.

.

.

Chapter 257: A Month to Think

.

Mar was having the time of her life, and it was only going to get better.

"You want me to be on a talk show?" she asked, bouncing slightly. "Really? And you want me to talk about science?"

When she was alive, she would have been far too shy and afraid of mistakes to accept, but now that she was dead, she couldn't be embarrassed to death. Plus, the way she gained sustenance now seemed to have rewired certain of her social behaviors. Being too worried about how you looked and acted to eat wasn't exactly a good survival strategy, after all.

Speaking of eating, the energy she could get from this would be massive. She was no Ember, she couldn't reach into every corner of reality to find her name, but even a studio audience was more than she usually could feed on. When she finally got back to her door, she'd probably have enough power to run it for ages.

Maybe she should leave it open and toll-free for a while and take a refresher at a university. Or, oh, she'd wanted to add another language to her repertoire since before she died. Death had automatically given her a ghost language to work with, but, in spirit, she was as sadly monolingual as she had been in life. She could visit the friends she'd made during the fight against the GIW, too. How exciting!

"You do seem to be an expert," said the woman, uncertainly, "and our viewers want to know more about your world."

"Compared to some people I know, I'm really not," said Mar. "My knowledge is mostly surface level. Layperson knowledge, really. Good for initial education purposes, but if all knowledge is an ocean, I'm a puddle. A kiddie swimming pool at best. Good for getting your feet wet but otherwise limited. I mean, I didn't die all that long ago. My original knowledge base was that of a high school science teacher – and a rather forgetful one at that. Dying improved my memory by a surprising degree. I think it's the difference in storage methods. It's sort of like solid state drives versus more traditional spinning magnetic disks. SSDs are less likely to lose things, break, or become corrupted, in my experience. In college my laptop's hard drive burnt out three times before I replaced it with an SSD. But there's also the 'image and double entry' theory posited by the High Neurologist of Ys, which posits that people who are aware of the function of the human brain also form a vestigial brain upon death which aids cognitive processes and improves retention of memories from life. There is some evidence for that, however the overall data isn't good because there's still quite a bit of resistance to examination of that sort and most of the people examined are associated with the University of Ys so it isn't exactly a good cross-section of the population in the first place, and there were the case studies of the Barreleye Brain and Mr. Mind – What were we talking about?"

"What times you would be available."

"Oh, right."

.

.

.

"That seems like a rather severe time limit for people who are essentially immortal," said the president.

"A month is plenty of time to make a decision, I should think," said Jazz. "I expected you to jump on this, Mr. President, what with how insistent you've been on getting them back."

"Normally, I would agree, but we've barely scraped the surface of what our relationship will be going forward. Not to mention the price your people are setting."

Jazz briefly glanced at Sojourn for guidance, but he seemed preoccupied by something. Hopefully, it wasn't Dimitri getting into some kind of trouble.

"That is why we're giving you a month. The fact of the matter is that our prison system is not nearly as well-developed as those that exist here. One of the more common punishments is, in fact, banishment. Add to that the strain of providing food and sanitation services to the prisoners, and you get an unsustainable situation."

"But it isn't unsustainable for Amity Park?"

"Well, you see, we like Amity Park. We're also using preexisting infrastructure, and ghosts that would balk at donating to prisoners on trial for their assault on one of the foundations of their world see no issue engaging in free trade with morally upright humans." She paused, considering her next words. "Then, there is also the example of ghosts like Irving to think about."

The president blinked. "I hadn't been aware that there was anything particularly unusual about Irving."

"In many ways, there isn't," said Jazz with a shrug. "He is, perhaps, a little stronger than most ghosts his age, but he isn't a huge outlier. No. What makes him significant in this conversation is that he was killed by the GIW, shortly before they dropped that missile on us." She had Irving's permission to bring this up, but it still felt uncomfortable to do so. She hid her unease by taking a sip of her drink.

To his credit, the president controlled his reaction well.

"I'm sorry to hear that. I hadn't realized ghosts could form so quickly." Meaning his advisors had led him to believe otherwise, most likely.

"It does take longer in ectoplasm-poor environments," said Jazz, "and ghosts from those areas usually form directly in the Ghost Zone. But Amity Park has always had higher than usual levels of ectoplasm. He's not the only casualty of that day."

"Excuse me," said the first lady, "and I hope I'm not being rude, but shouldn't he be testifying against the GIW in that case? Assuming I've understood the ghosts' legal system correctly."

"Ah, no," said Jazz. "At the time he was killed, neither he nor the GIW agent that killed him were citizens of the Infinite Realms, and Amity Park, while under Prince Phantom's protection, was not officially a member of the Realms, unlike now. Thus, the murder was outside the jurisdiction of our courts. Now, if we do indeed turn our GIW prisoners to you, I'm sure all those killed by the GIW will want to press charges in your courts."

