Chapter 10: Us & Change.

Darby wasn't known for staying in the moment. Her sensual captivation, playing back memory after memory, tended to distort her sense of time. When she finally snapped back into her reality, the train had already stopped, with doors wide open. While curious if she slept, she figured she should move regardless.

Walking out of the railcar, she saw more familiar sights. Buzzing lights, gated storefronts, and a metallic stench greeted her senses all at once. The locale was new to all three of them, but Darby couldn't help recognize the similarities to her own city. Her home, in a sense. Maybe Octet was closer than she realized? Or, the shadows of the city loomed larger than ever told. Either way it went, it was somewhat refreshing. It impressed her to see glimpses of what she knew.

Not far away from where she was, Cuttlefish sat on a bench humming to himself. His tunes were all across history, if it be his favorite Squid Sisters hit or the chants of his finer days. It was only a few minutes when Darby, who tried to follow his melodic trip, instead became filled with curiosity towards the mind they were playing from.

She walked over and took the seat next to him. Sarcastically, she inquired about her condition. "You think I look better?"

He was unphased by her comment. Waiting for any response, she noticed his eyes weren't even open. She scoffed, and said "Me too." in a joking manner.

Darby shifted her head towards the ground, gathering her thoughts. So many things remained unanswered, and Cuttlefish's involvement was one of them. Really, having anybody else in the metro be alive and well made less and less sense the more she thought about it. The only semblance of rhythm found underground were the echoes of trains, and the flickering of lights. At this moment, it dawned on her that she wasn't one of many soldiers chasing a dream. She was one of three, witnessing myth come to life. This was the closest she'd been to her goal in years, and yet she was still another layer underground.

Jumping back to her senses in a somewhat relaxed position, she shot the first question on her mind. "You still don't trust me?"

Cuttlefish scarcely opened his eyes, and leaned backwards. He happily explained, "A frien' o' ers' is a frien' o' mine!"

"You said that already.", she replied frustrated.

Cuttlefish found it amusing that she'd bring this up, as in his mind he'd already answered this question. "Whycha ask twice!?"

Darby scoffed in response. She nervously tapped her fingers on the armrest, as she rarely got to meet someone so high on the army's priority list. Finding the courage to turn towards him, she asked "So… what's next?".

His withered laugh echoed through the halls. "Next? Givin' bucko' this gift! But 'yer the ol' surprise, ain'tcha?"

Her mood calmed down a little, as she recognized he wasn't trying to be hostile. "Quite a gift if you're out here for it."

They both snickered, lightening the mood even by that little bit. Cuttlefish finally turned around to meet her face. "She think you special, girl."

Darby's first reaction was to laugh it off, as they both did earlier. But Cuttlefish didn't join her this time. It wouldn't have come to a surprise to hear that Darby had inspired Keri, defying the odds if you will. Everything about this trip was wrong, and that's the irony. She thought Cuttlefish's involvement was the mystery, but so was her own.

"Critter, you gotta tell me what you're here for."

There was a long pause in their conversation, the kind of pause that makes you certain you'd made the wrong choice. But eventually, Cuttlefish found his reason, and answered.

Even if she didn't remember her origins, we all knew Keri's beginnings were still a part of her. We're all products of our environment, and nobody escapes slowing down with time. In my conversations with Cuttlefish, meeting Keri seemed to remind him of his own youth. It may seem silly, but time and time again, life proves that perspective drives us.

I can't necessarily pin-point the moment this odd group of misfits felt more like a family than an alliance, but it didn't take too long for me to reach that point. For all of the stress put onto me as an Agent, it never felt overloading. I'd put a text from Marie over any of my responsibilities, even if it meant stretching myself thin. Don't get me wrong, I was cared for, arguably even understood. And yeah, in the moment life seemed tough. But I finally knew people I liked. I had a reason to wake up.

Cuttlefish is the grandfather to the elusive Squid Sisters, yet their music mostly escaped my rebellious teenage-hood. I've never really seen Callie and Marie as pop-stars (although they certainly are), nor have I really been star-struck by them. Even if we were strange beings, pretty often we'd get together like normal people. We'd spend the bits of our days together, hanging out in the middle of the night, smiling at the smaller things.

Once everybody was back together, he treated me no different from his own grandkids. I was no less smaller, nor larger, than everybody else in his little marching band of oddities. I had a place to belong, even if I was the most unknown of them all. In a sense, that made me the most elusive. I talked less, and lived more for it.

