You're trying. Nobody can say you're not. You're heaving and hoing and it's doing nothing, or worse than it: all your exertion is funneled purely into keeping the reel in place. If you let go, that'd be the end of it: the fish would win, the rod would go flying, and given your precarious circumstances you would too. You've survived a long fall into dark water before, but survival isn't your main concern— well, maybe. If there's a huge fish down there, you might bug out. Really bug out. You're still skeptical of this fish-brain thing, but you're definitely part beetle, and your gut does <span class="mu-i">not</span> like natural predators.
If only beetles were adapted for fishing, right? Or for anything. As much peace as you've made with the changeover (surprisingly, lots), you do wonder about landing something cooler. More useful, at least. If you got stuck in a bird loc, maybe you wouldn't fly like shit. If you were an otter or something, maybe you wouldn't fish like shit. You're remembering the downsides of human muscles. Warren always said you should lift weights. Why didn't you? How does Teddy do this? Is he secretly jacked?
How does Teddy do this? You should know. Not like he told you— you should <span class="mu-i">know.</span> It should be flowing seamlessly through you, same as you with Them. You could still be there now, welcomed, wanted, the happiest you'll ever (this is a fact) be in your life, your sad pathetic life, however long it lasts, and now you're here, because you couldn't hack it in reality and you can't hack it in your own brain, either. The only time you ever hacked it is while you were dead. You think Teddy is the only reason you didn't lose it, or try to go back. He's definitely the reason you didn't blame Lottie more. As is, there's a splinter lodged under your skin, and maybe it'll always be there. You'll never say anything. You're not trying to be mean. But if she tries to ditch you for paradise, she can bet her ass you're yanking her back: if you get a life sentence, she does too.
In the first few hours with Teddy around, it was seamless. It wasn't like he was jammed onto you, a tumor or a weird sub-brain. He filled you in. Like you had an exposed bunch of wires up there, bare drywall, and he did the insulation. It was like— like you had a certain square footage up there before, and all of a sudden it doubled, and you could wander out into new rooms and attics and things. It was cool. After you got over the initial cold shock, though, it all started to feel a little too open-plan. Embarrassing, frankly. Like a big white mansion got built around a shed. Teddy's still there, but at a length, and that's good.
Except when you need to fish. One upside to your awful rumination habit is that you kind of forget where you are, and that you're sweating through your shirt— eugh. No update on the fish thing, by the way: you and it are evenly matched. (Your thoughts flash to Other Gil.)
(1/3)
