Chapter 2: Human Duct Tape

“It… They’re still frowning,” the student noted, her earlier confusion replaced with curiosity.

The teacher’s gaze flickered back to my face at her student’s observation, before it drifted upwards in what appeared to be thought. “She’s a hollow? Maybe?”

Huh. My heart seemed to skip a beat out of what I could only presume was whiplash at their strange behavior. What on earth are they talking about? 

Fortifying myself with a deep breath, I spoke up. “Excuse me. What’s a hollow?”

“You are dearie,” the little old lady answered with a placating tone. “Blythe, could you please explain what a hollow is for our most topical acquaintance here?”

 Clearing her throat while she appeared to gather her thoughts, Blythe turned to better face her teacher.

“Umm… So a hollow is a fake human. Hollows, originally thought to be failed homunculi spawned by rogue alchemists and sorcerer’s experimental attempts at creating life, we now know they are in fact spun out by reality to fill gaps created by fractures or wounds in itself. Essentially they are scabs that form over the wound made from the raw essence of reality given human form. Hollows are generally considered soulless and emotionless automatons lacking the vital anima that makes humans, uh, well... human, and exist to patch damage in the very fabric of reality, often filling in the empty space created by that damage,” she recited as if remembering a lesson by rote.

Wow. I coughed lightly, to clear my throat. I’d inhaled a little too fast during that little speech and choked on some saliva. It’s not everyday you get called a soulless emotionless automaton. 

Ok yes, I’ll admit I have been called something to that effect at least once before. Surprisingly, once in every so while someone would actually show interest in getting to know me. Only to later either drift away, ghost me or become frustrated when I didn’t seem to warm up to them and become warm and social. Some even became antagonistic believing I was snubbing them.

The rest generally ignored my presence in the background, either barely noticing me or intentionally because they felt I was awkward or creepy. Not that I was really aware of any of this at the time having been on autopilot.

Ignoring me, the teacher continued to question her student as if she was conducting a pop quiz on previously covered content. “And what are the three primary causes of damage to the fabric of reality?”

“Tears due to violent incursions by demons and extraplanar beings, disasters involving time or planar magics and finally gross violations of the very laws of reality usually caused by rogue magic experiments,” Blythe confidently listed off.

Ok this was definitely a lesson for me, one that raised lots of other questions, but their behavior as if I wasn't here or that I was no more consequential than a stray dog was surprisingly causing me to feel annoyed.

“Excuse me! Enough with the school lessons, I’m right here!”

Glancing down at her feet and blushing at my outburst, the teacher proved herself to have the self awareness of her actions to look ashamed. 

“...this is supposed to be passive?”  Blythe quietly murmured to herself, before she flashed me an apologetic wince. “Sorry.”

“Yes, sorry dearie. That was impolite of us,” added the teacher. “Let me just say, you may have started out as a hollow, but it seems you have become something much more. Something rare and quite remarkable. So let me apologise once more and ask your name.”

“Right…” I replied, taken aback by the about face. “Uh, well… I’m Alex.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Alex. My name is Ester and this young lady beside me is one of my students; Blythe,” the teacher Ester reciprocated. “We are what you might call witches. I hope we will be able to get along as I believe you might be of great help to our investigation.”

Somehow, I had managed to successfully engage in social interaction and navigate my way through introductions. Even more amazing the dialogue continued. A back and forth ensued with Ester and occasionally Blythe asking questions with me answering. Occasionally, I even got to be the one asking a question! 

The questions I was asked included how far back my earliest memories went (eight years ago, early highschool), do my memories start in this town or did circumstances cause me to drift here, when did I first start seeking out emotional highs, how aware were I of my actions? Had I experienced strong emotions while alone or in a situation around others where I could be sure they were not empathetic echoes or reflections of surrounding people, but my own naturally provoked emotions?

Turns out, I am an exceptionally long-lived hollow at eight experienced years and that my age might explain my growth. 

As Ester described it reality is best explained as an expanding system of self maintaining and self repairing order that to some observers within it seems almost intelligent. That system exists within an ocean of endless and almost violently ever changing potential that spawned it. And if not for reality’s ability to maintain and repair itself, that same ocean would have torn it apart an instant after it formed in order to form anything else, everything else and nothing. 

“It’s everything you can see, hear, smell, taste, or touch and so much more, dearie. It is the entire universe and all dimensions within it. It’s a system of order constructed upon all that potential, so that it can progressively build upon itself without having to constantly deal with its previous work being torn down by endless chaotic change,” lectured Ester.

Apparently most tears or rips in reality that spawn hollows usually heal themselves within a few months or at absolute max a couple years. Then once reality has healed itself, the hollow that once helped patch the hole is no longer needed and almost always dies off via one manner or another soon after.

Yep, apparently hollows are… I am… Well, I’m the cryptid or humanoid equivalent of duct-tape. Why I am still around could be important to discovering what caused the pause/cyst to form and locating it.

Current working theory is that the damage that spawned me is either ongoing or that something else is aggravating the wound in reality preventing it from healing. Either way it suggests someone or something has been active and causing damage for at least that long. 

I am living, breathing scar tissue. I’m evidence left at the scene of the crime.

The pause, or as they call it, a cyst, is in a way related to hollows, they are both basically immune or healing responses to reality becoming damaged. I am just a small band aid that is applied over damage to cover and help it heal as everyone continues around it, a cyst is a much more drastic response intended for far more severe damage. 

The cyst formed around the town, causing the pause as it froze and isolated it from the rest of reality. It also made the town quietly disappear from the perspective of those outside. Forgotten, invisible and if someone was to drive along the road leading to the town they would end up on the other side without realising it.

As Blythe explained it at Ester’s prompting, a cyst is what happens when damage to reality becomes too great. That reality encapsulates the area of the damage in a cyst, freezing it and sealing it off from the rest of reality to try and prevent any further growth or spread of the damage. Containing it to prevent reality coming asunder until it can either heal itself or if necessary be cauterised. 

Yes, cauterised. 

That reality could be torn in the first place was a scary enough thought, that reality could freeze and seal off a portion of itself in response was scarier still, but the thought of reality deleting a place with everyone and everything in it as if they had never been was honestly terrifying. And I mean that literally, not as a figure of speech, I could definitely feel this fear in the pit of my stomach and across my clammy skin.

As to what was the source, the cause of this fear-inspiring phenomenon? 

“There would be more signs if this had been caused by demons or extraplanar beings especially over such a long period. Incidents resulting in magical disasters can also be ruled out given they are usually rare and isolated events caused by mistake or mischance and we suspect this has been long term. Right?” reasoned Blythe, looking to her teacher for confirmation.

“Exactly. That leaves a rogue sorcerer as the most likely cause. One doing Goddess only knows what sort of dangerous and probably vile acts to cause this much damage to the fabric of reality,” Ester confirmed. “There is little else to do, except search out their hiding place, then stop them and attempt to fix whatever they have done to break things so badly.”

Looking around at the large town surrounding us, I had only one thought.

Needle meet haystack.