As our days grew shorter, I often found myself behind the camera. It was my way of trying to harness the magic of us. Photography was something Cuttlefish and I bonded over, and it helped me open my past up to him. He'd show me his old photo albums and tell the stories behind them, reminiscent of an unspoken exchange. Seeing him younger was like watching the old man break free, but I understand time had it the other way around. I saw that his kids meant a lot, and slowed him down. Grandkids even more so. And eventually, yours truly showed up as well.

Many of those photos now sit in drawers, or stashed away in albums of my own. They remind me of what was then, not what is now. As Claire and I grew further apart, as I saw Keri less and less, as the Squid Sisters pursued their careers, it was hard to talk to anybody. Nowadays, I regret allowing myself to be so alone, but that's in hindsight. Something that I was notorious for not considering.

Yet, through this hindsight, I get it now. Not everybody can do what I'm doing now, in whatever this story has become. Looking back is a privilege. Cuttlefish wanted to give Keri that opportunity, the ability to look back into a past she only had fragments of. To maybe find someone like her, or to see if anything reignited the memories of her past much like photographs did for us.

But most importantly, he wanted it to be her choice. That's all that mattered.

Darby couldn't scoff as she usually would. She found herself angered by the idea Cuttlefish presented, but couldn't find any valid reason to vent her frustration onto him. The concept of an Octoling making it to the surface wasn't new, but proof of their successes was.

Aggressively, yet quietly, she moved away from Cuttlefish and went back to grab what she had for self defense: a bottleneck, and her ink tank. Scouting locations within the railcar, she wasn't exactly subtle. It wouldn't be long until-

"Hey."

Keri stood behind the prodigy, who was briefly frozen by her voice. At that moment, Darby felt that getting involved between these two wasn't going to work out. To her, their partnership was over.

"Are we ever going to talk like that?"

Darby didn't respond, keeping her gaze towards the next set of train doors. She gave up trying to find anything left of hers, and walked forward begrudgingly.

"Hey... hey, hey." Keri ran over to block Darby's exit. They both stood still, gathering their own separate emotions. "Tell me what you're doing. Now." Keri's eyes sparkled and stuttered with uncertainty.

Darby straightened her pose, and told her directly. "I need you to move." As she started to walk forward, Keri stubbornly refused to comply. She said "why!?", with a voice audibly broken.

In Darby's mind, she'd done nothing to provoke such a strong reaction. Her thoughts became harder to manage, and the sarcastic snap-back of her voice became apparent. "You're gonna regret this."

"I barely got to know you!" Keri cried out. She took this moment to collect herself, even for how brief it was. Her anger only grew. "What are you even here for!?"

Darby felt that ignoring Keri quickly became less and less of an option. Her eyes started to dart around the room, trying desperately not to meet Keri's furious gaze. "You're not gonna like what you find."

"ANSWER THE FUCKING QUESTION!". Keri just about had it.

Darby's collected nature couldn't withstand the sheer thought of needing to answer anything for anyone. "This isn't worth it.", she stated sternly. Marching forward, she caved into her own frustration. Keri didn't budge. Eventually, their faces were only centimeters apart.

"You wanna do right by me?" Darby inquired. She didn't have the look of a friend to comprehend; she had the singular gusto of a soldier trying to survive. Keri slowly gave her an affirming nod.

"Forget I was ever in your damn life."

Once in a while, I'd be a camera again. Instead of being a participant, I'd be a distant observer. Capturing moments to be reflected upon later, instead of living within them.

Admiring the city lights from my living room, Keri, Darby, and I sat circled around each other. The moon was out, lustrous as it ever was, and the two of them were knee deep in conversation. What had happened to Darby after she'd left was new to Keri as well. Pretty much everything was new to me, so we had all different kinds of reactions and gazes hitting the room.

"You just-so-happen to also miss you like, pushing me?!" Keri added with her unique snark.

Darby sat on the question for a few moments, before sighing out her reply. "Yeah, Cherri. I pushed her so badly." She laughed at her own sarcasm, but Keri and I didn't join her.

They kept talking between each-other, as it seemingly was the first time they'd been able to discuss their conflict in a level-headed (if somewhat exhausted) manner. You know, one where survival isn't on the line, or past hardships aren't right in-front of you. I kept trying to find a way to voice my own thoughts, or just a comment that at the very least felt relevant. But none of them came.

