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Back A Fractured Infinity Save as PDF
Chapters (41)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. Acknowledgements
  41. About the Author

I dumped my duffel onto the bed and out tumbled Genesis’s tarot deck, Scarlett, and my laptop, hidden among my socks and spare T-shirts. I filmed just about all my work on Scarlett, while everyone else used small armies of multi-angle vid drones. I was lo-fi out of a lack of coin more than anything else, though I loved the weight of the camera in my hands, her lens watching everything like an extension of my own eyes.

I’ve interviewed a ton of people. Beautiful fucked-up artists and a squad of queer cowfolk for a doc called I Never Left You for a Banjo about trying to make it in the rodeo circuit. Women who smuggled birth control into End-Days Saints communes before they escaped with their kids because they wanted their daughters to learn to read and their sons to learn to feel. None of them really wanted to be the face of a movement, except Genesis who’d told me as much as she painted the flat, gray planes of her face with a peachy brown California tan.

I’d always lived behind the camera. I didn’t want to be in the spotlight, but something—maybe dangerous, or at the very least deeply fucking weird—was going on here. If I was connected to it in some way, I had a responsibility to try to find out as much as I could.

I set my camera on the edge of my desk and turned her lens to face me. Her red eye blinked as she listened while I spilled everything.

7

CIRCLING

Yusuf checked up on me the next morning—sent by Kaori, I figured—and took me for breakfast in the cafeteria. He also admitted she didn’t know what to do with me. Chartering another plane to fly me out wasn’t on the table because they didn’t have the funding. I was getting cold feet after my you need to stay here and document everything bravado from the night before, after I’d searched my white closet of a room for bugs and turned up nothing. I was still close with the synth community in Boston and could reach out to them for help if I really needed. Taking a cue from the Storyteller voice’s soothing rumble about something brewing, I told Yusuf I was fine hanging out here.