Got ambushed by a plot bunny with some really preem chrome; only way I could shake it was to start writing.

「Symbols Between Seconds」

It was getting harder and harder to remember what time had felt like before it turned from air (everywhere, in everything, but somehow just a footnote save when the winds of change blew hard and time was the drum the world was forced to march to) and became an ocean above her head. She can't ignore time, now; it presses down on her, oppressive in the way the pause before a punchline now lasts long enough to forget the setup. She'd never realized how much humor relied on timing until her uncle stopped trying to make her laugh.

Maybe that's why she found Motoko interesting; she'd certainly thought it was a joke when John suggested they fight - but rather than a swift tiger teaching a simple child a lesson, instead Motoko turned out to be a hard-working kid who capitalized on her own hasty judgment.

Though, that hadn't particularly impressed her at the time. Wake-up calls were rarely pleasant, and she hadn't realized until then how much she'd begun to assume her speed put her beyond the reach of anyone without similar advantages. If nothing else, her emotional outburst made it obvious in retrospect how much weight she'd put on that mental crutch of superiority.

No; it wasn't until after their second match that she realized Motoko was hiding a more insightful mind than most.

You fear such simple chrome? How embarrassing.

I'll pick up a high end Sandy eventually. I have some things in mind for it, that's my goal, but no way do I want a Keren. I couldn't stand how long everything takes.

It had taken her months living with it to realize how much pressure time brought to bear, as more and more of her routine habits became untenable points of friction. And yet, Motoko had seen it for what it was from the start. She was surprised how much of a relief it was to hear someone acknowledge that burden, as well. To recognize the way she would always outpace the world as something she bore the weight of, the cost of the strength she gained.

It was oddly easier to cope with, after that, as well. Easier to see it as a challenge to overcome, and not a failing in herself, when someone else had seen its scale as worthy of caution. To begin reclaiming the things the press of time had shorn away, and make new moorings in this sea of heartbeats turned to hours.

One of the first was music - something she'd given up on very early indeed, when slow melodies turned to endless monotones and the heaviest tracks came apart into disconnected thuds and crashes. It was months of effort; finding the right balance of time compression, pitch shifting, and even replacing hardware that popped at transients she needed clean - but finally she could close her eyes to listen and feel like she was in tune with something again. A moment of peace from the need to convince herself that being forever out of step was worth it.

And then, as she was walking, she found herself near John's building... when a tune caught her ear.

The first verse froze her in place, but it was the chorus that left her feeling like someone had cracked her open and put her on display. She shook herself, and looked around, trying to find the source - it sounded nothing like any of the popular bands, but if she could find the name of the song she'd be able to listen to it later. Somewhere she could close the door and come to terms with everything it was pulling to the surface rather than out here in the street-

and

_then

_her
_thoughts
_stopped

and I'll be there before you know it
I'll be gone before you see me
and do you think you can imagine
anything so lonely
and I know you'd really like me
but I never stick around
because time keeps dragging on
and on and on
and on and on

She remembered walking home as a disconnected whirl of images, her mind refusing to settle into anything resembling coherency, too struck by what she'd heard to do more than let her body carry her back along familiar routes. As she settled down to sleep, though, she wondered... perhaps she should ask Motoko about hobbies after their next spar.

It might be time to remember how to stick around.