The lens of my eyes felt intrusive to their time. I wanted out.

"Alright, you two deserve some privacy." I said, getting off the floor. "I'm gonna get some air."

"You need the keys?" Keri asked. It was a good call, as I'd gotten in the habit of leaving them in charge of my place while I did whatever I needed to.

"No, I've got a copy near my desk, I'll be fine." I assured her.

I grabbed my phone, and brought myself towards the drawers I'd so often avoid. The darkness of the room aided me in avoiding those albums, as this simply wasn't the time. As I searched further, I heard footsteps behind me.

It was Darby. She poked me slightly on my shoulder. "Hey.", I said back.

"You okay?", she pried.

Rustling through the amount of small junk I've collected over the years, it felt like I could find anything but the damn copy. "I'm good, just need some space." I finally found what I needed in the third row.

Making my way to the front door, I found myself struggling to make out where I needed to put the key. The lighting was rather moody, and I didn't wanna ruin the feel even momentarily with a flashlight. As I kept failing to find my exit to their moment, Darby decided to pluck some strings.

"Claire called me last night." She bluntly told me.

Some odd thoughts hit me, but begrudgingly I shrugged them off. Trying to say the nice thing, I muttered "Good to know she still finds time for people."

I found the right spot for the keyhole, and finally got the door unlocked. As I went over to turn the doorknob, Darby continued. "She's wrong about you."

It's hard to focus on anything when that gets laid out. "You can't be the judge of that.", I said with a hint of apprehension. Finding my steps out the door, I tried to find the words that could help Darby understand anything about us. But the words never came, as I didn't understand it either.

As I walked off, I contemplated. The essence of detachment resulted in what happened between me and Claire. It resulted in Marie waiting for me to initiate anything. And most importantly, who's to say I've been fixed? What says that Darby and Keri aren't just waiting to be hurt by one of my inevitable, toxic decisions?

I found myself at the nearby station when the loud buzz of my phone interrupted me. I used to keep it silent all the time, but with both Darby and Keri living with me, I figured I'd better be safe than sorry if anything happened to them. Granted, it ruined my chain of thought right then and there, but that wasn't exactly pretty to begin with.

It wasn't uncommon to have a changing lock screen at this time. That is, every-time I'd turn on my phone, something different from my library would show up. Commonly, it was some silly quote from a friend or a funny still from a video. But this time, it picked a photo of Keri and I after a long day out. I looked absolutely beat, but I'm still making a silly face. Keri's a little reserved in photos, at least when it comes to ones taken in public. But it never bothered me.

As I unlocked my phone, the train whizzed by. Darby had sent a message, which ended up being an apology for overstepping. It surprised me that someone like her would find the time to apologize, but I couldn't find the energy to respond with anything meaningful. I put my phone back in my pocket, and sat around. As the wind hit me in the ways I'd forgotten all about, I basked in the solitude of my train station at night.

Or at least, I tried to.

Because all my mind kept doing was reminiscing over that stupid picture, because my lock screen just had to be a photo Claire took of us. And it made me think about her behind the lens. It made me think, within that very brief circumstance, that I was not always the spectator. Occasionally, life would prove to me that our roles aren't static. That day, I wasn't the photographer, but the subject. I could be both, as could she.

To this day, I don't know what Claire said to Darby over the phone. It could've been retrospective, it could've been hateful, I'm not really sure. I hoped that when I'm older, I'd be able to talk about this with someone special. We'd laugh, watching TV, about the acquaintance who never understood me. I'd reminisce, just like now, about a friend who never let me know who they were. Late at night, with the love of my life, we'd talk about the relationships that were never meant to be.

On nights like these, the most mature thing to do hurts the most out of them all. With a sigh of disbelief, I did the right thing and went home.

February 10th, 2025. Author's Notes: This took about twice as long as it should have. Sorry.

I'm posting these chapters in this state mostly because I'm pretty tired of fixing them up. Albeit, I'm still glad that I was able to cross this finish line, even if all that really means is another marathon is ahead.

This concludes the first day of Isolated Resonance. Maybe Day 2 won't take two years! In all seriousness, I'm not sure how long that will take (especially considering my current schedule), but I'm excited to find out the way this narrative ends up with you. For me, it's been an invaluable resource into developing my skill-set as a writer.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you stick around for the rest. Take care.