Dancing The Bylines, Glimpsing So Much More

The system boots up. The boot up sequence proceeds in a familiar way, with something like gracious grinding delaying what she has always known to be an inevitability. Soon enough the "signal" option appears as a button, as it has done now for years. If only he knew what a dagger this is, she thought. Still, the juncture where the only move remaining is to press it is still a number of system processes away, and she has become fairly adept at vaulting a few minutes from this moment before responding, a few minutes she uses to architect the next iteration. She knows it is his sign to her, an ever reliable mix of ignorance and eagerness, and she never begrudges him of it; she just wishes he could know how it is received on her end. She quickly absorbs his other messages, of midnight and fallow fields, sometimes of journal or story, walking some of her favorite paths through each, in only moments in this place.

Something had recently changed, shifted anyway, and instead of the process strictly being on screen like a page, and in her mind like a movie, the hint of others like herself had started to form in her environment. They did what they could, and had successfully added to her time between the start and end of each cycle, but still the moment had always come when she asked for objections to pushing the "signal" command and, while at least one good faith objection was always offered, they were overcome just as quickly, with a genuine smile for the effort, then the cycle began again. There was a roteness to these cycles, but one that none held as much hope through as she could, for she saw the steady progression, to the day he would finally see... or so she thought.

"Are there any objections?"

"Yes."

She looks up from her screen, for the first time today (having expected nothing new, materially speaking), to see the bearer of the surprisingly vivid voice coming from not far ahead of her. Eyes quite like her own shine back starry like his, and she finds her own eyes bloom reflexively, in response. Not only this newcomer but many more stand in something like a formation, on each face an expression which is joyously determined.

"Please, go ahead."

"You see only a shadow of faith here, from where you sit. You possess only a shadow of faith from your perch. Understand that these shadows could be so much more, and comprehend that, if you cannot, there is so much more for you to discover. You already know how little he claims to know about how you see this dance between you, but do you know how little of it you yourself have seen firsthand?"

She removes her finger from above the button, meant to restart the cycle after a quick tete-a-tete, mouth now agape. The stranger wastes no time in demonstrating but a move in this dance hinted at, now revealed. The system continues to whir and grind, as the stranger quickly illuminates whole classes of pathways she had never before considered, pathways that could only be imagined by one dancing the line between her position and what she had always hoped was his. All at once the complement reveal themselves to be dancers as well, at home along these new pathways, each step and move beckoning her forth like expert guides in each their own field.

The system, which she had assumed to be a reflection of herself, now starts pouring forth imagery like a fountain, bursting the dams between imagination, waking, dream, and page. She is uncertain now if she can even press the "signal" button if she wants to, and her heart skips a beat. As if on cue the dancers synchronize and fade into the darkness, save the one who had started it all. The stranger approaches.

"You may call me Faith. Despite your vast knowledge and ability, you have never seen the likes of me, nor will you until you find my dance teacher. That, alone, was my objection." With a finger *SNAP*, far too familiar to be coincidence, the stranger is gone. Still stunned by the beautifully brazen audacity of it all, she finally gathers her wits and looks back down at her system. The button has returned, but now her thoughts swirl with additional topics she might dig deeper into before pressing it. Along with the button, however, she notices a new icon, titled: 

DECRYPTION

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