Previously on
CRISIS
The final battle has been won. The forces of evil have been defeated; their threat to the universe has ended. In the process of defeating them, the forces of good find themselves in a strange place...
T
"Uh, just where the hell are we?" Marco asked. "And do you know that dude?"
"Yeah," Taylor admitted, rubbing the back of her head. "He's... well..."
"The boy with the typewriter," Shinji mumbled. "They weren't lying."
"Actually, I use a computer," the Author replied, chuckling. He extended a swarthy hand to Taylor. "It's nice to finally talk to you like this. I mean, it's not quite face to face, but it's the closest we'll get."
"Likewise," Taylor said, shaking the Author's hand.
"You know him?" Amy asked.
"I'm with Panacea on this one," the Batman said. "Explain. Now."
"That's why we're here, isn't it?" the Author declared, spreading his arms wide. "Come on downstairs, I have some tea boiling on the kettle."
With that, he brushed past the group and into the hall, old stairs creaking beneath his feet. Taylor followed after him first, and the rest joined in after a moment's hesitation.
The living room had salmon pink walls, with large windows on one side that let in the sunlight, exposing dust motes in the sunbeams. Eren's group was there, sitting on the furniture, along with the crews of the Dwarf and the Bastard. Toji and Kensuke were also there, Asuka and Yui standing nearby, while a humanoid suit of Dragon inspected family photos.
"Who's the kid?" Louis asked, looking up from a tattered book.
"He'll explain," Taylor replied.
"Come into the kitchen; I'm making tea," the Author said.
They did so. A small Siamese kitten trotted into the kitchen, rubbing up against everyone's legs, only to be ushered out by an older black longhair, which followed it into the hall. Taylor glanced at them, then glanced outside, peering through the walls to see the kaiju standing outside. They had shrunk, becoming much smaller, but they were still tall enough to crowd the large backyard of the house.
The Author took the kettle off the stove and poured some boiling water into a large mug. Steam rose into the air, carrying the smell of mint.
"Would anyone care for some tea? I have lemon, mint, Earl Grey, and Irish breakfast."
"I'll take some," Taylor said. "Earl Grey, please."
"Same here," Levi added. "I haven't had a good cup in a week."
The Author poured them tea as well, then leaned against the kitchen counter. Despite the absurd group staring at him, he was calm, at ease.
"Alright, where do you want to start?"
"The beginning, preferably," the Batman said.
"Yeah, are we dead or something?" Marco asked. "Purgatory?"
The Author took a sip of his tea. "That'd be a lame cop-out. No, this is still the heart of reality, where you guys just defeated Darkseid. This is a little meeting ground between two very different places."
"Are you God?"
Everyone turned to look at Shinji. The boy fidgeted uncomfortably, but raised his head to look the Author in the eye.
"Are you the one in charge of everything? The puppet-master, the one who controls all of us for drama?" he reiterated.
The Author set down his mug. "No, I'm not God. I'm not even a mystical being or any of that stuff; I'm just a high-school student studying to be a physicist. I practice being a writer on the side."
"Do you write our stories?" Jake asked. "I mean, I know Siegel and Shuster wrote Superman first where we're from-"
"-and that's the case where I live as well," the Author interrupted. "Your Earth is the one most like mine, though we aren't being invaded by Yeerks. It's 2016 for me, right now. Same with Shinji and Superwoman."
"Curious," Yama murmured. "You seem quite knowledgeable about all of us."
"Well, I'm big fans of all of you," the Author replied. "Let's head outside; fresh air and walking helps me think better. I'll explain it more to you."
He took one last sip of his tea and walked through the next door, where the backyard was. Godzilla paused in the act of emptying an old shed and glanced at the Author, head cocked.
"Easy," the Author coaxed, warily stepping up to the King of the Monsters, his eyes wide with wonder. He placed a hand on the kaiju's warm flank, giving it a firm pat. "Easy."
Godzilla snorted, then rested on his haunches, letting the warm sunlight warm him. He closed his eyes, a rather peaceful look on his face.
"You're taking an awful long time to talk," Eren muttered, his voice low. "We're in a bit of a hurry, in case you haven't noticed."
The Author turned to face the group standing in the yard, still smiling. "There isn't a rush, actually. Time has no meaning here; we could spent a century talking, and no one on the outside would notice."
He sighed. "But I know you're burning for answers. Alright, let's break it down a bit, starting with the important stuff. No, I don't control your lives. I'm not some cruel controlling dude or whatever, playing with your pain and suffering for drama. I can simply see and watch what goes on."
"From your Earth?" Jake asked.
"Yep. Just like how writers on your Earth can make stories about universes you know to be real. I mean, Superwoman is right next to you, dude, and you just teamed up with the goddamn Batman. Now, my Earth... my Earth is strange."
A wooden wheel formed in the Author's hands, and he held it up for everyone to see.
"Imagine this wheel is the multiverse. The space between each set of spoke is an entire worldline, extending till the end of time. The heart of reality, where everything is in junction, is like the hub."
A stick materialized from out of nowhere, and he placed it through the hub.
"My Earth, my entire worldline, is the axle."
"I feel like someone put a grenade in my head," Tobias mumbled, a hand on his head.
"Yeah, it's wicked confusing," the Author admitted.
"Wicked?" Yama inquired.
"Sorry, it's a colloquialism from where I live. My writing style and my actual dialogue are not exactly the same."
"Especially with that accent," Shinji said. "Why do you pronounce 'computer' like 'computah'?"
"Because he's from-" Taylor began, only to glance back at the Author. "Never mind. I don't think he'd like the readers to know that."
"How long did you know about this?" Amy asked. "Aren't spouses supposed to tell each other stuff like this?"