"I see. In that case, they would have been prosecuted for his murder if Amity Park had been a member of the Infinite Realms?"

"Yes, but by local courts. Generally, Libra only prosecutes the three great Taboos, and under current precedent humans killing one another doesn't fall under that. Although, that may certainly change."

"So, Irving, and the others the GIW killed in Amity Park have no recourse for justice if you don't release the captive GIW to US custody?"

"Well," said Jazz, "considering the Taboo crimes they did participate in, it is unlikely they will survive their punishments if we do not come to some agreement regarding an exchange of prisoners. IF they do, however, it is probable their victims will petition the Feathers for, well, my understanding is that they deal with a lot of non-criminal dispute resolution and things equivalent to tort law, in addition to their own investigations into Taboo violations." She glanced at Sojourn. She would have expected him to jump in by now. "But to get to that point requires many what-ifs. I'm sure you'd prefer to enjoy the festivities, and we can revisit all this when we next meet officially."

Jazz stood up and subtly indicated the door of the small side-room they had met in.

"Of course," said the president. "You've given us a lot to think about, Miss Fenton."

"Better than the alternative, isn't it?" What was that even supposed to mean? She kept a smile on her face until they left.

Then she collapsed back on the couch and let out a deep sigh. She was probably wrinkling her dress and would regret it later, or at least be self-conscious about it. For now, however…

"Sojourn?" she said. "Did something happen?"

"My apologies," said Sojourn. "My focus was on Dmitri."

"Is he okay?"

"He's fine. A little shaken, but fine. I'll explain later. I'm going to have to step away for a moment. We have a delivery to make to the Ghost Zone."

.

.

.

Danny crossed his arms and glared at Lydia. He was more than half tempted to turn her over to the Cirque de Guerre.

(Were they still calling themselves that, now that they were no longer actively fighting? Were they still together as a group? He'd have to find out.)

He didn't like Lydia. Didn't like how she loomed next to Freakshow in red-tinted memories. Didn't like the way she participated in Freakshow's abuses.

On the other hand, he could understand attachment to those known in life. He couldn't hate her for that.

On the other hand, he didn't feel any obligation to stop Damien from poking her with a broom handle.

"You're really working with the mind control guy?" he asked. "Really? I mean, that sounds like a bad move, overall."

"You're doing so well with the interrogation," said Fright Knight.

Okay, Danny changed his mind. "Guys… she's mute."

"Is she really, though?" Damien poked her again. "Can ghosts be mute?"

"I've never actually heard her say anything, so I'm tending towards yes."

"Sign language?" asked Fright Knight. "Should we get an interpreter in here?"

"I mean, maybe. I know ASL, but…" Danny shrugged. Lydia seemed disinclined to sign. Or write, for that matter.

But, then, Danny supposed that's what interrogation was for.

He sighed.

"Look, Lydia, we are not actually interested in beating Freakshow up."

"We aren't?" asked Fright Knight.

"Okay, well, maybe a little bit. But, point is, we're willing to put that to the side, so long as he doesn't break any Taboos. Our main goal right now is making sure he doesn't hurt anyone else or disrupt the peace talks with the human world." Lydia didn't seem particularly moved, but hopefully what he was about to say would change that. "But we've got to assume he's going to do that. So, I've got a couple of options here. Option one, the one you'll hate, is I go ahead and send the Cirque de Guerre off with some aglaophotis. You know they hate him and hate him a lot. Option two is that you tell us what he's up to, what he's planning, and we take a more nuanced approach."

Of course, that more nuanced approach might be anything from kidnapping him, to sending an even larger, angrier, group after him, to tattling to the president, to strolling down to the assassins' guild-

(Did the Realms have an assassins' guild? It was enough of a fantasy staple that it wouldn't surprise him. He'd have to look into it.)

(Mostly to try to make it go away.)

(Mostly.)

"If you know sign language, you can do that, or we can get some pencil and paper in here. Either way, not telling us what you know is only going to result on us being harder on Freakshow, so it'll be better for him if you do tell."

"Not to mention, he's going to die some day, and we're going to stick around," said Damien. He looked at Danny. "That is the way it works, right?"

"Yep," said Danny. "No way to guarantee someone will become a ghost." Except for the Pilgrimage, but he wasn't going to mention that to Lydia. Freakshow would be absolutely insufferable if he ever learned about it.

Of course, he was already insufferable and generally a terrible person. So. Yeah. Telling him in general was a no.

"Not even for a human as obsessive as Freakshow," he continued. "Hanging on is hard. I'm sure you know that, Lydia."

Lydia glared up at him, still silent.

"Right," said Danny. "Well. We'll leave you to think about it."