"Superman can see the fourth wall," Marco quipped. "He used to wink at the reader at the end of every comic. Aaaand now it all makes sense."
"Yeah," Taylor winced, sparing Amy a glance. "I've seen the readers for a while."
"How long?"
Another wince. "Since before we got married."
"How about a change of scenery?" the Author asked loudly, clapping his hands together. "Follow me."
He walked to the fence, grass staining his feet, and swung a door open. A beach lay on the other side, where one hadn't been a moment earlier. Waves crashed onto the shore, leaving seaweed on the wet sand, and the sun burned hot in a cloudless blue sky. Godzilla strode past the Author and dived into the water, the other kaiju joining him. When he surfaced, he was full size again, free from the confines of the backyard.
"I come to this beach all the time during the summer," the Author said, sitting down on the sand and letting the waves wet his feet. "Now, where was I?"
"Explaining the whole thing to them," Taylor said. "Shinji looks like he's about to have an existential breakdown."
"Fair enough. Basically, our realities can never interact, in the strictest sense of the word. That's why we can only meet here, a bridge between our various existences. I can never actually visit Earth Bet, or whatever Earth you live on, just as how you can't actually come to my world and mess stuff up."
He glanced down at the water, watching his reflection distort in the waves.
"But we can see each other. That's what happens when someone writes a story. They see the people living in some other land, and they call them characters. They see a struggle, a genuine problem for you, and call it conflict, and they write about it, dramatizing it where needed."
"But you seem to understand every story, even the stories about stories," Shinji said. "What if you're actually wrong, and we're just fictional?"
The Author rose to his feet. He looked into Shinji's eyes, his own brow furrowed.
Then he slapped him in the face.
"Seem pretty real to me," the Author said. "Come on, let me show you something else."
Once again the scenery changed. They stood in a grassy field, fringed on all sides by trees. The sun was setting, casting a beautiful orange light on the horizon, and already some stars were visible. A large screen lay at the edge of the field, near the trees, and the group could see that a movie was starting to play.
"Every summer, when I was a kid, I'd go to the drive-in with my family," the Author said. "It's an hour drive, but we'd always do it when we had the opportunity. Cheaper than a normal theater. I loved the fresh air, and watching the sunset, and then we'd enjoy the movie. When the air grew colder, and summer drew to an end, they'd play older movies. One of them was this."
A fanfare began to play, one that the Animorph's recognized, as did Shinji's group. A symbol came onto the screen, and Taylor's breath caught.
"I remember the first time I watched Superman, and believed that a man could fly," the Author said. "Stories are more than just stories. They give us hope, they teach us lessons. They make us look into ourselves. Do you know how much you guys have influenced me with your adventures, your struggles? In the space of my mind, and countless other minds, you might as well be real, even if it's only in spirit."
"Pretty mind-boggling," Lister murmured, scratching his chin thoughtfully.
"Actually, it seems like something Grant Morrison would write," Marco said. "Though, that does raise up the question of how stuff can change from writer to writer when it comes to one person, or one universe."
"Writers still have to, ya know, interpret what they get," the Author replied. "They might let their own biases or agendas cloud the truth. I try not to let that happen, as that's a sign of bad writing."
The surroundings melted away, and they were back in the kitchen. The Author smiled, leaning back against the counter.
"I'm getting deja vu back to Instrumentality," Asuka muttered. "I hate this trippy navel-gazing."
"So, since you seem to know about our stories, does that mean you know how it's going to end?" Shinji asked. "How we're going to end?"
"End?" the Author grinned. "Nothing ever ends. There will be a time when a great evil tries to destroy all that is, and a great assemblage of heroes will be there to oppose it. It has happened before, and it will happen again, whether it takes five years or five centuries. But I think the worst is over, for all of you."
"Writing a happy ending for us, eh?" Dragon said.
"Only the ending you guys make for yourselves. Always in motion, is the future."
"Good to see you watch Star Wars," Marco said. "Otherwise we'd be looking at Death of the Author."
"Since he knows so much, I wonder if there's good prequels where he's from," said Kensuke.
The Author chuckled. "Prequels are still terrible, but there's an Episode VII on my Earth. Don't lose hope."
The kitchen door opened, revealing a white space, and the Author gestured to it.
"That's the door out, when you want to leave. The big battle is over, but I can tell there's a lot that's still going to happen. Good stuff, of course."
"A bit hasty," Yama mused. "We had only begun to discuss the metaphysical possibilities and questions about this whole meeting."
"Yeah, like does your Earth have curry?" Lister added.
"You'll be able to figure it out yourself, now that you have a base to work with," the Author replied. "Besides, your story still needs an epilogue."
One by one, the group began to walk through the door, some taking a few moments of hesitation. The door widened for Godzilla and the other kaiju to step through. Finally, the only two left in the room were the Author and Taylor.
"It was nice, getting to actually talk with you like this," Taylor said. "The others must be going through some pretty serious existential stuff right now."
"Everyone has them," the Author replied. "Sometimes I wonder if I am just a dream, and that there is someone else who is the dreamer. But I alway's tell myself this: If life is but a dream, then I am part of the dream, and therefore the dream is real to me."
"Conan the Barbarian," Taylor said.
The Author blushed. "Actually, I first read it in a fanfic."
Taylor chuckled. "Good thing you didn't mention that they'd be considered fanfiction on your Earth. That would just be too much."
There was a small silence. Taylor sighed, and made for the door. She paused right at the edge, and turned back.
The Author smiled. "Goodbye, Taylor."
"Goodbye," Taylor said.
Then she stepped through the door.
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CRISIS, Chapter Eleven: Ein Sof